#by the afternoon though he’s like: wow this is easy I should get a dog 🐕

[goldfish-fhr]

Marcos cries in the dog park after he volunteers to babysit spoon for a week and forgets dogs wake up in the am to go potty. He is wrapped in a blanket and his hair is a mess and there’s snot running down his nose.

[nicoise]

El <3

"a tentative, exploratory kiss between friends" sounds very interesting and I would love to read something written by you!

The afternoon after Blaine took his last exam, they went to the beach.

Kurt was waiting for him outside the exam hall. It was blindingly sunny. Blaine felt the warmth envelope him and remembered he was alive.

Kurt was smiling behind his enormous sunglasses. “How was it?”

“I honestly don’t care how I did for once,” Blaine said, following Kurt to the car. “I’m just happy I’m done.”

The drive took twenty minutes. The thing about letting Kurt drive was that he kept glancing toward Blaine in the passenger seat, not actually at him, but to look at the road. Even this nominal attention flustered him. He looked out the window on his side to hide it.

It was a weekday and the beach was relatively empty. There were maybe three families and a handful of people walking their dogs.

The glossy rocks created vague tide pools. Kurt sat on a rock as Blaine waded into the water, which glittered when the sun passed over it.

“Look,” said Blaine. “Tiny fish.” There were in fact pale minnows swimming around his ankles.

Kurt leaned down to look. Blaine flicked water at him. Kurt emitted an impressively high pitched noise. 

Blaine laughed so hard he tripped over something. The water was freezing. When he resurfaced Kurt was looking smug. “Avenged without even having to do anything."

Blaine was soaked and his hair was done for. He shook his head and saw Kurt duck from the flinging water drops. “Wow, it’s like you’re the wicked witch of the west.”

“I’m not afraid of water,” Kurt said, “I would just like to not get wet.”

“Did you know fear of water was historically associated with rabies? They used to call rabies hydrophobia or something.”

“How relevant.”

“It’s not really,” Blaine started to say, then realized Kurt was being sarcastic. “Oh. I think exams made my brain melt into a confusing pool of trivia.”

Blaine was doing premed to satisfy his parents. If he failed to get into medical school he’d be free to pursue something else. It made studying really psychologically difficult.

Kurt didn’t say anything about it even though he had in the past. He just said, “I miss your voice. Sing something for me?”

Blaine did. Kurt had perfect pitch and gave him the starting note. He was able to laugh at himself when his voice cracked because it was Kurt, who was the only one who ever really heard him sing. 

Pressed up to the rock that Kurt was sitting on, his face by Kurt’s knee, it was easy to allow the romance of the moment bleed into his voice. It was the part of the afternoon when the clouds would cover and uncover the sun so that the sky would dim and brighten over and over. He was watching the water glitter intermittently and thinking about how every song sounded like it was about Kurt.

Later they were walking up the shore. It was still sunny but windy and Blaine was shivering.

“Just ditch your wet shirt,” Kurt suggested. “You can have this one. Advantage of so many layers.” He undid his button-down shirt and tossed it at Blaine, who caught it neatly. Underneath Kurt was wearing a black tank top, which fit him really well.

Blaine shucked off his wet shirt as Kurt stared into the not-quite sunset. Kurt’s shirt had a fancy black and white pattern. Blaine had seen him wear it often without expecting to ever be holding it in his hands. 

He put it on. The material felt expensive and it smelled like Kurt, like his sweat and his sunscreen. Blaine wasn’t expecting it. For a brief moment it was hard to breathe. 

Kurt turned. He looked approving. “You should let me buy you clothes sometime.”

“I would never survive shopping with you,” Blaine said, glad his voice came out normal. “What is this, Prada?”

“Nope.”

“Mcqueen.”

“No.”

“Dolce and Gabbana. Vivienne Westwood. Burberry.”

“No luck.”

Blaine gave up when he’d listed every designer and retailer he thought Kurt would deign to shop at. It was Forever21. Apparently Kurt was full of surprises.

On the way back they stopped at 7Eleven where Blaine bought a raspberry slushie. They sat on a park bench outside near the pigeons.

Blaine offered Kurt the cup. “Do you want some?”

Kurt hesitated. He was weird about sharing straws. Blaine began to pry off the lid of the cup so Kurt could drink directly from it. 

Something happened. Kurt began to laugh. “Oh my god.”

The lid had spat bits of slushie on Blaine’s face. A wet chunk of ice slid down his cheek. “Oh, come on.”

Kurt didn’t stop laughing but did produce a handkerchief for him. Trust Kurt to carry around handkerchiefs. 

Blaine took it and wiped his face. “Just be glad I didn’t mess up your shirt.”

That shut Kurt up. “You’re right. Red40 is impossible to get out of blended textiles.” He looked Blaine over, possibly for signs of slushie damage, seemingly finding none. “The shirt looks good on you,” he said.

“Thanks. I - “ He lost his train of thought. Kurt was staring at him still.

“You have a…” Kurt motioned at his own face.

It took Blaine a while to get it. Then he pressed his fingers to the corner of his mouth.

“Other side.”

He switched sides.

“No - like, near the middle but not - “ Kurt sighed. “Don’t give me that face, it’s distracting.”

What face? Blaine looked at him in confusion, hand dropping to his side.

Kurt’s irritated expression softened. The light of the setting sun was doing something to his face - it made his skin almost luminous, revealing a faint dusting of freckles Blaine had never noticed before. Blaine was so entranced by it that when Kurt kissed him he didn’t react until it was over.

It was a little off center. There was a fleeting impression of a touch to his bottom lip like a caress. Blaine put a hand to his mouth. Oh. Kurt had kissed the slushie off him.

Blaine was smiling. He couldn’t help it. He was thinking about how Kurt had always been unwilling to share a straw, about every imagined glance that might not have been imagined, and the song from earlier was ringing in his head but there was no hopelessness to it anymore.

Kurt looked away like he was embarrassed. “It’s gone,” he said, apparently over it, but his voice was pitchy.

Blaine was okay with letting him pretend. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

Kurt looked up, eyebrow on the rise, but whatever he saw on Blaine’s face made it stop.

It was hard to tell who leaned in first; they met in the middle and then it was the real thing. Kurt tasted faintly of raspberry. His top lip was spare but his lower lip was full, and he made a pleased sound when Blaine bit it gently. He was cupping Blaine’s face in his hands and Blaine felt like he was submerging in a wash of joy that was the opposite of terrifying, like a tide that returns forever.

“Wow,” Blaine said, when they separated. He said it again.

Kurt was watching him sort of anxiously. “So does this mean - ? If you tell me that was friendly I will combust.”

Blaine tried not to laugh. “Uh, what exactly do you think I do with my friends?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Look. Kurt. They’re all sick to death of hearing about my massive crush on you which I apparently haven’t shut up about all year - “

Kurt cut him off with another kiss, quick, full of intent. Blaine was starting to think he’d never get used to it. It was like stepping out of the exam room and into the sun all over again: exhilarating.

[missymurphy1985]

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

[justhockeythings-blog1]

Who said I’m out of your league?

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to end this one so let me know what you all think! Feed back is greatly appreciated! Also I totally had to use this gif, his confidence is unmatched lol

Request:  Can you please do a William Nylander imagine where you meet the team for the first time and they tease him about you being out of his league or something. Thanks!

For the entirety of your six month relationship, you had always assumed that Willy was out of your league. He was a professional hockey player, the Swedish-Canadian version of Thor, not to mention that his personality could impress even the strictest mother on the planet. You were, for all intents and purposes, average. You had a normal job, normal friends, you considered your looks to be normal, and you had a normal, by your own standards, upbringing. Your personality was probably the one thing you were confident could hold a flame to Willy’s but even then, he had the ability to be so selfless at times you wondered if you were dating an angel. 

Willy on the other hand thought that you were the most amazing thing to ever walk this planet and he took every single opportunity to tell you just that. You did something different with your hair? “Wow babe, you look amazing.” You wore new clothes that you just got? “Damn baby you should model for that company.” There was never a shortage of compliments that came from him about you. 

Which was probably why you didn’t feel as nervous as you should about meeting his teammates for the first time. You knew that Willy loved you, there was never a doubt in your mind, so you figured even if today went horribly wrong in every aspect you still had that going for you. You also had heard wonderful things about his teammates, from Willy himself but also the fans. It wasn’t like you hadn’t interacted with them in some capacity, they had heard your voice over the phone or briefly over the headset when Willy joined them for video games. You were pretty sure Willy had talked about you to them, at least in some capacity, so really you should be set up for an easy meeting with all of them. 

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyways, the closer you got to the bar you were meeting the team at the more you felt your hands beginning to sweat. You rubbed them on your jeans for the fifth time, reaching over to lace your fingers with Willy’s as he drove. You thought you were holding your nerves fairly well, you had assured Willy before you left that this was going to be a walk in the park.

Boy were you beginning to eat your words.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He teased, pulling his eyes away from the road momentarily before he returned them to focus on where he was going. “You’re never nervous.”

That was a lie. In fact Willy had seen you nervous on numerous occasions, including the first time you two had ever met. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it cute. You had a number of nervous ticks that he had picked up on over the last few months. You would bounce your leg while waiting for an event that was causing your nerves to spike or you would bite your lip when deep in thought, as if planning out every option. Your cheeks would heat up, creeping up your neck, when someone called you out on any and you would wave your hand in the air as if physically brushing the nerves away momentarily.

 Right now you were expressing all of those ticks, right down to the heat climbing up your neck as you tried to wave your free hand absentmindedly, brushing his words out of the air. It caused Willy to smile, he knew you better than you thought he did. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before he focused back on the road again. You would never admit it to him, you liked to be a neutral front but he had seen your nerves spike randomly in the days leading up to today. You had grilled him about his teammates a few times, wanting to make sure you at least had the basics of their names, girlfriends who may or may not be there. It had made Willy laugh, comparing it to you taking notes as if you were about to write a paper on the leafs player. 

“You can hide it all you want, but you’re nervous.” He called you out again and you gave him a sharp look, sticking your tongue out at him childishly. 

“I’m not nervous, I’m just…” You trailed off, tossing around a number of emotions in your head before you settled on the one. “Worried. These guys are your teammates and your best friends. I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, because you love me and that’s important but it’s going to make things awkward if they don’t like me.” 

You turned to look at him, letting your words settle in the car as Willy parked, your stomach dropping to your feet as you realized you were there. Everything felt so much more real now that you were looking at the sign of the bar, peering in the front window you could see Zach and Rasmus, already surrounded by other players. 

“Hey..” Willy’s soft voice pulled your eyes away from the window and back to him. “It’s going to be okay. They’re going to love you, I mean it’s not like I haven’t hyped you up. Just be yourself, if you’re uncomfortable after like an hour then we can go, okay?” He assured you, giving your hand another kiss.

“Okay, let’s go.” You smiled a little, grabbing your purse and climbing out, stopping in front of the car to wait for him before you both made your way inside. Your stomach flipping once more as he held the door for you, following you inside and guiding you over to the table.

“About time, we were wondering if you got lost on your way.” Zach teased, causing Willy to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I get lost one time and you never let me live it down.” Willy laughed, pulling out a chair for you to sit down in before taking one at your side. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Zach, Rasmus, Auston…”

You followed his finger as he pointed to each player who was there, as well as their own guests, mentally trying to commit them all to memory. You were pretty good when it came to names and faces, but the nerves weren’t helping, you could almost feel your hands shaking a little. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.” You waved a little, smiling softly as conversation picked up, Willy holding your hand under the table. 

~

It was as though you had known these people your whole life, you fell into conversation easily, answering questions about your job, hobbies, and your family. Willy kept a close eye on you the entire time, making sure that you weren’t getting overwhelmed by the amount of people who were trying to get to know you all at once. He smiled a little as he watched you engage in a conversation with Mitch about puppies and which breed was superior. He hadn’t been worried about you meeting the guys, he knew you would get along well and they would probably end up liking you more than him. 

In his mind it was impossible to not like, you were the sweetest person he had ever crossed paths with, with the exception of maybe his mom. You were constantly doing what you could to help others, taking care of him in the smallest ways like putting his laundry away after a road trip, making his favorite dinner after a rough game, or making sure he followed the trainer’s instructions even if he tried to avoid them. Not to mention that you seemed to make friends everywhere the two of you went, you just had the type of energy that drew people to you. 

“Hey, I’m going to grab another drink with the girls, did you want anything?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts as you stood up and he smiled a little. “Sure, surprise me.” 

He gave your hand one more squeeze as he watched you branch away from him with some of the girls, making your way up to the bar to order your drinks. It was like a proud parent watching their kid go off to school for the first time, it was a sign to Willy that you really were comfortable around his friends now. 

“Dude, she is so out of your league.” Mitch snorted, taking a sip of his drink as he watched Willy look after you with that same lost puppy dog expression you had been describing about your own dog only moments ago. 

Willy felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to hide his face in the last remnants of his drink, he should have known the second they had him alone they would say something to him.

“I mean seriously, she’s like a walking angel. How did you land her?” Zach asked, joining in on the chirping of their young teammate. Everyone was happy that Willy had found someone who seemed to match his energy, knowing that the blonde deserved the best. 

“It’s my undeniable charm boys, maybe you should try it sometime.” He smirked a little, firing back at his teammates as they all erupted into chuckles around him. 

“Well if she ever wants a real man, let her know I’m always around.” Rasmus teased, reaching over to mess up Willy’s hair playfully as Willy smacked his hands away. 

“She wants a man not a man child.” Willy fired back before he felt a hand on his shoulder, another drink being placed in front of him. “Got your usual!” 

He smiled as he saw you sitting back down beside him, shooting a look to the boys to behave, he didn’t mind their chirping but he didn’t know how you would take it seeing as how this was your first time meeting them and while it was going well, he didn’t want it to ruin anything.

~

The rest of the afternoon continued in a similar manner, the conversation flowed easily, and any time you stepped away from the group Willy was hit with another round of chirping about how you were out of his league. It was all in good fun and by the end of the afternoon you had begun to pick up on some of the chirping that carried over into the normal conversation, firing back at the boys with a smirk. 

“I mean, at least Willy knows what he’s doing, when was the last time a girl came back to you after a night?” You shot back at Auston innocently, sipping your drink as Willy and the boys burst into a loud round of laughter, accepting the high fives and the fist bump from Auston. 

“On that note, I think we better get going, gotta get my girl home and away from you hooligans.” Willy smiled, throwing his tip money on the table as he helped you up and you waved your goodbyes to the group. 

“Bye Y/N! You know where to find us if you ever want an upgrade!” You heard the boys called, laughing as you and Willy made your way back out to the car. The ride home was nice, you were buzzing as you filled Willy in on the conversations he hadn’t been a part of. This continued when you got home too, jabbering away as you made your way upstairs, stripping out of your jeans and sweater, tugging a pair of his sweatpants from the drawer as he sat on the bed, staring at you. 

“Damn you are so out of my league.” He muttered to himself, smiling as he watched you glow in relief of his friends approving of you. 

“What? Who said I was out of your league?” You frowned a little, setting yourself between his legs and playing with his hair as you looked down at him, his hands resting on your sweatpant clad hips. 

“Just the guys chirping at me, don’t worry about it but they do have a point. I am dating a literal angel.” He smiled as he could tell that the heat was rising up your neck to your cheeks again, in an attempt to hide your blush you shook your head. These were the things you usually thought about Willy, not things you were used to him saying about you. 

“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror Nylander?” You hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips so he couldn’t argue against you. “Maybe we aren’t out of each other’s leagues but just in a league all our own.” 

He smiled against your lips, giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “That’s a pretty elite league to be in, I must’ve gotten called up when I started dating you.”

“You’re running my compromise!” You laughed and pushed his shoulder, hardly enough to budge him. “Now, I had fun today but can we get pizza or something and just chill? My social battery is drained.” 

He smiled and stood up, now towering over you gave him the advantage to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 10

.

@pocketramblr :)

.

One day - and not even a whole day, because of travel time and Inko wanted Izuku home for dinner- simply wasn't enough time to master a quirk. Although he could turn Float on and off, now. So, they made plans to come back next week, and the next, up until the sports festival. Which. Wow. Really was only two weeks away.

Izuku had never realized how close to the beginning of the school year it was.

He was going to die.

"You're not going to die," said Mr. Yagi. "I'm not going to say the sports festival isn't important, because it is, it's one of the best ways to make professional connections for students, but not doing well isn't the end of the world, especially not in your first year. No one expects you to be perfectly polished."

"But," said Izuku, "I'm supposed to be the next you! I've got to stand out, right?"

Mr. Yagi looked very guilty. "I... may have given you that impression when we were first training, yes. But, since then, with all my research into the past holders... few of them were popular, flashy heroes. If you want to walk the same path as me, that's great. But you don't have to. Even I didn't really start that chapter of my life until after college."

Izuku looked down at his hands, letting silence fill the space between them as he contemplated Mr. Yagi's words. "This isn't about me manifesting One for All differently, is it?"

"What? No, no of course not, my boy. I mean, it certainly helped me come to this conclusion, I wouldn't have done so much research without it! But I certainly hope I would have come to the same conclusion eventually, even so."

"Okay..." said Izuku, still dubious.

"I mean it," protested Mr. Yagi. "Most of my work is essentially underground, you know. There's a reason the battle trial was what it was."

"H-huh? You? Underground? But you're so recognizable!"

"Am I? I firmly believe in bringing all my resources to bear in the fight against evil! Ha ha!"

His laugh devolved into a cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I guess that makes sense," said Izuku, cautiously, once he thought Mr. Yagi wasn't going to start coughing again.

"You didn't think I stayed number one by popularity alone, did you?"

"I- the formulas the Hero Commission uses to determine rankings are secret, and it only includes spotlight heroes, so when I extrapolated the hero billboard rankings, yes, I assigned a high weight to popularity. There were always some discrepancies between my predictions and the end results, but I figured I missed some events, or the commission assigned them different values…"

"That's quite impressive, my boy. But, though popularity is a factor, the HPSC does take unpublicized fights and rescues into account. Assuming you report them…"

That was the second time Mr. Yagi had mentioned not telling the commission something.

"Do you, um, do you do that a lot? Not tell the commission things, I mean."

"Eh? No, no, I try to stay up on my paperwork. I get a lot of help from Naomasa, though. Some heroes, especially independent ones, without an agency, do have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"It's just… the other day you said something about not telling the commission about All for One."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're quite right. How should I put this… The HPSC knows All for One exists, and I have made them generally aware of his modern exploits. I haven't told them about his ability to give quirks, though they may know through other avenues, there are certain battles I've had with him that I haven't told them about, and they do not know about One for All."

“Why not?”

“Villains aren’t the only ones who seek power,” said Mr. Yagi. “The HPSC provides a vital service, and I think what one does matters more than why one does it, but… it is my observation that many of the people there are more concerned with personal power than doing the right thing. And positions of power and authority tend to draw in those who would abuse those things."

"Even heroics?"

"Especially heroics. The HPSC Ethics Review Board is supposed to stop that, but no system is perfect." He shook himself. "But look at me! I was trying to give you a pep talk, not saddle you with doubts about the government!"

Izuku laughed, nervously. "I mean, you've definitely distracted me from the sports festival…"

“Yes. The sports festival. Don’t worry about making a big spotlight combat debut. If you want to focus on rescue, or investigation, or the underground, I’ll support you all the way.” He paused. “You do need combat, though, because, because of-”

“All for One?”

“Yes, exactly. All for One.”

.

“Way to kill the mood, guys,” said Banjo.

“I think the mood was thoroughly dead already,” said Yoichi.

“Unlike your brother,” said En. “Ninth’s father.”

“Come on, it was just a little omission of information. It wasn’t even a lie!”

“It was definitely a lie. You’re so lucky that my relief about you not being a pedophile eclipsed my righteous fury regarding your mendacity.”

“You know, the fact that you’re delivering that completely deadpan gives me doubts about the fury part.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” said Nana, making a ‘T’ shape with her hands. “Time out. Ninth’s father is All for One.”

“Yes,” said Yoichi, hanging his head, “I thought that had been established.”

“So, are we… What Toshinori is saying is completely valid, by the way… but, are we expecting this kid to fight his father? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Uh,” said Yoichi, “in our defense, we did think he was dead.”

“Maybe Eighth will get ‘im before Ninth has to deal with it,” suggested Banjo. “He’s got to have a better chance of that, now what with Fa Jin and all.” He paused. “But, you know what would give Ninth an even better chance, if he does have to fight his deadbeat dad-”

“He’s not a deadbeat,” interrupted Hikage.

“What?”

“Calling him a deadbeat would imply that he is neither supporting the Midoriyas financially nor regularly in contact with them. He is on both counts.”

“What?” squealed Bango.

“Did you miss his phone call with his father immediately following his return home after the USJ attack?”

“Oh,” said Yoichi, “no, I was very aware of my brother’s evil, evil voice. It’s just that these guys were too focused on scolding me to listen to anything I had to say. I still can’t believe he sent someone like that to attack his own son’s class.”

“Didn’t he, like, kill you?” asked En.

“No, my death was largely unrelated. You’ve got to remember, I was a chronically ill fugitive from the law with no money. Who told you that he killed me?”

Everyone looked at their immediate predecessor. Yoichi tracked the path back to Third, who had gone very stiff.

“What the heck, Third? You were there when I died. Why would you tell Hikage that?”

Third did not answer.

“Actually, what did he tell you, Hikage?

“Oh, it was very moving and heroic. It happened while you were saving a busload of metahuman orphans. You sacrificed yourself to let them get away from All for One. I even cried a little.”

“Is it weird that I’m now disappointed in myself for not dying like that?”

“Very,” said Nana.

“What were we talking about before this?” asked En.

“I have no idea,” said Banjo.

.

Izuku delayed going to class, nervous about everyone's reactions to his quirk. It wasn't that he thought they'd reject him, but more that he had no answers for the inevitable questions.

But he also didn't want to be late.

"Todoroki was so cool!" Hagakure exclaimed as he opened the classroom door. "He was all like, blam, bam, swish! And- and he checked whether or not I was there first, before attacking, which was super cool of him."

Todoroki's expression was halfway between 'statue' and 'help, I've been hit by a truck.' "Cool?"

"Very cool."

"You've grown since the first day, kero."

"Ah! Midoriya!"

All heads turned towards him. In the next second, he was hugged by several people, which was more friendly skin contact than he'd had since… ever, probably.

"Eep," he said.

"We were so worried about you," said Uraraka. "We made a group chat, after, but since you were unconscious…"

"Hm," said Monoma, "your quirk still is definitely a stockpile…"

"Monoma!" shouted Iida. "Did you join this hug just to copy quirks?"

"And what of it?"

"But speaking of quirks," said Jiro, "you can fly now? We kind of went along with it at the time, but that's kind of different from a sensory quirk."

"I know," said Izuku, "and I have no explanation."

"Maybe your quirk stockpiles danger," said Monoma, contemplatively. He rubbed his chin with one finger. "That could be why you can sense danger- you're stockpiling it. Then, when the danger gets over a certain threshold, you can release it as flight… why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," drawled Kaminari. "Just that you're more thoughtful than you look, pretty boy."

"I don't want to hear that from you."

"Th-thank you, Monoma! I'll have to mention it when I go to quirk counseling next."

Which may or may not be this afternoon, depending on how Mr. Aizawa felt and- His head snapped to the door. "Mr. Aizawa's coming!"

They all rushed to their seats. The door creaked open.

"Oh my gosh, he's a mummy."

.

"Iida?"

"What is it, Midoriya?"

They were having a bit of a break during English while Present Mic cycled them through for short sessions with Hound Dog.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you earlier, but how's your brother?"

“He’s alright! It’s the first really major injury of his career, so he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the month, to make sure his engines heal properly. He’d prefer not to of course, but, ah, there is a silver lining.”

“That’s good,” said Izuku, encouragingly.

“I really shouldn’t be happy about it,” said Iida, rubbing the back of his neck, “but he’ll be able to come see me during the sports festival, and he probably would have been too busy if he were active.”

“I think it’s okay to be happy about good things, even if they happen because of bad things,” said Izuku. “It isn’t like we can go back and make the bad things not happen, after all…”

“That’s very true, Midoriya! What a mature way of thinking about things.”

Izuku didn’t know about that, but he was willing to take the compliment.

.

“Midoriya,” said Shouta, who was absolutely and unquestionably recovered enough to teach. Even if he had zoned out in the corner of the room in his sleeping bag all morning rather than trekking back to the teacher’s lounge… or teaching any of his other classes… shut up. “What are you doing at the window?”

“O-oh. Mr. Aizawa. I didn’t know you were awake?”

It was, maybe, a little unfair to single Midoriya out like that, since the entire class was standing by the window, and the way Uraraka, Sero, and Midoriya were closest to it, with Monoma a close fourth, was concerning, but Midoriya was the first one Shouta saw, and the one most likely to to cave and tell him what was going on.

“Midoriya.”

“R-right. Well, going out the door seems a little unpleasant today, so we thought we’d switch it up?”

What did that even mean?

“We were going to bring you with us, of course,” continued Midoriya.

What did that even mean?

“Out the window.”

“Um. Yes.”

“What kind of unpleasant are we talking about?”

“Battle trial unpleasant?”

Shouta groaned and hauled himself up, walking over to the door. He looked out the window and made note of all the students from other classes standing out there, circling like sharks. Great. Maybe they needed to have an assembly about respecting boundaries or whatever, especially if the people whose boundaries were being crossed were potentially traumatized.

Something to bring up at the next staff meeting he attended. Which… would probably not be soon.

Anyway.

He opened the door.

(“A mummy,” whispered someone.)

(First his kids, then these kids… he wasn’t that wrapped up.)

(Was he?)

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, voice rasping rather more than he wanted it to.

The students didn’t seem inclined to answer. Someone did mutter something about the sports festival, but it was far from the complete answer that Aizawa wanted.

“Right. Whatever. Scoping out the competition is one thing, but you are aware that class 1-A is recovering from a traumatic experience. And you’re blocking traffic. Clear off.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Shouta sighed. He knew this would only be the first of many such incidents. He made a note to talk to Nemuri about whether or not she’d be willing to donate some of her class time to talk about public relations.

.

“You know,” said Nemuri, “if you actually rested, Recovery Girl would be able to heal you.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” said Shouta, glaring at his desk in the staff room. “I’m forgetting something.”

All Might walked in. “Er, young Aizawa,” he said. He paused for a painfully long, awkward moment. “Are you still meeting with young Midoriya today?”

“Crap.”

.

Did Izuku expect Mr. Aizawa to come to their meeting? No. The man had casts on all of his limbs. But, he hadn’t cancelled it either. So, better safe than sorry, right?

But it had been a while, now. Izuku could probably safely assume he wasn't coming after a half hour. He got up, packed his bags, and reached out for the door handle-

Only to freeze as Mr. Aizawa yanked it open and pulled Mr. Yagi into the classroom after him.

Izuku scurried back to his seat.

"Nothing physical today," croaked Mr. Aizawa. "We're going to figure out your quirk."

“O-okay,” said Izuku.

Aizawa collapsed into the seat behind the teacher's desk. “To be short, this quirk, One for All or whatever, is complete nonsense.”

“Uh,” said Mr. Yagi. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” whispered Izuku.

“You should be. Not you, Midoriya. You’re fine.”

“Okay?”

“Right. So. You’ve got two quirks right now. Danger Sense and Float. Unless something else showed up over the weekend?”

“No, it’s, um, it is just those two right now.”

“And you’ll most likely get Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and that strength enhancement eventually. Plus two mystery quirks.”

“That is what I’ve been able to find out,” said Mr. Yagi.

“So, we have to figure out some way to get all those under a coherent umbrella that can account for the mystery quirks, and before the sports festival, so the evil immortal supervillain doesn’t notice that you have quirks just like a bunch of people he had personal beef with.”

Mr. Yagi cursed in English. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, I wonder what else you haven’t thought about. Maybe this year I can get Nezu to take my suggestion about doing hero names before the sports festival seriously. You know we’ve had people stalk students before because for some godforsaken reason we use their real names? I need a drink.”

“Ah, water?”

“No.”

“Young Aizawa, you’re a teacher…”

“A career choice I question daily. Midoriya, do you have any thoughts about how to make your quirk make sense in a way that won’t get you killed or abducted by the HPSC?”

“I- Does that happen?” despite his conversation with Mr. Yagi over the weekend, he still had generally positive thoughts about the hero commission.

“I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well, um, I was talking to Monoma earlier, and he said something about stockpiling danger, and how it might let out the stockpile as the energy necessary to levitate- which, really, would be a fascinating quirk if it did work that way- but I thought it might also work for Smokescreen and the strength enhancement? I mean, general responses to danger are fight, flight, or hide, so the strength enhancement is fight, Float is flight, and Smokescreen would be hide…”

“That might work. What about Blackwhip.”

“Yeah, that one has kind of stumped me.”

“Blackwhip sure is a problem,” agreed Mr. Aizawa.

.

The ghosts started laughing. “You’re a problem, Banjo,” chortled Nana.

“Come on, guys, that isn’t funny!”

"It is! It's hilarious!"

"They were just talking about All for One tracking the kid down and killing him!"

The mood sobered quickly.

"Considering that he is Ninth's father," said Hikage, "I suspect it's far too late for that."

"Yeah," said Yoichi. "But, just to be safe, and in case there are other weirdos out there, new rule: no giving him new quirks in public. Not that we can do anything about when he eventually manifests the stockpile…"

"What if he's going to die?" asked Hikage, raising his hand.

"He already got your quirk, why do you care?"

"We'd like to hear it," said Banjo, somewhat forcefully.

"Well, if he looks like he's going to die, do whatever you can to stop that from happening, I guess. But chucking a quirk he doesn't know how to use isn't always going to be the beat answer."

"Wait," said Nana. "Hold up a second. A few days ago we were talking about the potential for multiple quirk brain damage, weren't we?"

"Oh, good catch," said Yoichi. "I guess I forgot to mention it, which means Nana is the only one I'd trust babysitting my nephew in the event a quirk rewound him to elementary school age-"

"That is a suspiciously specific scenario," said En.

"-and all the rest of you are fired. You didn't even question giving him more quirks? Really?"

Hikage raised his hand. "I assumed you had discovered that Ninth had a constitution capable of handling multiple quirks, similar to yourself and your brother."

"That is true. Okay, Hikage would be another exception, but he's disqualified from babysitting for other reasons."

"That's fair."

.

"So we need something that can do all that, and has tentacles," said Izuku, squeezing his bottom lip in thought.

"Yeah," said Mr. Aizawa. "Honestly, even really dumb ideas would be welcome right now."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"You know why."

There was only one creature Izuku could think of that could do all the things Izuku one day might be able to while maintaining room for the two mystery quirks. "Cthulhu."

Mr. Yagi looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion.

"Nah, it'd have to be something like eldritch. Cthulhu's trademarked in Japan, and that can give you aboveground types trouble."

"What is it a trademark for?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Ask Midnight. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi.

"The problem with that is that you currently have no justification to call it that. Now if you already had Smokescreen…"

The adults looked at him.

"... I don't think it's going to just show up like that," said Izuku.

.

"Why not?" asked Banjo, staring at En. "They practically asked you for it."

"Well, first off, I live for drama, so jot that down."

"Huh? What about me?" asked Yoichi.

"Nothing, it was just an idiom. Second…"

.

"...Right," said Aizawa. “For now, then, we’ll have to give it a temporary name, because it’s starting to get to the point in time where it’ll actually be illegal for you to not register it.” He shuffled his casts. “Yagi, start filling out those forms with what he can do currently. Midoriya, make sure you check him when he’s done. For now, we’ve got to come up with a name.”

“Um,” said Izuku. “Float’s the only one that’s really visible, so I could just call it Float?”

“Vetoed. You aren’t picking a name that the immortal supervillain knows.”

“He did seem to only refer to people by quirks unless he really hated them,” said Mr. Yagi. “Except his brother, who he always called ‘my foolish brother.’”

“Focus on the paperwork.”

“And he called himself by his quirk name as well,” mused Izuku. “Do you think it was a side effect? Quirks have document impact on people’s personalities-”

“Focus.”

“R-right. Um. Feather Fall? No, that’s part of a game. Flight Reflex?”

“Good enough for now,” said Aizawa. “Flight Reflex it is.”

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Cooler; Bucky Barnes x Reader

New Girl Inspired for @madjazzhatter

“I’m telling you, Buck, I’m not your cooler. Sure, a few times I might’ve been the reason you didn’t get some that once or twice, but 99% of the time it’s your own damn fault, Barnes.” It’s all true. He’s proving her point just by being himself right now, making one of those over the top faces he has and adjusting the collar of his coat. It’s not even his coat, she reminds herself.

“You’re both right, actually. Y/n, you have, on occasion, proven to be a terrible wingwoman. Purely awful. Bucky, you too have the tendency to, uh, discourage people from talking to you. I mean, you’re always frowning. You have a great smile, man, learn how to use it.” Bucky reaches across the sink and hits Steve upside the back of his head.

“Come on guys, we had a good vibe going. Let’s not have any infighting before tonight. Bucky, are you absolutely positive that that’s what you want to wear?” All three of them are standing in from of the bathroom mirrors, presumably making themselves look better to go to the bar at 5:30 in the afternoon, which is actually not that early for them.

“This coat makes me feel sexy.” Bucky does an awkward spin move, throwing up finger guns at himself in the mirror. Y/n rolls her eyes dramatically, patting Sam and Steve on the back before walking towards the door.

“Yeah, nothing says I’m a creep like a man in a women's trenchcoat,” add Sam. Y/n leans against the frame of the door, watching her boys make fools of fixing themselves in the mirror.

“So, just to be clear, you’re saying I can’t come tonight, right?”

They look at each other and shake their heads. “That’s fine, I have a lot of…things I need to do today anyway. You know, spoons to clean, yarn to yarn.”

“Gotta get that yarn yarned,” says Sam, practicing his facial expressions in the mirror and holding a thumbs up in the direction of y/n.

“See? You’re going to have a much better time here than you would have at the stinky old bar! We’re doing you a favor.” Bucky pats y/n on the head, earning himself a confused look.

She turns away from them, exiting the room just in time to hear Steve say, “You still work at that bar, Buck.”

They’re home within five minutes, and y/n is left to her own devices. There are times when she wishes that she had more nights like this, alone and able to do what she wants. Right now is not one of those times. It’s not that she doesn’t have things she can do, there just aren’t any things that she wants to do.

After fucking around for a little while, a noise at the door startles her. Her mind immediately goes to danger, causing her to call Peggy, even though she’s on a date, and Bucky, even though she was told that she was usually the downfall of his fun nights.

For some reason, Bucky answers his phone, but he sounds pissed about it. “Buck, you need to come home, there’s something at the door.”

“There’s nothing at the door, y/n. You know it’s an old building, maybe it has something to do with the pipes. You wouldn’t be worried if you listened to pipe talk during our loft meetings.”

“Those are boring. I’m surprised you listen to those talks.”

“They make me feel more like a man.” He pauses before continuing,”You know you’re being a cooler right now, right? Do you see it now?”

Yes, she thinks. She definitely see’s it now. “Just come home.”

Bucky, Steve, Sam, and two girls that are along for the ride arrive at the apartment. They find y/n curled up on the couch with their baseball bat, and she almost hits Steve when he comes into the room.

“So, this is our roommate y/n,” introduces Bucky. “And this is the place. Bathroom is down that hall… and so is basically everything else. Y/n, could you help me find some, uh, bottlecaps in the your room.”

“Sure, what kind? I have twist offs and the pop kind.”

“You know I’m not actually here about bottlecaps- actually it doesn’t matter. Listen to me. That girl out there, for some reason, is sexually attracted to sad men. You understand now fantastic that is for me.”

“Yeah, wow, that’s a goldmine. Now I feel partially responsible for your sex tonight, so I have an idea.” Bucky and I call everyone to meet in front of the couches, a cooler of beer beside us.

“The game is true american, but with a sexy new twist. Clinton rules! Everyone pick your interns and remember-“

The loft mates join in at this part, “The floor is lava!”

“Wait, this doesn’t make any sense. What are the rules? How do you play this?” The girl that Bucky brought asks.

“It’s easy. The floor is lava, doves versus hawks, the couch is the Mason-Dixon Line, no cabinets,” explains Steve helpfully, choosing the blonde, Carrie, as his partner.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Vanya, the girl that Sam brought, is sitting on the table and drinking, definitely not playing, but Sam seems happy talking to her.

The game goes as smoothly as a game with no rules can go. The loft is a mess, and most of us are missing various articles of clothes, which is a good sign for Bucky. Y/n, Steve, Carrie, and Y/n are all sitting at the table, different levels of intoxicated, trying to figure out who has to go behind the hallway door and kiss, a Y/n original idea that she’s positive will fix her spot as not a cooler. On the count of three they all put up numbers on their foreheads, chaos enduring between Steve and Bucky, both telling Carrie different numbers.

In all the confusion, on three, Y/n and Bucky end up with the same number, meaning that they have to kiss.

“Shit,” swears Bucky.

Y/n and Bucky look at each other, and say again, “Shit.”

“No, come on guys, let us out of here. This isn’t what I meant when I said kiss, I obviously meant, uh, a metaphorical poetic kiss. Don’t leave me back here with him!”

“Well,” says y/n, leaning back against the wall, sliding down to the floor next to Bucky, with his head in his hands. “I guess we should do this, then. They aren’t going to let him out of here anytime soon.”

“Yep. Let me just-“ Y/n stands up, while Bucky stays on the ground, crouching.

“What are you doing? I’m up here.”

“I thought we were staying on the ground.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with. Pucker up, Mr. Buck.” As soon as it’s out of her mouth, y/n grimaces, regretting a lot of things.

“Come on, don’t do that. You’re making it weirder than it already was.”

“Yeah, I regretted it immediately. I think this does prove that I’m your cooler.”

“Yeah, you think? It’s okay, Steve’s just gonna tell her about his heartbroken Peggy-struck heart. This might be the only time that he wants to be sadder than me.” They spend a few minutes arguing back and forth about various unimportant details, like if they’re going to stand or sit, where they’re going to put their hands, and if Bucky should be so nervous about this. At some point in time Bruce, y/n’s boyfriend, came along and decided to join the rest of them outside.

Finally, after the constant chanting of “kiss kiss kiss kiss” from the hallway to get to her, y/n says, “Come on, Buck, just be a man and kiss me!”

“No! Not like this.” His eyes go wide when he realizes what he just said, and he starts shaking his head before I even get my question out.

“What do you mean, not like this?” Bucky doesn’t give an answer, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He starts gesturing around wildly, trying to find something to say.

“No, I didn’t- it’s just not, like, you know- not like that.”

“Yeah, I’m out.” Before y/n can get another word in, Bucky is climbing out of the window. Without thinking, y/n yells at them to open the door, which they do. Steve and Sam are freaking out over Bucky, asking him all these questions, and Bruce is busy laughing about how Bucky would rather climb out of a window than kiss her. Luckily, Peggy is still thereto try and help her understand what’s happening.

Things dial down after that. Steve and Sam give Bucky a firm talking to and a night to think of over, and y/n goes to sleep alongside Bruce. She’s awoken in the middle of the night gm the same scratching that she heard earlier, so she goes to investigate.

Bucky must’ve heard it too, because he’s right there beside her with the baseball bat. Apparently their new neighbor has a dog that’s been causing all of the problems. It’s also the place where Bucky’s coat was supposed to go. As far as their neighbors go, it’s not the worst interaction they’ve had. This one only thinks they wear other people’s clothes and carry around bats.

“So, I guess you didn’t need to come over. Sorry I ruined your night.” They walk back to the hallway together, arms brushing against each other.

“Nah, it was probably for the best. French coat Bucky had a lot of unearned confidence, lot of random dance moves.”

They stand facing each other, y/n looking up into Bucky’s eyes. “Goodnight Buck.”

“Night, Y/n.” Bucky leans in, encouraged by y/n leaning in too. They’re lips touch, the kiss passionate and all at once. Bucky’s hands are in her hair, and as soon as they break appear she misses the touch.

“I meant a little something like that.”

This was so much fun to write! I love to concept of a new girl based au, feel free to send more of this or any other requests.

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

Lie For Me (part IV of V) (Part I) (Part II) (Part III)

Pairing - Modern!Ben Solo x Reader

Summary - You haven’t heard anything from Ben Solo, and you can’t figure out why. It takes a run in with Han, a forced doorstep conversation, and a confrontation in a bar for you to get any answers. Once you do, you’re even more confused than you were to start with. 

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - Language and a small bit of violence, but that’s it! 

It had been over a week since you had heard from Ben Solo. 

You tried not to let that fact bother you. In fact, you didn’t have time to let it bother you, because you were starting your new job today. 

The job that Ben had helped you get. 

That was unimportant though. You had your dream job, and you weren’t going to mess it up for anything. So it was time to focus and prove how you deserved to be here. You wore your favorite outfit, woke up early to make sure you had enough time to get a coffee, and arrived at the bottom floor with ten minutes to spare. 

“Someone’s trying to make a good impression.” A voice from behind you said. 

You turned around with a smile, happy to see a now familiar face. Vic had joined the company at the same time as you, and the two of you had done all of your training together. You got along rather well, and it reassured you to see him first thing this morning. “I could say the same for you. Are you ready for today?” You asked. 

“Ready as can be. Want to walk up together? I want to see the new office.” He teased you. 

Grinning at him, you nodded. It was a new perk that you enjoyed, having your own office, and you couldn’t deny you were eager to show it off. You led him there, discussing random things in your life until you reached it, unlocking the door and leading him inside. 

“Wow, those are some nice flowers.” He said as he caught sight of the large bouquet sitting in the middle of your desk. Flowers that hadn’t been there the last time you left this room. 

While he explored the rest of your space, you walked over, curious as to where they had come from. When you saw the card that said, “Good luck on your first day.” You assumed that they had to have come from one of your friends, but when you flipped the card over, your stomach plummeted to see the name Ben on the other side. 

This man was really going to ignore you for a week, and then send you flowers for your first day at work and act like nothing was different? A flicker of irritation went through your body, and you placed the card down on your desk. 

Vic called your name, and it took him doing it twice before you heard him. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I was asking if you wanted to go get drinks after work. Celebrate surviving the first day?” He asked, biting his bottom lip as he waited for your response. 

It would be so easy to say yes. You should say yes. You liked being around him, and you knew that he was good company. There was nothing stopping you.

Except for the damn card sitting on your desk and haunting you. 

“I - uh, can I take a rain check?” You asked, sending him a small smile. “I already have plans tonight with some friends.” It wasn’t a lie . . . but you . . . you couldn’t do it. Besides, if someone saw you with a guy who wasn’t Ben, and the word somehow got around to Ben’s parents who thought you were dating . . . 

Even though the relationship was fake, you liked Han and Leia. You didn’t want them to think any less of you. 

“Sure,” He said, shrugging his shoulders, and to his credit, didn’t seem disappointed at all. “I will be taking you up on that raincheck sometime.” Vic added as he started to back out of your office heading to his own work station. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You said with a smile, waving to him as he closed the door. After he left, you glanced at the clock, and  you realized that you had a couple of minutes until work started.

And that card still sat on your desk. 

You didn’t even think about what you were doing. In seconds, you had your phone out of your pocket, and had selected Ben’s name in your contacts, bringing it up to your ear as it began to ring. Of course, the longer he took to answer it, the more you thought about what a bad idea this must be. But after about four rings, he did answer, his hello rough and low in your ears. 

“Hey, um,” it was a startling revelation to realize that you were kind of nervous. For as long as you had known Ben Solo, you had felt several different emotions around him, but never had you been so anxious to hear his voice. “I - I got your flowers.” 

There was a pause, but only a moment. “I ordered those a couple of weeks ago. I apologize for not cancelling them.” 

“Cancelling them?” Your brow furrowed together as you sat down in your chair, frowning. The two of you were supposed to be dating, and your boss knew that. Why would he have wanted to stop them? Plus . . . they were beautiful, and you had spotted several of your favorite flowers in the arrangement. 

He didn’t give you a chance to ask anything else though. “Someone walked into my office. I’ll talk to you later,” and without waiting for you to say a word, he hung up. 

You looked down at your phone in disbelief at the sudden dismissal, and leaned back in your chair with an annoyed sigh. 

What the hell was going on with him? 

____________________

It was a full week before you found out what had happened. You  had decided to take your lunch break at a nearby park since the weather was nice. You were sitting and enjoying your sandwich when a large, brown mass of fur ran and jumped on you, knocking your food out of your hand and licking all over your face. 

At once a huge smile formed, and you began petting the large dog. “Well, hi there, Chewy. It’s nice to see you too.” You said through your laughter. 

“Get off you fuzzball!” Han’s annoyed voice called, and you glanced up to see the  man in question running in your direction, stopping once he realized who you were. “Oh, hey,” he said, and you watched as he ran a hand through his hair, “sorry about him.” 

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, giving him an encouraging smile that seemed to put Han more at ease. “I’ve missed the troublemaker.” You said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “I hope there haven't been any more attempts at escape?” 

Han let out a chuckle and sat down beside you on the bench. “Not yet, but I’m sure they’re coming. Damn dog’s almost more trouble than he’s worth.” 

You let out a chuckle of your own, turning your smile to the dog in question. “Well, if you ever need any help catching him, let me know. I wouldn’t mind helping out.” 

At your words, Han gave you a confused look. “You wouldn’t?” 

“Of course not. Why would I?” You asked, giving him your own unsure look. 

Han shifted around in his seat, his brow furrowed as he responded, “Since you and Ben broke up I thought -”

Everything else he said was muted in your head. It felt like you were underwater, your brain trying to catch up with his words. Ben had told his parents that the two of you had broken up? Without even telling you? You understood that there probably wasn’t a reason to keep the ruse going any longer, but a head’s up would have been nice so there wasn’t an awkward situation like this. Now you were scrambling for something to say, and Han was looking at you like he was waiting for you to speak. “Oh, um, right.” 

Thankfully, it seemed your confusion worked in your favor as Han gave you a sympathetic look and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Listen kid, give him time to come to his senses. My son’s got a stubborn side, that he got from his mother of course,” You couldn’t help but give him a small smile at that. “But I can tell he cares a lot about you. He just needs a minute to get his head on straight.” 

Ignoring the way Han’s words made your heart stutter, you nodded. “Yeah . . . maybe that’s all he needs.” 

____________________

This was a bad idea. 

Ever since you had talked to Han this afternoon, his words had echoed in your head, and you hated it. You had never been the type of person to spend hours thinking about a guy’s motives behind his actions, but now it seemed as if your brain could do nothing else. All during work you had been distracted, and that was not how you wanted to be when you were still new. So you weren’t going to let it continue. If Ben wasn’t going to give you any closure on what the two of you had gone through, you would make him. 

Sitting on the porch of his apartment with Poe probably wasn’t the best way to get it, but it was the first thing that you had thought of. 

You had a general idea of what time he came home, and thankfully you had only been sitting there for about an hour when you heard footsteps on the stairs. Your heart did an odd little stutter and anxiety filled your chest as you stood up, but you brushed it aside as best you could, determined to get some answers. 

He was startled to see you, that much was easy to see, but almost as soon as you read it, it was gone, a blank mask replacing the expression as he shrugged his bag higher up on his shoulder. “Are you waiting for Poe? He’s going to be late tonight.” 

“Waiting for -” You gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not. I’m waiting for you. Thought it might be a good idea to talk where your work couldn’t interrupt you.” 

“Well, you’ve never been here to see me, so I thought Poe was the logical conclusion.” Ben said, walking up the remaining steps and beginning to unlock the door. 

A flicker of irritation started to form in your heart, and you clenched your fists at your side. “I ran into Han today.” Even with his back to you, you saw the tension form in his shoulders. “If I had time to prepare, I would have brought a box of your things to return.” 

Ben turned back to look at you then, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess I should have sent you an email. I told them last weekend.” 

“An email?” You repeated, your mouth almost dropping in disbelief. “Is that what I’ve been reduced to now? Not even worthy of an email?” 

He shrugged his shoulders as if his words hadn’t cut into your chest like a knife. “I didn’t expect you to run into my parents anytime soon. I apologize for that. I decided since we both got what we wanted, there wasn’t any need to keep lying.” 

“Don’t you think I should have had some sort of say in -” You started to say, but he cut you off. 

“In what? Our transaction?” 

The breath was robbed from your lungs. You had come here for closure, trying to discern his behavior, and with those words, you had gotten what you wanted. If, no matter everything the two of you had shared, all he saw from this was a transaction? It was obvious where his ‘caring’ feelings stood. 

If only you had been able to keep the same mindset. 

You couldn’t stand to look at him for any longer, knowing what you knew now. You wouldn’t dare let him see how much those simple words had affected you. You wouldn’t let yourself appear weak. “I would have liked a head’s up. That’s all, but you’re right. Whatever we had should end. It was going on for too long anyway.” You said, trying to match his tone. You picked up your bag from the ground, placing it over your shoulder. “Let Poe know I’m sorry I missed him.” You said, and without another word, turned on your heel and headed back to your car. 

A part of you, no matter how small, hoped that he would call you back, run to you and spin you around, kissing you like he had that day in the bathroom, like you were something precious that might slip through his fingers . . . but he didn’t. 

And you didn’t let the tears fall until you were safely in your car. 

 ____________________

It was a lot easier to say what happened between you and Ben hadn’t affected you than to believe it yourself. However, you didn’t think you were that convincing in the first place. Rey and Finn could sense something was wrong. It was obvious in the way that watched your every move, and came up with things to do to keep your mind occupied. You appreciated it, but you hated the fact that they even had to do it in the first place. In fact, you hated that you had let Ben Solo have any affect on you at all. 

Which was why you resolved to not let him have any more. 

“We don’t have to do this, you know.” Rey said as the three of you walked into one of your favorite bars, arms all linked together. 

“We can go back to your apartment, watch the Office again, and order takeout?” Finn suggested. 

“Guys,” you shot them a stern look, one after the other. “I want to be out. I want to do things, and most importantly . . .” You pulled away from them with a smirk, glancing around the bar. “I want to get laid.” 

“You want to . . . what?” Rey asked. 

You turned your attention back to her, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ve been stuck in a stupid fake relationship for like three months where I wasn’t getting any, and I’ve been working hard on this new job. I think I’ve earned a bit of stress relief.” 

Finn and Rey exchanged glances. “Of course, if that’s what you want.” Finn said, shrugging his shoulders. 

What you really wanted was to get the sensation of Ben Solo’s lips off of yours, and this was the quickest way to do that. 

Right? 

“Yes, this is what I want.” You reassured them, reaching out to grab both of their arms and tug them towards the bar. “Now let’s get some drinks. First round is on me.” 

____________________

It turned out finding someone to have a good time with was a lot harder than you thought it was going to be. Over the course of two hours, you had talked to around five guys, none of the conversations lasting more than twenty minutes, for purely, you would admit, shallow reasons on your behalf. 

One had the most annoying laughter you had ever heard. Another wouldn’t stop saying “really?” every other sentence. Then there was the guy who had smaller hands than you. If it wasn’t going bad enough, then you met the man who wouldn’t stop smiling with too big of a grin, and after talking to the last one, you realized what was holding you back. 

None of them made your heart race like Ben. 

“I’ve never seen someone looking so miserable at a bar.” A voice said as a body slid in beside you. 

You recognized it at once, turning to give Vic a genuine smile. “Well, I am about to run low on my drink.” You teased him. 

“Guess I’ve got to fix that.” He said, returning your smile as he gestured to the bartender. 

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean -” You tried to stop him, your face growing hot, but he shook his head. 

“You owe me a raincheck remember?” Vic said. 

“All right,” You agreed, watching as he turned back to the bartender and noticing for the first time how nice his eyes were. 

Maybe this night was finally starting to turn around. 

Three drinks later, you found yourself leaning against Vic’s side, snorting with laughter as he told you, Finn and Rey about the most embarrassing first day of a job he’s ever had. “So you just took off?” Rey said, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. 

“Didn’t say a word?” Finn asked, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Vic shrugged his shoulders. “Boss told me to get out of there. So that’s what I did.” He said, taking another sip of his drink. 

“You’re terrible. I can’t believe they hired you.” You teased him, bumping his shoulder. 

“Neither can I.” A low voice interrupted from behind you, a voice that made you freeze in your spot. If you hadn’t known by the voice, the looks on Rey and Finn’s faces told you at once that Ben Solo was standing behind you. 

You didn’t want to turn around. You didn’t want to look at him because you didn’t know if you could control your expression. Your heart was already pounding heavy in your chest, and if you looked at him . . . 

“Well, if it isn’t Ben Solo.” Vic said, and you glanced at him to find a rather callous grin on his face. A look that you had never seen, and had no desire to see again. 

As soon as you saw it, you couldn’t help it any longer, and looked behind you to Ben who had an equally unpleasant expression on his own face as he stared at Vic. 

It was at that moment that you realized the two of them must know each other. 

And not in a good way. 

You glanced back at Finn and Rey who were looking as confused as you did as they watched the exchange. Rey shrugged her shoulders and Finn raised his eyebrows, so clearly they had no idea what was going on either. 

Turning back to look at Ben, you felt a shiver roll down your spine. You had seen Ben angry several times. Your mind flashed back to that first night the two of you had pretended to be, ‘dating’, when you had overheard those girls talking about you in particular. The burning rage in his eyes almost seemed tame now compared to the look that he was giving Vic. “What are you doing here?” He asked, venom leaking from his tone. 

“Having a drink with a coworker.” He said, and did he lean even closer to your side or were you imagining it? 

Nope. You hadn’t imagined it, because as soon as you noticed it, it seemed Ben did too. His jaw tensed so hard it looked as if it had turned to stone. The fire in his eyes turned them even darker, a dangerous black, as his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Coming to get my girlfriend.” Ben hissed through his lips. 

You barely had time to stutter out the word, “girlfriend?” before Ben had hauled you up out of your chair and wrapped his arm around you. At once, Finn stood up, ready to intervene, but you shook your head at him, not wanting him or Rey involved in whatever this show of testosterone this was. 

“Ah, didn’t know she was your girlfriend considering the way she’s been flirting -” Vic started to say, but you cut him off. 

“Excuse me? If I was flirting with you -”

“Come on, we’re going.” Ben said, tightening his grip around you and tugging you along with him as he headed to the entrance of the bar. 

You thought about struggling. You thought about turning and screaming at him, and you thought about getting out of his arm, running back to the table, and planting one on Vic’s lips right then and there because it was clear how much that would piss Ben off. But you did none of those things, waving Finn and Rey off once more as they both stood to follow you, and allowed yourself to be taken outside where the two of you were alone. 

And then you turned around and let him have it. “What the hell, Solo?!” You yelled, shoving his arm off of you. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, but now that Vic’s involved I am?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

To your indignation, he ignored every word you said to him. “What the hell were you doing hanging out with him?! He’s bad news.” Ben said, sounding every bit as furious as you did. 

Which made no sense. “Bad news?” You let out a laugh lacking humor. “Guess he was fooling me, because other than Finn and Poe, he’s the only guy that’s been even somewhat nice to me.” You took a step towards him, invading his personal space. “He doesn’t treat me like a caveman dragging me around everywhere. He doesn’t avoid me. He doesn’t act like I have the plague after I kiss him!” You yelled, punctuating each sentence with a poke to his heaving chest. 

If you hadn’t been staring into his eyes with such intensity you would have missed it. The flash of pain that was gone within a blink of his eyes and replaced with that fiery fury. “You’ve kissed him?” He hissed. 

Out of all the things you had said, that was what he had picked up on? You weren’t sure whether you wanted to cry, laugh, scream or a combination of all three. “No, you asshole! I haven’t kissed anyone or anything since your stupid lips!” 

He looked relieved. 

And it just riled you up more. “You know what? Maybe I should give it a shot. He’s got some nice, kissable lips, might even be a good lay too -”

The breath left your lungs in a whoosh as you found yourself pinned between the cold stone of the building and Ben’s blistering, towering body. Shocked by the sudden movement, you looked up at him, but found the breath gone from your lungs once more. You had been trying to piss him off, make him as angry as you were, and there was no doubt he was from the absolute tension that lingered throughout his whole body. When you stared into his eyes though, you saw something you had never seen there. 

Fear. 

“Stay away from him. You’ll get hurt.” Ben said, his hands gripping your wrists in a tight grip as if waiting for you to haul off and run back in there to him. 

Which a part of you wanted to do, to piss him off, but the biggest part of you was more curious as to why he even cared. After all that talk about  the deal between the two of you being over, what should it matter to him if you got into a relationship that would end badly? “Quit bossing me around like you give a shit what happens to me.” You said, trying to sound as vicious as possible. 

Ben’s grip tightened on your wrist, his eyes tracing over all of the features on your face and leaving heat in their wake. “You think I don’t care about you? Every second of every day I’m fighting not to think about you.” He told you, equal amounts of anguish and anger in his voice. “What you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’re at that stupid restaurant with the bad breadsticks that you inist are the best in town -”

“T-that’s because they are.” You stuttered, your mind not able to comprehend the rest of the words he was saying yet. 

“Don’t ever, think for one second, that I don’t care about you.” Ben said, giving your wrists one more squeeze, and then letting them go. 

You watched as he turned and took a step away from you. At that moment, you were stricken with the realization that this could be it. If you didn’t say something right this second, nothing might ever come of you and Ben. 

There was no way you could let that chance pass you by. 

“Then why are you pushing me away?!” You called out to him, making him freeze. “Ben, I . . .” You took a deep breath, forcing the terrifying words to leave your mouth. “I want to be with you. Not in a fake relationship, but a real one.” You said, wrapping your arms around yourself as you took a step forward. 

Ben didn’t move, and kept his gaze locked on the ground in front of him when he spoke. “You think that you want that -”

“No. You’re wrong. No matter how big of an asshole you’ve been . . .” You said, shaking your head. “I know it’s what I want. I thought it that night when we were looking for Chewy, and I knew it when I kissed you. I know you felt it too.” You insisted, even though you knew no such thing, not anymore at least, but you had to hope. “Stop fighting your feelings.” 

You felt the tension release somewhat as he turned to look at you, but his face was so, so insecure that it took your breath away. Even more so when his hand, with the most gentle touch, cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. You closed your eyes as you felt him draw closer, his forehead resting against yours, his lips so close you could almost taste them. “Why do you always push?” Ben said, but it sounded more like a plea than a question. 

His lips brushed yours, and you knew, without a doubt, you couldn’t do it. If you let him kiss you, you wouldn’t have the strength to stand firm on what you wanted, what you needed. Your hand rested against his chest, exerting enough pressure to stop him. “Don’t,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Don’t kiss me unless you’re willing to open up to me too.” You opened your eyes, gazing into his intense dark brown ones. “I can’t take it if you don’t.” 

Ben’s eyes closed, almost as if he couldn’t take the emotion in yours. You waited breathlessly for him to say something, do something, and finally he opened his mouth - 

Vic called your name from behind Ben, and your eyes flickered over his shoulder to see him, Rey and Finn a few feet behind, all watching the exchange. “Are you okay?” He asked, but you got the feeling he didn’t care. He just wanted to rile Ben up. 

It worked. As if that switch had been flipped, Ben took a step away from you, turning around to glare at Vic, hiding your body with his own. “She’s fine.” He answered for you. “Now get out of here.” 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Vic snapped, moving so that he could look at you. “You all right, Sweetheart?” 

“I’m fine,” You answered, annoyed at him for interrupting and annoyed at Ben for letting Vic get to him. “I’m ready to go.” You called to Rey and Finn who nodded and went back inside to get your stuff. 

“Do you need a ride to your place?” Vic asked, and before you could say no, Ben answered for you. 

“I’m sure she can get home fine.” Ben hissed, moving to step between the two of you again. 

Vic smirked, taking a step even closer and holding his hand out to you. “He sure is possessive of you isn’t he? I promise if you stick with me, you won’t have to deal with that.” 

Ben stepped forward and good God was he menacing, towering over Vic, who was not short either. Everything about him in that moment screamed dangerous, and you found yourself wanting to take a step back yourself. “If you try to touch her again, you’re going to regret it.” Ben growled, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Ben!” You said, shocked by how angry he was getting when Vic was clearly trying to irritate him for God knows what reason. 

“What are you going to do about it, Solo? Wimp out like last time?” He glanced at you, and then looked back at Ben. “Does she even -”

It happened so fast you almost missed it. One minute Vic was taunting him, the next he was on the ground, clutching his nose, blood hitting the concrete beneath him. “Ben! What the hell?!” You gasped as soon as you realized what he had done, hurrying around him to Vic to check and see if he was okay. “Are you okay?” You asked him, trying to see how bad he was hurt. 

Vic nodded, glaring up at Ben, but didn’t say anything else. 

Biting your lip, you looked up at Ben who was still staring at Vic with poorly concealed fury. “You need to get out of here.” You told him. 

That’s when Ben turned his attention to you, disbelief on his face. “What?” 

Did you want him to go? No, you didn’t, but you couldn’t ignore what he had done. He needed time to calm down, and he wasn’t going to get that here, with Vic hanging around. You couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t goad him into another fight, and that was the last thing that needed to happen right now. “Go, Ben.” You insisted. “Get your head on straight.” You said, the words having more meaning than one. 

You couldn’t miss the flash of hurt that crossed his face, but then it was replaced by something almost worse. He almost seemed . . . resigned. Like he had expected you to order him away, and he wasn’t surprised that you had finally done it. Your brow furrowed, and you started to say something else, but before you could, he had turned and walked away, his hands clenched into fists at his side. 

As soon as he was gone, you turned to look at Vic who was staring after him with a clenched jaw. “Listen, I’m sorry about him, he’s -”

“He’s a dick,” Vic spat, moving away from you and standing up, “and if he’s your boyfriend, you don’t have a fucking idea what kind of person that he is.” 

Your eyes widened at the venom in his tone, and you watched as he stomped away as well, so distracted by his words that you didn’t even notice Finn and Rey coming up behind you. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Finn asked, rubbing your back with his warm hand. 

Sighing, you let yourself lean against his shoulder while Rey took your hand. “Not even remotely.” You admitted. “Can we just go back to my place and watch the Office like you guys suggested, and I can pretend I’m crushing on a Jim Halpert instead of a hot head who punched someone and won’t let me in?” 

Rey squeezed your hand with a reassuring smile. “You’re on.”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Happy Holidays - BTS Style

OT7 Imagine/Reactions

Hey guys! I thought it’d be fun to to an ot7 holiday oneshot with all the members! So the following are seven different prompts from my prompt list with the seven members! Enjoy, and happy holidays!

18. “Why are you still up?” - Jin

Christmas Day had passed and gone, you were sitting in the middle of the front room staring up at the lights on the Christmas tree. Tomorrow would mean it was time to take everything down and prepare for the new year.

“Why are you still up?”

Jin enters the room wearing his new fluffy robe you had bought him more as a joke than anything; but he insisted on wearing it all day. 

You shrug, keeping your eyes glued on the beautiful Christmas tree. “Just enjoying the last few minutes of Christmas.”

Jin comes up beside you, settling on the floor and sitting shoulder to shoulder. Grabbing a blanket from off the sofa he wraps it around the two of you, pulling you into his chest. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Jin’s voice is soft as he studies your face, visibly relaxing when he sees that you aren’t upset. Just contemplative. 

Snuggling in closer to him, you laugh lightly. “Depends...did you bring snacks?”

Jin sighs, his hand delving into the deep pockets of his robe and pulling out a chocolate orange. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Sneaking a peck to his cheek, you giggle at how his cheeks redden in the dim light of the room. “Love you, too.”

20. “Merry Christmas, bub.” - Yoongi

It’s no secret that Min Yoongi doesn’t enjoy waking up early in the morning, and Christmas is no exception. That’s what he told you last night as you rolled out a sleeping bag in the front room, deeming it a perfect night to sleep before the Christmas tree. 

You realized fairly soon that the hardest part wasn’t convincing him to sleep out on the floor - it was getting him to wake up in the morning. 

You’d been patient, waiting until at least 7 before trying to wake him up. At first, he didn’t even budge. You poked and prodded at his puffy cheeks until he groaned, turning the other way. 

“Yoooongi,” you coo, laughing as he dives further into his sleeping bag. “Min Yoooongi!”

Yoongi groans again, kicking at his sleeping bag until he can see your smiling face. He frowns back up at you.

“Whadda you want?”

A glance at the time shows that it’s already 7:30, obviously time to get things rolling. “It’s Christmas, Yoongs! Get up, we’ve got to eat and open presents! We’re supposed to be over at Jin’s by 10-”

Yoongi wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him until you’re squished up against his chest. “Five more minutes.”

“But-”

Tipping your chin up, Yoongi dusts a kiss over the tip of your nose. “Merry Christmas, bub.”

Rolling your eyes, you give in, already beginning to keep time in your head. “Yeah yeah. Merry Christmas.”

6. “Snuggle season is the best season.” - Hoseok

“Is there any left?”

Hoseok peeks inside the giant pot of hot chocolate. “Yeah, you want a refill?”

I nod, handing over my giant mug that he gifted me earlier in the day. Hoseok makes a show of ladling the chocolatey drink into my mug, yelping when a bit hops out and nearly lands on his new sweater. 

“It’s out to get me!” He declares, handing me the drink with a wary glance. I can’t help but laugh, shrugging as I walk away. We’ve just started “The Polar Express” as a nice way to wrap up our Christmas. 

Hoseok steps over the couch from the back, making me hiss as he plops down beside me, nearly making me spill. “Hobiii,’ I mumble, carefully setting my hot chocolate down on the side table. 

“Whoops,” he nuzzles in close to me. “Sorry.”

The movie unfolds before us as we watch on and comment on different things we enjoy about the movie. 

“See, this is why winter is the best season,” I say. “I mean, what other season is so cozy? Just sitting and watching feel-good movies, drinking hot chocolate-”

“...snuggling....” Hobi mumbles under his breath, keeping both eyes glued to the screen. 

I raise my eyebrows. “...yes. Snuggling. But you can snuggle whenever.”

Hoseok shrugs, snuggling in even closer to me. “Yeah, but this is the season of snuggles.”

Laughing, I brush his hair away from his eyes and watch as they widen as the movie. “Is that your main point for why winter in the best? How on earth would you defend that in a debate?”

Giving me a quick glance before returning his attention to the movie, I refrain from laughing as Hoseok is clearly a bit embarrassed.

“It’s easy. Snuggle season is the best season.”

Dropping my head against his shoulder, I go back to watching the movie. “Can’t argue with that.”

I can feel Hobi’s grin even though I can’t see him. “My point exactly.”

2. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?” - Namjoon

Sitting amidst the piles of wrapping paper and ribbons, I look across the room to where Namjoon sits in a similar situation. 

“Merry Christmas.”

Namjoon grins, grabbing a garbage bag and starting to shove the wrapping paper inside. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet today, we’ll be meeting up with everyone else later in the day. For now, I’m content to sprawl out on the sofa with my new book that Namjoon got me. It’s a riveting true story, one that deals with betrayal, plot twists, and adrenaline inducing scenes. 

Namjoon sets up camp on the opposite sofa, immediately diving into his new book as well. It’s a self-help book that he’s been going on and on about for weeks - he made it all too easy to pick out his Christmas gift. 

The low tones of Christmas music playing from our speaker are the only sounds besides the occasional rustle of a page being turned. My book takes me on a ride, and before I know it hours have passed and I’m right in the middle of the action. 

Namjoon breathes deep as though reviving from a deep sleep, looking over at me from where he lays on the couch. “We should probably get going.”

Reluctantly setting my book down, I nod. “Does this mean that I actually have to get ready?” Namjoon throws back his head and laughs, completely understanding the sentiment as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. 

“Nope. I’m not going to, at least. You look great anyways.”

A few warm layers and a cold car later, Namjoon and I sing along to a few songs on the radio as we head across town. As the songs begin to change, I fall silent. Coming to a stop at a red light, I begin to ponder my book.

My face must reflect my contemplative state perfectly, because Namjoon chuckles beside me. “What are you thinking about?”

Blinking at him, I frown. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?”

Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to blink at me. The light turns green, so I continue to drive, starting to wonder if I sounded a bit strange. 

Once we’ve pulled into Jin’s driveway, I turn off the car and face Namjoon. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Namjoon lets out a startled laugh, looking at me with bright eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize that I never answered you. I was...busy.”

Furrowing my brows I hop out of the car, Namjoon linking my arm through his as we make our way up the sidewalk. 

“Busy? With what?”

Namjoon’s head is pointed down as he grins, his dimple making an appearance. “I was busy falling in love with you all over again.”

My eyes grow wide before I burst out into laughter, Namjoon following suit. “You love me because of murder?” 

Namjoon nods his head. “Definitely. What more could I want?”

Rolling my eyes, I see that everyone is already inside Jin’s apartment. “You...wow. We’re messed up.”

Namjoon winks at me. “In the best way.”

7. “Your toes are like ice blocks! Noooo stop touching me!!” - Jimin

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Jimin comes huffing and puffing inside the house, tearing off his beanie and scarf as he spots me. Taehyung and Hoseok trail in after him. 

“I assume you had fun?”

Jimin laughs, his entire face lighting up as he begins to recount everything that happened on their sledding adventure. 

“...and then Tae fell off his sled and literally rolled down the rest of the mountain! I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life.” Indeed, he’s in the process of wiping tears from his eyes as he finishes his tale, the other two boys having disappeared into the kitchen where the promise of food proved to be too much of a temptation. 

I chuckle at the mere sight of Jimin, his cheeks still red from the cold and his eyes wide. “Sounds like a good afternoon.”

He nods, sliding onto the couch and laying down. He stretches his legs until he’s pushing against mine. I immediately hiss and retract my feet as his cold toes brush up against me. 

“Your toes are like ice blocks!” I shriek, only making Jimin tuck his toes under my legs in an effort to warm them up. “Noooo stop touching me!!” Jimin’s evil laugh rings in my ears as I glare at him, promptly standing up to go to a different couch. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Jimin shouts, launching off the couch and pulling me back down in a pile on top of him. “If you really love me, you’ll help me warm up.”

I snort. “Put some socks on! I’m not sacrificing my body heat for you!”

“Wait, so you don’t love me?” Jimin’s puppy dog eyes are hard to ignore; especially when he still has me locked in his arms. 

“Gahhh you know that’s not what I-”

“Well then say it if you-”

“C’mon Chim, just go put some socks on!”

Jimin shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m alright like this, thanks.”

Wriggling around until I finally break free of his grasp, I roll onto the floor with a triumphant shout. Jumping up and sprinting into Jimin’s room, I hurry back with a pair of thick socks, taking the opportunity to throw them at Jimin who remains on the couch. 

He shouts when the socks hit him on the side of the head. “Hey! What was that for?”

Coming up behind the couch, I begin playing with his messy hair. “That’s how I say ‘I love you’. Didn’t you like it?”

Jimin laughs as he slips his socks on. “It was perfect. But maybe we could take a less violent approach next time?”

I shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” 

19. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” - Taehyung

You’ve been out searching for over two hours, so your state of mind isn’t necessarily the best when you finally roll into the apartment at nearly ten o’clock at night. 

Taehyung tends to be spontaneous - he has an affinity for sending you out on random adventures at the most inconvenient time - but tonight it was just cold enough to have you in a frustrated mood by the time you got back. 

Kicking your shoes off in the entryway, you’re just about to yell out that you’ve returned when you realize that all is not as you left it. 

The lights are darker, soft Christmas music is playing, and is that a poinsettia on the dining table?

Just as you’re standing there in wonder, Taehyung rounds the corner. He wearing a deep green sweater, just nice enough to tip you off. 

“Ah, you found some flowers!” He gushes, rushing over to you and taking the beautiful flowers that you just bought from your grasp. When he’d begged you earlier to go out and buy some fresh flowers, you certainly didn’t expect to be returning to this. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” You ask, still a little angry that Tae just sent you on a wild goose chase all around Seoul. Wandering into the dining room as though in a dream, the air is effectively knocked out of you when you see just what he’s prepared. 

Taehyung’s voice drifts in from the kitchen, where he’s putting the flowers in a vase. “I know, that’s why I sent you away! I knew it’d take you a while, and I had to get everything set up.”

It’s a wonder that he was able to get everything set up and ready to go in just a couple of hours. The entire dining room is decked out in candles, beautiful placements, and a few wrapped presents lying around. 

“Where’s everyone else?” You wonder aloud. After all, this is the shared apartment between all seven boys. Taehyung brushes past you, standing before the table and debating whether he should replace the poinsettia with the fresh flowers or leave it be. 

“Oh, they’re gone tonight. I convinced them to...get lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, your frustration from earlier dissolving as you watch Taehyung place the fresh flowers on a side table. 

“Ok, the food will be here any minute-”

“Tae.”

The man in question turns to face you, pure innocence spelled across his face. “Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Taehyung chuckles, realizing that he’s kept you in the dark. “Right. Well, I just wanted to do something nice with you. For Christmas. Before we have to leave and I won’t get to see you.”

You heart melts at his words, and you follow him to sit down at the table. “So you did all of this?” He nods. “It’s amazing, Tae.”

“You really think so?”

You nod. “I know so. Thank you, darling.”

Taehyung nods, opening his mouth but the sound of a knock on the door cutting him off. “Oh, that must be the takeout!” Taehyung scurries off, leaving you in a fit of laughter as you realize that Taehyung, for all his fancy tendencies, is still just Tae. 

The memory of the two of you eating cheap takeout on fine china is a memory you’ll keep for a long time.

5. “Where were you?” “Building a snow fort, duh.” - Jungkook

It’s freezing. Not the freezing that people say when they want to complain about how cold it is outside. Those people are weak. Those are the people that decide that they’d better stay inside because they can’t handle the slightest bit of cold.

No, today is actually freezing. Like, you think your toes my be amputated if you stay out here for much longer. 

Huffing, you pull out your phone to see if you’ve received a text from Jungkook. You haven’t. A quick check at your conversation shows you the same thing: Jungkook telling you that he’ll be right out, and to wait for him beside the back entrance. 

Well, you’ve been waiting for several minutes now outside the back entrance of the Bighit building, and you’re pretty sure you’d rather go inside and risk exposing your entire relationship to the world rather than dying a slow, cold death out here. 

You’re in the middle of contemplating what your final words should be when you hear Jungkook’s unmistakable laugh from behind you.

“You look like you're freezing!”

Whirling around, you see the man that has put you through all of this suffering wading out of the tall snowbank, his beanie pulled down low over his ears. 

“Where were you?” You mumble as your teeth chatter. Jungkook rushes over to you, rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up. 

“Building a snow fort, duh.”

Oh, today might be the day you seriously consider murder. “Jeon Jungkook, I’ve been dying out here waiting for you! You couldn’t just-”

Jungkook shushes you with his woolen mitten, grinning at you like you’re confessing your love for him and not reprimanding him. 

“It’s warm inside the snow fort.”

You blink, your train of thought shifting gears. “Does your snow fort take deliveries?”

Jungkook laughs, looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you along. “Oh, absolutely. Wanna check it out?”

Giving in, you sigh. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You still mad at me for making you wait?”

“...ask me again after I’ve eaten.”

Jungkook laughs, guiding you toward his snow fort and promising to call up some takeout as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas! 

masterlist

[kuredono]

Sing Sing Sing [part 1 of penpals] | Fushiguro x gn!(clarinettist)reader

TW: mentions of throwing up, hospital despite the TW this is v fluffy! basically you and Meg have been penpals and you meet for the first time! but not in the way either of you would’ve imagined... 

"i think they're coming around now..."

"hello..?"

all you remember was taking a wrong turn down an empty alley on a sunny day, then you were in a cold building with an ugly looking monster holding the back of your neck.

you grasped at a knee, or maybe an arm, squeezing as your felt your stomach churn, though you kept your lips pursed together, willing for it to stay down.

"i think they're gonna be sick..."

"GOJO-SENSEI! HELP! THE CIVILIAN IS GOING TO THROW UP!"

fresh air suddenly hit your face and you threw up in a bush before everything went black again.

"-the thing up. afterwards it was pretty easy to deal with."

"you say that, but the civilian still got injured."

"hey! i didn't see you trying to catch them."

"i had my hands full already!"

your eyes were immediately assaulted with the bright sunshine as you tried to crack them open. you decidedly kept them shut and moved your lead weighted arms to cover your eyes.

"oh?"

"you awake?"

"what happened?" was all you could ask. you had tried to beat the ugly thing with-

"my clarinet!" you bolted up, eyes wide open and met with three equally wide ones (person one had a black blindfold?), but suddenly your head exploded with pain.

"go slowly. you hit your head pretty hard." a voice said as you groaned, squeezing your temples with your trembling hands. "do you remember what happened?"

"got lost walking back. woke up in a weird building and there was a funky looking thing. tried to run away, then some people turned up and the thing exploded. kinda gross."

"gross?!"

"i mean, they are super gross." 

"where are we? what's going on?" you dared to open your eyes again, more slowly, as you took in your surroundings. you were sat on the floor, leaning against a big black dog. how cute. you nuzzled your head into its fur, easing your killer headache. 

"we're in Akihabara, and i think you're concussed. we'd like to take you to a hospital." the one with white hair and the blindfold spoke with a kind smile.

"who are you?" you furrowed your brows together, feeling like you should run away because stranger danger ! but the dog was comfy, lulling you to sleep.

"ah, i'm Gojo Satoru, i'm a teacher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School, and they are my first year students. we were out on a field trip when we found you." the white haired male answered again. he was a teacher? you'd never be able to guess.

"Jujutsu Tech High School?" you repeated, the name distantly ringing bells. you turned your attention to the students. "i recognise that uniform."

"we've been in Akihabara and around Tokyo before! did you see us then?" the pink haired boy asked with a bright smile. you buried your face into the dog with a thoughtful hum.

"it's only natural we stand out you know!" amother voice voice sung.

"never in a good way." a calmer voice grumbled.

"i guess i just exude that kind of eye-catching aura."

"it's easy recognise beauty such as mine."

how did you get here? why was this happening to you? you were just performing with a marching band this morning, doing your absolute best and playing your loudest for someone. you wanted to stand out for someone. he said he'd come by but didn't. you weren't disappointed... well... you were, but you understood he had his reasons. he probably had classes because it's Thursday.

"Megumi Fushiguro?" you mumbled, the students around you falling silent.

"what did you say?"

"oh yeah, in Japan you say it the other way round don't you?" you chuckled, remembering how embarrassed you were when Megumi cared to point that out when you were discussing nicknames. "Fushiguro Megumi. think he goes to your school."

it was quiet for a moment before the students erupted into excited chatter, 

"Fushiguro! you know them?"

"why didn't you tell us!"

"what? i - i don't—" the calm voice was not calm, but his breath stuttered, "Y - Y/N?"

you had first met Fushiguro via letter in first year middle school, your middle schools partners for a penpal project. you had sent the first letter and even went through the extra effort to try and make a translation, though your characters were very messy so you made sure to also send the English original in case it was unreadable. it was nearly a month before your class got their responses, and it appeared you were the most lucky as Fushiguro's English was far better than your Japanese, and when comparing letters with your classmates, you had the most interesting response.

nearly a year and 7 more letters later, you were the only one in your class still in touch with your penpal, and with the year drawing to a close, the teachers explained that you could only send one more letter. so with a wish, you sent your phone number and downloaded several Japanese chatting apps. sure enough, 2 weeks later, there was a friend request on LINE from a Megumi Fushiguro. his profile picture was just a night sky, but you couldn't say anything, yours was sheet music. this anonymity continued indefinitely. at first you had no idea how often he was okay with you messaging him, and you added the Tokyo timezone to your clock app so you didn't message him at ungodly hours, but after a few months, Megumi would be your first thought when you saw a cute cat or something and you'd quickly snap a photo to send him. he also did the same, mostly pictures of the sky.

on Megumi's birthday, you sent a recording of you playing his favourite piece on clarinet, and for your birthday he sent you a playlist of songs he thought you would like. from then on, you continued to send him your repertoire and small recordings of your practices. then one day, when you talked to him about your most recent performance, Fushiguro asked for the link to the video. you did, but didn't tell him which clarinet player you were. he didn't ask either. you toed the border of your anonymity when you first moved to high school with a picture of you in your new marching band uniform, but from the neck down. you weren't expecting a photo back, but he surprisingly sent one back of his uniform from the neck down. his uniform looked much comfier.

then a spot for a Japanese high school exchange opened (one of the main reasons you chose to attend the high school you did), and though it was for second years, you fought and won the spot. you immediately messaged Fushiguro without checking the time in Japan. and as if that wasn't enough, the wind band in your Japanese high school were having a performance in Tokyo! Fushiguro was in Tokyo! you told Fushiguro, but then dread began to pool in your stomach. what if he didn't want to meet? you were totally fine with that. but you wanted to so badly! you remember your elation when he stopped you mid-anxious text ramble to say he would meet you.

you woke up to a white ceiling and the potent smell of disinfectant. the hospital curtain slid open to reveal a beautiful boy with deep blue hair and long eyelashes, his eyes widening at you.

"ah- good afternoon."

"good afternoon, how can i help?" you smiled, "i think you might have the wrong bay?"

"no. i- uh- do you remember what happened? do you, do you remember me?"

"um... no? i'm not really sure what you mean? i mean, i recognise your uniform- do you go to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School by any chance?"

"they said you would be concussed and you might have some memory problems..." the boy mumbled, "is it alright if i sit down?" your eyes darted to the curtain in panic, "ah, i'll leave the curtain open, our teacher is just signing you out the hospital, i'm Fushiguro Megumi."

"Megumi?!" you gasped, the boy smiling softly as you fumbled for words, "i- you- huh?"

"yeah... we have a lot to talk about."

"then, please! sit! i can't believe!" you covered your mouth with your hand, which did nothing to muffle your delighted squeal as he sat in the chair next to your bed. "wow. i mean, it's so nice to finally meet you in person!"

Megumi couldn't help smiling too.

"it's nice to see you too... and i'm sorry i didn't make it to your performance."

"hey, it's okay! we still met up!" you grinned brightly. Megumi then found his hands very interesting.

"and, um... your clarinet is broken..."

"that--" will be very expensive, the thought alone bringing tears to your eyes- your precious baby! it was worth more than your entire wardrobe and shoes! but you shoved that thought away until later. Megumi was here now, visiting you in hospital. "-actually, why am i here? what happened?"

Megumi thankfully didn't push the topic of your clarinet and gladly filled you in on what had happened. by the end of his explanation, you had your face buried in your hands.

"i'm so sorry you had to see that."

"it's fine, i've seen worse. besides, you were concussed, it's normal."

"still..." you whined, peeking between your fingers to find him offering you a hint of a reassuring smile. you gave in with a sigh, "i must say, that's some weird religion you have and they teach you, no offence."

Megumi chuckled, eyes distant, "you're right, it is pretty weird."

"but, um, thank you for saving me Megumi." said boy snapped back into reality very quickly, his cheeks flushing red as it dawned on you that everyone probably called him by his last name. "or do you prefer Fushiguro? am i pronouncing it right? sorry, i got used to-"

"it's fine." he uttered out, "Megumi is fine."

"what about honourifics?"

"whatever you're comfortable with."

"then... Megumi-kun? or is that too weird?"

the boy's cheeks darkened, "it's fine..."

"then you can call me Y/N-chan! then it's not as weird right?" you suggested, starting to feel the second-hand embarrassment.

"yeah." Megumi flinched too much when his phone chimed, and he hurriedly read it over. "Gojo-sensei -my teacher- said he's signed what you need to let you out. you just need to sign a few things before you go."

"right." well, the moment had to end at some point. you couldn't stay in the hospital bay forever. it was just an amazing coincidence that you had met Megumi, so you should be thankful you even had the opportunity to speak to him like this. "am i okay to move?"

"um, i'll call a nurse."

Megumi stepped out as you were examined by the nurse, and you saw him again in reception as you gave him and his teacher a thumbs up before signing the hospital forms.

"thank you very much for everything you've done. i'm so grateful. and please pass my thanks on to the other first years!" you bowed formally to the pair, Megumi flushing red while his teacher just waved you off.

"no worries. sorry about your clarinet and the concussion." the teacher responded.

"it's fine, i was always told i have a thick skull! comes in handy sometimes."

"i have to go now, but Megumi will walk you to the station, right?"

Megumi scowled at his teacher with an unreadable look in his eyes which seemed to make the teacher's smile brighten.

"well it was nice to meet you sir!" you bowed again at the adult, who nodded to you.

"nice to meet you too! hope you enjoy Japan. Megumi, be nice."

Megumi glared at the older man as he skipped away, seemingly pleased with himself for winding the younger up. Said male sighed.

"you don't have to walk me back if you're busy, i have GPS on my phone."

The boy startled at your comment, brows furrowed, before shaking his head, "it's fine, it's no trouble. i would feel better if i walked you to the station at least."

you couldn't stop the wide smile stretching on your lips, "thanks!"

"it's nothing."

you mentally thanked all the deities for letting you spend a little longer with your penpal, chatting easily as if you hadn't just met him less than 10 hours ago. by the time you had made it to the station, you had mentally prepared to part.

"so... i guess this is it?"

"yeah..."

"it was so nice to meet you- i cannot fully explain how nice this has been! even if i did spend a while in a hospital." Megumi chuckled at your words. you felt your cheeks heat up, his smile squeezing at your heart.

"i feel the same."

your train arrived.

"well. i'll message you later then?" you grinned hopefully, Megumi nodding. "hug? or do you not do those? i don't mind."

you nearly burst out laughing at the rush of emotions that flickered in Megumi's eyes- mostly panic. he blinked out his state when a giggle slipped out. he flushed red but nodded stiffly, opening his arms for you. you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his wrap behind you too, surprisingly quickly considering how awkward he was at first. keeping it short because of the train behind you, you pulled away to find him also smiling. so he did like hugs.

"until next time?"

"yeah."

the doors shut and you waved to him as the train set off. and that was that.

your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Megumi: the school offered to pay compensation for the damages to your clarinet, so please let me know if and when you're free to go to a music shop in Tokyo to buy a new one.

sorry this hasn’t been proofread and the ending is kinda rushed because i just really wanted to publish it hahaha (catch me constantly editing this for DAYS now, so i probably shouldn’t post it but we die like men)

[lost-in-the-80s]

You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 5

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,115k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this Chapter: Y/N is back on the road with Guns n Roses. Will things with Duff remain awkward?

A/N: Hello, my friends! This chapter is very cute. I have a little spoiler about the next chapter: It’s going to be Duff's pov.  Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold  @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @vinylvintage​ add yourself to my tag list :)

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It was a bright sunny day in Los Angeles when Y/N got inside a taxi to go back on tour with Guns n Roses.

The so-called one-month pause became two as soon as Nikki Sixx, the bassist of Mötley Crüe, overdosed and the whole band had to go to rehab, leaving Guns hanging without a band to open for.

She still remembered when Tom called her telling her that they had lost the contract and that the band was feeling very down. However, Aerosmith showed up with a golden opportunity, they wanted Guns to open for them on the European leg of the tour. 

So here she was, on her way to the airport to meet with five crazy rockers who, as much as she disliked to admit, she had missed a lot.

These two months out of the road were great for her. She spent the holidays with her family in North Dakota and visited her friends in L. A and finally helped Rose with a part of the rent for the apartment.

She also enjoyed her time doing one of the things she loved the most: go to the beach and get a good old suntan. That was the best part about living in L.A in her opinion, the whole year felt like summer, completely different from the snowy and cold winter in North Dakota.

One week before going back on tour she attended an appointment at her favorite hairstylist, renovating its locks that were now quite long. Giving herself a spa day before going back to the bus’ couch, as Tom would go with them on tour again.

These two months also allowed her to think a lot about Duff. In the first days she was feeling blue, the way he spoke to her during that afternoon and how he didn’t talk to her after that hurt. He even switched places with Steven on the plane back to L.A, just so he didn’t need to sit beside her.

During December she questioned herself about what had she done that could’ve let him so angry at her, but after spending two weeks away from Los Angeles, she got to focus on other things, and following her mom’s advice she decided to give time to time and see how things would.

Izzy helped her with that process too, they crossed paths one day at a park, she went there with her friend’s nephew as she was babysitting and he was skating there. The two of them talked for a few hours and he told her that Duff was just in a bad week, that she shouldn’t take it personally, which made her lose that guilty feeling she was having.

Guilty and Sad, that’s how she was feeling in the beginning. But now she had convinced herself that whatever she had felt for Duff was over. She told herself plenty of times she just felt like that because she was feeling lonely and he had been nice to her.

So now, arriving at the airport, she was 100% sure that she’d look at Duff and her heart wouldn’t skip a bit. They’d talk and she wouldn’t stutter or blush and things would go as they were meant to be.

Walking through the crowd of people inside the airport she finally spotted a tall fuzzy blonde head. Duff. They were just a few meters away from her, making a smile appear on her face.

“Y/N!” Steven shouted waving, not sure if she had seen them.

She raised her hand waving back at him.

“Hello, fellas.” She placed her bags on the ground stopping in front of them.

“Wow, look at you, all tanned!” Slash exclaimed, opening his arms and walking towards the girl to get a hug.

“You know, every time I was about to put a shirt on, I listened to your voice saying that they were the biggest expression of my bad taste.” He said when they let go of each other, smiling at her.

“So you stopped wearing them?” She tilted her head while smiling.

“Nope.” He turned around showing the back of this t-shirt, where “Fuck off I’m out” could be read.

She shook her head, giggling a little.

“I want a hug too!” Steven popped up beside her, involving her in a bear hug, lifting off the ground. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stevie.” She giggled.

“Do you want a hug too?” She looked at Izzy, smirking.

“No.” He said and the two of them laughed. 

“Well, I want one.” Duff showed up in front of her, opening his arms.

She hesitated for a second, but moved forward and wrapped her arms around his body. 

When he involved her, a certain electricity ran through her body and she wanted to never let go of him. He smelled of cigarettes and cologne though she could smell a small hint of vodka, as if it had stayed in his jacket after he washed it. 

He lowered his head to hers and said close to her left ear. “I’m sorry for being an asshole with you.” His voice was low, as if he was sharing a secret that only she could know about.

The sound caused goosebumps on her body, as she answered in almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”

They let go of each other and suddenly she realized that they had been hugging each other for quite a while, since Tom had arrived and they didn’t even notice.

Duff moved away rubbing the back of his neck, starting some conversation with Slash.

“Hey, Tom! How were your holidays?” She gave him a quick embrace before stopping beside Steven, who hugged her from beside and rested his face on her shoulder.

“It was good, I was missing the kids already.” He smiled tenderly.

“You have kids? I didn’t know that.” She moved one arm away from Steven's grip so she could hug him back.

She looked down and thought that he looked just like a child when they’re bored and start to get sleepy.

“Yes, I do. Here,” He took his wallet out of the blazer’s pocket, showing her some small pictures he had in it. “this is Jenna, she’s 10,” He pointed to a ginger girl with lots of freckles. “and this is Brian, he’s 6.” He showed a boy wearing a baseball hat.

“They’re adorable, Tom! I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you to be away from them all the time.” Y/N smiled at him seeing that he truly loved the kids.

“Yeah, it’s difficult, but it’s a part of the job. It’s thanks to my absence that they’ll be able to go to college.” He put his wallet back in the pocket and adjusted his glasses.

“You’re a good father, Tom.”

He grinned at her words.

“You really are. Can I meet the kids someday?” Steven asked, lifting his head off of her shoulder. 

“When the tour is over, let’s have dinner together. I’ll take them and Martha along.” He grabbed his bags from the ground.

“Sure! That’d be cool.” Steven smiled, letting go of Y/N.

“Anyway. Where’s Axl? We need to be on the plane line in 15 minutes.”

“He’s late.” Izzy showed up lighting up a cigarette.

“Not so late,” Duff said, pointing towards the other side of the airport. 

Y/N looked and at first, she couldn’t see anything, but then some ginger locks in a flannel shirt showed up. 

“You’re late.” Tom said, starting to walk towards the line. 

“Sorry, Erin was keeping me busy… if you know what I mean.” He smirked.

“Jesus.” Y/N made a disgusted face while following Tom.

Inside the plane, she found herself in a seat between Steven and Slash. Duff, Izzy and Axl on the other side of the corridor while Tom was sitting one line ahead, beside an old lady.

“Oh man, I wish I could bring Ana with me.” Slash complained.

“Who’s Ana?” Y/N asked smirking.

“My python. I bought her last month.” He smiled turning towards her.

“You mean a snake?” She widened her eyes. 

He nodded.

“You have a snake as a pet?” She shivered under the thought, she was terrified of snakes.

“Yes, they are lovely creatures.”

“I’m scared to death of them.”

“No way! But they’re nice!” He turned his body towards her a little, ready to start an argumentation.

“I grew up on a farm, Slash. One of them passed right in front of my feet when we were plowing the land.”

“Did it bite you?” He moved his hair away from his face, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Well...no.”

“Then why are you scared? They aren’t violent animals. They just attack if you scare them. Dogs kill more people per year than snakes.” 

She paused for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. But still, I don’t think I’ll ever visit your house now.”

He giggled. “Do you have any pets?”

“We always had lots of dogs. They’re easy to train and help you with some chores.” He nodded at her. “I have a cat. Though I don’t know if I could call him mine yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left him in ND when I moved to L.A. I just see him when I visit my parents now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Thomas.”

Slash laughed. 

“What?”

“Thomas, you know?” He laughed harder.

Y/N frowned at him, not understanding.

Then Slash pointed to the seat in front of him, where Tom was sitting. 

She looked at Tom, then at Slash, then at Tom again and finally understood. Her cat had the same name as Tom. 

Y/N laughed, she had never stopped to realize that until now.

Out in the distance, she didn’t see Duff looking at her and smiling when she laughed. 

----

Arriving in London, they followed up with their normal activities. Did the soundcheck, had an interview and went backstage to get ready.

“Do you think I should tease my hair?” Axl asked Izzy who simply shook his head as a response.

“God, I’m nervous,” Duff said walking back and forth inside the room. “I need more vodka.”

“No more drinking, you need to calm down.” Y/N pointed at him, then pointing to a black couch at the end of the room, meaning that he should sit down.

“That’s why I need vodka, love.” He walked past her, going after more booze.

The nickname made her cheeks burn and she tried her best not to smile.

“Fuck, I’m nervous too.” Slash said.

“Why are you guys so nervous? You’ve done lots of gigs like this before.” She asked, frowning.

“No, we haven’t, Y/N,” Izzy said, sitting on the couch while looking for his cigarettes. “We’re in another country, a whole different crowd.”

“It’s our first time outside from home.” Duff said, reappearing in the room and sitting beside Izzy.

“Plus, It’s Aerosmith, fuck! We can’t fuck this up.” Steven added, while trying to choose a t-shirt. “Y/N. The black or the white one?” He showed her the two blouses.

“The black one.” She pointed with her pen. “You guys just need to breathe, everything will go fine. I’m sure about it.” She smiled at them, trying to calm their nerves. 

“Shit, I think I’m gonna freak out.” Duff exclaimed, drinking almost half the bottle down. 

“Not now. I need you good okay?” Axl crouched in front of him. “Just take long breaths, it’s no big deal.”

Axl started breathing slowly, soon being followed by Duff, that seemed to get calmer.

“Guys, you have to go. You’re in in five minutes.”  She said looking at her wristwatch.

“Fuck! I’m not ready yet!” Axl complained, rushing towards their bags looking for his clothes as he was still in his travel clothing. 

“Oh, God, not today!” Izzy rolled his eyes, starting to smoke the third cigarette.

“What do you want to wear tonight?” She asked, sitting on the floor beside him. 

“My leather pants and the leather waistcoat.” He looked at her. “Find them and I’ll find the shoes and my bandana.” 

Moving to Axl’s second bag she started looking inside, throwing some of the clothes on the ground. “Got the pants!” She yelled, throwing them in his direction. 

“Not this one! I want the cowboy leather pants.” Axl complained.

“Axl!” Izzy interjected. 

“Fine, fine!” He lifted his hands in surrender.

After a few minutes, he was ready, running down the corridors while putting his sneakers on. 

“You should watch the gig,” Steven said. “You’ve never watched one.”

“That’s because I always have to organize your mess.” She giggled a little.

“No, seriously, I think you’d like it.” 

Thinking for a second she answered shrugging. “Why not?” 

“Yeas!” He smiled before getting onstage. 

Finding some equipment boxes on the side-door of the stage, she climbed on a big one, sitting on it and placing her agenda on her side. 

The gig started and she understood why everybody was getting crazy about them. 

Axl moved around as if he had eaten batteries for breakfast, jumping, running, screaming and singing. His voice was incredible and he was fierce, just what you need for a frontman.

Slash had lost all his shyness. Dancing, jumping and playing like a god. Every note that left his guitar sounded magical, precisely right. And even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell that he loved doing that.

Izzy was like a black cat in the night, that you just notice if you pay attention. He moved around calmly, playing his guitar and singing the backing vocals so peacefully, as if he was born to do that. 

Steven, well, now she understood why they called him popcorn. His hair bounced up and down as his head accompanied the drums he was playing. He smiled and sang along and if he could, she was sure he’d get up and dance to the songs.

But nobody caught her eyes like Duff did. The velocity with which he moved his fingers, the way his head kept up with the beat of the song. The way he walked so majestically with his long legs crossing the stage in a few seconds.

He was beautiful, a masterpiece in her opinion. And she knew that there was no use in trying to fight, she was already in love with him. 

----

After the gig, they did the check-in in the hotel, taking a quick shower before stopping in a restaurant for dinner. 

Joining two tables together, they sat down. Tom and Izzy taking the borders, Axl, Slash and Steven taking one side while Y/N and Duff took the other.

It was a simple restaurant, nothing fancy, and as they talked and ate Y/N couldn’t help but feeling like she was having dinner with old friends of hers.

“So I get home and grandma is complaining that Axl was sleeping on her couch and that she wants him out of the house.” Slash was telling a story about when Axl used to sleep in his basement.  

“I go downstairs and say ‘Axl, you have to find somewhere else to stay, bro’ and he’s like furiously throwing his things inside this backpack while giving me an angry look.”

Axl was laughing at this point.

“We got in my mom’s car and I started driving him towards the place where Izzy was crashing and I was like ‘Why did you sleep on her couch, dude? I had told you not to do that!’ and he looks at me with that ‘I’m gonna kill you look’, he opens the door and jumps out of the car!”

“What?” Y/N asked.

They were all laughing.

“I was pissed.” Axl answered.

“Pissed? None of us saw you for three days!” Slash added while Duff wiped some tears away from his eyes. 

“I needed time to calm down.” Axl replied calmly, still smiling as he lifted his glass to drink from it. 

“This is the best story you guys ever told me!” She said after she stopped laughing.

----

Leaving the restaurant they started walking towards the hotel, they all went in front, leaving Duff and her behind.

It was a cold night in London and Y/N had definitely forgotten that their winter was actually cold.

A cold breeze got her when she turned a corner and she shivered, hugging herself. Her sweater was definitely not enough for a night like that. 

“Here.” She looked to her side and saw Duff taking off his leather jacket and handing it to her.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Y/N. Take the jacket.” He smiled at her.

She took it, her cold fingers touching his warm hand slightly. 

Putting the jacket on she realized it was big on her, the smell of his cologne mixed with Marlboro hit her nostrils and she hugged the jacket closer to her body, wishing that it was him who was involving her. 

A few minutes passed by and they finally reached the hotel. Entering the lobby the warmth welcomed them in and she smiled. 

“On which floor are you?” Duff asked.

“Fourth.” She started to take the jacket off. 

“I’m on the sixth.” 

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled. “Thanks for the jacket, Duff.”

“It’s ok.”

They stopped for a second, looking at each other almost as if they were in trance. 

Duff put a lock of her hair behind her ear and licked his lips.

“Y/N.” Tom’s voice cut the atmosphere, making her jump slightly and look in his direction. “Are you coming?” He pointed to the elevator.

“Yeah, just a sec.” 

Looking at Duff again, she gave him a small smile. “Good night, Duff.”

He leaned down, lightly kissing her cheek. “Good night, Y/N.” 

Getting in her room she quickly changed into some comfy pajamas. She stopped in front of the bathroom mirror when brushing her teeth and soon realized that she was smiling.

Her face seemed to be tickling where his fingers had brushed ever so delicately over. And she could still feel the warmth of his lips against her skin.

“Oh, Y/N. You are so fucked now.” She said to herself, walking towards the bed and jumping on it. 

She laid there, but she couldn’t sleep, his face and voice filling her mind along with the memories of him playing onstage. 

Her hair, which had stayed inside the jacket during the walk to the hotel, was smelling like him.

She turned around, facing the illuminated building in front of the hotel while smiling.

Yes, she was fucked. But she was feeling so happy that she couldn’t even get mad at herself for feeling like this. 

[trickster-tabby]

What's your favorite idea? Mine is being creative. How do you get the idea? I just try to think creatively. Now when you look at this orange, tell me please, what do you see? It's just a boring old orange. Maybe to you, but not to me. I see a silly face! Wow! Walking along and smiling at me. I don't see what you mean. Cause you're not thinking creatively! So take a look at my hair! Cool! I use my hair to express myself. That sounds really boring. I use my hair to express myself. Now, when you stare at the clouds in the sky, don't you find it exciting? No. Come on, take another look. Oh, wait! I can see a hat! I can see a cat! I can see a man with a baseball bat! I can see a dog! I can see a frog! I can see a ladder, leaning on a log! Think you're getting the hang of it now, using your minds to have a good time. I might paint a picture of a clown. Whoa there friend, you might need to slow down. Here's another good tip. Yeah? Of how to be a creative wiz kid. Go and collect some leaves and sticks and arrange them into your favorite color. Blue. Red! Green! Green is not a creative color. Oh... There's one more thing that you need to know, before you let your creativity flow. Listen to your heart, listen to the rain, listen to the voices in your brain. Come on guys, let's get creative! Now let's all agree to never be creative again.

Come on guys, stop mucking around. We only have five minutes until our show's on. That's not enough time. There's always time for a song. What? Who is that? Time is a tool you can put on the wall or wear it on your wrist. The past is far behind us, the future doesn't exist. Oh... What's the time? It's quarter to nine! Time to have a bath. What do you mean? We're already clean. Scrub scrub scrub, 'til the water's brown. Time is a ruler to measure the day. It doesn't go backwards, only one way. Watch it go round like a merry-go-round. Going so fast like a merry-go-round. Let's go on a journey, a journey through all time. The time that's changing all the time, it's time to go to time! But we don't really want to, we're going to miss our show. Don't be stupid, friends! Come on, it's time to go! Time is old, like Victorian times. Like cobbles, and playing, and speaking in rhymes. With cobbles, and chimneys, a simpler times. With cobbles, and sawdust, and batteries, and slime! This tree that is old has circles inside. This tree that is older has shriveled and died. The apple that's fresh is ripe to the core! And I rot over time and I'm not anymore. Time can be told by the moon or the sun, but time flies fast when you're having fun. There's a time and a place for mucking around! Like birthdays! And camping. I'm friends with my dad! And then what happened after the olden days? Time went new and got old like history. Stuff from the past went into a mystery. An old man died. But look, a computer. Everything's cool, it's the future! Time is now, the future anew! And look at all the wonderful things you can do! With gadgets and gizmos, and email addresses! My dad is a computer! Look at the time! It's quarter to eight, there's fish on my plate! It's twenty past day, there's fish on my tray! It's eleven to twelve, there's fish in the bath! It's nine thirty, there's fish everywhere. Fish everywhere. Now you can see the importance of time. It helps us make pizza, it keeps things in line. But when did it start? And when will it stop? Time is important, and I am a clock. If we run out of time, where does it go? Is time even real, does anyone know? Maybe time's just a construct of human perception, an illusion created by- meh meh meh meh MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH MEH- Sunrise, sunset, night and day. The changing seasons, the smell of hay. Look at your hair grow, isn't it strange how time makes your appearance change? Ugh! Make it stop! It's out of my hands, I'm only a clock. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine. But eventually, everyone runs out of time.

Isn't it nice to finally be outside on such a beautiful day? Yes, and I've packed us a delicious chicken picnic. Huh? Heh, hehehe! Ugh! Pesky bee! Hmm, he seems upset about something. I wonder what will happen. It makes you sad, doesn't it? That there's so much hatred in the world. I hope you don't mind if I ask you a question. A little baby pigeon! Have you ever wondered why we're here? What's it all about, you've no idea. And everywhere you look, all you see is hatred, and darkness, death, and fear. But, you know, it doesn't have to be that I hate you, and you hate me. Cause even though we're different, it doesn't make a difference, and we can live in harmony. I know you don't know who I am, but maybe I could hold your hand, and together we could understand about love. Huh? I feel tingly! Yes, that's love, my friend! And it's time for you to learn all about it. Hehehehe! Love is a place, love is a thing, love is a place, love is a thing, love is a place, love is a thing, love is a place, love is a thing. And do you ever feel like life's unfair? Cause everybody hates you, and no one cares! But if you follow me, maybe you will see that love is everywhere! But what is love? Is it in the sky? No, it's a feeling, deep inside! Because I'm hungry. No, you're lonely! I can see it in your eyes. I don't understand. Don't worry, you will soon! Come and meet some of my friends they know all about love! Come on, just over the rainbow! Oh look, there he goes, flying through the sky! Maybe we should follow him, or we'll get left behind. Yes, but there's lots of chicken left, and I'd like to eat the chicken. I'd also like to eat the chicken, let's do that instead. So here we are with all my friends, and they love you, all of them! Yes we do! It is true! We love you! And you love us too! Heh, I love you too, furry boy! Hehe, harder. Now we've eaten the chicken, I don't know what to do. Maybe we should look for our friend, isn't that what friends do? And we have finished the chicken picnic. To love each other is to care, to be kind. And to share! I love my friends so I get my hug! I made this for you, cause I love you so much. I love my pet, cause he's a crab. I love this tree, and I love this stick, and I love this mud. No no, that's not how it's done, you must save your love for your Special One. My Special One? Everyone has a Special One. Even me? But I am lonely. Yes, it's true! But do not worry. You're confused, but that's okay. Let me put it another way... This is the story of Michael, the loneliest boy in town. This is the story of Michael, the ugliest boy in town. Ugly and weak, they called him a freak, so he lived on his own underground. He lived on his own underground. He lived on his own underground. You see? Everyone has a Special One! Even Michael! Your heart beats hard like a big love drum, calling for your Special One. So be patient, cause just maybe, your Special One will come! He's made for her, and she's made for him. That's the way it's always been. And it's perfect, and it's pure. And it's protected with a ring. That's the way that all love goes. And like a flower, it grows and grows! And it's forever, and forever! And now we all worship our king, our king, our king, our king. His name is Malcolm. He is the king of love. We must feed him. We must feed him gravel. Or he becomes angry. Mmm, gravel. And this is your chance to start anew, and all we're asking you to do is change your name, clean your brain, and forget about anything you ever knew. And your heart will find its home. And our love will never go! Now wear this ring, and join the king! And you will never be alone. Aah! Oh, there you are. We've been looking for you all afternoon. We're sorry we upset you. But look, we've brought you the last boiled egg to cheer you up! For me? Father! Ugh! Pesky bee!

Oh, I guess it's my turn to choose a card. Let's see. Hmm! What is the biggest thing in the world? Hmm, that's a tricky one. A mountains? A sky. A windmill! No. If only there was a way to learn more about the world. Yes, if only there was some way to learn more information about this. Wow, look! I'm a computer. I'm a computery guy. Everything made out of buttons and wires. I'd like to show you inside my digital life. Inside my mind there is a digital mind. Oh, maybe you could help us answer this question. What is the bigg- Clever. I'm very clevery guy. Count to a fifty in the blink of my eye. And print a picture. And then I'll tell you the time. Time? Help you to find something you're wanting to find. Know it's easy to be a clever, smart boy like me if you just do it all digitally. Wow. I'd like to be as smart as a computer. Actually, we already have a computer. Great! Great news! Now, before we begin our journey, I just need to get some information from you. What's your name? Where do you live? What do you like to eat? I live in my house. Spaghetti! Well, my name is Dr- Great news! Now, just a few more questions, and we'll be on our way! Wait a second. What's your favorite color? Stop talking. Do you like cow's or goat's milk? Be quiet. Do you have brown hair? What is your blood type? Are you allergic to- Shut up! Don't touch me! What? Welcome to my digital home! Everything made out of numbers and code. Huh? Wow, we're all computery! Oh yeah, wow- wow- wow, this is a computer. I don't get it. How can it be? If I'm sitting at home, but I'm inside the screen? But you're not you. You're your digital you! Virtually real, but controlled by real you. But if he's not quite real, then I'm not real too! And you not real you, he's inside your real you. Oh wow, how amazing, and interesting too, but in this digital world, what can we do? What can we- Hey, good question! Well, it's up to you! In the digital world, there's over three things to do. Wow, look, a pie chart. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Wow, look, a bar graph. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Wow, look a line graph. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Wow, look, an oblong. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Wow, look, nothing. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Nothing. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Nothing. Digital style! Do a digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! Digital dancing! Hey, this is fun! I am a stupid one. I am going to paint a picture of a clown. My dad has a computer. You are not invited to the party. Wait, wha-

Hmm. Something's different. Hmm. Something's... Missing. Hmm. Is it this guy? Fish and chips. Steak and beef, chuckitachow. Grapes and eggs. Steak. Eggs. Are you hungry? You look to be a bit hungry. No. Doo doo doo doo, lots of people get hungry. That's your body. Hungry comes from your body. Get off me. But your body, it musta have to be healthy. What's that? A tasty snack. You don't wanna go and eat a snack like that. Greedy to eat all that. You'll end up with your teeth all grey. Doo doo, da doo doo. Doo doo, da doo doo, do it healthy. Haha. Food is talking. Let's get healthy now! Hello? You need to know. What's right from wrong. You see, the body is like a special house, with blood, hair, and organs in the different rooms. Oh look, there's Mr Bladder in the basement! Hahaha! What? Now, food comes in through the chimney, mouth, and goes from room to room greeting the different organs. Hello! Now, the good, healthy food is very nice and polite to the organs, and so is invited to stay for a party! Yay! But the bad, not healthy foods are very rude and must leave through the catflap. Rude! That doesn't make sense. Doo doo, da doo doo! A doo doo, da doo doo, do be healthy! Hello? What's that? A tasty snack. You don't wanna go and eat a snack like that. Greedy to eat all that. You'll end up with your gums all grey. Yeah, but... Something's... Wrong. Exactly! How do we know which ones are the healthy foods to eat? Well, that's easy! The food groups can easily be sorted using the simple health shape. Choosing normal, plain looking foods, such as bread, cream, white sauce, and aspic keep the body ticking over just nicely. Isn't that right? Eh, I need to go. But wait! What's this? Fancy, show-offy foods like cooked meat, fruit salad, soil foods, and yolk. Ugh! These foods will clog up the body with unnecessary details. Oh no, look, it's all broken and on the floor! Everything tastes great! But maybe we should wait before we put in on the plate! Enough! Or it could be too late! I don't wanna do this anymore! For my snack, I choose a pizza slice! Bread and cheese, and tastes of nice! What's that? A pizza slice? But you're better off with plain white sauce. What's that? Plain white sauce? Plain white sauce makes your teeth go grey! Does it matter? Just throw it away! Why not try something else on your tray? Oh, what's that? A lovely pie? But you're gonna end up sad inside. Ugh, sad inside, you're gonna make me sick! I choose some ice cream beef! I've cream beef makes your teeth go grey. What's that? A kidney bean? Kidney bean makes your teeth go grey. But everyone has their teeth go grey, just eat yeast and it'll go away! But how much have you had today? Too much yeast makes your teeth go grey. How bout some onion paste? Looks like fun, have a taste. Ugh! That wasn't onion paste! You shouldn't eat food from a stranger's plate! A stranger's plate! A stranger's plate!

Goodnight, guys. I miss you. Ooh, somebody's sleepy! Huh? Hehe hehehe, but that's silly! No! How can you be sleepy if you don't know how to have dreams? No, I don't want to know. I don't want to know how to have dreams! No! No! Dreams are movies that live in your head! Stop! Every night when you sleep in your bed! And you can have a dream about riding a horse! No! Or you can have a dream about drowning in oil! No! No! No! No more songs! Aah! Oh, looks like someone's having a bad dream! A bad dream! Can you file these files please? Uh, yeah. Sure. But hey, um. Wouldn't it be funny if one of these files came alive? Yeah. I am a file and you put documents in me. And, and... A doo doo doo, a file. Funny, silly file. Doo doo doo. You know, it did like a song. No. That sounds really boring. But I was like yeah, that's not even the same bucket. Hahaha. I am the cool guy, I guess. Laid back and sad. Nowadays, I hurt my leg today. Huh? Well, that's rude. No clothes. What's your favorite idea? Mine is being creative. How do you get the idea? I just try to think creatively. When you look at this orange, tell me please, what do you see? It's just a boring old orange. Maybe to you, but not to me. I see a silly face. Boo. Walking along and smiling at me. Boo. I don't see what you mean. Cause you're not thinking creatively. I don't like it. It's really not good. Now take a look at my hair. Boo. I use my hair to express myself. It's not very good at all. Not good. Boo. Not good. Rubbish. Boo. Boo. Boo. Not good. Go away. Don't stop now, friend. Your voice is music to my face. Huh? Geh? Or you can have a dream about eating a treat. Or you can have a dream about buying a hat. Or you can have a dream about losing your friends. No... Or you can have a dream about burning your friends. Time is a tool you can put on the wall or wear it on your wrist. Huh? The past is far behind us. You? The future doesn't exist. Time went new and got old like history, stuff from the past went into a mystery. You made me die! But look, a computer. I'm a computery guy. Aah! Everything made out of buttons and wires. I'd like to show you why we're here? What's it all about, you've no idea. And everywhere you look- Nooo!- all you see is hatred, and darkness, death, and ice cream beef? Ice cream beef makes your teeth go grey! Does it matter? Just throw it away! Why not try some fish on my tray! What? Where am I? We are in the universe, planets live inside the moon! A rocket ship can go to the moon! Sports ball! Let's play sports! Cricket ball! Red card! Magnet, and I'm friends with metal, I attract it! And it's my best friend! Let's dig a hole at the bottom of- Make it stop! Bee bop, ba doo bop, I teach you how to buy a canoe! I am a file and you put documents in me. Green is for go, but red is for not go. You can be crushed by a bus. Let's learn about gel! I know about gel! Stinky mouth! Music is your favorite thing. Uh... I wonder what will happen.

What's your favorite idea-

[catboygretzky]

brock/petey, 9 (“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”) bc i’m feeling soft today

Also requested by @mathewtkachuk!

Prompt from here: “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.” Word count: 1.6k Rating: Teen Tags to note: established relationship, pillow forts, rainy day fluff Other: This is just soft, that’s all it is. It’s soft and fluffy and so, so indulgent. Not properly edited but it is just a prompt.

-

Being with Brock - loving Brock - was the easiest thing he’d ever done, easy as breathing. But sometimes Brock would look at him like this, with reverence that he didn’t deserve, and his breath would stutter in his chest.

“I’d love to build a pillow fort with you,” Brock smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose.

Rainy days in Vancouver weren’t uncommon; it was Vancouver. That was what Vancouver did. It rained. But thunderstorms were rare, and even rarer than that were thunderstorms on one of their days off. 

“Brock,” Elias said, prodding him awake none too gently. “Brock, wake up.”

He groaned, rolling on to his back. “Pete, it’s our day off. Let me sleep in for once.”

Elias grinned and lay down on top of him, effectively using his body weight to pin him to the mattress. Brock was soft beneath him, pliant from sleep, and he was almost tempted to say fuck it; sleepy morning sex with Brock was one of his favourite things, and they didn’t get the chance often. But he had plans, and unfortunately those plans didn’t involve sleepy morning sex in his - their - bed. Maybe - definitely - soft afternoon sex, but sleepy morning sex would have to wait for another day.

“Why are you being so mean?” Brock groaned, blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

“I have plans.”

“Do those plans involve me sleeping?”

Elias shook his head with a grin, reaching with one hand to smooth down Brock’s rather spectacular bedhead. 

“Do we at least get to have sex?”

“It's raining,” Elias said. “Thunderstorm.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Emil and I used to make a pillow - fort? - when there were thunderstorms,” Elias shrugged, now slightly embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid but -”

The smile Brock sent him was achingly soft; he had to close his eyes for a moment, had to take a deep breath.

Being with Brock - loving Brock - was the easiest thing he’d ever done, easy as breathing. But sometimes Brock would look at him like this, with reverence that he didn’t deserve, and his breath would stutter in his chest.

“I’d love to build a pillow fort with you,” Brock smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose. So fort was the correct word. “One condition.”

“What?” ‘One condition’ was always dangerous; Brock could mean anything. 

“Cheat day?” Brock said pleadingly. “I want hot chocolate.”

Elias rolled his eyes. “Of course we have hot chocolate, it would not be a pillow fort without hot chocolate.”

“Marshmallows?”

“I don’t think we have marshmallows.”

He kissed Brock’s pout away, ignoring his morning breath.

“You are on pillow duty. I will get blankets.”

“Pillow duty’s the hard part,” Brock whined

Elias stuck out his tongue. “If you had woken up earlier maybe you could do blankets.”

“I hate you.” 

“You don’t. Brush your teeth so I can kiss you.”

“Fort sex?” He sounded hopeful, puppy dog eyes lethal.

Elias rolled off of him and turned to leave. 

“That wasn’t a no,” Brock called after him.

It definitely wasn’t, but Brock should at least brush his teeth first. And they couldn’t have fort sex without a fort.

-

“Oof, Petey, you’re pretty serious about your pillow forts,” Brock said as he shuffled the sofas around. Elias wasn’t watching the way his biceps bunched instead of moving his own furniture, of course not. He was a professional. He could leer at his boyfriend later (one look wouldn’t hurt, though)(he was only human).

“You have met me, yes?” 

“Ugh, you’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

It was coming along nicely, Elias supposed, even if it wasn’t even close to his and Emil’s calibre of fort, but nothing could beat those. There was the familiar pang of homesickness in his chest that he felt whenever he thought of home and his family, but then he looked over at a struggling Brock, and the pain lessened.

Because Brock was home too; as long as he had Brock, he was home.

Brock, who helped him whenever his English was poor and never complained when Elias asked him to repeat himself because he’d missed a word, who always did his best to use relatively simple language and talked slow enough that Elias could understand without feeling like he was being talked to as if he were a child; his English was better now, but it wouldn’t have gotten there without Brock’s help.

Brock, who didn't even question why he had to move around furniture on his day off, who trusted Elias so completely that all he had to do was ask and Brock would agree and go along with it.

“Blankets?”

“No, idiot. Pillows first.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Master Fort Maker,” Brock said with a deep bow.

“What, you never made a fort with your family?”

“I mean, I guess we did,” he shrugged. “But nothing like this.”

It was turning out to be more of a pillow castle, if Elias was honest. But pillow forts could get stuffy and cramped if they were too small, and he was planning on spending the whole afternoon in there, so he couldn’t have it be stuffy.

“Emil and I are very competitive,” Elias explained.

“Did one of you do blankets and the other pillows and have a competition for which was better?”

“So you aren’t just a pretty face.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Brock batted his eyelashes at Elias, who just shook his head. Brock paused to think for a moment before his eyes widened. “Wait, hey! I’m totally more than just a pretty face! I went to college!”

“So did Gauds,” Elias pointed out.

Brock face-washed him. “Whatever. Split pillow and blankets with me? Fifty/fifty. We’re not competing, we’re a team.”

Elias gasped and cupped a hand around his ear. “Hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s the sound of Bo crying because he’s proud of us for our incredible teamwork.”

Brock tackled him to the sofa, stifling his cackle with one of the remaining throw pillows. He had almost fifteen kilos on Elias, but Elias was used to being slight and managed to flip them and get his fingers underneath Brock’s ribs where he was most ticklish. His laugh turned into a giggle, as he struggled to get away. Eventually he stopped trying to fight back, though, choosing to stare up at Elias in the way that hurt to look at.

It was all he could do but stare back.

“Kiss?”

“One kiss.”

Brock grinned widely, because it was never just one kiss.

Elias rubbed their noses together once, before doing as he was asked.

If there was something he loved more than kissing Brock, Elias had yet to find it. Sex with Brock was great - the best he’d ever had - but he could kiss Brock for hours without growing bored. They didn’t have hours, though, and Elias was on a mission.

“Pillows now,” Elias gasped, pulling back. “Kissing later.”

“Petey,” Brock whined. “You’re so mean to me.”

“You like it.”

“Fifty/fifty?” Brock said again, ignoring Elias’s comment because they both knew it was true.

“Fifty/fifty.”

Pillow duty was easier than blanket duty, and it didn’t take long for them to finish placing them exactly where Elias wanted them.

“I think we should take a break because we did so well,” Brock huffed, standing up straight with his hands on his hips.

“No breaks.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you. If you take a break you won’t want to start again.”

“Fine, fine,” Brock sighed. “Blanket time?”

“Blanket time.”

Blanket time took longer than pillow duty, and by the end there were rubber bands involved, and a multitude of heavy objects holding down heavy duvets. 

“I think she looks good,” Brock nodded, hands back on his hips.

Elias hummed and hawed. “She’ll do.”

“She’ll do?” Brock answered in outrage. “She’s a beauty, the most beautiful pillow fort I’ve seen in my life.” 

“Are you going to leave me for a pillow fort, Boeser?”

He sniffed. “I doubt she would be so mean to me.”

“Go make hot chocolate, I’ll finish up.”

By the time Brock was back with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate - he hadn’t managed to find marshmallows, but there was more whipped creme than their diets allotted for - Elias was already in the fort.

“We left spots inside for our mugs, right?”

“Right,” Elias nodded, grabbing both mugs and setting them down inside the fort while his boyfriend climbed in.

He ignored the space left for him to climb on top of Elias, shuffling around until his head was tucked under Elias’s chin.

“Comfortable?”

“Very,” Brock sighed happily. “You took all the pillows, so I’m using you as one.”

“I didn’t take all the pillows -” Elias protested, laughing slightly.

Brock shushed him. “Pillows aren’t supposed to talk.”

“I guess pillows aren’t supposed to give blowjobs either.”

Brock immediately sat up as much as he could in the relatively small space. “Wow, that spot next to you suddenly looks very comfortable, isn’t that funny? I don’t need a pillow anymore!”

Elias rolled his eyes, tugging him back to his chest. “Drink your hot chocolate first.”

“Then blowjobs?”

“Then blowjobs.”

Brock did sit up then, but just enough to drink his hot chocolate. 

“I don’t want to make a mess of the fort, we spent a lot of time on it,” Brock said after a moment of sipping at hot chocolate and listening to the rain, eyebrows drawn together. He seemed genuinely worried about getting jizz in their pillow fort; Elias loved him so intensely it hurt.

“I’ll swallow, it's fine,” Elias waved away.

Brock choked on his hot chocolate. “Jesus Christ, Elias.”

Elias just hummed and listened to the crack of thunder outside. This was definitely a good way to spend a day off.

[aclosetfan]

hi so like

“i saw this and thought of you immediately”

if you want to for any ship HDHDHDHDHD

@over-under-through1 Okay, so, I gave ya greens last time, and you said ANY ship, so I decided to give my rare pair some love. And it’s just sweet pure brain rot. Anyway, as always, thanks for the prompt!!! 

Prompt: “I saw this and thought of you immediately” from the prompt list of ways to say “I love you” without actually saying it 😊 that whole list makes me go soft. Pairing: brick/bubbles 

Word count: 4696// this was supposed to be a drabble :)))))

Summary: I’ve got nothing witty to say. Bubbles just gives our boy a gift and he almost hemorrhages. 

(Bubbles’ love language would totally be gift-giving based on how crafty she is, my love language is definitely NOT gift giving so I hope this isn’t horrible)

Brick licked chip crumbs from his fingers as he flipped through the tv. On the floor, next to the recliner he had deemed his for the afternoon, his journalism partner—one seemingly disgruntled Blossom Utonium—was busy organizing their project into five hundred million different tasks. She was dividing them evenly, and despite her warnings and threats, he had already resigned to do his two hundred and fifty million assigned mini-steps last minute like usual. It was the same song and dance they did for every project they were paired up for, which was incredibly often and, frankly, not by choice, though now, he supposed he'd be a bit insulted if she went and picked a new partner after everything they had been through together.

Investigative Journalism 302 was supposed to be another blowoff class he had decided to take solely for the credits. Still, when it became clear to the professor that Brick wasn't going to be taking their class seriously, they had gone out of their way to ruin his life and pair him with Blossom Utonium. Despite the good A-quality content they churned out, it had not been an easy go around the first few times they had been paired together. They were too similar and too different in all the worst ways. She was too type-A to his type-B, and they were both too stubborn to admit when they were wrong. But, him and Blossom both had a penchant for sticking their noses in places they shouldn't, so somewhere along the line—probably around the time they had broken into More Co. to follow a lead and diffused a hostage situation at the Mayor's Manor—they figured it was easier to be friends, not enemies.

They were chalking up to be Townsville's resident Sherlock and Watson, except they both fancied themselves Sherlock and the other Watson, but, eh, what relationship was perfect?    

This time around, they were investigating some strange chemical. The only lead they had come from Blossom's own father. He had apparently said something "cryptic" over Sunday brunch that had launched Blossom into overdrive. Eavesdropping on one of her old man's telephone conversations, she had listened to him mutter about the letter X, failed mutations, a strict deadline, and an explosion that may or may not have been the same explosion at the 'abandon' smelting factory two weeks ago.

She took the information personally since it involved her father, but Brick had met the man before and didn't think there was an evil bone in his body. The lab he worked for, though, was an entirely different story. H.I. Mechanics was one hundred different kinds of shady.

Three days from now, Blossom had decided that he would need to have the, again, two hundred and fifty million preliminary tasks done before their big stakeout. She’d be lucky if he decided to do three of them, but he entertained her ramblings anyway because the longer he stuck around her place, the longer he got to bum her cable.

That had become their routine. Meet at Blossom's place, let her rant like an anal madwoman, ignore her in favor of the reality trash tv that he loved but could not afford at his own apartment, and then have whatever painstakingly thought-out plan Blossom had concocted backfire on them in the near distant future. The process was like clockwork.

"—and if we go in at that time, really, why would they refuse us entry? The records we're looking for should technically be public record, though they're no doubt redacted. We're going to have to—you're not listening to me, are you?"

"Yeah," he hummed, more focused on the reality tv season wrap-up reunion he was watching, then whatever she was talking about, "that sounds good."

"So, you're not." She snipped, and the tone of her voice caught his attention.

"Huh?" He glanced at her for a moment before looking back at the tv, "Not what?

"Listening to me." She gave him a cross look, stepping in front of the tv, "You're not listening to me.

"Whaaa?" He tried sounding offended as he attempted to shoo her out of the way, "Noooo, what gave you that impression?"

"Listen," she snapped her fingers in front of his face a few times, and he felt his face scrunch up in distaste—he wasn't a dog, "both of my sisters are going to be home soon, and I don't want them to get mixed up in all of this, so we need to drill out the details of this plan before they get home!"

Blossom lived with her sisters—Buttercup, and Bubbles—in a two-bedroom apartment close to the University in downtown Townsville. All three went to TownU, which wasn't too surprising to Brick. It was an incredibly good school, and he'd admit all three of them were smart, but still, three for three had to be a little weird, right? And to think, people accused him and his brothers of being joined at the hips.

He gave her a dry look as she walked back to her spot on the carpet. "We both know that's not how this works."

Blossom slammed the book she had opened shut, "You're impossible."

"I think you meant to say consistent." He spared her one last glance before settling back into the recliner, "Really, Bloss, how in the world do you think you'd be able to keep this one from them? At this point, my brothers just assume I'm at the center of the mayhem."

She tsked, but the lack of argument was deafening. After a moment, she sighed, and her shoulders dropped, "I just don't want them to get hurt. Not like last time."

"Don't know what you're so worried about." He drawled, "I recall them saving us, not the other way around."

"And I recall the scar that's now running up and down Butters' back." She shot back, "This time, there will be no mess-ups."

"Yeah, wanna bet on—"

"Home!" Buttercup's voice rang throughout the apartment as the front door was slammed open and shut, "How we feeling about take-out—Oh, sup, Brick. You good with Chinese tonight?"

"We're working on school stuff!" Blossom exclaimed, scrambling to cover up the more elicit details of their ‘homework.'

Buttercup rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip, "I can tell. What's it this time, huh? Something normal or is there a bomb threatening to reactivate the volcano in Townsville Central Park that I should be made aware of?"

"It's norm—"

"—mutants." He interrupted Blossom, "The man funding your dad's company is sups sketch."

Buttercup shifted on her feet and crossed her arms, "Does this have to do with that Chemical-X stuff dad was talking about?"

"Don't you have a shower you should be taking?" Blossom huffed, glaring at the both of them, "You just finished a run, I can tell; you smell like a pig."

"That's what tipped you off?" Buttercup snorted, "Not the copious amount of sweat dripping down my face? Hey," she nodded her head at them, "ask me how my run went."

Together, he and Blossom rolled their eyes and sighed, "How'd your run—"

"Really well, wow, thanks for asking!" Buttercup smiled, "I beat my average, sooo think hard about what where you want to order from for dinner tonight. We're celebrating! I already texted Bubs," Buttercup stuck her tongue out at them, "she was much more enthusiastic."  

"Then celebrate with her," Blossom frowned from her spot on the floor, fingering the edges of her notebook, "we've got a lot to finish tonight. I don't think we'll have—"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen here, hero-girl," Buttercup scowled, hands back on her hips, "you still gotta eat. Ima take a shower, you have till then to put the spy shit away. Speaking of spy shit," her glare shifted to him, "your brother done fixing my car yet?"

"Ask him, babe." He sniffed, looking pointedly at the tv, "I ain't the middleman."

He suppressed the urge to bulk as Buttercup lifted him up off the recliner by the collar of his shirt. A dark smile snuck its way across her face as she leaned close into him, "Considering the fact that you owe me for getting it destroyed in the first place, baby, then I think you are."

"A lesson in forgiveness would do you well, but fine, I'll ask." He sneered back, unwillingly to show the dread that ran up his spine when he saw the look in her eyes, "You do realize, though, it'd be faster if you just called—"

"Nope!" She sang, dropping him back down in the seat, like nothing had just transpired between them, "If he wants my number, he has to ask for it!" She walked down the hall towards the bathroom, "I don't make the rules."

He scowled, watching her walk away before turning his head back to Blossom, "She's lucky I owe her."

"You're lucky," Buttercup called from down the hallway, "that I saved your sorry ass!"

Blossom snorted, and he shot her a dirty look, "Don't encourage her."

"Oh, be quiet," Blossom snickered, "just watch TV like you always do, and I'll put—"

"I'm home!" A high, singsong voice rang through the house, as the door was once again thrown open, and his heart palpitated without permission. He forced his eyes to focus on the tv, and if Blossom noticed how he sunk low into the recliner, she thankfully didn't say anything.

"In here!" Blossom called back, and from the corner of his eye, he watched as Bubbles stuck her head around the corner. Quickly, he turned his attention back to the tv and tried his best not to seem at all interested as she practically danced her way into the room. She was always practically dancing everywhere she went. It was annoying.

"Blossy, oh my god, you will not believe what—Brick!" She exclaimed, shoving a finger in his face when she noticed he was in the room, "Wai—Brick Jojo! Do not move from that spot!"

He blinked and looked around at the spot he had forged for himself in their living room. His bookbag, snack bags, disregarded textbooks, and his jacket littered the space around him, and his body had imprinted into the recliner's seat cushions, so when he looked back at Bubbles and gave her a dry look, he meant it when he said, "Yeah, wasn't planning on it."

He looked away quickly when she beamed at him. Her smile was bright, sweet, and dimply, and also very annoying. People couldn't always be so immovably happy, could they?

Bubbles giggled and did a little hoppy-dance before she calmed down and looked back at him, "Ahhh, okay!" She wagged a finger at him, "You stay! I've got a surpriiiisseee for you."

"Again," He huffed, ignoring all the less-than-innocent surprise scenarios his traitorous brain played through, "wasn't going anywhere."

"If you're not going anywhere, why don't you actually do some work while you wait." Blossom's voice bit through the air, but he ignored her, going back to flipping through the tv.

"Yeeepp," He popped, his tone no drier than hers, "wasn't planning on that either."

 Blossom mumbled to herself and looked at Bubbles, "Before you go, can you help me with these books? I'm putting them in my bedroom."

Bubbles held out her arms, moving around the recliner and out of his field of vision, "No prob-lamo, chica! What's this all for?"

"Don't worry about it." Blossom brushed Bubbles off, and her sister giggled again.

"What?" The blonde snorted, "Is there a bomb in the volcano?"

He could practically hear the way Blossom stiffened, "Why does everyone keep saying—do people think there's a bomb in the—"

"Blossom!" He groaned, "I'm fucking hungry, hurry up."

She hmphed and stomped out of the living room with Bubbles presumably following, so he relaxed in his seat, ready to blow out the deep breath he was holding when Bubbles' visage filled his vision.

Her smile crinkled the corners of her baby blue eyes, and the back of his neck instantly warmed at the proximity. He wasn't one for people invading his personal space, but Bubbles literally had no freaking concept of it. She was always shoving her face in his. So, unfortunately, Brick was very aware of the sun freckles that littered their way throughout her cheeks and it was particularly distressing because staring at her face made it easier to forget the No Touching Rule he was pretty adamant about people following.

"Stay." She reminded him; her tone tinged with lingering laughter. This close, she smelt like the physical embodiment of a bakery, and it took a significant amount of willpower to pull his eyes away from her.

"Whatever." He mumbled.

With another giggle—always with the dumb giggling—she was gone, and he was finally alone to collect himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a string of particularly nasty curse words at himself. Objectively, he was well aware that Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were…attractive, but he was never actually supposed to be attracted to any of them. They were the girls. They were just the girls. Ever since he had known them, they had been just the girls.

Blossom had a stick up her ass.

Buttercup could probably disembowel him.

And Bubbles giggled and smiled.

And it didn't matter if she giggled and smiled at him. Because she giggled and smiled at everything. She was one of those people, the kind of person that gave someone their undivided attention in a room full of people. She was good at making people feel good about themselves. She didn’t do it just for him. No see, if he was attracted to Bubbles, which he wasn't, it was because she was very good at making all people feel seen. So, he wasn't special. He wasn't. And it just—she would…he wasn't used to people just automatically assuming the good in him. People so optimistic tended to avoid him.

The positive attention was just making his head spin, making things confusing, and that was it. He wasn't one of those sad, lonely guys who mistook niceness for flirting. He had a clear head on his shoulders. It was just attention he was unused to. And it was a kind of attention he didn't need. Bubbles was just a nuisance. Her personality was too sweet. They were so different. Even if he did actually end up somehow magically liking her, it wouldn't work between them in a million years.

Besides, everyone already knew that pretty social butterflies didn't actually go for anti-social dweebs. Real-life wasn't an overdramatic coming-of-age rom-com. Realistically, she probably went for guys like Boomer.

He let out a shaky breath and turned up the volume on the tv. Some housewife was crying about something laughably petty, but he couldn't find it in himself to smile.

A second later, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands clasped together over his eyes. He only relaxed when he heard Bubbles voice nice and warm next to his ear. "Peak-a-boo," she laughed, "guess who!"

He ignored the way her breath tickled his neck and frowned into the darkness, "A heart attack?"

"Oof, so close!" She snorted, releasing her hands from his face and leaning around the recliner, so he could see her smiling at him, "It's Bubbles!"

"Hello, Bubbles." He droned, not resisting the way his eyes rolled but fighting the way his mouth was trying to twitch into a smile.

"Ready for your surpriiisse!" She sang, walking around the chair so she could stand in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back. He pressed his way further into the recliner after their knees knocked together, distancing himself from her.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "What is it?"

"It's a gift!" She rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, still smiling.

"Okaayyy." He reached a hand out with grabby fingers, "Let's get this over with, give it here."

She tilted her head back and laughed, a real honest belly laugh, before she looked down at him again, and suddenly, he felt tiny under her gaze. "Oh, my goodness, Brick," She chided, "I'm not just gonna hand it to you! Close your eyes and hold out your hands!"

He adjusted the brim of his hat lower down his face and looked away, "I don't—"

"I said—" she repeated, reaching a hand out to pull his hat down completely over his eyes, "Close your eyes!"

"Fine." He hissed, trying to sound as grumpy as he was pretending to be and readjusted his hat as he shut his eyes, "They're closed. Happy?"

"Hold out your hands!"

He sighed but complied, and after a bit of shuffling on Bubbles' part, something small was placed in his hands.

"Okay," she announced, "now open your eyes!"

He opened his eyes and stared at the little…thing in his hands. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he figured it was some kind of fluffy…hat…keychain? He didn't know. He gave it a quizzical look before returning his stare to Bubbles.

"Ta-da!" she sang, accompanied by a pair of jazz hands, before she clapped them together, "Do you like it!"

"What��is it?"

There was a pause, and the smile on Bubbles's face fell away. "What is it!" She huffed, cheeks puffed out like an angry chipmunk, which was the worst angry face she could have because it just made her cuter, "It's a dog keychain!"

"This—" he held the keychain up for both of them to examine, "—is not a dog. It's a ball of fluff."

Bubbles' mouth dropped open, "It totally is! Look," she snatched it out of his hands, smooshing the fluff down so she could show off its' pointed ears, stubby little legs, and tail, "see! Puppy! A little Pomeranian! Baby puppy! Puppy, puppy, puppy!"

With something akin to bloodcurdling embarrassment pulsing through his veins, he watched as Bubbles continued to baby talk the offensive keychain, placing a tiny peck on its' small nose.

"And look!" She gushed, shoving it back into his face, "Look at its wittle red hat!" She squealed, bring it back to her so she could cuddle it to her face, "It's so cute I can't even!" Without warning, she dropped into his lap, which was around the same time his heart dropped into his stomach, "I saw it and thought of you immediately!"

He froze at the admission. He had never once thought of himself as someone who short-circuited very often, but people didn't compare him to a cute Pomeranian keychain very often either. In fact, he had been called a lot of things in his short lifespan—wiseass, smartass, punkass, there was a very consistent theme of derogatory titles thrown at him on the daily—but cute Pomeranian was not one of them. And, frankly, he couldn't say he was a fan.

"Are you comparing me to a Pomeranian?" He sneered, momentarily forgetting the fact that Bubbles Utonium was making herself comfortable on his lap, and he was neglecting to stop her.  

"Duh!" She said rather flippantly, pushing the brim of his hat up and off his face, so they could look at each other. Another definite no-no that he was too flabbergasted to address.

"I would not be a Pomeranian!" He argued when he collected his jaw off the ground.  

"Uhhh, yes, you would, lol." She argued back, playing with the fluffy little keychain in her hands. She kissed its face again, and in turn, his face only got hotter.

"Uhhhhhh," he mocked, "no, I wouldn't be."

She looked up from the keychain and gave him a somewhat patronizing look, "Yes, you would be."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

She laughed, "Brick, yes! You're just like a Pomeranian! You're super intelligent, curious, feisty, you like being the center of attention," she looked off for a second in thought, waving a hand in the air as she talked, "and you've definitely got some tiny dog syndrome in you."

He blinked at her, gaping, as his brain worked overload to find something to dispute in that analysis, but when he couldn't find any, he spat at her, "Why do you know all this shit about Pomeranians, huh?"

"They're one of my favorite breeds!" Her face lit up, "They're just so cute! I love them! And you remind me of them, so I got this for you!" She held the keychain up again, "It's so cute!"

His mind ground to a sudden halt as the words' cute' and 'love' and 'you' repeatedly echoed in his head. His heart hammered away in his chest, and in his panic, he contemplated throwing her off his lap and burning the whole apartment complex to the ground. What was one more arson charge on his record, anyway?  

"Bubs—stop saying…so what?" He asked, floundering before changing tactics. She wasn't the only one who could say embarrassing shit. "Does that mean you think I'm cute or something?" He flirted with a smirk, but it was only after the sentence left his mouth that he remembered Bubbles Utonium didn't get embarrassed. She smiled and giggled.

And that continued to ring turn even now, as she laughed, wrapping her arms around hia neck, she squeezed him. Only letting go of him slightly, to the bring the keychain up to his face, so she could bop the little dog’s nose and his nose together. "Of course!" She agreed, "Cute as a button!"

"N-no!" He sputtered.

"No," she pulled away from the crook of his neck, tilting her head in question, "what?"

"No," he sneered, "I'm not cute like a button."

She considered this for a second, tapping the keychain to her face, before shooting him a broad smile, "Handsome? Is that better?" Mirth tinkled in her big doe eyes, "You're our handsome boy?"

"That's worse!" He complained almost hysterically, running a frantic hand through his hair, knocking the hat he had somehow forgotten he had on from his head.  

"Aw, Brick, come on," She rolled her eyes, catching the hat before it fell to the ground and plopping it on her head, "what do you want me to say then?"

"The truth never hurt," He spat as if he hadn't lied through his teeth at least three different times this week to three professors that he couldn't attend class because his beloved family pet 'Insert Name Here' had died.

Bubbles pouted, "But I told you the truth! I think you're handsome!" She held up the keychain, and with a horribly fake and cheesy deep voice, she used the gift as a puppet, "You're the most handsomest boy in the whole world!"

She solidified her point by making the keychain kiss his nose once more before pulling back to gape at him, "Wow, see even Mr. Puppy agrees with me!"

"Oh, right," he shook his head, in mock agreement, "a handsome boy with little dog syndrome, right?"

"Well," she shrugged, waving him off, "I never said you were charming."

His retort was caught off with a giggle, and she made the keychain kiss his nose once, then twice, and then his breath hitched as a third wet kiss was planted on his cheek by Bubbles herself. She pulled back with a coy smile.

"Brick…" she hummed, trailing off, and something about her tone made him swallow thickly.

"Y-yeah." He finally pushed out after a moment.

"Can I play with your hair?" She asked, leaning forward, laying her head on his shoulder as she twirled a lock of his hair around her finger, and he swore his soul left his body. No one, absolutely no one, touched his hair. No one wore his hat. No one sat on his lap. And here she was. And here he was. And he wasn't stopping her like he should have been.

"Uhh, umm, I—uhh—"

"Bubs, jeez!"

He jumped, choking on his own spit, as Buttercup marched into the room, her hair still dripping wet.

"Seriously, personal space, you're making him uncomfortable." Buttercup huffed, one hand on her hip as he gestured to his face, which was probably redder than his hat.

"Uncomfy!" Bubbles shot up, and a guilty look flashed across her face as she took in his face, "Ah, shoot, sorry, is this too much?" She took her arms away from his neck and wrung her hands together, for the first time blushing, "I just get too excited sometimes! I have a lotta love in my heart, ya know?" She finished with a bashful chuckle.

The small distance between them actually made it a little easier to think again, but she didn't need to know that. Embarrassed by the noticeable flush of his face and his reaction to Buttercup catching them, Brick shrugged and looked away, "You're fine."

That was apparently not good enough for Bubbles because she pleaded again, "I'm sorry!"

"I said," he hissed, wishing she'd drop it, "you're fine!"

"I'm still so sorry!" Looking back over, he was surprised to see her lower lip wobbling, "I shouldn't have forgotten!" She put her hands on her face, squishing her cheeks, as tears began to well in her eyes, and he sent a frantic look over towards Buttercup, "I know you're not a hugger, I should have asked and—"

"—Bubs, he said he was fine." Buttercup interjected again, "Now, you're just making him uncomfortable all over!"  

Bubbles looked from Buttercup to him, back to Buttercup, and then finally to him once more. "You're fine?" She clarified, “This is okay?”

And all he could do was nod, "Yep."

Visibly relaxing, her eyes became less and less watery, and she shot him a relieved look.

"Sheesh." Buttercup mumbled and walked away, "zero to one hundred. Bloss!" She called out, "Come save your poor counterpart from the clutches of cuddly evil over here and let's order the food!"

"What!" Blossom called from her room down the hall.

With an exasperated huff on Buttercup’s part and something more frantic on his part, they both yelled out, "Food!" and there was a scoff from the bedrooms.

"No need to yell!" She shot back, "I'm coming!"

Buttercup shook her head before jabbing her thumb in the direction of their tiny kitchen and announced, "I'm getting the take-out menus."

Bubbles nodded and then, beamed when she noticed Blossom had walked into the room.

"Blossom! Look at this cute keychain I got for Brick!" She cooed, her eyes bright and excited again, which would have brought him some relief if she hadn't opened her big mouth and kept talking, "Doesn't it remind you of him? It's a Pomeranian!"

Face aflame once more, he snapped, "I'm not a Pomeranian!"

"Ho—ly shit!" Obnoxious laughter floated its way out of the kitchen that only made him grind his teeth, "He totally is!"  

"It's the little dog syndrome." Blossom agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder and ignoring the crude gesture he shot her way as she walked past him towards the kitchen, "BC, let's order from Lee's!"

"No way!" Buttercup argued, "Pa Changs!"

He turned back to Bubbles, who, despite it all, had yet to remove herself from his lap. He was about to make some remark about him pushing her off of his lap in the next three seconds, but the way her eyes flinted over his face made him pause. When she realized she had been caught staring, she smiled once more, bright and beaming, and his heart did another funny little dance.

"You like it, right?" She tilted her head, holding the keychain up so it dangled between them, "I…I can take it back if you want."

Her smile fell the slightest of fractions along with his heart.

"No!" His hand shot out, taking hold of the keychain, "It's—I like it, whatever." He sniffed and turned his head away, "So quit the kicked puppy shit, alright?"

Another smile. Another giggle. It felt like a sick joke, but Brick was pretty sure he was falling in love.

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

A/N: That’s right! It seems the only way I can write romance is with a shit ton of pining!!!! To love is to long, I guess. It’s a little awkward in some places, but it was for fun, so I decided to cut myself some slack and post it anyway! I hope you like it!!! The pairing doesn’t get a lot of love, but I think opposites attract dynamic is so so so cute.

Also, sorry this took me forever! First, I got distracted looking at cute dog pics and then halfway through writing the drabble I was like “hey what if I stuck Blossom in this and she and Brick solved mysteries??” So, then I lived with that AU floating around in my head rent-free, and now, finally, here we are. ANYWAY, in this AU, Blossom is in a very sapphic relationship with Princess, who, along with HIM, is the main antagonist. The Professor is the damsel in distress btws. Brick and Bubbles are disgusting cute. Boomer’s gay, who for tho?? Who knows! Not me! But he’s a freelancer, who’s hardcore freeloading off of Brick and Butch, and that’s all you really need to know. Buttercup has big Mom Friend vibes. Also, Butch is a mechanic and playfully flirts with Buttercup, which she thinks is funny until he actually starts really flirting with her, and then she’s like “um, sir, I am a maiden???” b/c she is actually both shy and a prude. (And you know I like my greens) Anyway, el oh el, it’s a good time.

inspo for the keychain (and brick):

[bforbbgirl]

Traqué

Summary - a young woman’s life is thrown into chaos when someone from her past comes back,showing that he will stop at nothing to fulfill his darkest desires. 

Warning - slow burn, language, mention of drug use, smut, themes of stalking and other tw things.

Purdue World Banking was one of the top banks in Los Angeles, used by some of the richest families and business tycoons from around the world. You were rarely phased by the uppity types that in through those doors, often times you plaster on a fake smile, handle all the checks and cash and then send them on their way like normal.

It was a boring job to say the least but it paid well, it also helped that you quickly made friends with two other clerks named Travis and Nikki, both of them made the long hours easier. Both their personalities mixed well, even though you were slightly quieter than than them, you still always had made and teased one another.

A light tap on your shoulder breaks you out of your thoughts, glancing to your right, Nikki wears a playful grin before her eyes flicker to the revolving doors, the tall, build man that’s been haunting your dreams for the last six month coming in. He walks almost with a cocky strut, his long legs carrying him with this air of confidence that you noticed the moment you’ve met him. It was at random that day he came in, you were still training still getting to know the ropes when he came to your window.

Being your first time left alone, you were a little flustered stumbling over the keyboard and Lewis was there, smiling sat sweetly and even cracking a few jokes put you at ease, it did help the fact that he was easy on the eyes too. After that day, he’s always made it a point to come too your line, he was always friendly and patient, sometimes you think he would prolong the conversation, not that you were complaining that much.

You feel your smile growing as he walks closer, pull his sunglasses off his face as his smile widens as well, “Hi there gorgeous.”

Your cheeks grow warm from the compliment and you playfully roll your eyes, continuing typing away on your on you keyboard, “good afternoon, Mr. Tan.”

Lewis smirks, leaning against the counter as he shakes his head. “I thought I said you didn’t have to call me that?”

You spare him a glance before going back to your desktop, you already had his information up on the screen ready to go but you actually liked to banter with him. Once he was done openingly checking you, he passes you a heavy envelope and his ID. He never really brought up what he did for a living and you never made it a point to ask him but you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering form time to time. After finishing up the processing and a few flirty exchanges, you expected him to give you his signature wink before disappearing out the building him but this time he stayed behind, talking to you more since it was relatively slow today. 

“So, a new bistro just opened up a few blocks from here,” Lewis says, his fingers toying with the rim of his sunglasses.

You had your chin rested in your palm, taking in his appearance noticing the small tattoos on his hands and you often wonder if he had more. “Mhm, it looks good and the reviews have been hyping it up but its been packed there nonstop; heard you couldn’t even get seating outside!” Shaking your head, you mumble a complaint about LA being too much, earning a chuckle from Lewis before he looks back down, almost like he’s thinking something.

He soon clears his throat after a moment a of comfortable silence falls between the both of you, “well, if you’re free tomorrow night, I was thinking about checking it out and I’d love too have you come with me.” His voice was low now, holding your attention for a moment before you register what he had just asked you. Lewis just asked you on a date to one of the restaurants that you’ve been wanting to visit for the past two weeks now, you have had a crush on this man for a while now but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, you try but fail to hide your frown and from the way his playful smirk slowly drops makes your heartache.

Realizing your answer without you having to say anything, you both try to apologize rushing it out at the same time to try and bypass the awkwardness of the situation and you couldn’t of felt even more worse.

“I-“

“Hey, it’s fine really I’m big boy, I can handle rejection.” Lewis says, standing tall and wearing that smirk that has your thighs pressing together. You were attracted to him, he was funny and cocky in away that any other man it would off doughy like, but with Lewis you just knew he wasn’t all talk.

So why were you hesitating?

You think back to last weeks session with doctor Moorse and how she’s been pushing you, at your own pace of course, to start to become more open to ‘putting yourself out there’. Besides Nikki and Travis, you didn’t know anyone in this city and you preferred to keep it that way but after some more convincing from doctor Moorse to at least try so that’s what you were going to do.

Quickly, snatch the receipt you had handed too him, confusing him as you write you number down before handing it back, finding the counter more interesting for the moment, missing a wide smile on his face when he sees your number.

“I’ll text you later?” his voice sounded hopeful and you nod, catching a glance of him before he leaves.

*************

You were nervous. 

After Lewis had left yesterday, you had been a mess. A date!? You couldn’t even remember the last time you have even gone out on a date, it must of been years. At the thought, you feel your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach.

‘I can’t do this..’

You were already having second thoughts, you didn’t know if you were ready or not to put yourself back out there and you’ve been now sitting on your couch all morning battling all the ‘what ifs’. Your phone vibrated next to your bouncing leg and see it’s from Lewis.

Lewis: I’m excited for tonight! :)

A small smile tugs on your face, you’ve been texting back and forth a little since you gave him your number and it was nice, he was still being sweet and funny, you liked talking to him too but still, you couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your head warning you to not leave the house. Feeling like you were driving yourself crazy, you quickly dial doctor Moorse number, who picks up on the second ring.The conversation had taken up most of your day as by the time you had gotten off the phone with her, you only have an hour left to get ready.

“Don’t give him the power to control your life anymore, Y/n. He can’t hurt you anymore..” 

You had repeated those words over and over to yourself while getting ready. Moorse reminded you that, you had moved all the way here to LA as a means to start fresh and that’s what you were going to do.

Smoothing down the front of the satin red dress you had tucked away in your closet, you had thought you’d never get to wear that again but glad that you were.

You and Lewis both agreed to meet up around eight and it was already ten minutes til; you had arrived a little earlier, taking a look around the area before you finally decided to park across the street since it’s free parking for today.

Soon, you find yourself walking the pavement towards the busy restaurant, hearing laughter and chatter from guest already seated, it doesn’t take you long to spot Lewis who was already outside waiting, chatting with the two younger men were parking the guest cars. As you make your way over, you can’t help but to take him in, getting the clear height of him. You knew he was tall but from sitting behind counter made it harder to fully take him in; his hair was cut and styled as the black suite and tie combo worked well for him, highlighting his muscular frame that, apart of you would be lying, if you weren’t even the slightly curious about how good he would look outside of that suite.

A low whistle comes from one of the younger guys, drawing Lewis attention to behind him and his jaw nearly dropped on the floor.

“Wow, hi..”

You couldn’t stop the grin from spread across your face as his eyes dance across your figure from head to toe, any other man and you would of squirmed in disgust but with Lewis you actually wanted his attention, wanted his gaze to stay focus on you and you had gotten your wish.

Dinner was going smoothly, after ordering a food and drinks, you had felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him as he was sharing more about himself and you were giving him bits and pieces but he didn’t push you to share more than what you were comfortable with. The more he spoke, the more you found yourself growing more and more attracted to him, from his ability to transition from one topic to another with ease, always keeping you on your toes with the flow on conversation. If he wasn’t filing in the conversation, he was attentive, listening and giving you his full attention and you find yourself liking it.

The waitress had finish clearing off the plates after dropping off new drinks for you both, you were only on your second glass which surprised you as well.  Lewis had just got done showing you pictures of his dog when his phone vibrate.

“Maybe you should take it?” You had asked, throughout the night, his phone has been going off with notifications, you didn’t mind too much but he insisted on just ignoring it but now, a small curse leaves from his lips as he glances down at his phone before sighing. 

“Uh, yeah it’s work I’m sorry sweetheart.” his voice showed a sign of annoyance, having to leave to take the call in the middle of his date wasn’t something he had wanted too do, in fact he was planning on ignoring the call all together but you insisted on him answering it. “I’ll be back.” with that, Lewis had quickly gotten to head out, giving a wink before you hear him answering the call as he heads out towards the front.

You take a sip from your glass of wine, glancing around the establishment at the other guest dining, watching the waiters and bussers moving about but one figure stops your gaze making your blood run cold.

‘No..’

Blinking a few times, you look back towards the other side of the room nearing the kitchen. Your mind had to be playing tricks on you, it had to be but as you glance in the same direction, he’s still there, only this time he was making his way through the crowd and towards you.

‘He’s not real..’

Two steps during into two strides.

‘He’s not real...’

He runs a hand down his chin as a wicked smile soon dawns on his face, his eyes growing darker the closer he got.

‘He’s not-’

You didn’t give yourself time to think, grabbing your clutch you move as fast as your heels would let you and you didn’t look back. The warm breeze from the summer night rushes into your lungs as you step out the restaurants, feeling like you were already out of breath.

“Y/n?” Glancing over to your left, you see Lewis standing with his phone pressed against his ear but he already looked two seconds away from ending the call. Shaking your head, you let out an shaky apology before taking back off towards your car as fast you can, fearing that looking back would give him time to catch you.

Ignoring your name being called, you make in towards the parking lot and frantically looking for you keys. Everything was felt like a blur too you as you piled out the parking lot, hands barely able to grip the steering wheel as you speed through traffic.

You dial the one person you knew, knew just how heavy this situation was. After the third ring, your sister had finally picked up, “Hell-”

“He’s back, Mya I saw h-him, I-I-”

“Whoa, hold on Y/n, what are you-”

You pull too a red light, a sob leaving your lips as you try to keep it together but you couldn’t. “It was him Mya, I saw him just now and-and he saw me.”

A sigh comes from the other end. “Y/n, are you sure?”

“Yes!” You shouted, wiping your tears quickly.

“Matt, he’s back!”

***************

Taglist: @royallyprincesslilly​ @chaneajoyyy​ @honeychicanawrites​ @munteanhorewrites​ @night-of-the-living-shred​ @fumbling-fanfics​ @crushed-pink-petals-writes​ @dc41896​ @blackwomanwriter​

A/N: So, i’m a dummy and accidentally posted this without finishing it so if you read it, i’m sorry lol. This is a new series that I have been working on for a while but just haven’t been able to write until now. English isn’t my first language i am sorry for the misspell of words. 

If you would like to be tagged(or untagged), please let me know!!

[purplepalmdelight]

seven months to forever (robin/reader)

(aka @nxncywheeler came up with some really cute headcanons about snuggling with robin and i had to write smth. so i did <3)

"Goodnight," Robin says, slumping hopelessly onto the couch. She tugs the blanket you'd had around your shoulders over herself, snuggling down into it until she's a fuzzy blonde and blue burrito.

"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," you feel compelled to point out. Robin arches a brow at you, which isn't nearly as scathing as usual when it's coming from a bundle of fleece. You arch one right back. Judgement can go both ways in this friendship.

Robin breaks the stare-off with a huff and flops onto her side. "It's goodnight o'clock in the afternoon," she retorts. It is not.

You go back to your book, because arguing with Robin is like arguing with a deaf rock. The protagonist is an idiot. It's sort of funny, though. You never used to read for fun; you've always tended towards action movies, or rollerblading, or, like, skinny dipping. You know, interesting things. But Robin likes to read, and you like Robin, and seven months into some sort of friendship, you've started picking up novels now and again. The ones she reads to you, mostly, because you always get distracted by her voice when she's talking and it's too hard to focus on the story.

Seven months of friendship. Wow. You sneak a glance over to her, feeling yourself smile before you can help it. Robin is… she's amazing. You haven't read enough books to know the words to describe her yet. But she's captivating, fascinating, enchanting. She's endearing. She's amazing. She's always been in your class, but the two of you hadn't crossed paths. You had different social circles. Her with her nerds, and you with… you with… weirdos, mostly. Robin is a weirdo too, but in a different way. She's funny in the head, but she's… she's funny in the head, yeah. God, Robin is such a freak.

It's important that she knows that. "You're a freak."

A bedraggled blonde head pops up from under the blankets. Her face is twisted into a pout. "What'd I do?" You shrug. "Bully." She kicks out at your thigh, but she's all tangled up in the blanket, so it's just her whole body kind of vaguely flailing in your direction. "You're bullying me. This is why I like Steve more than you."

"Steve's a bully!" You protest. How dare she compare you to him? "He stole my cookie!"

"In second grade!"

"He was in fourth! He should have known better!"

Robin just rolls her eyes at your (incredibly justified) irritation and wiggles again. She hits you with her toes. A moment later, your book hits her toes. She yelps. "Y/N!"

You blink at her with a sweet smile. "What? I dropped it." You did not. She scowls at you again, but you can see laughter twitching underneath it. You settle back against the couch and find your spot again.

Seven months have passed easily like this. You may not have been close friends with Robin all your life, but it feels like it. There's something beautiful about it, these lazy afternoons with cheap fantasy novels and the muted television playing whatever movie she'd insisted on when she got here. The sunlight pools on her hair, turning it into gold. She's like Medusa, sort of. When you see her, you turn to stone for a moment; your whole body freezes for a moment to take her in. Robin is too much to take in at just a glance. She's overwhelming. She's intoxicating. She's this bright sunlight of her own, one that washes over you whenever you think of her, keeping you warm. She keeps you warm.

Yes, it's easy to be Robin's friend. Seven months have passed easily, and you think seven decades will pass just the same. It would be easy to spend the rest of your life with her.

It should be scary how easily that thought comes to you, but it's never scary with Robin.

You set your book down, quite suddenly seized with the urge to give your best friend the affection she deserves. She yelps as you lay down on top of her. You ignore it. She wiggles, kicking at you through the blanket, but her little grin is poking up at you, and you don't budge. Her nose is crinkled with her happiness. It's the cutest damn thing you've ever seen. "I love you."

Robin's cheeks flush pink. She burrows down further into the blanket. "I love you too," she mumbles, her voice muffled. You can't help but laugh at her. "Shut up. Get off me, bully."

You rearrange yourself, getting comfortable. "I bullied you once."

"You bully me all the time," she argues. "Now get off me. Meanie. Oppressor."

You pout at her and earn an eye roll. She does some kind of full-body flop trying to dislodge you, which fails miserably. Her nose crinkles up again. This time, you can't help but lean in and kiss the tip. "I never bully you. I never have, not even once ever."

"Yesterday you called me a watermelon," she retorts, which is unfair. True, but unfair.

"I like watermelon!" you protest. "That's a compliment! Ungrateful brat."

She sticks her tongue out at you, and you have the brief, absurd urge to poke it with your own. "I feel so complimented knowing you want to eat me," she replies drily.

There's a pause while you wait for her to pick up on it.

"Shut up."

You burst out laughing again and let her push you off the couch, tumbling onto the floor. It's only a moment before she's leaning over, her hand fumbling for yours. You grasp it instinctively and squeeze tight. Robin has nice hands. They're soft, but strong. Warm. Her sunlight is even sweeter when you're holding her hand. She tugs at you. "What do you want?"

"Come up here," she whines. "Cuddle me." You remain on the floor, arching a brow at her like she always does at you. It's nothing of a deterrent. She just tugs at your hand harder. "Y/N, I want hugs," she says sternly.

"You pushed me off."

She pauses, clearly trying to come up with an argument. There's a few beats of silence before she scoffs and pulls again. "If you don't cuddle me, I'll die." She's pouting. Shit. The puppy dog eyes. Robin's too cute to hit you with puppy dog eyes.

"Uh-" you try to keep focused on your argument, but she sticks her lip out further, and you want to kiss her, and-

Wait, what?

The sudden wave of confusion that crests over you must weaken your resistance, because Robin hauls you up onto the couch and then situated herself on top of you, draped along your entire body. "There. Now you can't get sneaky and escape," she says, sounding very satisfied with herself.

"I didn't escape. You pushed me off."

She kisses your cheek sweetly. "Shut up, bully."

You can feel yourself turning red. You tell yourself it's just the heat, though, and the tingling feeling flooding your body isn't from the sparkle in her eyes. How could it be? It's Robin. It's your best friend. "Watermelon," you tease.

When she laughs, you want to kiss her.

You don't.

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Just a Literati trifle in celebration of GG’s 20th Anniversary Week. I still have another chapter or two to write but I wanted to get this out before the event officially ended. (Canon compliant + OS + divergences)

Also here: (AO3)

Enjoy! 

xx Ashlee Bree

An Archive of Words Between Us

One day, many weeks into it but still no closer to clarity about what it is between them, Rory does what she does best: she makes a list.

Marked at the beginning, from when she and Jess first met, she soon starts to add to it with frightening regularity. A new entry comes any time there’s news, insight, questions, or growing confusion to report. She writes it all down. Out. She compiles everything in a beat-up old notebook she’s taken to carrying around.

Over the years that follow it becomes a confessional of sorts for her, a still developing story. She reaches for a pen whenever the mood strikes, and writes…then writes some more…

Committing to paper all the things they’ve said to each other over the course of their history, as well as many of the things they didn’t.

- i. things we said when we were strangers -

“Hey, Dodger, wait a minute,” she calls out before he disappears behind the gazebo. “Is this a gimmick of yours? Do you always write margin notes in the books you steal from strangers?”

Jess stops. Casts a cursory glance over his shoulder before turning back around with hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Depends, I guess.”

“On?”

“Does it matter?”

Rory shrugs.“You could be a literature-defacing miscreant on the lam for all I know. Your face might be tacked to Wanted posters all over New York City. I’ve got to edge my bets, protect my assets.”

“What,” he says, “you aiming to sentence me without a trial or something?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you’re going to bust out the cuffs already, Judge Judy,” he chuckles, raising his hands in supplication before rocking backwards on his heels like he’s been shot. “That’s not very neighborly.”

“Sounds like there’s evidence to be had if I dig a bit.” A pause. A teasing quirk of an eyebrow. “Is there?” she asks.

Though he stays silent at this, a spark of something catches deep in his dark eyes as their gazes meet, and Rory's stomach flips.

“Well?”

“You tell me,” he says, all smooth and inscrutable and James Dean cool as hell.

“I’m no Agent Scully at the FBI, but the truth is out there. Don’t think I won’t uncover it,” Rory replies, her wit flowing strong and sure. “If I think it’s warranted I could hire Kirk to lay chase for a while…he likes detecting. Takes payment in Skittles, too. Boxes of which I will have no trouble acquiring, I assure you.”

“Who the hell’s Kirk?”

“Let me worry about that,” she beams back at him coyly, bouncing the book he’d pilfered earlier against her hip.

“Save your Skittles, concerned citizen. I’m clean.”

“Oh, yeah? And why should I believe you when I hold proof to the contrary?”

“Because—” Ambling backwards in the middle of the street, a crooked smirk forms along the corner of Jess’s mouth as he gives her one last idle loll of his shoulder. “I only leave notes for people who might appreciate them. Start with the one on page three, by the way,” he adds with a farewell salute. “It’s a doozy.”

Curiosity piqued, Rory ignores the warmth in her chest as she watches him turn to leave a second time. Instead, she buries her nose in the margins of Howl and peruses. Losing herself in his tiny blocked script the whole walk home.

- ii. things we said because we were lying to ourselves -

Pacifying the town's fears about their friendship isn’t easy.

Especially not after Jess outbids her boyfriend at the basket-bidding festival to win an afternoon of her company. Or the night he shows up on her doorstep unannounced, bearing food and intellectual discussion after she swears to everybody else she wanted to spend the evening alone. Or when he wrecks her car on their way back from a spontaneous hunt for ice cream cones.

Then there’s the time she misses Lorelai’s graduation because she’s stuck on a bus next to some scruffy-looking creep who spits chew into a soda can while he mumbles the names of state capitals under his breath in an Appalachian-sounding litany, Rory having skipped town impulsively to visit Jess in the Big Apple after Luke had sent him packing because of an accident that had no real bearing or blame. At least not unless it was half hers to share in, too, in any case.

She expends a lot of energy defending what they are to people. Clarifying what they’re not.

Pretty soon a truncated version of the truth skips from her mouth like a message she’s spent months concocting, memorizing, and then recording, with her smart enough not to speak it aloud until it sounds convincing. And it does. She makes sure of it.

Tensions abate after that, for a time. Mostly because of the distance.

Mom and Dean, in particular, seem to breathe easier with so much of it stretched between them. They’re much happier once Jess is no longer there to lurk around Luke’s, or clog the aisles of Doose’s, or stake out chalkperson outlines on the sidewalks of town where he can draw her closer to him. Too close for comfort, as far as anyone else is concerned. Even if his only aim in doing so had been to imbibe her in intellectual conversation.

Rory finds it funny how his absence from Stars Hollow makes it both easier and harder for her to placate everyone’s misgivings. The words may be simple to say, but the meaning behind them feels deflated. Half-bodied at best.

Like calculus, it causes her headaches. Forces her to work twice as hard to make everyone believe she doesn’t care that he’s gone and likely never coming back again. That the vacant space he’s left behind doesn’t sting whenever her gaze passes over it, remembering.

Exhausting though it is, however, she does her best. She makes the effort.

She starts by dolling out extra attention and assurances to Dean about her commitment to him. To their relationship. Then she pivots around mention of Jess’s existence to her mom because she knows she doesn’t approve of him let alone agree about any of his good qualities. With Lane, she focuses on school and Mrs. Kim and music they can add to her floorboard collection. And in front of Luke, so as not to burden him with more disappointment, she acts as if nothing is different. Pretends that nothing much has changed.

Omission quickly becomes a habit for Rory. A way of life.

Only once does exposure threaten to spoil everything when her mom confronts her openly one afternoon about a placeholder that’s slipped out of her copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls.

“It’s nothing,” Rory says as she makes a quick grab for it in the kitchen and blushes.

“Really? Because nothing to me looks a hell of lot like a paper plate fragment. One that’s smudged in pizza grease and blue scribbles.” Laughing, completely unaware of her daughter’s wide-eyed discomfort and humiliation, Lorelai hands it back to her without inspecting it closely. “I’m surprised by your choice is all. Messy and makeshift isn’t your typical bookmark M.O., hun.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when Paris accosts you at the break bell. You drop things. People jump, drinks spill. Beloved bookmarks go soaring…”

“Ah. I take it she was yelling in dog decibels again?”

“More like she put out an APB on all aliens living a few hundred million lightyears away and then gave them exact shouting coordinates for where to find her. So same difference, really.”

Her mom snorts. Passes over the ranch dressing.

“She’s a pill, that one. I’m telling you Pink wrote that song with her in mind.” Shaking her head, Lorelai closes the fridge behind her as she bites into another French fry. “So how’d you come by the plate?” she asks, her mouth full.

“It was spontaneous. I was running late so I nicked it from the cafeteria on my way out,” Rory lies, knowing full well Chilton never dispenses paper or plastic dishes for dining.

“Oh.” Her mom considers this. “Well, I suppose there were times even Madeleine Albright couldn’t find anything better to use in a pinch. That was very…replateful of you.”

“What can I say,” she exhales with relief, feigning amusement as her fib is accepted with alacrity, “the Forks was with me.”

“Only the Forks? Don’t tell me you’re leaving out the spoons and the knives. How could you?” says Lorelai, aghast, as she scoops stray kitchen utensils to press them against her chest in a bodily cuddle. “It’s cutlery discrimination!”

“No, it’s punning.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” A pause. A nibble of pizza. “Also, Shakespeare would agree.”

“Psssh, Shakespeare! That old killjoy,” her mom says dismissively, rolling her eyes in good humor as she tucks a box of strawberry Pop Tarts under her armpit and motions toward the living room. “What’s that you have written on the inside there, anyway? French? Calculus? Rolling Stone lyrics? A blueprint for the evil plan you’ve hatched to shoot Grandma to the moon? I’m dying to know.”

Waving her off, Rory tucks the shard back into the spine of her book where it belongs. Hiding it from view. “It’s for school,” she assures her as they settle onto the sofa.

“So tell me about it. I don’t care if it’s boring.”

“Pass.”

“Come on! I could use a good Chilton-instigated snooze.”

“Too bad. No beauty naps for you.”

Lorelai pouts, fake affronted. “Rude!”

(Turns out that ‘shard,’ that ‘thing for school’ which is stuck between the pages of Rory’s Hemingway, isn’t boring at all. In fact, it has a history. A story. The truth is it’s a souvenir she’s saved ever since she and Jess talked books over pizza at Antonioli’s on basket-bidding day.

Toward the end of the meal he’d ripped off a piece of plate so he could jot down his phone number and a quote. Only sliding it into her hand, folded in half, crinkled up like a note passed between desks at school, in the moments before they parted ways and headed home.

It’s stupid she’s kept it. She realizes that now. Stupider still to slip it between the pages of each new book she reads or unfurl it in the privacy of her bedroom to puzzle out if the line he’d included from A Moveable Feast is meant to have double meaning:

“We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and [liked] each other,” it reads.

Stupidest of all, she can’t seem to bring herself to stop looking at it. To throw the darn thing away. A note…a number…a greasy sliver of paper plate!)

“Like I said, Mom,” Rory swallows before smiling over at her convincingly, “it’s nothing. Really.”

- iii. things we said on the verge (of something) -

In early June, Sookie’s wedding day arrives.

Things are static again. Serene. Normal.

Granted, slight changes do sprinkle into the mix here and there because of her dad’s presence, because Dean holds her a little tighter around the waist now than he once did, but mostly it’s the same here as it’s always been. Pleasant people fade into gossip and nonsense while fun blurs into peculiarity.

Life feels simple once more. A tad plain and colorless, maybe, but simple.

Then Jess returns to town on a whim or a fluke or a who the devil knows what he’s thinking and everything goes sideways, pear-shaped, belly-up-and-down in seconds because this is the last thing she’d been been expecting and suddenly the only thing that registers is the length of the grass plus the number of steps it will take to close the distance between them. All that matters is he’s here, he’s back, he’s near enough to touch, and she’s smiling so hard she can hardly breathe as she drinks him in from head to foot like a glutton: her pulse leaping, her heart lurching free from the cage of her chest.

The whole world tilts. Collapses. The pale yellow of the sun shines down like a spotlight so it’s only a rippling alcove she sees. Just him, just her. Just them canopied beneath these flittering fronds of green.

Any rational thought Rory possesses scatters across the wind with the pollen. And then before she knows it, the ground tilts out like a ramp underfoot.

It pushes her forward. Outward. Sliding her toward him until she’s thrust and tangled in his arms with no memory at all of how she got there, or why their mouths feel so hot and wanton like this, so damn unsatisfied. It all seems impossible considering they’re still pressed together in a kiss that can only be described in one way: illicit.

“Not a word,” Rory pants when they stop and Jess pulls back, his jaw taut, his expression shuttered, to nod once understanding.

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise me.” The huskiness of her voice feels at odds with this demand, with the trembling fist she still has curled in the lapel of his jacket, but she cannot think about her stinging mouth or his tongue right now so she clings to desperation instead. “Can you do that?”

“Okay,” he repeats, all eyes, eyes, eyes. And with that single look, she forgets to breathe let alone digest anything he’s promised.

In the end, it’s an impulse that overtakes them not a decision. It’s a moment of clandestine passion they share, not a confession that will alter the circumstances any.

And yet it’s guilt, not regret, that begins to pull like an anchor in her belly until she’s running in shoes that chafe the back of her heels. It’s terror and confusion, not apology, that ripples along her nerve endings until she’s dashing through the trees like a coward or a swindler because she needs to believe behind her there’s still a haven of black and white she can cross with both feet.

Only when Rory stops does she feel the change. Does she discern the difference. It takes one sting, one breathless stitch in her side, for her to know she’s tumbled forward into color without noticing.

Looking down, and there it is. His name already singed across her chest in scarlet letters.

- iv. things we whispered on the hood of your car -

“Tell me something no else knows.”

“About what?” he asks around midnight the following April, the two of them sprawled on the hood of his car at a deserted rest stop off the I-95 on their way back from a concert in the city.

“You, silly.”

“Funny you’re thinking about penning my biography already, Churchill. I’m honored, truly, but aren’t I too young for that sort of enumeration?”

With a roll of her eyes plus a protracted har-har, Rory lifts their intertwined hands, watching, mesmerized, as their fingers thread then unthread as they lay side-by-side parked beneath the Big Dipper in this forsaken parking lot. Though they’ve been together about six months now, prying Jess open has been slow work. It’s like taking a crowbar to cement: one chip, one crack, one crumble at a time.

“Stop deflecting, Mariano,” she warns. “Evasion’s for chumps.”

“Fine,” he sighs. She presses a kiss of reward against his knuckles before curling tighter into his side. “How about this: every year roughly sixteen hundred people in New York City are bitten by other humans.”

“Bitten?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“That’s just it,” he says in his best horror story voice, “could be vampires, could be cranky commuters, could be urban mania or road rage…nobody knows.”

“Oh, please. As if I’d let you off the hook with that obvious dodge. You’re killin’ me here, Smalls!” Rory says with an elbow rib and tsk. “Second of all, you so made that biting thing up.”

When she edges her head back onto his shoulder to look at him, Jess drags his pointer finger down her forehead before bopping her affectionately on the nose, his expression neutral.

“Didn’t you?” He shrugs in that cute off-the-cuff way of his then smirks into her hairline. “That’s unbelievable!”

“It is what it is.”

“So, what,” she says as she throws her leg over his hip to lug him closer, her arm already stretched out across his middle, “is there a case of zombiepox going around that the CDC has neglected to inform us about? Because I’ve got to tell you if that’s so then I’ll need an inoculation ASAP, mister! Frazzled, bloodshot, and half-rotted is not a good look for me. It just isn’t.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Hey!” she exclaims.

“No offense, critter of Frankenstein,” he chuckles, absorbing her retaliatory swat with a grunt and rolling her further on top of him, “but I’ve seen you pre-coffee. It isn’t pretty. We’re talkin’ bolts out your neck, monster glares, frothing purple mouth and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep up your running tally and you might find I bite you next. Rory the Ripper does have a nice alliterative ring to it—you best remember that,” she warns all narrowed eyes and silky breath and arms folded under her chin.

Jess cocks his left eyebrow, brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. “Idle threats don’t scare me, Gilmore.”

“They should.”

“Maybe.” A lazy grin forms at the edges of his mouth. “But yours don’t.”

“Fine,” she blows out a breath. With her head resting in the center of his chest, Rory fixes him with one long steady look, her voice dropping an octave lower as it drains free of sarcasm to assume a more serious edge. “Name one thing that does then. That scares you, I mean,” she says.

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he fidgets so long beneath her that by the time he settles with his hands clasped behind his head, lost in thought and translation, peering up at the sky, she’s half convinced that silence or deflection is the best she can hope to expect from him in reply.

Reticence is a quality she’s come to recognize in Jess. It’s one she can reflect back at him in part because they’re both cut from the same quiet, introspective cloth. However, it’s also one that restricts her access to his thoughts and feelings when she most wants it, and that can take a toll. Makes her wonder if they’re parked at different weigh stations in this relationship or not.

It’s bizarre to reconcile how she can understand him so well in some contexts, to the point where she can predict his next reaction or sense a good joke hanging in the periphery that's about to descend; while in others, he’s a total head-scratcher. Like a Sudoku puzzle with numbers that don’t add up to anything.

The silence between them continues to stretch. It becomes an awkward, formless wall.

The stillness, too, which is illuminated only by the light of the moon and the faint din of the car radio, hangs between them until he draws her up his body and folds her over him with a green plaid blanket. His fingers tracing languid strokes up and down her spine.

“Swans,” he says at last, his tone subdued. Scratchy. “Swans scare me.”

“What else?”

“Tennis balls. They’re too small and fast as they zip past. I hate how they can leave imprints on your face like ugly yellow snitches.”

“Okay then. Weird but fair. What else?” Rory asks all warmth and eagerness, her eyes searching his for something he wouldn’t want to slip free.

“Pennywise.” Though she snickers at that, it’s a valid fear. Clowns unsettle her, too. Evil ones especially. She’d had nightmares for eight months after she’d read Stephen King’s It for the first time, and had taken to sleeping with the bedside lamp on for years.

“Anything more?” she asks.

“Cricket bats.”

“Ooh-ho!” Poking him, “So Mrs. Kim got to you, did she?”

“Listen, I tried to be cool and unaffected but who knows what would’ve become of my head if she’d taken a swing with that thing?” Jess shudders at the same time she imagines Humpty Dumpty and laughs. “Jeez.”

“Things would’ve gotten messy,” she adds honestly.

He stalls a moment, then blinks back at her all wariness to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “How messy are we talking here?”

Rory cocks her head and bites the corner of her mouth, musing. “Think pumpkins.”

“Smashed ones?”

“Yep.”

“Figures,” he mutters miserably.

With an encouraging pat, “Don’t worry, I would’ve stepped in before Mrs. Kim buried your handsome yet indignant face beneath the floorboards or behind a brick wall in the catacombs with Fortunato. It’s the least I could do since I sort of like you and all.”

“Sort of?” Jess asks.

“Yeah. I’m no unreliable narrator girlfriend who'd escort you to your doom, you see. I’d much prefer to keep you,” she says with an adoring grasp and swivel of his chin, which he deflects by tickling her breathless as she bends down over him.

“Gee thanks, Casper. Nice to know you care about me.”

“Not about you exactly,” she teases, her flip-floppy giggles still piercing the air. “Just your head.”

That stops him. “My head, huh?”

“Sure.” Still a little breathless, she reaches toward him to fist her fingers through thick black tendrils along his nape. “It’s pretty.” She gives the strands a little tug. “Full of thoughts I’m hoping to pilfer for further study.”

“You know, I always thought there was some hoodlum in your DNA. Now I’m convinced,” he says as he leans over to commence the tickling again. “And you will pay."

The two of them continue to roll then thump against his windshield all elbows and knees until the levity starts to leaden and transform. As Jess reaches over to cup her cheek, their gazes meet in the silvery darkness and hold, kindling like flint.

Quiet washes over them again for a moment. Only this time, it’s bloated; it’s heavy. It’s a mess of a hundred thousand decipherable something’s teetering on the precipice of expression.

A flicker of alarm passes over his features as he frames her face with his hands, palms flat against the car. He hovers aloft, unsure. Indecision mixes with fear to tangle with retreat even as gravity beckons him nearer, his head dropping low enough for their foreheads to touch.

“I sort of like you, too, you know,” Jess breathes softly, his lips lowering to press against her mouth in a quick but lingering kiss. “A lot.” His jaw clenches. “Maybe too much.”

Suddenly there’s a tightrope pulled taut and vibrating in every direction because there’s no shrinking back from the dense electricity pulsating between them. There’s no more room to dance around unnamed emotion whenever it identifies itself in blown pupils, in a bobbing Adam’s apple, in hands that slip and slide until they fit together like aligning planets.

In that instant Rory knows. She knows right then and there she’s falling in love with him, that she’s half fallen already. And it’s both a revelation and a fact so natural she can feel the truth of it whistling from deep in her bones.

Looking nervous, vulnerable, more fragile than she’s ever seen him, he swallows hard then shifts to squint out at the shadowy tree line while scratching at his nape. “It’s just…so many people have treated me like garbage that all I know how to do is spoil things. I destroy, Rory—ruin what’s good. It’s what I do best. It’s all I know. I’m trying here and all, but I…don’t know how to do this,” he says, gesturing lamely between them. “How to do us right.”

“Hey now,” she thumbs his cheek, tries to turn his head back toward her but it won’t budge, and neither will he. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about. Go easy on him, will you?” He nods into her palm, softening a little. The tension leaves his body as he gathers her in his arms again, her head conforming to the crook of his neck, but she’s not convinced all is well yet.

“There’s no rulebook or anything,” Rory says placatingly. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

“We will,” she says with an emphatic, assuring squeeze. “I know we will.”

With a caustic laugh, a heavy sigh, he runs his teeth over his lip, “I’m a screw up, Rory.”

“Hey. Not true.”

“I am.” Jess sounds so resigned, so convinced, it ties her into knots thinking he sees himself that way.

“Not to me, you’re not.”

“No,” he says with a deadened inflection, with a sad downturn of his mouth. “Not to you.”

Frowning, she feels his cynicism, his self-deprecation, descend like a slash across the gut. Helpless to do anything but try to be a soft place for him and his insecurities to land, she pulls him toward her, embracing him, quieting him, caring for him more with each passing second even though a warning gong goes off in her heart when she leans in to steal another kiss.

“Maybe I’m not a screw up to you yet,” he whispers, “but I could be at another time. On another day.”

“Stop,” Rory declares forcefully, holding her finger against his lips so he knows she means it.

Jess relents. “Okay,” he sighs. “Just know I’ll get it if you change your mind.”

- v. things we cried out at a crossroads -

Strained.

Silent.

Distant.

Those are the best adjectives to describe the status of her and Jess’s relationship as the bus pulls away from the curb a couple weeks later. After the party from hell. From her place on the sidewalk, her chest full of a heaviness she can’t name, Rory stares after it - after him - with little to no regard for the hour’s lateness or for the morning bell which signals the start of homeroom.

It’s the middle of May. That means finals, graduation, and summer loom on the periphery but she doesn’t care. None of it resonates. In the background she can hear Paris barking orders at a few trembling freshman and minted sophomores, but she does nothing to intervene. She makes no move to prevent her frenemy’s yellow journalistic splatter from crushing the innocents to smithereens.

Instead, she watches the hum and bump of the vehicle’s dusty rubber wheels as they roll down the street. She tracks the plume of smoke swirling from the exhaust pipe into the sky, which clouds over with blacks and grays instead of with clearing blues and radiant yellows. She waits until the bus turns left, its engine loud, roaring, to putt around the corner. Disappearing from view.

I hope he calls later, she thinks with a pang, with an iota of hope. We need to talk soon.

Rory’s eyes want to keep traveling with him long after he’s gone. So do her feet. They seek to follow along wherever Jess has gone, to ride beside him until they’re able to make sense of this mess between them and fix it. Fix them again.

Unfortunately for them both, they don’t. And it’ll be some time before they can, let alone before they do.