#felt cute might honk later

[montereybayaquarium]

Wednesday Wisdom from a Canada goose: Get outside and take a gander.

(Disclaimer: To clarify, we mean “enjoy the view.” Please don’t harass the wildlife—no need for any wild goose chases!)

[chuluoyi]

✎ mission: baby steps !

- gojo satoru x reader

the three times gojo tried to make his baby love him (and how he miserably fails)

genre: full crack, dad!gojo being a sore loser, your baby being mean (he only wants peace, really), and obviously, fluff !!

note: a little thing for father's day ehe <3 i know i said i'll work on smut in the polls next but uhhh, this comes first ok?! :') i just love the idea of gojo vs baby don't mind me *sobs* and all the scenario here come from the tiktok/reels you've sent me!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

There are many things that come with being a jujutsu sorcerer, and when you are Gojo Satoru, those things seem to be multiplying like bunnies.

This essentially means less time with his wife and baby. Look, he could finish missions fast, but when sent to other cities, even he couldn't abuse his teleportation powers all the time to return to Tokyo.

And so, as much as he hated it, he couldn't fault his baby boy for forgetting him.

"Look, it's papa," you rocked your son with a smile, consoling him as he wailed right after Satoru held him. "Don't cry, don't cry! Papa just got back from a long mission, he's not scary!"

"Is he scared of me?" Ouch. The thought prickled him. It somehow felt sourer than seeing Principal Gakuganji's face.

You hummed, seemingly (or comically?) deep in thought. "Hmm, in baby's point of view: a big, bad man suddenly picks him up, of course he's scared."

"I'm not a bad man!"

Okay, he wasn't having this. Satoru adored his baby to bits and he would want him to at least know it. It's settled then—he would be taking paid leave just to spend some time with his baby.

This would be his mission for the next three days!

DAY ONE

The day started off great. Baby Gojo was relatively calm, a bit fussy here and there but Satoru could definitely handle him.

"Look, a plane is coming!" he said playfully, moving the spoon in the air to attract his baby's attention. "Open your mouth wide!"

Baby blinked at him with the straightest face ever. His two blue orbs were the very same as his father, and yet they held disinterest so great that it was a wonder Satoru didn't notice.

He then playfully smooched baby's face, but he scrunched up, cringing in response.

And later, another achievement unlocked: Satoru successfully got his son to sleep for his afternoon nap!

"You're so cute, sigh." Satoru poked his baby's cheek lightly. "You look like me, but when you sleep, you totally look like your mama..."

He might not say it out loud, but one of his favorite sights lately was seeing you sleep next to your son. Both of you looked so precious and vulnerable, so alike, and it made him warm.

And whenever he looked at this little creation between you and him, he also got the urge to poke him so bad.

So he did. Only this time, he poked him a little too hard.

And how wrong that move was.

His son immediately cracked his eyes open, his lips quivered, and then his whole face scrunched up, followed by—

"WAAA!"

"Oof! Wait— I'm sorry!"

Long story short, he refused to be held in Satoru's arms, so you took over and your husband could only watch you with dissatisfaction.

"Won't you let me hold you?" he asked despondently, pulling up a pitiful face and batting his eyelashes. "I have the warmest hugs! Mama can vouch for that!"

"Satoru, he doesn't want you."

DAY ONE RESULT : FAILED

DAY TWO

Okay, his baby would love him today. Satoru was sure of it.

He had ordered this baby ride-on toy via home shopping and not only that, he would play with him!

"Here we goo~! Honk! Honk!" Satoru steered the little vehicle with his son at the backseat, hyping him up and even made a weird sound that was supposed to resemble a... train?

You watched them both, giggling. Your husband looked positively ridiculous as he was too big for the small vehicle, but still persisted in entertaining your clueless baby behind him. "Oh my, Satoru, you're trying way too hard."

"I have to!" he retorted, sending pout and a glare at the same time. "You can't hog him all the time, he's my son too!"

"Well, good luck~ as it happens, your spawn isn't easy to impress."

"Just so you wait—!" Satoru begrudgingly shot you a look, eaten up by your taunts, not noticing the wall in front of him. "By the end of today, he'll— whoaaa!"

He was about to crash into the said wall, and you were prepared to jump to save your baby first. But then, Satoru did the next best thing to stop it—jumping out of the ride-on, rolling onto the floor... and crashing into the bookshelf that some of the things fell. "Ow!"

"Are you okay!?" you immediately picked up your baby before checking him over. However, Satoru's eyes were transfixed on your shared munchkin.

"Meh heh~"

And you too when you heard it— your baby was wiggling, all smiles, seemingly amused by the sight of his papa lying there pitifully. Satoru was aghast.

"Y-you have no filial piety!"

DAY TWO RESULT : FAILED

DAY THREE

Today, Satoru had gotten inside the playpen and brought a bunch of toys, planning to entertain his son with all of them.

"C'mon, don't throw that!" he pursed his lips when his kid flung the lego away. "Don't you want to play together with me?"

No. As if saying that, the baby crawled away from him. He seemed to have a target in mind though.

"Oi, what are you doing?" Satoru was puzzled, but he was in for a surprise when the child rose slowly.

"Oh, you're pushing yourself up..." he stated, observing how the baby, still wobbly, clutched on the edge of his playpen for support.

A huge grin spread across his face then. "Aww, look at you!" he gushed with pride. "You can stand already! Ooh!"

And suddenly, the sight tugged at his heartstrings. This was the first time he had ever witnessed such a milestone. He wasn't here when he first started teething or crawling, and now that he was here when his son was standing... he wanted to see more of this.

"Now, can you take a step?" Satoru moved closer to him, and the kid turned to him with those clear blue eyes and a little frown, seemingly unsure. "Go! Go! Come to me!"

He didn't think he would actually try to walk. But he did as baby let go of the support, alas suddenly he slipped—

And fell flat on his face.

"—! Are you hurt?!" Satoru immediately plucked him off the floor, horrified, and pulled him close when the baby started to sniffle. Soon, he began to wail inconsolably.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—!" he didn't even know why he was apologizing, but seeing his baby so frightened made his chest tighten. "Stop crying, oh wait—let's find mama!"

You were engrossed in your evening TV series when Satoru came barging to the living room with your poor son while being hysterical. "Help him!"

"What happened?!"

"He fell! He fell!"

Of course, your main concern was to comfort your baby, and so you reached out to take him from your husband's arms, only that...

"Huh...?" even Satoru was stunned when his son clutched onto his shirt, continuing to cry but refusing to let go, burying his little face into him.

Suddenly, he felt warm, he felt needed, and most of all, his desire to protect him was so overwhelming that he couldn't help but squeeze him closer.

You looked between the father and son, feeling giddy at the sight.

"He wants you," you finally smiled, patting baby's back. Satoru glanced between you and his precious pumpkin, seemingly taken aback as he blinked several times. When the fact sank in, he felt like a mush and pressed a kiss on his head.

The clown was convinced that his kid hates him and you are the savior. So, the fact that this little innocent being wanted him to comfort him... it made his heart flutter.

"Sorry, kid," he sighed into him, smushing his face to his little one's. "Don't cry, yeah? You're making me sad too."

"Satoru... are you getting glassy-eyed?"

"...am not!"

DAY THREE RESULT : DUBIOUS OUTCOME

"He's asleep..." you placed your baby between you and Satoru on the bed later that night, he was now so peaceful, out like a light.

Satoru turned to face you and the baby, looking at both of you with a yawn, but a soft smile lit his face when he saw how you pecked his son's cheek lightly.

These three days made him almost forget that curses still existed out there. Spending time with his son blurred that fine line between reality and a perfect daydream.

"He is still so little, but he screams so loud," he mused, poking the baby's cheek gently. You swatted his hand away, worried he might poke too hard again.

"You keep teasing him, that's why."

"—? He keeps playing me, is why!"

You two burst into quiet giggles then, and you couldn't help but reminiscing about the journey from when you first found out you were expecting, through the first ultrasound, and all the way to delivering your son.

And it seemed like Satoru had an inkling of what you were thinking when he suddenly blurted:

"Thank you, for everything you do," he whispered then, his eyes crinkled so softly at you.

You playfully huffed to hide your misty eyes, and in that moment, Satoru knew, that you too were glad for this life you two shared.

. . .

And that, in and of itself, was enough for him to thank all the stars for bringing him to meet you in that most beautiful spring of 2006.

Epilogue

It was morning, and baby was awoken by... sounds.

He looked to the side to find his mama there— your hand on his tummy to prevent him from rolling.

And then he turned to the other side to find his papa... who is perfectly still, but emanating this low sounds with each breath he took.

The longer he heard it, the more irritated your munchkin felt. So he rose, put his fists together, and came down on him—

Whack!

"—?!" Satoru groaned when something hit his face, and he opened his eyes only to see his son readying his punch again—

"W-why are you hitting me!" he was mortified. "H-help! Sweets, wake up! He’ll murder me!”

OVERALL MISSION RESULT : FAILED

[haikyu-mp4]

Until we meet again

word count; 913 – f!reader

It was a slow evening in Tendo’s chocolate shop. The tall man rested against the counter and hummed under his breath as he watched people walk past his shop. All the necessary batches of chocolate were already in the fridge and he just got over the lunch rush, which seemed to last for hours in France. Business was good, but the evenings were always calmer.

The bell above the door rang and he lifted his head, curious eyes on you as he said his practised greeting. “Bienvenue!” (Welcome!).

However, he pursed his lips when he saw you were on the phone, speaking quickly in French and not sounding particularly satisfied.

You met Tendo’s eyes and flashed him a quick apologetic smile before you kept rambling and put your stuff down at one of the few tables so you could sit down. Five minutes later you were still arguing and Tendo had an idea.

At this point, you were pinching between your eyes in frustration when you heard porcelain hit the table, looking up in surprise to see the redheaded chocolatier’s smile. He had given you a plate of two chocolates that looked mouth-watering, and you gave him the most thankful eyes you could while still doing your best to pay attention to your colleague on the phone. You whispered “Merci beaucoup, vraiment.” (Thank you, really!) before getting back to your business.

You picked up a piece of chocolate as Tendo got back behind the counter and watched as you ate the first piece. Somehow, it seemed like you melted along with the chocolate in your mouth and it might have been one of his proudest moments in this line of work. It seemed to him like your tone changed as well, and five minutes later, you finally said a determined dismissal before putting the phone face down on the table. You picked up the other piece of chocolate before meeting Tendo’s eyes. No one ever looked at him that softly before, it made him twiddle his thumbs in front of him, flustered.

“I am so sorry for disturbing your peace, how much are those chocolates?” you asked, standing up from your seat and moving over to the counter in front of him. Your French accent sat heavy on your tongue, Tendo was entranced by your presence.

“It’s on the house,” he said and tilted his head with a cute smile, hoping you wouldn’t argue too much about it. “Seemed like you needed it.”

“Thank you.” You breathed out a heavy chuckle, making him laugh as well to ease the tension. Luckily for him, you thought he had some samples lying around to get people to buy more anyway, thus deciding not to argue. “And you have no idea. There’s this big project...” You held your palm to your forehead, shaking your head. “But I won’t bother you with that.” His heart fluttered when you looked at him again. It felt like your eyes danced together for a moment, settling in each other’s presence until the sound of a car honking outside brought you both back to the moment at hand.

“Not that I would mind listening to you rant about your job, but was there anything else you came in here for?” he asked, leaning a bit forward and laughing softly again when you blushed.

“Right! Three croissants au chocolat and…” you moved to the glass cases showing off his beautiful creations. He watched as your tongue poked out from between your lips in thought, looking away when you stood back in front of him as if he was checking some notes. “..a box of six with whatever you recommend, please.” you asked and got your wallet out, watching Tendo’s eyes light up. And what a pretty sight that was.

Of course, people sometimes asked for his recommendations, but being blindly trusted never stopped making him excited. He felt inspiration bubbling in his fingertips, so now it was his turn to glance between you and his selection of chocolates. After setting it up so you could pay, he moved over to get everything for you.

Tendo readied three fluffy chocolate croissants and then started picking chocolates in a separate box. He chose some of his favourites that go well together, naturally making two of them hearts. Finally, he closed everything off and added stickers with his logo to keep them closed wherever you were going. You watched his hands intently as he worked, oddly entranced by the shop’s atmosphere.

“Thank you so much,…” you sharpened your eyes to look at the little badge on his apron for his name, only to see that it was embroidered. Fancy. In red letters, it said Satori Tendo. “Tendo.”

The man bowed his head slightly, a French the pleasure is all mine slipping off his tongue. “But you can call me Satori.”

Your head tilted curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. Tendo blinked back at you, unsure what question was running through your head. “Very well, Satori,” you purred. “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“You know where to find me.” He tapped the counter nervously when you turned to leave. “Wait! May I have your name?”

You giggled, lightly hitting your forehead with your palm at your impoliteness. With a red flush over your nose, you told him your name and it left just enough of a sweet taste on his tongue for him to let you leave. Until we meet again…

masterlist

[a66-1]

starving

part 1 | part 2 [you're here!]

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

finally got the idea for part 2. excited?

me too

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen.

semi proofread bc who cares

The next morning was exhausting as the last.

You got up early to go running. If you ever have the chance, you run until the sun comes up. You need to stay fit if you want a boyfriend. It was easier when you were on your meds. Almost like you had the will to live those mornings.

You were back at the house around 8 am. You weren't scheduled for work today so... You headed back to bed and really, just slept the day away

You woke up around 5 pm. 5, really? God, you are just some depressed child.

You got out of bed for the second time, and changed into a dress. It was hard seeing yourself in a dress after 2 years. You stopped going out because alcoholism and anti-depressants aren't really two peas in a pod, are they?

Well this is why you quit. You dropped your therapist and your meds because you were better, and your mom stopped helping with the payments, and now you can go back to partying.

Minus the heavy drinking.

Hopefully.

You tear your eyes off yourself. If you stare too long, you'll end up convincing yourself to stay in bed longer. You configure the rest of your outfit, and grab a small black purse. Throwing your phone in it, you leave the house quicky. If you don't, you might properly convince yourself you're just as ugly as you thought..

The drive to the bar was silent, save from the honking cars around you. Fuck, what if this is the wrong idea? I mean the looks everyone will give you, you look so bad and so ugly and god this was such a bad--

You hear a car honk behind you. The light turned green. You lower your head, sighing, and taking a left.

Once at the bar, you slip into one of the seats nearer the back, feeling uncomfortable in the seat. Adjusting your dress down, you cringe while looking around the bar. There's so many pretty women here, and comparatively you are way under them.

You order a drink, sipping on the alcohol for the first time in months. Fuck, your therapist would be losing it if she knew you not only stopped meds but started drinking again...

You rested your head in your palm, watching others interact. Pretty women just have a way with men, a way you've never had. The buzz of the alcohol was enough to make you not question why nobody has interacted with you, other than the bartender. People probably think your such a loser, I mean, who would just sit here and drink--

"Hey. You're, uh.. That girl from yesterday right?" A gruff voice appears behind you. You flinch forward, whipping your head around.

Oh. This guy.

You slowly put your drink down, your palm over the top of it.

"And who are you?" You ask, eyeing the man. He didn't have his mask on. He was... Really cute.

"A customer." He sat next to me, his eyes trained on mine. I felt sort of flushed under his gaze.

Fuckin' small world.

You spent some of the night talking with him. Still don't know his name, or why you ran into him here, but you don't care nonetheless.

You were looking for sex this night but... Is a connection so bad?

Like you could make a connection with someone who is out of your league.

thank god i finished this. 3 drafts later, and im sorry its kinda short. trust part 3 is gonna have the good stuff, this is kinda a filler so it can get to the good stuff.

ily babes...

-a661

taglist:

@i-am-hungry-24-7 @arminarlertssword @haven-1307

[writemekpop]

You’re Mine | Nakamoto Yuta

Summary: Yuta is in love with you, but he catches you screwing another guy, and it drives him mad...

Genre: Angsty, friends to lovers, bad boy Yuta

Word Count: 1.2k 

Death was nothing in comparison the way Yuta felt right now. 

He would take death over how he felt right now, a thousand times over. 

No, this was worse. 

Forcing his motorcycle faster, Yuta roared down the highway. He had to be going a hundred miles an hour, if not more. 

What a sick joke. On the one day he would’ve loved to get picked up by the cops, he got away scot-free. Come on, where was a nice fat car-chase when he needed one? Anything to take his mind off the pain. 

All his pain, all his anguish, was because you had a boyfriend. 

And he was the biggest idiot ever to have lived. 

While he spent the last year stupidly, helplessly falling in love with you, you were railing some other guy. He felt sick with embarrassment. 

To think that he stayed up all night thinking of little one-liners so he could see your face light up in a smile. To think that he collected all the signs: the hugs, the winks, the things only you remembered, clutching them to his chest like a magpie’s jewels. 

And all along, you didn’t give a damn about him. 

The sight was burnt into his eyelids: you, in the corridor outside your college dorm room, your lips practically fused to that guy’s, like you wanted to suck him up. That fucker’s hand was on your ass, and you didn’t even push it away.

Yuta had been frozen at the end of the corridor. Only later did he realize that the pink roses in his hands had been fisted into mush.  

Yuta pumped the breaks. He didn’t realize what he’d been searching for till he found it.

Swerving into the mall car park, his wheels squealed and the air filled with the scent of burning rubber. He got a bunch of angry looks, which a small part of him was still able to appreciate. 

Soon, he was pushing into the cool, white space of the mall, full of girls just his age. This was it. He was getting over you. There had to be someone here who could take his mind off you. 

He used to look for beautiful girls all the time, automatically – he hadn’t quite realized that he’d stopped doing it.  

He couldn’t remember the last time he looked at a girl – really looked at her – but he started to now. 

Forcing himself to notice, to catalogue each of the tiny details. To notice who had great hair, who had a cute nose, whose makeup was a few shades too light, who would look great if they just took off that cardigan. 

But gradually, without realizing it, Yuta started to look for all the wrong things. 

Things like, this girl had eyes the exact shade of yours. This girl had the same lips. This girl bit her nail just like you did when you were thinking – which made him wonder what she was puzzling about… 

Yuta screwed his thumbs in his eyes to force the thought away. But it was no use.  

Like a boomerang, his body froze for a half-second. 

At first, he didn’t notice it. Some invisible force was tugging on him. It came from deep inside him, far from the reach of any rational thinking. 

Helpless, he turned back around and started his journey right back to your door. 

He barely noticed the motorcycle journey on the way back – not even to enjoy being honked as he swerved through the traffic. Only one thought filled his head. 

What a fool he was, to think he could just stop loving you.

There was no use in trying. He always would. 

He was standing outside your college dorm now. 

He looked down, and noticed that his hands were shaking. 

God, he wished he could hold his head high, pretend he had any scrap of dignity left, but he didn’t. He would get down on his knees if he had to.  

He would agree to be your sidepiece, or maybe just your toy. He would be your alcohol-fuelled rebound fuck, if that’s what you wanted. Heck, he might even settle for being your frickin friend, let you cry on his shoulder about your dumbass boyfriend, just to play his fingers through your hair… 

Because you were already a part of Yuta, and there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how many times you burned him, dragged him over razors, threw him out like trash, he would still come back, worrying if you were okay.  

The door opened. 

Yuta felt a little ashamed that, even though you’d clearly just been with a guy, your hair in wild tufts and your lipstick smudged, he couldn’t help thinking that it made you even more devastatingly beautiful.   

“I…” he started. All his anger, sharp as needles one second ago, had vanished. All he felt was a queasy mix of joy and nervousness. “I like you, Y/n. Like… a lot. And I know you have a boyfriend, but… I just had to let you know.” He shut his eyes, unable to bear your reaction. His heart was thrumming like a bird’s. 

“That- that’s not my boyfriend,” you said. 

Yuta opened his eyes. 

Your eyes were wide in surprise, your fingers self-consciously combing through your hair. “It was just a one-off. We didn’t even… do anything in the end. I guess we both thought we were drunk enough to go through with it, but we were… too sober.” 

Yuta’s heart faltered. So… you were single? He tried not to get his hopes up, but like the masochist he was, he got ‘em up anyway. Why were you telling him this? Could it be because you wanted him to know you were single? To know that you were lonely?

He was about to punch himself for reading too much into it, but then you cleared your throat and said, “Do you want to… come in?”   

His heart did a little drunken swoop again. 

You brewed some cheap-ass coffee in two mugs, sat on the bed and motioned him to sit next to you. 

“Yuta, I like you too. I didn’t say anything because, well…” you stopped, and he was shocked to find a teasing smirk on your lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t strike me as the love type.”

Yuta exhaled annoyedly, trying to look mad, but grinning like a kid on Christmas.  

“Me? Not the love type? As if!” 

You were both laughing now, the tension in the air thawing. 

“Oh, I see. You think I’m just hell and leather, don’t you? You don’t know about the French poetry I write… or my flower-arrangement classes. Not to mention my mad origami skills…”

The conversation flowed easily then, both of you high on the atmosphere, on the ripe possibility in the air. 

So when you did finally kiss him – dear lord, it was killing him waiting – it wasn’t awkward at all. It was perfect. The kiss was soft, and sweet, and gentle – perfect. 

You leaned back, and the look in your eyes said everything he’d been praying to hear: I’m yours. 

Yuta had never felt more grateful that he decided to turn around and take a chance on you. 

He felt like the luckiest guy alive.  

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[letsthecrazything]

Part 1 of ???

So I'm on mobile so this thing might be jank but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to start a story/fanfic/I don't know what to call it but it LIVES lol

She sat in the unusually long drive through line for some time, the temperature gauge on the dashboard jittering. Today was hell, the a/c in the car wouldn't even turn on and all those fucks at work keep telling her she'll go to hell or giving her those nasty looks. The staticky voice on the menu board asked for her order and she muttered the cheapest things on the menu.

That won't sustain us…You know what we must do. You can't ignore me for much longer and you know it. We must FE-

‘“Shut the FUCK up ruthless and let me get my food, dammit.” Ruth whispered angrily. IT had been rattling in her skull since the first rude customer at the start of her shift. All of these pompous asshats, acting as if she is a cancer. Screaming about how they didn't need their IDs, they knew the owner, they were the elder and demanded respect. Her knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel with such force that she was surprised it didn't break.

Rip the screams straight from their throats. How delicious they taste, suffocating in their own blood. You know the lungs taste better that way. I'm getting RATHER impatient!

The car honks behind her. Shit. She pulls forward, stopping at the window, fumbling with the cash in her wallet. The change won't matter, she just needs to get the hell out of there before IT starts making a mess of her work clothes. She rolled the window down and heard the drive-through window open. She looked up, staring almost blankly for a moment.

“Long day today?”

Ruth kept staring for a moment, almost transfixed in a way. Something about the person at the window was different than all the rest. She was goth, for starters. But that wasn't all. There was something else, otherwise ruthless wouldn't have been quiet for a second. Certainly there wouldn't be anyone like her, Ruth thought. Don't make it awkward.

“Yeah.”

You're intrigued. How cute. We can convene with them later, now get OUT of here! I’M NOT WAITING FOR MUCH LONGER. I WILL RIP THIS CHEST OPEN!

The person at the window took her money, putting it in the cash register. At least that was what Ruth could surmise, as ruthless was making the ability to focus very difficult. She knew she couldn't keep her back for much longer. Her chest ached and her body felt like it was losing the war.

“But hey, at least now you get to rest!” The girl at the window said.

THE ALLEYWAY ACROSS THE STREET. GET OUT OF THE CAR. FIND THEM. PREY.

“Uh…yeah. You too.” Oh fuck, you sound like an idiot, Ruth, she thought. With IT screaming in your head, you could have just said thanks and drove off. She grabbed the food, forgetting the change. She didn't have time for it. She needed to leave before ruthless could bust out of her work shirt. God forbid she has to pay for another one of these stupid uniforms. She pulled into the parking lot across the street, throwing the fast food in the passenger seat as she heard the car stalling out. No time for the car. Can take the bus home. Out of sight, she threw her shirt in the back seat and grabbed her sickle, tucked under her seat. Chest is seeping. It's time to kill.

[nocturnal-dreams]

Protective

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Pairing: Karl Jacobs x F! Reader (although I guess also GN neutral works, maybe just an AFAB reader)

Warnings: mentions of abuse

Note: Drug dealer Karl pog?

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'Be there at 10'

You rolled your eyes reading over the text from Garrett, of course, he couldn't risk his perfect reputation to do his own dirty work. Feeling the eyes roaming across your body made your skin squirm, you knew your outfit was rather revealing, your shirt making your cleavage pop out making multiple drunk men keep their eyes on you or rather your cleavage. You knew you'd have a word with Garrett later about it although you know he most likely wouldn't have cared.

You weren't sure why you were still dating Garrett, I mean he was a dick. You guessed you just stayed with him for this long because of his money, he had a house and a stable income that allowed you to live very comfortably, or at least as comfortable as you could get.

This wasn't your first time buying drugs for Garrett, he always gave you the money and a small description of the dealer's looks and location. He couldn't risk his perfect rep being ruined by someone finding out about his drug usage so he decided to risk yours. Garrett was waiting just outside in the car for you to finish the deal, the only problem was you were having a hard time finding the dealer.

Your eyes scanned the room of drunk individuals till they landed on someone. A guy was walking down the stairs as your eyes followed the handsome stranger. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater with yellow plodded jeans, multiple rings on his fingers which had the nails painted black. His hair was a light brown, almost like a mop on his head but it suited him, unlike most men you had seen with the style. As you stared longer, you saw him turn towards you, catching your gaze in his steel-grey eyes. He was coming near you as you tried to look away, trying to lose yourself in the crowd but you already felt his hand around your arm.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone; average height, kind of greyish black hair, round glasses, might be wearing some kind of ugly button-up shirt," the handsome stranger had said as you stared at him, he had to be referring to Garrett. This stranger did match Garrett's description of the dealer, he looked too nice to be a drug dealer though.

"Do you happen to be Jacobs?" you questioned, you just wanted to make sure that this was the right guy before you went and spilled your reason for being here on a complete stranger.

“Just call me Karl, so you know Garrett?” Karl had said, you didn’t want to stay around him much longer than you needed too. Not that you were scared of him, actually the opposite, he made you feel safe, it's just you didn’t want Garrett to get impatient.

“Garrett sent me, do you have my stuff?” you tried to hold yourself, you didn’t want to seem vulnerable, that was the biggest thing that Garrett was annoyed about. He didn’t want you to seem weak when he would send you on his drug pick-ups.

“Garrett couldn’t even come to his own deal,” Karl laughed, it was a cute laugh, a lot better than Garrett’s rare rough chuckle that you disliked, if you had to be honest, everything about Garrett you disliked. If it wasn’t for his bank account and house, you would have left a long time ago. Karl looked you over, his eyes roaming over your body wasn’t very different from the crowd but it also felt different, “so what’s someone like you buying stuff like this?”

“And who are you to ask what I buy? Aren’t you just doing this to get paid?” you were growing tired of Karl since he was wasting your time, it wouldn’t be long until Garrett would be coming into the party yelling at you for taking too long.

“Well I could always just refuse to sell it to you,” Karl asked again, “so why are you buying this stuff? You’re wearing only what I can describe as little miss sunshine to a party, you don’t buy drugs.”

“It’s for my boyfriend, now gimme!” you groaned and rolled your eyes.

“I’m not giving this to you, Garrett can come out here and buy it himself. You know my friend Chris mentioned someone being here instead of Garrett, just didn’t think it’d be someone as beautiful as you,” Karl looked away from you towards the crowd, leaning on the rail looking down at the party, “but till Mr Dogwater gets here, I’m not leaving you, I can’t tell how many guys I’ve seen just eyeing you like meat since you got here. It’s honking disgusting. Perves.”

You hide the smile on your face from his own censorship, “it’s how it always is. It’s how I live.”

“That shouldn’t be how life is, it's sad. Guys should learn to keep crap to themselves,” Karl sighed.

You glanced at him, his eyes looking at the crowd of people dancing and drunkenly talking to themselves. You were disappointed in yourself for feeling so safe around someone you just met, this was what exactly Garrett was bitching to you about two hours ago.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally decided to introduce yourself, it was only fair.

“Do you always pick up for Garrett?” you nodded in response to Karl’s question then realized he wasn’t looking at you.

“Yeah. He says that he can’t be seen around people like-well-like you.” You gestured towards Karl, him looking at you out the corner of his eye.

“Drug dealers? He can’t be seen with drug dealers but is willing to risk your safety and reputation to be around me? Put you in danger? You know drug dealers are dangerous right?” he looked at you.

“So you’re saying you’re dangerous?” you laughed through the pain his question brought, you knew at this point the relationship between you and Garrett, you were just his drug camel and something for him to stick his dick in when he got bored.

“I’m not dangerous,” Karl shook his head.

You were about to reply when Garrett came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his chest, his eyes narrowing on Karl as Garrett’s grasp on you tightened, almost bruising. “Hey babe,” you had been too wrapped up in your conversation with Karl to even notice Garrett enter the party, “who’s this twink?”

You tried to hide how uncomfortable you had grown when Garrett’s hands left your waist and grabbed your ass, “uh Karl… he has your uh- you know?”

You heard Garrett sigh before he leaned into your ear, making it hard for Karl to hear with the music as Garrett whispered angrily, “why couldn’t you fucking get it? You know I can’t be seen around people like him, let alone his twink ass.”

Karl glared, able to read Garrett’s lips. Karl pushed himself off of the rail, his arms being crossed across his chest, “I wouldn’t allow them. If its not for them then I can’t give it to them.” Karl said loudly as Garrett told him to shut up, “listen if you want the stuff then you gotta get it yourself, Jimmy’s rules.”

A few people started to stare at the scene, Garrett’s jaw clenching as his grip on your arm tightened, “come on, I can get it from somewhere else.”

“Can’t we just go home, I don’t want to go anywhere else, I’m tired,” you spoke quietly, trying to hold back your protests to tell Garrett to lighten his hold on your arm which was starting to hurt from his painful grip.

“Y/N we can go home when I find someone else to get my supply from,” Garrett’s grip only tightened.

“Dude she wants to go home, take her home,” Karl chimed in, his voice no longer the cheering tone but rather low and pissed off, “they have a fucking say and you’re being hella rude. They want to go home. Take them home now.”

“Dude whatever. I’m leaving. Are you coming with me or no?” Garrett looked down at you. You couldn’t form any kind of words on your tongue as you started to back away towards Karl, shaking your head. Garrett’s jaw clenched as he rolled his eyes, “whatever, we’re done, bitch!”

Your boyfriend or rather now ex-boyfriend started to walk away down the stairs. Karl’s jaw clenched and and turned Garrett around on the stairs and clocked him right in the jaw, sending Garrett stumbling down the last few steps. You put your hand over your mouth holding back the slightest laugh. Garrett had stood up and went to punch Karl but Karl pulled up his shirt slightly over his belt and flashed something that sent Garrett running out.

You furrowed your eyebrows confused on what just happened as Karl came back up the stairs to where you were standing as you thanked him. Karl shrugged, “no problem, here let me take you home with me.” He said as you bit your lip.

Sure you didn’t know Karl well but you trusted him better than you ever did Garrett. “Alright, let’s go,” you smiled as Karl smiled back. You walked out with Karl behind you leading you over to his car. People would look at the two of you cause of what happened but one glance from Karl made them turn away. You felt safe with Karl, something you never felt with Garrett.

Karl drove you to his home, allowing you to borrow some of his clothes and sleep on his bed after you asked him for number allowing you two to keep in contact. You told him goodnight as you got into his bed, him leaving to his living room as you fell asleep happy for once.

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[bunnimew]

TheJackestFrost is Live Ch 4

Rating: T Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Relationship: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Tags: Twitch Streamer au, Youtuber AU, Modern AU, They play video games and flirt, Humor, Fluff Summary: For @rotg-hope-week​ : Day 4 Honeycomb

Jack and Pitch are video game streamers who know of each other, but never had a reason to cross paths...

Until now.

On AO3 here.

“I can’t believe you haven’t played this before,” Pitch said over the headset. 

“I’m younger than you!” Jack griped. “Get over it!”

“I am over it!” Pitch said right back. “I’m not over this!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Jack mumbled, but the opening screen was finally done and Jack could move his player around. Everybody was squeaking, squawking, honking, and barking at him. It was surreal. And so awesome. 

“I’ve already forgotten what I was here to do,” Jack said in awe.

Pitch sighed. They were in a private discord server, where Jack could stream and only Pitch could see it. But unlike a normal stream, Pitch could turn on his mic here and critique Jack’s gameplay in real time. 

Or rather, Jack could exasperate Pitch in real time. 

“Am I going to have to walk you through it?” Pitch asked. 

Jack shrugged, which Pitch actually couldn’t see. “I dunno. Or you can watch me run in circles for three hours. Hundreds of people seem to love doing that.”

Pitch groaned and Jack could just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. It was all a farce. He thought Jack was cute and they both knew it. 

“The controls can be a little much,” Pitch said, patience back in his tone. “So yes, go ahead and play around a bit. Talk to some people. See what you find.”

Jack ran around in some circles and stopped short. “He’s a little slow.”

Pitch hummed over the headset. “There’s a reason for that.”

“Gameplay?”

“Yeah,” Pitch said. “You need Kazooie to go faster. Go look at some stuff; you’ll see.”

Jack nodded on instinct and pushed his player forward along the obviously marked path. Banjo was pretty cute, and even though the graphics were chunky, it worked for the art style. Jack was just looking around the world when he was stopped for another character interaction.

“Oh! I love the backflip!” Jack laughed.

“He does that every time,” Pitch said.

“Really? That’s awesome.”

“Keep playing. I doubt you need to practice the camera,” Pitch instructed.

Jack did as instructed, running off to the next obvious task in line. He could see a shiny thing at the top of an obstacle course and guessed that was what he was here for. 

He was also, apparently, here to learn how to jump. “Okay,” Jack declared, “the flapflip is amazing and I am completely sold on this game.”

Pitch laughed in the headset. It almost sounded like he was right next to Jack’s ear. “It’s really cute, right?”

“It’s adorable and also very cool and I love it. Ten outta ten, I’d play this game again,” Jack proclaimed.

Pitch was laughing louder. “You’re not even out of the training level yet!”

“I don’t care,” Jack said, barely holding his own laughter in. “I don’t think you understand. Flapflip? Gold star, everybody else can go home.”

Despite what he said, Jack continued to play, enjoying more and more the cartoony aspects and the character of the world and its people. “Oh! It’s a honeycomb!” 

“Yeah, you collect those and jigsaw pieces and tiny colorful pointy things,” Pitch told him.

Jack snickered. “You’ll have to explain the tiny colorful pointy things later.”

Pitch made a soft little sound that might have been a snort, but Jack couldn’t tell without seeing him. Jack wished he could see him. “The game will explain it. Just keep playing.”

“I love this,” Jack said suddenly. He kept Banjo moving forward, but his tone was far away, even to his own ears. “I know we can’t do this a lot, but this is great. Thanks for… I dunno, spending this time with me?”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jack,” Pitch said softly. It was soothing through the speakers. “I love this, too.”

Somehow, when Pitch said it, the words sounded like they meant something… more.

Jack felt his face heating up and grinned. 

“Alright,” he said, back to business. Jack didn’t want this to get awkward now. “What’s next for me to learn?”

“Well…”

[mae-gi-writes]

Obtuse | Bang Chan (Stray Kids) - PART ONE

Summary ☆ "I don't know. I want to be his friend but then again, I don't. I mean, how can you simply be friends with someone when every time you look at them, you're thinking about how much more you really want?"

Genre ☆ bestfriends to lovers au, angst, slowburn, suggestive themes, college au, fluff, soft Chan x oc (Micha)

Word count ☆ 6k ish

. ° ☆ ° .

PART ONE

. ° ☆ ° .

Micha hated being wrong.

Her fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm over her notebook as she stared at the block of text she had been supposedly studying for the past hour, her desk lamp casting a yellowish hue over her page as if the book itself was a sickly entity with the sole goal of rendering her mad. Attached to her ceiling, her fan kept on whirring in a noisy hum which -- while she normally managed to tune it out --  grated at her nerves. The world bustled outside, cars honking in the distance while soft rain splattered over her bedroom window as she sighed for what must’ve been the nth time that evening, slowly lifting her arms up in a stretch. 

It wasn’t in her nature to be so scatter-brained, for once she set her mind to something, there could be little to stop her. That was one of the qualities she could pride herself on considering that there was hardly any skill she could flaunt to the world -- surely there were far more interesting things than reciting off a long list of human body parts and their required functions? 

But this recent issue popping up in her brain was doing a great job at knocking her off her feet. Dear god, she felt the same sense of unbalance as when she was five and her mom had enrolled her into ballerina lessons. 

Long story short, it hadn’t ended well.

Micha’s eyes darted to her phone that she’d tossed onto her bed a few minutes ago. The cause of her restlessness, the cause of unease stirring inside her stomach like an angry beast prowling back and forth.

The words from his earlier message felt like they were etched into her memory: 

Chan: SHE SAID YES

Just three words. Three little stings that made her wince every time she thought of them. Three little needles that pierced at her heartstrings.

Why? 

Her grip tightened onto her pen. So hard her knuckles turned the colour of chalk.

Why didn’t she feel happy for him as she was supposed to? 

Micha’s tongue poked at her cheek. 

Why did it feel so wrong? Why did she feel wronged when she’d done nothing of the sort? 

Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that she had spurred Chan's obvious interest, urging him to hustle a little closer to that particular girl in question when she had caught the said young man casting her quick, shy glances over the rim of his drink?

"Just ask her," Micha told him when he'd sought her out looking like a lost puppy amidst the heavy bass of the music. It had been the summer right before their final year of University and on this special occasion, Minho had thrown a small party to which every high school classmate of their year had been invited.

"You know I can't. I don't know how...you know," he scratched the back of his head, dark locks ruffling as the summer wind. It was in those small, stolen moments -- where Chan was the most vulnerable, where he let down his guard to deploy his array of unspoken feelings -- that she remembered the young man for who he was: the familiar fullness of his full lips, the curve of his nose, the simplicity of his monolids.

"You won't know till you try," she took a sip of her rum and coke.

Truthfully speaking, Chan had never been in a serious relationship. He was friends with everyone, the kind of person that was easy-going and who could engage in any kind of conversation with anyone and everyone. The only consequence was that Chan was thrust into the friendzone without even trying.

But then again, he was a nice guy. And nice guys finished last.

“What’s the worst that can happen anyway?” Micha joked as she downed the rest of her drink, “she’s been eyeing you since we got here.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

He leaned closer with squinted eyes as he tried to find the lie in her words, “you’re not just saying that to be nice?”

He was so close she got a whiff of his scent. Reaching up with her index finger to push him away, Micha proceeded to roll her eyes, “I don’t do nice, Chan. We both know that.” 

She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him slip away a few minutes later to seek her out. Ayeong was her name. Beauty, in Korean. And which suited her perfectly, what with her tiny waist and her big set of doe eyes that could make any man weak at the knees, her supple legs that seemed to go on and on forever and that cupid bow’s mouth that was always puckered in that innocently cute, yet sensual way of hers.

And if not for her physique, Ayeong was known for her kindness and for her outgoing, free-natured and confident spirit. That was the killer blow for any man that sought her out. 

Micha had known her since high school, hung out with the same friends and admittedly could classify her as one too, even though college life had pulled them apart like boats that had left the harbour only to find each other after a year.

Memories of Micha’s last night flickered behind her open lids and leaning back into her chair with a sigh, she gave way to the sudden urge of homesickness suddenly flowing through her heart. 

Their last movie night had ended and despite Micha’s frantic eye movements towards Ayeong’s figure, Chan had immediately volunteered to walk her back home. 

Micha kept her gaze forward, noticing how the golden glow of the street lamps did little to light their way. She turned her head to the right, where the road gave way to the landscape littered with golden lights, now bathed in deep hues of blue as light slowly slithered from behind the mountains. 

“So this is it huh?” Chan’s murmur sliced through with a hint of sadness in his deep alto, “you sure you’re not going to come back home for Christmas?” 

It was tradition after all. They had made it adamant to travel back at least every three months and up until now, they had kept that promise. 

Now though, with Micha’s piling workload and with Chan’s busy thesis schedule, this year might be the one exception.

“I can’t, Chan. I have my internship,” Micha didn’t dare look at him, fighting the tightness winding in her chest, “you can always drop by. My university is just a train ride away I suppose.”

"You’re not gonna kick me out if I turn up at your door one day?” 

“I can’t promise that.” 

He gasped, grabbing onto his chest in mock hurt, “Ouch. Okay, what if I turn up with your favourite bubble tea?” 

"Then we might have a deal.” 

They both laughed softly, pushing each other with their elbows as they walked up Micha’s street. At one point, Chan had looped his arm around hers before shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and as they talked about their recent adventures and all the dumb things they’d done, it was clear that he was avoiding the pain of saying goodbye right until he stopped at her front door.

She turned to him and forced down the tears burning at the edges of her eyes. The morning light had slithered through the landscape now and hit the side of Chan’s face in a scarlet shade of golden, reflecting the caramel of his orbs pinning her down with a sadness that made her throat choke up.

“Stop it,” the words flew from her mouth without warning and Chan blinked, head tilting with confusion, “What? Stop what?” 

“Stop...looking at me like that,” she finished her sentence in a mumble while she averted her eyes in growing embarrassment.

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re going to cry.” 

“I’m not!” 

“There are tears in your eyes!” 

“N-No there aren’t!” And he quickly wiped at his face before angling his head to the side, “why would I cry for you?” 

“You tell me.” 

“Well I’m not!” He turned away to walk down the driveway in a huff, “bye now!” 

“Ugh bye loser!” 

Micha turned so quickly she almost smacked her face onto her front door, hurriedly trying to erase the image of Chan’s back walking away from her before she broke down into a pool of hot tears.

She didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to linger upon the way her throat seemed to choke up as she fought the emotion--

"Micha?” 

Chan’s voice. It floated between them, a lingering question. The said girl felt rooted in place, fighting the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

And when she turned, she was met with his arms lacing around her middle to pull her close. 

His chin on her shoulder, head pressed against hers. Holding her tight. 

“Video calls every week,” he murmured, “at least one text per day.” 

"What are you? My boyfriend?” 

“Micha.” 

“Fine, fine.” 

Chan's warmth felt like sunshine on her back. If she closed her eyes hard enough she could travel back to that very moment she allowed herself to be swayed back and forth in those strong arms of his.

In the weeks following the start of their final year Micha had plunged headfirst into her studies to avoid the slow build-up of homesickness crawling through her heart. And the more work piled up, the less she found time to update Chan on her life. What with her endless hours spent in the library and the small bursts of freedom that she spent with her course mates, it made it close to impossible to sit down and have a proper talk.

So when Chan video-called her one day, her burst of excitement was soon rendered to something akin to annoyance when the only reason was to tell her about Ayeong’s visit to his campus. She couldn’t ignore the slight sting of jealousy coating the back of her tongue as he blabbered off like an excited child, eyes shining and all. 

“I think I might ask her out at the end of this week,” he grinned with dreamy eyes, “I think there’s definitely something.” 

“Good for you.” 

He’d noticed her irritation, as if there was an itch under her skin she couldn’t quite reach, “You okay, Mi? I didn’t even get to ask--”

“I’m fine,” she snapped and softened almost instantly when hurt flashed through his face, “I’m sorry,...just stressed out.” 

“Hey,” concern immediately clouded his features over, “you gotta take care of yourself too. Are you eating well? Sleeping well?” 

A sigh of frustration escaped his lips when she’d shook her head reluctantly, “Don’t make me come over. You know I can do that.” 

“That would be nice,” came her mumble which didn’t reach his ears, for he asked, “What?” 

“Nothing,” she sighed, brushing off the wistful thoughts swimming inside her head and focusing back on Chan’s face at the other end of the screen, “keep me updated with the Ayeong thing.” 

She’s not right for you, her brain seemed to scream. 

But Ayeong did. She did say yes.

And Micha wasn’t sure why she was feeling so bitter about it.

. ° ☆ ° .

"Please sign here, miss.” 

Micha’s surprised orbs quickly flitted up from the large cardboard box to the postman’s clipboard being shoved in her face, “Uh--sure.”

She scrawled her initials, gave back the clipboard with a muttered ‘thanks’ before the postman shoved the box in her arms and walked away without even giving her a second glance. 

Had she ordered something online by accident? That wouldn’t be surprising. Since midterm season, time had been irrelevant to Micha, flowing like a ticking time bomb the more the days approached towards her final deadlines.

To say that she was a walking corpse on campus was not an understatement. 

She got her answer a few minutes later when she answered the phone from a very excited, puppy-like Chan. 

“Did you get it?!” he bellowed with barely contained excitement. Still wrapped up in his blankets with his hair dishevelled and his eyes barely open, Micha couldn’t help but grin at the comical picture he presented, “did you get the package?” 

“By package, you mean this big-ass box?” Micha turned the camera to the floor, causing him to squeal like a child who got his Christmas presents early. 

“Oh nice! Open it, come on!” 

“Chan, I swear if it’s something like one of those scary muppets you like so much--”

“You have so little faith in me.” 

“Can you blame me when you were the one who put salt in my coffee?” 

“It was just to experiment.” 

“That coffee was of good quality!” 

“Just open it." 

She tore open the package while grumbling under her breath at how bossy he was being, cracked open the box to blink at the different flavours of tea filling it up to the brim. 

“You--” she couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up her throat, “you got me tea?” 

“Wait--unless I got this wrong -- you like tea right?” 

His panicked tone made her burst out in even more laughter, “Oh my god Chan!” 

“You always tell me to spill the tea--I was just trying to be punny.” 

“It’s--Oh my god--” she doubled over laughing and Chan joined in with giggles of his own, “Chan, you’re so bad.” 

“Admit it, it’s funny.”

“It’s lame!” 

She grinned back at her phone as warmth spread through her middle. It was admittedly in moments like these that she missed Chan the most. The longing to see him suddenly surged through her with such ferocity in the form of tears slowly brimming at the corner of her eyes and she had to turn away while changing the subject. 

“Got any plans this weekend?” she asked while looking over the various flavours of tea.

“Oh didn’t I tell you? Ayeong’s coming.” 

She almost choked on her own spit. Right. She’d forgotten about the whole Ayeon situation and Chan hadn’t updated her since then. 

"We’re spending the weekend together, I think I might bring her to the aquarium. Oh, I was gonna ask you -- what do girls like on their first dates?” his face was now alight with such a joyful glow, a spark in his eyes, that it almost hurt to look at him. 

“Does Ayeong like aquariums to start with?” Micha asked even if she secretly adored going to aquariums herself. It was admittedly a very romantic notion, to hold hands in the darkened rooms as you would watch the fish swim about. 

Chan shrugged on the other side of the screen, “dunno, thought it might be romantic.” 

You thought right, Micha’s subconscious responded, “what about just dinner?” she proposed, “maybe Ayeong wants to spend time talking. You know, getting to know each other.” 

"Hm, true. Yeah, I might look up a good restaurant. Girls don't like fast foods do they? Or anything that makes them gain weight?"

The angry creature was slowly rousing in her stomach, growling, "how would I know?"

"Well, you're a girl."

"That's exactly what the lame redheaded sidekick in Harry Potter said."

"FYI, his name is Ron and he’s not lame."

"That's not the point I was trying to make."

"Michaaaa~" Chan whined, wriggling his shoulders with a pout, "I gave you tea, stop being mean to me."

But it was useless. All the giddiness that had erupted through her at his sweet gesture was eaten up by a bitter taste on her tongue and with that she hurriedly made up a petty excuse about having class before quickly cutting off the call.

She brought her phone to her chest as she looked down at the tea boxes with growing tiredness. That was probably it right? She was in a bad mood because she was tired.

Right?

. ° ☆ ° .

"I still don't get why we have to watch it with you," Micha grumbled, plopping down beside Felix's lanky frame on the couch and careful not to jostle the bowl of salted caramel popcorn in her hands.

"Because I can't be the only one who can't sleep tonight," Changbin stated dryly like that statement totally made sense. He plopped down on her other side while Jisung settled himself against Micha's legs, "if I go down, you go down with me."

Felix snorted, "that's just a nice way to say that he likes bullying us."

Midterms were over, meaning that reading week would be a pleasurable moment of calm and serenity before assignments picked up again. It was a liminal space between deadlines, a gap that Micha and the rest of her course mates had gladly welcomed with open arms. Being the movie fanatic that he was, Changbin had jumped at the chance of hosting movie night, much to the group's displeasure for they knew that his taste in entertainment was rather jarring. Sometimes violent. And sometimes, brought about nightmares that lasted a week.

"What are we watching again?" Jisung twisted his head to look at the trio, causing both Micha and Felix to shoot Changbin accusatory looks.

"The nun," Changbin replied.

Felix whistled as Jisung jumped up crying, "Do you want me to die?!"

"No. But do you mind if we sleep in the same room tonight?"

"Fuck you I'm out of here," Jisung was already scrambling to his feet when Micha's hand shot out, clamping down on his forearm, "oh no no no, you're going down with the rest of us, Han."

"Do you know how scary that movie is?!"

"Yes, which is precisely why we're going to murder Changbin once it's ov--"

Felix's phone sprang to life amidst the conversation, "oh Chan's calling!"

The group wasted no time squishing up, limbs entangling and elbows pushing onto ribs as they all crowded around Felix's small smartphone that he held at arm's distance before sliding his finger over the green button.

"Hey mate!" Felix's Australian accent slipped out the moment Chan's face appeared onscreen and Micha would've lied to say it didn't sting a little seeing her best friend's face after so long.

"What's up Felix? Oh you're all here?" Chan's grin widened.

" Changbin's forcing us to watch the Nun with him," Micha said.

" Tattletale," muttered the said hooded-eyed man as he shoved her head. Micha laughed.

" And you? What are you up to?" Felix asked while Jisung was struggling to push Changbin's arm to get into the camera frame, " Bin, fucking move."

"Language."

" Oh I'm with Ayeong right now. Hyunjin and Minho are playing FIFA," Chan moved the camera around until Ayeong's petite face came into view, causing a knot to form in Micha's abdomen.

"Hello!"

" Ayeong! Lookin' good!"

" How's Channie treating you?"

" Has he farted in front of you yet?"

" Guys!" Chan's checks proceeded to flood with colour while the said young woman giggled in the background.

" As a matter of fact, he's been nothing but respectful."

Ugh. She was so sweet that it made Micha feel sick in her stomach. But as though Ayeong had read her mind, she immediately asked, "Micha, are the guys treating you well? How's your thesis coming along? Chan tells me you practically live in the library."

" What?” Jisung snorted, “that's not true, she--" 

Micha elbowed him before he could splutter out the truth when she had been lying to Chan all along and blabbered out, “Yeah I've been trying to finish my thesis in time because the first deadline is in two weeks. And you? How’s your internship at the hotel going?” 

Micha was thankful when Ayeong chatted on about her experience as a hotel management trainee at one of the best hotel chains in the country. It was a close call and she smacked Jisung some more for good measure, throwing him a narrow-eyed glare which he returned with a scowl of his own, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. 

As the conversation moved on to the topic of the holidays, Micha’s eyes automatically drifted to the diminished space between Chan and Ayeong’s shoulders, noticed the way he kept leaning back with his arm slowly crawling its way to Ayeong’s backside. Something tugged at her heartstrings, caused her to swallow hard. It was clear from the obvious grin on her best friend’s face that he was the happiest he’d ever been since...well, since.

All Micha wanted was to be happy for Chan. Genuinely happy. 

Not the kind of happiness that made her wish she was miles away and blind, not the kind that made her chest ache and her heart hurt as though someone had just gutted her insides out.

At some point, she excused herself and walked out into the backyard, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie as she looked up into the murky, cloudy sky above. How long had it been since they’d last spoken? There was no one to blame for that. They were both sprinting at a hundred miles an hour and she couldn’t blame Chan for falling so hard, so quickly, too quickly for a girl that was so easy, so loveable. Ayeong was the perfect match for him, now that Micha thought about it. 

And plus, Chan had been talking about her for ages.

But she still didn’t get it. Still didn’t understand why it constantly felt as though someone was slapping reality in her face. 

Over and over again.

“Micha!” 

Felix’s head popping out from the kitchen doorway made the said young woman swivel around, quickly rearranging her features in a cold mask of indifference, “Chan wants to talk to you.” 

“Why?” 

Even in the dark she saw Felix’s eyebrow quirk up, “you’re asking?” 

That was stupid, Micha’s subconscious rolled her eyes as she reluctantly trudged to the kitchen door and grabbed the phone from Felix’s hold. She waited for the door to close behind her before lifting the camera to her face.

“What?” 

Chan’s arms were crossed in an attempt to appear mad, though they both knew it would take a lot more to ignite that anger in him, “ Well hello there, stranger. Nice of you to show your face after weeks of going off radar. No messages, no phone calls. We were supposed to call every week. What have you got to say for yourself?” 

In any normal circumstances Micha would’ve shot back with a witty comeback without thinking as she usually did. That was the nature of their relationship after all; that endless bickering, that back and forth sibling relationship that made her feel so at ease in her skin that she sometimes forgot Chan wasn’t even part of her family.

Right now though, she felt her free hand twitch, index finger pressing onto her thumb as she nervously grated at her skin.

Biting onto her bottom lip, the only thing she managed to muster out was, “sorry.” 

Surprise flashed through Chan’s face. There was a heavy silence for a minute.

“Micha,” Chan murmured, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

" Sure. Care to tell me what 'nothing' is about?"

"Chan, please," She rubbed a tired hand over her face, " I'm just not feeling it today."

He stared at her for a whole minute. Micha felt herself starting to squirm.

" Okay," he mumbled out, " Okay."

Regret instantly bit at her subconscious. She loathed the slight disappointment on his face and in a half- hearted attempt to lighten the mood, she quickly veered into another subject and ignored the poignant stare he kept sending her way. She'd rather be oblivious than try and extort some coherent sense out of the tangled ball of feelings in her stomach.

When they said goodbye though, Chan leaned a little closer to the screen, an undecipherable expression on his face, " call me when you feel better."

Micha nodded and swallowed thickly.

" I mean it Micha," his voice was stern, " call me."

Maybe it was the guilt whispering at the back of her conscience, maybe it was the way she saw a flash of his face in a stranger's every time she walked the streets that made her reach out to Chan once more in the next few days after that, willing herself to make as much effort as he did. Because Chan deserved that much.

They would text in-between classes, a mixture of casual jokes and an exchange of anime-related jokes that he kept sending her and causing her to burst out laughing in the middle of her classes. But while she was glad to see that Chan had no grudges to her lack of response, she still tried to steer clear of mentioning Ayeong.

That was starting to become more and more problematic.

Chan: Ayeong is allergic to crab. Did you know that?!

Micha: No

Chan: we went to eat at that snack stand, the one near the skate park we used to go to. She blew up like a goldfish.

Micha would've given anything to see that ridiculous sight. That was quickly overtaken by the stubborn pang of jealousy at the thought of them going to places she visited so frequently with Chan. 

It didn’t stop there. 

A few days later, Chan had texted her about their dinner to his parents' house and her stomach dropped like she'd just fallen down an elevator shaft.

Chan: They loved her. They actually loved her. I think my heart is gonna explode.

Micha had to force out a reply:

Micha: what did your mum cook?

Chan: guess.

Micha: pork ribs and braised beef?

Chan: yess omg! You actually remember. Ayeong loved it. She eats a lot for her size. And dad sat her down after dinner to show off his chess awards. The nerd.

Micha: cool.

Thankfully, her internship started a few weeks later, which meant that it was easier to ignore the glow of happiness in Chan's face and the way he seemed to be drifting away from her arms, slipping through her fingers no matter how much she tried to grasp at the strings of their relationship -- or what seemed to be left of it.

"You sure you don't want to come back home for Winter Break?" Felix asked once when he'd turned up at her shared flat uninvited just as she was closing the door to hurry for her night shift. He’d followed her down the staircase, long legs easily matching her pace as she took two steps at a time. 

“I can’t,” Micha replied breathlessly through her scarf, “I’ve got my internship.”

“Surely you can ask for a few days off? Just for Christmas?” 

"Nope."

Beside her, Felix grumbled, "You're no fun."

"Never said I was."

Micha had to admit that the reason why it hadn't been as hard to ignore the growing hole in her heart where Chan was supposed to be was all due to the three young men standing by her side. As childish as they were, they all had good intentions and it made Micha's heart fill with warmth whenever they did make it obvious that they cared.

Her phone buzzed suddenly just as the pair reached the bus stop. She quickly fished it out of her bag, eyebrows pinching in a frown upon seeing her father's name flashing across the screen.

"Hello?" She gave Felix a shrug when he mouthed whether everything was okay from her side. Nothing. 

She repeated, "hello? Pa? You there?"

"Micha."

Her frown deepened at the sound of her father's voice. He sounded breathless, a tone higher than his usual alto.

"Pa, what's wrong?"

"It's your mother. There was an accident."

. ° ☆ ° .

"What happened?"

Less than six hours later, Micha sat in the hospital corridor right outside her mother's room. She still had on her nurse uniform, completely dismissing all of her responsibilities and obligations the moment her father had informed her of her mother's accident.

If she were to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to make it back without her knees giving away. But Felix had been there, a silent stone figure at her side as she'd thrown a bunch of clothes in a carry-on suitcase and grabbing the laptop from her shaky hands to book the earliest flight which was to depart in merely two hours.

Nothing had mattered then. Nothing but the need to see her mother and make sure that everything was fine. She didn't remember going through security, didn't even remember the plane taking off while gazing out of the window with a glazed look in her eyes and forcing down all the tears strangling her throat.

Micha's brain only came into focus the moment she was greeted by none other than her father’s face, heavy bags under his eyes and the tip of his nose red. 

Multiple lacerations. A broken femur. Heavy concussion that might result in potential brain damage. Words that Micha knew off by heart, could recite them in her sleep if she wanted to. Words that she’d spent months and endless sleepless nights poring over. 

Words that shot bullets through her, each one leaving an open wound. 

“She was waiting for the bus.” 

Her father’s voice, old and gravelled and shattered, brought her back to the reality of the hospital. His alto strung through the air of the corridor like a tightly coiled string about to snap. 

Micha took a shaky breath.

“I...I was late. At the restaurant. Too many people,” all the time that her father spoke, his gaze was glued to the operation door where Micha’s mother laid as if he could will her back to good health if he stared at it hard enough, “So she went back home first because she had to feed the cat. That stupid cat...If it weren’t--If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t have gotten hit--” he choked on his words, “--by the bus.” 

Cold dread threaded through Micha’s stomach and squeezed so tight she thought she would pass out. Her brain was already trying to put two and two together; finding the solution, figuring out the case, the damage. The solution, the--

“They said there’s little chance that she’ll wake up.” 

Reality struck like cold ice.

“What...” her mouth was dry, “...percentage?”

“fifty-fifty.” 

Her eyes slipped closed, squeezed tight. Silence trailed on with only the bustling sound of medical equipment and a hushed flurry of voices in the distance. 

Do something, her brain screamed at her, just do something! 

There was nothing she could do. Nothing. Her hands clamped into fists so hard her nails stung her palms. All she could do was wait.

So she did.

She must’ve dozed off at some point. Time seemed endless as the hours ticked by and by the time her mother was wheeled out, exhaustion was pulsating through her every muscle, her every limb. She stayed awake long enough to listen to the doctor’s statement, only to storm out in frustration upon realizing that there was no real answer and that the only thing that had been possible to do was stitch up her mother’s wounds as best as they could. 

In short, the doctor himself didn’t know when she’d wake up.

Micha was so intent on walking out for some fresh air that she barely processed a familiar alto calling her name in the distance, until a pair of arms snatched her shoulders back. 

She whipped around, “What?!--”

Her eyes fell upon Chan. 

Time stopped. Her mouth parted. 

Red-faced and with his beanie all the way down to cover himself from the cold, she would’ve barely recognized him if they were passerby’s on the street. But as he stood there with his runny nose and eyes that looked like they’d just cracked open, a wave of emotion hit Micha with such intensity that tears brimmed through her eyes. 

“Felix told me what happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, I--”

And that was when Micha broke down into ugly sobs, legs giving away only to be saved by Chan’s arms wounding around her middle to pull her against his chest. 

Amidst it all, she swore she heard her heart breaking.

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of her mother. Or because throughout it all, even in the worst of times, she had come to a realization that knocked the breath out of her. 

She loved Chan. 

. ° ☆ ° .

Tagging: @elysianxshepherd​ @maedesculpaeusoubi​ @missskzbiased​ @freckledquokka​ @allyg-onz​ 

[peterprkrsbtch]

sapphire - part 2

Peter Parker x reader

A/n: Part 1 is up on my page! There’s a couple flashbacks in this one so I put the dates before so it doesn’t get confusing. If you enjoy this one, like or reblog to share! I already wrote part 3 and it’s my favorite one yet so that’ll def be up soon :)

tag- @juliannaamonroe​

Warnings: swearing, make out, violence

(September 1)

We’re one minute away. Come out hoe!

You smile as you read the text, glancing at yourself in the mirror again, nerves and excitement ablaze in your stomach. You’d been planning for this day since last winter, and now it was finally here. You adjust your carefully styled hair and double check that the natural makeup you applied was sitting on your skin correctly.

Of course it was. That goddamn injection sometimes made you feel like a vampire out of twilight and sometimes you still got surprised when you saw your own face while passing a mirror or a particularly reflective window. You smooth down the ruffles of your short black skirt and tug the top of your tank top down so a bit more of your curves show.

You put on your white sneakers and tug your shirt back up to cover your chest again. We’ll have to work up to that, I guess. A long honk sounds from outside your apartment building and you curse as you scramble to grab your backpack and phone before running down and out the front steps.

“Awwww,” You say sweetly at the sight of the two girls who had become your best friends. “That’s the shirt you were wearing when we met, Ally.” You jokingly brush away a tear, pretending to be ultra touched.

“Best damn day of my life.” Ally says from her spot in the drivers seat, laughing at your dramatics. She may be joking around, but her sentiment makes your heart clench. This year really was going to be different.

***

(July 3)

You quickly realized you needed to find some Midtown friends if your plan for senior year was going to work. If you dared to show up looking, well, like you do, completely alone and friendless, you might become even more of an outcast than you were before. The first month of summer had been the least lonely time of your year so far, thanks to a certain Spiderman.

The two of you spent most of your nights together, flying through the city, fighting crime together, and talking. The “slow” nights that used to fill you with boredom quickly became your favorite when he was involved. The sound of his laugh and the jokes he makes during fights quickly became the highlight of your days.

But you couldn’t let yourself get too distracted by him. After all, neither of you knew what the other looked like. The only other boy you’d ever found remotely cute (other than celebrities) was nerdy Peter Parker from your high school. He wasn’t your usual type and he seemed to be just as shy as you were, so you had little (zero) hope that it would ever lead to anything more than a smile during the hallway if you accidentally made eye contact.

Sorry Spiderman, but no way in hell are you gonna make me lose my focus. The loneliness you had felt through the last three years of high school was too much. Your plan had to work. So that night as the two of you patrolled together, you softly mentioned that you were going to a pool party tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to meet.

He seemed a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off, trying to remember the names of the girls at your school who seemed nice. Peter, however, couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that you had told him where you would be tomorrow. There was only so many pool parties in a city like New York.

You tried not to think about who was under the Spiderman mask out of respect and, to be honest, it seemed like a pointless endeavor. Peter was not the same. No matter how tired he was from patrol, he always had time to lay awake before he fell asleep and picture what you would look like under the mask.

There wasn’t very many people who understood Peter’s secret life. None, actually, until you. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by you, because you were so similar, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t it. He liked you. And he hated himself for it. But once you mentioned the pool party, he made sure to take one long last glance at the color of your hair before you two said goodbye. Just in case he happened to see that same hair tomorrow.

(July 4)

You were so, so nervous. Your closet of exclusively sweats and hoodies was trashed as Part 1 of your plan, much to your mother’s happiness. She had always been honest about her hatred of your junior year clothes and was extremely excited to purchase everything you needed. As distant as she was, you had to give her a little credit.

Although you’d been wearing the new clothes for the past month, this was the first time you were doing it so publicly. Your denim shorts exposed miles of smooth leg, and you’d decided to wear a red tube top in honor of the holiday-not to mention it really showed off your curves. You’d meticulously done your hair and makeup like you’d been practicing the past month and prayed that somebody would talk to you today.

You’d seen the flyer for the Fourth of July party on Instagram, which had been step 2. Unfortunately, you had two followers. Your mom and her boyfriend. Step 2 is a work in progress.

One long walk later, and you’re in front of the address. You swear you could explode of nerves right there, but instead you take a deep breath and force your legs to carry you inside the house and towards the people out by the pool.

Your eyes are so focused on your destination, the glass sliding door, that you barely notice when you bump shoulders with someone, causing you to drop your phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say, reaching down to grab your phone.

“Oh my god, stop. That was totally my fault.” You stand back up to see the girl who was speaking, and you recognize her immediately. Her name is Ally, and she’s a part of the most popular group at school. Despite her long black hair and sweet smile, you haven’t heard many good things about her. Not the type of person you were looking for.

“Do you go to Midtown? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Ally says, making no move to walk away from the conversation.

“Yeah, actually. My name is Y/n?” You don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen with confusion and shock. You’re embarrassed now, realizing maybe you weren’t as invisible as you’d thought. In an effort to explain away the last few years, “My dad left a couple years ago and it was pretty hard on me, but I’m all better now.” You flash the most dazzling smile you can manage and hope she accepts it.

“No way, mine did too!” She gasps as she grabs your hands. You feel a small pang of guilt at that. It was a lie, you had no idea who your dad was and frankly, you didn’t think your mom knew either.

The conversation starts to flow between you and Ally easily as you make your way out to the pool. “This is my best friend Betty.” Ally introduces you to the sweet-as-pie girl and the three of you quickly fall into a conversation like you’d known each other forever. A few of their guy friends tried to come up and talk to you, but she just waved them away. “Leave us alone, we just met our new best friend.”

You felt bad for judging Ally so harshly earlier, blindly trusting the stupid rumors you’d heard about her. Popular or not, the three of you got along better than any of the other friends you’d tried to make throughout your life. They do briefly make fun of your instagram before forcing you to take and post pictures with the two of them by the pool. They both tag your account.

Peter didn’t seem to share the good luck you did. He’d dragged Ned to 6 different pool parties across the city and saw no one who looked like Sapphire. Disappointed, he spent the night patrolling alone and dodging fireworks.

***

(September 1)

Since that day, you’d become a trio with Ally and Betty. The day after the pool party you’d woken up to nearly 1,000 followers on your instagram. Everyone from Midtown who never gave you a second look when you had your hood shoved over your head now wanted to be your friend.

The three of you spent the rest of your summer days together, and you fit into the popular friend group better than you could have imagined. Maybe you watched too many teen movies, but you expected them to be mean. The only mean one was Flash, and even he was basically harmless. You’d given up Saturday night patrols with Spiderman for a weekly girls night with your new best friends. You thought having new friends and a bustling social life would’ve made it easier to forget about Spiderman, but somehow he seeped into every area of your life.

That damn laugh. As Ally and Betty sing along to the radio loudly, you bite your lip to stop a dumb smile from rising to your lips. God, just thinking about him made you flustered. As Ally drives into the school parking lot, nerves bubble in your stomach.

As if you aren’t stressed enough, your brain decides this is the perfect moment to remind you of the one night this summer you and Spiderman haven’t talked about since.

*** (August 14)

The two of you were sprawled out on a gravel rooftop next to each other. Not the most comfortable of relaxing spots, but you’d both grown tired of flying around under the summer heat with no hint of trouble for miles.

“This sucks.” Spiderman huffs out.

“Rude.” You reply quickly, even though you know he isn’t talking about you.

“Oh, no,” He immediately sits up. “I didn’t mean you suck, I just meant, you know, because there’s not much going on right now and it’s hot and-” He sees your cheeky smile and stops himself with a laugh. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cute.” You bite your lip. The fuck did I just say? Before you can begin to explain, he jumps to his feet.

“Spidey sense, let’s go!” You jump up too and follow after him as he jumps off the building. Thank god. I’ve never been so grateful that someone’s in trouble. The fight was tough, even with the both of you. These men had strange guns that keep firing at you and Spiderman even though you’d tried multiple times to crush them with your powers.

“The guns are magic-proof! I can’t destroy them!” You yell over to Spiderman as you take down one of the men in between punches.

Somehow, two men get ahold of their guns and corner you. Just as you start levitating to fly over them, a web shoots from somewhere behind them and the men and their guns are yanked away. Spiderman wastes no time and you swear he seems angry with the two men as he webs them to the wall next to their friends before picking up the guns and violently smashing them on the ground.

You’re still frozen in shock, watching him. When he seems to be satisfied with the broken pile of guns on the floor, he runs back over to you. “I’m so sorry, I know we promised-” You finally break out of whatever trance you were in to place a finger over his lips, casting a disgusted glance towards the men staring at you from their webbed cocoons.

“Not here.” You say quietly, and fly the two of you quickly up to the roof. He blinks for a second, his head spinning from the speed. You rarely use your full speed, especially with him, but you had to get out of there. “Okay, go ahead.” You say after a second of silence.

“I’m so sorry, I know we agreed not to get in each other’s way, and I know you can handle yourself, probably better than I can. Hold on, I didn’t mean I handle you. That sounded weird. Anyways, I just got so angry when I saw those men pointing their guns at you I had to-” He’s talking about the agreement you two had made when you first started working together. You both obviously were skilled, so you agreed that you wouldn’t interrupt each other’s fights unless asked.

“Spidey, I really don’t care you interrupted. It was hot.” JESUS CHRIST NOT AGAIN. You immediately winced and slap a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god I did NOT mean to say that I’m so sorry.”

Your rambling is cut off as Spiderman’s hand travels up to the bottom of his mask and you think your eyes might fall out of your head with how wide they become as he begins to pull it up, revealing the soft pale skin of his neck.

His jaw, chin, and then lips become visible as he lets the mask rest on his nose. The 0.5 seconds that have passed since you stopped talking feel like an eternity until he suddenly leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Spiderman is an amazing kisser, you decide, as you gently kiss him back.

WHAT AM I DOING? Your mind is going haywire but instead of stopping, you deepen the kiss and nearly smile when he lets out a low moan. Everything you’ve told yourself about focus and distractions flies out the window when his gloved hands clutch your waist and pull you closer to him than you thought possible.

It feels like it’s only been a second when he pulls away, but your eyes flicker to his swollen lips and you know it must have been longer. You smile as you stare at his lips, only inches from yours, but as your gaze moves to the rest of his exposed skin the smile drops slowly.

Your rational mind comes back. It’s easy to forget when you’re with him that you’ve only known each other a couple months. How could you do this? Your first time making out with a boy, and he doesn’t even know your name.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whisper as he starts to say something.  “Sorry, what were you going to say?” He blinks slowly and takes a deep breath before stepping away from you.

“Nevermind. See you tomorrow.” And he swings away from you. You silently curse yourself for being such a big mouth, wanting to know what he would have said. You can’t help the small voice in the back of your head, telling you that you made the wrong decision.

You raise your hand to run your fingers along your tingling lips before flying home as fast as you can.

***

(September 1)

You wince at the painful memory before reminding yourself everything was back to normal the next day and neither of you mentioned it again. You still weren’t sure if that was good or bad. You force all thoughts of Spiderman out of your brain and even give Ally an encouraging cheer when she successfully parks on her first try.

You don’t remember Midtown having so many fucking students last year, but maybe it was because they were all staring at you. Any confidence you’d had as you opened Ally’s car door had disappeared as everyone around you turned to gawk. The bright smile you’d pasted on a second ago quickly fell and you glanced at Ally nervously.

“Come on, girls!” She says enthusiastically, grabbing an arm from you and Betty as she breaks the brief moment of awkward silence. God bless you Ally. As the three of you hoist your bags over your shoulders and make your way into the school, you mouth a quick thank you her way, hoping she can see your genuine appreciation. She smiles at you. “I’m happy we’re going into this year as three instead of two.”

Betty leans forward to smile at you. “Me too, y/n. I’m really happy you’re here.”  You smile back brightly. There really was no one as sweet as Betty.

“You won’t be so happy I’m here when I talk your ear off during class.” The three of you continue laughing and joking your way down the hall to stop at your lockers.

“Oh my god, is that Y/n?” Ned interrupts Peter’s latest ramble about his night with Sapphire. Usually, he really did listen. Ned was fully invested in the superhero love story, as he called it, unfolding. But the sight of a girl notorious for hiding in her own baggy clothes across the hall in a miniskirt and tank top was more important.

“Y/n?” Peter asks, confused why Ned wasn’t paying attention. But when he turned around to see what Ned was staring at, he understood. He’d seen you around school the past three years, but never like this.

You looked like a fucking model. And everyone in the hall couldn’t help but stare. “Holy shit.”

“Right, dude?” Ned breathes out, the two of them shamelessly staring. “Why didn’t that happen to me over summer? Oh my god, of course she’s friends with Betty.”

Peter laughs as his best friend goes on about “two pretty best friends” but he can’t take his eyes off of you. The light in your eyes as you joke with your friends, making them double over in laughter, feels strangely familiar. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on his part because you’re extremely pretty.

He watches in surprise as you and Ally walk up to the AP Chem classroom, waving goodbye to Betty sadly as she heads off to English. You turn to walk into the classroom after Ally, but you pause and look back down the hallway-right at him. Instead of yelling at him for being a creep like he expected, you smile at him widely before heading into the class. He exhales deeply and glances down at his schedule quickly, a smile appearing. AP Chem.

Of course his thoughts are still consumed by Sapphire, but it was hard to ignore you especially after seeing his name on the seating chart next to yours in the back row. Plus, Sapphire was the one who’d shot him down after he finally tried to make a move after catching onto the hints he thought she’d been dropping.

He felt bad for thinking that about her, he didn’t blame her at all. He knew there was a million reasons they shouldn’t be together-and he didn’t want to know specifics on why he wasn’t good enough. Sapphire hadn’t brought up that night since, and he was fine to pretend it never happened.

You were already in your seat at the lab table, but Ally was still standing next to you waving her hands wildly as you two spoke. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he freezes in place, unsure of whether or not to go sit down. He’d thought you were cute, and a little shy like him in freshman and sophomore year and he remembered the many times he would look at you from across the room like he is now.

His eyes had been quick to find you whenever you two were in the same room ever since the first day of school freshman year when you smiled at him in the hall. Even last year, when all he saw of you was a curled up lump at your desk or a sliver of hair peeking out from behind your hood he still noticed you.

Luckily for him, the bell rings and he slides into his seat just as the teacher begins speaking. “Hi, Peter.” You lean over to him, your shoulders nearly touching, and whisper so the teacher doesn’t hear. “I’m y/n.” You smile warmly as his cheeks and ears turn light pink.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself. We’ve gone to school together since we were 6?” Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed and you purse your lips together.

“No, I know, just-” Peter notices you seem a bit frustrated as you glance around the room and then lean even closer to him. “Everybody thinks I’m new.” You nervously mess with your bracelet.

“You do look a bit different.” He points out and you raise your eyebrows before sighing slowly and shrugging.

“I was just sick of feeling invisible, you know. Not because I care what anyone here thinks. Last year was just, really, really lonely.” Peter watches you intently as you speak, hanging onto your every word.

Your confession made him sad. If only he’d been brave enough to ask if you were okay. You pause for a second and meet his eyes. Any other guy in this school would’ve laughed at you by now. You gesture to your outfit and nervously adjust your skirt. “I’m also not a superficial person. It wasn’t about changing how I looked, I just needed the confidence to put myself out there.” You pause and nod towards Ally with a smile. Peter glances over to Ally and sees her blow you a kiss, which you catch across the room with a giggle.

I miss you! She mouths with a dramatic frown and this time Peter laughs quietly with you. “I thought she was a bitch before I met her.” He looks at you with surprise to find you smiling at him. “But,” you hold up a finger for dramatic effect, “because I put myself out there, I met my best friends. A lot of people around here judge on appearances. I’m not like that anymore.” You say with confidence.

“That’s really cool of you.” Peter whispers back, and the sound sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. He’s so close to you and the feelings you thought you left behind two years ago don’t seem so left behind as you stare into his warm eyes. “For the record, I’d be your friend no matter what you look like.”

Peter has only been this nervous a couple times before in his life, and he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Sapphire with the way he’s thinking about you. He watches as you smile warmly at his words and extend your hand towards his.

“Friends? Even though I'm so much uglier now?” You pout your bottom lip out, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He nearly laughs out loud and has to remind himself you’re still in class. “I know guys go wild for the homeless man sweatpants look.” You’re both trying to hold back your laughter, shaking silently in the back of the class as he raises his hand and grabs yours.

“Friends.” Peter isn’t sure why he keeps going, but he does. “And just so you know, you were never ugly. I don’t know why you tried so hard to hide yourself last year, but even then,” the words leaving his mouth sound confident but Peter takes a deep breath before looking up from his lap to meet your eyes. Your wide eyes and surprised smile give him just the confidence he needs to finish. “You could never be ugly.” Peter can hear his heart beating.

You blink at him. This boy could not be real. Here he was, basically implying that the one thing you had wanted all along, for somebody to notice you, was true. Not only was it true, but it was Peter fucking Parker telling you this. Despite everything that had changed you in the past year, the giddy feeling in your bones brought you back to sophomore year and pining over Peter.

“Really?” Your smile spreads and he seems to let out a deep breath of relief.

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you until your sweet moment is interrupted by a fat ass syllabus dropping onto the lab table in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “This class is gonna be so much homework.” You turn the page so Peter can briefly see the list of projects alone, and it’s enough to make him cringe.

Something about the way the whispers travel back and forth between you all class makes you realize you hadn’t fallen into a friendship this easily, even with Ally. Even with Spiderman, your brain points out.

A red and blue suit swings into your mind and you are hit with a wave of guilt. Not two hours ago I was thinking about my make out with Spiderman, and now I’m comparing him to Peter? 

You have all but one class together, and you can’t help but glance in Peter’s direction any chance you get. The only time you don’t see him is at lunch, even though you look all around the lunch room for him or the boy he’d been standing with this morning. You thought it would be too creepy to ask him where he’d been.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and you were sure if you didn’t have superpowers you would’ve been exhausted. School is kinda draining when you actually acknowledge people. Ally and Betty share your complaints about being tired on your drive home, all three of you agreeing you need naps. You kiss them both on the cheek and wave goodbye before heading up to your room.

Forget what I said about having superpowers. I’m fucking tired. You lay down on your bed, groaning into the pillow at the thought of having to patrol tonight. You sat up abruptly. You’d never dreaded patrol, it was always the thing you looked forward to. You glance towards the suit in your closet and sigh.

It’s not patrol I’m nervous about. It’s him. You feel incredibly guilty about today. I’m not a two timer. If I want to like Peter, I have to talk to Spiderman about that kiss first. You start to make your way over to the closet before another wave of exhaustion hits, sending you straight back to your bed.

After a nap. Then we’ll talk.

[rosyfingereddawnn]

That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

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3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out.  “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream.  Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

[sleeperswakewriting]

Emily don't bonk me! But if you can save this request for the future I will appreciate it 🥺 what if ghost levi has a fight with her petra and somehow he ends in kindred spirits verse and scares cottagecore petra 😆 and they bond over life because she had a fight with her postman levi + tea + pancakes (no horny though but i ship them now ahaha❤️)

oh gosh, this was SO self-indulgent, I could never bonk you, Matri 💕no horny times ahead, this is all fluff. I think I ship it now too??

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

The time in the multiverse had come to an end with each Levi and Petra returning to their universes. For most of the couples, it was like a bad dream (the Levis would attest to this) and for others, it was like an awakened fantasy (see: The Petras).

Therapist Petra in particular had a lazy smile on her face as she recounted the ridiculousness of the whole matter.

“This just affirms that we’re meant to be soulmates! We’re meant to be in every universe,” she sighed to her Levi over their nightly tea. As usual, he sat across from her at the dinner table while she ate and he observed.

“Did you have a good time with Fire Alarm Levi?” Levi asked, his color growing more opaque. While Petra didn’t need his permission, she graciously asked and requested for him to watch so that she could pretend it was him. Fire Alarm, the freaky bastard he was, didn’t mind roleplaying for Petra, and hot jealously turned the tips of his ears pink.

Petra poked at her oatmeal while she blushed. “Of course I did. He’s you.”

Scowling, Levi’s stare bored into hers, “Obviously not. He’s the one with the dick.”

“Stop it,” Petra snapped, her tone uncharacteristic as shame welled in her stomach. “You told me it was okay. And if you remember correctly, I was envisioning you the entire time.”

“He looks exactly like me, of course you were! Bet if you had the chance to visit, you would.”

Petra chewed the inside of her lip, the taste of the oatmeal losing all its flavor. “Can we drop it? I love you and I had the chance to be with you physically.” Petra’s watch vibrated and her eyes widened as she looked at the time. “Shoot, I have to go. See you at dinner.” And she gave an airy kiss to his head, her lips passing through, and Levi could feel himself growing smaller.

“Love you too,” he grumbled and watched the love of his life whisk away into the real world.

He paced. He was too restless to draw, too early to cook, and there was little to garden with the chillier air of autumn setting its course.

He was such a pathetic excuse of a man. Why did he end up without a body while the rest of the Levis were rich, got regularly laid, and at least could go on a real date?!

Levi floated back and forth in the living room and eventually settled to people watch on their balcony. The world looked so small from up here and it comforted him. He liked seeing the sky touch the horizon, the buildings cascading like a rolling wave, and the infrastructure of the city. Petra mentioned there was a beach town not too far from here, he wondered what it would be like to take her there.

Immediately, the image of her in a bikini made him color, and Levi drifted off into a daydream, his vision becoming muddled with the sound of a sea breeze and the honking of a ship horn.

“Levi! Come back, please.” It was Petra’s voice. Except it was softer, less confident, and longing dripped from every word.

“I have to go, do we need anything in town?”

Floor boards creaked while Petra moved and their voices became muffled again.

“…okay. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Regaining his senses, Levi recognized this place from the multiverse, except it was real.

It was Petra’s cottage.

And there was cottage Petra, standing outside her house, crying into a handkerchief.

Not wanting to scare her, but not knowing how else to make his presence known, he coughed.

A bright smile formed on Petra’s face and she turned around, expecting to see her Levi, but gaped as she saw him.

“Ghost Levi?” she squeaked. “How did you get here?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Was imaging a calm place and I guess all your stories of the island made me think of here.” He looked to the used handkerchief in her hand. “You okay?”

Petra sniffed and turned her head to the side. “I got into a fight with my Levi.” She shuffled on her feet, clearly uncomfortable, but politeness wore through. “Do you want to come inside? I can show you around.”

He entered the tiny house and it looked like something out of Petra’s TLC shows. Except it was authentic, and he remembered that Cottage Petra was from the 1960s. It was curious since Levi and Petra had relatives that were very much alive during this time and they must literally be from a different universe. He listened with an attentive ear as Petra flitted about the home. Adoration was evident from how she lovingly described every inch, every meaningful item, and then they settled into the kitchen.

Her tears were long dried and forgotten while she spoke to him of her latest baking ventures, and he eagerly added onto her dialogue, enjoying prodding her mind for new recipes to try for his Petra.

“I love that you cook!” She said earnestly, donning her apron, then her face fell. “Wait, you can’t eat, right?”

Levi laughed. “Nope. But why don’t you sit back and let me cook for you? Do you like pancakes?”

Discarding her apron, Petra situated herself on a kitchen stool, fascinated that someone besides herself was cooking in her house.

“I make buttermilk all the time for me and my Levi. He doesn’t have as much as a sweet tooth as me, but we like to use up our fresh fruits.”

And so Levi did what he did best and began to cook. He could see Petra’s fingers twitching as she watched him assemble the ingredients, and with a smirk, he gestured her over. “You can mix if you want.”

Tying her apron with ease, Petra popped beside him, a smile so wide on her face that it could break his dead heart. She put on a record, the vintage tunes not usually Levi’s style, but it felt right with Petra beside him as she idly hummed and danced along to the music in her socks.

“Do you like raspberries?” she asked him, though realized the question was silly as soon as she queried. He pretended to be offended, went as far as to pool into the floor like the batter they were mixing, and Petra shrieked.

“Levi! I’m so sorry!” She wailed, collapsing to her knees to assist him despite his corporeal form.

Laughing echoed in the cottage as he fixed himself. “Sorry, I had to,” he said, taking the basket of raspberries from her hands. “I like messing with people. Life gets kind of boring when you’re me.”

“I think you’re fascinating!”

A blush rose to face, though only noticeable from his opaqueness, and he silently added the raspberries into the mixture, stirring them idly. Petra watched him, her lips pursing while her foot tapped, and Levi sighed in amusement.

“Have something to say?”

“You have to make sure you mix the fruit evenly,” Petra blurted, and Levi finished with her, “Or else the fruit will sink to the bottom and you’ll get a soggy bottom.”

She gave a shy smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

He shook his head, “It’s nice having someone else to cook with.” A long pause passed between them. “Is everything okay with you and your Levi? You looked upset when I arrived.”

Petra went scarlet and Levi’s eyebrows rose to the top of his head. She fiddled with her skirts and began to anxiously mix the pancake batter while she started the gas on the stove.

“Oh, uh, we’re fine,” she stuttered cutely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.

She shook her head as she poured batter onto the pan, the sizzling mixing with the music. “I don’t think Levi would appreciate it. It’s, uh, personal.”

Levi flashbacked to their personal time in the multiverse, and he gave a low cough. “I might be an exception to that. As my Petra likes to remind me, we’re all just parts of each other.”

Biting her lip, Petra stared at the pancake with unnecessary meticulousness. “Well,” she began in a soft voice, “I want to try for a baby. After hearing Fire Alarm Petra talk about her work as a teacher, it got me thinking how much I want to be a mother. My Levi got upset because he thought I wanted to have a kid with Fire Alarm Levi because Fire Alarm and I,” and she halted, her face going an even deeper shade of red while she said just above a whisper, “you know.”

He did know because he was part of it, but Levi spared her the embarrassment and floated beside her. He took the ladle from her hand and gently set to the side while he looked into her honey eyes. “You would make a great mother,” he assured her. “Any Petra would.”

Her eyes glistened. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Levi said, reaching for the ladle and exchanged places. “And speaking of Fire Alarm, my Petra and I got into a fight about him. Dude’s a trouble maker.”

Petra shuffled while a gooey smile came to her face, clearly enamored with the rich man, but Levi chose to tamper his jealously while he finished off another pancake.

“Want to talk about it?” Petra asked, reaching for her kettle. “You said you liked to smell tea. I make my own brews sometimes.”

Instantly, the comfort of Petra’s home had Levi sharing all of his worries, and before they knew it, the sun had begun to descend, and several cups of tea had been finished off. They sat side by side in the meadow while Levi drank in the sunshine and reveled in the quiet.

Maybe he found a kindred spirit in this strange predicament.

[akayoko]

nights like these

summary: kenma falls asleep in the backseat of kuroo’s car while he waits for the two of you to finish shopping

a/n: just some soft SLEEPY kenma for the soul,, i actually listened to cavetown while writing this, hug all ur friends really made me feel things but it also inspired me a lot hehe please enjoy cuz i had a lot of fun writing this :)

pairing: kenma x gender neutral reader (and kuroo kind of, but mostly kenma)

genre: fluff! 

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

it’s another one of those nights, accompanied by muffled giggles and random banter bouncing off the walls of your cramped apartment. humming a random melody as you hold a warm cup of tea close to your chest, you lean back on the couch, glancing at your friends’ softly illuminated faces under the dim lights. closing your eyes, you listen to kuroo’s remarks at the movie you chose as he clings on to a tired kenma lying between the two of you. i could do this for an eternity, you think, inhaling the delicate scent of the chamomile tea between your palms.

“he is SO dense,” he exhales dramatically, sipping on his drink. “she obviously likes him!”

you laugh at his antics as you snuggle closer to kenma, both you and kuroo making sure to keep him warm and shower him with the love and affection he deserves. he claims he hates the kisses you occasionally place to the top of his head, but he never pushes either of you away. even if he does, he never means it anyway.

“stop that,” he mumbles when kuroo tries to boop his nose.

when he actually pulls away, kenma turns to frown at him, just as if he didn't reject him mere seconds ago. it's a lovely sight.

in the middle of the movie, you reach for the chips only to realize you have finished the third and last bag that night. kuroo looks at you knowingly, and in the blink of an eye, he’s unwrapping kenma from the pile of blankets, telling him you are going for a drive.

kenma of course protests, but you’re persistent. you grab him by the hand, promising you will cuddle him later if he comes along with kuroo and you, to which he scoffs.

“you think that’s enough to convince me?” he grumbles.

“i see you’re already putting your jacket on,” you throw his socks at him. “i think i have my answer.”

--

you leave the store with bags full of snacks and kuroo by your side, enjoying the crisp air biting at your cheeks. you take a deep breath as you look up at the sky sown with stars, admiring the numerous constellations adorning it. dragging your feet against the concrete, you wish you could stay in this parking lot longer. the tranquil midnight darkness reminds you to relax your shoulders, finding reassurance in the way the gloomy hues seem to engulf your senses. 

a faint sound of a car honking in the distance wakes you up from your trance, bringing your attention back to the gentle winter breeze. you sigh as you watch the broken street lights flicker, barely illuminating the vehicles driving under them. midnight trips to the store have always been your favorite, and you’re more than happy you get to spend them with the people you love the most.

“bet kenma’s fallen asleep,” kuroo chuckles, breaking the comforting silence.

“you think so?” you giggle, turning your attention to your friend. the truth is, you did manage to get kenma in the car after you had somehow established a middle ground. he however refused to enter the store, saying two people were more than enough to get food. you decided not to push him anymore given the fact that he was right, so you left him in the backseat of kuroo’s car.

actually, one of the reasons he wanted to stay home was the fact that both kuroo and you were very indecisive when it came to choosing snacks, and he wanted to avoid the trouble of mindlessly walking through the store longer than necessary. so, when you tell him you won’t take too long, he doesn’t believe you one bit.

rightfully so, you think to yourself when you get to the trunk of the car and check the time, realizing that almost an hour has passed. you feel the guilt stinging at your stomach so you place the bags on the ground and ask kuroo to put them in the trunk for you.

you peak through the window to wave at kenma, only to notice that he was sprawled on the backseat of the car. just as kuroo predicted mere seconds ago, he had indeed dozed off. you grin as you tell kuroo to be quiet when entering the car, to which he laughs, realizing what happened.

you do your best to close the door behind you as silently as it is possible for, well, a car door, turning around to look at the boy you oh so adored. his lips are slightly parted, emitting soft snores, and you can’t help but notice how uncomfortable he seems in that position. just as you are about to take your jacket off to cover his shivering body, he shifts in his seat, raising his head to analyze his surroundings. when he recognizes the interior of kuroo’s car he rolls his eyes, letting his head fall again.

“hi, kenma,” you wave at him, flashing him a soft smile. “i woke you up, i’m s-”

“can you come here?” he cuts you off, meeting your eyes for a second before looking away. “i’m, uh, kind of cold.”

he doesn’t need to ask twice. you immediately move despite the urge to tease him, since this side of him was definitely not something a person could see every day. you love him too much for that, though, unable to bring yourself to make fun of him when you see the way he fiddles with his fingers. his lips are pressed in a thin line, and he looks just a tad too small in his oversized jacket. perhaps he’s blushing too, but the darkness doesn’t allow you to notice it.

the moment you step foot outside the car, kuroo finishes what seems to have been a phone call, placing his hand over his chest when you reach for the doorknob of the rear door.

his eyes widen. “you’re leaving me all by myself-“

“shut up,”  you snort at him, moving quickly to sit beside kenma who has straightened himself up to make space for you. resting his head against the window, he flinches when kuroo enters the car, slamming the door shut.

you stare at him, to which he shrugs. “what? he’s up.”

ignoring his response, you extend your hand towards kenma as an invitation to your arms. he takes it only for a brief moment, before placing his head on your lap, turning his back to you. your hand immediately travels to his hair, the other rubbing his back. “sorry we’re late,” you murmur, squishing his arm.

it’s nights like these that allow kenma to let loose, relishing the familiarity of your scent. a fuzzy feeling travels all the way to his fingertips, which completes itself the moment you link your hand with his. he lets his eyes close shut, the sound of the mellow radio tune lulling him to sleep. what’s that perfume you’re wearing? it’s comforting.

somehow, everything clicks for him. he tries to recall the last time he felt this way, and he huffs when he can’t remember.

you hold his cheek before tucking his hair behind his ear, and he hums against your touch. “aren’t you uncomfortable like this?” you ask. kenma doesn’t respond, which leads you to assume he’s drifted off to sleep.

your question resonates in his ears just scarcely, that being the last thing he hears before his grip on your hand grows weaker, proving your assumptions right.

you turn to look outside the window, counting every lamp post you drive by. this time you can’t see the stars but you know they’re out there, shining in their full glory. you’re not certain if it’s because of the heating kuroo has turned on, or maybe because of kenma’s steady breathing on your lap, but keeping your eyes open gradually turns into a chore and you’re quickly nodding off, too; your heartbeat slowing down to reach a steady pace. you run your tongue over your dry lips as you part them to ask kuroo if he has a bottle of water somewhere in the car, but he doesn’t respond. wait, did you ask him anything at all in the first place?

the rest of the night is a blur; the only part you remember is kuroo practically dragging you out of the car and into the apartment, complaining about how lame his friends are.

he doesn’t let it go the following morning either as he taunts you at the dining table, claiming that falling asleep so early in the night wasn’t a part of the plan.

“let’s discuss the movie, shall we? oh right, we can’t, i forgot you two fell asleep again as soon as we opened the snacks.”

he’s exaggerating, yes, but you still apologize and lean over to give him a hug, when both your and kenma’s phones light up simultaneously. you pull away, glancing at the groggy boy as he idly rubs his eyes in the seat across you, freezing in his spot abruptly.

you reach for the napkin to wipe your hands as you hastily unlock your phone, only to be greeted by a picture of you and kenma sleeping in the car, your hand placed on his back as the other one supports your head against the window. kenma is curled up with his head on your lap, his hands resting close to his chest.

kuroo snickers at the scene unraveling in front of him, waiting for a response from either of you. kenma’s ears heat up at the sound of you chuckling, eyes boring into the wall behind you. you tilt your head just enough to catch them, playfully snapping your fingers in front of his face.

“kenma i might be wrong, but i think you’re blushing,” kuroo chimes, propping his chin on his hand.

you turn off your phone, lightly kicking kenma’s legs under the table. “we look cute though, don’t we?”

“if you say so.”

“call me crazy, but i think i’m kind of third-wheeling right now.”

“you definitely are.”

[winterrose527]

Prompt: Person A backs into Person B’s car.

Truly adored this one. Here you go, my love!

****

He was really starting to hate King’s Landing.

It wasn’t that he’d ever liked it. Even when they’d come to the capital for their eighth grade class trip, he and Jon couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to live here.

And now, he did.

Well he didn’t want to but he did live here. He had for about two months. His family company was expanding and as the heir apparent he was in charge of opening the new office, a soft launch for his future as its leader.

With that in mind, he’d gone with very little argument. It wasn’t that there weren’t good reasons. It had given him a convenient excuse to get out of a relationship that had run its course without hurting anyone’s feelings, he was getting to build a team from the ground up, and he’d even gotten a pretty great apartment close to the beach.

Not that he could go anytime other than at night because it was too hot. And even with the salt air it still smelled like garbage.

None of that was anything compared to the people. This city was like a magnet for selfish, aspirational, people with non-existent moral compasses. And not only that, but there were a lot of them.

Which led to his least favorite thing about King’s Landing: the traffic.

It felt like he lost hours of his day to traffic. He would have taken the subway, but the line that would have taken directly from his doorstep to his office (the exact reason he’d chosen the apartment) was under emergency construction, because of course it was.

The light was green and yet the car in front of him wasn’t moving. He looked and saw that the driver was – is she plucking her eyebrows?

King’s Landing had turned him into something he hated. Robb Stark was officially a honker now.

“MOVE!” he yelled, even though his windows were up as he lay on his horn.

As though he was inconveniencing her, she made a big show of stopping what she was doing and started to drive. He went to place his foot on the gas and -bam.

“What the fuck?” he asked the general world.

A gold – yes gold – convertible had just backed up into his SUV.

He got out of the car, ready to let this person bear the brunt of every bit of frustration he’d been feeling for the past two months.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked as soon as his door closed, it was getting closer as they came around his car, “I am so sorry!”

“Yeah well –“ he started and then stopped. “I…uh… are you okay?”

It wasn’t exactly what he had planned on saying but he also hadn’t planned on the person who hit him being the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

She shook her head, slender fingers brushing back naturally golden hair (after two months here he could spot the difference), “I’m fine, I am just so embarrassed. And sorry. Is your car damaged?”

“Um, I don’t know,” he admitted, realizing he should have been thinking about that rather than wondering how her legs could seemingly go on for miles though she would hardly make it up to his shoulder. He started walking towards her and she turned and lead him around his car. And then bent over. “Looks good to me.”

“Thank the gods,” she said with a hand to her chest, straightening up and peering over at him, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded, “It was just a little love tap.” Her eyes widened and he blushed, “What a stupid fucking thing to say, huh?”

She laughed, “Original, though.” Then held out her hand, “I’m Myrcella Baratheon.”

He shook her small one, and introduced himself, “Robb Stark. Can I ask you something?” She nodded, her hand still in hers, “What is a girl like you doing with a car like this?”

This girl was all class. Her structured white shorts and silk button down, fresh face, pale nails as opposed to the garish red pointed ones so many women down here wore.

The car was decidedly not.

“It’s not mine,” she told him and his stomach clenched, wondering if it belonged to a boyfriend that was clearly in no way good enough for her. “It’s my older brother’s. He’s… the actual worst.” He opened his mouth and she smiled, taking her hand up and holding it up in front of her, “The worst. Look at his license plate.”

He glanced at it and saw that it read KING JOFF.

He laughed, “It hurts.”

“Hey Robb, I know I just rear ended you and all, but can I show you something?” she asked.

Anything he might of said. Instead he just nodded.

She turned and walked down the length of the car and he followed her and then she pointed at the rearview mirror.

“Do I need to see a neurologist or is that not a mirror?” she asked.

He leaned over and his jaw dropped, “That is not a mirror… I think it’s some sort of…mosaic? And definitely not legal. You could have taken out the whole city with this thing.”

“Thank the gods, I thought I was going crazy, it’s just that my car is in the shop-,” he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes and smiled, self-deprecatingly, “For a standard tune up. I should have known there would be a catch when he offered to let me borrow this one.”

“Yeah I don’t recommend you drive this thing,” he told her, then asked stupidly, “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

He watched as a blush rose on her cheeks and she demurred, “That’s alright. I can’t inconvenience you anymore than I already have. Thank you, though.”

He nodded, because he did have a meeting he was supposed to be at in about ten minutes.

“Well… could I maybe have your number?” he asked.

She nodded immediately, “Yes, of course, I won’t be on his insurance so please just get a quote and send me whatever it is. I’ll make it right.”

“Oh,” he shook his head, realizing that while that was the normal reason to have asked the woman who just rear ended you for her number it was absolutely not something that had even occurred to him. “No that was actually my way of asking you out.”

A smile landed on her face so quickly that it brought one to his own.

“You’re asking me out?” she asked.

“Trying to,” he agreed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking something over and asked, “And what if this was my car?”

“Um,” he laughed as he thought about it, “Well I’d still ask you out. I would just never ever agree to drive anywhere with you in it.”

She giggled, and then informed him in a stage-whisper, “I drive a hybrid.”

“Family dinners must be interesting,” he teased.

“Oh you have no idea,” she smiled.

“I’d like to,” he told her.

She grinned again and then knocked a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses off of her head and onto her nose, “You know, you’re a lot smoother than the last guy I rear ended.” He opened his mouth and she told him, “Kidding.Do you have your phone?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She typed her number in and then handed the phone back to him.

“Are you going to be alright getting this back in there?” he asked, gesturing to what looked to be a private garage.

She nodded, “Thankfully he didn’t cover the windshield in crystals.”

He chuckled, “No because that would be tacky. Well get home safe, Myrcella Baratheon. I’ll call you soon.”

She gave him a heart stopping grin and then opened her door and eased into the driver’s seat. He went around his car and got back in, easing back into traffic.

Thankfully it was fairly light the rest of the way so he was only a little bit late for his meeting.

It was a busy day, some final interviews that people had wanted him to take part in, some calls with his Dad and Jon up north. So it wasn’t until later, as he walked the beach still in his suit, his shoes off and the sand beneath his feet, that he had a chance to call her.

He scrolled through to M, but Mom was the last entry.

“Was it Marcella?” he asked the sea.

He scrolled up just to be sure, but the only Marcella in his phone was a girl he’d met on a vacation in the Summer Isles. He deleted the contact because he hadn’t spoken to her in a full five years.

No girl had ever not given him her number before. He knew that it happened, it just hadn’t ever happened to him. There weren’t many that he asked for, and only when he felt something that seemed reciprocated. And though they’d only had a limited conversation, it seemed like they had.

She’d been so sweet and sorry and cute, pointing out her brother-

He scrolled up to the Ks and would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy sighing in relief when he saw King Joff waiting for him.

Without hesitating he pressed call and listened as it rang once, twice.

“Hello?” a soft voice asked.

“I’m uh, looking to speak to the king,” he greeted her.

Her giggle filled his ear, “Don’t even mention him I am in SUCH trouble. How are you Robb Stark?”

“I’m better now that I found your number, two scares in one day? Is this what it’s going to be like with you?” he asked.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she informed him, “Want to find out?”

***

Two months later…

“And of course,” he sighed as he slowed down behind a bright yellow SUV.

“I would think you’d be used to the traffic by now and besides,” Myrcella noted at his side, “I would have thought you’d be fine being late for dinner with my family.”

“Your mother already hates me enough,” he pointed out, “I can’t afford to be late on top of being northern, being a man, being unrelated to you, being sexually attracted to you, being liberal, being alive…”

The light had turned green and yet the cars in front of him hadn’t moved. He went to go honk his horn but Myrcella grabbed his hand before he could.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hello,” he returned.

“Do you know what’s nice about traffic?” she asked. He raised his brow and she smiled, “I get to do this.”

With that she leaned in and kissed his lips softly. He kissed her back less so, his fingers carding into her hair as she opened her mouth to his.

Cars had started honking all around him, but in that moment he didn’t care.

He was really starting to love King’s Landing.

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 9: We Brie-long Together

The boys finally talk.

To everyone who has shared their ideas for this story, I love and appreciate every last one of you! I tried to include as many ideas as I could in this chapter. This one’s for y’all! <3

Tag List: @peanut-in-the-goal @whataboutmyfries @raxelle-nite-in-gale @heyoitslysso @spookydiyharrypotterbat

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

@lumosinlove

.

Excerpt from Chapter 8 (If you don’t recognize this I would really recommend reading the last chapter!)

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Logan asked, green eyes hopeful. “At the game?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” The bus driver honked the horn, clearly fed-up with waiting. “You’d better go before they leave you behind.”

Logan and Finn gave one last wave before heading towards the door while Leo began making his way back to the kitchen.

“Hey!” Logan called suddenly. Leo turned back around to look at them. “Can we take you out to dinner tomorrow? After the game?”

Leo’s stomach churned at the wording. He gathered up all his courage, took a deep breath, and asked, “Is this a date?”

Finn and Logan beamed. Leo’s heart skipped a beat.

“I sure hope so.”

Leo smiled hesitantly at Finn’s words. “You’re serious?”

“Of course we’re – ” Logan was cut off by the horn of the bus again. He whipped around to shoot it a glare. “One second.”

He fished out his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text to the team. Don’t wait for us. Harzy and I are going to take a cab back. He then proceeded to turn his phone off. “Finn, you might want to silence your phone.”

Then they both turned to look at Leo again.

His heart skipping a beat had now turned into a full-on arrythmia.

“I honestly can’t believe you didn’t pick up on this sooner.” Finn said, still smiling. “I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle.”

Leo finally closed the distance between them, hyperaware of the two pairs of eyes following his every move. “I had my suspicions. I was just…” He sighed, looking down. “Every possible outcome seemed so terrible and I was so scared that I was going to ruin all of this.”

He reached out to grab Finn’s hand, then looked up at Logan and gently cradled his neck in his hand, thumb brushing against his pulse point. “Guess that was kinda dumb, huh?”

Logan groaned and surged forward to capture Leo’s lips with his own.

Oh.

Leo exhaled in a sigh and kissed back, moving his hand slightly so that his fingers tangled in soft brown hair. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, holy shit. He had no idea how he’d become so lucky, but he definitely wasn’t about to question it. Logan stood up on his tiptoes, grabbed Leo’s shirt for balance, and tilted his head for a better angle.

“Oh my god, I love my life.” Finn whispered as he watched the two them. Leo smiled and broke away from Logan in order to kiss Finn with equal enthusiasm. With a muddled brain, Leo tried to sort through all the emotions he couldn’t put into words before Logan moved to kiss his neck, causing the blond to gasp. All previous train of thoughts had officially left the station.

“We – we should probably talk about this.” Leo managed to say in between kisses, his grip on Finn’s hand tightening.

“Kiss now, talk later.” Finn mumbled back. Logan hummed in agreement.

Leo couldn’t really find a flaw in their argument.

That arrythmia was quickly morphing into cardiac arrest.

After an undiscernible amount of time, though, he reluctantly had to lean back in order to breathe. Both boys looked up at him, pupils blown, and Leo smiled.

What on earth had he done to deserve this?

“As much as I’d love to stay here,” He said as he pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead. “I know y’all probably have to get back to the hotel. You’ve got morning skate, right?”

“No…” Finn whined, pressing closer to his boys.

“I already overfed your entire team the night before a game. I’m not going to be responsible for two of their wingers being tired all day tomorrow.”

“But it’s still early. Maybe we could just walk back to the hotel?” Logan suggested. “I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.”

“It’s November.” Leo countered, then sighed when Finn and Logan just sent him blank looks. He sighed. “Northerners. I will be a freezing, miserable mess if we walk around New York City all night in weather like this.”

Logan pouted, which proved to be very distracting because Leo couldn’t stop staring at those full lips.

“We could always go back to my place for a little while.” He finally conceded, watching the other two perk up. “It’s not too far of a walk. You guys can call a cab whenever you need to leave.”

“Yes.” Finn blurted, leading the way towards the door and dragging Leo and Logan along with him. “Let’s do that.”

“Hold on – Finn,” Leo laughed, trying to pull his hand free with little success. “I need my keys.”

Finn reluctantly let go of his hand, only to immediately grab it again when Leo came back with his keys. Leo arched an eyebrow as they stepped outside into the cold. “You know I still have to lock the door behind us, right?”

The redhead sighed dramatically and released his hand again. Logan smiled and said something in French about drama queens as he stared at Finn in adoration.

It didn’t make Leo’s heart ache anymore. Instead he just felt giddy – like he would never be able to sleep tonight.

How had this become his life?

Leo quickly locked the doors to the restaurant and then laced his fingers with Finn’s again. “Ready?”

“Lead the way, Peanut.”

So they began the walk back to Leo’s apartment, side by side. Leo and Finn shared stories about the places they passed as they walked – a strange combination of childhood stories from Finn and food recommendations from Leo but Logan soaked up every word, wanting to learn as much about his boys’ city as he could.

Finn was playing with Leo’s hand when he brushed his thumb across a thick, raised scar on one finger. He held it up to inspect and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “What’s this from?”

Leo looked down at it. “Oh, I almost took that finger off in culinary school.”

“You did what?”

“We were learning how to properly butcher a cow and it didn’t end well.”

Finn looked a little green. “Oh my god, baby.”

Leo tripped over his feet and looked over at Finn, who didn’t even seem to realize what he’d said.

Leo’s heart would never recover from tonight.

“Oh, Fish, show him that one scar you got sophomore year of college. The one from that asshole who played center at Brown?”

“Oh yeah! Nut, you’ve gotta look at this one.” Finn said excitedly, dropping Leo’s hand to roll up his coat and the shirtsleeve underneath it. “So it’s the third period, we’re tied one to one. I was on a break away, right? And then...”

They continued to share stories as they walked, although Logan was finding it harder and harder to focus on anything else but the rising spots of color on both of their cheeks and Leo’s nose, god it was too cute. The three of them finally reached an apartment building and hurried inside to get out of the cold.

Leo led them to his apartment and unlocked the door before welcoming them inside with a sheepish grimace. “Sorry about the mess, I’ve been making a lot of pasta and didn’t have time to clean it up before I left.” His stomach growled loudly. “Didn’t have time to eat, either, so I’m going to make a snack too. Make yourselves at home.”

Logan looked at the kitchen that was covered in flour, cooking utensils, and several different pasta cutters. He smiled softly at the sight, although he felt a little guilty. “You really went through a lot of trouble for tonight, huh?” Finn stood by his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Logan leaned into him slightly as they both watched Leo preheat the oven and grab a wheel of brie and fresh raspberries from the fridge. Next came honey and crackers from the pantry.

“It wasn’t too bad.” Leo said as the oven beeped to signal that it had reached the right temperature. He put the brie in a pan, drizzled it with honey, and set it in the oven. “I enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I made pasta from scratch.”

Leo led the way to the living room where they all sat down on the couch, getting as close to each other as they could. Logan finally got to kiss the pink of Leo’s cheek, which earned him a soft smile.

“We still should probably talk about this.” The blond said, snuggling close to them. “I mean, how is this going to work? We all travel all the time. I’m based in New York and y’all are in Gryffindor. That’s a lot of long distance.”

Finn sighed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “I’m not going to lie to you, the season is going to be hectic. It always is. But we can visit as much as we can, and then there’s the offseason.” He smiled and poked Leo in the side. “You’ll be lucky to get rid of us then.”

“And you aren’t constantly recording new shows, are you?” Logan asked. “You could always visit or tag along to away games if you wanted.”

“I do a lot of videos from home, too. If you don’t mind me commandeering your kitchen every once in a while, I could always record them from there.”

“Peanut, literally nothing could make us happier than you taking over our kitchen.” Logan grinned at the thought, remembering the week Leo had spent in their apartment. He wanted to have that every day.

“Oh my god, we’re going to eat so much good food.” Finn sighed happily, resting his chin on Leo’s shoulder.

The timer for the brie went off. Leo rose to his feet to head back to the kitchen, shooting his boys a look as he went. “Your nutritionist is going to kill me.”

“Nah. You’ll be fine.” Finn reassured, giving Logan a lovestruck smile. He sent a similar smile back. “I’m sure you can run faster than him, anyways.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.” Leo called over his shoulder, taking the brie out of the oven and setting it on a plate with the raspberries, crackers, and more honey.

“I can’t believe a giant like you is afraid of a five-foot-nothing nutritionist.” Logan teased.

“If you’d seen the way he was glaring at me for all the pasta I cooked tonight, you’d be scared too.” Leo sat back down on the couch and picked up a cracker, scooping some warm brie onto it and adding some honey and a raspberry on top. “Now I know you’re probably full, but y’all have to try this.”

***

Logan looked over at Finn as the elevator began to slow down. “You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” He replied, but he was still smiling.

The elevator doors opened with a ding! and Logan and Finn stepped out. Their entire team was waiting for them in the hotel lobby with matching smug, teasing looks on their faces.

“You took a cab home, huh?” Talker chirped with a wicked grin.

The rest of the team erupted in cheers and whistles and cat calls, talking over each other in order to keep the teasing going.

“We signed up for this, didn’t we?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes.

Finn just kept smiling. He was going to be smiling for weeks after the events of last night. “Yep. And it’s definitely worth it.” Then he raised his voice for the rest of the team to hear, “Keep laughing while you can! We’re going to be soft, squishy romantics for at least the next month and you guys are going to have to deal with us. You’re going to be so sick of it, I can guarantee it.”

The team gave them uncertain looks.

“Now, get ready! I’m about to talk about our sweet ray of Louisiana sunshine the entire way to the stadium. I sure hope there’s a lot of traffic, because I have a lot to say.”

“Oh god. What have we done?”

“Blame Dumo - he’s the one who signed them up for that show.”

“Hey!”

***

The Gryffindor Lions Talk Show: Hosted by Butts and Kinzy

Longbottom: Looks like we’ve got a special guest in attendance tonight, folks! For those of you who don’t know, two of our finest went on a Food Network cooking competition during the offseason, and it looks like they’ve made a friend.

McKinnon: That’s chef Leo Knut. He was one of their instructors on the show. It’s nice to see that they still keep in touch. *clears her throat* There’s a link on all of our social media pages where you can watch Harzy and Tremzy be absolute disasters in the kitchen. Go check it out if you haven’t already! Now for our starting lineups!

[spicycreativity]

Howl - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Fic Content Warnings: Blood, injury, suggestive content, alcohol use

Characters: All

Pairing: Analogical, background Moceit because apparently I can't help myself

Add'l Notes: dw if you don't know what a loup-garou is or how the lore works; all is explained in the story / Have I ever been to Louisiana? No 💕Did I write an entire story set in rural-ish Cajun Louisiana anyway because I hate myself? Yes 💕 / If you're from Louisiana and noticed any screw-ups, pls correct me so I can fix it

It also comes with a playlist! For ambience, not necessarily for the lyrics

Summary:

Two things happen to Virgil Landry on Halloween:

1) Logan Doucet, his longtime friend and slightly-less-longtime crush, asks him out

2) He becomes cursed to spend his nights as a half-man, half-wolf monster: a loup-garou

Despite his new affliction, Virgil strives for normalcy all the way up until he can't anymore and everything falls apart.

The floorboards creaked in their familiar pattern as Virgil paced over them, his feet sliding around awkwardly in his over-the-knee boots. He was supposed to meet Logan alone in an hour, an hour! His heart thumped painfully under his ribs. What did Logan want?

Virgil yanked his phone out of his pocket to re-read the message for the 85th time, ignoring a few new messages in his assorted group chats:

Logan: If it's not inconvenient, could you meet me early at the Plaza tonight? Maybe 6:30?

Virgil: yeah sure 

Virgil: everything OK?

Logan: Yes :-)

What did it mean? Was everything okay? Or was Logan just lying to make him feel better? Because if so, it wasn't working. Virgil ran his hands through his hair, careful not to smudge his makeup. It had taken him an hour and a half to perfect his vampire makeup in the mirror and he didn't want to risk messing it up.

With a sigh that turned into a groan, Virgil threw himself down on his couch. It made the walls rattle, nearly displacing a few trinkets on his crappy, rickety shelves. He heard a tell-tale scrape above his head and knew that his favorite painting had gone crooked again. God, this place was a wreck-- Just like Virgil. He made a mental note to ask Patton for help patching up the leaky roof. It was as good a time as any, as they were well out of rainy season, but it did seem a little rude. What was he even supposed to say? Hey, Patton, I know carpentry is literally what you do for a living, but could you help me for free since I'm broke and sad? Thanks, bud. Yeah, right. He sighed again and tugged at his medallion, a rusted old thing with a glass gem in the center. He had picked it up from a thrift store months earlier in anticipation of Halloween, but maybe he should have made some effort to restore it. It smelled strongly of rust and decay and felt terrible between his fingers, all oily and sticky.

So far, the only saving grace of the day was that it wasn't raining now. Virgil had spent his workday in silent anxiety, eyeing the storm clouds through the shop window and rubbing a small piece of sunstone between his thumb and forefinger. It seemed to have worked, as the clouds had dispersed a little and allowed the watery light of the autumn sun to peek through.

Virgil's phone lit up with a few more messages in his group chats: Roman having hysterics over some detail of his costume, Janus and Remus discussing how to avoid the small army of toddlers that always ran rampant at the Halloween parade. Virgil ignored them all. He was in no mood to be friendly, would probably snap at them. Logan hadn't said anything since his message to Virgil, which he had presumably sent on his lunch break. The question haunted Virgil, that great unknown lurking behind him and instilling a fear that no ghost ever could: What did Logan want?

Virgil set his phone down and leaned forward, heaving a sigh that turned into a yawn. Great. Whatever. That meant he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his breathing already irregular. Damn it, Logan knew better than to leave him hanging like this! They'd known each other for so long and he'd always been more perceptive to Virgil's needs than the others.

Especially lately… They'd been spending more time alone, and Virgil couldn't deny the sweet, warm giddiness that enveloped him every time they were alone together. First meetings were always his favorite, seeing Logan's face light up with a smile. He hadn't dared to think that Logan might feel the same way, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his fantasies on a leash. Worst-case scenarios and best-case scenarios dueled in his head: Logan kissing him, Logan telling him they couldn't be friends anymore, Logan confessing, Logan announcing that he had some incurable disease.

Virgil grabbed his phone and jumped to his feet. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't sit here and torture himself. He would just leave now. He would rather arrive freakishly early than face another minute of this self-inflicted torment 

He double and triple checked he had his wallet and his plastic fangs, which he

was planning on putting on later. The medallion bounced against his exposed chest as he walked and he wondered briefly if it might be more trouble than it was worth. He could always swap it out for one of his pendants, maybe amethyst to calm his nerves. But it looked so good against his skin, falling perfectly in the deep V of his flowy white poet shirt. Unlike his other necklaces, it screamed vampire. And Janus would tease him if he caught Virgil wearing a subpar costume, and then Roman would join in, and Remus, and it would turn into a whole thing . He could wear the stupid medallion for one night.

 -

Virgil regretted this decision as soon as he got his moped going. Even at its 30 mph crawl, the heavy necklace bounced against his chest in a maddening rhythm. At least it was distracting. Every time he started to worry about Logan, the erratic tap-tap-tap of cold metal on his chest brought him back to Earth.

It was a long ride into town down a windy country road. He hugged the shoulder as best as he could despite the lack of traffic; Virgil's neighbors were few, but they all liked to take corners at frighteningly high speeds. The one person who did drive by honked at him and flashed their lights. Virgil's heart dropped and he nearly flipped them off before he realized that they liked his costume. It occurred to him then that he must look pretty absurd: A vampire riding a purple moped, cape fluttering on the wind.

Upon reaching the Plaza, Virgil did a few laps around downtown, smiling at the spiderwebs decorating Vaillant City Hall. Another lap revealed that empty parking spots were already becoming scarce, so Virgil pulled into one and checked his phone. Nothing from Logan. Just more hysterics from Roman, and Patton's best attempts at comfort. Virgil rolled his eyes. Maybe Roman did need some tough love. He scanned through the messages to orient himself, to make sure he didn't look dumb, and then typed out his reply.

Virgil: look, Prince Charming. 2 rolls of body glitter is more than enough. Stop freaking out

Roman: That's DOCTOR Prince Charming to you

Virgil: :*

He put his phone away, tucked his keys in his pocket, and forced himself to walk slowly toward the Plaza. He was still excruciatingly early, but maybe he could pop into a bar or grab a coffee or even swing by his work-- Oh.

There, standing by the reflecting pool with his hands in his pockets, was Logan. Virgil smiled despite his nerves and sped up. Leave it to Logan to somehow be earlier than early.

"Hey, Data," Virgil said once he was in earshot.

Logan's face lit up, and even the yellow contacts he was wearing couldn't mask the fondness in his face. "Evening, Virge," he said. His smile dropped too quickly and he kept his hands shoved in his pockets. Virgil surveyed all this with dread. Was he reading too much into it? Most definitely. Could he stop? No way.

"Everything okay?" Virgil asked, tugging at his medallion and turning his nervous gaze upon the placid waters of the reflecting pool. Great. Now he had two awesome reasons to be nervous. It was an old Vaillant legend that anyone who disturbed the waters of the pool would be cursed, and Virgil did not mess with curses. He usually took pains to avoid the Plaza, even if it meant he had to take the long way to work.

"Yes, Virgil," Logan said in a voice that was far too breathy. He cleared his throat. "As you know, we have been friends for a long time. I…" He paused, blinked. "I forgot what I was going to say."

"Jeeze, Lo," Virgil tried to tease. "You're making me nervous."

"But I--" Logan ran a hand through his hair. "Virgil. I had prepared something far more eloquent than what I am about to say, but I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Forgive me if this comes across as confusing."

"All good," Virgil said, making only a minimal effort to hide his confusion. The medallion was cold and oily under his fingertips, but he couldn't stop messing with it, tugging at it, rattling the chain. He needed some outlet for all this nervous energy.

"We've been spending more time alone together and I

thought-- I wanted--" Logan touched his face and Virgil realized a second later he had tried to push up his glasses, which he wasn't wearing. Oh, how cute. "Virgil, I would like to go steady with you."

A rush of vertigo smacked into Virgil with such force that he had to take a step back just to keep his balance. "Go steady?" he heard himself say. "Like-- Like, boyfriends?"

"If you are amenable to that," Logan said, furiously running his fingers over the piping on his uniform. "If not, I-- We can pretend this never--"

"Yes," Virgil interrupted. "Yes, yes, yes. Logan, I do want that."

"Oh," said Logan, his face breaking into a smile. "Good."

Virgil clenched his fist around the medallion wondering if it was too soon to ask for a kiss. He took a breath and felt something give with a quiet snap. The broken chain snaked along his neck, dragged down by the weight of the pendant. Virgil watched in silent agony as the necklace landed in the water of the reflecting pool with a quiet splash. "Shit."

"Allow me," said Logan, already in motion.

"No!" Virgil caught his hand and held it. "The curse." He realized what he had done and let go of Logan's hand.

"I don't believe in such things, Virgil, but if it's important to you, then I'll leave it."

"Thank you." Virgil stared down at the water and sighed through his nose. He'd already disturbed the water. Would it be better to leave the necklace or take it out? Littering seemed more disrespectful, he supposed. So he bent and grabbed the necklace before he could change his mind. "I'll, uh, de-curse-ify myself later."

Logan nodded, looking preoccupied. "Let me know if I can help. I might be able to repair the chain."

"Actually," said Virgil, stuffing the wet necklace into his pocket, "I was wondering if maybe, um…"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please do."

Virgil closed his eyes so he wouldn't get weirded out by Logan's contacts. He had been expecting a short kiss, sweet and chaste, but Logan's hand tightened in the loose fabric of Virgil's poet shirt and his teeth grazed Virgil's bottom lip. Fuck propriety, then; the Plaza was still fairly empty. Virgil raised a hand to grab a fistful of Logan's hair and ran his tongue along the edge of Logan's lip.

They were interrupted by a wolf whistle and golf claps. "I'll be damned." Crap. Why did it have to be Janus? He was never going to let Virgil live this down.

Virgil pulled away so fast it made pain shoot through his neck. He exhaled sharply and covered the area with his hand for all the good it would do, turning to face Janus with a blush blooming on his cheeks. "What are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking Janus up and down. Janus had always been unnecessarily private about things that really didn't matter. He had evaded all of Virgil's attempts to guess his costume, and now presented wearing an old-fashioned suit including top hat, gloves, and cane.

"Don't change the subject," said Janus, dismissing Virgil with a wave.

In true vampire fashion, Virgil snarled and bared his teeth, then remembered something. "Oh, shit, my fangs!" He dug in his pocket for them, leaving Janus to do… whatever he was going to do.

"Logan, I presume?" Janus asked. Virgil stopped in the process of sticking on one tooth, heart hammering again. Janus and Logan had never met, and they could both be… a bit much in their own ways.

Logan nodded. "Logan Doucet." He held out his hand for a shake.

Janus took it. "Thank God you didn't bother to paint your face, else Virgil would have more than smudged lipstick to contend with. You've got some on your mouth, by the way."

"Thank you," Logan said stiffly. He withdrew his hand and used it to wipe away the lipstick stain on his face. "Nice to meet you, Professor Moriarty."

Virgil's eyes darted back to Janus, who smiled. "When I'm not acting as the Napoleon of Crime, you can call me Janus. Janus Bellefontaine."

"Where's Remus?" Virgil interjected, looking around. "Didn't he ride with you?"

"He got waylaid by some angry mothers because his costume made their kids cry," Janus said, nonchalantly running a

fingertip over the brim of his hat. "He'll be along." To Logan, he said, "Virgil tells me you're an accountant."

"Yes," said Logan. 

"And you haven't killed yourself yet, so I assume you must like it."

Virgil busied himself sticking his fangs onto his canines so he wouldn't worry about the conversation at hand. A sideways glance at Logan revealed that he seemed to find the comment amusing, thank God . "I've always been good with numbers. People, less so."

"Never would have guessed," Janus said, and Virgil didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling that crooked, tight-lipped smile that might have been genuine or might have been mocking. Asshole. "Well, if you have any rich clients, send them my way, won't you? I sell nice suits to dumb men with low self-esteem and too much money and I'm always on the lookout for another rube to swindle."

"If the suits are any good, I'd be happy to," Logan said.

Satisfied that his fangs were in properly, Virgil's attention shifted suddenly to the cold, wet medallion in his pocket. Right. He was cursed. Despite his interest in the occult and the supernatural, Virgil didn't have much experience with curses. His friends weren't really the type to play around with magic (well, maybe Janus, maybe- maybe Roman) and he wasn't the kind of guy who made enemies. No one had ever cursed him before. How soon would this one take effect? Should he go home and come back? Should he hop into the bayou, makeup be damned? Did bayous even count as running water?

He was so caught up in his panic spiral that the sudden sensation of hands on his shoulders made him jump. "Fuck!"

To his surprise it was Roman, not Remus, who laughed from somewhere behind him. "What, are Logan and Janus boring you?"

Virgil looked up and flinched again. While Roman looked relatively normal in his glittery Doctor Frank-n-Furter costume, Remus, who was lurking just behind his brother, was a horrorshow of fur and face paint and fake blood. "Um…" He shook himself and noticed Patton standing a ways off, peering at Remus. Distracted, he went to introduce Patton to Remus and Janus only to learn that he and Roman had run into Remus on their way over and rescued him from a brigade of shouty young mothers.

"He's Macavity," Patton said in a tone like he was pronouncing the death of the family goldfish.

"The other Napoleon of Crime," Janus agreed. "And you are?"

"Patton Haydel!"

A pause. "I gathered that. " Janus gestured at Patton's costume, which he had also kept a secret. Virgil had been staring at it as well, trying to figure it out. Patton was wearing what appeared to be a headless bear costume, round glasses, and what might have been a cowboy hat, though Virgil wasn't 100% sure. "What are you?"

"You have to guess!" Patton said, extending his arms and backing up so everyone could get a good look at him.

Virgil stared at him, running his tongue over the edges of his plastic fangs. "I got nothin'."

Logan took a sideways step and tapped Virgil's hand. Virgil nodded, and Logan interlaced their fingers as casually as he might clock in for work. "He's Teddy Bear Roosevelt."

They all groaned. "Good work, Pat," Virgil said begrudgingly.

"You have a big wet spot on your crotch," Remus pronounced, pointing at Virgil.

Janus raised his eyebrows, turning to Virgil with undisguised schadenfreude, but Logan stepped in before anyone could say anything. "It's water. He dropped his necklace in the reflecting pool."

"Well," said Patton, "that's not good."

"You dropped something in the reflecting pool and didn't immediately run for the nearest source of running water?" Janus asked. He looked from Virgil to Logan, then to their intertwined fingers and grinned. "Ah. More pressing matters at hand?"

"Maybe it's not too late," Roman said, drumming his acrylic nails against his thigh. "We can still dump him in the bayou."

"There's alligators in there!" Virgil said. "Fuck that. You know my house is plastered with wards. I'm sure I can make it through one evening."

"Your funeral," said Remus, leering. "Let me know if your dick falls

off.

 -

Despite his friends' concern, Virgil had a wonderful evening. Logan stuck close the whole night through, and they even snuck a few kisses here and there like infatuated teenagers. Each one sent a lightning thrill down Virgil's spine and made him want a dozen more. His friends noticed in turns and either teased or cooed, but each reaction was encouraging.

Logan kissed him goodbye at the end of the night and he practically floated back to his moped. He was so caught up in his daydreams that he only remembered the curse when he caught sight of the nazar hanging on his kitchen wall. Cursing under his breath, Virgil went to his bookshelf and began to compile a few methods of curse-breaking. Did a shower count as running water? God help him, he was not getting in the bayou. Maybe he could combine methods.

A few moments later, Virgil had everything set up in the bathroom. He lit the last candle, tightened the herb sachet around his neck, and stepped into the shower. Okay, time to focus. He was washing himself free of the curse and wouldn't it be nice if Logan were here? Logan didn't believe in magic and his clear-headed confidence would undoubtedly make Virgil feel better, too-- Focus! Wash away the curse. Logan would probably help him if he asked, helping Virgil set up the crystals and making sure his candles stayed lit-- Virgil! The curse! Wash away the curse.

The bathroom smelled of candles, incense, and herbs. Almost like Virgil's workplace, except that Virgil was using lavender and his boss preferred nag champa.

He stepped out of the shower and inhaled deeply, letting the mixture of scents relax him and draw him toward sleep.