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cellard0ors · 3 years ago

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Fic: Movement (5/5)

YAS.

I got it done.

My pornstar!Rhett and College!Student!Link fic is DONE.

...it was supposed to be a short ficlet thing (hahahahahaha - cries) Still, it's done - so I hope you enjoy it @peachworthy! It was all for you!

If you want to read the previous part on tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You can read it ALL here on AO3 Link!

Dating a porn star is not what Link expected.

Not that Link ever expected to be dating a porn star, but the point remains – dating one is not like he thinks one would envision it. To be fair, this is probably because he’s not just dating any porn star, he’s dating Rhett and Rhett is far more to him than just a porn star. In fact, he was his roommate and secret crush long before Link even recognized him by his profession.

But now, having watched one of Rhett’s films, seeing him in action (full porno sex action), Link can confirm that that is indeed what he is. But that doesn’t really matter to Link. Nothing does, but how sweet Rhett is. How doting and romantic and kind of the best boyfriend anyone could ever have and it sort of boggles the mind that he is Link’s boyfriend.

But he is and their relationship is moving along quite amicably. Nights spent watching movies together, going grocery shopping, sharing chaste kisses and the occasionally more heated ones and it’s not all that different from how it was when they were just friends minus the addition of said kissing.

However, it’s more than a few weeks in, and it’s clear to Link that sex is an issue. Or not so much an issue as a nonentity. Neither of them have pushed farther than the classic over-the-clothes action and Link isn’t sure if it’s him or Rhett or both and it finally reaches a point where one of them has to speak up, so he decides to brave the field, “So, um, Rhett?”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks and he’s a little distracted, making dinner for them as he is. Still, Link sees no reason why this discussion can’t be casual, so he shoots for that as he asks, “You…? Ah, you think we’re ever gonna-? Gonna, um, have sex?”

The last comes out so horribly awkward and Link is rubbing at the back of his neck and somehow feeling like a heel in all of this. But communication is important in a relationship and he figures it’s better to speak now then forever hold his peace or whatever. Rhett looks up from the skillet he’s working over, eyebrows raised high, “Why? You don’t want to?”

“No!” Link rejoints quickly, “No, I definitely want to! I just…? I noticed we, uh…haven’t? Yet? So, I-I wasn’t sure-?”

So, you want to talk about it, but you can’t string anything coherent together? His thoughts hiss, but Rhett seems understanding as he removes the skillet from the heat and clicks off the stove. While their food cools, he carefully removes his oven mitts and shrugs, “Well, I mean…I’ll confess, I’m a little…apprehensive to kick things off.”

Link perks up at this and Rhett shoots him a lopsided grin, “Mean, you’ve seen one of my films now. Before you, when I’d get in a relationship, when people found out about what I did – I guess you could say they broke down into two types. First type expected me to be some god of carnality, y’know? Like, the best bang they’d ever have in their lives.”

He runs a hand through his thick hair, tossing it, which Link now recognizes as a nervous tic on his part, “And it’s not really like that. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m a good lover. I don’t see myself as horrible in bed or anything, but what I’ve found is that a lot of those types of partners had these overblown expectations of me. Like I’d get them off in a second or that I’d ruin them for others or, I dunno, give ‘em orgasms every five seconds and I-?”

Rhett trails off, looking at a loss for words, but Link gets it, “They couldn’t sperate the fantasy from the reality.”

He gets a snap of fingers at that, Rhett looking pleased, “Exactly! Even though people say they understand that porn is fake and that a lot of it is exaggerated, for some reason, if they’re with a person who does it for a living, they expect something…I don’t know, revolutionary.”

Link nods and Rhett starts plating up their food, avoiding Link’s eyes as he speaks, “And I guess I just-? I don’t want you to be one of those types of people.”

Link’s heart stings a little at the thought – or more, at the idea that Rhett had had that thought. Rhett takes the plates towards their kitchen table, eyes still downcast and cheeks clearly red as he murmurs, “I don’t think you are. Truth be told, I know you’re better than that. But…I really like you, Link. And I don’t want to lose you because-!”

Link takes the plates from Rhett and sets them down, he then tips Rhett’s face up by his chin and kisses him tenderly, looking into his eyes as he speaks, “You won’t.”

Rhett doesn’t look convinced, so Link kisses him again, then wraps his arms around his neck, tugging him close, “You said there were two types?”

“Ahhhh, yeeaaah,” Rhett draws out, looking at little sheepish even as his arms settle around Link’s waist, “The other type is the one I’ll admit I’m a bit more worried you might fall into.”

Link’s eyebrows rise, asking for him to continue more than words can. Rhett does; but resumes not looking at him while he does so, “The other type are…intimidated.”

Link lets out a snort that speaks volumes, clearly saying there’s no way Rhett ‘intimidates’ him but that doesn’t stop him, “No, seriously – they think because of what I do, how many films I’ve made and how many partners I’ve worked with, that I’ll be hard to please or that they’ve got to do something extraordinary to stand out.”

“Well, I mean…I’m already extraordinary, so-?” Link teases and Rhett rolls his eyes, starting to edge away, but Link lets out a little abortive ‘Hey!’ before dragging him back over and kissing him. This time they kiss for a while, Rhett’s fingers hooking into the beltloops of Link’s jeans and dragging him closer. It’s right on that edge of sweet and sexy and, after a while, Link manages to draw in a rather audible breath, enough to murmur, “No, I get what you’re sayin’…”

Link puts space between them, knowing that now’s not the time to just jump into bed considering Rhett’s concerns. Especially in light of their legitimacy, which he confirms as he takes his seat at the table, “Look, I’ve thought about all of that. Everything you’ve worried about or your old flames thought, I’ve run ‘em through my noggin and I gotta say, all of it did trip me up. At first. But then, I had an epiphany!”

“Really?” Rhett asks with a very incredulous tone as he takes his own seat. Link’s already started digging into his meal, looking smug even as he answers with an agreeable, muffled hum – mouth full of food. Once swallowed, he grins and gestures at Rhett with his fork, “And my thought was, we just gotta get on an even playing field.”

Rhett looks a little stumped by that, blinking rapidly, “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Link says cheekily, “We’re making a movie.”

“You…sure about this?” Rhett looks at the Go-Pro set up in front of his bed with a mixture of uncertainty and dread. Link doesn’t mind the first, but is bothered by the second, even as he adjusts the camera, “Absolutely.”

“I don’t know, man…”

Link looks through the view finder. The lightning is just right, but he adjusts the angle some. He wants to make sure he gets a good, wide shot of the bedroom – especially the bed. That’s where the magic is going to happen. Just thinking of it, a whole maelstrom of butterflies churn through his central nervous system. Still, he’s nothing if not determined.

Some would call it stubborn. He prefers determined.

Regardless, Link looks to Rhett, “Look, this is just for us. Alright? Nobody gets to see this lil’ gem but you and me. It’s,” he looks into the distance, thoughtful, “It’s a Link and Rhett production!”

This gets a laugh, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Considering my extensive filmography, shouldn’t I be the headliner? Shouldn’t it be a Rhett and Link production?”

The name flip causes Link to make a face and drags another chuckle out of Rhett, “Take it you can’t handle that?”

“Well…I am the one in school studying film…”

“Okay, but I’m the star attraction here.”

“Are you?” Link asks with a devilish grin, even as he goes about adjusting various throw pillows and things, as if to perfectly set the scene for what is about to take place, “How do you know I won’t upstage you?”

The sound of disbelief that emerges from Rhett causes Link to make another face, “Seriously. You haven’t had all of this yet,” he gestures to his whole body, “Might just be I’m the one that ruins you for anyone else. That I just-! Just blow your mind so much sexually that you can’t get enough of me!”

Rhett is all smiles, enjoying Link’s boastful side more than he probably should. But it’s hard not to. It’s so endearing and, oddly, attractive and Link knows it as he claps his hands together and a couple ‘alright’s’ leave him in rapid, nervous succession because, well, it’s showtime.

And showtime means sex time.

Sex time…with Rhett.

Link is going to have sex with him and okay, okay, okay…

“You alright, buddy?” Rhett asks seriously and Link realizes his ‘alright’s’ have switched over to nervous ‘okay’s’ and he’s sort of a rambling, shaky mess. He looks at Rhett and oh gosh, the man is too attractive by half. Link needs to get back in charge of this situation. As such, he draws in a deep breath through his nose and nods to himself, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?’ Rhett returns softly, looking worried as he speculatively eyes the camera and then the bed again, ‘Cause I remember my first time filming and I was a mess.”

This draws Link’s attention, “Yeah?”

Rhett nods, “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, yeah, sex is pretty matter of fact, but knowing how to go about it and with a bunch of people watching…”

“Okay, but,” Link walks over to Rhett and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, before taking one of his hands and giving it a squeeze, “No one’s watching but you and me.”

“True,” Rhett confirms softly, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous.”

“Are you?” Link asks and Rhett grins, “What? Nervous?”

At Link’s nod Rhett laughs, squeezing Link’s hand back, “You bet your sweet bippy I am!”

“Great! Then we’re on the same page!” Link beams and then draws back his hand and goes over towards the dresser, grabbing a folder he brought with him when he brought in his filming set up, “Speaking of pages…”

He draws out one and Rhett looks over it before letting out a loud boom of laughter, “You wrote a script?!”

Link shrugs, “Just a couple of words…”

“I see,” Rhett giggles and flips through it, reading quick snippets of the ridiculous prose, “And you said ‘Movement’ had bad dialogue.”

“What’s wrong with the dialogue?” Link asks with distinct affront and Rhett waves the pages at him, as he coos dramatically, “‘Ohhh Daddy Link, you’re so big’?”

Link snatches back the pages and tosses them to the side, “You just wait!”

“Uh huh,” Rhett is still giggling but Link looks serious, “You’ll be saying that and more!”

“Oh, I will?” Rhett wheezes and he wasn’t aware this was going to be so much fun. To be honest, neither was Link, who looks a little sheepish even as he reaches for Rhett, “C’mere…”

Rhett does and they kiss for a while. Nice, warm, comfortable kisses until Link sneaks in just the slightest nip of teeth along Rhett’s bottom lip. The tiny sting draws Rhett up short, makes his breath catch and Link draws back to look at him, blue eyes heavy lidded as he hums, “I’m gonna push record now.”

Rhett can only manage a nod and Link pushes a button on the Go Pro. They resume kissing and Rhett can’t help but let out a whimper as Link…pushes him backwards. The push isn’t terribly forceful, but it’s enough that Rhett finds himself backing up towards the bed. He feels the tap of the mattress against the back of his knees and at Link’s next nudge, he falls back against it.

Link clambers over top of him and their lips have hardly broken contact the entire time. Link’s frame is slighter than Rhett’s, but not any less substantial, and Rhett groans, finding he rather likes it beneath the other man. More so when Link leverages himself up a little…higher. Somehow Rhett finds he feels…small. Something he’s never really ever felt before and the sensation shoots straight to his dick, more so when Link husks, “You ready to learn a new form?”

That was actually something Rhett remembers seeing in the script Link wrote. It was a haphazard line tossed in amongst the sillier remarks he’d picked out, but hearing it now, he shudders, “I…?”

“C’mon,” Link whispers against his neck, which he peppers with little sucking kisses, “Gotta master some other…movements…”

The last is said with a level of severity that Link’s surprised he manages, but also – hearing it – he can’t help but laugh at himself. Okay, so, his dialogue isn’t all that great. To be fair, he wrote it more for fun than anything.

And as kind of a segue into how Rhett should be prepared for him, not the other way around. Link supposes it was his approach to avoiding nerves – an air of bravado that would sustain him through any potential worries.

After all, Rhett’s not wrong. Rhett is experienced, he’s done a lot – in comparison, Link’s sexual history is dismal. Still, Link’s sure he can provide something the previous lovers didn’t and he, heart in his throat, asks, “Tell me, baby…you ever bottom?”

It was, in fact, a question he asked in his script but, also, one Link wanted to ask for real. Considering his stature, Link’s pretty sure Rhett hasn’t. And with Rhett’s answering groan of desire, the question is confirmed, albeit the core of it still unanswered. Link whispers, “…you want to?”

“Fuck,” Rhett manages in such a breathy way that Link feels his balls tighten, more so when he can feel Rhett’s whole body nod beneath him, “Yeah…”

“You want to?” Link asks again, wanting Rhett to be absolutely clear about what he’s agreeing to, even as Rhett’s head starts rapidly bobbing more and more, “Yes, yes…yes, I want to, Link.”

“Link?” he asks and it’s a clear tease, one met with Rhett groaning again, this time not from pleasure, so much as amused aggravation, “I’m not calling you Daddy, Link.”

“Mmm, not yet,” Link purrs into his chest even as he eases up enough to draw Rhett’s shirt up and over his head. Rhett, not to be outdone, grabs the bottom hem of Link’s shirt and, working together, the two ease it up and over Link’s head. Now shirtless, the two resume kissing and moving against one another, hips lewdly grinding even with their jeans on and Link absent mindedly wishes they’d worn something simpler to remove.

But the feeling of his denim clad erection rubbing roughly against Rhett’s does create a magnificent friction that draws a curse from him, his skin breaking out in a light sheen of sweat as they continue undulating. Rhett’s fingers, which had once more gripped to Link’s belt loops, now dive beneath the back of his waistband, dipping beneath his underwear and gripping his ass firmly and Link grunts his name approvingly.

If Link learned one thing from watching Rhett in that film, it’s that the man has amazing hands. Big palms, long fingers, and Jesus – his grip. He’s latched on and breathing heavily and the sounds of those pants in Link’s ear is better than any music he’s ever heard.

Another thing he learned from the film – cheesy music is not needed. Just the sounds of two people together, seeking pleasure, is more than enough to get the fires going. Although frankly, Link was on fire the moment his lips met Rhett’s. And it’s a fire that only stokes higher as he eases up, pulls back and Rhett goes with him.

Link’s legs are on either side of Rhett’s, practically putting him in Rhett’s lap and Rhett curls up, his mouth aimed at Link’s dusky nipples. He claims first the left, then the right, licking and nibbling at the sensitive tips and Link’s head falls back, Adam’s apple bobbing on a low groan because, yes.

He’s always had such a sensitive chest. It was a source of embarrassment for him once. That his nipples were such an erogenous zone. But now, with Rhett feasting there, he’s more than okay with it. Okay with Rhett’s hands having left his ass to grip at his bare back, to hold him still while he feasts on his chest.

Rhett’s teeth scratching through swaths of chest hair with abandon as they trail down as far as they can go before arching back up, searching out Link’s mouth and Link kisses him again, his hands tangling in the back of Rhett’s long hair, fingers ensnaring themselves deep within the mass of curls and tugging just so. Rhett whimpers at it, hips jutting upwards and Link feels himself bounce some, smirks into their kiss as he murmurs, “Tryin’ ta take me for a ride?”

His accent comes out thick, a sweet southern drawl and Rhett’s eyes are glossy green as he puts up again and Link’s own hips answer – a dirty dance beginning as they rock against one another. And while the simulation of the actual sex act is pleasing enough it’s just – not the real thing and that’s what Link wants.

He wants it, but not like this – not this time and he lets out a whine even as he forces himself up and off, forces himself to pull away and stand – his hands shaking as they remove his jeans. And while Rhett is still lying there on the bed – looking like some kind of sexual Adonis – Link can just make out the slightest sliver of insecurity in his eyes.

It hides well beneath the open lust, but it’s there. And even though he’s clad only in his underwear – a rather funny sight no doubt, given the way his stiff cock is making the material curve outwards – he asks gently, “You okay?”

Rhett nods and starts working off his own jeans and underwear, even as he breathes, “Just…look at you.”

“Me?” Link laughs lightly and Rhett nods, sitting up enough to pulls everything off. Once his cumbersome clothing is removed, he looks to Link again, his gaze full of wonder, “Yeah. I mean…you’re just-?”

Rhett licks his lips and swallows, his eyes darting away for a moment as he whispers, “You’re so…pretty.”

“Aw, shucks,” Link waves a hand before going to take his underwear off, “Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“I don’t,” Rhett intones with such severity that Link’s hands freeze on the elastic waistband of his underwear. Rhett’s looking at him now. Staring at him and Link feels all the tiny hairs on his body stand on end as Rhett speaks, “You’re…you’re beautiful, Link.”

Am I? Link wants to ask; but feels ridiculous at the prospect. He toys with repeating the sentiment – because (of course) Rhett is beautiful too. But there’s something about the way Rhett said it, about the way he’s looking at him, that keeps Link’s mouth closed. Keeps it closed as he finally removes his underwear and somehow that’s what breaks the serious tension between them, Rhett’s eyes going wide, “Oh.”

“What?” Link asks and he looks down and then back up again, confused.

“That’s…” Rhett runs a hand over his jaw, “That’s…a big dick.”

The shocked, delighted laugh that breaks out of Link is surprisingly loud but Rhett just sits up more, grinning, “No, I’m serious, man. You could make a lotta money in the biz with that thing.”

“I could?”

“Yeah. Big market in the big dick department.”

“…so what I wrote in the script was accurate?” Link waggles his eyebrows, shooting him a gloating look even as Rhett sighs in defeat, “Well-? Yeah? Yeah, I guess so…”

Link lets out a little ‘woo hoo!’ and it’s hard for Rhett not to chuck a pillow at him and call this whole thing off. Not that he ever would, smiling as he is. Smiling and chewing on his bottom lip as words rumble out from deep within his chest, “But do you know how to use it?”

Link goes over towards the nearby dresser and, far more smoothly than he even imagined, he draws out a tiny bottle of lube. He quickly coats one hand before tossing the bottle near Rhett and, making sure to keep eye contact, he takes a good grip on himself. His words come out in a pleasured hiss as he strokes himself, his length growing wet and slick, “You’re about to find out.”

The visible shudder that moves though Rhett makes Link have to tighten his hold, because it wouldn’t do to cum from just that. It’s hard though. Not to lose himself at the mere sight of Rhett’s sheer arousal. Still, he manages as his eyelids grow heavy, his voice thick with emotion as he murmurs, “Go one then, Rhett. Get ready.”

“…ready?”

Link nods and his chin juts towards the direction where he tossed the lube, the tiny bottle resting against Rhett’s left hipbone, “Ready for Daddy’s big dick.”

A strangled sound erupts from Rhett and Link knows it’s not a laugh. It’s something much more lascivious as Rhett takes the bottle and begins to coat his fingers. He lies back and parts his legs and Link just keeps talking, “That’s it. That’s a good boy. Draw your knees up…”

“Fuck, Link…” Rhett openly moans and does as instructed. He pulls his knees up and it makes himself more compact, smaller, and he arches his hips, makes sure to put himself on full display as his fingers drop to his entrance. He eases one finger in past the tight ring of muscle, then another, and Link keeps speaking, even as he continues to jack himself (the sound of his hand on his flesh bordering on obscene) as he speaks, “That’s it. Get yourself nice and open for me.”

“Link…”

“You’re so tiny, baby. Gotta make room for me.”

The tight mewl of pleasure that leaves Rhett at that, the way his hard cock stirs against his belly, the wet tip smearing the skin there as he does as Link asks, makes it difficult for Link to continue. He’s panting now and there’s not enough air and he needs to get in. He needs to take Rhett before he loses himself to all the sensory stimulation going on around him.

He kneels on the bed, making the mattress dip and Rhett’s fingers lose their rhythm. He slowly withdraws his fingers, a noise of discontentment leaving him but Link just shushes him, kisses him, before he grabs the nearby throw pillows.

They work together to adjust them beneath the curve of Rhett’s spine, making it more comfortable for him to lift his legs higher, the tops of his thighs pressing back lightly against his body. Link doesn’t want Rhett turned into a pretzel for them to fuck properly, for them to face one another – that won’t look good on camera.

Link’s not one of those driven by the sight of two lumped up forms – bodies a heaving, tangled mass while they work away at one another. Same goes for up close, zoomed in shots of their bodies making a connection. While pleasing in the moment and certainly something he likes to see in the throes of passion, it’s never been something he’s enjoyed in adult films.

Granted, it’s not like he can zoom in with the camera now, so that’s not something he has to worry about exactly, but the fact remains – the two things are not something he wants captured on film. He wants their movie to fulfill his tastes. In reflection, he should have asked for Rhett’s tastes as well, what he would have liked to see, but then he feels fingers pinch at one of his nipples and yelps.

“What was that for?!”

“You’re distracted,” Rhett hisses, squirming beneath him, “Distracted instead of fuckin’ me!”

“I was thinking…” Link looks to the camera and then to Rhett and then back again. Rhett’s head knocks back against the bed on a sigh, “Link, please don’t go all directorial on me now...”

Link lets out a pleased little chuckle, “Lil’ impatient?”

“Ain’t nothing little about me.”

“I beg to differ,” Link growls and he kisses Rhett, buries his hands in all his glorious hair and then – thankfully – he pulls back enough to take a good hold of himself, to direct himself in. Rhett chokes out a sound that is the perfect cross between pain and pleasure and Link glows, “Yeah, see that? You’re so small and tight, sweetheart. I don’t even know if you can fit all of me.”

The cords on Rhett’s neck stand out as he tosses his head back, whimpering as Link spears him open, as he cries, “Jesus, Link.”

“Yes?” Link asks in a strained voice, but one that is light with enjoyment. Because he knows. He knows that – if anything – there’s nothing little about him. And Rhett is recognizing that now. Recognizing that Link is big and thick and filling him up quite nicely. His body is doing its best to stretch, to be accommodating, but it’s hard.

As hard as Rhett’s own dick, which he reaches for, giving it one swift, firm stroke before Link lets out a snarl of disapproval. He snatches back Rhett’s hand, presses it hard back against the mattress with a light, chastising ‘nuh-uh-uh’ and Rhett lets out a tight whine because no. He needs more, he has to have it, and then Link moves.

And this is very much the definition of movement.

Link’s hips work like a well-oiled machine, his length beginning a steady pistoning in and out, and Rhett’s hands can’t help themselves, fleeing to Link’s ass, needing to hold on to something – anything. He grabs it hard – fingers digging in and pressing him down, pressing him deeper, and Link answers with a curse, Rhett’s name following after as he picks up the pace and it’s clear neither of them is going to last long.

Their lips lock and unlock in filthy, wet kisses – their damp foreheads pressing together now and then when they have to draw back for air and just breathe. But they share oxygen between the pants, the bed beneath the shaking slightly – shaking like their limbs and Link’s mouth moves to Rhett’s ear, brushing against it as he whispers, “That’s it. That’s my good boy.”

Rhett sobs and Link kisses his earlobe, gasping, “You going to cum from my big dick alone? You going to do that for Daddy?”

Another tight sound winds its way out of Rhett’s throat and his body is growing rigid even as it trembles and Link can feel him squeezing around him, can feel how close he is. The pressure is fantastic, yet link can’t help himself, can’t help but kiss Rhett’s cheek, can’t help but meet his eyes as he asks, “Tell me…”

“Yesssss,” Rhett hisses and Link presses for it, “Yes, what?”

“Yes!” Rhett pants, his head nodding, “Yes, Da-!”

He doesn’t finish saying it. The word ‘Daddy’ gets lost, becoming a pure, jubilant shout as his body breaks apart, his climax washing over him like a warm, sweet cascade. The feel of it – of Rhett breaking apart beneath him – the sight of him losing control – sends Link over and he cums harder than he ever has.

His body loses complete control, snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight and he knows he goes a little crazy – his body jack hammering away with the kind of force he would normally abhor, but – what can he do? Rhett feels so perfect around him.

Link’s lost – swept up in the storm of Rhett’s release and his own and Link can feel starkly hot, wet spurts against his stomach and his own body is going much the same within Rhett. The collide against one another, again and again, until all the stings of pleasure are wrung out of each of them. They end up a sweaty heap until Link rolls off and looks up at the ceiling, eyes wide, “Wow.”

The word comes out winded. Impressed. Rhett responds much the same. They both stare up at the ceiling and Link knows the camera is still recording, but he could honestly care less. He feels weightless, buoyant, and just as he thinks he might float up and out of his body. Rhett sighs, “I need a new job.”

Link frowns, eyebrows knitting together, and he turns to Rhett, confused, “What?”

Rhett doesn’t look at him, eyes still glues upwards, as he exhales, “Need a new job, man.”

“…why?”

Rhett turns to him and his green gaze is unbelievably soft, “Told you. I said I’d always planned on getting out when I met someone.”

Link doesn’t speak, he just waits. Waits for Rhett to make him one of the happiest men on planet earth, as he says, “And I met you.”

“Yeah?” Link asks shyly, uncertainly and at Rhett’s nod, he smiles, licking his lips, “You saying you like me?”

“Shit, bo, “Rhett laughs, “think it’s pretty obvious I do more’n just like you.”

“Oh?” Link’s heart twirls up inside him and truthfully? This? This is even better than the world shattering sex they just had. More so when Rhett rolls to one side and, looking deep into Link’s eyes, confesses, “Yeah. I love you, Link.”

I love you, Link.

Link rolls on to his side, kisses Rhett, and – finally – gets to say something he’s been thinking for a very long time, “I love you too.”

The film they made is raw, messy, and the best film Rhett thinks he’s ever made.

Link points out it didn’t win any awards, but Rhett boasts that Link IS the reward and honestly, Link will take that. He’ll take that and then some. Rhett drops out of the business; Link continues with school – they transition fully from roommates to friends to lovers and both recognize that this movement in their lives is far better than any other kind of movement.

Because it’s one they’re sharing together.

#rhink #my writing #peachworthy #oh my sweet peach

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Wisdom Tooth - Kiara Carrera

Request: hi there! can i request a kiara x reader where reader has to get her wisdom teeth taken out and she asks kiara to come along with her and the others come along too bc they know you like kiara. after it’s done you’re very clingy to kiara and keep complimenting her and confess that you like her ? thank you !

A/N: Fun fact, I have 3 out of 4 wisdom teeth still but I had to lose a molar when I got the one removed because it was impacted.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your mom had scheduled your appointment for after school, it was a half day and she figured you could walk across campus to the dentist’s office to get your wisdom teeth pulled before winter break. The upper right tooth was impacted, evidenced by the increasing amount of pain you were constantly in and they had decided to go ahead and pull all of them while they were pulling that one.

“Don’t they like, dose you up with painkillers?” John B asked as the four of you cut across the parking lot after school. The only disadvantage of Kiara not going to the same school as you anymore was that you always had to wait for her to drive down from the Eight. Even now as you walked with John B, JJ, and Pope (who had invited themselves along to your dentist’s appointment for some unknown reason) you were looking for Kiara’s subaru.

“I wanna be dosed up with painkillers.” JJ said, followed almost immediately by a groan as Pope smacked him in the chest.

“I seriously don’t think you guys are allowed in.” You said, stopping at the front door of the house that had been refashioned into a dentist’s practice.

“Why? Kiara’s coming.” JJ argued, glancing over as the green subaru pulled into a parking spot, “why does she get to go in and not us?”

“Is it because you love her more than us?” Pope asked, grinning when you groaned and rolled your eyes.

“It’s because she won’t be a total dick to me when I’m all doped up.” You replied.

“We’ll be saints!” John B swore, placing a hand over his heart. Pope and JJ quickly mirrored his stance. “Honest, we’ll sit in the waiting room and be silent.”

“You’d better.”

“What are you guys doing?” Kiara asked, coming up the front steps behind the four of you.

JJ turned around to face her, “going inside, what are you doing?”

You didn’t say anything, opening the door and going in, everyone else following behind you. The living room had been converted to a waiting area with a fish tank and a few different activities for kids to stay occupied. You went to the front desk window to check in while JJ, Pope, and John B went over to the coloring table, sitting around on kid sized chairs as they divided up coloring pages. Kiara grabbed a chair and sat down, away enough that she could pretend the people she just walked through the door with were complete strangers and not her actual friends.

“Okay,” you fell into the seat next to her, knee bobbing as you took a deep breath. You hated needles and surgery and anything that meant a trip to the doctor. Especially when that doctor was a dentist. It didn’t matter that your tooth hurt so bad that even now you were holding an ice pack that you’d nabbed from the school nurse against your cheek. You hated dentists, “she said they’ll call me when it’s my turn.”

“Well we’re the only ones in here so I can’t imagine that’ll take too long.” Kiara replied, reaching over to put a hand on your knee, “it’ll be okay, I’m right here.”

“I’m just freaking out.” You replied, glancing over to JJ, Pope, and John B, all huddled over coloring pages with crayons spilled out in the middle of the table, “I wish I could be that chill.”

“How’s your tooth feeling?” She asked, glancing their way before turning to you again, sympathetic smile on her face. She’d been the first one to realize that there was something wrong with your tooth.

“Like it’s trying to murder me.” You replied, slumping over slightly in the chair. Kiara pouted at you and put her hand on your back, rubbing in small circles.

The door by the counter opened and a nurse came out, calling your name into the small waiting room that was empty aside from your friends. When all five of you looked up at the same time she looked a little startled.

“Can I bring someone back?” You asked, getting up.

“Only one person.” She replied, eyeing the three boys drawing at the table, “this isn’t an afterschool hang out.”

“We’re here for moral support.” JJ said, winking at you.

You glared at him in return. All three boys knew about your crush on Kiara and had tagged along with the intention of watching you hopped up on laughing gas and uninhibited. Even Pope had been joking about you being all crazy like people always seemed in videos on youtube.

“That’s fine, just,” you pointed to Kiara and she got up, coming over to you.

“Alright, follow me.”

You walked back into the dentist’s exam room, Kiara slipping her hand into yours encouragingly and squeezing. You hated the dentist as it was and if your tooth wasn’t impacted you would have kept all your wisdom teeth in.

You weren’t exactly sure what length of time actually passed between you being led back to get your wisdom teeth out and the dentist sending you back out, five teeth, because your molar had to come out too, in a tiny plastic container. Despite the anxiety you had before and the pain you were in, you came out smiling, Kiara’s hands on your waist as she walked behind you.

“She almost walked into the bathroom door.” Kiara explained as John B, Pope, and JJ stood up to meet you both. “I’m gonna sign her out.”

You were passed from Kiara to John B, who wrapped his arm around your waist as you hugged him. “Hi!”

“Hey, how you feeling?”

“Look,” you held the little plastic container up and rattled it around, bobbing your head as if there was some kind of beat to the sound.

“She made her teeth into a maraca.” Kiara mentioned, looking back at the four of you as she signed you out.

“That’s definitely some serial killer shit.” JJ replied, grabbing your bag off the floor and heading towards the door, John B maneuvering the two of you to follow him.

“Where are we going?” You asked, suddenly concerned, twisting your body to see Kiara.

“We’re going outside.”

“What about Kie?”

“I’m right behind you, promise.” Kiara called, grabbing her stuff and following Pope out of the little house. “Are we headed back to the Chateau?” She asked as she walked around to the driver’s side of her suv.

When John B tried to put you in the backseat with JJ and Pope you protested, calling out shotgun. “I wanna sit next to Kie.”

“Okay, okay, we’re sitting you up front.” He promised opening the door and helping you in.

You leaned against the seat, laying your head on the headrest and turning to look at Kiara as she started the car and backed up into the road. “You’re so pretty.” You mused, drugs in full effect, killing whatever filter you would have usually had.

JJ leaned over enough to smack John B’s arm as Pope started filming the two of you.

“Thanks.” Kiara laughed, “you’re pretty too.”

“Do you really mean it?” You asked, looking a little teary eyed.

“Yeah of course, you’re super pretty.”

You smiled, leaning a little closer to her and just watching her for a minute before opening your mouth again, more damning information coming out. “I like you.”

Kiara looked back at the three boys through the rearview mirror before glancing over at you, unsure exactly what was happening right now. “I like you too.”

“Really?” You seemed even more moved by the idea that she also liked you and Kiara nodded.

“Yeah of course, you’re my best friend.”

You groaned, rolling your head against the headrest momentarily before turning back to her, “no, not like that. Not like friends. I like you so much, you’re so pretty and I just want to go on dates with you and kiss you and love you.” You confessed. “When we went swimming last week and you had the green bathing suit and you looked so pretty and I was just like...what if we were girlfriends.”

“Uh...” Kiara stopped the car at a stop sign, idling for longer than necessary as she fought the urge to look over at you, no doubt smiling at her like you had been since you got doped up, trying to process exactly what you’d just said to her.

“Any response there Kie?” John B asked, trying not to laugh as he leaned toward the driver’s seat.

“I think we should talk about this when you’re feeling a little less foggy.” She finally said, chancing a look over at you. She had been thrilled when you asked her to go with you into the dentist’s, as crazy as that sounded. But she got excited whenever you relied on her for something or asked her opinion or included her in something personal. She knew you were friends but it was always easy to pretend that it was something a little more than that. Hearing you say that you wanted to be her girlfriend had erupted an entire colony of butterflies in her stomach though she hadn’t quite envisioned this as the venue where you confessed your feelings.

“I’m not foggy...I’ve never been clearer.” You replied though she had trouble believing that considering your trouble walking down the stairs.

“She’s never been clearer.” JJ chimed in.

Kiara twisted in her seat, ready to tell the three of them that they could walk back to the Chateau if they didn’t shut up when a car pulled up behind her and beeped.

“Sorry dude, we’re having a friends to lovers moment!” JJ shouted out the window.

“I will come back there!” Kiara threatened as you giggled. The car behind them pulled around, slamming on their horn the whole time before finally throwing back the middle finger as they sped off.

“Some people man,” Pope muttered and Kiara glared at him as well.

“Why don’t we talk when we get to John B’s?” She offered, looking over at you.

“Why?” You asked, “you don’t like me? Are you gonna break up with me?”

“We’re not dating yet.”

“She said yet.” John B pointed out, smacking your shoulder like you were even coherent enough to understand the implication.

“Okay, I am driving this car the rest of the way and if any of you distracts me I will kick you out.” Kiara announced, turning back around to face the front and taking the car out of park to continue driving on. “We will talk at John B’s.”

“Okay.” You twisted in your seat, leaning against the backrest as smiling at her as you watched her drive.

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notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 14: Shinsou receives some surprising news, Eri-chan is adorable and Aizawa is 100% a proud dad. When you get back to Heights Alliance, Hagakure and Ashido have got a few tricks up their sleeves to push you and Ojiro together. Contains hints of all the ships: Kaminari x Jirou, Kirishima x Mina, Todoroki x Midoriya, Asui x Tokoyami. And a riveting game of truth or dare is finally enough for you and Ojiro to face the truth of the reason why your hearts beat so fast when you’re around each other.

Word Count: 9.9k

That night when you got back to Heights Alliance, you were exhausted but at least it wasn't even near curfew yet.

During dinner, your dad had announced that he talked to the principal and they decided to allow him to fully transfer.

Shinsou's eyes were wide in shock as Aizawa elaborated that he would start classes in the hero course starting next week and Eri clapped her hands together jubilantly, diving in his lap to hug him around his waist.

"Toshi-nii, yayyy!!!"

Shinsou awkwardly patted her on the back, still reeling at the bomb his mentor had just dropped on him. He hadn't been expecting it so soon. According to his sensei's plan, he was supposed to undergo three more weeks of training and then a series of tests that would accurately assess whether or not his physical capabilities had improved enough to let him in.

But Aizawa had made a call, one that told Nezu that the teenager was more than ready to take on the challenges that would come with the transfer. He could handle it. He was more than prepared.

You had squealed happily once the news broke and eagerly asked if anyone else knew about it, to which your dad blankly stated that Nezu had only just informed him, so no, none of your nosy classmates were aware yet.

Shinsou jolted out of his trance when you ran over to him and shook him violently, almost dislodging Eri as you asked over and over again which class he was going to pick.

He stared at you incredulously. "What the heck— Class A, now stop shaking me!!"

You immediately released him and cheered loudly, grabbing Eri to dance while Aizawa sidled over to his student.

"You okay, kid?" He asked with a touch of concern as Shinsou didn't react.

Blinking, Shinsou nodded slowly. "I just... I didn't expect it to come so soon."

Aizawa shrugged. "Well, you worked hard. You should be proud of yourself."

Shinsou looked down and swallowed hard. Was he proud? He didn't know. It all felt so sudden.

Aizawa's eyes softened as he picked up on the turmoil swirling inside of the younger and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't think about it so much. You worked hard, you earned your spot, Toshi."

After a pause, Shinsou dipped his head in hesitant agreement and Aizawa frowned, understanding why he felt he couldn't celebrate yet but almost wished that he allowed himself this accomplishment.

He had worked extra hard on his training on top of all his other schooling. If anyone deserved this, he did.

Another hour passed and after dessert, Eri could barely keep her eyes open.

Aizawa was reluctant to let you and Shinsou take a cab back to the dorms by yourselves since it was already dark out but he had to put Eri to bed and he made you both promise to text him the second you got back.

And under no circumstances were you two allowed to leave each other's sides until he confirmed it with a message that he had gotten your text.

Neither you nor Shinsou had rolled your eyes at the demanding tone he took with you like you normally would have done. This was too important.

The twenty minute ride that followed was uneventful at best but perhaps that was a good thing. It meant that nobody suspicious was lingering around and causing trouble.

"Thank you for your hard work!!" You said, bowing your head as the driver tipped his head in your direction before speeding off.

Shinsou elbowed you in the ribs, stuffing his hands in his pocket to fish around for his phone for a second before he found it. White light blinded him for a second before he got a handle on the device and adjusted the brightness so that it was no longer glaring in his face.

Sending a quick message to his mentor to let him know that you had both made it back safely, he shoved it back in his pocket, heading in the direction of Class 1-C's dorms when you latched around his arm.

"Where are you going?!" You wailed, hanging onto him with the help of your tail as he furiously tried to throw you off.

"Ack, get off of me, you little leech." Shinsou hissed, only growing more annoyed when you shook your head stubbornly and stuck your tongue out at him childishly. "Geez, you're worse than Eri."

The affronted gasp you let out was all the incentive he needed to pry you off and race towards the dorms.

"TOSHI!!!!" You shouted as you barreled after him and he laughed, so openly and freely that you forgot to be mad at him for the comment you know he didn't mean about Eri.

He loved her, he really did, and you knew that the only reason why he said that was to rile you up and get under your skin so you would let go. You hated how it worked.

Waving goodbye for now, you two parted ways.

"Welcome back, L/N-san!!" Midoriya greeted earnestly as you stepped through the doors.

You skipped over to him, giving him a hug as a greeting and he stammered, clearly affected by your presence. Giggling, you took mercy on your friend and did a quick scan of the commons.

Tokoyami, Koda and Hagakure were studying on the couches, Kirishima hanging over Koda's shoulders in an attempt to get the difficult material through his head.

Sato was in the kitchen, no surprise there, but the additional presence of Kaminari had you doing a double-take.

"Uh, are you sure he's meant to be there?" You asked skeptically, jabbing a thumb towards the electric blond who had his tongue poking out in concentration as he stirred something in a mixing bowl.

Sero barely spared a glance in the direction you pointed at, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he concentrated on beating Ashido in this round of Mario Cart.

"He hasn't burnt anything down or caused a power outage yet, so Iida says it's okay." He told you, cheering when he passed the finish line first.

As Ashido was left to pout, you observed Kaminari for a second longer. It was rare to see him so focused on a task, you were almost wondering what happened to him.

"Psst!!"

You leaned over as Hagakure gestured for you to come closer, envisioning the smirk the invisible girl must have had on her face as you complied.

"He's getting Sato-kun to teach him how to make chocolates for Jirou!!" She whispered to you so discreetly that none of the boys surrounding her picked up on it as they talked over the paper they had to finish by the end of this weekend.

Tonight wasn't a school night, thankfully, so everyone was a little more relaxed. Which, if you thought about it, actually made sense since less than half of the class that was downstairs was working on homework.

In the group of seven girls, it wasn't a secret that Jirou was harboring a bit of a crush on the electric blond, but what was a surprise to you was that those feelings looked like they were returned.

Your heart skipped a beat and you fought the urge to jump for joy, knowing full well that Jirou would not appreciate you spilling the beans on that secret.

It was just so cute!!

It was nowhere near Valentine's Day, so you wondered what got his heart twisted in a bunch to do this for her, but you couldn't say you were complaining. Practically the whole class was waiting for one of them to confess.

Ashido even managed to lock the two of them in a closet together but it didn't go anywhere, much to her dismay, and she spent the rest of the week dodging Jirou's earphone jack before she readily apologized and the other girl begrudgingly forgave her.

All of that going on took away from the fact that Kaminari's shoulders slumped in defeat as he trudged back to his room, locking himself away for the rest of the day. No one had noticed it except for Kirishima and Hagakure, who happened to look his way by chance.

You were glad that he was doing this though. Something told you he still intended to go after her until he worked up the courage to confess.

It was rather endearing.

Slinking stealthily to the stairwell to avoid drawing the attention of the rest of your classmates, you raced upstairs to the room of the one person you wanted to see the most since he wasn't on the common floor.

Knocking on the door, you bent over your knees and caught your breath before opening it a fraction when you heard him say you could come in.

"Hey," You said softly, bounding inside as he motioned invitingly and nuzzled the top of Ojiro's head from where he was seated at his desk, slaving away over the math problems he got assigned earlier that day.

He turned around the instant you stepped into the room, attention shifting over to you as his tail curled around you in a brief hug.

"You're back." Ojiro breathed in relief, his eyes flitting over you for a second. "Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah," You giggled, flopping onto his bed, propping your head up with one hand. "Shinsou nearly won the last match they had."

Ojiro laughed, striding over to you and knelt down by your side. "Nearly?"

"Mmhm..." You hummed. "Dad put him in a headlock though that he couldn't get out of."

Ojiro smiled at your tease, shaking his head slightly but was ultimately glad that you were just happy. Even if it had been at the expense of Shinsou.

He was one of the only ones that knew exactly where Aizawa's flat was, that information strictly to be used in an emergency situation only.

The last thing Aizawa wanted was for them to destroy the peace and tranquility he had at home on his days off when he didn't have to deal with something being broken, set on fire, or carelessly thrown around that required funds to fix it.

No way.

The rest of his classmates were aware of how much time their teacher spent with you and Shinou outside of class but nobody minded the favoritism, all equally aware of how tough Aizawa got on you two especially during school.

With your background and Shinsou's aloofness, it was only natural for most of them to be glad that their sensei had taken to you two so well.

Most of them.

Bakugou had exploded on more than one account that he didn't care but in truth, he was just as curious to see where you and the brainwashing kid left after school. You both always came back rather late, it was odd.

Shoji had expressed his concern on more than one occasion, wondering if you really were safe enough to come back on your own after it got dark out but you waved him off, reassuring him that the phone Jirou had bought for you and taught you how to use was very effective in calling emergency services when you pressed a simple button.

You weren't worried. You felt safe.

Safer than you had in years.

You squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the bed even though nothing helped to quell the heat you felt creeping up your neck at Ojiro's closeness.

He raised an eyebrow and you swore you saw a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Y/N?"

That time, there was no mistaking the playful lilt in his voice and you fumbled, throwing the blankets up in your haste to hide under them.

Ojiro's voice was muffled when he called out to you and even though you tried desperately to block it out, nothing worked, your mortification only growing as he pinched a corner of your makeshift den, as though he was going to lift it up.

This wasn't fun. He got too much joy out of teasing you when you two were alone, it was so unfair!!

He always managed to catch you off-guard somehow, with those sweet smiles that radiated kindness and were the beacon of your hope.

It wasn't your fault!! You got flustered easily!!

Throwing off the blankets with a huff, you kept your arms pinned to your body as you pouted up at him.

"Don't tease me!!" You cried indignantly and he laughed.

"I'm not." Ojiro replied but the twinkle in his eye all but gave him away.

You pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You are!!"

Chuckling, Ojiro caught your hand when it flailed in his direction and lowered it gently. "Okay, maybe I am."

"See?!"

As he laughed again, you pushed your bottom lip out even further but when it clearly wasn't dying down, you shuffled back under the blankets until only the top of your head peeked out.

"Y/N, come on out." Ojiro tried to coax, biting his lip when your ears flopped around as you shook your head stubbornly. "I'm sorry for teasing you."

At the genuine tone, you cautiously pulled down the covers, gazing at him suspiciously. "You are?"

Ojiro nodded. "Yes."

As you sat up, satisfied with his apology, you squeaked in surprise when he accidentally leaned closer to you in the process.

Neither one of you expected that proximity. You blushed and stammered while Ojiro ducked his head down to avoid your gaze.

Nothing could be heard except your breathing and the rustle of his tail as he accidentally knocked something over, both of you wincing as the silence was broken.

You giggled slightly, feeling a bit ridiculous. "Mashirao?"

You almost fell over when you caught his eye, the sheer amount of tenderness in his gaze making your heart pound and blood rushed to your head when he hugged you carefully.

"I'm sorry, you're just... very easy to fluster." He said slowly, choosing his words carefully, wondering if you could somehow hear how hard his heart was pounding.

"Oh..." You trailed off quietly, unsure about how that made you feel. So he was teasing you. That hurt a bit more than you thought it would.

But Ojiro's arms tightened around you when you tried to wrangle free, sensing your sadness as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "Wait, I didn't word that right."

You could barely breathe, not daring to take a breath for fear that this moment would shatter. The atmosphere was heavy and it felt as though an invisible tapestry had draped over you both, only to be lifted when he got the courage to say what was weighing on his heart.

"It's... very cute." Ojiro admitted sheepishly, growing shy as you blinked at him innocently. "You're... cute."

His hesitation probably should have raised red flags but they didn't, and that was because you knew he was being completely honest with you. He was never one to waste breath on saying something he thought was unimportant.

It was odd, the giddiness that overcame you as you bumped your nose against his, a spark of joy running through your system as you heard him voice that he thought you were cute.

"Really?!"

Ojiro laughed breathlessly. "Yeah."

It was short but it was sweet. You nudged his jaw and he tilted it instinctively to let you scent him. Sighing when his comforting scent flooded over you, you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes as he hugged you closely.

You could feel his solid body pressing against yours, it was warm and safe. It felt like home.

Ojiro's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he caressed your hair, drawing back to whisper into your ear before he lost his nerve.

"Y/N, there's one more thing I want to tell you."

You hummed, your tail wagging in lazy eagerness as the appendage answered for you and he laughed nervously, his own tail flexing anxiously as he thought about what he was finally going to confess.

What he was finally going to say after a whole month of debating about it.

His feelings went deeper than a crush. He knew that much. Every time you walked into the room, he was left wondering when you would come over to him and every time you left, he always worried about where you were going and if you were safe.

Nothing set his heart at ease other than having you in his arms after a long day of classes and rigorous training. There was nothing like inhaling your sweet scent and breathing you in until you both fell asleep in each other's arms, limbs tangled together on his bed or yours.

How a proud smile never failed to appear on his face whenever you worked your way through something that was difficult, whether it was an emotional or physical barrier that prevented you from achieving what you wanted to achieve.

You were brave. You were kind. And you were so strong.

Ojiro took a deep breath. "I lov—"

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him, effectively making the two of you spring apart and shattering the bubble you had been in.

“Downstairs in ten minutes!!!” Hagakure’s voice floated through the door as she jumped up and down excitedly outside. “And no excuses, we’re playing a game!!”

The rapid footfalls signaled that she had scampered away, presumably to rope the rest of your friends into this little game that she had schemed up on the fly.

You glanced at Ojiro, clapping a hand over your mouth when he stood up and almost tripped.

“I’m sorry—” You giggled, unable to help it at the mock insulted look on his face. “I don’t know why I’m laughing!!”

You really didn’t. You certainly didn’t think it had anything to do with how fast your heart was beating at how close he was to saying something you dearly hoped wasn’t a trick of your mind.

You guessed you would never know now.

Timidly taking his hand as he offered it to you, you bit back a smile as he grabbed your favorite plushie and handed it to you.

“We’re going down now?” You asked curiously as he led you out and closed the door behind him. “Hagakure said we don’t need to be downstairs until ten more minutes.”

Ojiro shrugged slightly, giving you a small smile. “I don’t want them to take all the good seats.”

Throwing your head back, you laughed at the cheeky reply as the two of you made your way to the vacant common floor.

The TVs had been turned off as well as all the lights and you didn’t bother turning them on as you got comfortable on one of the couches in the living area.

Five minutes passed.

You wriggled on Ojiro’s lap, trying to contain your excitement. It was almost 11 pm at night, way past Bakugou’s bedtime, and you were currently keeping yourself occupied until everyone else got down here, wondering what Hagakure had planned for tonight.

Given no other explanation, you played with your lion plushie while you waited for her to come back and explain what was going on.

“Y/N…” Ojiro said with a smile and you froze in place.

Willing your tail to calm down and stop tickling his face, you giggled as he rested his chin on top of your shoulder, your cheeks pinking.

“Sorry…” You said sheepishly but he shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He chuckled, holding back a fond smile.

You were playing with Koko to keep yourself entertained while you waited and his heart warmed when you dropped a kiss on its fuzzy head. It wasn’t as though you didn’t use the presents that your friends gave you but this was special because this was the one he had given to you.

And this was the one you held every night before you went to sleep.

Everyone else came in a slow trickle, most of the boys obviously skeptical of how Ashido managed to get them all roped up in it.

“What’s all of this about?” Kirishima asked earnestly, pulling his stubborn best friend who was violently protesting the entire way behind him that this was a waste of time and that he needed his sleep.

Somehow, he had managed to bring Bakugou along. You weren’t sure that was a win though, with how disgruntled the explosion boy looked from being woken up.

“Why do I have to be here?” Jirou grumbled, dragging her feet as Ashido tugged her along.

“Because~” The pink girl whined. “It’ll be fun!!”

“This is not my idea of fun.” She sighed but reluctantly caved in and took a seat next to Shoji, sitting cross-legged on the couch and twirled one of her jacks around a finger.

Ashido clapped her hands to garner everyone’s attention, smiling widely.

You snuggled further into Ojiro, wanting nothing more than to curl up and take a nap on him. You had thought you would be more nervous around him after what you thought he had almost said before he was interrupted but there was nothing other than the pleasant hum of your heart.

Today had been taxing with news that Shinsou’s dream was finally going to be put into motion and you really didn’t want to do anything else besides sleep in his embrace. His hand landed on top of your head and he stroked your hair evenly until you almost drifted off.

That was, until you heard what Hagakure announced next.

“Let’s play truth or dare!!!” She squealed and you nearly fell off of Ojiro in shock.

Eyes wide in horror, you could practically see the mischievous glint in her eye and your mind raced at a mile per minute.

Oh no, no, no, no, no—

“Y/N’s going first!!” Hagakure shouted.

“No way!!” You sputtered in disbelief, cheeks coloring as all eyes turned on you. “Why do I have to go first?!”

Sensing your unease, Ojiro intervened.

“Maybe we should play another game?” He suggested diplomatically.

Ashido pouted, planting her hands on her hips. “Noooooo I have a question I want to ask Kirishima really bad!!”

Kirishima blinked in shock and pointed to himself as though he couldn’t believe that out of everyone, she had something to ask him. “Me?”

Your shoulders sagged in relief as she hadn’t called you out but that didn’t make you any less wary of her or Hagakure’s intentions. They were both well known for being deceptively crafty when it came to anything romance related and you were sure you weren’t safe just because you were friends.

Todoroki had Soba in his lap and was petting him idly, largely ignoring the chaos raging around him while everyone bickered about the order to go in.

Yaoyorozu and Midoriya pitched in that there should be an impartial game of chance to determine who was going first, Iida echoing their reasoning with swift hand chops and a shout that could be heard above the clamor.

Eventually, for fairness, Ashido ended up using Aoyama’s idea of putting everyone’s name in a hat that Yaoyorozu created for random drawing.

The person selected could ask anyone a question, even if they’ve already gone and once they’re done, the selectee picks another name from the hat.

No matter if the person picked truth or dare, if the person doesn’t want to answer the question or do the dare, they’d have to prank Aizawa.

During class. In front of everyone as proof.

And no one wanted to cross their homeroom teacher. Not even you wanted to take chances with your dad. He could be extremely scary when woken up from his nap during homeroom and no one was willing to take a chance on their life just to avoid answering a question or to negate a silly dare.

Because everyone knew that their lives would be at stake if it boiled down to their furious homeroom teacher who had been disrupted by their antics.

With that, the game began.

Surprisingly, Yaoyorozu got drawn first, and being the kind person she was, she asked Uraraka if she would like to go on an all-paid-for shopping spree the next day they had off, to which Uraraka promptly burst into tears at her friend’s generosity, blubbering out an agreement of sorts.

Once she collected herself, Uraraka drew next, getting Koda and asked him if there were any pets that he would like to own. He shyly signed that he had been wanting to take care of a Mamushi, a Japanese pit viper, but was uncertain about how Kawaii-chan would deal with the snake if and when he got one.

The stunned silence that followed was not surprising since this was so far left-field, it even caught Bakugou off-guard.

Koda drew from the hat, sweating nervously when he opened it up and saw the name.

“... Bakugou…”

Bakugou’s forehead irked in annoyance.

“Dare.” He spat before Koda even got a chance to ask him.

Koda’s nervousness grew to unprecedented levels at the red aura emitting from the enraged pomeranian, stumbling over his words so much so that you felt bad for him. He could barely form his thoughts, let alone get his words out.

“I dare you to be nice to Midoriya for one day.” Koda said quietly, shaking frightfully as the aura increased to murderous and he squeaked, absolutely petrified.

Ashido slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing as Sero and Kaminari promptly burst into tears of hysteria, smacking their thighs as they howled in laughter.

“Bakugou, that’s enough.” Shoji instructed evenly, shielding Koda before the seething teen could jump on him, though it did nothing to stop the sparks from popping in his hand.

“Why the fuck do I have to be nice to shitty Deku?!” Bakugou exploded, whirling around at the sound of a throat clearing calmly.

“Are you saying you can’t do it?” You asked slyly without cracking an eye open and Ojiro nearly lost it.

Bakugou scowled. “Like hell I can’t!!”

“Well then!!” You clapped your hands, sitting up as you flashed him a cheeky grin. “Then this should be no problem for the number one hero, right?”

Bakugou growled at you but he knew he had landed himself in this trap. You had covered it with honey and like an idiot, he went after it.

“Fuck.” He hissed under his breath, snapping around to face a petrified Midoriya head-on. “I’m going to fucking kill you—”

“Ah, ah, ah!!” You tsked, wagging a finger at him. “Play nice, remember? 24 hours starts now.”

Bakugou raged for a good five minutes before sitting down heavily, glaring holes into the back of Midoriya’s head.

You flashed Koda a thumbs-up and he smiled at you gratefully for enforcing the dare he wouldn’t have been able to do.

The next several rounds passed by in the blink of an eye.

Bakugou dared Aoyama to go outside and yell that he loves cheese, Tokoyami got dared by Aoyama to go the entirety of next week without wearing black, and Tokodoki was dared to leave Soba in the care of Bakugou, to which he promptly responded that he’d rather pour water over Aizawa’s head.

Next week was going to be interesting.

You giggled at the horrified expression on Tokoyami’s face that he had to go without all next week without wearing his favorite color, so much so that you missed your name being called until Ashido and Hagakure screamed excitedly.

“Y/N!!!!!”

You nearly jumped ten feet into the air. “AHHH, WHAT?!?!”

Ashido grinned, rubbing her hands evilly. Todoroki had just gotten done asking her a question about what her favorite food was.

“Oh, Y/N-chan~” Ashido sang and you sweated nervously, subconsciously leaning back into Ojiro’s chest as she trained her golden irises glimmering with mischief on you.

Hagakure tugged on her sleeve, whispering something in her ear and a crafty grin spread across her lips.

“Truth or dare?!”

“T-Truth…?” You stammered out uncertainly, wary of that look in her eye.

Your heart plummeted as Ashido clapped her hands gleefully.

Oh no.

Ashido wasted no time leaning forward and peering at you with her eyes gleaming.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” She asked cheekily, already knowing the answer thanks to your slip up the last time all you girls had gathered.

Your fingers halted from where they were playing with Ojiro’s hands and you squeaked.

Behind you, Ojiro went rigid as he tensed underneath you and his breath hitched, unconsciously waiting for your answer along with the rest of your classmates.

Playing with your tail anxiously, your ear twitched and heat warmed your face, setting it on fire the instant her question hit you.

Biting your lip, you uttered quietly a noise of confirmation that had Hagakure squealing and Ashido jumping for joy.

The majority of the boys looked shocked but Bakugou rolled his eyes, thinking everyone had to be blind not to see it.

“Who is it?!” Hagakure demanded, trying to get you to admit it and you just flashed her a smile.

“Nope, I already answered the question.” You said, grinning widely at her whine, thinking you found a loophole to this little game of cat and mouse they were playing with you.

Despite her protests and Ashido’s pouts, you drew another name from the hat, passing the torch of attention over to Sato as he was picked.

Once he picked truth, you eagerly asked Sato if he would ever open his own bakery one day and he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully as he said he always wanted to but he wasn’t sure that his creations were good enough.

You shouted incredulously, blurting out that you thought they were amazing along with the rest of the girls, Shoji even inputting that he thought that as well.

“These truths are so tame.” Kaminari complained after almost everyone had gone once. “There needs to be more dares.”

“Ooooo, then why don’t we switch it up!!” Uraraka said, her eyes shining excitedly at the prospect of a challenge. “Only dares from now on!!”

“Eh?!” You yelped. “What, why?!”

“YES, GREAT IDEA!!!!” Ashido squealed and you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“No…” You moaned.

Aside from knowing that they had something up their sleeves planned for you, you were really not looking forward to doing whatever that was. You didn’t want to be involved in any of this or have anybody’s attention on you, all you wanted to do was watch your friends have fun.

This was going to be a disaster.

Ojiro chuckled as Kirishima threw an empty paper plate in Bakugou’s face but even he couldn’t stop his heart from palpitating and he prayed that you couldn’t feel it against your back.

You hugged Koko to your chest anxiously as the dares got more and more bold, elaborate and downright ridiculous.

Asui got dared to peck Tokoyami on the cheek, Sero got challenged to a match with Bakugou the next time they trained together and Yaoyorozu had to go without buying anything from online stores for three days.

The only reason why Sero didn’t make it involve all the stores was because he knew she’d go crazy.

And then, the dreaded time for your second turn came around.

Luckily, neither Ashido or Hagakure drew your name, it was Yaoyorozu instead.

Her eyes were sympathetic as she regarded your fidgeting form.

“Y/N-chan,” She started, loud enough for everybody to hear. “You must spend 30 minutes with Ojiro-san in the pantry.”

It was silent at first, then the uproar started.

“WHAT?!?!” You shrieked, your face bright red.

You couldn’t see it, but Ojiro was wearing an identical expression of shock and embarrassment as Jirou laughed along with Uraraka and Kaminari, Iida loudly shouting for them to have some restraint.

“Go go go!!!” Ashido and Hagakure cheered together, yanking you up to your feet while Sato hauled Ojiro up to his, subsequently pushing the two of you together until you fell inside the pantry.

You immediately fell and Ojiro toppled in after you.

The lock that clicked sealed your fate and you whimpered at the sudden darkness that encompassed the two of you.

Ojiro’s eyebrows scrunched together in the dark, concerned that you had hurt yourself. “Y/N?”

You feebly answered that you were okay, knowing that he must be worried about you, and your hands knocked into his as you scoured the tiled floor on all fours, searching for your fallen plushie in the cramped space.

“Koko…” You whined, your eyes lighting up when your fingers brushed against something soft.

You could almost hear the smile in Ojiro’s voice. “That’s my tail.”

You drew back, yelping in pain as the back of your head banged against the shelf and a lump got caught in your throat when Ojiro scrambled over you.

“Y/N!! Are you okay?!”

You mumbled out an embarrassed yes, losing your ability to say anything else as he pressed up against you. He was so close.

Too close.

There was almost no breathing room between you two and all you could feel, hear, and sense was Ojiro’s labored breathing and the soft swish that his tail made as he balanced himself over you so he wouldn’t crush you.

A pout formed on your lips and even though he couldn’t see it, you made sure that the forlorn whine in your tone carried through. “Koko…”

Ojiro fingers clumsily found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief at having found where you were. “I’m sure you just dropped her outside.”

You hummed disappointedly, ears flicking as you heard the conversation pick back up outside, indicating that the rest of your scheming friends resumed their game. At least you were in here and not out there in this predicament.

You didn’t want to know what they would say if they say you guys like this.

“Um, Mashirao?” You whispered, scooting up a little bit so that you were sitting on your bottom.

It was a bit awkward. His knees bumped into yours more than once as he figured out how to situate himself and you squeaked when he pressed against you in an attempt to find space somewhere.

Repeating his name when he had settled down, opting for slotting his legs around yours that were propped up so that he was no longer crowding you, you sighed to yourself.

“How long do you think it’s been?” You asked curiously, oblivious to the crimson staining his cheeks due to the lack of light.

Ojiro cleared his throat, forcing his tail to stop swishing nervously, lest he knock something over and clue you in on his anxiousness. Being in here with you and being this close was making his heart pound and his palms sweat.

It was too much, and at the same time, not enough.

Because he still had yet to tell you how he felt.

“Y/N—” He started quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

You were startled since you thought that he would just want to sit in silence until the time was up and you found yourself nodding instinctively before you realized he couldn't see you.

“Y-Yes, of course you can.” You stammered out, cursing yourself for your inability to form a coherent sentence without stumbling over your words when you were around him.

Once. Just once you wanted to know what it was like to speak with complete and utter self-control and clarity when it came to him.

Your massive crush on him probably wouldn’t ever let you.

Ojiro played with his tail absentmindedly, able to find a sliver of comfort in the familiar way it felt in his hands as he prepared himself for the inevitable heartbreak. “Who… Who do you like?”

You froze and you swore the temperature in the cluttered pantry dropped by several degrees.

“W-What?!” You squeaked.

“Earlier, when Ashido asked if you liked anyone… you said yes.” Ojiro reiterated, avoiding looking at you even though he knew you wouldn’t judge him.

Not that you could, you could barely make out his shape in this darkened place.

“I-I—”

You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one.

Ojiro’s tone morphed into curiosity. “What are they like?”

The underlying sadness went unnoticed as you frantically tried to think of a way out of this situation and you tripped over your words in your haste to get out.

“I… You… Argh!!”

Ojiro nearly jumped out of his skin as empty cans clattered down on the floor from where your tail had gone rogue and knocked them all off of the shelf. They really should get rid of those and free up some more space in the endlessly full pantry but Asui liked to use the empty ones for growing water lilies when they were nothing more than just a pink or white bud.

“... Y/N?” Ojiro prompted, hearing you go quiet.

You hesitated. You really didn’t want to say this but all your thoughts were filled with him and only him. You hardly knew at this point if it was because you were actively trying not to think about him that made things this way or if you were really just that obsessed with him.

I’m screwed, aren’t I?

“He’s kind.”

Ojiro broke out of his stupor once he realized you had actually answered him.

You smiled softly to yourself, envisioning the dumbfounded look that must be on his face, knowing that’s how he got every single time you said something about him.

“He’s sweet, not just to me, but to everyone else.” You continued quietly. “His eyes always light up when something makes him happy and he’s such a good friend…”

Ojiro felt like he was hearing all of this underwater as you continued to speak so highly of this mystery guys, his heart breaking with every word you said. And he thought he was so sure that if you didn’t return his affections, that you at least thought of him as a good friend but now he wasn’t so sure after hearing all of that.

It seemed like this guy that you were crushing on hung the stars in the sky. You spoke of him like he was your whole world.

Ojiro swallowed thickly, blinking back tears.

Maybe this guy could take better care of you than he could.

You couldn’t see it but you sensed the mood change in the air and shifting to move onto your hands and knees, you padded forward curiously, nervously wondering if he had figured it out and didn’t return your feelings.

Pushing that aside once your ears picked up on the sound of his sniffles, your brow creased in concern, worried about him.

“M-Mashirao?! Are you okay?!” You asked frantically, keeping your voice low so that you didn’t draw the attention of your friends outside. This would be the worst possible moment for them to open the door.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m fine.” Ojiro managed to respond, closing his eyes briefly to gather himself. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Your being filled with apprehension as his hand skimmed the side of your face to find it in the dark before plopping on top of your head to ruffle your hair reassuringly. But you let out a slight whine when he pulled away quicker than normal.

“You don’t sound fine…” You whimpered worriedly, nudging your nose against his hand as you located it easily.

While your eyes took a longer time to adjust seeing in the dark, your senses were sharp and you detected his ragged breathing as well as how his hands drew back before fisting at his sides.

He definitely wasn’t okay.

And you thought you might be imagining it, but was that hurt in his voice that he tried to mask? Was he offended that you thought so highly of him?

Ojiro’s eyes glazed over as he heard you whimper sadly and he sucked in a breath. And even though his heart was shattered, he still wrapped his arms around you and tugged you close to him.

“Y/N, I—” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, unable to form the words he wanted to say and he sighed. “I hope you find happiness.”

You blinked up at him, tucking in your knees tight. You couldn’t relax against him, physically incapable of it since the comfort his presence usually brought you was nowhere to be found at the heavy sadness in his tone.

You stuttered, “I-I— Mashirao, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me who it is.” Ojiro said sorrowfully, hushing you quietly as his jaw clenched in jealousy. “I just hope that Shinsou’s able to protect you well enough.”

Bolting upright at the shock of his name, your jaw dropped. “Shinsou?!”

Ojiro cocked his head to the side. “Isn’t it him?”

You shook your head so fast that he felt the air whip around him from the force of your hair flying.

“Todoroki?”

Another head shake, faster than the last.

“Sato?”

No.

“Shoji?”

No.

“Kaminari?”

No.

“Bakugou?”

No!!

Ojiro was running out of options. “Then who? Is he in our grade?”

“It’s you!!” You blurted out in frustration, unable to prevent yourself from holding back any longer.

Ojiro’s entire body tensed in shock, his eyes going wide at your confession and the hands on your waist stilled as he sucked in a sharp breath.

You pounded your fists on his chest, your head falling on his shoulder, unconsciously leaning into him and seeking him out as your anxiety took over.

“You dummy.” You mumbled, shaking in fear of a rejection.

You should’ve been more prepared for this. As the time ticked by, he still failed to say anything in response and your heart was going into overdrive.

Pushing his hands away, you tried to untangle from him but that apparently disrupted whatever trance he was in because his arms tightened around you, preventing you from getting up.

“No, wait—” Ojiro protested, his mind spiraling as he tried to collect his thoughts before you could leave. “Y/N!!”

Your skin prickled with unease at hearing him call it out so panicked, like he was afraid he’d lose you. You were the one who was worried about that, why should he care so much?

“It’s fine.” You sniffled, wiping your nose furiously with the back of your hand as you attempted to backpedal again, only to be stopped by his strong arms. “Ojiro-san, let go—”

“Mashirao.” Ojiro corrected brokenly. “You… My name, call me by my given name.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head against his shoulder as he squeezed you closely to him and you squirmed. You thought you had lost that privilege to call him by his first name, the intimacy a sour taste in your mouth as you realized that some other girl would get to call him that one day.

“Y/N.”

You stopped fighting against him but refused to meet his gaze.

Ojiro’s hand slid under your jaw, tipping your head up and this close, you could see his eyes shining with emotion.

“It’s you.” He murmured breathlessly, his eyes softening as they filled with the deepest amount of pure love. “It’s always been you, Y/N.”

Gasping, you nearly choked as he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath puffing out over your cheeks and you giggled uncontrollably as he pulled your legs across his, tucking your head under his chin.

“You were talking about me?”

The disbelief in his voice had you wiggling out from under him.

“Yeah,” You blushed, thinking about how much you gushed about him before he actually knew that you were referring to him. You thought it was obvious that you were talking about him. “Was— I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Ojiro bumped his nose against yours reassuringly. “You didn’t.”

He could have hid it better if you were so close to him but since you were, you could feel the air around you stir as his tail thumped happily against the wall.

Though, you couldn’t blame him. Yours was just as bad, hitting his side every time and you were about to apologize when he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I love you.” Ojiro confessed softly, his heart pounding in his ears as he finally told you what he had wanted to tell you for so long.

From the very first moment he saw you, he knew he wanted to protect you. He wasn’t sure when that feeling morphed into something stronger, paired with the desire to call you his but the pang that went through his heart every single time he saw you with someone else clued him in that his feelings may have run deeper than he was willing to admit.

You tried to stop it but a wide smile still spread from ear to ear and your heart skipped a beat. “You do?”

He nodded, bending his knees slightly to bring you impossibly closer and you giggled at the action, recalling what had happened before Hagakure had accidentally interrupted you.

“Is that what you were about to say earlier?” You asked curiously.

Ojiro floundered for a second, trying to think of a half-believable excuse that you would take, but then realized he had nothing to hide now that you already knew. He chuckled slightly and nodded, albeit nervous when you started playing with his hands.

“Y/N?” He whispered, his exhales hitting the top of your head as he held you.

You smiled to yourself, unable to explain the happiness that swelled in your chest, skyrocketing the moment he said that.

“I love you too.” You replied softly.

As cheesy as it sounded, it was true.

He was your first friend, your first confidant, the first person you fell in love with and now, your first boyfriend. He was the person you trusted the most next to your dad.

You laughed slightly, your tail fluffing out in embarrassment, unsure of why you were laughing but you supposed it had something to do with the fact of the astonishment that your pining after him hadn’t been for nothing.

It was mutual.

To be honest, your head was still reeling and you weren’t sure you were going to be coming down from cloud nine anytime soon.

Ojiro smiled down at you fondly, his heart squeezing as you beamed up at him joyously.

“Princess…” He murmured softly.

Your ears perked up happily and you rubbed your nose against the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. It rolled over you in waves and a happy rumble emitted from the back of your throat.

“... I like it when you call me that…” You mumbled shyly, burrowing your face into his neck when he tried to catch a glimpse of your face.

Ojiro smiled, elated. “Princess~”

“Nooooooooo…” You whined, hitting his shoulder weakly. “Don’t tease me.”

He let out a small laugh, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Sorry, princess.”

“You don’t sound sorry at all.” You grumbled but you weren’t really upset about it.

You couldn’t wait to hear it more often, more freely and similarly, Ojiro couldn’t wait to use it all the time since it was practically second nature to him by now.

You were just so pure, so soft. Oh All Might, he loved you so much.

It was close to a year since he first met you and he couldn’t help it. He fell for you so hard but he didn’t regret a thing. And he couldn’t wait to tell Holly.

She would be jumping for joy the instant he told her, he could already see it.

Ojiro tapped your knee lightly to catch your attention as you continued to trace random patterns on his chest. “... What do you think about messing with them a bit?”

You sat up straighter, knowing exactly who he was talking about, a mischievous grin slipping onto your face as he whispered the plan into your ear.

It was payback time.

Half an hour went by rather quickly, most of Class 1-A eagerly awaiting to see what the current situation inside the pantry was.

Most were hoping that a confession of some sort had taken place, since Tokoyami was exasperated on how clueless the two of you were around each other.

Seriously.

You guys had been chasing each other for months now. Everyone was getting sick of the puppy love, memory on all of their phones stocked with snapshots of the two of you together when you were looking.

At first it was cute, but honestly, seeing you chase your own tail would be more adorable and endearing than seeing the two of you stammer around each other like it was nobody’s business.

Ashido and Uraraka hoped that you and Ojiro would be kissing when they threw open the door but that wasn’t exactly what the picture was.

Instead, an image of you on the floor across from Ojiro greeted the entirety of the class.

Kaminari nearly fell off of Kirishima’s head from where he was stacked on top of him and Jirou’s eyes widened in surprise.

Bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you extras damn long enough.”

There you sat. With a chip halfway to your mouth.

“Seriously?!” Hagakure shrieked incredulously.

“I was hungry!!” You cried out, it coming out more muffled than you intended as your cheeks bulged hilariously. You looked more like a chipmunk in that moment rather than the wolf that you were.

“What’s your excuse?” Tokoyami asked blankly, catching his friend snacking alongside you.

Ojiro shrugged nonchalantly, popping a wasabi snack in his awaiting mouth and smacked his lips obnoxiously. “I was following her.”

Sero snickered and Kirishima grinned at his cheeky response. There was a glimmer in his eye that wasn’t present before and they knew that no matter how comfortable the two of you looked, something had changed between you.

Something for the better.

“THEY CONFESSED!!!!!” They chorused together, dancing around while wildly waving their arms about as they did a jig.

You almost choked, cheeks going rosy. “Eh?! W-Wait—”

“FINALLY!!!!” Ashido squealed. “THAT TOOK FOREVER!!!”

Ojiro’s expression matched yours in terms of mortification and he leaned forward as you shuffled behind him to hide.

“Y/N, you alright?” He asked softly as your classmates continued to chime in with how long that took and how much things were going to change.

You both blushed when Shoji told an excited Kaminari that it also meant you guys had the ability to kiss from now on, the girls cooing and most of the guys gagging.

“Yeah, I-I’m okay…” You mumbled into his back, finishing the rest of your food and taking his hand that helped you up. “Thank you.”

Ojiro smiled at you and this time, in the light, you could see how clearly radiant he was.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered quietly, hugging you once more before you both rejoined the chaos that was your class.

It took another few minutes to actually make your way back to the common room couches where everyone else had gathered because you pouted and said you wanted to stay in his arms longer.

That, and Ojiro was weak when it came to you.

You bounced when you jumped onto the couch, Shoji steadying you when it looked like you were about to fall and you flashed him a grin in thanks.

Shoji shook his head at your antics and Ojiro, who had been grabbing you a few more snacks from the pantry, rushed over, scanning over you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

You popped a cookie in your mouth. “Wufdidwemwis?”

Jirou blinked. “What?”

Breaking off a piece, you smiled broadly and it only grew wider when Ojiro handed you the discarded lion plushie you had lost a hold on when you were yanked to your feet. Squealing happily, you hugged it tight to your chest, beaming up at him in thanks.

“What did we miss?” You repeated, smothering Koko with hugs and kisses.

Todoroki didn’t even look like he moved once from his spot, in the exact same spot that you saw him last and he didn’t spare you a glance as he held up a feather just out of Soba’s reach so that he could bat at it playfully.

“Kaminari gave Jirou the chocolates he made for her, Ashido asked Kirishima out on a date and Asui has to go with Iida to switch out Aizawa-sensei’s sleeping bag to see if he notices it.” Todoroki relayed impassively before blinking once, realizing he had left one out.

“Oh, and Midoriya kissed me.” He deadpanned and your jaw fell to the floor.

“WHATTTTTT?!?!?!” You wailed. “I missed all of that?!?!?!”

Todoroki shrugged, playing with his kitten too much to pay any attention to your outcry. “It wasn’t much.”

“WASN’T MUCH?!?!?!”

He merely nodded. “I didn’t get to kiss him back.”

Ashido’s hand punched up in the air. “Next dare is for Todoroki to kiss Midoriya!!!”

“Okay.” Todoroki agreed, brushing off his clothes before getting close to a flushed Midoriya, yanking him over to smash his lips onto his.

The whoops and hollers echoed throughout the common floor, even Bakugou smirking as the damn nerd owned up to his crush. It was fucking weak to hold out for that long.

Confrontations were for the strong and brave of heart, just like he was.

Proudly, he watched from the sidelines. They were all shitty extras but they were his circle of extras and he’d be damned if he let anyone else say shit about them.

They were fucking happy.

Nevermind the fact that Kirishima and Kaminari were blushing ten different shades of crimson, Jirou was hiding in the corner with Shoji and Yaoyorozu’s aid as she tried to dodge all the questions you flung her way the second that Ashido exposed all the ships that sailed while you and Ojiro were having a heartfelt conversation.

“Spill it!!!” You exclaimed, shaking her shoulders furiously as though that was going to get her to answer you faster. “You have to tell me what happened!!! Kaminari gave you the chocolates already?! I missed it!!!!”

“Ack, calm down!!” Jirou shouted at you, blushing violently. “It’s not that big of a deal!!”

“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!?!?!” You yelled, your tail twice its size as you bounded in circles around her. “HE NEVER LIFTS A FINGER FOR ANYONE ELSE!!!”

“Hey!!” Kaminari pouted, insulted.

You grinned, planting your hands firmly on your hips. “It’s true.”

“H E Y.” He enunciated as he frowned, clearly put off and he lunged at you playfully.

You spent the rest of the night playing a deadly game of tag with the extremely flustered electric blond, having mercy on Kirishima cause the poor boy looked like he might faint at any moment.

Ojiro only got involved when you jumped over the couch and into his waiting arms to escape from the madman and he laughed when you claimed him as a safety spot.

Kaminari complained at your immunity, saying you needed it at the beginning for it to be effective but you shook your head stubbornly, looping your arms around a blushing Ojiro’s neck and sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Princess…” Ojiro chastised quietly but his low voice wasn’t enough to escape Jirou and Shoji’s enhanced hearing.

“Princess?” Jirou asked curiously.

The rest of your classmates’ jaws dropped in shock.

“PRINCESS?!?!?!” They all thundered unanimously.

Iida instantly shot up to his feet. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing them!!!”

Too late for that.

You giggled. Even if it was, it didn’t matter. You had them all by your side and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So let me get this straight, Ashido asked you out on a date?” You questioned slyly, aware of you pink-haired friend’s crush on him. You just didn’t think she’d act on it so soon.

“More like demanded.” Kirishima corrected dutifully, pink dusting his cheeks.

Ashido loomed over him. “Eh?! I asked!! And you said yes!!”

“Wah!!” Kirishima shouted, waving his hands frantically once he realized he gave off the wrong impression. “That’s not a bad thing, Mina— ack, wait!!”

Their antics dislodged Koko from your hold and you immediately burst into tears.

“Wahhhhh!!!”

The plushie was instantly thrown back at you by a disgruntled Bakugou and your cries ceased.

“Thank you, Boom Boy!!” You cheered.

His forehead creased in irritation and he scowled. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Hey,” Ojiro cut in, his eyebrows furrowing. “Come on, don’t swear at her.”

You waved it off, not minding it in the slightest. “It’s okay, that’s just Boom Boy’s love language.”

“Hah?! Like hell it is!!” Bakugou exploded at you and you rolled your eyes.

“See?”

“SAY IT TO MY FACE, DUMBASS!!!”

And when 3 am rolled around, everyone was passed out on the couches and sprawled in different places across the floor.

Iida was sitting upright on the couch, Yaoyorozu asleep on his shoulder. They looked normal, but they were the only ones.

Kirishima and Ashido had stayed up late talking, falling asleep against each other until they lost their balance and crashed to the ground, effectively waking them both up. They moved to a spot near the coffee table after that.

Kaminari’s mouth was hanging open, a dribble of drool obeying gravity from where he was hanging upside down like a monkey, the string of saliva pooling on Tokoyami’s cloak.

He was going to be pissed when he woke up.

The rest of the girls had bunched together, making a fort at the last minute so that they could all sleep in it.

Shoji was responsible and brought down blankets for those that wanted them, even throwing a few over some that he felt needed it.

Cough, Bakugou, cough.

Bakugou had passed out second to last, determined to claim his victory over you but you flicked his nose just as he was knocked out, a cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.

You won.

And when Aizawa arrived with Eri and Shinsou in the morning to help the latter move into his new dormitory, he raised an eyebrow at the mess that greeted him as Eri immediately bounded over to where you were, shaking you awake.

It didn’t pass unnoticed how you were tangled with Ojiro, your tail draped lazily over your own hip as his sturdy one was wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly close.

Aizawa heaved out a sigh, numbly pointing out where the elevators were so that Shinsou could get started before everyone else started to get up and make breakfast.

He wasn’t sure he approved of this, you two would face many challenges on your way to becoming pros, not to mention the hardships that would come with making this relationship work once you guys graduated but that all faded away the second he came closer to see you.

Ojiro’s hand was cradling your head carefully, even though he was unconscious, cushioning it in your sleep so that you were comfortable and your own hands had gone lax in fisting his shirt, probably in a sleepy attempt to draw him closer to you.

The corner of Aizawa’s mouth twitched humorously as Eri tried shaking you awake, only for you to roll further into Ojiro and snuggle into his chest, the said boy pulling you closer the instant you did with a contented sigh.

Oh well… Aizawa thought to himself as Eri drifted back to his side and softly asked if she could go upstairs and help Shinsou unpack. I suppose it could be worse.

She could’ve fallen for Bakugou instead.

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rissynicole · 4 years ago

Note

Any suggestions for writing dialogues? I mean, when it comes to punctuations and actions the characters perform.

Okay, this ask has been in my inbox for months at this point, and I've been saving it because 1) I wanted to write something meaningful and 2) I didn't know what I could write that hasn't already been said ad nauseam by other writers. I still don't know if anything I say will be particularly groundbreaking, but I'll try to be helpful. Keep in mind, I'm a young writer, myself. I'm still learning new things every day, and I'm far from a guru in the field.

This got long, so I’m going to put it under the cut:

The first thing I did was ask my mother this question, because I was interested in hearing her answer. She doesn't write fiction, herself, but she has been in the editing game for 30 some-odd years. She edits fiction for Harper Collins Publishing and has an eye for these things. However, her answer to this was very plain and simple.

She said, "All editing and punctuation exists to serve one key purpose: to not confuse the reader."

As far as grammar goes, that's the main goal. I was looking for something a little more hard and fast--some sort of rule in a style guide--and y'know, I'm sure there is a rule out there. But in a fairly fluid world of fiction writing and "rules are meant to be broken" mentalities, the most important thing to heed is the comprehension of your reader. As soon as you’ve confused your reader, you’ve made a mistake. Not a failure--but a mistake that needs to be fixed. I’ve made them; I’ve fixed them. Dialogue can be a particularly tricky area, because it’s like a minefield for these mistakes.

I’ll add an example of my dialogue and break it down a little bit:

‘“Soldier?’ Red said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

First and foremost, it should be clear who is speaking. I help this along by making sure the characters’ actions are in the same paragraph as their speech. It keeps it more comprehensive. Otherwise, it would read like this:

‘“Soldier?’ Red said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up.

‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls.

‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

Not completely indecipherable, but distracting enough to make the reader re-read it a few times. As far as formatting goes, it’s also not very pretty. Now, I’m not perfect with this. In fact, I still need to go through Parade and reformat some sections that might read like the above. However, it is a readability rule that I’m trying to follow more closely.

Another difficulty with ensuring you’re making it clear who’s speaking can be the use of pronouns. I’ll be the first to admit, writing with multiple characters who all use the same pronouns can be incredibly difficult. You can’t always just use “he said” as a tag. It’s too easy to hit a snag where the reader gets confused and doesn’t know who “he” is.

‘“Soldier?’ he said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

His grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

Sure, maybe this short passage isn’t so bad; It’s still fairly clear who’s speaking. But imagine if the entire book was that way: three, maybe four characters in the same room who all use he/his pronouns speaking without any further identification. It would get confusing and distracting. Lots of reading passages over again to try to decipher who is saying what and lots of frustration on the reader’s part. At the same time, always using the characters’ names can be tedious and unnecessary. Finding a good balance isn’t always easy, but it is worth it.

The golden rule, for me, is exactly as my mother said: “Do not confuse the reader.”

Below, I’ll add some additional dialogue tips I have picked up:

Constantly adding a tag can get tedious.

‘“Soldier?’ Red interrupted, cutting off the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’ he inquired.

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line,” Red replied.

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again,’” he muttered.

Sure, this makes sense. It’s clear who’s speaking. But it also doesn’t read as smoothly. Not to mention, the overabundance of different transitive verbs (interrupted, inquired, muttered), is stilted and almost mechanical in how the dialogue reads. Oftentimes, “said” is perfectly fine. Fun words like “muttered” and “interrupted” are great, too, but in moderation. Finding a happy medium can make all the difference.

Sometimes, a tag isn’t necessary at all.

This segues into my next piece of advice: it’s important to write dialogue in a way that still allows the reader to use their imagination. This is where I’ll go off on a bit of a rabbit trail, because this is something I’ve had to learn for myself recently.

Put trust in your reader to make up their own mind on how dialogue is spoken

I recently finished reading On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King (which, regardless of your opinions on King, was a very helpful book. I enjoyed it a lot). In one passage, he tells the reader to imagine an orange sitting on a table. Just that. He doesn’t give any further details. There is a 100% chance that we are all going to see something different in our minds. We are going to imagine a different table, a different room, and maybe even a different orange.

Sometime, description helps. Sometimes, a carefully placed lack of description lets the reader make up their own mind and encourages imagination. This advice has served me well in writing dialogue. I know it’s a tired old saying in any writer’s workshop: “never use adverbs in dialogue!” And to be honest, I still believe there can be a time and a place. But relying heavily on adverbs doesn’t do anything for the reader, except maybe shoehorn them into a state where they have to re-read dialogue with the new inflection.

‘“Soldier?’ Red said solemnly, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’ he asked weakly.

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line,” he replied sternly, in a flat monotone.

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again,’ he said lowly, almost inaudibly.

Again, this feels stilted, and doesn’t really leave anything to the imagination.

To better emphasize what I mean by this, I want to use a real example of it in action. (I hope you don’t mind, @sunnymelonpan!) Shortly after I read this advice and starting cutting down on over-describing dialogue and using adverbs, I wrote some IZ sickfic prompts. A friend of mine decided to draw up a comic based on one of them. This was not only incredibly flattering, but unexpectedly enlightening. I was able to see firsthand how other readers interpreted my dialogue. And lemme tell you, it wasn’t always exactly how I had envisioned it.

Here’s some dialogue I wrote for the prompt in question:

“Dib swiped the thermometer from him and pushed his glasses up his nose while he read it. ‘That’s because it isn’t going down. Huh.’

‘S-some help y-y-you are,’ Zim sneered.

‘Hey, give me a break. I’m doing my best. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend.’

Dib’s outline rose to its full height in Zim’s dimmed living room. He disappeared into the kitchen with the thermometer, then returned with something else in his hands. Without any warning, he placed it onto Zim’s forehead, scowling at the death glare he received in return.”

When I wrote this, I personally imagined Dib acting and speaking in a sort of annoyed, deflated way. Like he wasn’t really taking Zim’s harsh words seriously. Just a sort of eye-roll “yeah, whatever, Zim,” demeanor. That’s how I saw it.

This is how Sunny saw it:

In Sunny’s comic, Dib is genuinely angry. He gets annoyed, stands up, and actually berates Zim with these words.

I never made it clear how Dib spoke this line. Some people might look at this and say I failed as a writer because I didn’t explicitly say that Dib’s line was more casual than angry. I disagree. I left it up to the reader to interpret it as they chose. And Sunny surprised me by interpreting it in a way that was different. Not wrong! Just different. I positively loved seeing Sunny’s interpretation of my prompt. It let me see my writing in the eyes of others; it showed me that I was able to describe scenes while still allowing my readers to use their imaginations.

As a fiction writer, it is not my job to be a stagehand and tell the reader every minute detail of the scene I’m writing. Instead, it is my job to guide them through the story and allow them to envision parts of the story as they see fit. This is especially true with dialogue.

So let’s go back to the original excerpt from Parade that I was using as an example:

‘“Soldier?’ Red said, interrupting the beginning of another gushing tirade.

Larb's grin faded a bit around the edges as he glanced up. ‘…Yes?’

‘Just remember: you're walking a very thin line.’

His eyes dropped back down to the controls. ‘Yes, my Tallest… It won't happen again.’”

In this passage, I tried to apply all these rules:

Make it clear who’s speaking.

Use tags sparingly. Sometimes, “said” works just fine.

Use adverbs sparingly and don’t fall over yourself trying to describe everything.

The dialogue flows smoothly, it is clear who is speaking, and the reader can decide how it’s being spoken. Is Red angry? Impatient? Completely void of emotion in his words? Is Larb scared out of his wits? Trying to keep up a facade of bravery? Who knows! I sure don’t! I’m just the writer! It’s up to YOU to decide.

So... yeah! I know my advice wasn’t particularly groundbreaking, but I hope it was an interesting read, nonetheless.

#writing advice #rissy's asks #rissy rambles #ladyanaconda #keep in mind #i am not a professional writer #i have my degree in communication not english #i just write a lot and have the help of some professionals in my life #i also still have a lot to learn #so i am in no way some sort of sacred fountain of wisdom #sorry if i have some grammar errors too #i know that must make me look like a hypocrite #i'll try to go through later and fix as many as i can catch #this was kind of a 'stream of consciousness' post

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beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

Photo

i wondered if i could come home (yours is the first face that i saw) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe works in New York. Beca works in LA. The quarantine brings them together virtually. God Bless technology.

Word count: 4,335

Read below or on AO3.

Beca had initially been ridiculously excited about the prospect of staying home. She hated dressing up just to go and sit, spaced out at her laptop.

Now she has free rein to just wear whatever the fuck she wants while spaced out from the comfort of her own home.

A quick glance around however indicates that there isn’t much to call home anyway. When Beca had moved to Los Angeles with nothing more than her laptop, twenty USBs packed with remixes and original music, and a luggage full of clothes, she had pretty much expected this.

This being the whole struggling artist thing. Her father had advised against it, her step-mother had advised against it (not like Beca really was planning on listening), and her mother was—

Well.

Beca would rather not think about it. Of course, she wouldn’t.

But she did—it was all she could think about for those first few weeks in Los Angeles. Those first few months.

When she had first made the move, she had fantasized about her mother kissing in her on her head (a phantom memory if anything) and telling her how proud she was of her for chasing her dreams.

She had imagined her mother’s arm around her shoulder as they made that final descent into LAX.

She had imagined her mother’s proud smile when she had signed the papers for her first real job in the music industry—that breath of fresh air that really cemented in her memory that she had made it. She was there in the city of her dreams. She had moved across the country from Atlanta to Los Angeles.

But eventually, with time, after one let-down after another, Beca’s USB pile grew smaller and thinner and her job became less of a temporary thing and more of a full-time thing to keep her afloat.

Are you still proud of me? She wants to ask.

She can’t quite envision the look on her mother’s face—hell she can’t quite envision the look on her father’s face or even Sheila’s face—if she were to look around her small (but cozy) apartment.

Is this what you wanted for me? Beca wants to ask.

Change just doesn’t seem to come quick enough in a city with plenty of time to spare and too many hungry dreams to fulfil.

* * * * *

And then there’s this.

The whole quarantine mess.

It’s a form of change, Beca supposes. Maybe not quite the one she needs at that moment.

*New Notification from Outlook You have a new message

From: Aubrey Posen

CC: Chloe Beale

To: Beca Mitchell

Subject: HR and A&R Documents and Procedure — Microsoft Teams Meeting Request

Beca groans.

* * * * *

Being a producer isn’t bad. It lets Beca flex her creativity from time to time (very, very minimally) and she gets to say she’s worked on interesting musical projects.

Grumbling to herself, Beca settles down in her chair after wrestling with her hair and brush. She figures she looks moderately presentable. She even swapped out her sleep shirt for a non-sleep shirt for the purposes of this video conference.

She has no idea who Chloe Beale and Aubrey Posen are anyway, but she’s already moderately annoyed that they both insist on video conferencing when this quarantine has made evident that literally everything can be done via email.

Beca takes a calming breath. The raise is a good thing. It came at a good time. It’s a good thing to get a raise at a job she hates especially when the alternative would have been to be let go. If she has to deal with HR for the sake of this, she will.

Not like she can do anything else.

The call comes in almost as soon as Beca wheels her chair closer to her desk. She fumbles, picking up her headphones and hitting Accept.

“Hi,” Beca says, waving awkwardly at her screen. “Uh. Wow. Hi.”

Almost immediately, Beca wants to clamp a hand over her mouth. She settles on dropping her hand into her lap and clutching the fabric of her shirt to distract herself from the embarrassment rising in her.

The young woman splashed across her screen is incredibly pretty. Almost intimidatingly so. Striking red hair, loosely draped over her shoulders in comfortable waves. Soft-looking lips pulled into a gentle smile.

And her eyes—Christ, Beca thinks—her eyes are what draw Beca in the most. Startling blue. The clearest of blues that Beca has ever seen.

“Wow?” The woman smiles at Beca. “That’s quite the greeting.”

“Sorry,” Beca mumbles hastily. She ducks her head. “Surprised to still talk to people during all this, I guess,” she lies quickly. She figures saying “you’re hot” wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing to say despite how true it might be.

The red-head quirks an eyebrow at her. “I’m Chloe Beale, nice to meet you Beca Mitchell.”

Beca can’t fight the smile this time. Chloe’s voice is nice. It’s beautiful and melodic. “Hi Chloe. Nice to meet you,” Beca parrots back. “Weren’t there supposed to be like...two of you in this meeting?”

“Oh, yes!” Chloe chirps enthusiastically. “Aubrey will be joining us in just a second—oh there she is,” she says just as Aubrey’s profile image pops into Beca’s screen, cutting the size of Chloe’s face on her screen in half.

“Good morning, Beca.”

“Good morning, Aubre–”

“It’s technically afternoon for us, but anyway.”

Beca clamps her mouth shut, choosing to push her lips into a forced, polite smile. She catches a glimpse of Chloe coughing behind her hand, clearly stifling a laugh of her own.

“Did you want to run through some of the documents and responsibilities, Chloe?”

Chloe clears her throat, professional mask back in place. “Yes, sure. Well, Beca, as a senior producer—”

* * * * *

With half-open eyes, Beca drags herself from her bed the short distance to her desk. Foregoing her chair for the moment because she has no intent on actually sitting down yet, Beca opens her laptop and logs in to Outlook and Teams before opening Logic Pro X and GarageBand.

She has been working on some tracks for an up and coming artist as well as overseeing the production on an EP for a new artist signed to a label, so she’s kind of expecting a shitload of emails to start her day off. That can wait for the moment.

When she gets back to her computer, coffee mug in hand, Beca notices a notification marker on her applications.

*New Notification from Teams

Beca frowns. She’s not the usual recipient of messages ever. But when she sees who exactly messaged her, she can’t fight the grin. She puts her coffee down with some reluctance and opens the message fully.

Chloe Beale Hey sleepyhead, you’re finally up Thanks for sending the paperwork back yesterday

Beca Mitchell fyi i am three hours behind you timezones or something as aubrey would say

Chloe Beale Who doesn’t start their day at 6am?

Beca isn’t quite sure what to make of Chloe entirely. She’ll blame the echoing loneliness around her—loneliness being all she feels these days—but she would be lying if she weren’t totally and shallowly attracted to Chloe Beale.

But she barely knows her. In fact, Beca would go as far as to say she doesn’t know Chloe at all. Chloe could just be another faceless entity in the long string of entities in Beca’s life. Just another missed connection.

Beca sips her coffee, blinking blearily at her screen.

Beca Mitchell do you start your day at 6??

Chloe Beale It’s good for you!

Beca Mitchell coffee’s good for you

Chloe Beale i’m more of a tea drinker myself good for the voice

Beca Mitchell singer?

Chloe Beale used to be

Beca arches an eyebrow. She had known, from the sound of Chloe’s voice alone, that she was something special

(And sure, Aubrey had a nice voice too, but it had been used primarily to grate on Beca’s nerves so she’s choosing to look past it.)

Beca Mitchell whats the story there?

Chloe Beale Hmm maybe one day :)

Beca Mitchell all i have are days to spare for you

Beca hits send before she can regret it and immediately winces at how unexpectedly flirtatious it sounds. She moves to type a quick cover-up, but Chloe beats her in sending a message.

Chloe Beale i like the sound of that

Beca’s fingers hover over her keyboard. She can’t bring herself to admit the same thing, even though it’s true.

She does like the sound of that. Almost as much as she had liked the sound of Chloe’s voice.

* * * * *

It ends up being so easy to fall into a routine when Beca realizes that she has something to look forward to with each subsequent day.

A routine that perhaps even involves waking up earlier so she can spend more time sending Chloe dumb GIFs and debate the best bagel spreads.

It feels nice.

It feels like something Beca could get used to.

Even if Chloe is incessantly cheerful and ridiculously chipper at any given point of the day. Beca kind of likes it.

It reminds her of sunshine and a much-needed breath of fresh air.

There is the added bonus (or nightmare) of Chloe’s incessant need to abuse the video conference tool.

“Beca, make sure you have those documents signed. A&R needs them as soon as possible.”

“You couldn’t have messaged this to me? Or emailed?”

Chloe grins, blindingly so. Beca doesn’t even try to look away.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Beca tugs at the collar of her shirt (another new shirt) unconsciously before she realizes what she’s doing and drops her hand away. “And you’d know all about fun, would you?”

“Maybe.”

Beca shakes her head, mostly to hide the smile that rises on her face.

“Nice shirt by the way.”

* * * * *

Okay, fine.

Even that isn’t something that Beca finds herself annoyed with.

* * * * *

Beca bites her lip, hitting SEND before she can stop herself. The email flies away from her, an email detailing a request to video conference with Chloe for some dumb, made-up reason.

Well, no, there’s an actual reason and it’s that Beca wants to hear Chloe’s voice. That’s a good enough reason.

*You have a new Outlook Notification. Chloe Beale has Accepted Your Invitation.

Beca smiles.

* * * * *

Chloe Beale I’ve always wanted to visit Los Angeles

Beca Mitchell Come over here then!

Chloe Beale Maybe once this is all over

Beca Mitchell Oh right

Beca Mitchell Well if you ever need a place to stay…

Beca starts to sweat. She thinks about deleting her message, but what good would that do? Chloe has already seen it.

“Fuck,” she mutters aloud and promptly chooses to chicken out.

Beca Mitchell I know a lot of people who’d love to have you and i’ll bring you to all the best spots around town You know, me being an expert and all hahaha

“Fuck why did you say that?” Beca asks herself, resisting the urge to slam her laptop closed. She winces when she notices her unfinished work in the background.

She’s kind of more focused on the little indicator showing that Chloe has seen her message and the subsequent lack of response.

She is unfortunately sorely disappointed by Chloe’s response, despite her own attempts at haphazardly diffusing the situation.

Chloe Beale Sounds awesome!

Right, Beca mulls to herself. There hadn’t been a situation to begin with.

She lets the disappointment carry her through the rest of the day. The disappointing feeling—It is familiar but somehow more striking.

* * * * *

The thing about Chloe is that she makes everything easy. She never makes Beca feel bad about asking too many questions and she never makes Beca feel totally lame for taking up her time. She assures Beca that it’s fine—that she doesn’t mind at all. It makes Beca feel like a rockstar for about two seconds before she remembers that it’s Chloe’s literal job to be kind and nice to people she works with.

Right.

They’re technically coworkers. Just that. Nothing more.

And then there’s the whole...is Chloe even attracted to women conundrum. It is nice to think that Chloe is attracted to women—that Chloe would be attracted to her of all people.

It’s just such a big what if question.

(And of course the “we live 3000 miles away” issue. That issue.)

There is a strange underpinning of something else—something that Beca can’t quite place. It sends a swooping sensation through her stomach when she thinks about it. The past month or so of communicating with Chloe was rife with tense, interesting moments that make Beca second-guess herself every time.

Barring the times when she word vomits all over herself, Beca is surprised that she’s maintained a connection with Chloe for this long.

* * * * *

The dreams start near the end of the first month of knowing each other.

The awkward part about waking up from a dream about somebody she’s never even met in person is that Beca has no idea how to conduct herself. She barely knows how to do it in-person—conduct herself—let alone doing it online.

She tries to settle on something to occupy her mind while she works through some musical/creative block.

Her fingers type in chloe beale into Google before she can help herself.

“Fuck it,” Beca whispers, hitting enter.

She is surprised by the breadth of hits that Google returns to her. Interesting ones, nonetheless. She learns in short order that Chloe does voice acting on the side. Nothing overtly taxing, but it pleases Beca that Chloe has somewhat of a creative streak. She notes a few well-known animated series and some other gigs here and there.

An old YouTube video catches her attention.

Acapella Finals 2011

Beca can’t stop the grin that stretches across her face when she recognizes Chloe, red hair and all, front and center and singing.

She knew Chloe was a singer at heart.

She pulls up her chat before she can stop herself.

Beca Mitchell *pasted link* I see

Chloe Beale Oh my god!

Beca Mitchell Google knows all

Chloe Beale You were Googling me?

Beca’s smile drops. “Shit, uh—”

Chloe Beale Kidding! i googled you too. Didn’t think you were a taylor swift girl. All those remixes… <3

Beca blushes before she can stop herself. That had been a brief foray of fame—literally five minutes—when Taylor Swift herself had linked to one of Beca’s remixes. Beca hadn’t been savvy enough to capitalize on that in any way, however.

Beca Mitchell oh those... I wish i had more original things to say

Chloe Beale Your music is beautiful, just like you are I mean that in a totally non-weird way of course

Beca isn’t quite sure they’re saying the same things, but maybe they are. Chloe’s unwavering faith in her feels wholly misplaced more often than not.

But it’s nice.

This is nice.

Beca lets a smile consume her.

Beca Mitchell Flattery will get you everywhere

Chloe Beale That’s the hope

Beca Mitchell Back to acapella… i was wondering if i could pick your mind for an idea i had for this track i’m working on

* * * * *

The transition to Facetime and phone calls as opposed to Teams video conferencing was a fairly recent one. Beca discovered that Chloe is an equally eager texter. Emojis and all.

“Your voice somehow sounds better over FaceTime audio,” Chloe teases.

“I was going to say the same,” Beca replies before she can stop herself. Her heart flutters. “I wasn’t the one in acapella in college, after all.”

“Oh you would have fit right in. I would have whipped you into shape, I’m pretty sure. Or maybe you would have helped us win instead. Being as talented as you are and all.”

“I wish I could have known you then,” Beca says bravely.

“You would have changed my life,” Chloe admits. She says it with a smile, but there is no hint of a joke in Chloe’s tone. “I don’t sing anymore,” she finally says. “Not after that last acapella competition. The one you sent me.”

“Oh, why not? Your voice is…” Beca trails off, struggling to find words. For all the time she spends with music—literally layering vocals and instrumentals—she cannot understand how she cannot find appropriate words to describe how Chloe’s voice makes her feel. “I’m sorry...I’m usually better at this. Why don’t you sing anymore?”

“I had to have surgery for my nodes in my senior year of university. I’ve been too afraid to sing again.”

That breaks Beca’s heart more than anything. “But your voice is okay now,” she says lamely.

“I haven’t really had an opportunity to sing again. Working for B&R Records is the closest I can get to the music industry. Not that I ever thought I’d sing professionally or anything.” Chloe sighs, then her voice softens even more. “I admire you so much for pursuing your dreams, Beca. You’re so much better than you know. I’ve listened to your stuff.”

Beca swallows.

Her heart isn’t fluttering.

It is racing, almost uncontrollably.

* * * * *

They talk for hours.

Beca tries not to think about it as she wakes up to her phone pressed against her cheek uncomfortably and the faintest memory of Chloe humming something hauntingly familiar.

“Shit,” she mutters, realizing that her heart has yet to stop thudding with the force of emotions she feels.

* * * * *

*Google search history

online dating

quarantine dating

flights to New York

amazon delivery time

online dating in quarantine

relationships in covid-19

online date ideas

* * * * *

*iMessage Notification

From Chloe Beale install netflix party!

Beca Mitchell Already did! waiting on you...

* * * * *

Chloe ends up being the person Beca calls when she receives yet another change request for the track she had been working on. She isn’t allowed to move on to another track until this artist is absolutely pleased with the track and Beca understands how contracts works and stuff, but holy shit, she’s had it up to her damn forehead with Pimp Lo and his incessant demands to keep his music trashy (Beca’s professional opinion).

“I want to quit,” Beca declares to Chloe. She knows Chloe is done with work for the day even though Beca has about an hour or so left in her “shift” (she has decided time is a construct and she’s signing out for the day due to creative differences).

“Don’t quit,” Chloe says quickly. “And um...don’t tell me that. Professional responsibility and all.”

She says it with a joking tone, but it still stings ever so slightly for Beca. The reminder that she and Chloe are coworkers and nothing more. She’s sure she’s going to hear even less from Chloe as time goes on and when everything kind of goes back to “normal”.

But she kind of doesn’t want to stop talking to Chloe.

“It’s just annoying,” Beca complains.

“Oh honey, I know,” Chloe sympathizes. Beca warms at the term of endearment.

“Beca, your music is good,” Chloe promises earnestly. “I’ve listened to a lot of music over the past few years I’ve been working here...just promise me you won’t give up, okay?”

Unexpected anger wells up in Beca. She identifies frustration, annoyance, and some measure of pain—all of which have to do largely with this entire situation. Somehow, she manages to tamp it all down and focuses on the sincerity of Chloe’s voice.

“I just don’t want to...have my ideas shot down like this anymore,” she finally murmurs, taking a breath to steady herself.

“I know,” Chloe promises. “It won’t always be like that though.”

“I’ve been out here for a year. Verging on two.”

“I know,” Chloe repeats, sincere understanding in her tone. “And it sucks that Hollywood just eats people up and just...I don’t know. Spits them back out like that. But...you’re special. I know you are.”

Beca shudders with her own attempt to stifle a sob. “And that’s your professional HR opinion?” she asks, trying to make it sound more like a joke so Chloe doesn’t take it badly.

Chloe scoffs, then lets out a giggle. Beca wishes more than anything she could see her face. “Yes, that is absolutely my professional HR opinion and I think you should take it. I don’t come cheap.”

It’s less than what Beca hoped for. She had hoped for something a bit more—something closer to the kind of reassurance Chloe had been giving her over the past little while. This feels like two steps backwards.

“I wish I could see you,” Beca blurts.

Chloe doesn’t say anything for a moment. A moment too long. Beca’s face heats embarrassingly quickly. She is so thankful that she is alone in her apartment.

“I’m sorry,” Beca apologizes. “That was weird. And I didn’t mean to make things weird. I’m not weird, I promise. Maybe a little. But not like that.”

Chloe laughs. “Beca, it’s okay. I know what you meant. Or what you mean.” She laughs again, this time sounding more breathless. “It’s just...I guess it’s just late and we should probably...table this for another day.”

Beca’s heart plummets.

“We don’t have to table anything,” Beca says quickly, stung by the rejection. “Forget I said anything.”

“Beca—”

“Goodnight, Chloe.”

* * * * *

*iMessage Notification From Chloe Beale Beca, are you okay?

*iMessage Notification From Chloe Beale Call me when you can

* * * * *

Beca notices she has a request from HR for a video conference. There are no other details, but she knows it’s from Chloe. Her stomach tenses uncomfortably as she stares at the words on her screen. The conference is set up from about five minutes from now so she has about five minutes to get her shit together.

She hadn’t meant to ignore Chloe, she had just been a bit too absorbed into her work (as a way to avoid Chloe).

But she isn’t mad with the music she’s been making recently. She probably has Chloe to thank for that. For being an inspirational source.

She can do this.

She looks around, taking a deep breath as she takes stock of everything that she has in her apartment. Her eyes land on something by her window and she goes to grab it.

She returns to her computer just in time for the call.

“Hi,” Beca says, blinking into her computer screen. “Hi, Chloe, is everything—”

“You know, radio silence is probably the worst way to woo somebody.”

Beca thinks she might still be asleep. “Sorry?”

Chloe seems to be fighting a smile. “You don’t even know how cute you are, do you?”

“I’m not cute,” Beca says automatically.

“You are. In a hot way.”

“In a hot way,” Beca echoes. She grins. “Are you calling me hot?”

“I saw you checking me out that first day. Obvious even through webcam.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t mind. I...never minded. Which is what makes this so hard,” Chloe says, lowering her head a little. She worries her lower lip between her teeth, leaning closer to her camera. “This is so weird and so hard. I didn’t expect to just...fall for somebody while we’re all just trying to figure out how to make things okay again, you know?”

“So…” Beca swallows, wondering if this is the appropriate forum for what she’s sure is about to come out of Chloe’s mouth.

“I like you,” Chloe admits. “I think you’re brave and talented and incredible. And there’s so much we still have to learn about each other, but I have been driving myself crazy thinking about how much I want to kiss you.” Chloe clears her throat and holds up a small pot of pretty, purple flowers. “These are for you. I couldn’t really go to the store to get a fresh bunch. But um. If I could, I would.”

Oh.

“Isn’t this against company policy?” Beca croaks out. She can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “Like can’t they see everything? Even videos?”

Chloe shrugs. “I don’t care. Not really. Look around, Beca. Nobody really cares anymore. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Beca covers her face with her hand. “This is super embarrassing.”

Chloe giggles. “Oh stop. I’m the one literally holding out flowers to my screen.”

“No, it’s just—” Beca holds up the potted plant she had stolen from her windowsill. “Here. I brought this for you too.”

Chloe gasps. “A cactus? You shouldn’t have.”

There is a brief silence before they dissolve into giggles. It makes Beca feel the most complete and whole that she has in while.

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Were we even in a fight?” Beca asks aloud.

“No,” Chloe admits. “I just...thought I scared you off.”

“I think I scared myself off.” Beca crinkles her nose as she frowns. “If that makes sense.”

“That makes a lot of sense. I think it’s the most sensible thing you’ve said so far.”

* * * * *

Eventually, the time comes where Beca can go outside again.

Beca knows what it means to have sunshine on her face. There is no shortage of it in Los Angeles.

There is no shortage of palm trees, of warm wind, of endless beach views.

There is no shortage of too many dreams and too little opportunities for those dreams to come true.

But this—the excited yelp Chloe lets out when she pushes off the pillar she had been leaning against and the solid weight of Chloe’s body nestled firmly against her own as her arms loop easily around Beca’s neck—this is so much better than anything Beca could have dreamed for herself.

She can feel her mother’s smile, warm like the gentlest of sunrises against the back of her neck. She can feel the weight of a new pile of USBs in her bag and a fresh outlook on life.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Chloe whispers, her voice real and solid and there.

“Me too,” is all Beca can say.

She kisses Chloe like it’s the first day of the rest of her life.

fin.

#bechloe #weeklybechloe #anna kendrick #brittany snow #pitch perfect #fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #gif #my fanfic #mine #text #queue

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raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

Text

cliché

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

an au where everyone is college friends and logan is getting married and the best friend of his ellie always hated is going to be logan’s best man. as the maid of honor, she’s probably expected to be at least a little nice to him.

for @rodappreciationweek, of course! day 7/wild card

(spoiler alert: i bent the rules of weddings for plot reasons so go easy)

tags: @choicesarehard, @lovehugsandcandy, @pixeljazzy, @troublemakerinspace, @dancingboba, @yaushie, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @tempesrature, @zigtheeortega, @beccadavenport, @theeccentricbibliophile

~15.5k words | M (18+)

she squealed, clapping her hands excitedly in view of the laptop’s webcam. “i’m so happy for you guys! seriously, this is amazing.”

from across the country, ingrid beamed, still holding her left hand aloft so ellie could see her ring. “did you know?”

ellie shook her head. “i knew he’d bought a ring but i didn’t know he was proposing now.” her attention turned to logan, “i thought you were waiting until your anniversary?”

he shrugged, looking just as excited as ingrid did. “i couldn’t wait anymore, it was driving me crazy.”

ingrid leaned her head on logan’s shoulder. “ellie, say you’ll be my maid of honor.”

“oh my god, of course i will!” ellie gushed, blinking away a sudden wave of emotion. “please, you guys know i’d do anything for you.”

the two of them exchanged a glance. “glad to hear you say that,” logan said slowly, “because i already asked colt to be my best man.”

the smile dropped off her face. “are you kidding me?”

“come on, it won’t be that bad,” ingrid rushed to assure her, “you’ll hardly have to deal with him. but -- while we’re breaking bad news to you...” she pursed her lips, and then shrugged. “we already set a date, too.”

“it’s in three months,” logan interjected helpfully.

ellie felt her eyes bug out. “three months?”

“el, we got our dream venue,” ingrid sighed wistfully, “you’re going to die when you see it. it was the only saturday they had available for, like, the next five years. it’s in santa monica overlooking the water and it’s just -- it’s perfect.”

“that’s really soon,” she said dumbly, “we have a lot to do.”

“totally.” ellie watched as ingrid shifted from blushing bride in love to ruthless, no-nonsense delegator. “we’re going to cram as much of it in as we can when you’re home for spring break. i already made us appointments to go look at dresses and tuxes and then -- we’ll figure everything else out when you’re here.”

the thought of spending her spring break shopping with colt kaneko was already making a headache start to throb behind her eyes. but ingrid and logan were her best friends. and they deserved the wedding of their dreams.

she pasted the biggest, most extreme smile she could muster on her face. “sounds great, you guys.”

ellie relished the long flight home from new york to los angeles, well aware that it was probably going to be the last moment she had to relax until the end of the summer.

there had to be some irony in the fact that she was midway through pursuing her ph.d and more stressed out about her college friends’ wedding than anything else.

but her coursework was going well. everything in her life was falling into place perfectly, exactly how she’d always envisioned it.

this was the wrench in the plan. how she was supposed to make time to come back home for ingrid and logan’s wedding when she’d already committed to spending her summer in miami doing field work was a problem she didn’t need.

so she spent the flight napping, enjoying the five hours in the air as the only chance she’d get to kick back during her spring break. if she knew ingrid at all, she was going to be barking orders from the moment ellie’s feet touched orange county soil until the second they left.

still, there were at least a few hours she could spend delaying the inevitable.

riya picked her up at the airport and ellie threw herself into her arms eagerly for a giant hug. “oh my god, i am so glad to see you. thank you for picking me up -- i pretty much have bridal boot camp all week.”

“ingrid’s got it all planned out, huh?” riya asked, helping her get her suitcase in the car with a grin. “look, it probably won’t be that bad. you’re you -- when darius and i got married you were the reason we didn’t even need a wedding planner!”

“that was different,” ellie explained, as riya started driving them back to the city, “you and darius are normal. maid of honor doesn’t mean the same thing to ingrid that it meant to you, trust me.”

“well, i believe in you,” her oldest friend declared, “and even if it’s awful, just come over afterwards and we can drown ourselves in wine.”

“done and done,” she sighed. “i’m sorry i probably won’t be around much this week otherwise. i know it’s been forever since we caught up.”

“please, i can’t even imagine how busy you are,” riya said, waving her apology off, “you’re getting close to the home stretch, eh?”

ellie shrugged. “i still have two more years of study, but -- yeah, pretty much. it’s crazy.”

“so crazy,” riya agreed, “but you will absolutely see me and dare in miami as soon as you get set up there.”

the thought of it, with everything she knew was ahead of her this week, sounded like nothing short of paradise. “can’t wait,” she said genuinely, sighing as the car slowed to a stop in front of the house she’d grown up in. “wanna come in and say hi to my dad?”

“uh uh,” riya chided, “i’m done being the buffer between you two. sooner or later, you’re going to have to have that long overdue heart-to-heart.”

“okay, dr. phil,” ellie groaned, “thanks a lot.” her phone lit up with a text from ingrid as soon as she closed the car door.

be at your house in 5 it said, pulling a sigh of relief from deep within her.

saved by the bell.

ellie only had a moment to drop her bags and shout a quick hello to her dad before she heard a car horn honk and rushed back outside, leaning over the car’s center console to give ingrid a big hug hello.

“boy, am i ever glad to see you,” her friend said. “everything is already such a disaster. the venue is giving me such an attitude about moving our ceremony outside and my sister is an out of control diva who is, like, demanding to be allowed to read a poem before we say our vows and -- i swear i’ve almost killed logan at least twice.”

“wow. okay, well -- all of that sounds fixable.” though already she knew the next three months were going to be nothing like the ramp up to riya and darius’ wedding. ellie stifled a sigh.

“oh, it will be,” ingrid threatened darkly, “we’re doing everything at once today. dresses -- tuxes -- groomsmen, bridesmaids. i tried being nice about it, but do you know what i realized? some people don’t deserve to be allowed to make their own decisions. so i changed our appointment and i’m going to supervise and everyone who acts normal will be allowed to come help me pick out my dress at our new appointment on wednesday.”

ellie blinked. “whatever you want,” she said finally, her brain still working to process what the hell she was talking about, “it’s your day.”

“yes it is,” ingrid agreed viciously, “i’m glad you’re on board. come on.”

ellie followed behind her into the boutique they’d arrived at, immediately catching sight of eight or so of their closest friends from college, plus logan’s cousin and ingrid’s sister, the latter who was staring at a long, pink dress with her arms crossed petulantly over her chest. “i’m not trying that on,” she said, as ellie stepped closer, “it’s going to accentuate my shoulders.”

“look, brat,” ingrid started, lowering her voice to the dangerous timbre ellie had come to associate with group project members who weren’t pulling their own weight, “get in that dressing room and put this on right now or so help me god --”

“ellie!”

she turned around and saw logan, the distressed look on her face instantly melting into one of relief. “oh my god, hi,” she laughed, rushing over for a hug, “it’s so good to see you!”

“hey, back at you,” he grinned, “seriously, i know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your spring break, but -- thank god you’re here. ingrid needs all the help she can get.”

ellie pulled out of his arms and saw that he was wearing an elegant black tuxedo, the lines of which settled nicely on his shoulders and seemed to suit him perfectly. “okay, but -- this is a great tux.” she called out to ingrid over her shoulder. “come look at this one.”

ingrid walked over and gave logan a cursory glance. “i hate it. get changed.”

logan shot her an amused glance, but dipped back into the dressing room without a word. bless him, ellie thought, before drawing in a deep breath and asking, “okay, where do you want me?”

as if on cue, a harried shop attendant immediately dropped a pile of gowns into ellie’s arms. “follow me.”

the first dress she tried on was bright pink and heavily ruffled -- so ugly she honestly didn’t even want to show everyone.

but she hitched up the skirt and stepped out of the dressing room obligingly, standing in front of the mirrors and the rest of the bridal party for ingrid’s judgment.

you have the ideal body type, ingrid had explained nonsensically to her as they herded her off with the gowns, so you’ll try on all of them and then once we find one we like everyone else will try it on, too.

ugh. “it’s not... that bad,” ellie said delicately, once she was situated on the platform in front of the group.

“not if you’re little bo peep.”

god. she’d know that smug, arrogant, self-centered, self-obsessed, narcissistic egomaniac voice anywhere.

“hi, colt,” ellie said pointedly, without turning her head, “nice to see you, too.”

he stepped closer, directly into her field of vision. there was no avoiding looking at him, then.

colt was just as handsome as he’d been the last time she’d seen him, over a year ago at logan’s twenty-fifth birthday party, but this time, he was in a navy blue tux that had no business looking as good as it did.

he smirked at her. “as if anyone could miss you in that thing.”

ellie sighed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. formalwear could only go so far when it came to making him appear tolerable, it seemed. “do you always have to be the most insufferable person in every room you’re in?”

“not always, no. but i like to win.”

“it’s disgusting,” ingrid declared abruptly, before ellie could snap back at him, “please take it off. can you try on the purple one next?”

she ducked back into the dressing room, thunking her head softly against the wall once the door swung shut behind her. why me, ellie thought miserably, i’m a good person. this isn’t fair.

it took two and a half hours, but eventually, she’d tried on what felt like every single dress at the store. finally, once she’d wiggled into a gown that was a soft, sky blue, figure-hugging with thin straps and delicate lace accents over tasteful cut-outs, ingrid gasped, “that’s it! that’s the one.”

every bridesmaid, including ellie, sagged with relief. “great,” she smiled, “i’ll just get out of the way so everyone else can try theirs on, too.”

just before she stepped back inside the dressing room to get changed, she caught sight of colt, who was still standing around on their side of the shop for some reason. he was staring at her, face carefully blank -- though there was something in his eyes she couldn’t quite place.

as soon as he noticed she’d caught him looking, he stormed off.

once ellie was back in her street clothes, ingrid said, “i’ll finish up over here. can you please go make sure the guys are on the right track?”

ellie winced as she approached the men’s side of the store. half of logan’s groomsmen were dressed in navy, the other half in black -- logan had a white jacket on and one of their friends from college, brent, was inexplicably wearing pants that were powder blue.

“oh my god, ingrid’s going to kill you,” she said to logan. “i can see why she sent me over here to babysit.”

“hey, i’ve got it sort of under control,” logan said defensively, “she said she wanted slate grey. look at this.”

ellie cringed again as he held a jacket on a hanger aloft in front of her eyes. “that’s charcoal grey.”

the determined look on logan’s face crumpled immediately. “fuck. can you help me?”

she was already nodding before he finished his question. “just -- get in there and get that off before anyone sees. i’ll pull tuxes for everyone.”

it was only a few minutes before she was passing out new outfits, herding each of logan’s groomsmen into their respective dressing rooms one by one.

only one of them gave her any trouble about it. as soon as she passed him his tux, colt scowled, asking, “what is this?”

“a tuxedo,” she answered tersely, “presumably you’ve seen one before? like, an hour ago? those are all called tuxedos. maybe you never learned the word?”

he merely rolled his eyes at her. “why are you giving it to me?”

“because i want you to put it on. now. like, immediately.”

still, he just stood there. “i already tried on forty of them.”

“then one more shouldn’t make much of a difference.” she shoved his shoulder expectantly. “go.”

ingrid wandered over just as they all started to emerge. as they stood in a line outside the dressing room, she laid a hand to her heart and gasped. “oh my god, they’re perfect. baby, you did such a good job!”

“actually --” logan started, though he stopped abruptly as soon as he caught sight of the way ellie was frantically shaking her head from behind ingrid’s back, “uh, thanks. i want everything to be perfect for you.”

“oh my god, you guys can do something right,” ingrid sniffed, “i’m so happy. okay -- fuck it, let’s go get drinks. i’ll get the first round.”

a few of their friends cornered her as soon as she got her first drink. it was the same every time she came home; everyone wanted to know how new york was, how school was going, what the dating pool was like on the east coast and if she’d met anyone. they asked the same questions every time ellie was able to make it out so they could catch up, and she gave the same answers.

it was exhausting. she gulped down her glass of wine as quickly as humanly possible, just so she could have an excuse to escape back to the bar.

the bartender slid her a shot when he passed her refilled wine glass back to her. his smile was sympathetic. “you look like you need this.”

ellie grimaced at him, but immediately lifted the shot to her lips and knocked it back. “that obvious?”

“oh, yeah.” he placed his palms on the bar top and leaned in close, grinning brightly at her. “let me guess. family reunion?”

“worse,” she sighed, “two of my best friends from college are getting married. in three months.”

he whistled, slowly shaking his head. “brutal. i don’t think we have enough alcohol in the bar to help you with that.”

“tell me about it,” ellie laughed, taking a sip from her wine glass to chase away the burn of the shot she’d done, “you don’t even know the half of it.”

“well...” he smiled charmingly at her again. “my shift is over in twenty minutes. i’ll gladly listen to you complain, if you want.”

she blinked. “oh, i --”

“hey, don’t look now, but that guy over there has the angriest eyebrows i’ve ever seen.” the bartender leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “boyfriend?”

“what?” ellie turned around and followed the line of his gaze.

sure enough, colt was glaring at them from the booth with the rest of their friends, his eyebrows drawn together thunderously.

“oh my god, no,” she said, turning back around as quickly as possible, “never. we don’t even like each other.”

“right. well -- listen. if you do wanna pick this up some other time, here’s my number, okay? no pressure.”

she watched, dumbfounded, as he wrote it down on a cocktail napkin, printing his name evenly below it. ben.

all the girls cheered for her when she got back to the table.

“is that a phone number?” julia demanded, her grin wide and wickedly sharp. she reached over and plucked the napkin out of her hand. “jesus, ellie. you’ve been back in the city for, what, an afternoon?”

“give it,” she said, stepping forward as the rest of the girls passed it around the table, out of her reach, “oh my god, he was just being nice.”

“no, please,” gemma laughed, holding the napkin up over her head, “tell us again how you’re too busy to date.”

“i am too busy to date.” she bounced up on her toes and snatched the cocktail napkin out of her friend’s hand, folding it up and tucking it into the pocket of her jeans. “and i live across the country, remember?”

“hey, that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun while you’re home this week, right?” brent asked, making her aware, all at once, that the guys were officially clued into their conversation, too. “speaking of, ryan moore keeps asking me about you.”

beyond brent’s shoulder, colt was still staring at her. he looked tense, his grip firm on the glass in his hand. his jaw was clenched tight.

“can we talk about something else?” ellie asked finally, lifting her wine glass to her flushed cheek. “my love life can’t be that interesting to you guys.”

logan reached out and ruffled her hair. “hey, you’re our last single friend. you can’t blame us for being invested.”

“colt’s single,” she reminded him, before she could bite her tongue. ellie risked another glance his way and found him scowling at her.

“colt doesn’t count,” ingrid interjected, “he doesn’t have any social skills. you are a catch. you just need to put yourself out there.”

“and i promise, once i have my ph.d, you can set me up with anyone you want.” a discussion they’d had at least a thousand times before. ingrid looked as pleased about it as she’d ever been, which was to say not very much at all. before she could respond, ellie continued, “hey, will someone please play pool with me? i haven’t shot in forever.”

to her surprise, colt offered, “i will.” ellie slowly turned towards him and found him smirking at her again. “who knows what’d happen to your virtue if you went over there alone?”

fucker. he’d probably volunteered to go with her on purpose -- now there was no way for her to get out of it. and if she stayed at the table for one minute longer she was going to scream.

her eyes narrowed at him. “thanks.”

colt set up the table like she wasn’t glaring at him bitterly, humming to himself while he racked the balls and then passed her a cue.

“you’re awful,” she said, as she snatched it out of his hands.

he just grinned at her. “thank you. break?”

ellie leaned over the table to line up her shot, knocking the cue into the balls. two of the solids slid into the corner pockets. her hip leaned against the table as she watched him survey the setup critically, and she took advantage of the fact that his eyes were elsewhere to study him in turn, making note of what was different about him since the last time they’d seen each other.

he’d recently gotten a haircut, but was otherwise unchanged -- he wore the same leather jacket, had the same smug smile, was still so insufferably arrogant she found talking to him pretty much impossible.

“so, what’s your deal?” he asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts and knocking the striped number eleven ball smoothly into one of the side pockets, “you a rocket scientist or whatever yet?”

ellie rolled her eyes, trying not to flush when he lifted his head and looked directly at her. despite his many, many flaws, she’d always found him unnervingly hot. “my degree is in chemistry. so -- no. i still have two more years in the program.”

“yeah, but what are you going to do with it? once you’re a doctor.” even the way he said the word sounding mocking.

she ignored him in favor of focusing on the table, and knocked one of her balls in. once it was his turn to shoot, she answered, “if you need to know, my specialization is in environmental science. one day i’ll hopefully work alongside some of the best in the world to ensure environmental hazards are at an all time low.”

“so whaddya moving to miami for?” he asked, effortlessly sinking two balls into the pocket at once, “their environment is already pretty sweet.”

“the department is sending me to collect data from the water and air outside of the city,” she answered, her eyes on the table as she tried to locate her next best shot, “it’s for my dissertation. it’s only for the summer.”

“shame,” colt murmured, laughing under his breath when her next shot went wide, missing her target completely, “i’ll be stuck dealing with this mess on my own.”

“somehow i doubt that,” ellie said, “it’s only a timezone change. there’s still phones and video calls and plenty of ways for all of you to bother me.”

“only if you pick up.” smoothly, he sunk the last three striped balls, one after another. she scowled at him. “the way the rest of them talk about how hard you are to pin down you’d think you were the president or something.”

“i have a demanding course load,” she huffed out defensively, “so we should get started on planning their bachelor and bachelorette party before my flight back on sunday. that should be the only thing that’s still up in the air after all our appointments this week.”

“don’t even get me started on the concept of a joint bachelor party,” colt sighed, leaning over in front of the eight ball, “it’s going to be the lamest trip of all time. side pocket.”

“i don’t know,” ellie murmured, resting on her cue as the eight ball sailed effortlessly into the side pocket as indicated, “i think it’ll be fun.”

he straightened up and smirked at her, spreading his hands out wide as if to say look at me. what an asshole. “you would.” colt nodded at the table. his smirk lengthened. “looks like you still suck.”

ellie shoved her pool cue back into his open hand. “one thing you’ll never know,” she promised, spinning on her heel and striding back to the table as quickly as possible.

“thanks for all your help today,” ingrid said sweetly on the drive home. “i know it wasn’t easy -- dealing with my idiot sister and all of those guys.”

“colt was as terrible as ever,” she mused, officially thinking too much about it. “i don’t know how he never gets tired of himself. he is such a prick.”

“totally,” ingrid agreed, even though ellie knew she’d softened to him, lately -- though she wasn’t sure she’d ever understand why or how. “but he just picks on you because he likes you.”

ellie lifted her head from where it’d been leaning against the passenger side window and turned towards ingrid with a look of confusion contorting her expression. “what? no.”

“yes,” she insisted, “he’s wanted to bang you since freshman year.”

“okay -- you’re too drunk to be driving,” ellie laughed, though even she could hear the undercurrent of nerves in the tone of her voice, “he’s an asshole to everyone. it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“well, he sure doesn’t talk to me like he talks to you.”

ellie waved her hand dismissively. “because you and logan have been dating for, like, a hundred years. i’m positive he’s just as big a dick to gemma and julia and christie.”

“okay,” ingrid mouthed, arching her eyebrows at the road.

she furrowed her brow. “he is.”

“forget i said anything,” ingrid said breezily as the car slowed to a stop in front of her dad’s house. “i’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine, okay? seriously, thanks again for all your help.”

“anytime.”

dread filled her stomach as ellie dragged her feet up the path to the house. all the lights were on inside, which meant her dad was still awake. “hey pumpkin,” he greeted her, as soon as she toed off her shoes and dropped her bag, “long day?”

“you have no idea.” ellie walked straight to the sofa and flung herself down onto it face-first, groaning into the cushions. for a moment, it felt like she was back in high school, without a care in the world other than coursework and group projects and prom. she drew in a deep breath. “planning this wedding is going to be a headache.”

“you’ll pull through,” her dad assured her, “you always do.”

ellie pressed her forehead to the fabric of the couch and scowled, the freedom of her hair covering her face allowing her to express how she really felt. that was what everyone always said: she’d be fine. she’d figure it out. she’d make it happen.

part of her was so tired of always bending over backwards, always finding a way to make things work -- always being perfect.

some first day back it was shaping up to be.

“i guess,” she mumbled, letting herself sulk for one more long moment before finally lifting her head and sitting up straight. “are you working tonight?”

“yep -- on my way out now. glad i caught you, though. i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever.”

she winced, turning away from the disappointment in his eyes. “ingrid has a pretty full schedule for us this week, but maybe we can have dinner tomorrow.”

“sure thing,” her dad said brightly, pausing by the couch on his way out the door to gently grasp her shoulder. “i’ll see you in the morning, then. hang in there, kid.”

ellie slumped back into the couch, watching him go blankly. half of her was so exhausted she couldn’t imagine doing anything other than collapsing into bed for as long as humanly possible, but the other half of her still felt anxious and unsettled, the way she always did whenever she had to come home.

being back in los angeles always felt like losing control of her life. there was something about being around her old friends and her dad and other people’s expectations that made her feel not like herself -- like some kind of persona she was putting on so everyone would perceive her a certain way.

so she could look like she had everything figured out, so everyone would keep saying you’ll pull through. you’ll figure it out. you’ll make it happen.

the thought of keeping it all up for an entire week of wedding activity with ingrid and their college friends was daunting. worse still was ingrid and logan’s engagement party on friday night, hanging over her head as the last obstacle between her and her flight home to the solace of her silent new york apartment, where she’d be able to analyze soil samples in peace until her mind was quiet again.

the week passed by in a blur. true to form, ingrid kept her busy for a majority of her waking moments with dress shopping, fittings, a trip to the venue, the florist and the bakery and, finally, last-minute preparations for friday’s engagement party, which left ellie tying ribbons around party favors late into the night on thursday.

“i could kill logan,” she complained to riya in the middle of the one free hour she’d been able to steal away for a mani-pedi, “i swear to god i’ve been playing the part of the fiance since i got back.”

“it’ll all be over soon,” riya hummed sympathetically, “the wedding will be here before you know it.”

as she dressed for the engagement party, she repeated the words to herself over and over again in the mirror. it’ll all be over soon.

she arrived at the venue early. the first person she saw after she stepped out of her rideshare was colt, who was loitering by the entrance to the restaurant, smoking.

“some dress,” he smirked at her as soon as she got close enough to hear him, not even bothering to pretend like he wasn’t looking her up and down, “you trying to get laid tonight?”

“you know, ‘hello’ works just fine, too,” she said, pushing past him without a backwards glance. her face felt hot as she considered the comment, looking down at herself self-consciously. fuck him. i look nice.

fortunately, the party itself was less exhausting than she’d expected it to be. it was actually sort of nice to catch up with people she hadn’t seen since they’d graduated, and though she had to run through the familiar talk track she was getting sick of over and over again -- how’s school? how’s new york? what are your plans for after your thesis? -- the open bar made her hate it all a little less.

eventually things started to wind down, until it was late and only the wedding party was left. ellie teetered in her heels as she pretended to help ingrid clean up, shuffling around as inconspicuously as she could manage, given the drinks she’d had.

“are you drunk?”

she jumped, startled by the question. ellie’s lips pulled down into a frown as she noticed the out-and-out delighted expression on colt’s smug face from where he was suddenly standing next to her.

“no,” she lied, “and shhh. someone will hear you.”

“god forbid.” the shit eating grin on his face stretched further. “you want a ride home?”

ellie blinked. “from you?”

colt wasn’t at all deterred by the high arch of her eyebrows. he shrugged. “if we get out of here now we can probably avoid carrying presents to the car.”

that was all it took to convince her. she followed him out to the parking lot with a laugh, drawing up short when he stopped her in front of his motorcycle. she propped a hand on her hip and asked, “you still ride this thing?”

“it’s part of my image,” he answered, and as he came closer ellie found herself staring at the gentle slope of the smirk on his face. maybe it was the low lighting of the parking lot, but he looked a little softer than he had all week -- almost like when she’d first met him, in college, before he opened his mouth to say something rude and their relationship devolved into exchanged barbs and sidelong glares.

colt cleared his throat, looking down at the helmet in his hands. “here.”

she flushed, pulling it on as quickly as possible in the hopes that it’d cover her face before he noticed.

in all the years she’d known him she’d never actually gotten on the back of this thing. she’d seen him pull up to parties and speed away from them with plenty of girls holding onto his stomach, but she’d never actually thought she’d be one of them herself.

the bottle of wine she’d had was making it seem like no big deal, though, so she pressed up snugly behind him and rested her cheek on his shoulder like they’d done this enough times to form a habit.

and then they were back at her dad’s house, so quickly that ellie was almost sad about it. colt was actually mostly alright when he was quiet -- the speed of the bike hardly facilitated conversation -- and he was warm and solid against her while he drove, comforting her to the point that she was half asleep when they finally stopped.

she slid off the bike with a yawn, clumsily yanking the helmet off and handing it back to him. “thanks,” she murmured, glancing at the house and cringing once she realized all the lights were still on, meaning her dad was waiting up for her again. ellie lingered silently beside him, fidgeting.

colt hesitated. after a moment, he killed the engine. he pulled his own helmet off so she could see his face. “you okay?”

“yeah.” she pursed her lips, then exhaled, blowing a messy lock of hair out of her eyes. “i guess i am a little drunk.”

his lips pulled back into that stupid, familiar smirk. “i know. i saw you guzzling chardonnays back there.”

ellie leaned in over the handlebars. “stalk me much?”

“you wish.”

movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye and ellie sighed as she saw the curtains shift. colt followed her gaze to the house, then turned back towards her with an eyebrow quirked.

“is there a reason you’re still standing here?”

she rolled her eyes at him. “it’s complicated.”

he laughed. it was after midnight, and the sleepy street she’d grown up on was completely silent and dark, save for that sound. “don’t tell me little miss perfect has daddy issues.”

“what, you thought you had the monopoly on them?” she shot back, too drunk to stop herself.

surprise flashed across his expression for a split second before he laughed again. “touché,” he murmured, “i probably deserved that.”

ellie still didn’t move, standing at the front of the bike. they stared at each other, silence hanging in the air between them. it had to be the longest amount of time they’d gone without arguing since their freshman year.

that felt like a lifetime ago, but she still remembered what she’d thought when they first met at orientation.

cute, and then, once she found out that he was in the honors college like her, and smart, and eventually, once he opened his mouth, but a jerk.

“what are you staring at?” he asked finally, and though he was difficult to read on even her best day, when she had one-hundred percent of her faculties intact, she was pretty sure there was no malice in his voice -- just genuine curiosity.

“nothing. you’re being weird.”

he laughed again. it took her a moment to realize why it sounded so different than it usually did; most of the time he was laughing at her. but not tonight. “no i’m not.”

“yes you are.”

“okay -- you’re trashed. do you need me to walk you inside?”

all the lights were still on. yeah, that was just what she needed. the thought of colt and her father coming face-to-face made her own mouth curve into a grin. “no. but thanks for driving me home. that was almost decent of you.”

“well, i’d hate to be fully decent.” even his smile was different when he wasn’t making fun of her.

ellie forced herself to take a step away, though it was difficult -- some strange magnetic pull seemed to want to keep her in his orbit, to see if she could maybe make him laugh softly at her again.

as soon as she stepped back, the bike roared to life, though he didn’t pull out of the street until she’d wobbled all the way up the path to the front door and turned back to wave at him.

huh, she thought to herself as she ducked inside, wine-drunk acid swirling in her stomach with something else unidentifiable along for the ride, weird.

it wasn’t until she was tucked in bed that she privately acknowledged to herself, nice, though, too.

as expected, ingrid filled the weeks after her spring break with questions and complaining and dozens of skype calls.

ellie did her best to balance it all with school, which was ramping up as they got closer to the end of term, and packing for her move to miami, though on any given day she felt torn in at least ten different directions while she struggled to get everything together.

the sound of another incoming facetime call was going to haunt her nightmares. with a groan, ellie fumbled for her phone blindly, not taking her eyes off the instant noodles slowly spinning in her microwave.

“what now?”

“hello to you, too,” said a voice that definitely wasn’t ingrid’s, and ellie turned her head to see colt staring at her expectantly from the screen of her phone, jolting both from the surprise of seeing him and the sound of the microwave going off.

“colt?” she blinked, suddenly aware that she was in her pajamas and tugging self-consciously at the cropped tank top she was wearing. “what do you want?”

“we have to go over some things for the bachelor party,” he sighed, and when he shifted she saw that he was reclining in bed. her face flushed.

“bachelor and bachelorette party,” she corrected.

“whatever. is now a good time?”

ellie cast a glance around her apartment, which looked like a tornado had recently swept through it. her kitchen table was covered in textbooks and pages of notes, though the living room had half-packed boxes covering every available surface. “i guess. one second.”

she set her phone down to retrieve her instant noodles and then leaned it up against her toaster, standing in front of the counter to both stay in her phone’s field of view and shovel noodles into her mouth as quickly as possible.

“seriously?” colt said, “isn’t it ten p.m. where you are?”

“i’ve been busy,” ellie answered defensively, between bites, “some of us have lives.”

he rolled his eyes. “did you book your flight yet?”

she paused, fork halfway to her lips. had she booked her flight yet? “i think so.” ellie pursed her lips, and then remembered, “yes! it gets in at seven. i’ll meet you guys at the hotel.”

“okay. the rest of us are driving down together, god help us all.” he scowled.

“relax. it’s only, like, four hours to vegas, anyway.” she was the one who was going to lose two entire days to travel and timezone changes.

“do you want to sit in a car for four hours with everyone?” he smirked at the look that crossed her face. “i didn’t think so. how are the dinner reservations coming along?”

“good,” she nodded. at least she’d remembered to do that. “we’re all set for friday and saturday night. we can walk to both restaurants from the hotel.”

colt had been adamant about planning everything else, and she’d been all too happy to let him take the reigns. the last thing she needed to worry about was getting them into nightclubs and securing bottle service and busting her ass only for him to ultimately turn his nose up at it and declare the whole thing lame.

“that should be everything, then.” she just barely saw the way he narrowed his eyes at her when she tipped her head back to get the last of the styrofoam cup of noodles down her throat. “except for whatever girly shit you have planned.”

“hey, you’re going to have to be the one to tell logan that your bad attitude is what got all of you excluded from mani-pedis and facials,” she shrugged, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning in toward the screen. “just so you can do what on saturday? smoke cigars and play darts?”

“someone has to draw the line somewhere,” he said, revisiting the argument they’d had at least four or five times since she was home the month before.

“you’re impossible,” she sighed, her mouth stretching with a wide yawn. ellie pulled a face at herself, shaking her head. she had at least another two hours of coursework to do once they hung up.

“you’re the one who looks about ten seconds away from combusting,” he smirked. “you can say no to things, you know.”

“i’m fine,” she insisted, “and i do say ‘no’ to things. when i have to.”

“right. it’s not like we haven’t known each other for eight years or anything.”

ellie rolled her eyes at him, her cheeks still flushed red. like he’d paid attention to anyone other than himself and whatever girl he was fucking when they were in college. “everything’ll calm down after the wedding.”

“whatever you say,” he shrugged, “just don’t miss your flight to vegas, okay? i’m going to need someone to talk to who doesn’t make me want to blow my brains out.”

what? colt hung up just as she opened her mouth to respond, leaving ellie staring at her phone background in confusion.

she took one last glance around her apartment, slowly trailing her eyes over the dishes in the sink, the schoolwork on her kitchen table, the piles of shoes that had to be bubble-wrapped and boxed up in her living room.

then ellie turned on her heel and headed off to bed. for once, it felt pretty fucking good to do the wrong thing.

when her flight got in she sent logan a long, detailed text with all the information he could possibly need -- what time her rideshare was going to get to the hotel and how much time she was going to need to get up to the room and get changed -- and asked where she should meet everyone when she was done.

his response was two short words. casino. craps. typical.

she rushed to get into her dress and get some makeup on and found everyone standing around the same table when she got downstairs. of course, the only available space was just to colt’s left. ellie squeezed in with a grin. “hi!”

“hey, you made it!” eager cheers from around the table greeted her and the tight hugs she was forced into let her know that she had a backlog a few drinks deep to catch up on.

when she turned back around, colt shoved his hand in her face. there was a pair of dice sitting in his palm. “blow,” he said, staring at her expectantly.

“excuse me?”

“blow,” he repeated, smirking at her, “it’s for luck.”

“i’m not going to --”

“come on, ellie,” logan grinned, “he’s up, like, two thousand dollars. you have to!”

“this is so demeaning,” she grumbled, but pursed her lips and blew on the dice as requested. colt stared at her the entire time, not even breaking eye contact to roll.

it was only when the croupier said, “another easy eight,” and the table broke out into cheers that he looked away, directing his gaze down at the stack of chips that was pushed over to him.

“okay, what’s the next one?” he asked, taking the dice into his hand again.

“huh?”

“what am i rolling?”

“oh.” ellie glanced around the table and found everyone looking at her expectantly. “seven.”

“okay, any seven.” colt shook the dice in his hand, then held them out to her again. “come on.”

she leaned in a little closer. “you know, i’d love a drink at some point.”

“if we get this one i’ll find you a whole bottle of dom,” he promised. “blow.”

ellie blew on the dice. she grabbed colt’s arm anxiously as they waited for them to land.

they did, a moment later. she craned her neck and saw them facing up, over the line -- five and two.

all the noise they were making was starting to draw a crowd. ellie found herself sharing a grin with colt when he looked back at her again.

“another seven,” she instructed, head already bowed towards his hand.

he rolled a three and a four. the people gathering around the table were enraptured.

she blew on the dice again. a one and a six.

the forearm of his jacket had indents where her hand kept grabbing at it frantically, but colt never showed any outward signs of nervousness. if anything, he seemed to get more and more excited as ellie called out the numbers and he rolled them, one after another -- an eight. a six. a ten. another seven.

“holy shit, that’s twenty thousand dollars,” ingrid breathed finally, her mouth open in shock.

colt picked the stack of chips up, nodding at the roulette table behind them. “come on.”

“where are we going?” ellie asked, but followed him to the table anyway, her heart racing. all of their friends fell in line around them, hushed.

“we’re gonna double it,” he smirked. “red or black?”

“you’re going to bet it all?” her eyes went comically wide.

“ellie, red or black?”

everyone within hearing distance, including the attendant, was staring at her. she looked down at the table, and then at the screen, which was displaying the outcome of the last few rounds. her mind raced as she tried to calculate all the ways it could become more complex than just a fifty-fifty probability.

colt noticed her staring and shook his head at her. “just pick.”

“black,” she blurted out, and watched in horror as he dropped the entire stack of chips down onto her choice. “oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

his arm wound around her waist as the ball dropped into the table and started to roll around. instead of recoiling, ellie held onto him in return, digging her nails into the fabric of his suit as she stared.

there was dead silence at the table when the ball dropped neatly into the slot.

“twenty-nine,” the dealer announced, smiling at the both of them. “black.”

sound exploded all around them. their friends were jumping all over colt and the table, clapping him on the back, cheering and screaming. the spectators who’d been watching them joined in, and ellie couldn’t stop a deliriously joyful laugh from escaping as she looked, beaming, from the stack of chips on the table to colt’s face.

he was already grinning at her, and reached out to shove her shoulder excitedly before pulling the chips off the board and towards their end of the table -- four stacks of ten.

logan pushed between them, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “jesus christ. that was insane. way to make an entrance, el.”

“me?” she demanded incredulously, “what kind of person puts twenty thousand dollars on black?”

“what can i say,” colt shrugged, eyes still bright when they settled on her again, “i’m reckless.”

well, that was the understatement of the century. she slowly shook her head as the rest of the players at the table moved on to the next round. “i can’t believe that just happened.”

colt reached out and grabbed her wrist, then unceremoniously dropped five chips into her palm. “here. your cut.”

ellie blinked down at her hand like she’d never seen a casino chip before. “five thousand dollars?”

“hey, all you did was blow on some dice.”

“no, i --” she shook her head, trying to shove the chips back onto his pile with a laugh, “you don’t need to do that. it was fun.”

he shrugged. ellie watched in surprise as colt smiled at her, fixated on the upturned corners of his mouth. “whatever. remember i did the next time you’re pissed at me.”

colt walked off before she could try giving the money back to him again. she stared down at the chips in her hand for a moment, staring at all the zeroes that looked back up at her.

if what had just happened was any indication, it was probably going to be a strange weekend.

after dinner they went to a nightclub. her buzz was kicking in, so the lights and the music hardly bothered her as much as they might have on a normal night, and though she was loathe to admit it, colt had actually done a pretty nice job setting everything up. they had a booth to themselves and bottle service with sparklers, themed shots and props for both logan and ingrid -- sashes and buttons and crowns for the both of them.

seeing how happy everyone was made all the aggravation of the last six weeks worth it. before she knew it, she’d had more shots than was probably wise and her feet were killing her from dancing, leaving her flushed and sweaty when she stumbled back to the table.

as soon as she sat down, ingrid rushed over and grabbed her arm. “come on! i want to introduce you to a hot guy!”

“no,” ellie moaned, digging her heels into the booth while ingrid tried to drag her out of it, “stop, we’ve been dancing for hours. i need five minutes.”

“okay, but he’s so hot,” ingrid insisted, “and you could get laid tonight!”

“or we could just enjoy your bachelorette party!” she screamed back, over the music, “that’d be so fun, too.”

“oh my god, you’re impossible,” ingrid sighed, dropping down dramatically into the booth beside her. "look, he’s right over there.”

ellie followed the line of her eyes and saw an admittedly very hot guy standing with a few of their friends. she lifted her hand and waved at him, and he smiled charmingly back at her, waving in return.

from behind her hand, when she pulled it in to cover her mouth, ellie said to ingrid, “he looks kind of stupid.”

“oh my god,” ingrid groaned again, “forget it. i’m done trying to set you up.”

before she could argue further, logan ran over to refill his drink and pulled ingrid back up to her feet, dragging her away from the booth and back onto the dance floor.

ellie watched them go, then turned her eyes to the half-full bottle of vodka in the ice bucket on the table. she was in the middle of trying to decide whether or not she was one drink away from puking when colt walked up to her.

“hey, loser. you wanna dance?” he asked, just as she made up her mind and reached for the bottle. he wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the music, but ellie could see the shape of his mouth make each word clearly, mostly because she tilted her head up to stare at him in complete confusion as soon as he got close.

“with you?”

“i thought you were supposed to be smart,” he said, and she recognized the easy grin on his face from dozens of late nights out with all their friends in college; he was drunk. “come on.”

she stumbled to her feet and followed him without thinking too much about it, even though there was no way their friends weren’t looking at them as they found a spot on the dance floor together.

“you know how to dance?” ellie asked, blinking down at colt’s hands, which settled confidently on her waist, in absolute, total surprise, “since when?”

“since always,” he answered, lowering his mouth to her ear, “you just repress all my positive traits.”

“you don’t have any positive traits,” she shot back, though she gave in and wound her arms around his neck a moment later, letting him pull her in close.

“ouch,” colt murmured softly into her ear, and ellie sunk her teeth into her bottom lip at the low tone of his voice and its proximity. “that really hurts.”

her head tipped back to stare up at the flashing lights in the ceiling. colt didn’t say anything -- of course, he loved to get the last word -- and after a moment she forgot how utterly strange it was to be close to him at all and let herself enjoy the dance, smoothly moving her hips against his.

it was unnatural how natural it felt. she was dancing with colt kaneko -- it should have felt insane. they didn’t dance together. they didn’t get along.

except that evidently they did, and she kind of liked it, too.

when he dragged everyone out of the nightclub at three o’clock in the morning he wouldn’t tell them where they were going. even ellie was surprised to hear about a planned part two of the evening, though the way he seamlessly swiped a bottle of dom perignon from a table they passed on their way to the door and presented it to her as soon as they stepped back into the lobby of the hotel made her laugh with her whole body.

“you didn’t even pay for it,” she grinned, cradling it in her arms like a baby.

he looked around, then started leading everyone down a side hallway. “i never said i would. hang on.”

logan caught on as soon as they all stopped in front of the fancy glass doors marked pool, and ellie kept watch at the end of the hallway while the two of them worked to get the door open. one by one, their friends filed quietly inside to the hotel’s closed indoor pool, giggling while they stripped out of their clothes.

“this feels illegal,” ellie said, while ingrid helpfully lowered the zip on her dress for her, “no?”

“it’s only a crime if you get caught,” logan answered, running past and jumping in the pool directly in front of where they were standing at its edge, splashing them both.

“oh, you’re in for it,” ingrid promised, jumping off after him.

ellie self-consciously pulled her dress off the rest of the way, walking over to the steps and wading into the shallow end carefully. she swam out to join the rest of the group, head spinning from the drinks she’d had.

“hey.”

she turned around and came face-to-face with colt again, staring at what she could see of his bare chest, sticking out of the dark water before averting her eyes with a flush. “we’re totally all going to jail,” she said, apropos of nothing.

“that’s the plan,” colt returned, still smiling that easy, open smile. but he’d always been a lot more fun to hang out with when he was drunk.

“why’re you being so nice to me?” ellie asked abruptly, reaching out to hold onto the pool wall and treading water to stay afloat in front of him. “it’s weird.”

colt laughed. his own arm braced on the side of the pool beside hers, and she looked over at the way the water slid of his muscles, her mouth suddenly dry.

“guess i like the reactions i get,” he answered, effortlessly short-circuiting her brain as she tried to figure out what the fuck that was supposed to mean. “plus, it looks like you’re my good luck charm.”

“that was pretty crazy,” she acknowledged with a soft smile of her own, “i’ve never done anything like that before.” in fact, it’d been almost more excitement than she could handle.

“there’s so much i could show you.”

the look in his eyes was intense -- searching. she wasn’t sure what to say, but fortunately the noise from the rest of their friends splashing around covered the too-loud pounding of her heartbeat as he stood there staring down at her.

it was the most alive she’d felt in months. before tonight, she hadn’t even thought she’d want a break from her routine -- from school, from her work, from everything that made her her.

wading in the pool now, with colt, all she wanted was more.

before she could find something to say, logan and brent swam by, kicking up water with a splash. “come on!” logan called out as a wave of chlorinated water hit her smack dab in the face, “we’re doing back flips.”

she forced her eyes down and swam off after them, hurrying to put some space between them.

drunk as she was, it was a struggle to even stay afloat.

the semester wrapped up quickly; before she knew it, it was time to start shipping her things down to miami. ellie saw and heard from everyone less and less as she finished her coursework and switched into summer mode, even as the date of logan’s wedding grew closer.

finally it was time to hand her keys over to the girl who’d be subletting her apartment for the summer and catch her flight; when she stepped off the plane she forgot, for a moment, that she wasn’t home in los angeles -- it was humid and sunny and everyone around her looked happy, a far cry from the scene she’d left behind at jfk.

ellie went straight to her summer housing and checked in, a little astonished by how nice the apartment was. there was a pool in the back of the building and the beach was only a short walk away; there were floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the view to her and illuminating every last one of the boxes she’d have to unpack where they were cluttering her new living room floor.

her eyes landed on one marked kitchen stuff and ellie tore into it, using her keys to rip the tape. the still-sealed bottle of dom perignon from the bachelorette party was sitting on top of everything else, wrapped in bubble wrap.

the trip or the heat had probably made it go flat but she pulled it out anyway, sitting on the floor and popping the cork. ellie took a sip from the bottle and grimaced -- all expensive alcohol was disgusting.

she set it on the floor and took a photo for her pictagram story anyway, the boxes and the view in the background. it was only up for a few seconds before her phone screen lit up with an incoming message.

it was colt. dork was all he’d written, when she opened her direct messages. the little animation beneath his words indicated he was typing something else. how is it?

pretty bad she wrote back honestly.

guess i’ll have to work harder to impress you

she stared down at her phone, rereading the words twice before she huffed out a genuine laugh. ellie had been avoiding checking in with most of her friends while she focused on moving, but it felt pretty nice to talk to colt again. the new peace that had settled between them had admittedly been a welcome respite, distracting her from every stressor in her life.

with a shake of her head, she gave in and wrote back guess so.

everyone in the wedding was spending the entire weekend in santa monica, and ellie was grateful for the opportunity to avoid awkward conversation with her dad, heading straight to the hotel when she flew in on the morning of the rehearsal dinner.

things were already in full swing even though it was early in the day when she arrived; though she was exhausted from her flight and the work she’d left behind on the east coast ellie still let ingrid pull her up to her suite to start getting ready together.

one by one the rest of their friends started to trickle in, chatting excitedly about the wedding the next day, and eventually, after they’d gone over saturday’s schedule at least a thousand times, it was late enough in the afternoon that she had to go back to her own hotel room to get dressed for dinner.

ellie was the first of the girls to finish getting ready and logan and the rest of the guys were already downstairs at the lobby bar when she came out of the elevator. logan pulled her into a hug as soon as she got close, kissing her cheek hello.

“are you so excited?” she asked, squeezing his arms, “big day tomorrow.”

“i can’t wait. i know we did this fast but it still feels like we’ve been waiting for forever.” he looked adorably eager. “you look nice, by the way.”

“thank you,” ellie said primly, stepping out of his arms to spin in a circle, the skirt of her dress swishing around the tops of her thighs, “not half bad for an all-nighter and a cross-country flight, eh?”

“thanks for flying out so early. i’m so glad you’re here.” logan called the bartender over as she moved down the line to say hi to the rest of the groomsmen, and when she came back around to his other side to accept the drink he held out to her she noticed there was one person missing from the group.

“where’s colt?”

logan arched an eyebrow at her. her face flushed pink, and then worsened when that voice she could pick out of a crowd said from behind her, “miss me?”

the smart remark that was waiting on the tip of her tongue died when she turned around and saw him. he always wore formalwear well, but something about how he was dressed tonight captured her attention in a way that was impossible to ignore. she swallowed.

“just wondering if tonight might actually be peaceful or not,” she said finally, lifting her eyes from the few buttons that were open on his shirt at the front of his throat to look him in the eyes. “i guess it won’t be.”

he shrugged, leaning around her to signal the bartender for a drink of his own. “i promised i’d behave this weekend.”

“yeah, and you’d better follow through or ingrid’s going to come after us both,” logan grinned, waiting until colt had his glass in his hand before sticking his own in between the three of them. “cheers.”

“cheers,” ellie smiled, clinking her champagne flute delicately against the two rocks glasses in their hands, “congratulations. i’m so happy for you guys.”

“you can back out at any time,” colt said, and then, as ingrid finally walked over and hit him on the shoulder, “ow. what? you can back out, too.”

she linked her arm through logan’s, tilting her face up for a kiss. “no one’s backing out. come on.”

they filed into the restaurant, where everyone’s families were already waiting at one end of the long table. ellie sat down on ingrid’s right and came face-to-face with colt, who was sitting directly across from her at logan’s left. he smirked at her from the other side of the table, bumping his foot into hers underneath the tablecloth.

she kicked him back, turning her cheek to stifle a smile when she saw him wince as soon as her high heel collided with his shin.

dinner was surprisingly pleasant, making her cautiously optimistic for the way the rest of the weekend was going to go. tomorrow was sure to be exhausting, with a full day of primping and photos before the ceremony and reception, and the after party following late into the night, if she knew their group of friends at all.

but it’d probably be pretty fun, too. at least she could start drinking heavily as soon as her toast was over.

though she was woefully sober after the cake had been cut and the night started to wind down, certain that a hangover would be a wrench in tomorrow morning she just didn’t need, with the day ahead of her.

they all took their time saying goodbye and slowly started to head to the elevator. just outside the restaurant door, colt caught her elbow and asked, “wanna go for a walk?”

she stared back at him dumbly. why? “huh?”

“come on, the beach is right there.” his hand slid down her bare arm to curl around her wrist, and he tugged her towards the french doors that would lead them outside onto the hotel’s back patio before she could protest.

ellie slipped off her shoes as they moved down the steps and out into the sand, silent when they both walked off down the beach together. the stretch owned by the hotel was private and closed for the night, so they were the only two people making their way down to the ocean, though she still wasn’t exactly sure for what.

“how’ve you been?” she asked finally, when it felt like it’d been quiet for too long.

“fine. how are your... water samples?”

her eyebrows arched. part of her was amazed he’d remembered, and a little warmed by his thoughtfulness. “um, good,” she answered slowly, “well -- not good, they’re contaminated, but... good for me? to have something to study?”

out of the corner of her eye, ellie saw his lips twitch. it was good to know he still found her embarrassment amusing. “that’s good.”

“are you nervous for your speech tomorrow?” she asked, because she was certainly nervous about hers. his smile spread.

“no.” he’d long since let go of her arm, but colt still only shoved the hand on the other side of his body into his pocket, letting his other arm dangle near hers. “i’m just gonna wing it.”

“you’re going to -- i’m sorry, what?” she demanded, completely horrified. “you cannot just wing it.”

“well, i’m going to,” he shrugged, “so don’t lose sleep over it.”

“oh my god,” ellie groaned, “i feel sick just thinking about it. please tell me you’re joking.”

“you know i’m not,” he laughed, that same soft sound from the night of logan and ingrid’s engagement party, when he’d given her a ride home. her cheeks flushed just thinking about it. “don’t you ever get tired of being so self-righteous?”

“no,” she sniffed, “don’t you ever get tired of being so...”

ellie trailed off as she searched for the right word. colt stopped suddenly and turned in the sand to face her, grinning widely when their eyes locked. “so what?”

arrogant. smug. obnoxious. insufferable. reckless. “so...” she paused, tongue darting out to lick her lips, “well --”

colt leaned in and kissed her before she could decide which word she wanted to settle on. the hand that’d been in his pocket landed on her waist, and he lifted the other to her jaw, cradling her cheek in his palm when he pulled her closer to meet his lips.

she froze. part of her had been expecting this, though it still felt so unbelievably beyond imagining -- colt kaneko was kissing her after they’d spent the last eight years at each other’s throats, and tenderly, too, his lips soft and gentle when they brushed against hers.

ellie sighed quietly into his mouth, then looped her arm around him and kissed him back, sliding her fingers into his hair at the back of his head.

he was a good kisser. not that she’d thought about it, or anything, outside of one or two times --

fine, a few times...

colt snaked his arm fully around her waist and pressed his body in against hers as close as they could get; there was only the sound of the waves on the shore while they kissed for what felt like an eternity, with all the familiarity of two people who’d done this dozens of times before.

there was something about being alone with him that eased the tension being home always brought with it. something about the new calmness in their relationship reminded her of her apartment and new york and the places she’d always felt most like herself, almost like colt understood her and the things she wanted to say but wouldn’t without her even having to say them.

finally, his thumb pressed into the hinge of her jaw and he broke them apart, tipping his forehead against hers to stare into her eyes.

in the dark, with the moon behind him, the depths of his gaze consumed her entirely. ellie worked to catch her breath while staring back at him seriously, though there was surely some shock on her expression.

“um,” she said finally. “i --”

he swept her into another kiss and she was grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts before being expected to say something, though every last one she had left her abruptly when their lips met again. all she could focus on was how good the kiss was -- how it felt like giving into something she’d been holding off on allowing for far too long.

this time, when he pushed her away, he spoke up. “do you want me to apologize?”

ellie realized her fingers were still curled into his hair and forced them to relax. she dropped her hand onto his shoulder. “no.” her eyes lingered on the minute upturn at the corners of his mouth. “an explanation would be helpful, though.”

the hand colt had on the small of her back dipped lower. she raised her eyebrows at him again. “i want to spend the night with you,” he said bluntly, “if you want.”

she pretended to think about it, even though she already knew what her answer would be. judging by the look on colt’s face, he knew she was only acting, too, though he stayed quiet for once and let her go through the motions of looking back at the hotel in thoughtful consideration. “yeah,” she said finally, with a nod, “let’s go to your room.”

colt’s room was on the other side of the hotel, and he’d forgotten to pull the heavy-duty shades shut the night before, so the sun filtered in through the gauzy curtains and hit her in the face early, waking her up before she was ready.

ellie rubbed at her eyes and took in the sight before her: the muscled arm slung across her waist was attached to a set of broad shoulders and a sculpted torso, though colt was sleeping on his stomach so she could only see his back, the sheet draped low over his hips.

his face was squished into the pillow and he was still peacefully asleep, his breathing even and quiet beside her.

she stared at him for a few seconds before a deep sense of dread started to set in, filling her with slowly dawning horror.

you slept with colt kaneko! her brain screamed unhelpfully at her, like she didn’t already know. what the fuck were you thinking?

okay. this was fixable. all she had to do was get to her clothes and get out of his room before he woke up. she could make it back to her suite before anyone noticed she was gone, right?

his body stirred beside her as soon as she shifted to the edge of the mattress. ellie watched colt’s arm slip off her waist and stared as his eyes slowly blinked open, his jaw cracking with a yawn. “hey,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and perfectly cozy-sounding, halting her progress out of the bed and almost enough to make her turn right back around. “what time is it?”

“seven,” she returned just as quietly, and he flopped back against the pillow with a groan, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“the fuck are you doing up?” he grumbled. “christ.”

ellie shifted another inch to the edge of the bed. “we need to all start getting ready soon. pictures are at two.”

“it’s seven,” he sighed, “she can’t possibly expect you to --”

“she does.”

colt groaned again, louder this time. he rolled onto his back and pressed both palms against his face, then pushed his hands through his hair. “we’ll get up in ten minutes,” he declared decisively, dropping his cheek into the side of the pillow. his eyes were half-lidded when they landed on her. “come here.”

ellie hesitated at the edge of the bed, biting her lip.

that was probably a mistake.

she cleared her throat, averting her eyes. maybe all of this had been a mistake. it was so unlike her -- flirting with him, kissing him on the beach, having a one night stand. he’d never even liked her before she started doing all of these things that felt so wildly out of character for her. in fact, he’d always hated her.

what the fuck did he think they were doing, anyway?

panic was starting to set in, hot and desperate. “i should really get going,” she said, then stood and snatched her dress up off the floor before she could be sucked in by the curve of him against the mattress. “ingrid’s going to wonder where i am.”

there was complete and total silence as she pulled her clothes back on quickly, piece by piece. finally, colt said, “okay. i’ll see you later.”

his voice was slow -- carefully measured. ellie didn’t look at him before double checking to make sure she had her phone and room key and nodding blindly in the direction of the bed, doing her best to keep her voice faux-chipper. “totally,” she called out mindlessly, rushing out the door.

her chest squeezed tight with anxiety and refused to relent for the entirety of the morning. ellie found herself fighting off a meltdown through hair and makeup, through hours of gushing over ingrid and how beautiful she looked, through a session with the photographer in the bridal suite.

her thoughts were elsewhere during the group photos with everyone. it took every effort not to look colt’s way when they all got together before the ceremony to take so many pictures her face was hurting from maintaining her fake smile.

still, her mind drifted. the part of her that was adamant she’d made the right decision couldn’t seem to quiet the little voice beneath it wondering what if, her curiosity needling her brain incessantly.

now she’d never know what he might’ve been about to say or do. she wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of having two pieces of her life that didn’t fit together -- new york and school and los angeles and colt -- because there was no knowing if anything would’ve even come from it.

maybe that’s for the best, said the larger, more rational part of her brain.

all the excuses she’d used a thousand times before came back to her at once. she was too busy to date, probably, and ill-equipped to have a boyfriend. guys she’d dated in the past had complained about her being hot and cold, either clingy or distant depending on where she was with school or in her professional life. the only parts of herself she could actually tolerate most of the time seemed to be the biggest turn-offs: she was too driven, too focused on her passion projects.

each word felt hollow, now. maybe she hadn’t done the right thing.

ellie’s pulse raced dangerously as everyone lined up at the edge of the cliff for the outdoor ceremony. she and colt stood just behind logan, side-by-side.

he wasn’t looking at her. her stomach twisted unhappily.

she gently reached out to touch his arm. her voice was barely a murmur when she leaned in close and said, “hey, can i talk to you?”

colt looked down at her like she was insane. in front of them, logan started down the aisle. “now’s not really a good time.”

fuck. she was almost definitely going to lose her nerve, but he was right. she pursed her lips, looping her arm through his. her free hand clutched her flowers tightly.

colt felt stiff beside her, at odds with the easy way he’d held her last night. she used all her focus not to trip as they walked down the aisle together and then separated on either side of the altar, the both of them looking anywhere else but at each other.

fortunately, the ceremony provided a welcome distraction from her swirling thoughts. logan and ingrid had written their own vows, and she cried the entire time they spoke to each other, tears silently dripping down her cheeks as she watched two of her oldest friends profess their love.

even the poem ingrid’s sister read made her heart skip a beat, her bottom lip wobbling through the ceremony until the officiant finally pronounced them husband and wife.

ellie was still smiling through tears after they’d kissed and started back down the aisle together. she forgot to be nervous about walking with colt until he took her arm in his and said, “seriously?”

then everything that had happened rushed back to her at once, and she was uneasy and miserable again.

“come on,” ellie sniffed, dabbing delicately at her eyes, “that was beautiful.”

“it was something,” he mumbled, so quietly the excited din of the crowd nearly drowned him out. “i’ll catch up with you later.”

he dropped her arm as soon as he possibly could, disappearing into the venue. ellie watched everyone through the glass windows for a moment before following him inside with a sigh.

bathroom, then bar. even if the first thing she needed was a large glass of wine, the absolute last thing she needed was smudged mascara. everything else could wait.

it was almost the end of the cocktail hour when logan found her at the bar. ellie grinned at him wholeheartedly and passed him the champagne flute she’d taken for herself, signaling for another.

“thanks,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her arm, “like, a thousand people have already tried talking to me. you never told me this was going to be so exhausting.”

“getting married is a huge deal,” ellie laughed, “of course every single person here wants to talk to you. you’re going to be making the rounds all night.”

“just -- keep me occupied for a few more minutes,” he said, gaze darting around the room, “make it look like we’re having a really serious talk. start with whatever put that look on your face.”

“i don’t have a look on my face,” she argued, though she knew it was futile.

logan arched his eyebrows at her. “ellie.”

“what?” she asked. she shuffled her feet anxiously and then continued, “look, i’m sure colt already told you we slept together last night, so --”

logan started coughing, spitting champagne back into his glass. he set it down on the bar with wide eyes. “oh my god, you what?”

ellie felt her own eyes bug out to match. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no,” logan hissed, then coughed again. “what do you mean you slept together last night?”

“um,” ellie started, her voice high as she swiveled her eyes to the ceiling, “well...”

“jesus, i can’t believe he finally went for it.”

she slowly lowered her gaze back to his. her brow furrowed in confusion. “what?”

“oh, man. he’s liked you for forever. i didn’t think he was ever going to...” logan trailed off as he caught sight of the expression on her face, which cycled from confusion to realization to horror so quickly it made her head spin. “wait, how’d you guys leave it?”

“um,” she said again, cringing, “well...”

“yikes.” logan matched her look with a wince. “you should probably talk to him.”

she wandered into the ballroom as if in a daze. ellie found her seat at the table with the bridal party and breathed a sigh of relief once she noticed colt was far away from her at the other end -- at least ingrid had done her one favor.

after the toast, she told herself with a nod, i’ll talk to him.

after the toast she could have the hard drink she’d need to get through the conversation. they could take a few minutes to themselves.

but first she had to actually get through the toast, and that meant sitting politely while colt gave the best man speech, which he did unflappably well, of course, even though he hadn’t prepared for it at all.

ellie was reminded all at once what’d made her hate him in the first place: colt was good at everything without having to worry about it. in college, he’d effortlessly pulled perfect grades in even the most impossible classes; tonight was no different. he made jokes that landed perfectly with the crowd, getting the appropriate amount of laughs, and finished with something surprisingly sentimental that garnered lots of applause -- both ingrid and logan beamed at him when he sat down again.

and she had to go next.

she pointedly ignored him as she stood with her glass. “hey, everyone. i’m ellie. for those of you who don’t know me, ingrid and i met on the very first day of college -- eight years ago. i’d just turned eighteen and i was away from home for the first time. i actually bumped into ingrid in the parking lot...”

ellie hit all the marks, too: what she loved about her friends, what made them perfect for each other. “-- and i knew he was the one just from the way she’d talk about him. she always got so giddy, it was like there was a whole other side of her i’d never seen before. every day she’d have something new to say about him: ‘oh, logan said this,’ and, ‘oh, logan showed me that’ --”

everyone was crying by the time she wrapped up. ingrid blew her a kiss as she lifted her glass into the air, and ellie grinned brightly back at her and logan before the band came back on and she could finally sit down again.

the girls around her were gushing about how good her toast had been, but ellie leaned around them to catch colt’s eye at the other end of the table.

her eyebrows lifted meaningfully. she nodded at the dance floor.

colt rolled his eyes. she watched him shake his head.

ellie thrust her bottom lip out into a pout.

he looked sort of close to smiling, setting a swarm of butterflies loose in her stomach. it was both better and more dangerous than the thought of him being angry at her had been. later, he mouthed, turning away before she could frown at him any harder.

that was fine. it’d give her a little more time to work up her nerve -- hopefully.

she grabbed ingrid on her way back to the bar.

“oh my god, i can’t believe you,” ingrid sighed, squeezing her tight in a huge hug, “that was only the most beautiful toast of all time. you ruined my makeup, you bitch!”

“okay, you still look perfect,” ellie argued, squeezing her hand, “you’re the most beautiful bride ever. don’t even start.”

ingrid sighed wistfully, looking off towards the sweetheart table at the front of the ballroom. “i am pretty beautiful, huh?”

“are you kidding?” ellie demanded, “the whole thing was gorgeous.”

ingrid’s grin sharpened. out of nowhere, she said, “logan told me you totally fucked colt last night.”

“shhhh!” ellie cast a glance around desperately, but they were blessedly alone at the bar. “oh my god, i didn’t --”

“yeah, right. why didn’t you tell me?!”

“it’s your wedding day,” she laughed, “i wanted to -- i don’t know. it just happened, it was weird.”

“what’s he like?” she asked, passing ellie a glass of champagne.

“can we not do this?” ellie ducked her head behind the glass, trying to hide her flushed face. “isn’t it time for your first dance?”

ingrid waved her hand dismissively. “in a minute. so? spill!”

“oh my god, it was obviously incredible,” she mumbled into her champagne, “now get out of my face, this is exactly why i didn’t tell you.”

“fine, but we are so not done talking about this.” she reached out and tugged on one of the neat curls of her hair before linking her arm through ellie’s to walk back to the front of the ballroom together. “and you’d better save me a dance.”

she didn’t get her moment alone with colt until after the entrees. ellie had given up on trying to catch his eye, so she was surprised when he walked over and said, “i’ll take that dance, now, if you can stop crying long enough to make it happen.”

“people with souls cry at weddings,” she huffed, standing and taking his hand in hers, “i’m sorry you can’t relate.”

“you’re forgiven,” he smirked, so that she could almost pretend there was absolutely nothing weird going on between them as they walked out onto the dance floor.

but his expression shifted when the song changed and her hands laced together behind his neck, absolving her of that illusion near-immediately. she cleared her throat as his hands settled on her hips and they started to sway together.

“i’m sorry,” she said again, more seriously this time.

he pursed his lips, then shrugged. “for what?”

“for being weird this morning. i don’t know what you were going to say -- um, if you were going to say anything, but i totally freaked out and i obviously didn’t even give you a chance to get to it, so. that was uncool. sorry.”

colt’s gaze was calculating on hers. she wondered what he was thinking. “don’t worry about it,” he said finally. “it’s nothing.”

she drew in a deep breath. well, if he wasn’t going to give her an inch... “logan said you’ve always liked me.”

ellie watched as his eyes narrowed. “logan’s lucky today’s his wedding day,” colt murmured darkly. his hands tightened on her hips briefly, then released. he turned his head and leveled his glare on her. “so?”

“so -- i thought you hated me,” she laughed, that thread of nervousness back again. “you never -- i mean, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

he rolled his eyes at her. “okay, you’re always, like -- smiling and happy and constantly surrounded by people. when we were in school you were in, like, student government and on debate team and running a thousand clubs or doing extra lab hours and everyone always liked you -- so you wanted me to, what, exactly? just walk right up to you and be like, hey, do you want to see a movie?”

ellie gaped at him, her mouth open in shock. “i -- yes! you could have just asked me out.”

“right,” colt snorted, “that would’ve gone over well. you thought i was a total asshole.”

“colt, you were a total asshole,” she reminded him.

he shifted back and forth on his feet. ellie stared in fascination as the tips of his ears went red when he dipped his head to avert his eyes. “i didn’t want you think i had a crush on you or anything.”

it felt a lot like she was having an out-of-body experience. “well... did you have a crush on me?”

colt cleared his throat. “you weren’t like everyone else,” he said, in lieu of an answer, “you’re still not. but i get that you’re busy. this doesn’t have to be, like, a thing.”

“hang on, i’m still processing.” whatever this was, it was officially bizarre.

it seemed impossible to wrap her head around what he’d just admitted: that he’d always liked her, even at her most neurotic, at the most school-obsessed, five-year-plan focused she’d ever been.

so she didn’t have to change.

for once, it didn’t feel like she needed to put up some front that was, frankly, exhausting to maintain.

everything just felt -- nice.

“done yet?” he demanded, “the song’s almost over.”

ellie leaned in and kissed him, uncaring of anyone who might see. his hands were warm over the cutouts in the dress at her sides and she was breathless when they finally broke apart, long after the song had changed.

the look on colt’s face was a mixture of self-satisfied and surprised when he pulled her off the dance floor and out onto the terrace. “i am busy,” ellie said, once they were alone.

colt nodded, looking out at the view of the beach below them. “i know.”

“but -- if you really don’t mind that i have to split my focus with school... and the distance... and the time difference...”

“are you trying to talk me out of it?” he asked, sounding amused.

“...then obviously i’d love to date you or whatever.”

“huh.” colt was smiling as he stared at the ocean. “i guess i probably should have just asked out you five years ago, then.”

“it might’ve been easier,” ellie allowed, shifting to lean her shoulder against his. she reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. “but that’s not really our style.”

colt turned and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “true,” he hummed, and then, “you smell like you have a whole can of hairspray in your hair.”

“i probably do.” she hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. “are you sure you want to do this?”

“yeah.” ellie looked back up at him and found colt’s eyes still stuck thoughtfully on the view. “i’ve wanted to for a really long time.”

“that’s so crazy to me.”

“why?” he finally turned and looked at her, his gaze no less intense than it had been last night by the ocean. “ingrid’s right. you are a catch. it’s crazy to me that you’ve stayed single all this time.”

“well, i was --” she bit the inside of her cheek to avoid again using the word busy, and then pivoted to a more uncomfortably honest answer, “-- never interested in compromising. before now.”

his lips spread into a smile. she felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of it, soft and genuine and open on his face. “figures i’d be the one to break your streak,” colt said, in that same overconfident way she always used to hate.

“oh my god, do not start,” she huffed, using their joined hands to push his side until he stumbled a step away.

colt retaliated by spinning her around and pulling her in close, trapping her against the ledge of the balcony before she could move. “why?” he challenged, “what are you going to do about it?”

she was going to kiss that stupid smirk right off his face, for one.

and he was going to spend the night dancing with her and later hold back her hair when she had too much to drink.

then they’d both spend most of sunday in bed, skipping brunch with the rest of their friends to put the hours before her flight to better use.

colt would drive her to the airport. they would say their goodbyes on the curb.

and she would be too excited to sleep on the trip back to miami.

“just wait,” she threatened, though her voice was sweet; she tilted her chin up to brush their noses together. “you’ll see. i have it all planned out.”

the look in his eyes made her feel like she was doing something dangerous; colt looked both fond and delighted, content and sweet and sure. his free hand lifted to thumb at her cheekbone, like part of him was still surprised to find the both of them out here, wrapped up together like they were.

“i’ll bet,” he returned, his voice low and full of promise. “that work ethic is one of the things i like most about you.”

“you’ll have to give me a list of the rest,” ellie laughed, eager to hear his take on it all from what was arguably the most unique perspective in their friend group.

“eh, you can wait,” colt shrugged, gently pressing her in along the stone ledge behind her back on the balcony, leaning over her with another grin, “there’s a few other things we have to catch up on first.”

fair point, she thought, though she’d be damned if she ever actually agreed with him out loud. she had a lot to fill him in on, too.

he’d probably waited long enough, though, so ellie folded first and gave him that kiss she’d planned, colt’s smirk dissolving as expected when his mouth pressed against hers.

when they finally broke apart and turned to head back inside, they drew up short outside the doors to the balcony. every last one of their friends was standing in front of the glass facade, staring at them, their eyes wide and their mouths open. ingrid and logan in particular looked unreasonably overjoyed.

“christ,” colt sighed, as ellie instantly flushed bright red beside him, “is this what this is going to be like all the time?”

“no take backs,” she said, squeezing his hand. she turned to look up at him just in time to catch his eye roll, and the subsequent glare that made the group watching them from behind the door scatter with raucous laughter.

“fine,” he answered, sounding put-upon, but she hadn’t looked away yet and so she still caught the private smile that tugged his lips up against his will.

perfect, ellie thought to herself, and then, for the first time in as long as she could remember, nothing else -- no self-doubt, no exhaustion, no pretending.

colt was probably going to have to help her get used to how it felt to have everything she wanted.

#rodaw #colt kaneko #colt kaneko x mc #choices rod #ellie wheeler #colt kaneko x ellie wheeler #myfic #long post #i love this trope................. too much #GOD i'm so glad i finished this in time !!#there's nothing n/s/f/w in here by the way #the 18+ rating is for swearing lol #and the implication of sex #but we did a tasteful fade to black ladies #also if you ever mentioned wanting to read this you got tagged lol hope that's okay !!#ride or die

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offtopicoverload · 4 years ago

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Hope Dumps Noah

I have no logical explanation for what this is, but @bubblybabynailpolish had an anon bring up Noah + Hope = Jade + Beck from Victorious a while ago, and it’s been living rent free in my head for weeks so here’s some bullshit. It’s loosely based on that one episode where Jade gets Tori to win back Beck except gayer and more litg and exists purely to appease the gremlin that is early 2010s me yelling in the back of my mind. And thanks to Anne for answering my weird asks, this is what they were for lmao

T Rating (fluff and angst, some elements of the show kinda? i tried at least)

Hope x MC (Rosie)

~10k (got super carried away but didnt wanna make multiple parts so take it as you will. on the bright side, it'd be longer if i edited properly but im tired so no)

Rosie’s front door shakes on its hinges, a pounding, thundering sound echoing from the other side, berating the wood as it quivers and quivers. Her head flies up in surprise, half expecting an army to spill into her flat, battering ram in hand as they shout orders. But no such event occurs, and she leaps up from the sofa in the corner, pocketing her phone and hurrying across the room before yanking the door open. She immediately freezes in place, meeting bewildered, watery eyes standing on the other side of the threshold.

Tears are streaming down splotchy cheeks, a throat bobbing as it fights to maintain some sort of composure, even as bones tremble beneath skin, shivering regardless of the heat of the building. “Um, uh, hey?” Rosie tries awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and gripping the knob with pale knuckles.

“Can I come in?” the words waver as they leave messy, tear-muddied, brightly stained lips, pouring out like broken shards, creating their own trail alongside tears. Red eyes glance down the hallway, paranoid as they search for something, even in the late night, “I don’t - I don’t want to be out here where -” a sniffle “- where people can see.”

Rosie blinks a few times, her mind still slowly working to process the situation that’s just presented itself to her. But dark eyes are glimmering with shed and unshed tears, pleading beneath lashes and shadows from poor corridor lighting, and she startles into action, “Yeah! Yeah, er, yeah,” she mumbles, moving aside and holding the door open in invitation.

The threshold’s crossed, hurrying inside the flat with arms crossed, making a beeline for the upholstered sofa backed against the wall and dropping down onto it. Rosie closes the door, locking it carefully, neurotically, slowly, just to give herself time to think, to make sense of what to do with one of the last people she ever expected inside her flat: Hope.

Hope’s sitting on her sofa, curled in on herself to take up as little space as possible, cheeks covered in the remnants of despair that Rosie can’t even explain, let alone prepare herself for. Hope’s sniffling in her living room, palms running up and down her biceps to calm herself, her throat struggling to stifle sobs she’s ashamed of. Hope’s crying in her flat, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid the world, makeup streaked and smudged on all of her features, features wracked with inexplicable pain.

Rosie turns from the door, brushing her clammy palms on her sweatpants over and over again, a distractionary stimuli to calm the nerves slowly bubbling beneath her skin. Nerves she hasn’t felt in months, and was determined to never feel again, not after weeks and weeks of the constant feeling of insects crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and biting and squirming. She glances up, finding Hope’s eyes trained on her, hesitant and terrified from across the room, the flat’s lights reflecting in them, her damp cheeks shimmering in the warm colours.

Rosie forces her lips to curl in a tiny smile as she approaches, somewhat slow and cautious, until she can fall into the cushions beside Hope, bloodshot eyes never straying from her movement. Rosie risks a hand on her back, gently skating up and down her spine, an attempt at comfort she doesn’t have a reason to provide. But she provides it anyway, praying it’ll help, it’ll keep the tears from dripping down Hope’s jaw and dampening her top.

Only it doesn’t, only Hope begins to crumble, falling against her and burying her face against Rosie’s shoulder, sobs shaking her shoulders, trembling like the door on its hinges. Rosie wraps her arms around the quaking body clinging to her, murmuring a few quiet assurances, an offer of a lifesaver in the raging sea drowning her. Her hands draw circles on Hope’s vulnerable back, shapes to distract herself with, to ground herself with.

Hope bawls and whimpers and sobs and shakes for what feels like forever to Rosie, a forever that’s odd and uncomfortable, a forever that she doesn’t know what to make of. It’s not that she’s necessarily upset with it - she’s done this for girl friends in the past, she knows how to help a heartbroken woman - it’s just who she’s helping. She hasn’t seen Hope since the finale, since she walked away with her hand clasped in Noah’s, since Rosie split the money with Arjun, just to appease the audience.

He was sweet, sure, but they just didn’t fit. She didn’t feel like he was her other half, her perfect match, a missing piece in the puzzle that constructs her life. She didn’t see herself sacrificing things for him, didn’t see herself working for her relationship with him, didn’t see herself with him, point blank. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

Which is exactly why she has no idea what to make of the woman dampening and wrinkling her sweater, face pressed to her shoulder and hands fisted in her shirt. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs against Hope’s head, her breath hot where it brushes skin, a shiver running through Hope at the exhale.

This is unfamiliar territory to Rosie, unknown ground as she slowly steps into no man’s land, wary of land mines sitting beneath the dirt. Land mines of glares and scoffs and dismissals, land mines that sat in every corner of the Villa. Maybe in another life this would be normal, be commonplace, but not in this one.

Not in the world where Rosie kissed Noah in the Villa’s lounge that fateful day, that day that she’s regretted ever since. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, it was only supposed to help Priya and Bobby. It wasn’t supposed to cause the end of the world or hurt Hope as much as it did. It wasn’t supposed to confuse Noah as much as it did or leave him dragging things on for ages. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all, anything but a blatant mistake.

But it was, it was so much, and now here they are, months and months later. Hope hasn’t spoken to Rosie since the finale, and Rosie didn’t even mind. She’s barely kept in touch with anyone, the only people she speaks to being Chelsea and Priya, since they’re always first to reach out. Even in the Villa, Hope would barely speak to her, and it hurt for a while. It hurt that they had been so close and were suddenly so far, but she always forced that hurt away. It was her own fault, it was her actions that led to Hope hating her guts.

Except, maybe she doesn’t hate Rosie��s guts. Maybe she doesn’t want her dead or wish she was never born. Maybe she still thinks about when they were friends like Rosie does. Maybe there’s a reason she’s crying in Rosie’s arms in this moment, that she showed up at Rosie’s door, that she sought out something only Rosie could presumably offer.

Hope swallows thickly, her head turning until her cheek’s resting against Rosie. “We broke up,” Hope croaks, stifling another sob as she forces her voice out again, “I - I dumped Noah.”

“Oh, um…” Rosie fumbles, her hand tracing the length of Hope’s spine beneath her heavy, navy, patterned sweater, “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words still warm as they settle on Hope’s skin.

“It’s my fault,” she whimpers, turning her face back to Rosie as another tremble courses through her, a barely suppressed noise of anguish dying in her throat.

Rosie resumes her reassurances, her small whispers into Hope’s scalp, her tight hold on Hope’s quivering body. She cycles through every calming technique or phrase she can think of what must be a hundred times over, until Hope quiets, until Rosie stops feeling tears on her neck, until steady, even breathing fills the flat.

She swallows to stabilise herself before asking the all important question, one she’s a little nervous to hear the answer to, “Can I - Can I ask why you’re here? And, uh, so upset? If it was your decision?” she trips over her words, a flower of nerves blossoming in her stomach, and she wants to stamp it out, to stop it from pulling her in once more.

Hope pulls away from, her face set in malleable stone even with tears glistening on her cheekbones, sparkling in the overhead lights Rosie had on, diamonds tumbling down her skin, soft enough not to cut. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I - I didn’t know what to do,” she confesses, her head bowing and eyes staring into her lap.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, a palm still skating up and down the length of Hope’s upper arm, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You can just stay here if you want?” she offers uneasily, shifting awkwardly in her spot.

Hope’s eyes flicker up to meet Rosie’s, a cautious hopefulness in them, “I can? It’s not, like, weird?” she mumbles, averting her gaze once more.

“Not if you don’t think it is,” Rosie counters as coolly as she can manage.

Hope shakes her head adamantly, “No, no, I’d… I’d rather not be on my own right now.”

Rosie smiles in what she hopes comes across as encouraging, “That’s cool. You want me to stay out here? We can watch a movie?” she proposes with pinched brows and squinted eyes.

A gentle, hesitant smile quirks Hope’s mouth, “Yeah.” She pauses, contemplative and nodding distractedly, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Rosie rises from the sofa, crossing the living room to flip off the lights and grab the remote and a pile of blankets sitting in the corner. She drops them beside Hope in a heap, crashing onto the opposite side of the sofa a second later. She flicks through streaming services until Hope points out some random romcom, Rosie turning it on as Hope relaxes into the sofa with one of the blankets.

Rosie doesn’t pay much attention to the film, playing with her box braids distractedly and only having a loose grasp on the cheesy plot, but she notices every time Hope laughs, the sound becoming more and more relaxed as time goes on. Rosie sinks into the cushions, her legs folded and arms wrapped around her torso, head lolled against the back of the sofa.

It’s hard to tell when her eyelids fall shut, or when the movie ends, or when Hope moves, but Rosie wakes up to a dark screen flickering through backgrounds and ads for streaming exclusives. She wakes up to Hope’s head resting on her shoulder and a blanket splayed across her lap, as if Hope was worried she’d be cold without it.

She blinks a few times in the dark, taking in the scene around her and slowly processing what her night has become. She only wanted to sit on her phone before going to bed early after her long day at work. She didn’t expect a crying woman to show up at her doorstep or to watch a bad movie until too early in the morning, or to fall asleep in the living room. A sigh shakes her chest, and she reaches for the remote, turning off the telly and settling back into the sofa, Hope shifting beside her with the adjustment.

---

Rosie wakes up to sunlight pouring into her flat and a deserted sofa, blankets the only remnants of Hope’s night spent in the living room. She slumps forward, head in her hands as she adjusts to the too-bright sun and the noise of London already filtering inside, honks of car horns and a hum of people on the streets providing a familiar soundtrack to her wake up.

“I want to get him back,” a voice declares, the words wavering slightly as they fall from lips set in a frown.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lifts her head, blinking to clear her vision. She finds Hope standing across the room, arms crossed and expression determined as she meets Rosie’s gaze.

“I want to get Noah back, I want to tell him I’m sorry for the breakup,” Hope repeats, her voice sturdier now.

Rosie nods, her mind still foggy but the haze slowly clearing, “Okay. That’s good,” she rationalises slowly, rising from the sofa and stretching her muscles; she’s made a point to avoid sleeping on the sofa normally. She stalks into the kitchen, falling into her usual morning routine easily.

Hope follows behind her, eyes widening, “It is?” she sounds surprised, stopping a ways away from Rosie, feet on the wood.

“Yeah, if you were happy together,” Rosie nods again, turning to her kitchen appliances. She starts with coffee, collecting beans and supplies meticulously as always, setting them out in a particular pattern beside the fridge.

Hope crashes into a barstool at the counter behind Rosie, her voice coming out softer now, “We were,” she confirms.

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs. “So go get him back,” she turns, forearms dropping to the counter beneath her to support her weight. She watches Hope curiously, expecting some explanation or excitement or something of the like, but Hope’s gone silent, her lip slipping between her teeth to worry the skin. Her gaze is trained on the pale countertop, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Hope?” Rosie asks gently.

Dark eyes fly up to meet her own, snapping up too quickly, “Yeah?”

“You okay?” Concern wells in Rosie’s gaze before she can prevent it, her upper body unconsciously leaning forward to inspect Hope and find what’s suddenly irking her.

“Yeah,” Hope nods.

Rosie isn’t quite convinced, her brows knitting together, “You sure?”

Hope’s eyes flicker around the kitchen for a minute to avoid the deep eyes watching her before her shoulders slump, defeated and exhausted, “No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

“What’s wrong?”

A heavy sigh lifts Hope’s shoulders, twitching them lightly “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, not after yesterday.”

Rosie pauses. She hadn’t really considered that, just assumed Noah would be as torn up about the breakup as Hope had been, that he’d been jumping in place if Hope said it was a mistake. Her fingernails tap at the counter as she considers, weighing her options before diving right in, “Do you want me to try?”

Hope’s eyes dart to Rosie again, still just as surprised as earlier, as if everything Rosie does is entirely unbelievable, “You’d do that?”

“I guess?” Rosie gives an awkward shrug, averting her eyes and turning around to continue making coffee. She grabs milk from the fridge before finishing the process, pouring everything into a mug, “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles when she faces Hope again, swirling the dark liquid in a whirlpool.

It’s a long, almost painful amount of time before either of them utter another word. “Thank you,” Hope whispers the words, a tiny break in the quiet of the flat, of the bubble that’s formed in the kitchen.

---

The next day, long after Hope leaves her flat, long after Rosie made eggs and coffee for the both of them, long after Hope gave Rosie a quick hug in thanks, Rosie grabs an Uber to the other side of the city, to the library Noah works at. She strides into the building with her hands knotted in the pockets of her jacket, nerves clamming her palms as she scans the open area she’s found herself in. It’s relatively empty, only a few people sitting and working or browsing shelves idly in the middle of the day.

She searches a few aisles, glancing down empty passageways and passing shelf after shelf loaded with books. A few patrons give her odd looks, some outright glaring at her for her behaviour, but she eventually finds Noah in a back corner, restocking a few shelves in practiced motions, a cart loaded with books parked beside him.

“Hey,” she greets from down the aisle, waving slightly with an uneasy smile when he glances at her in surprise.

He adds the books in his hands to the shelf before turning to face her properly, his expression slightly stunned, “Hey,” he greets back, his tone puzzled as one hand falls to the book cart to lean against.

Rosie ventures further into the aisle, her eyes darting around as she attempts to figure out how to broach the tender subject of a breakup from only two days ago. She stops before him, folding her arms and rolling up and down on her toes, “So…” she starts, looking up at him from beneath her lashes in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s getting at.

He doesn’t, only blinking as he looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation for her presence. She sighs, one hand fiddling with the tips of her braids nervously, rolling them between the pads of her fingers, “You and Hope broke up?” she eventually asks, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as she can muster.

His eyes go wide, his jaw falling open, “Um, yeah, but I - Look, you’re really amazing but I think I need a little time, you know, and if you’ll wait, that’s great, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything, but again, you’re amazing, I just…” he trails off as he takes in the confusion on her face, a blush growing on his cheeks.

Then it clicks, “Oh!” she startles. “No, no, I - mate, I didn’t come to hit on you,” she clarifies, somewhat taken aback by the conclusion he so quickly jumped to. “I’m not here to ask you out, no,” she reiterates.

He nods swiftly, muttering a few apologies under his breath before clearing his throat. “So, um, why are you here then?” he asks, careful and wary of saying something else wrong.

Rosie shifts on her feet, hands falling back to fidget in her jacket pocket’s, “Well… I kinda got the impression that Hope regrets the way things went down and wants to try again,” she forces, drawing herself to her full height, still a few inches shorter than the man before her.

Confusion flickers on his face, “How’d you get that impression?”

“I talked to her.”

The confusion grows, a crease splitting his eyebrows, “She talked to you?”

“She showed up at my flat,” Rosie answers casually.

“Why?”

She shrugs, mumbling out an “I dunno” in response.

“And you’re fine with that? And you’re helping her?” his arms cross over his chest as he asks, staring down at her intently, intimidatingly.

“Yeah,” she shrinks under his gaze, drawing her jacket tighter to block out the sudden chill coursing down her spine.

Noah’s lips twist, though in frustration or anger or upset, Rosie can’t tell. “Why?” he repeats.

Rosie sighs, shrugging again at the lack of a better answer, offering her best explanation, “She was really torn up about it.”

“She dumped me,” he states calmly, matter-of-factly, dismissively.

“I know.”

He watches Rosie carefully for a moment, taking in her appearance as she shuffles on her feet, unable to conceive of where this conversation is going next. “Do you know why?” he finally asks, Rosie stilling at the question.

“No,” she admits reluctantly.

“I got lunch with Priya, alone.”

“Well, yeah, that’s not great,” sarcasm soaks her words, coating her throat as the syllables escape.

Noah blinks at her, still stern and calm, “Because Ibrahim and Marisol had to cancel.”

“Oh,” Rosie freezes, her body tensing uncomfortably. That changes things. She swallows thickly, eyebrows raising and curving together, “Does she know that?”

“I tried to tell her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen now.”

“She never does,” Noah shrugs, his demeanor unchanged and unaffected.

She looks to him in disbelief, “That can’t be true.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, his guard finally cracking as his arms fall back to his sides, disappointment radiating from him like warmth from a fire, “For my birthday she got me The Old Man and the Sea,” he looks at Rosie as if he expects her to understand what that means.

“Okay…” she squints. She knows enough about literature to know it’s a classic, that most students have to read it at one point, herself included. “Why’s that bad? You’re a librarian.”

Noah’s lips curve in a slight frown as he straightens impossibly taller, “I hate Hemingway,” he nearly spits the name, a frown splitting Rosie’s own lips at his obvious displeasure.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

---

Hope shows up at Rosie’s flat again that night, her features fraught as she hurries in, hugging herself tight with her coat. She drops onto the sofa after she enters, Rosie following a beat behind and folding her legs on the cushions, Hope nearly vibrating in her skin as she watches Rosie expectantly.

When Rosie only meets her gaze, she sighs exasperatedly, “Well? What’d he say? He didn’t text me or anything,” she leans forward, eager to learn.

Rosie shifts under the excitement presented to her, excitement she knows is about to die, “He, uh, he wasn’t really on board with you guys getting back together,” she mumbles, avoiding shining eyes.

Hope visibly deflates in only a heartbeat, her bottom lip poking out as tears well in her eyes, every part of her depressed and hurt, “He wasn’t?” Her voice is small, painfully so to Rosie’s ears.

She forces herself not to cringe at the tone, at the way Hope’s fighting tears once more, “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’ve done a lot,” Hope sniffles, wiping at her nose and blinking back tears to calm herself, to prevent another onslaught of sobs on Rosie’s sofa. “You’ve done a lot,” she repeats, eyes trained on the fabric of the cushions beneath them, staring intently just to have something to focus her energy on. “Did he say why?” she finally asks after a minute, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.

“Er -” Rosie squirms, fidgeting nervously, “He said he didn’t think you really listened to him,” she draws out the words, not wanting to speak them.

Hope is absolutely appalled, her jaw falling open in horror, “That’s - That’s not true!” she eventually manages the words, her mouth fumbling them.

“I know, but -”

“I listen!” she insists, hands flying up to grip Rosie’s forearm desperately, in search of confirmation that she’s a good person, a good partner, “Why would he say that, Rosie?” she’s panicked as her grasp tightens, falling away only a second later, “Why would he say that?” she repeats, softer now, a whisper.

“He said for his birthday you got him a Hemingway book,” Rosie chances.

Hope’s arms fold over her chest protectively, “He didn’t have any Hemingway.”

“‘Cause he hates Hemingway,” Rosie explains as gently as she can, Hope immediately slumping again, any retorts or defences forgotten.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, Hope staring at nothing and Rosie staring at Hope, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to get sad or angry or maybe just leave all together. But she doesn’t, meeting Rosie’s eyes with a fire inside her own, “I need something else.” She’s determined as she sinks into the cushions, thinking raptly of some solution. “What if I get him a gift?” a lightbulb seems to explode above her head as she sits up again.

Rosie blinks at the quick change in mood, taken aback at the grin sitting on Hope’s lips. “Like what?”

“He likes Greyhounds?” Hope proposes with a tilt of her head and a quirk of an eyebrow, “He always said he’d love to have one.”

“You’re gonna buy him an entire dog?” Rosie asks in shock, her tone stunted and sharp.

Hope scowls at her in irritation, “He likes them!” she defends, “He’s talked about them a lot, and it’ll show I listen, right?”

“I guess?”

“What do you mean you guess?”

Hands fly up in self-defence and attempted placation, “This is your relationship, I don’t know him or what goes,” Rosie gestures in the air separating her from Hope, working to diffuse the tension.

Hope huffs, crossing her arms and collapsing into the cushions behind her, “Fine.”

---

Hope spends the next few days looking up shelters and breeders, trying to decide on a puppy or an adult or even an elderly dog, researching proper care for a Greyhound and what they need. Rosie doesn’t see or hear from Hope until her phone’s ringing incessantly as she gets out of the shower, scrambling to answer it and silence the buzzing, “Hello?” she asks without even reading the Caller ID, fumbling to turn on speakerphone.

“Hey!” Hope’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and energetic. “I found one!” she announces, clearly pleased with herself and her findings.

“Hmm?” Rosie questions distractedly, tightening her towel wrapped around her body and grabbing skin and hair products to set them on the bathroom sink.

“I found a dog! I went to a shelter!”

Rosie nods, only realising afterwards that Hope can’t see her, sighing as she coats her face in moisturiser. “That’s great,” she hums again.

“Can you come over tonight? And we bring him to Noah’s flat? Please?” her voice is begging as it rings through the phone, Rosie glancing to it as Hope draws out the vowels of her plea.

“Uh, yeah, I think I’m free,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting as she applies products.

She’s reaching for the end call button after a long silence when a quiet murmur surprises her, “Thank you,” Hope whispers into her phone from the other side of the line.

A small smile curves Rosie’s mouth, “No problem.”

---

“You’re the worst,” Hope groans as she tugs on a leash, glaring at Rosie and her amused smile beside her.

“Says the one that dragged me into this,” Rosie grins, popping her eyebrows for effect. She’s refused to assist with the dog the entire time, forcing Hope to try and wrangle the full grown animal.

It darts forward down the street, yanking Hope along, “Hey!” she chastises, Rosie laughing unabashedly from behind her, jogging to catch up. “You could help, you know! He listened to you earlier!”

Rosie smirks, “Oh, I know. This is much more fun, though,” she teases, falling into another fit of laughter as Hope digs her heels into the pavement, working to pull the dog back.

He doesn’t listen, carrying on in the direction of the library. Noah wasn’t at his flat, so they’ve been forced to take a short detour to find him without waiting. “At least he knows where he’s going,” Rosie comments, still grinning.

Hope shoots her a scowl, “How lucky,” she spits through gritted teeth, her jaw tight as she uses all her strength to keep the dog from running off into London’s streets.

Rosie sighs as Hope nearly trips over her own feet, crouching down and whistling sharply. The dog turns, bolting for her, nearly tackling her to the ground until she grips his fur to keep upright, cooing over him the entire time. Hope’s gaze is a mix of disappointed, annoyed, and mildly impressed as Rosie grins up at her, scratching the dog behind his ears.

She pops back to her feet, stealing the leash from Hope in one smooth motion, “You’re welcome,” she hums, setting back off on their path, the dog following obediently on her heels.

She hears Hope groaning about it behind her until she catches up, muttering a ‘thanks’ under her breath, much to Rosie’s enjoyment. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet, only a few good natured ribbings from Rosie or complaints from Hope filling the space as they work their way to the library, street lamps illuminating much of their path in the dark evening.

Noah spots them before they spot him, the pair distracted as Rosie laughs at Hope’s grumbling, Rosie nearly walking into a post as she struggles to stay upright. “Stop it!” Hope chides, slapping her shoulder, which only makes Rosie laugh even harder.

“Um, hi?” Noah calls out to them, earning their gazes simultaneously. Hope stiffens, Rosie sobers, and the dog slobbers onto the pavement beneath their feet.

Rosie passes the leash back to Hope, taking a step back and away from their reunion, much to Noah’s confusion. “Hi,” Hope greets back, his eyes settling back on her.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, his tone slipping into something adjacent to wariness, maybe light caution.

A bright smile curves Hope’s mouth and she sticks her hand out, offering the leash and the dog attached to it, “I got you a dog!” she announces eagerly, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one, so…” she trails off at his expression.

His eyebrows are drawn tight, lips working to form some words, “You got me a dog?!” he balks, his expression soon slipping into anger, almost a snarl, with his eyes blazing. Hope taking a step away from him, blinking rapidly as her mind audibly whirs.

“You always said you wanted one!” she explains, a spark igniting in her own dark eyes, threatening to start a fight.

“That doesn’t - What were you thinking?!”

Hope’s jaw sets tight, but it’s not enough to hide the shimmer in her eyes, “You like them, I know you do! And you don’t think I listen, but I do, so I’m proving that to you!” she counters, her voice raising.

Noah looks baffled, his hands flying and mouth opening and closing as he searches for words, “He won’t fit in my flat, Hope! He’s big and - and has a ton of energy!” he gestures wildly to the dog that’s found his way to Rosie, sitting in front of her as she scratches behind his ear.

“I thought that’s what you liked about them!” Hope’s own arms are waving, in both exasperation and irritation. One hand rises to fidget with her braids, tugging on and fiddling with a few.

“Yeah, for when I’m in a house, not a tiny flat!” Noah shouts back, “I can’t have him! I don’t want him!”

Any fire that had been blazing in Hope’s dark eyes dies out at that, at the way Noah’s glaring at her, at the way he’s dismissed her peace offering, her attempt to fix things between them. “But -”

“You can’t just -” he huffs sharply before trying to school his expression into something calmer, “You can’t just do these things without asking, it’s like you don’t even care what I think.”

Hope looks horrified, like her world is turning to ash right before her, and maybe it is, maybe this is the end of everything for her, “That’s not - I care! This is how I care! I - I pay attention and try and do things for you!”

“I don’t want you to do things for me!” Noah counters, hands balling into angry fists at his sides.

“Why not?” Hope asks indignantly, head tilted back to meet Noah’s gaze directly, her chest puffed out in a show of confidence.

Noah flounders, his jaw snapping shut, visibly rolling with tension as he searches for a reason, exploding when he can’t find one, “I just don’t! I can do things myself, Hope, I don’t need you railroading me like you always do! I’m tired of it, it’s not worth it!” he accuses, his last words effectively severing any chance at reconciliation.

Hope slumps, her shoulders sagging and face drooping, every muscle in her body going lax, as if she’s melting from heartache. Noah exhales sharply, his own shoulders dropping, losing some of the tension keeping them upright as he drags a hand through his hair, playing with it to calm himself further.

Rosie keeps to the side, not sure of her place, not sure if she’s meant to intervene, and only watches Hope stand with her head turned to the ground, braids blocking her face from view as she remains frozen, unmoving, her feet stuck to the ground and her body tense. “I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, fractures of the typical strength in her voice, before she turns on her heel, dropping the dog’s leash and running away with tears in her eyes.

Noah deflates as she leaves, his hands balled up tight to steady himself, his face scrunched up in thought and frustration and likely a dozen other emotions as he struggles to process them. He slumps forward, his previous fight and irritation dissipating into the air, the dog still sitting at Rosie’s feet, tongue lolling and a whine echoing from him.

All the while, Rosie struggles for words, for a reaction, for something appropriate, but all she can think about is the way Hope collapsed before him, like the sight is imprinted on her mind. “Come on, mate,” she finally breaks the quiet, “You didn’t have to be that harsh,” she comments, deep creases in her own forehead and between her brows.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Noah mumbles, head down in shame as he stares at the ground, blank and empty save for the rise of his chest with each breath.

Rosie steps closer as the silence drags on, scooping up the abandoned leash and glancing over her shoulder and finding Hope long gone as she does. Her hand rises to his shoulder, gripping it loosely, “I know,” she shrugs weakly, squeezing the muscles beneath her palm. “Sorry about the dog,” she offers.

Noah laughs a little, but it’s splintered on the edges and lacking any real joy or amusement, “It’s fine. My mum’ll love him, I’m sure.”

Rosie nods sagely, retracting her hand carefully before gesturing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna, uh, go after her,” she mutters, turning on her heel and hurrying after Hope.

She finds her slumped against a wall half a block away, staring at nothing with tears streaming down her face as her lip quivers with barely restrained sobs. Rosie skids to a stop beside her, earning Hope’s attention momentarily, before she turns back to staring at nothing. She’s hollow, her gaze empty, barely there as she drifts through her mind and the storm that must be filling it like a hurricane. Rosie doesn’t say anything, only leans against the wall beside the destitute woman, eyes trained on the glimmers coating her cheeks, lit by street lamps around them.

“I just,” Hope finally begins after a long, painstakingly silent moment, “I don’t get it.” She sniffles, “I - I know we weren’t perfect, but I just… I thought we meant more than we must have.” Her voice falls apart on the last few words, cracking and splintering into a tiny, fragile whisper.

Rosie nods in understanding, pulling Hope into her arms without uttering a single word, holding her close and letting her fall apart once more, shaking under the weight of Rosie’s arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. Her hands fist in the fabric of Rosie’s shirt, an anchor to attach herself to as the hurricane blows and wrecks and destroys her insides.

Hope’s tired of letting go, of giving in or giving up, of letting her world dissolve in her hands because fighting’s too much of a risk, a hazard, a danger to her. She’s tired of ignoring the things that rub her the wrong way, that send a cold chill down her spine, that fill her skull with a swirling mass of dark and awful thoughts. She’s tired of all the hurt and the fighting, of the way her skin turns a sickly green every time someone gets too close, of the headaches and nausea that accompany one of his unbothered shrugs.

She’s tired of it, she’s done with it, she’s not going to fight anymore, not when he doesn’t fight for her. Not when Rosie is the one she’s been leaning on, not when Rosie is the one that’s been consoling her, not when Rosie is the one that’s been nice, and caring, and sweet, and gentle, and there.

Hope shifts, freeing her face from Rosie’s top as the tears come to a stop, but keeping her head resting against her shoulder. “Why couldn’t it have been like this?” she whispers into the air, a quiet pondering that’s directed more to herself than the woman wrapped around her.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums, pulling back to look down at Hope, finding her gaze distant as she stares into the space before her, eyes piercing into the street stretching before them. “What do you mean?” Rosie murmurs down to her, finally drawing dark eyes to her own.

They’re averted just as quickly, Hope pressing her cheek even further into Rosie’s shoulder, and Rosie swears she sees some colour rush to Hope’s face. “I dunno,” she mumbles, gaze trained on nothing in particular. “It’s just… easier. Comforting. You let me do this and you’re sweet about it.”

“Noah seems pretty sweet,” Rosie mumbles awkwardly, still unsure where the line is, how Hope feels about him, how she wants to feel about him and their relationship.

Her shoulders raise in a miniscule, half-hearted shrug, “Yeah, but he doesn’t really get it. He doesn’t get it when I’m upset or mad. He’s too calm,” her lips twist at the statement, displeased at the memories.

Rosie snorts, above her, Hope’s eyes darting upwards, “What, and I’m a raving madwoman, is that?” she grins, the tension of the moment falling away with ease.

Hope’s mouth curves at the edges as she slips from Rosie’s grasp just enough to slap her arm, a common reaction to the older woman’s antics, Rosie feigning pain and rubbing at the spot instantly. “No!” Hope chides, “But you get it,” she settles back against Rosie, “Or at least you get what to do. Noah would try and fix it or tell me to ignore it or whatever, but you just let me be.”

Rosie shrugs, some heat rising to her cheeks as she glances towards the empty street beside them, fumbling for a response. She defaults to finding somewhere that will bring Hope some sort of solace, “Okay, let’s get you home,” she sighs, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck to the best of her ability.

Hope removes herself from Rosie’s hold entirely this time, stepping back and folding her arms while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks with a twist of her lips, looking to Rosie from beneath her lashes.

“Sure,” Rosie grins, slinging her arm over Hope’s shoulders to guide her through the streets to her car, Hope leaning into her with ease as they trade some small conversation.

---

A day later and there’s a knock on Rosie’s door from across the flat, a short, sharp knock. She sighs, grabbing a dish towel and dusting off her hands before exiting the kitchen and the mess of ingredients within it. Another knock sounds on the wood, impatient as it continues on and on, Rosie hurrying to reach the door.

She jerks it open to find Hope on the other side of the threshold, beaming with her fist still poised in the air and a bottle of wine in her other hand. “Hi!” she greets, stepping past Rosie into the flat and scanning the open area curiously.

“Hey?” Rosie tries, shutting the door behind Hope and leaning against it, arms crossed and towel in hand. “Should I have been expecting you?” she asks, cycling through her day in her mind to double-check.

“Nope!” Hope turns, still grinning, “But I brought wine!” she offers the bottle proudly, swinging it for emphasis.

Rosie nods, one brow raised, “I can see that.”

Hope’s smile dims, slowly falling away as Rosie doesn’t say anything more, evidently a sign of annoyance. “Sorry,” she bows her head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do tonight,” she confesses, her words rushing in a hurry to explain herself.

Rosie pushes herself upright from the door, stepping away from the threshold and closer to Hope, “I take it you usually spend evenings with Noah?”

Hope only nods in response, head still down in embarrassment and resignation. Her arms are slack at her side, the wine bottle dangling loosely in her grasp as she awaits Rosie’s harsh words telling her to leave and not come back.

“Well, I’m making dinner right now and I always make too much,” Rosie states, no edge in her voice, no malice in her words, “Take your shoes off and it’ll be done in about a half hour.” Rosie turns, striding back into the kitchen and leaving Hope to collect herself.

She joins Rosie a few minutes later in her socks, her smile repaired as she drops into a barstool across from Rosie, placing the wine bottle on the counter, a glimmer in her eyes as she presents it, pushing it across the counter. Rosie laughs in response, nicking it and pulling out wine glasses. She pours a drink for each of them, Hope draining hers rather quickly as she talks about her day, Rosie stealing a few sips as she cooks.

Rosie presents the finished dinner with a flourish to Hope, earning a laugh as she takes the plate. Rosie rounds the kitchen, dropping into the stool beside Hope and taking a swig of her wine. “So what’d you do today?” Hope prompts curiously, cutting into the chicken Rosie made and taking a bite.

“Usual stuff. Trained today, the new player’s are adjusting pretty well, and then ran a few errands. Usual stuff,” she shrugs, taking a bite of asparagus.

“That’s fun,” Hope hums encouragingly, smiling wide when Rosie glances to her. She nearly chokes on her food at the sight, coughing and laughing at the same time as Hope watches in confusion and concern, “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she turns in her seat to face Rosie directly, hands hovering, unsure of where to land.

Rosie waves her off, still working to catch her breath and stop laughing, something made infinitely more difficult by Hope hitting her on the back to presumably help her dislodge something. “I’m fine!” she croaks, working to suck in deep breaths.

“Are you sure? What happened?” Hope asks again, hand on the back of Rosie’s seat, just in case.

Rosie chuckles briefly before pressing her lips together, forcing neutrality that barely holds together, “You were just very serious in your excitement over groceries.” She bites her tongue to keep from laughing again.

“Is that really it?” Rosie nods to confirm, suppressing more giggles. Hope’s eyes roll, a groan escaping from her throat, “You’re the worst.”

Now Rosie can barely hold it back, dissolving into giggles as Hope scowls, picking at her meal as Rosie struggles to find air. “Says the one eating my food,” she grins when she finally catches her breath.

“What’s that mean?” Hope turns with a glare.

Rosie draws herself taller, even sitting down she’s got some height on Hope, “It means you showed up at my door unannounced and stole all my hard work,” she accuses coolly.

“I brought you wine!” Hope frowns, gesturing to the bottle in her defence.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips, “Who’s the one drinking it all?”

That shuts Hope up, Rosie earning a scowl as they turn back to their dinners, Hope staying quiet until Rosie brings up her job. Then she’s beaming and telling every detail of her workplace she can think of, every coworker that’s weird or mean or nice or funny, every aspect of career that she loves.

The conversation flows alongside the wine, until the bottle’s empty and the pair’s slouched on the sofa, facing each other on opposite ends. Hope fumbles for her phone, pulling it out and wincing at the time, “I need to go home.” She turns, standing up what must be too quickly because she drops back to the cushions.

Rosie shifts forward too, folding her legs before her, “Did you drive here?”

Braids jangle as Hope nods, her eyes falling shut as she slowly leans back into the cushions again. Rosie sighs, finding it much easier to stand than Hope, and grabs a blanket, draping it across her lap, “Just stay here.

Hope’s eyes squint open, looking up at Rosie with dilated pupils, “You sure?” she mumbles, her words slurring together from the alcohol that had coated her tongue.

“Yeah, you’re not getting in a wreck on my watch,” Rosie hums, collecting their glasses and the empty bottle before striding into the kitchen. She puts the glasses in the sink and the bottle on the counter beside it to deal with tomorrow, then retraces her steps to the living room.

Hope’s curled up on the sofa already, the blanket tucked under her chin, and Rosie smiles at the sight and absurdity of a drunk Hope asleep in her flat. She shakes her head, turning to her bedroom and stalking inside, collapsing on the bed as soon as she can, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

---

Hope continues coming to Rosie’s flat a few times a week, sometimes with an offering of wine or takeaway in hand, sometimes with nothing more than herself. They watch movies and talk and laugh about stupid things from the Villa or stories from their lives until their tired from long days or it’s three in the morning and they still don’t stop talking.

Sometimes Hope sits in an armchair and responds to emails while Rosie paces the length of the flat with her phone pressed to her ear, talking down one of her players or fighting with managers. Sometimes there’s not a single word spoken between them, sometimes all they do is talk, sometimes Rosie makes dinner, sometimes it’s late enough that they’ve both already eaten, sometimes Hope shows up after Rosie has already gone to bed, sometimes Hope even beats her home in the afternoon.

There’s no pattern to any of it, there’s no rhythm, nothing concrete to Hope’s appearances, but Rosie soon finds that she doesn’t even mind. It’s actually kind of nice, to have someone around without any expectations. It’s kind of nice that Hope brings her soup when she gets a cold, or how Hope somehow always has wine on hand for when they need it, or how Hope tidies the flat when she’s especially busy.

It’s a casual night tonight, popcorn and drinks sitting on the coffee table as a movie plays across from them in the dark. Rosie picked tonight, a drama about a hockey team one of her players always recommends, since she couldn’t think of anything else but was not definitely not watching another of Hope’s romcoms twice in a row. They’d been snacking all night, splitting a pizza in the evening as Hope worked on some project and Rosie scrolled her phone, a silence seeping into the flat.

Rosie watches the film in a similar silence now, watches the flickering of light as it reflects and refracts off every available surface in the room. A contented sigh vibrates in her throat as she settles further into the sofa, pulling the blanket she’s enthralled within tighter. She sinks into the cushions, shifting her legs and letting her knees brush against Hope’s thighs.

Speaking of, she can see the other woman watching her in the dark, eyes trained on Rosie’s features, inspecting them carefully as blues and yellows and reds and dozens of other hues play in her dark irises, glinting off and mixing with them. Rosie glances over, finding a crease between Hope’s brows as she stares at something below Rosie’s eyes that she can’t quite place. She smiles softly in the dim lighting, teasingly, “What?” she asks, “Something on my face?”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to ask the second question, because suddenly there is absolutely something on her face, something that she doesn’t think should be there and was not at all anticipating, but honestly doesn’t entirely mind. Hope’s lips are on hers, soft and nice and there.

Hope’s kissing her. Hope’s kissing her, and it’s tentative and cautious and careful, like Hope’s gaze was a moment ago, and it all makes sense in an instant. She blinks, stunned and shocked, until her lashes flutter shut and she’s kissing Hope back. She melts into her, a hand rising to cup Hope’s cheek and draw her closer, a hand fisting in the front of her shirt to close the space between them.

When they finally break for air, a sigh slips past Hope’s lips as their lips separate, still brushing against each other, their breath mingling in the small gap. “Um, what…?” Rosie whispers against the lips on hers, unable to find a conclusion to the question.

“I - I don’t know,” Hope whispers, just as quiet, “Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back.

Rosie watches her go, hurt welling inside her gut at the regret evident on Hope’s face, “Why?”

Hope shakes her head, like she’s frustrated with something, though Rosie doesn’t know what. “Didn’t ask,” is all she says, leaning away and turning back to the film still playing.

Rosie’s following her retreat without even realising, chasing after Hope unconsciously. “Didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Hope’s eyes snap to her, wide with clear surprise at the admission.

“I mean, maybe a little warning next time, but…” Rosie shrugs, unbothered.

Dark eyes glimmer, lit by the films rainbow of lighting, “Next time?”

“If you want.”

Hope shifts, facing Rosie head on, “Do you want a next time?” she asks carefully, emphasising the importance of the question with wide eyes.

A smirk lifts the corner of Rosie’s mouth, “First time was pretty good, so yeah.”

“Only ‘pretty good’?” Hope teases, leaning closer again, close enough for Rosie to see faint specks sparkling in her irises.

“Yep,” Rosie nods, resolute as her face solidifies into sharp stone. “Not about to stroke your ego.”

Hope groans, “You’re the worst.”

“Says the one that kissed me first,” Rosie teases right back, her smirk only growing at Hope’s annoyance, however played up it may be.

“Shut up,” Hope whines.

“No thanks,” Rosie grins, ready to start a spiel about everything she’s learned annoys Hope in the past few months, everything that earns a groan or a sigh or an eye roll, everything that makes her glare or scowl or slap Rosie’s arm even though it doesn’t hurt. “I think I’m -”

Hope’s kissing her again, only this time it’s deeper, filled with fire as Hope’s hands slip around to cup the back of her head, pulling Rosie ever closer and holding her there. Rosie’s own hands slide along Hope’s body, landing on her thighs and tugging her forward on the cushions, until their bodies are pressed together, with lips locked together. A groan slips from Hope’s throat, Rosie humming at the noise and sending her hands exploring in search of more sounds, palms grazing Hope’s exposed navel, muscles twitching beneath skin.

Hope splits them apart, her forehead pressing against Rosie’s gently, her panting breaths sending a shiver down Rosie’s spine. “What are we now?” her words only amplifying the effect.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Rosie answers easily, the question seeming unnecessary, “You’re kinda taking the reins here.”

Hope pauses, her hands clasped behind Rosie’s neck and thumbs brushing her skin idly. “Are we already dating?” she asks after a long moment.

“What do you mean?”

“We do a lot of coupley stuff,” Hope shrugs a bit, her lips twisting in contemplation, “We hang out all the time and I stay over and you make dinner and we watch movies,” she lists off.

Rosie pulls away, putting enough space between them to take in all of Hope, “Do you wanna carry on like this?”

Hope blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that question, “Yeah,” she answers, a little indignantly.

“Okay,” Rosie nods along, “Do you wanna call it dating?”

Hope stalls, eyes falling away as she considers, her voice coming out smaller than before when it finally does, “...Yeah.”

“Then we’re dating,” Rosie smiles sweetly at her, Hope’s expression softening at the sight.

Until it sharpens quickly, determination building in her eyes, “We have to go on a date,” she states evenly, matter-of-factly.

“Does that make it official?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs, falling back against the arm of the sofa casually, a wicked grin splitting her lips, “But you’re taking me out,” she warns.

Hope’s brow furrows at the declaration, the surety of it, “What? Why?”

“You started this, now it’s your problem,” Rosie smirks as Hope frowns, her eyes narrowing into a glare in the dark of the flat.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Says the one taking me on a date,” Rosie wiggles in her spot, falling back further and slipping her feet into Hope’s lap, Hope harrumphing and shoving them off with a scowl, much to Rosie’s amusement.

---

Hope drags Rosie out to a cafe in the morning, grinning the entire time she avoids telling Rosie where they’re even going, laughing at all of Rosie’s off-base guesses and humming ‘warmer’ when she gets something right.

She holds Rosie’s hand the entire time, occasionally swinging their interlocked digits between them or fiddling with Rosie’s fingers, as if they’re the most fascinating thing Hope can conceive of. And maybe they are. Maybe the way their hands fit together is strange, maybe the way they’re so close in size is odd, maybe the way Rosie squeezes her hand or traces circles along her knuckles idly is puzzling.

She pulls Rosie to a stop at the mouth of an alley, earning a confused expression in turn as Rosie looks around, “What are we doing here?” she spins in a slow circle, taking in the desolate street around them, a backroad with a small boutique, a pawn shop, and an auto body place. “Are you going to mug me?” she asks with twisted lips when she faces Hope again.

A laugh bubbles out of Hope and she swats at Rosie’s arm, a pleased smile curving Rosie’s mouth. “No!” Hope chastises, before pausing, her jaw clamping shut. “Close your eyes,” she demands a beat later.

“Okay, you’re definitely mugging me.”

“Just do it,” Hope whines. “Please?” she smiles, sweet as candy, Rosie immediately giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Perfect,” Hope squeezes Rosie’s hand tight, gently tugging her further into the alley.

“This is a very elaborate ruse to mug me, you know,” Rosie comments, eyes still squeezed shut, a hand on her lower back leading her.

Hope huffs exasperatedly, “Would you stop it?”

“Just saying. You already know where I live and when I have work, you don’t have to mug me.”

“Stop it or I really am gonna mug you.”

Rosie grins victoriously, reveling in the way she doesn’t even have to see Hope’s face to know how irritated she is, that she can tell from voice alone, “Knew it.”

“Shut. Up,” Hope’s teeth are gritted as she glares at Rosie with her dopey smile and closed eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Rosie concedes, “Just leave my money alone.”

“Just your money?”

Rosie faces Hope regardless of sight, “What’s that meant to mean? You want my phone, too?”

“Just checking if you’re available then,” Hope teases playfully, still gently leading.

Rosie pauses to consider, “Depends,” she finally lands on.

“On what?” Hope challenges.

“What you want out of me,” Rosie answers carefully, “I’m not mugging people with you.”

Hope barely suppresses an eye roll, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you really care,” Rosie coos, her hands clasping above her heart dramatically.

“I care about your money.”

Another victorious smile, “Knew it. Golddigger.”

“Arsehole.”

“Says the mugger.”

A sigh’s Rosie’s only response as they come to a stop somewhere, Hope’s arms draping around Rosie’s shoulders and her lips pecking Rosie’s. Her hands instinctively land on Hope’s hips, “Okay, open your eyes,” Hope hums.

Rosie obliges, blinking a few times to adjust to the sunlight, smiling down at Hope as her vision clears. “This it? Lotta theatrics. Coulda just stayed in for this view,” she teases.

Hope shakes her head exasperatedly, but it’s not enough to hide the smile on her lips, “Look around.”

She does, lifting her head away from Hope and finding them on a busier street the alley emptied onto. There’s a little café right in front of her, somewhat secluded from the rest of the street, with fogged windows and blurs of colour inside. No one’s moving in or out of the building, and it’s small enough that only a few patrons could possibly be inside.

Rosie’s eyes fall back to Hope and her smile, “What is this place?” she asks softly, bewonderment lessening the edge of her tongue at the quiet little escape she’s been led to.

“My favourite café. It’s really small and has the same regulars and everyone’s super nice and wonderful.” Hope bites her lip, as if she’s hesitating or nervous about something, “I found it after the show, when there was so much attention everywhere I went, and no one even knew me, so I started coming all the time.”

Rosie nods along, staring into Hope’s eyes intently to ground her, to show she understands. And she really does. She understands how hard it was with the editing and the pressure of the show. She understands how bad the backlash online was at times, when people would shit on them for anything. She understands how necessary it was to find a place to withdraw, to have people that didn’t care and just let her continue on with her job.

“Well, let’s go,” Hope’s arms retract from around Rosie’s shoulders, hands sliding down to grip Rosie’s and pull her along to the café. She swings the door open with a grin, a bell ringing above their heads. Not a single patron glances their way, most typing away at laptops or scrolling their phones as they sip drinks and slowly pick at food.

Only an employee takes notice, waving at Hope with a welcoming smile as he wipes down a countertop. She gently leads Rosie to the till, immediately falling into a conversation with the man as Rosie scans the menu and the shop. There’s booths on one wall, most empty, small tables filling the front, and a mural of different climates and natural environments on the wall opposite the booths.

“What do you want?” Hope asks, turning to Rosie as the employee stands waiting, his hands on his hips and a slight smile curling his mouth.

She smiles back before glancing at the menu and the dozens of items written across it. “Um,” her eyes scan over drink after drink, the letters whirring together. “Iced vanilla latte for now?” she tries, meeting the employees eyes.

“Ooh, me too!” Hope chimes, squeezing Rosie’s hand excitedly.

The employee - Chris, on his name tag - smiles even brighter, “Coming right up.”

Hope tugs Rosie away before Chris has even turned all the way around, pulling her along to a booth and collapsing into one side. Rosie follows, settling across from her, their hands still loosely linked together on the table, Hope’s thumb tracing the lines of Rosie’s palm.

Something sparks in the back of Rosie’s mind at the contact, in the pit of her stomach, in the thump of her heart, and she can’t quite place it, but she knows she likes it. She knows she likes this moment, too, the way Hope looks so at ease and relaxed, the way Hope brought her to her hidden spot, the way Hope tried to make breakfast before opting for the café. She likes the way this is going, they way they work together, even from before they realised there was something more to them than platonic movie nights. She likes how casual it was, how easy it came about, how relaxed she is as long as Hope’s there.

And she likes the way they just fit. They fit like one another’s other half, their perfect match, the missing pieces in the puzzles that construct their lives. And she can see herself sacrificing things for the woman sitting across from her, can see herself working for this relationship and all its inevitable flaws, can see herself in this moment forever, without a doubt in her mind. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

But she can see Hope’s smile, can envision countless Sunday mornings spent at this little café, can rationalise the way her heart flutters at every laugh. This makes perfect sense, every detail and every second is reasonable and real and means so much more than Rosie ever thought they’d mean.

#litg fanfic #litg hope #litg noah #hdn #hopefully this shuts the gremlin up #that bastard #but deadass that anons a genius #id also like to make it very clear that i have no problem with noah he seems chill its just hard to write a breakup without making someone #seem like the bad guy #yknow?

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curedeity · 3 years ago

Text

Fox's Future

Summary: Zeo liked helping out at the gym. He may not be the best, but others could be. (Look, me trying to give the Dungeon kids character again!)

Dungeon Gym was always pretty small. It could fit thirty kids max, and the stadiums in it were tiny ones used mostly for practice and the refinement of techniques, not actual battles. They had punching bags to launch at, and weights to build up strength, but really, nothing that incredible. It was lucky that there were a few beyparks nearby, so that the students could go have actual battles there after some training.

Despite all its downsides, the gym continued to grow, and every member of it was just as determined and hardworking as the day they’d started.

“Nice job Kim! You should try making your turns a bit sharper, then you’ll really be able to take your opponents by surprise, you already have really good control of your bey,” Zeo praised the girl across from him as they called for their beys to return.

“Thanks Zeo, I’ll try that out,” Kim acknowledged, and he could see that she was already deep in thought. Well, looks like that conversation was over. Zeo laughed to himself a bit as he looked over the gym.

Toby was battling against Theodore in the ring next to him, laughing at the frustration on Theo’s face as he tried to hit Toby’s bey. The newest member of their gym was having a few problems though, Vera couldn’t seem to get her stance right to draw out the most of her launching power.

Zeo wandered over and tried to place exactly what was off with the way she was standing. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she grumbled to him as she launched again.

“I think it might be your foot position, you’re a bit off balance because you're trying to go for a complicated pose,” Zeo mused. “Just stand naturally, you aren’t trying to do anything fancy, point your toes forward and make sure to center yourself.”

Vera shifted her feet and launched again, the thwack of her bey hitting the bag audible to almost everyone in the gym. “Fuck yeah,” she grinned.

Zeo laughed and offered her a fistbump which she returned before going back to her drills.

“Hey Zeo! Can you come help me? I’m having some problems getting my bey to be as responsive as I want!” George called to him.

“I’ll be there in a second!” Zeo responded, watching Vera for another few launches to make sure she didn’t revert to old habits, before he wandered off to help George.

Zeo spent almost every day at Dungeon Gym, with the exception of Sunday, which was reserved for chores and then doing a non-bey related activity. Masamune and King were both surprisingly bad at doing things not related to beyblade, but Toby always seemed to have a plan for what they could do as a team.

He had transferred to doing online school at some point when Toby had been hospitalized, and it was really useful now for fitting into his hectic schedule at the gym. In his free moments, he could complete an assignment while his arms rested, then go back to training.

Zeo was pretty sure he’d spent more time at the gym in the past year than he had at the apartment he shared with the rest of Team Dungeon. He had just bullied Masamune and King for being a bit too obsessed with beys, but really he couldn’t be one to criticize.

Dungeon Gym closed at sunset each day. All of the students were children still, and Coach Steel refused to have them walk home in the dark. So once the sun began to set, everyone would be shooed out of the gym.

Well, everyone except Zeo today it seemed.

“Zeo, can you stay behind a minute so I can talk with you? I’ll give you a ride home so you don’t have to walk in the dark,” Coach Steel called to him as he helped everyone else pack up.

Zeo put down his bag that he had just picked up, giving the quick response of, “sure Coach!” Toby gave him a glance of confusion, visibly asking if Zeo knew what was going on, and Zeo could only shrug.

“Alright then, I’ll tell Masamune and King you’ll be home late today,” Toby waved to him as he left.

“Have fun listening to them babble about their latest battle!” Zeo called back, bursting out into laughter as Toby’s wave turned into a middle finger.

God, Zeo didn’t know what he did to deserve such amazing friends like Toby, Masamune and King in his life. They may be a bit insane sometimes, but every moment with them was filled with so much vibrancy. He wasn’t the best person, he was jealous and bad at communicating and made stupid choices sometimes, but these three had stuck by through everything.

He couldn’t have asked for a better team.

“So then Zeo,” Coach Steel wandered over to him and Zeo snapped himself out of his daily session of mentally praising his friends.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been a big help at the gym recently,” the Coach praised him, and Zeo felt his face flush. He hadn’t been doing that much, Coach Steel was really busy with making sure the equipment was all ready and coming up with new drills and fixing their beys. It really wasn’t anything. “You got a knack for it kid.”

“Uhhh, thanks,” Zeo responded sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Should he express more thankfulness because Coach had praised him so much? No, at this point there had already been a pause and that would be weird.

“Kid, I mean, you have a knack for teaching,” Coach Steel seemed to be floundering for words, but Zeo didn’t know how to carry on the conversation any better than he did. “You’ve been helping out everyone at the gym, and all the advice you’ve been giving has been bang on. Zeo, what I’m saying is you're making a good coach.”

Zeo felt his eyes widen. “I’m sorry!” He blurted out.

“Whatcha sorry for kid?” Coach Steel shook his head at Zeo.

“Well, you're the coach, not me, so I’m sorry if I was like… intruding in your area,” Zeo mumbled, wringing his hands anxiously.

“Zeo, I’m not angry about that, you’re great at it. I’m proud of you kid,” Coach Steel laughed, and reached over to ruffle Zeo’s hair. Like it wasn’t already messy enough. “You end high school in a few months, right?”

“Yeah, this is my last semester,” Zeo nodded. It had taken him a while to get back on track, he had fallen behind while a part of HD Academy, but Toby and him had taken summer school programs every year to earn back some of their missing credits.

“Well, when you’re done, I was wondering if you wanted to be taken on as my apprentice. I should already be paying you for all you’re doing for this gym, I already got a paycheck waiting for you to make up for some of that time.”

Zeo stared at the Coach for several long seconds. Coach was asking him, Zeo, to be his apprentice. That would mean being a coach, but not only that. If Zeo became his apprentice, then would that also mean he was also-

“You want me to be the next Dungeon Gym Coach!” Zeo nearly screamed this out as his brain shut down.

“Yeah, you’re the perfect fit for it Zeo. I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but you seem to already be loving coaching. Dungeon Gym is practically yours already.” Coach Steel smiled at him gently.

Zeo-

Zeo was the worst blader out of all of Team Dungeon. They all knew that, even if they were too nice to say it, Zeo had always lagged behind. Masamune and King were constantly challenging each other, and Toby seemed to always have a new move hidden up his sleeve even after Zeo thought he’d seen all of his tricks.

No, no negative talk allowed. His team loved him, his team appreciated him.

Zeo wasn’t the best blader, but he loved it all the same. And what’s more, he loved passing on that joy to others. He had never thought much about teaching before now, but for the past year he had loved helping out everyone at Dungeon Gym.

There was just something satisfying about seeing someone smile when they managed to apply a piece of advice he had given to them. And Zeo had rarely felt more pride than when someone he had just helped managed to push him to the edge, to nearly losing (and sometimes to an actual loss).

“I don’t know what to say Coach,” Zeo whispered.

“You don’t gotta make a decision now, or even soon if you don’t want to, kid. I do want to pay you for all the help you’ve been doing though, you deserve it, but other than that I’m not gonna pressure you into anything,” Coach nodded.

There was silence for a few seconds before Coach Steel walked away to pick up the keys to his car, and presumably drive Zeo home.

“Coach?”

“Yeah Zeo?” Coach turned back to face him. When people envisioned patience, it was someone silently waiting. Coach wasn’t like that, but he would wait for years if that’s how long it took someone to find the answer, he would just prod them the entire way.

Zeo couldn’t deny that Coach’s approach was probably the only reason he finally admitted some things to himself and came to some conclusions.

“Do you really think I’d make a good coach?” Zeo respected his Coach’s opinion. Even when he complained about the grueling training, he knew that Coach Steel was always fair, and that he knew what he was doing.

“I think you already are,” Coach smiled at him, and Zeo beamed back. “I also don’t think it matters what I think, when you clearly enjoy it so much.”

“Thanks Coach.”

“You’re gonna be great kid.”

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

Zeo heard his roommates yell out greetings as he wandered into the apartment. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He stumbled out into the living room and fell face first into the couch.

“Yo, Zeo, you alright man?” Masamune asked. Had he been in the room when Zeo entered or come over to check on him?

“Did something happen while meeting with Coach?” King asked.

Zeo mumbled a few words into the cushions before pushing himself up enough to get out the sentence, “he offered to make me his apprentice and the next coach of Dungeon Gym.”

And as Zeo screamed into the cushions, he heard the rest of his team devolve into chaos.

#beyblade #beyblade metal fight #beyblade metal fusion #fanfiction #fanfic #fox's future #zeo abyss #team dungeon #swearing #just a zeo-centric fic #because team dungeon deserved more time

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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remember when devin grayson wrote about green arrow flirting with teenager dick grayson and then bruce and dick have an incestuous relationship............................

Listen, I have no idea what this ask says, I just see a string of random letters followed by dot dot dot.

In completely unrelated matters, the only dynamic between Dick and Ollie I abide by is one where the nicest thing Dick’s ever said to Ollie is something like “hey why does your face look like you killed a squirrel and glued it to your chin, is that what you were going for or do people just not like you and so nobody ever told you til now that that’s what it looks like.”

And even there, that’s still just the best Dick could manage (or was willing to even aim for) after Bruce gave Dick a totally and one hundred percent genuine and sincere Talking To about how he needed to be more polite to Ollie. Cuz the way I envision it, all that’s after Dick initially opened with something like, idk, “hey wanna hear a funny joke, it goes “what do you call a known Errol Flynn fanboy who thinks putting on a domino mask when he fights crime with a bow and arrow like, magically makes his goatee invisible? A dumbass who doesn’t get how secret identities work, that’s what. Get it, its you, you’re the joke.”

LOL for the record, I don’t actually hate Ollie and have no really strong opinions on him one way or another, it usually just depends on how he’s being written in whatever story or issue I’m reading with him. Its just canon that Ollie is like, one of the few people that Dick just openly can not stand, pretty much, with this stretching back far enough that personally, I like to headcanon it goes all the way back to even before Ollie took Roy in and has absolutely nothing to do with Roy whatsoever.

Idk, its just really fucking funny to me to picture that like, for whatever reason, ten year old Dick Grayson decided upon meeting the Justice League that they were all awesome except for Oliver Queen. Dick doesn’t know why, he doesn’t care why, he just knows that like, “I do not care for that Oliver Queen guy, not one bit, and no, I am not open to constructive criticism on this matter, UGH BRUCE STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND BE NICER TO HIM, I SAID HE WAS A BUTTFACE AND I MEANT IT, WHERE’S THE CONFUSION.”

Because see, while Ollie is not Actually The Worst, he IS one of the League heroes who is prideful and petty enough to like, absolutely take offense to someone hating his guts for no discernible reason, while considering this more than reason enough to hate their guts right back. Even if that particular someone happens to have both miles and years left to go before they hit either puberty or the top side of five feet tall, and thus in the meanwhile, Ollie must literally lower himself in every sense of the word in order to return fire at his pint-sized and prepubescent critic.

Like, if Dick for whatever reason decided he just doesn’t like Superman or the Flash and he’s not gonna and you can’t make him, then I mean, Clark or Barry or someone else along those lines would just be like, oh, okay, that’s fair I guess. No, its totally fine Bruce, the adorable little human incarnation of glitter, cotton candy and all things Cute and Precious and Wee that you just took in is allowed to hate me if he wants to, its absolutely *wheezing sob* not a big deal. I’m a big boy, I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf with him. Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in my room for the next 84 years, trying to figure out if I was some kind of monstrous puppy-kicker in a previous lifetime and that’s why my fate here in this one is to be despised by a ten year old with the superpower of Absolute Preciousness. Its my punishment, clearly, for being just the worst kind of monster to ever exist, the only kind that could actually be hated by someone like your adorable little Fun-Sized sidekick of joy and sunshine and l-l-laughter......no, don’t look at me, I’m hideous! *bursts into tears and scurries away to hide from the light*

But see now, Ollie, on the other hand, like.....he’s not a monster but he’s not about to let even some paragon of preciousness go around painting him as one. Why the fuck does he spend so much money on publicists if he’s just gonna roll over belly-side up the first time one of the people bad-mouthing him just happens to be like, a toddler instead of the usual TMZ?

So Ollie’s not about to admit that he’s actually miffed and even a little bit wounded that this cherub who seems to like even most supervillains more than he likes Ollie, just like, can not seem to be in his presence longer than sixty seconds before drawing his weapons and stabbing Ollie with words that hurt, dammit, because he has feelings too, y’know, he spent a lot of money on pricey therapists figuring out that yes, those are feelings he’s feeling and he can even name some of them.....

Like, he’s not quite on board with actually ACKNOWLEDGING that hey this stings, and that he really just wants to know what the hell this kid’s deal is and why don’t you like me, tiny human, what did I ever even do to you??? But all of that is like......Advanced Level Therapy stuff that he hasn’t quite gotten around to finishing yet at this point in time. Like yeah he’s already dropped a mint on the A-list of the head-shrinking world by now, but apparently he was supposed to keep coming back or something like that, they all keep making a really big deal about that for some reason, and look, he’s been busy. So he really just hasn’t had the time to finish up the course on How To Make Peace With the Fact That Sometimes Tiny Humans Don’t Like Me Even Though I’m A Fucking Delight, Dammit.

But even if the why of this kid getting under his skin so much eludes him for the nonce, Ollie is perfectly clear on one thing: he doesn’t typically go around making enemies of the twelve and under set, but if you prick him, he doth in fact bleed, you little prick. So if this knee-high nightmare is gonna keep coming at me and trying to start shit, then I am more than willing to throw down, is basically Ollie’s take here.

“He wants to dance? Then c’mon, let’s do this thing. We can dance if he wants to. I’ve got the time,” Ollie says to himself and any other nearby Justice Leaguer who might be looking at him with that swiftly-becoming-familiar expression of mingled judgment, pity, exasperation and something a bit more ambiguous but which probably lands somewhere in the ballpark of “We honestly don’t know what to make of all of this but we’re all a little concerned This Is Not A Good Look, Bro. And also, we would like to formally request by way of this petition with all 200+ signatures of Leaguers and auxiliary members and support staff: please don’t escalate this into something where Batman might actually kill you, because that’s definitely not gonna make any of this less awkward for the rest of us, and uh....not to be indelicate here, but all those times we’ve all said things like no Ollie, we don’t think Bruce is a better fighter than you and we absolutely agree with you, you could totally maybe take him in a fair fight if you had your bow and arrows on you and he had the flu probably.....like. Umm. How to put this....Okay, soooooo....here’s the thing. There may, perhaps, ever so slightly be a possibility slash definite hardcore certainty that there were fib-like qualities to those conversations. A little bit. Oh hey, look at the time, we gotta run, there’s a fire somewhere, hopefully. Lol wait whoops did we say hopefully, that’s so weird like where did that even come from. We definitely meant to say probably. There’s a fire somewhere, probably."

But look, at the end of the day, the thing is, Headcanon Ollie is not like, proud of any of this, but he’s not unproud of it either. He is hashtag justified and he wouold appreciate some validation of that Ugly Truth, even if it might go against the grain and not ever exactly be a POPULAR opinion with the “please don’t tell the ten year old that nuh uh, his face looks like a hairy butthole, nobody wins there, that is not the victory you are looking for” crowd.

Honestly though, at this point Ollie’s list of Big Asks is quite small. Miniscule, even. All he wants, all he really really wants, is for someone, anyone, to join him in grasping the one essential corn kernel at the heart of this whole clusterfuck. The thing that nobody but Ollie seems to get and that Ollie’s pretty sure would be enough to allow him to die happily, if he could just manage to find one other person to sign on to the one single extremely obvious observation he keeps trying to point out to everyone, with a whole lot of nada to show for it:

Because see, the one thing about all of this that drives Ollie just absolutely up a wall, is that for some reason he can’t seem to get anyone to understand that like.....this whoooooole ridiculous mess, just like, even in terms of its very existence in the first place?

None of it is Ollie’s fault.

Dick started it!

Mere moments after frustratedly trying to convey this to Dinah for the umpteenth million bajillionth time:

“Okay, could you at least say something?” Ollie asked exasperatedly. “Anything? Seriously, I would take you counting to ten in Cantonese as an acceptable response at this point.”

“I’m just trying to decide which concerns me more,” Dinah said at last. Several epochs and the equivalent of the entire Jurassic Period later. But whatever, its not like Ollie was holding his breath at this point or anything. “The fact that you are genuinely trying to find and occupy the moral high ground in your feud with....a ten year old. Or that you actually think you’ve found it. That this is it, this is what that looks like. ‘The ten year old started it.’”

That was apparently all Dinah had to say. She fell silent again, and said silence lingered through a recreation of now the entire Cretaceous Period, before continuing into a revival of the whole Paleozoic Era from start to torturous finish.

“Well?” Ollie said with a patience that belied the urgency of the many pressing matters he had to attend to. Like the vanquishing of a ten year old archnemesis most foul.

Dinah just continued to frown pensively.

“Hang on, I’m still deciding.”

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miyu-hyperfixates · 4 years ago

Text

Water Ghouls AU!

[Part 3: The Four River Beasts (or WWX’s naming sense, take two)]

(part 1) (part 2)

Because WWX ends up having (accidentally) this big army of water ghouls, he decides to gift the members of his family their own personal water ghoul. And like any good pets, those water ghouls obviously needed good names (he wasn’t going to let Jiang Cheng name anything ever).

Xuánwǔ (漩武 - “whirlpool” “warrior”)

Qīnglóng ( 清龙 - “pure/quiet” “dragon”)

Zhūquè (潴雀 - “pond” “sparrow”)

Báihǔ (白浒 - “blank/empty“ “edge of the water/shore”)

They are of course based on the four symbols/mythological beasts (Xuánwǔ the Black Turtle, Qīnglóng the Azure Dragon, Zhūquè the Vermilion Bird, Báihǔ the White Tiger) and the names are pronounced exactly the same way. WWX of course thought that it was hilarious so when he told them the name of their pets JC just sort of went “You named your pets water ghouls after the four symbols?! Really? Don’t you have any respect?”

“No, no, it’s not actually the same, look the names are written this way!”

And so he shows the characters he used and they all went “...”

“See? They are not the Four Mythological Beasts, but more like the Four Jiang Mythological Beasts ( 四江神兽 )!!!”

“WEI WUXIAN!!!!”

[AN: Okay so I was 100% only going to use “Water” because I really liked the sound of ‘Sì shuǐ shén shòu’ and like a dumbass I didn’t thought of the very obvious “River”... Just a small reminder that Jiang ( 江 ) means “River”, I have no idea if the joke really works in Chinese or not, but it was way too tempting not to use it.]

In the end, Madam Yu made him change it to Four Water Mythological Beast on the official paper because there was absolutely no way they would go with such a name, it was already bad enough that Wei Wuxian business sounded like “sinking ships” ! But for some reasons the name Four Jiang Mythological Beasts spread around Yunmeng and everyone call them that, regardless of the official name.(And by the time the Sunshot Campaign rolls around, the whole cultivation heard about how the Jiang had four Mythological Beasts and the name sticks.)

As for who gets which pets Water Ghouls:

Whirlpool Warrior/Xuanwu is a Water Ghoul that was trained to attack/defend against threats. It got created with a tremendous amount of spiritual energy and so it possesses a special technique that is akin to what a Waterborne Abyss can do... It creates a whirlpool to sunk in any enemies (thus its name). And well obviously, it would belong to Madam Yu. I mean can you just imagine Madam Yu standing right in the middle of a whirlpool and bringing her full stormy wrath on whoever/whatever dared to piss her off? (At some point Xuanwu figures out how to send whirlpool to the shore, and so Madam Yu starts to bring it with her when she is night-hunting near a body of water... Because whirlpool+Zidian is one of the most devastatingly destructive attack ever)

Quiet Dragon/Qinglong goes to JFM, it is a very calm and steadfast water ghoul that specializes in boat transportation. It can move in such a way that will not cause ripple in the water at all, most of the times when it is driving the boat, you wouldn’t even notice that the boat is moving unless you’re looking at the shore and see the fast moving landscape. (It also means that if it decided to sink your boat, you’d already be drowning before you even realized something was there)

Pond Sparrow/Zhuque is a very small water ghoul. It is fast and sneaky and somehow it has eyes everywhere. It is used to monitor the water and the shores for threats. It can produce sharp gurgling noises of various tones that could be compared to a bird song (if the bird was half-way drowning and your ears were somehow non-functional). The song is used to communicate with and alert all the other water ghouls. Somehow Zhuque is very good at locating the best lotus seeds and would regularly bring back some to JYL.

Empty Shore/Baihu is a hunting dog water ghoul. If it got a whiff of a scent or spiritual energy it will be able to track down anyone as soon as they are under a li (~500 meters) of a body of water. It is very, very persistent and will not give up unless it manages to get its prey. Its offensive abilities are like strong current waves to Xuanwu’s whirlpool in terms of destructive ability. It will send a huge wave towards the shore (not unlike a small tsunami) that will, depending on how it is controlling the current, either crash down everything on its way or drag whatever it wants in the water). It is also very good at tracking down “wild water ghoul” and dragging them back for WWX to purify. Baihu is naturally for JC.

And well in case you’re wondering, WWX’s own water ghoul pet (the first one he ‘tamed’ that had nearly drown him) is called Hēi Shuǐ ( 黑水 - “Black Water”) which is more straightforward and isn’t nearly as entertaining as the names he came up with later (ie. with no puns or play on words), but in his defense he had not yet come up with the mythological beasts theme when he named his pet.

[AN: Black Water is a direct reference to Black Water Submerging Boat, one of the Four Calamities and one of the three Supreme Ghosts in TGCF]

Hei Shui, by virtue of being the first (and a total accident), lacks most of its siblings flashy abilities. However what it loses in pure destructive power, it more than makes up with speed, ingenuity and intelligence. All water ghouls were intelligent by nature, but Hei Shui had reached a level that was downright terrifying.

Years later, after getting acquainted with a certain Second Jade of Lan, WWX will gift him Yù Tù (欲兔- “to wish for, to desire” “rabbit”) , which sounds like “ Yù Tù, Jade Rabbit” (also known as Moon Rabbit) another famous mythical figure... (he got a “Shameless!” with red tainted ears in return once he actually explained that it didn’t actually stand for the Jade Rabbit)...Yu Tu was given the task to act cute (or as cute as a water ghoul could be), transport the occasional letters between WWX and LWJ and rescue any drowning people it might encountered... but really 90% of its job is to act adorable... [Also it might or might not have the lethal ability to completely obliterate anything weaker than a Waterborne Abyss in case of emergency...]

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

Status Progress:

>> WWX has been upgraded to naming menace!

>> Water ghouls have been upgraded to no longer nameless super badass water beasts!

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

Okay there’s no art for this part, cause my drawing skills are utterly unable to reach the level that would allow me to draw what I’ve got in mind for this one. (In case you’re curious, I envision a huge poster like thing divided in four parts. In each parts you get one of the four Jiang with their water ghouls + their respective mythological beasts in the background. Madam Yu would be standing right above a whirlpool, with zidian crackling around her. JC would stand cross-armed above a huge tsunami-like wave. JFM would standing on a boat, looking calm and mysterious. JYL would be on a bridge, looking peaceful as she glanced down at her water ghoul)....

Anyway.... Next part Meng Yao will make an entrance :)

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #my shitty au #Water Ghouls AU #wei wuxian #wwx #jiang cheng #jc #jyl #jiang yanli #madam yu #jfm

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afterspark-podcast · 3 years ago

Text

G1 Episode 42: Transcript

[This can also be found on AO3!]

[Stinger]

O: But that's because he acquired a dog!

[Intro Music]

O: Hello, and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. I'm Owls!

S: And I'm Specs.

O: And today we're going to be talking about episode number 42: The Autobot Run. Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Yeah!

O: So once upon a time... on a racetrack.

S: Spike and Chip get a brilliant idea: What if the other boss participated in racing?

O: Bumblebee arrives and says, “One limo-bot at your service,” uh, which is adorable, might I add?

S: Spike asks Bee how he feels about racing.

O: Bee is decidedly not a speedster as he seems down for it as long as it's under the speed limit, which also amusingly, goes against the fact that he totally got pulled over for speeding in an earlier episode but whatever.

S: Yeah, yeah that's true. Laserbeak overhears this exchange.

O: I'm not exactly sure how any of this is going to help the Decepticons but all right.

S: The Decepticons are just- they're here to gather all the information they can.

O: It's Laserbeak's job. I- I am just imagining him picking up on the most mundane information and, like, having to pass it off to Soundwave because it's his job.

S: Yeah, oh god, they probably have terabytes of information stored someplace.

O: [Laughter] Probably.

S: Yeah. Elsewhere, in a weirdly well-preserved old west town, the Constructicons are finishing the dumb 80’s weapon of the week. The, um, Transfixatron which sounds like could be a lot of things, but probably not what you're expecting.

O: Uh, which is, of course, a purple gun mounted on a weird stand thing.

S: Yep. Laserbeak's arrival causes Megatron to go off model and resemble Homer Simpson for a split second in the mouth department.

O: Which is very unnerving.

S: Yeah and I- I keep envisioning it right now and it is definitely very unnerving.

O: Very, very, very unnerving. Um, Laserbeak hops into Soundwave’s chest compartment and reports on the doings of the Autobots’ human allies, and the Autobots too, I guess. Since Bumblebee was there.

S: Yeah, Megatron is going to make good use of this information about the, uh, proposed Autobot race.

O: Again, not sure how but okay, buddy!

S: Yeah, but, uh, first he's gotta test out his new toy! Much to the chagrin of Starscream, who really does not approve that they're not beating up the Autobots right now.

O: You know, I think he's just salty that Megatron had the Constructicons build his new toy instead of him.

S: Yeah, that sounds- that sounds on brand. He calls it an idiotic contraption.

O: Of course the moment Megatron threatens to use it on Starstream, as his first test subject, suddenly Starstream changes his tune on if the device might work or not. “After all, what's a test without a guinea pig-atron.” Yes, Megatron said that word for word.

S: Guinea pig has clearly entered the Decepticons lexicon.

O: Yes, so Megatron picks up the entire gun which, again, I remind you is on a base, uh, and, uh, shoots Starscream.

S: Why does it have a stand at all? Maybe just get a shoulder strap or a harness or something for it? Or a table? Do they not want to draw a table? This is a very stupidly designed contraption.

O: Which, you know, is per the norm for 80's cartoons. At first, it appears that the gun has done nothing to Starscream.

S: Starscream responds just about how you'd expect, mock-mocking Megatron for his high-tech garbage.

O: But Megatron tells Starscream to try and transform, which, of course, he can't because that's the entire function of the Transfixatron.

S: Transfixing you in your-

O: Alt.

S: Altmode, yeah. And so Shockwave suddenly appears standing next to Megatron despite not being in any of the previous shots?

O: I also don't think he shows up again in this episode. He certainly doesn't have any lines.

S: Yeah, he just- poof. He's just taking a mini vacation.

O: Assumably he wanted off Cybertron for a while.

S: [indistinct] Yeah.

O: Uh, Starscream begs Megatron to return him to normal.

S: They bicker, there's some back and forth. Megatron threatens to leave him this way forever.

O: Starscream says, “But I'm too valuable to you!” I'm too good of a lay, boss you can't do this.

S: Megatron tells him to stop whining and, uh, returns Starscream to normal. He then monologues a bit about how they're going to use the Transfixatron on the Autobots and then commands the Constructicons to, “Get started on the second device.”

O: So we don't just get one silly 80’s weapon of the week, we get two in this episode!

S: Gee, I wonder what it looks like.

O: [Laughter] The answer to that might surprise you!

S: This inexplicably involves Hook plunging his namesake into the ground to begin excavating- with his hook. The Constructicons, well, the other Constructicons begin digging in a much more sensible manner.

O: Now at the Ark, uh, Chip and Spike are on the cusp of convincing Optimus Prime of their charity racing idea.

S: The other Autobots all seem pretty for it.

O: Ironhide wants some action or he'll rust. I'm not sure if I had Ironhide’s alt that racing would be my first choice of a leisure activity, but more power to you buddy.

S: Obviously he's just going to use his multitude of weaponry to booby-trap the track. I mean, who knows? Maybe he's got some sort of rocket booster?

O: [Laughter] More of the rocket-powered fist!

S: Yeah, or at least everybody but Huffer is into the idea. Frankly, I have to wonder where Red Alert is because he'd probably be having a conniption.

O: Okay, he is locked up in his room monitoring things, probably. And it's like, “I don't see it, I don't hear it, it does not exist,” I imagine. Uh but, of course, this means Huffer is voluntold that he gets to stay and watch the base.

S: Yep, ah, Huffer who gets to be responsible today, but Brawn, Ratchet and Wheeljack stay behind to keep him company.

O: Which is weird, because isn't Wheeljacks’ alt a race car?

S: Yeah, he's a Lancia Stratos.

O: You’d think he'd be more into this.

S: Maybe he's just not that big into going around- around- around- around in a circle. It's just not so exciting for him.

O: I-I do like the idea of somebody who definitely does not have the personality of a race car being put into the body of a racing car like- you know, he's a scientist in all- all reality he should be like, uh, um, a sedan or something, but- but he got stuck in the body of a race car!

S: Optimus leads the rest of the Autobots out with the call of: “Roll for the show!”

O: At the racetrack, with our celebrity guests, the Autobots.

S: Our roster for today is: Cliffjumper, Bluestreak, Jazz, Prowl, Sideswipe, Ironhide, Hound, Sunstreaker, Optimus, Trailbreaker, Mirage, Windcharger, and Gears.

O: Huffer was too cranky to come but Gears is just fine with this today.

S: He's a sporty little car, he can have a little racing, you know, as a treat.

O: [Laughter] Uh, one man from the audience jumps up and says, “Hey! Where are their cars?!”

S: Honey, honey, they are the cars.

O: Has this man been living under a rock for a year or so, or however long they've been there and missed the whole giant transforming alien robots bit?

S: Very probably.

O: Jesus!

S: I'm going to go with a ‘yes’ here.

O: Where do you live, man? I-I would like directions because I would like to not be in society right now. Um, so we see Bumblebee chilling off to the side with Chip and Spike as the two- ah, the three of them, rather, watch the race.

S: He doesn't really seem like he cares for sports.

O: He likes the speed limit just fine, thanks. That's what he said to the- I know, it's funny.

S: Mostly I'm just wondering if he was involved in that episode where Optimus plays basketball or whatever.

O: I can't remember. I- like, I'm remembering like Sunstreaker and, I think, Sideswipe but I don't- I don't remember if Bee was involved with the basketball or not.

S: I feel like he wasn't, but yeah, I don't remember so, yeah, he's just- Bee does not care about sports, yeah. Ah, the Autobots, predictably, transform and line up at the starting line.

O: The race begins!

S: Ironhide and Trailbreaker rib each other a little bit as neither of them seems terribly quick.

O: Sunstreaker leaves the rest in the dust, taunting them as he goes by. Oh, my beautiful idiot.

S: Mirage being an actual Formula One race car also pulls ahead and Jazz decides they need a soundtrack.

O: Which I would think driving around in circles would be boring so, I don't know, that seems like a very good call to me.

S: Yeah, Optimus Prime is inexplicably close to the lead, I mean, maybe everyone is-

O: Too afraid to pass him?

S: Maybe, or they're all just chill and this is their equivalent of jogging around a track.

O: [Laughter] Okay, that's kind of funny. Suddenly! Skywarp appears overhead, transforming into his root mode and pulling the Transfixatron out of his ass.

S: Subspace, hammer space, wherever Optimus hides his trailer.

O: Skywarp hits all of the Autobots on the track with the Transfixatron.

S: Spike sees this and says, “What was that?”

O: Bumblebee responds with something about energy evaporation from all the speed.

S: Bumblebee responds with bullshit.

O: [Laughter]

S: Let's just be straight about this.

O: Skywarp teleports away, meeting back up with the Decepticons

S: Megatron actually praises him.

O: Again, he really seems to like Skywarp.

S: Back on the racetrack, Ironhide asks Trailbreaker if he felt anything weird.

O: And then Trailbreaker, again, ribs him because Ironhide’s in last place and, really, when you get down to it they are in a race of two and are really only up for who's not in last place right now because they are both very slow.

S: Yeah, the group approaches the finish line with Jazz and Mirage out in front.

O: We're not really told who wins but it's safe to assume it was either Jazz or Mirage or, maybe, both of them.

S: Yeah. On to the next event on the docket for today: The Autobots’ incredible car stunts.

O: Sunstreaker has all the other Autobots line up so he can jump over them off, you know, jump off a ramp over them, rather.

S: Ah, time to be a daredevil. Some of the Autobots dislike this idea more than others, but they all, you know, comply and line up.

O: Optimus tells Sunstreaker he won't be able to make it.

S: Spoiler alert: Sunstreaker does not make it.

O: But! Sunstriker is saved by some quick thinking by Windcharger, who catches him with his magnets.

S: And the crowd seems to love it anyway, so: Mission accomplished!

O: Mirage catches sight of the Decepticons and the Autobots attempt to transform. Of course Megatron lands in front of them and gloats.

S: It's Megatron, I mean, that's what he does, it's what he loves.

O: It's what he lives for.

S: Then Megatron uses- utilizes some eye lasers to chase the humans away.

O: When did he get eye lasers!?

S: He's just had so much stupid shit installed.

O: [Deadpan] Help the Autobots are in danger, cut to commercial.

S: Is this a facelift for Decepticons?

O: I don't know.

S: The Decepticons attack and with the Autobots in car mode they aim for the tires.

O: Bee gets Spike and Chip out of there before they're noticed and heads back to the Ark.

S: Ironhide tells everybody to, “Push past that flat tire,” but they start taking hits from Thundercrackers’ incendiary blasts.

O: Ironhide says, “I'm getting sunburnt on the inside!” Push past it, Ironhide, push past it!

S: Soundwave then disables the Autobots communicators and Megatron says to, “Take them away.”

O: Bee’s plan actually worked quite well and the Decepticons never noticed them at all and they were able to get back to the Ark and tell the remaining Autobots basically all this shit went down.

S: Yup. Huffer bitches and moans before Brawn threatens to put his, “Footio into his audio.”

O: That's not even clever.

S: It isn't.

O: I know what I'm watching. [Laughter] Uh, Chip uses Teletraan I and he, Wheeljack, and Ratchet are very quickly able to come up with a hypothesis for what could have caused the Autobots to not be able to transform.

S: Ratchet and Wheeljack get to work. They got some business to take care of.

O: Good thing, too- they left two of the scientists behind. Where's Perceptor?

S: Yeah, and Beachcomber? I mean-

O: They're just off today, apparently!

S: Maybe Beachcomber took the- the Dinobots out?

O: Yeah, that's just the right recurring joke at this point is he- he babysits the Dinobots in his downtime.

S: Beachcomber and Perceptor took the Dinobots out on an expedition-

O: So, Ratchet and Wheeljack could have a nice, quiet couple's day at home and then this happened.

S: Yes.

O: Gotcha. Back in the old west, Megatron unveils his second bullshit machine.

S: Guess what it does? Guess what it does? It's gonna eat the Autobots!

O: That's what he says but that thing has fucking tentacles. Remember what I said, is what you didn't expect? It has fucking tentacles! And, you know, it makes me think, remember that episode of the giant supercomputer, TORQ III, and the weird kink machines he was using against the Autobots? I am just saying he did that after being corrupted by Megatron. After!

S: Yeah.

O: Megatron! Has a thing! For kink machines!

S: Yeah, the machine is really dark purple-

O: Of course.

S: It has a large grabby claw and a crusher at the top and also, weirdly enough, smaller tentacles.

O: Don't know what to do with your machine? Add more tentacles!

S: Apparently. Well, I mean, the whole theoretically them coming from the Quintessons, kind of makes that all really-

O: It does make a little bit more sense with that, doesn't it? Hmm.

S: Yeah, time to shudder.

O: [Laughter] Ironhide cuts off Megatron with the sentiment of, ‘Oh, just kill us already,’ rather than have to listen to him talk.

S: Then, of course, Megatron wants to demonstrate to them exactly how they're going to die but so the Cons toss in some stuff to show the Autobots how they're going to get crushed. Did they just go off and grab some junk for this?

O: I assume? Maybe it was spare parts from the machine- or like, they didn't use when building the machine?

S: Maybe.

O: While all this is going on, Hound is able to transmit a single image to the Ark, despite their communicators being disabled.

S: Teletraan I is able to triangulate their exact location based on this one image which, I guess, is not out of the realm of possibility.

O: It still seems kind of silly.

S: Yeah.

O: Um, Soundwave being, you know, the only competent one here realizes that something's up pretty quickly and shoots Hound's gun that was also acting as his transmitter?

S: He's the guy who does the... holograms!

O: Yes.

S: That was what I was... yeah, so yeah. Who knows what the fuck Hound can do. Megatron's new machine spits a tiny little block of crushed metal out so apparently he was concerned with how much space his enemy's corpses would take up.

O: At least he's not littering?

S: I guess? I mean you can always recycle material but I guess he's an evil villain so, uh, yeah.

O: [Laughter] He's going to build a house out of his enemy’s corpses is what I'm getting from this, okay. It's gonna have an entire fortress of Autobots.

S: I think, more likely to do a chair out of corpses.

O: That's true, there aren't that many Autobots there.

S: Yes, but I think there's also a weird precedent for that in the comics.

O: Yeah, probably.

S: Megatron tells the Constructicons to make Ironhide the first target and the Autobots surround him like circling up the wagons and the- but the Constructicons just sort of casually pick them up and toss them over to the side and get to Ironhide anyway.

O: Because, again, they're all stuck in car mode.

S: Yea.

O: Uh, back at the Ark, Wheeljack and Ratchets’ labors have produced, the Holy Hand Grenade!

S: [Laughter] This will apparently create energy waves that will allow the others to go back to normal.

O: Unfortunately, there's no time to test if this will work so off they go to try to save their friends.

S: Back with the Cons, Ironhide is in the grasp of the purple, chompy machine and about to be eaten but Optimus sends out Roller. It's Roller time, guys!

O: Duh-duh-na-na!

S: Jazz hands.

O: Jazz doesn't have any hands right now. [Laughter] Sorry.

S: Jazz speakers, then!

O: [Laughter]

S: Uh, Roller begins, uh, weaving between the Decepticons’ legs as they all start shooting at him.

O: The rest of the Autobots arrive just in time.

S: And Ratchet gets to be Ironhide again because he's miscolored. Again.

O: So, Ironhide is about to get eaten and is also driving up to himself.

S: Good times, good times, guys.

O: [Laughter]

S: While the Cons are distracted, Optimus rams the machine causing it to drop Ironhide onto the ground.

O: Megatron's pissed and fires on Optimus and Ironhide.

S: Ratchet is uh, Ratchet again before turning back into ironhide for three sec- three seconds later.

O: Soundwave, his cassettes, Skywarp, and Thundercracker begin attacking them.

S: But at least Spike brought his personal protective equipment today.

O: Yay.

S: Wheeljack is running in an attempt to protect the grenade in what can only be described as a Scooby-Doo-esque sequence.

O: Which is very applicable considering how many Scooby-Doo voice actors were in this show but anyway, I have no idea how the Cons know that Wheeljack's the one they should target right now but they are targeting him.

S: Yeah, two Thundercrackers appear to be chasing Wheeljack before one disappears, presumably Skywarp, uh, you know, teleporting and reappears as Starscream before yelling in Skywarp's voice.

O: So everything went wrong in that scene that possibly could. [Laughter]

S: Well, aside from just completely forgetting to color characters at all.

O: Yes, yes but- but I think because the Seekers are all the same model it's almost worse when they're- they're colored the wrong color.

S: Yeah, the grenade is knocked out of Wheeljack's hand before Spike catches it.

O: Soundwave then makes a beeline for him and Soundwaves like, “Get the human microbe.”

S: Spike then tosses the Holy Hand Grenade to Chip who begins wheeling away like there's absolutely no tomorrow. Soundwave sends out Ravage who knocks Chip over just as he throws the grenade to the Autobots.

O: Ravage, apparently, just leaves him alone after he does this instead of, I don't know, mauling him.

S: He's a considerate cat. Thankfully the grenade does indeed work, pissing off Megatron who orders the Constructicons to combine.

O: And they seem quite happy to have something to do that isn't work on Megatron's pet projects.

S: Finally! Conflict!!! Hit it!!

O: Devastator then tosses the Autobots around.

S: And, surprising the hell out of us, the propulsion via hand thrusters makes a surprise second appearance with Wheeljack.

O: Who gets the great idea of defeating Devastator with the Transfixatron and enlists Cliffjumper to help him because he cannot reach the controls without help because the gun is too tall.

S: Yeah, so they hit Devastator with the gadget of the week and Devastator falls to pieces.

O: Megatron realizes they're outnumbered without Devastator and the Decepticons retreat.

S: Ironhide and Trailbreaker knock over the Transfixatron, which then has a tiny explosion for no good reason.

O: [Laughter]

S: Ratchet groans about how many repairs he's going to have to do now and the episode ends.

O: So join us next time for episode 43: The Golden Lagoon. Skinny dipping robots, skinny dipping robots everywhere. Oh, and also the Decepticons want to be... shiny.

S: And environmental destruction. But let's not forget the shiny.

O: [Laughter] The shiny is what's important here.

S: Okay so we have two fanfic recommendations: one wild card fic from Owls and one from myself. Mine is “Going to the Dogs” by Koi Lungfish. It's in the G1 cartoon continuity, rated K+, it's Gen, there’s no pairings, and the characters are Red Alert, Prowl, Inferno, and Jazz. In summary, “Human tourists cause Prowl and Red Alert some confusion.”

O: I could see that.

S: And so the reason I picked this one is because the race is basically like human outreach- social outreach, more or less. They're- they're trying to be entertainers, so the fan thing about the humans effectively trying to reach out and build more of a social profile with humans by inviting tourists into the Ark and trying to be transparent is- it's a fun concept and I like it.

O: Fair.

S: It's a one shot so therefore complete, so let's go on to Owls' choice!

O: All right, my fanfic suggestion for today is “Casting for a Tape Bros Film.” It is by LittleMissSweetGrass. The continuity is IDW, it is rated G. It is slash, but very light slash, I would say. Our pairings are CosWave and our characters are Soundwave, Marissa, Rumble, Frenzy, Buzzsaw, Laserbeak, and Cosmos. And in summary, “Soundwave gets a phone call from Marissa that he really, really doesn't want to deal with right now.” It is a one shot, it's very short but it's very cute. It's kind of, I think, Soundwave trying to sleep and getting calls that involve Thundercracker.

Both: [Laughter]

O: A sudden attack of the Thundercracker.

S: Nice, and that just about wraps it up for us today. Remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes, or links we may have mentioned. You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at AftersparkPod (all one word) and various other locations by searching for Afterspark Podcast such as AO3, iTunes, Spotify, and Youtube, just to name a few. And feel free to send us questions on Tumblr, Youtube, or AO3! Till next time, I'm Specs.

O: I’m Owls.

S: Toodles.

[Outro Music]

#transcript #g1 episode 42 #afterspark #afterspark podcast

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