#five minutes of the lunch line being open

[punk-dad-sharkz]

i hope every person who makes fun of food allergies has a warm pillow on both sides and has wet socks forever and ever. I hope they have a paper cut and then get lemon juice on it.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] with a s/o with a mental issues pt.2 (the big sad)

Requests with sensitive themes are reposted with names that hint at the topic but aren’t explicit, to avoid censorship. On another note, I’m taking advantage of this post to promote myself and let you know I’m working on a mini-series of Arcane posters. Right below the "read more" line, you’ll find the link to two drawings and my other socials if you’d like to follow me elsewhere! Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky |

poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | | Steb poster |

Jayce:

- The panic man, but not in this scenario.  

- He usually notices a crisis brewing before it’s too late, and when he picks up on the signs, he intervenes immediately.  

- He’ll take you out for a walk to get some fresh air, clean the house thoroughly, and make sure to open the windows to keep everything well-ventilated.  

- Breakfast? In bed. Lunch? Strategically either at your favorite spots or something he cooks himself—things he knows you can’t resist.  

- If the crisis worsens, he’ll help you with dressing, making the bed, and even brushing your teeth if necessary, without making you feel bad about it.  

- He refuses to let you languish and is convinced that fresh air, a refreshed you, and clean, fragrant clothes will help you feel better much faster.  

- Get ready for some storytelling from any fairytale book he can get his hands on.  

Viktor:  

- He completely understands what you’re going through and notices it fairly quickly.  

- Viktor will be the first to personally help you while also suggesting someone who could support you—not because you’re a burden but because he genuinely wants you to feel better.  

- There’s no shame in asking for a little help.  

- Whether you’re up for it or not, he won’t push you, but he’ll try to stay as close as possible.  

- He insists on boundaries, though. Not hungry? At least two full meals a day.  

- Struggling with hygiene? He’ll buy you wipes, and if needed, he’ll assist you with washing.  

- He doesn’t want you to neglect your tasks, self-care, or well-being for fear that it might worsen the crisis or weaken you over time.  

- If you don’t want to go out, it means you’ll watch a series together—or maybe two. He’ll work on his projects at night, but you’ll never know about it.  

Ekko:  

- Ekko notices it less quickly than the others, not because he’s emotionally clueless but because in Zaun, feeling unwell is both common and a part of daily life.  

- He’ll pick up on it when you become less communicative, when he doesn’t see you around, and when he finds you lying in bed all the time.  

- He’s the least likely to push you. Don’t feel like eating? He’ll bring a plate along with some treats he’s managed to scavenge and leave them in your room so that if you change your mind, you won’t have to get up.  

- Really hungry? He’ll cook for you personally before you even ask, as soon as your stomach growls.  

- Can’t bring yourself to wash? You’ll do it when you feel better—there’s no rush, no pressure. No matter how messy your room gets or how much you stay confined to that tiny space, he won’t make you feel bad about it. He’ll ask if you want to take a walk, visit the kids, or suggest plans to stimulate you.  

Vander:  

- The man who managed the entire Undercity, four criminal kids, the mines of Zaun, and the enforcers doesn’t back down from this challenge either.  

- His approach is to never leave you alone.  

- In the morning, he’ll dress you, comb your hair, and carry you to the bar. If he has to visit Benzo or go elsewhere, he won’t leave you alone for even five minutes.  

- His reasoning isn’t fear that you’ll get worse but rather the belief that having stimulation without exhausting yourself will help distract you a bit.  

- If possible, he’ll take you to the bridge, maybe for a picnic.  

- You’ll always have a smoothie to drink so that, even if you don’t feel like eating, you can still get nutrients. At the same time, there will always be a plate of food on the table.  

- Breakfast? Wherever you want. The other meals? In the living room or at the Last Drop, so the air in your room can be refreshed.  

Silco:

- Before you even realize you’re having a crisis, he’ll leave some pills on your bedside table with a note explaining how to take them.  

- His goons—at least the younger ones—are almost like his children, so he’s used to this kind of situation and already has everything prepared.  

- If you lock yourself in your room, he’ll respect that; you need your space. But if it goes on for too long, he’ll feel compelled to intervene, if only to make sure you’re not wasting away.  

- He’ll ask Sevika to take care of you when he can’t—though she won’t be thrilled about it. Still, the kingpin doesn’t want you to feel neglected or entrust you to someone unreliable or incompetent.  

- He’ll adjust his work schedule to spend more time with you, though his requests will often feel more like polite orders.  

- In Zaun, there aren’t good doctors to turn to, so if the choice is between letting you get a rash, an infection, or washing you himself, he won’t think twice about doing it.  

- On the other side, he becomes much more affectionate. He’ll have you sit on his lap while he’s in his office and keep physical contact constant when you’re together, so you always know he’s there for you.  

Jinx:  

- “You’ve got the Big Sad,” as she calls it, speaking as someone with plenty of problems and few diagnoses.  

- Her approach is also a way of exorcising the illness, making it less scary.  

- Her main method of helping is cleaning and decorating her lair to make it brighter and more colorful, with cheerful music playing in the background and colorful lights stolen from Piltover.  

- If you feel up to going out, she’ll take you to Piltover, where the air is cleaner, there’s more sunlight, and you can soak up some oxygen and vitamin D. If not, she’ll steal anything she can—fruit, toys—so you have something to engage with.  

- When it comes to meals, she’s not great at managing herself. She often forgets to eat, and it’s her father who forces her to have complete meals. As a result, most of the edible things she’ll bring you are cookies, chips, pizza—tasty but not necessarily nutritious.  

- The important thing is that you eat.  

- She’ll try to negotiate with her father to skip missions for a while to stay close to you or go on them at night so you won’t notice her absence.  

Vi:  

- She doesn’t catch on too early but notices just before things worsen. She becomes very protective and more careful and kind in her actions, simply to avoid upsetting you.  

- Out of personal guilt, she won’t let you know if she gets hurt, to prevent you from worrying or feeling bad about receiving help.  

- If you drop something, she’ll immediately stop whatever she’s doing and come to you. First, she’ll reassure you that it’s okay—it happens to everyone—then she’ll help you clean up the mess.  

- She doesn’t care if you don’t wash or dress yourself; coming from prison, she’s used to such things. If you want to but can’t, she’ll help. But if you don’t want to because it’s your favorite hoodie, she won’t push.  

- When it comes to eating, though, she’s more insistent. She eats a lot, and Vander raised her with the idea that eating well is necessary to feel well. She’ll negotiate to get you to eat something—at least three times a day.  

- It doesn’t matter if it’s a small amount, not very nutritious, or not a complete meal. You need energy.  

- If you crave something specific, she’ll buy it—or steal it, depending on the cost—but she’ll make sure you get it.  

Caitlyn:  

- She’ll set up the guest room for you so you can stay at her place while still having complete independence.  

- With her job keeping her busy, she can’t take full days off to be with you, so she instructs the house staff to have your meals ready at specific times, change your sheets, and clean your room to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible.  

- To make up for her absence, she brings you pastries, slices of cake, or anything else she thinks you might enjoy.  

- If she notices you’re not eating, she’ll simply sit with you and talk about how you need to eat at least a little, asking about your preferences so she can make sure you get the meals you want.  

- In the evening, she’ll take a bath with you, washing your hair and massaging your back—both to make you feel better and to ensure you go to bed completely comfortable.  

Mel:  

- She struggles to notice something’s wrong until it’s too late or you tell her outright.  

- Her work consumes so much of her time and energy that when she’s with you, she doesn’t immediately pick up on any issues.  

- Her priority is keeping you in the light, which is why she moves you into her room with large windows to let the sunlight work its magic.  

- In the mornings, she’ll prepare a coffee, a pastry from the best bakery, and a glass of water with an effervescent vitamin C tablet for you.  

- Being a woman of science, she believes in medication, but if you’re not ready to seek professional help, she’ll at least ensure you take vitamins so your body doesn’t suffer as much as your mind.  

- The deal is that you can do what you want during the day, but someone will bring you meals (and you’ll need to eat at least half), and all hygiene routines are moved to the evening so you can do them together with her help.  

- Bath, shower, teeth, skincare, hair—you do everything together while chatting (as staff change the sheets and tidy the bed so you don’t feel burdened).  

- She’ll try to skip the least important meetings to have meals or at least coffee with you, making sure you’re not left alone too much.  

- At least three times a week, she gives you small errands to run, knowing that getting outside, walking, and fresh air will do you good.  

Sevika:  

- It might not seem like it, but despite her gruff exterior, she has a very soft heart. Surrounded by people with problems, she quickly notices when something’s wrong.  

- She won’t bring it up first; instead, she’ll ask how you’re feeling, and if you hint that something’s off, her response is, “Do you want to talk about it?”  

- If you break down while talking, she’ll hold you close, not interrupting or offering opinions. She just listens, lets you vent, and gives you something to wipe your tears. It’s not coldness—she simply wants you to process the pain at your own pace.  

- She’ll mention it to Silco, at least to arrange more regular or reduced hours, ensuring you’re not left alone for too long.  

- When she returns from a mission, she always tries to bring you something nice or that reminds her of you—a vulnerable gesture she wouldn’t usually make so lightly but does willingly when you need it.  

- She’s unbothered by smells; if you don’t wash, she won’t push you. She just wants you to feel okay. At least once a week, if you can’t manage it, she’ll wash you herself to lighten your load, turning the moment into an act of care.  

- If she has to leave at night, she’ll tuck you in, whisper that she’s heading out, and leave a glass of clean, fresh water and a sweet treat on your nightstand to reassure you that she didn’t want to leave but had no choice.  

[mournings-stars]

adam's wings

this is the adam smut i was talking about... it was originally gonna come after a mini fic but i couldn't figure out how to end the fic so yall can have this smut

all you need to know is adam's had a massive crush on the reader (fem!reader) for like 5+ years and in the last extermination her wings get got (poor you)

I'll publish the fic eventually but enjoy this man being pathetic and a switch (also i hardly write male smut so i hope it's good :))

Life without your wings was something you were just going to have to get used to. It was awful, for the most part, and when it wasn’t it was tolerable. Instead of flying, you and Lute walked in the mornings… you had to use stairs, and you had to ask for help getting things that were too high — of course, Adam liked when you asked him to get things. It boosted his already massive ego now that you were spending more time together. 

Instead of a yearly lunch and dinner after extermination with casual work conversation in between, you had lunch once a week and found yourselves talking often. 

Like today; you weren’t expecting anyone, but Adam brought it upon himself to come to your apartment. He appeared on your balcony, knocking on the glass doors impatiently until you opened them, confused. 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“You could sound a little happier, dude,” he scoffed as he held out a bag. “I brought you food.”

“Sorry knocking at my window freaked me out, dude.” You rolled your eyes as you took the bag. “Are we having lunch together?”

Your excited face made him frown and you quickly understood that no, you were not having lunch because he was always busy doing the job you used to help with. 

“Hey, don’t look so down, angel.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek. “If you’re still up, I’ll stop by for dinner.”

“Just wake me up—“

“No can do, sugar tits,” you rolled your eyes at the nickname. “Doc says you still need rest.”

“Ugh! Fuck the doctor!” You tossed the food on your coffee table, making him yell “hey!” “Sorry.”

“I used my piss break to get you that!”

“I said sorry! I’m sorry. Thank you for the food.” He huffed, looking at the discarded bag. “Don’t be a baby.”

“You’ve been in such a fucking mood, babe.” He brought his hands to your hips, pulling you up against him. “What happened? You were doing fine without…” His hands traveled to your lower back, then further up, making you wince. “Have you been resting?”

“Don’t baby me. I don’t need rest — I need my fucking wings back—“

“Sh, sh, sh,” he cooed, head lowering to your neck. “Watch your fucking mouth.” The cool mouth of his mask grazed your skin as his fingers traced down the line of your spine, making you inhale sharply and arch toward him. He took that opportunity to hold you tighter. “I can make you feel better, angel… Do you want me to?” His lips pressed against your neck, much more tender than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t mind having to ease in. 

“How much longer is your break?”

“Ended five minutes ago, but who gives a shit?” He laughed as his kisses on your neck became more forceful. “I’ll tell them you needed my help… that you begged me to stay… I’ll say I couldn’t fucking resist you…” He licked a stripe up your neck, making you shudder. “I just had to help… It’s the angelic thing to do—“

“Adam.”

“Yeah, baby?” He was biting down on your neck. 

“Bedroom,” was all you had to say for him to suck the darkest fucking hickey onto your skin. 

“Fuck yeah, baby!” Before you could turn away from him, he lifted you up and took you to your room, setting you on the bed before you pulled him on top of you. You got his mask off as quickly as possible, accidentally leaving the horns, but you didn't care. 

“You look kinda sexy with horns,” you said as you pulled him down and pressed your lips to his. 

“Kinda?” He laughed into the kiss.

“Mmm… Really sexy.” He groaned when your hands caressed the horns, gripping them and forcing his head at the angle you wanted. “Yeah. I could get used to this.” 

“Don’t get cocky,” he warned, eagerly pushing his hips up against yours and shoving his tongue in your mouth with so much haste you had to pull back. 

“I don’t want a quickie today—” you started, speaking against his forceful lips. 

“Yeah, sure, angel, whatever you want,” he impatiently got his mouth back on yours, hands pulling you against him harshly.

“Stay with me today… You can work from home, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come up with something. Just shut up.” But then he paused. “Home?” He asked. “With you?”

It was times like these where you remembered he’d been crushing on you for at least five years. You laughed. “Figure of speech, darling—“

“Oh, right, right.” He was quick to get his mouth back on yours. 

“But…” You tried to speak between kisses. “I wouldn’t mind — you — coming home — to me every night — like this—“

“You’re making me hard as fuck. Stop talking.” You did as he asked, but reached your hand down to grope him. Before you could, he grabbed your hand and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said quickly before bringing his mouth back to your neck to suck bruises on to. 

But you wanted to touch him, and as your half-lidded eyes looked at what you could touch, your hands reached for his golden wings. Your fingertips stroked the tops of them, feeling just how delicate they were. They were soft, fragile, and utterly beautiful. Your hands traveled down to the base of them, fingers tracing around the feathers with gentle pressure. 

Adam froze on top of you, cutting off his kisses with a strained moan as he shuddered, hips jerking and eyes fluttering. “F-ah-fuck, oh my… fuck,” he whined as you continued your gentle touches to his wings. His hands gripped you harder, hard enough to bruise, but you didn’t care when you had his head buried in the crook of your neck as he whined in your ear, hips thrusting up against nothing to try and get some kind of relief. “Baby… your gonna — fuck — you gotta stop — it’s — ah, fuck.” He was trying to push your hips down so he could at least grind against you as you tortured him like this, but he couldn’t pull himself together enough to get it right. 

“Shh, baby, I got you… You like that?” He sunk his teeth into your shoulder when you spoke, moaning against you. “Let me help,” you laughed, stopping momentarily to get his and your robes off. 

He couldn’t even give you foreplay if he wanted to right now. He just needed to be inside you. 

That’s exactly what you let him do. You got both your undergarments off as he lazily kissed your shoulder and reached down, guiding him between your legs. You inhaled, moaning when he pushed his cock inside of you, filling you up and making his hips twitch with how wet and ready you were for him. Your legs went around his waist as he rocked his hips and your hands went back to his back. 

As soon as you touched his wings again, his hips were snapping against yours and he was muttering incoherently, “fuck, baby.” “Needa be inside you.” “So good.” “Want you even more.” “Don’t stop.”

When you started whining in his ear as he buried himself inside you just to grind against you, massaging that soft spot just above your cervix and making your cunt tighten around him, he completely lost it. He didn’t hold back on his loud moaning, desperate licking, or harsh biting for anything. He left your neck, shoulders, and collarbones a discolored mess as his hands found your breasts and groped. He pinched your nipples, rolling and twisting harsh enough to get you arching into him, but gentle enough to make sure he didn’t hurt you. 

“You’re all mine,” he panted into your neck, kissing up to your cheek in an effort to find your lips. “No one else can have you… You can’t — ah — you can’t let anyone else touch you. I’d have to fucking kill them,” that, he said clear as day, making you moan his name. “No one’s ever gonna hurt my angel again… Never.” Finally, his mouth found yours and his rough kisses had you gasping for breath as if he’d just threatened you and not the entire world outside of this room. 

His hips didn’t stop, but the more you felt up his wings, the sloppier he got. “Fuck,” he groaned, voice hoarse. “Need more of you.” He brought one hand by your head, pushing himself up and getting your dangerously pleasuring hands away from his wings as his other hand went between you and pulled your hips up. He pulled his hips back before thrusting into you, making your eyes roll back as you turned to the side to bury your face in your pillow. “There it is.” He held you in place, hitting that same spot with each thrust and making you tighten around him. “That's it… That's my girl.” 

You fisted the sheets, moaning loudly into your pillow. Adam grabbed you by the neck, using his fingers to turn your head toward him. “Let me hear you,” he said, voice still whiny from the way you were touching him and making your stomach flutter. “You’ve been feeling me up this whole fucking time, it’s time for my reward, yeah?” You nodded, never breaking eye contact, and he smiled. “Good fucking girl.”

His hand went down to your hips, resting on your lower stomach and pressing down to make you groan. His thumb moved to your clit, pressing down to feel you pulse against him. He laughed. “I knew you fucking needed me. Little attitude’s all fucking gone now, huh?” He circled his thumb, thrusting into you at the same excruciatingly slow pace. “Thought you’d have me like this, didn’t you, angel? All fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck you—“ You whined, trying to sound mad and failing — how he’d completely flipped the situation was beyond you, but you didn’t care when you felt like this. Of course, that wouldn’t stop you from running your mouth. (Or getting him back later).

“Shut up and take it, bitch— oh! Shit, that was kinda mean. Fuck, sorry babe.” He leaned down, kissing you quick and making you laugh as your hands reached up to his face to keep kissing him. “I didn’t mean that.” But when you kept laughing, he quickly told you to, “shut up,” again, then, “you sound really fucking pretty, so don’t actually.”

“Adam,” you warned, hand reaching down toward his wings. “You’re the one that needs to shut up—“

“No fucking way.” He grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, picking his pace back up and making the bed knock against the wall with how rough he was being. “You and your pretty little hands are dangerous, angel… Gotta put you back in your place.” He brought his hand to the back of your thigh, pushing it up by your side to get even deeper. 

That and so he could watch your cunt taking him. His gaze alone made your legs shake, your moaning picking back up. He got the hint, pushing himself deeper and grinding against you until you were so tight around him that he could hardly move.

But he did anyway, fucking into you harder and faster as his hands held your squirming hips still. He moaned at the way you tightened around him, your hands pushing at his hips to get him to stop overstimulating you as you came, but that did nothing but turn him on as you moaned his name like a fucking prayer, back arching and hips writhing on the sheets as your hands settled to grip his wrists and your eyes shut in pure bliss. 

“Shh, baby, I got you,” he mocked your words from earlier, making your eyes screw shut as you tightened around him again. That made him shudder, his hips twitching as he thrusted sharply, his orgasm filling you up and dripping out of you as his eyes shut and hands moved to grip yours, pinning them to the bed. 

He pulled out slowly, watching his cum spill out of you with a cocky smile. “Fuck, you look good like this,” he said, hands squeezing yours. “How’s it feel having the—“

“If you say anything about your ‘first dick,’ I’ll kill you,” you said breathlessly, cutting him off before he could start and making him roll his eyes. “But… it feels really fucking good—“ “That’s my fucking girl!”

[surielstea]

Lunch Break

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel surprises reader at work with food and a clingy attitude.

Warnings: Az being handsy with reader | cursing

2.5k words

I was in the middle of scheduling a meeting on my boss's calendar when the loud ringing of the phone made me jump.

I quickly picked up the phone and tucked it beneath my ear then continued my typing before I lost my train of thought.

“Velaris enterprises, how can I assist you?” I say with a polite tone.

“It’s Feyre, can you tell Rhys to pick up his phone?” A familiar female voice sounds on the other side of the line. A smile curves my lips.

“Hi Fey, I’ll transfer you to him right now,” I say to the woman with a light tone.

“Thank you,” She sings as I redirect the call to my boss who seemed too busy to pick up his wife’s call.

The line ends and I hang up the phone and then return my attention to my desktop, I had only one more report due until I was letting myself take my lunch break, reclining in my chair with a huff as I continue to type, manicured nails clicking along the keys at a fast pace. In the middle of my sentence, the phone rings again and I pick it up blindly, keeping my eyes on my screen.

“Feyre I could knock down his door but I doubt he’ll answer—” I begin but I am cut off by the other line.

“It’s me.” Is all I heard and my spine straightened at the baritone voice that was so very familiar.

“What’d I tell you about calling my work phone?” I say slightly hushed, afraid my coworkers will notice me being off task.

“You weren’t answering your texts,” He defends, his tone playful, making me suppress a smile.

“What’s so important you couldn’t wait until my break?” I ask, the amused tone in my voice unavoidable as I mindlessly doodle on a blank sticky note, unable to multitask when talking to him.

“I brought you lunch, come downstairs,” He replied and a smile tugged at my lips.

“Right now?” I mumble into the phone with a soft sigh.

“Yeah, c’mon gorgeous it’s going to get cold,” He urged and this time I let myself smile.

“Alright, I’ll be down in five just need to finish something up real quick,” I say, and before he can protest I hang the phone up.

I rush to finish my report, doing it in three minutes instead of five, and feeling slightly accomplished with myself as I close the tab.

I stand from my chair, brush my short skirt down, and round my desk to approach the door to my Boss’s office. I knock lightly before creaking open the door, only to spot Rhysand on the phone with his wife presumably, feet propped up on his desk casually as he did anything but work.

“I’m taking my break,” I whisper and he nods, giving me a wave of my hand. I close his office door and pivot in my high heel.

I walk down the aisle of cubicles with a small skip in my step, excited to see my boyfriend, and also the food he brought for me.

“Taking your break already?�� A man named Matthew had asked, leaning back in his chair and peering up at me.

“Yeah, I didn’t get the chance to eat anything this morning,” I reply politely, passing by him.

“You should come out with me and some of the other guys after work tonight, we’re going to the bar off Ninth Street,” He gestures westward and my brows raise a fraction.

“Sounds fun, I might have plans but I’ll let you know,” I say with a gentle smile and he nods, then turns back to his desk.

“Have a nice lunch,” He lowly whistles as I continue my path toward the elevators.

Mathew and his friends had always been so kind to me, I hadn’t really known why, they knew I was with Azriel, which meant they knew they had no chance. And they didn’t seem like the type to respect women, especially not secretaries. So it was best to let them down easy and politely decline their offers or at least give them false hope.

I clicked the button of the lift that would take me down to the lobby, the ride was long from the top floor, giving me the chance to wonder what kind of foot Azriel had brought for me since he hadn’t mentioned it.

I bounced on my heels impatiently until the elevator dinged and the doors parted. I smile and walk out, tucking my arms behind my back to contain my excitement. Gods, I felt like a teenage girl meeting her first boyfriend in the hallway.

“Hi, Mrs. Levvy,” I wave to the older woman who sat at the check-in desk in the building.

“Leaving, dearie?” She asks with a soft smile that I return.

“I’ll be back, just going to pick up lunch,” I say and she nods, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

The automatic doors open and I immediately spot my boyfriend leaning against his black bike, arms crossed over his chest as the sun beams down onto him. His eyes lock with mine and a dimpled smile takes over his features as I approach him, taking in the way his compression shirt hugs his large arms or the way his tattoos run up the side of his neck.

“Hey, gorgeous,” He greets, hands coming to my waist as I stand between his legs.

“Hi, handsome,” I return, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck and pressing a soft peck to his lips then pulling away a moment later. “What’d you bring me?” I ask, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth. He turned to his side, his helmet and a paper bag propped onto the seat of his bike. He grabs the bag and hands it to me. I peer inside and am immediately met with a familiar savory scent. I look up at him with a beaming grin. “My favorite?” I ask and he nods.

“For my favorite girl,” He hums, hands lowering to my hips.

“Thanks, Az,” I sling my arms around him and hug him tightly. He returns it, his head nuzzling into the crook of my neck. He stays like that, not wanting to move away until inevitably I pull back.

“What’s the occasion?” I say, placing the bag beside his helmet, I still had ten minutes left to my break, and I was determined to spend every last second with him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t get to make you breakfast before you left this morning,” He said and I smiled at the memory, how he sleepily clambered from bed only to coerce me back to the mattress with his deep voice and lazy kisses. It hadn’t lasted long before my alarm went off for the umpteenth time and we both knew I had to leave if I didn’t want to be late.

“That’s sweet of you to leave work for me,” I smile down at the bag and then back up to him, one of my hands intertwining into his hair.

“The shop was slow today, I only had a few appointments until I decided to close early,” He excuses and I tilt my head up at him.

“Still, means a whole lot,” I murmur, leaning into his chest as his hands snake down until finding purchase at the curve of my ass. “Az,” I warn.

“What? This skirt is so short and I’m only a man,” He defends and I roll my eyes.

“Keep it in your pants,” I scoff.

“Afraid I can’t, gorgeous,” He shakes his head. “What about all the other men in that office? They shouldn’t be staring at what’s mine,” He practically whines and I look at him in both disbelief and amusement.

“I assure you, they know I’m yours,” I put him at ease, my hands coming to his jaw.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear these slutty shirts,” I say, tugging at the hem of his compression shirt. He smiles because he knows exactly what I’m talking about. The bastard was highly aware of what he was doing to me.

“Guilty,” He smirks, his hands gripping my ass and I squeal, an uncontrollable grin coming to my features, I was going to retort only to be cut off by the alarm from my phone, that familiar ringing that only meant separation for us. Azriel audibly groans as I quickly silence my alarm, my smile fading away.

“I’m sorry, babe I’ll see you at home okay?” I say and he pulls me impossibly closer, stuffing his face back into my neck.

“Don’t go,” He practically whines and I run my hand through his hair reassuringly.

“You know I’d stay if I could,” I sigh and he tears from my neck in favor of looking me in the eyes.

“Come back home, I’ll take the rest of the day off and we could spend it together,” He pleads, the male awfully clingy despite his usual cold demeanor.

“Az, I can’t my boss—” I start.

“Who? Rhys?” He cuts me off and I frown up at him, then give him a dip of my head as a nod.

“Let me talk to him,” He urges. “I promise you’ll get the rest of the day, paid,” He says and I look at him pointedly, not believing him one bit.

“And how are you going to do that?” I retort.

“He owes me,” He shrugs.

“For what—” I start but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the entrance of the building.

“C’mon, I want to be home already,” He says as I intertwine our hands.

Mrs. Levvy looks up through her glasses at the two of us with an arched brow. “You can sign her out, she’ll be leaving soon,” Azriel says, dragging me towards the elevators. I apologize for his behavior as the doors close on me but she only waves me off with a chuckle.

“Why are you so needy today?” I say, poking his abdomen as the lift takes us to the top floor.

“Can’t help it when you’re dressed like this,” He replies, arms slinging over my shoulders and hugging me from behind.

“So possessive,” I murmur as the doors slide open and I leave his grasp. I walk down the line of cubicles, heads turning as Azriel walks behind me with his hands stuffed into his pockets casually. “I’ll tell him you’re here,” I whisper in the quiet office, dialing on the phone but when I glance up at the brunette I spot him opening the door to Rhysand’s office. Panic rises in my chest and I pale, rushing to stop him.

I enter the room and wedge between Azriel’s frame and the door. Rhys looks at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what he’s thinking,” I smack my hand against my boyfriend’s chest before gesturing him out of the office. My boss only chuckled.

“Relax, if you think this is the first time Azriel’s barged in on me you’re sorely mistaken,” Rhys says with a coy smile.

“Gather your things, baby,” Azriel says with an outmatched confidence. I stare up at him in bewilderment and he only jerks his head as a gesture to my desk and I glare in warning, silently telling him that I’ll kill him if he gets me fired.

Reluctantly, I leave the office and go back to my desk, the door closing behind me. Anticipation rolls into a mass of anxiety. To distract myself I do as Azriel said, collecting my items and putting them into my purse, slinging it over my shoulder, and by the time I was ready to leave Az had exited the office with a soft smile on his lips.

I look at him expectantly. “You ready?” He asks and my jaw nearly drops.

“Wait, how did you?” I say with creased brows, looking at the closed office door and then at him quizzically. He shrugs innocently.

“When you’ve known someone since you were eight years old it’s easy to convince them,” He explains and I narrow my eyes on him.

“You blackmailed him, didn’t you?” I accuse and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I did, yeah,” He grabs my hand and guides me back towards the elevators.

I smiled up at him amused, before halting in my steps when I heard my name called.

I look to the culprit, spotting Mathew with raised brows. “I assume you found plans?” The man asked and I feigned a frown.

“I did, I’m sorry maybe next time,” I tilt my head sympathetically, the way one might pity an animal. My boyfriend’s hands snake around my waist protectively and I nearly roll my eyes at his theatrics.

“Maybe,” Azriel restates, emphasizing the low chance of it.

“Right, next time,” Mathew nods, and the male behind me tugs at my waist, urging me along.

“Have a good rest of your day, Mat.” I give him a small wave.

“You too,” He nods and I pivot on my heel, Azriel glaring daggers at anyone who stared for a moment too long.

Once we were back in the elevator, alone, he dropped the menacing act in favor of his original clingy one. “So are you going to tell me what you blackmailed Rhys with?” I tease and his brows raise.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, but there are some things I can’t speak of, even to you,” He sighs and I giggle, knowing it must be bad if he didn’t have it in himself to tell me. I dropped it, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get it out of him if I tried.

The doors opened and we both exited. “I need to sign out,” I say to Mrs. Levvy, approaching her desk. She waves her hand dismissively.

“I already did, dearie,” She says and my brows raise, looking to Azriel who only had a cocky smile on his face.

“Then have a good rest of your day I suppose,” I say, backing away towards the doors.

“You have fun you two,” She waves and I return it before Azriel has me outside.

When we get back to his bike he opens the hatch at the front, the compartment holding my helmet. He hands me the light pink item and I smile, putting the helmet over my head and securing it tightly, flicking down the visor.

“You’re so cute,” He admires.

“Shut up,” I say, my words muffled through the helmet and mount the bike.

“You’re not driving,” He looks at me pointedly and I grasp the handles, looking up at him cheekily.

“Why not?” I arch my back playfully and his eyes trace down the crescent shape of my body, then back to my covered eyes.

“No,” He declares before grabbing my waist and taking me off the bike, placing me back onto my feet as I pout up at him. He straddles the bike and puts his helmet on. I huff and get on behind him, my arms wrapping around his torso reflexively. “Ready, gorgeous?” He turns his head to look back at me.

I nod, pressing the side of my helmet to his back, squeezing around him tightly, beyond excited to be going home for the rest of the day instead of heading back to work.

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[yxngbxkkie]

little date at the shop (b.c)

y'know, depending on what happens, i might do little blurbs on mechanic!chris 🫢 i never thought i'd like it this much 🤭 i do hope you guys enjoy this cute fic! let me know what you think 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

“Do you think he'd like it if I brought him food?” You ask Hyunjin, pinning your phone against your shoulder.

Your friend on the line scoffs, and you can see him rolling his eyes. “I'm sure he would, yes,” Hyunjin answers. “He's always liked that kind of stuff.”

A smile graces your lips. “Okay, I'm going to bring him lunch then,” you giggle, putting the phone on speaker before looking at your delivery app.

“If I knew you are going to act like this, I never would've introduced you,” he says with a laugh, mumbling to himself about how Chris is all you talk about.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” You dramatically apologize, halting your search for food to give him your attention.

Hyunjin sighs, taking a minute before he speaks again. “No, it's okay. I shouldn't be complaining. I haven't seen you this happy about someone since the last guy. I'm just really glad you found a good one,” he explains, causing your lips to pout.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, Hyune. I couldn't ask for a better friend,” you tell him, tracing random shapes on your table.

“I better be your best man at the wedding,” he jokes, bringing the mood back up.

You let out a cackle, and you tip your head back. “You'd have to take that up with Chris,” you remind him while shaking your head.

“Oh don't you worry, I'll be sure he knows!” He chuckles. “I have to go. If you see him, tell him I said hi.”

You agree to his request before you bid him goodbye. You hang up the phone and go back to your delivery app. You remember him mentioning that he loves sushi, so that's what you'll order.

After waiting for twenty minutes for the food to arrive, you quickly hop into your vehicle. You gently set the delivery bag onto your passenger seat, buckling up before backing out of your driveway.

During the drive towards Five-Star Auto, you couldn't help but begin to feel nervous. You and Chris have been on four dates since the day Hyuintro “introduced” you. In your perspective, everything's going well. You're just slightly confused as to why he hasn't made things official yet.

You bite your lip, zoning out at the stoplight as you recall him saying he doesn't have time for relationships. Does he even want one? Is that why he hasn't kissed you again? A million questions run through your head, making you panic a little.

“Maybe he's being respectful,” you mumble to yourself, pressing down on the gas as soon as the light turns green.

You pull into the parking lot of the garage, noticing his vehicle being the only one. You park next to him and shut your vehicle off. A deep breath comes from your lips, trying to calm yourself down before heading inside.

“He'd tell me if he doesn't want to see me anymore,” you say to yourself, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You grab the food beside you and exit the vehicle. After locking it, you shove your keys into your hoodie pocket. You peek through the open door of the garage, looking for Chris.

“Are you looking for me?” A voice whispers into your ear, causing you to jump. You almost drop the food, miraculously managing to catch it while turning around.

Chris chuckles, his hands resting behind his back. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you,” he apologizes, bringing a hand to your arm and gently strokes it.

“How are you so quiet?” You ask him in disbelief, pressing your free hand against your chest. “Every time I see you, you're sneaking up on me.”

“I wouldn't say I'm sneaky,” he mentions, leading you into the place. “I think you're just really bad at noticing your surroundings.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Okay, you got me there,” you groan, tapping your fingers against the bag you're holding. “It's your lunch time, right?”

“It is,” Chris beams, his eyes looking down at your full hands. “Did you bring me lunch?”

“I, I bought us lunch,” you clarify, feeling yourself heating up in embarrassment. “That is if you wanna have lunch with me.”

The grin on his lips widens, and you watch him shake his head. Your fingers grip the bag in your hands, thinking he's going to reject the idea. A gasp leaves your lips when you feel his lips kiss your forehead.

“Of course I want to have lunch with you,” he reassures you, grabbing your free hand before walking into his office.

You sit down in front of his desk, pulling the chair closer so you don't make a mess. You can feel his eyes on you as you untie the plastic bag. “I didn't know what you liked exactly, so I took a guess,” you tell him with flushed cheeks.

You pull the trays of sushi out, setting them in the middle of you both. “Oh, I actually love this one,” Chris points to your favorite, making your heart flutter.

He reaches into the bag, grabbing the two packets of chopsticks. He opens both of them as you uncover the sushi you bought. Chris holds out a pair to you with a smile.

“Thank yo–” you cut yourself off when Chris moves the utensils out of reach. Your eyes meet his, noticing the admiration in them.

“I'm really glad you stopped by,” he says softly, gently placing the chopsticks in your hand. “And thank you for the food.”

Your heart starts to pound against your chest, the tension between you two thickening. “Of course. I… You make me really happy,” you mention loud enough for him to hear, directing your gaze to the sushi.

Chris stands up from his chair before taking two steps towards you. His index finger hooks beneath your chin, lifting your head slowly. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans forward.

“You make me happy too,” he whispers, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his fingers.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask quietly, your eyes roaming his entire face. Chris nods his head, crouching a bit so you're eye level. You set down the pair of chopsticks before laying your hand over his. “Are you planning to ask me to be yours?”

His eyes widen at your question, and you notice the tips of his ears start to turn red. “I–” Chris pauses, looking down for a few seconds before returning his gaze to you. “I planned on it, yeah. I was just trying to find the right time.”

“Now is fine,” you giggle shyly, removing his hand from your face so you can play with the tips of his fingers.

“It's not too fast?” He asks, furrowing his brow.

You shake your head, confused as to why he would think that. He laces his fingers with yours before kissing the back of your hand.

“I talked to Hyunjin about your ex. He mentioned that he liked to move fast with you and that it made you uncomfortable. So, I was taking things slow until you were ready,” he explains with a sigh.

Oh, I think I'm in love. You think to yourself, bringing your free hand to his cheek. “You are so sweet,” you whisper, closing the space between you.

Chris releases a breathy moan as your lips collide with his. He hasn't kissed you since the night you met, and the feeling he got then is still the same.

You pull away from him before he can deepen it, earning a whine from him. You smile and tap his cheek lovingly. “So, Christopher, can I be yours?” You ask him, planting a couple more kisses on his lips.

“You already are,” he breathes out, pursing his lips during one of your quick kisses.

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n @turtledove824

[ckret2]

Chapter 28 of human Bill is determined to wiggle out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner, featuring:

Bill eagerly accepts an invitation to Gravity Falls' LGBTQ club. He is not allowed to go unsupervised. Stan (whose masculinity isn't secure enough for this), Ford (who's still hanging out in the closet), and Soos (who's engaged) aren't quite sure what to do. Luckily, Wendy's been looking for an excuse to go.

####

Melody rushed up to the cash register and said breathlessly, "Hey Wendy—I know it's almost your break, but could you stay on register just a little longer? Two of the baby dragons escaped and Soos and I have to find them before the next tour."

Wendy looked at the customers milling about the gift shop. They'd all just gotten out of a tour and were looking over the available souvenirs, which meant in just a few minutes they'd all be lining up to check out. "Ooh, I dunno. I'm pretty hungry..."

"Please, Wendy? You can take an extended lunch!"

Was that worth handling one extra post-tour rush? "Wiiith p—?"

"With pay, you extortionist." There was no real resentment in Melody's voice. She'd worked register duty. She understood.

"Okay, deal."

"Wendy you're a lifesaver." Melody hurried to the curtains to the Mystery Shack museum.

"Hey," Wendy called, "which ones escaped?"

"Orochi and Ryuu."

"Aww, not Oro. That sweet guy will get eaten alive in the real world."

"Right?" Melody turned on her phone flashlight and returned to the hunt.

A deeply tanned tourist with sun-damaged wrinkles approached the cash register. She wasn't holding any souvenirs. Wendy said, "Hey, how can I help you?"

She looked straight in Wendy's eyes and said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Wendy stared at her. Why did this place attract the weirdest customers. "What?"

Very clearly, the tourist repeated, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Um. If that's some kind of reference, I don't get it."

The tourist let out that sharp little nose-sigh soccer moms made when Wendy did things like refuse to take a coupon meant for a rival tourist trap, shook her head in disappointment, and left.

Wendy got the feeling she was going to regret staying on register.

Sure enough, within five minutes, the line started forming—and on top of that, Wendy discovered, the cash register drawer had jammed shut, preventing her from making change for the customers paying in cash. She was in the middle of explaining to the fourth increasingly irate child-toting customer that he either had to pay by card or in exact change, when two more customers came in the door and made a beeline for the register.

"Wendy Corduroy?"

"Hey," Wendy said tersely, stuffing a customer's t-shirts in a bag. "There's a line."

"We're not shopping, Miss Corduroy."

Wendy turned to face Sheriff Blubs, with Deputy Durland standing close behind him. The scratch cards. Her fake ID. She was going to jail. Dad was gonna find out about her tattoo. "Oh."

Durland said, "Could we ask you some questions?"

"Uhh..." She looked at the cops, and then at the growing line of customers. "Can I... grab someone to cover?"

####

Bill had been sitting at the kitchen table looking at the doorway, waiting for Wendy to appear for several minutes, when he heard her muttering, "Shoot, shoot, shoot..." from the living room. Here she came.

"Hey, Cool Girl. What's the hurry?"

"Goldie!" Wendy turned toward the kitchen. "Have you seen Dipper or Mabel? The cops wanna talk to me—"

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

"—and the register is insane and I need someone to cover—"

"They're both out today," Bill said. Mabel was over at Pacifica's alpaca ranch to help out for the day—but Bill had the sinking suspicion she'd asked to go help so she could avoid him. No clue where the other one had gone. "Sorry!"

Wendy groaned. Then looked at Bill. "Hey. Have you ever manned a cash register before?"

"Yes," Bill lied.

####

"Thank you so much," Wendy said, holding open the "Employees Only" door for someone Blubs and Durland didn't recognize: a woman with no makeup, no bra, and unshaven legs, wearing an eyepatch, a hideous Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and yellow foam clogs. Durland looked her up and down, elbowed Blubs, and muttered, "Hey Daryl. D'you think...?"

"Mm." He shrugged noncommittally.

The stranger took Wendy's place behind the register with an eager grin and called out, "Okay, let's keep the line moving!"

Wendy approached Blubs and Durland. "Thanks for that," she said. "So... what can I help you with?"

"Just a few questions about your weekend," Blubs said. "Where were you last Sunday?"

Wendy blinked in surprise. "On... Sunday?" She paused a moment, lips pursed as she thought back to the weekend. "I visited Shop Thrifty with some friends."

Blubs nodded, like this confirmed what he already knew. "And what were you doing there?"

"Shopping? I got some gift money I wanted to spend on cheap junk."

"What'd you get?"

Wendy furrowed her brows, but said, "Uh... some terrible horror movies, a doll that looks like a cross between a turtle and a teddy bear, and a clock made out of a hubcap?"

"So you didn't go near the men's clothing section?"

Wendy squinted. "Nooo?"

Blubs scribbled that down in his notepad. "About what time did you leave the store?"

"I dunno, probably like three or four?"

"Did you go back to the store later?"

"No? I went home and was there all night, you can ask my family," Wendy said. "What happened at Shop Thrifty?"

"A-ha!" Durland pointed over Blubs's shoulder. "How did you know something happened at Shop Thrifty?"

"Because you're cops and you're asking questions about it."

"Oh."

Blubs patted Durland's shoulder. "Keep trying, darlin'. You're becoming a better detective by the day." Durland beamed.

To Wendy, Blubs said, "But as it happens, we're investigating a burglary." He flipped through the pages of his notepad. "I don't suppose you saw any suspicious figures while you were shopping, did you? Perhaps hanging around... the men's section?" He pulled out a crime scene photo to show Wendy.

Wendy had to stare at the photo a moment to make sense of the empty clothing rack; and then she cracked up. "Did somebody steal every pair of pants in the store?"

"Every pair of men's jeans."

"Oh, man. No, I didn't see any pants burglars hanging around—"

Durland said, "We're calling the thief the Bootcut Bootlegger."

Wendy snorted. "But uh... I guess I'll call you if I see anyone lurking in a dark alley selling jeans?"

"We'd appreciate it," Blubs said. "And, could you tell us the names of the friends you went with. So we can ask them if they saw anything too."

Wendy, who was no snitch, said, "No."

Durland shook his head sadly. "Kids these days. They don't know anything about their own friends. Not even their names."

"Nope," Wendy said. "Is that all you needed, officers?"

"I got one more question," Durland said. He leaned a bit closer to Wendy and pointed at the stranger manning the cash register. "Who's that new gal? I didn't know the shack hired somebody."

"Oh, Goldie? We didn't exactly hire anyone, he's just staying at the shack a while—"

"Ha! 'He'! I knew it!" Durland smacked Blubs's shoulder. "I told ya! Didn't I tell ya?"

"Heh. You sure did."

Durland cupped his hands around his mouth. "Whooee, you at the register!"

"Sorry, I can't make exact change, so I'll do you a favor: just round it to—"  Goldie blinked and turned toward the heckling cop. "Yello?"

"You're queerer'n a three-dollar bill, aren't you?" Durland called. Wendy cringed and quickly pulled out her phone to shield herself from the scene of public humiliation.

Totally unperturbed, Goldie replied, "I'm probably the queerest bill you've ever met! Why?"

Soos wearily trudged through the curtains from the Mystery Shack's museum. "Hey, Wendy. We found Ryuu, but we still can't find..." His gaze fell on Goldie and his voice died. "Wendy? What's he doing—"

Durland walked past the line of customers to lean on the counter in front of Goldie. "Hey, how long are you in town? You oughta come to a Rainbow Club meeting!"

"It's the local LGBTQ support and social group," Blubs explained. "We meet weekly at Town Hall. We're actually meeting this evening at seven!"

"We haven't had any new members in ages," Durland said. "Please say you'll come. We're so bored!"

The more they spoke, the more a grin spread across Goldie's face. "Gentlemen, you had me at 'rainbow.' I'd be thrilled to come! My schedule's free! I've been spending all my evenings cooped up in the shack because I don't know anybody in town." He slowly turned his grin toward Soos, who was watching in slack-jawed horror. "But hey, it's not like I'm locked up in here—right, officers?"

####

When the last customers trickled out and Wendy returned to the cash register, Goldie flashed her a quick smile. "Hey, Cool Girl." He nodded toward the Museum. "I saw Questiony tug you aside, are you in trouble?"

"Nah, not really. I guess he's just bothered I grabbed a non-employee to sub instead of getting him or Melody."

"I won't call the labor board if he doesn't." Goldie handed a wad of bills to Wendy. "Here."

"Thanks." Wendy looked around for somewhere to stow it until they could get the cash register drawer unstuck. "Hey, how'd you handle the customers paying in cash?"

"Told 'em I'd give them a discount for the inconvenience: if they were willing to round up to the nearest dollar from the sticker price, we'd eat the rest of the sales tax so they didn't have to fish for loose change. Everyone was thrilled."

Wendy processed that. "Oregon doesn't have a sales tax."

"Sure, but how many out-of-state tourists in a hurry remember that?"

"Ha! You went to work for the wrong twin, Stan would've loved having you in the shack."

"The Pines just don't appreciate what I bring to the table," Goldie lamented, swooping around the counter. He walked up to the "Employees Only" door, stopped, surveyed it like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, and then very casually made a right turn into the curtained entryway to the museum.

A minute later, Soos escorted him back, an arm around his shoulder. "Museum's closed, dude," he said sternly. "We're looking for an escaped baby dragon."

"'Baby dragon'?" Goldie echoed. "You mean a lizard with fake wings glued on its back?"

"I mean—we're not telling the tourists that, but yeah."

He pointed toward the cash register. "Like the one stuck in the cash drawer?"

There was a pause. Wendy dropped to her knees to peer at the crack at the top of the drawer. "Oro! Can you hear me, boy? Are you in there?" She heard something rustle. "Holy—Soos!"

Soos shoved Goldie into the living room and hurried over to help.

####

"Less than five minutes," Ford muttered. "He's unsupervised in a public space for less than five minutes, and he makes contact with local law enforcement and sets up a social engagement. This is why he's not allowed out of—" He pushed up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling.

Ford, Stan, and Soos were seated around the living room table, discussing how to handle the situation. With the sheriff and deputy expecting Bill, they couldn't not let him go, lest the cops come by again to ask what had happened—and the odds that they'd be satisfied by an answer from anyone but "Goldie" were slim.

"This is what he's been waiting for," Ford went on. "He's been biding his time for an opportunity exactly like this."

Soos said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Pines. It happened so fast! I wanted to go all, 'No, you can't go,' but then the cops would have gone, 'Why not?' and I didn't know how to not say he's our prisoner—"

"It's not your fault, Soos," Ford sighed. "It's not even Wendy's. She doesn't know how risky it is just to let him talk to the public."

"So, what do we do now?" Stan asked.

Soos said, "Maybe make him an 'I bite tourists' shirt?"

Ford said, "I suppose... we let him go. And one of us will have to supervise him."

Stan asked, "At the gay club?"

"At the gay club."

Stan, Ford, and Soos—two of whom had grown up in a time when "gay" was one of the worst things a person could be accused of being, and one of whom came from a very Catholic family—eyed each other uncomfortably.

From the doorway, Bill called, "Can I choose? I'm trying to decide who'd be funniest."

Without looking at him, Ford snapped, "Go away, Bill."

"Fine. I'll be upstairs." They listened for Bill's footsteps to recede up the stairs.

Stan spoke first. "Not it. No way. Absolutely not. What would the ladies think!"

Wryly, Ford said, "I doubt any ladies you might meet there would have been interested anyway."

"Well, what would the guys think! What if someone flirts with me, would I have to flirt back to maintain my cover? I'm not that good an actor. It's not gonna be me." He crossed his arms in finality, then looked at Ford expectantly.

Ford hesitated, then shook his head. "Not me." Stan cocked a brow, but when Ford didn't say anything else, he just glanced at Soos.

"Uhh." Soos tapped his fingers together. "I guess I might be kinda sorta willing? I mean, I wouldn't really mind? But, the thing is, I'm engaged, to a woman, and like, Melody would understand if I explain it's just to keep an eye on Bill. But what if people think me 'coming out' right before the wedding is because I'm cheating or—or dissatisfied or something?" His eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe Melody could come too! We could pretend to be bi. It could be like a date! Would that be weird? Two straight people at the queer club on a date pretending to be bi? It—it feels weird." His eyes un-lit up. "I think that's probably weird. It seems disrespectful. Yeah, no, maybe I shouldn't do that—?"

"Are you guys talking about Rainbow Club?"

The trio started and glanced toward the door to the gift shop, where Wendy was leaning in.

Soos said, "Yeeeah, haha, it's kinda awkward, but, Goldie wants to go, but he can't go by himself... so somebody's gotta take him... it's this whole thing..."

"Oh? How come? It's not that far a walk if you cut past the old church."

"Uhh..." Soos looked at Stan and Ford for help.

After enjoying exactly three seconds of awkward silence, Bill called from the doorway, "I'm under a curse that makes it impossible to open doors!"

"Wow dude, sucks for you!"

"Haha, I know right!"

Ford stood, slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at the doorway. "OUT!"

Bill raised his hands, rolled his eye, and left.

"So, hey," Wendy said. "Rainbow Club's for 16-year-olds and up, and I've... kinda been trying to work up the nerve to go for a while, actually. Just to, you know, explore... options?" She shrugged, grimacing self-consciously. "Maybe this is my excuse. So, if you need someone to open doors for Goldie, I could go?"

Stan, Ford, and Soos looked at Wendy with the blank surprise of two men raised in the sixties and one man raised Catholic who sometimes forgot that the categories of "queer people" and "people they knew" might overlap. Then Ford said, "You're not walking there with him."

"I can drive you," Soos said. "I'll just wait outside in the pickup. It's cool, I've got a lot of comics to catch up on."

"I don't know if it's safe letting him walk openly from the truck into Town Hall," Stan said. "Wendy, how do you feel about being handcuffed to him?"

Wendy stared at him. "What."

"That's not necessary," Ford said. "We can use the chain bracelets."

Wendy stared at him. "The what."

"Listen. Kid." Stan stood and put a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "I know we gave you the abridged version of Goldie's history, but lemme make this clear: this freak's on house arrest, and if you're going out with him, you're his ankle bracelet. Do not let him out of your sight. Don't even leave him alone in the restroom if there's a window big enough for him to squeeze through."

"I think his curse covers windows," Soos pointed out. Ford nodded.

"I don't wanna risk it."

"It's okay," Wendy said. "Treat him like a dangerous criminal. Got it. I've got crazy lumberjack ninja training, I can handle him."

Stan eyed her appraisingly, then nodded. "You're all right, kid." He clapped her shoulder and let go. "And if you're into girls, that's fine by me."

"Um," Wendy said. "Thanks? I'm actually not sure if... Thanks, Stan."

"All right. We've got a plan." He waved off Soos and Wendy. "Go have fun with the gays."

####

Wendy sat in the back seat of Soos's truck, staring at her phone, trying to figure out what excuse to give her dad for staying out late. She didn't think he'd mind her going to Rainbow Club—but it wasn't a conversation she was ready to have. Finally, she texted him that she was hanging out tonight with the Mystery Shack crew—which wasn't technically totally wrong—and put her phone away.

Goldie stared out the shotgun seat window as they drove past the sombrero-shaped Los Hermanos Brothers restaurant. "Hey. Can we get nachos?"

"You'll be late to your meeting, dude."

"Can we get nachos after the meeting?"

Wendy piped up, "I'd be cool with a taco run." Easier to tell her dad she'd been having dinner at the shack.

Soos considered that. "I don't see why not." He shrugged. "Gotta get them to-go, though."

"Yeah, fine," Goldie said, a tad irritably. He slouched down, kicking his feet up on the dashboard and crossing his ankles. "I'm not plotting anything nefarious in the restaurant, I just want nachos."

"Then sure, that's cool," Soos said. "Hey. Isn't it kinda... weird for you to eat nachos?"

Goldie turned to face Soos. "Weird how?"

"I mean. You know. Considering you're..."

"Considering I'm what?" Goldie grinned. "What about me would make it weird for me to eat triangular corn chips covered in yellow cheese? C'mon, Questiony. I wanna understand."

Soos glanced toward Wendy in the back seat, and then away. "Never mind," he mumbled. Goldie laughed.

Wendy wondered what on earth Goldie could possibly be that would make it weird for him to get nachos. After a moment of deliberation, she concluded the answer was probably "lactose intolerant." She cleared her throat. "Hey, thanks for giving us a ride, Soos." Even if it probably would've been faster to walk.

"Oh yeah, no problem dude," Soos said. "Hey—aren't you sixteen now? Are you gonna get your own car sometime soon? I don't mind giving you a ride. I'm just curious. Making conversation."

Wendy groaned. "No. I haven't got my license yet, and I don't want to. As soon as I can drive, I'll be useful. Dad's gonna ask me to drive the boys around, and I'll be the friend that gives everyone else rides, right? And being a taxi sounds like crap." She paused, remembering where she was sitting. "No offense, Soos."

"None taken."

"But it's starting to stress me out. My dad keeps asking when I wanna start driver's ed. And I've started having stress nightmares about needing a car in an emergency and not having one? And then Gideon's dad swoops into the dream to offer a Reasonably-Priced Discount Used Car?"

Soos laughed. "Oh man, like all those commercials he's been running on the local stations? 'There's no need to barter—'"

Goldie and Wendy both completed the line, "'—you can drive for a quarter.'"

Wendy groaned louder. "All those annoying Gleeful Auto jingles are seeping into my dreams. How does that even make sense! I don't understand the economy, how do you sell a car for a twenty-five cent down payment and make a profit off of it? What if the customer just doesn't pay the rest?"

Thoughtfully, Soos said, "I think it has to do with interest."

"Well, I'm not interested. Especially when I'm asleep."

"I think Mabel's got a pile of books on controlling your dreams right now," Goldie said. "You could ask her about them."

"Do any of those books teach you how to install dream ad block?"

Goldie laughed. "It can't hurt to check!"

####

"Easy, there," Stan said, watching from his armchair with a can of cider as Ford paced in the entryway, back and forth past the living room. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floorboards."

Ford did not stop pacing. "I should have gone with them," he said. "What does it matter that I didn't want to. Somebody who understands what Bill really is should be in that meeting with him."

"Come on. As long as he doesn't get an opportunity to escape, how much trouble can he really get in? What do you think he's gonna do, kill the sheriff with a folding chair?"

"I'm more worried about his opportunities to network. I don't want him making friends on the outside. That's more people he can manipulate."

"Okay, sure. But how could you stop it if you were there? What would you do, scold him every time he acts nice to somebody?"

A sigh. "I suppose you're right. I just... don't like not knowing what he's doing there."

Stan took a sip from his cider; swirled it a moment; and then cleared his throat. "Hey, Ford, uhh. You know what? Crazy thing, but—I was surprised you didn't volunteer to go to the gay thing? I mean..." He unnecessarily cleared his throat again. "Ever since high school, I always kinda thought you... I mean, I assumed... not in a bad way, mind, but I just sort of figured... Well, I must've assumed wrong. So. Sorry, I guess."

Ford had stopped pacing to look at Stan. He waited for him to finish stumbling through ellipses; and then, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, he said to his feet, "You didn't assume wrong."

Stan waited. "Uh-huh?" he said encouragingly.

Ford shuffled into the living room and took the chair next to Stan. "Truthfully... I can't tell you exactly what I am. When I should have been figuring that out, I was busy writing dissertations and hiding in the woods. Exploring scientific oddities instead of—well—exploring myself. And then thirty years away from Earth, and now that I've only been back among humans for a year... well—I've never figured myself out." He shrugged ruefully. "I can tell you more about eye-bats and gnomes than I could about my own... inclinations. But whatever I am, it's not heterosexual, I know that."

"Huh." Stan nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around the idea that you could just not know. He could maybe imagine a girl not knowing—the inner workings of a woman's body were still pretty mysterious to him—but in his experience most guys had a compass between their legs that was magnetically attracted to point toward what they desired, whether they wanted it to or not. What was going on with Ford?

Looking firmly at the wall, Ford added, "For one thing, I think there's been too many aliens for me to be straight."

Stan snorted. "Aliens."

"Aliens."

"Well okay, Captain Cork—"

"Stanley, please." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Leave it to my brother to even find a way to be queer in a weird way." Stan grinned crookedly. "You know—when we were getting close to graduating, whenever we talked about treasure hunting and getting babes, somewhere in the back of my head, I was making peace with the fact that maybe you'd find a sailor instead. I was fine with it! I just wasn't expecting you to go for the kraken."

"Stan!" Ford laughed in surprise.

"What! Not your type? What does it for you, Dracula? The wolf man? Mothgar?

"I am not telling you what does it for me."

"Okay, okay, fine." Stan probably didn't wanna know, anyway. Aliens. Yeesh. But who was he to judge, he'd gone on a date with a spider lady. "Is that why you don't wanna go to that club meeting? You don't want to talk about the aliens?"

"Not exactly," Ford said. "Attending a support group for queer people would mean opening up about a private, unexplored... scary part of my own identity. With Bill in the room. Maybe I should go to some of those meetings—but not when he's there." His smile from a moment earlier was gone; his mouth was set in a grim line. "When I thought he was my friend, I—offered him far too much vulnerability that I shouldn't have. I'm not letting him have any more."

And a couple minutes ago, Ford had been beating himself up for not putting himself in that position just to keep an eye on Bill. Stan said, "And he's not gonna get more vulnerability outta you. You don't have to tell that freak anything." Rummaging through his brain for the most supportive brotherly words he could find, Stan added, "But—I'm glad you told me."

Ford nodded. "So am I."

####

When Wendy and Goldie walked into Town Hall's main assembly room, Blubs and Durland were standing at the front chatting. Durland immediately waved. "Hey! You made it! You too, Wendy?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, thought I'd check it out."

"The more, the merrier," Blubs said. He gestured for them to follow him to a door at the front of the room, to the left of the podium. "A larger group uses the meeting room, so we meet in the mayor's office."

The door to the mayor's office was clearly marked by the folding table with snacks across the hallway and a stand next to the door holding multiple flags—American, Oregonian, rainbow, trans, and "Take Back the Falls" battle flag. Wendy paused to puzzle over the eleven varieties of bread on the snack table; when she glanced at Goldie, he'd gingerly plucked up the battle flag by a corner to inspect it. There was supposed to be a ban on acknowledging Weirdmageddon, but Wendy supposed the mayor could get away with showing a little pride in his citizens' resistance movement. "Were you still in the shack during... all that?"

"Hm?"

"The big fight." Wendy lowered her voice, just in case the sheriff felt like enforcing the ban. "That's the flag we flew when we kicked the crap out of Bill's stupid pyramid butt."

"Oh. No. I was locked out of the shack," he said flatly. "Must have missed that." He let the flag drop. "I only remember the part where he kicked the shack halfway across the valley with its own leg."

Tyler Cutebiker waved from inside the office. "Wendy, hi! And a new person! Come in, come in! You're just in time. How's your dad?"

Wendy had been expecting that. "He's good, he's good. Y'know, busy."

"Uh-huh?"

"He's been swamped with work since he got the contract for the deathball arena. He's broken like eight axes, so, I think he's really happy."

"Oh, great!" Tyler beamed. "When we were deciding who to give the contract to supply lumber for the new facility, I thought, 'I know just the man to get it!' I'm so glad we could support our local lumber industry." He hesitated. "By the way, do you know if he ever... thinks about coming to a meeting? I've invited him a couple of times, maybe if you brought it up..."

"Listen. Tyler," Wendy said. "You're cool, but if my dad ever shows up at Rainbow Club, I'm never coming again."

"Okay, all right, that's fine, just thought I'd ask."

The mayor's desk had been pushed up against the office windows, and several folding chairs were set up in a tight circle that pressed to the walls. A couple extra chairs were quickly put out for Wendy and Goldie, and Goldie immediately claimed the seat on the mayor's right. All in all, there were less than a dozen attendees, and Wendy guessed she was the youngest one there by at least five years. One empty chair was left open hopefully by the door.

Once everyone was seated, Tyler said, "Okay, it looks like we've got a couple of new folks here today, so let's all go around the circle and introduce ourselves. Please share your names, your pronouns, and anything you want us to know about how you fit under our rainbow umbrella. There's no pressure, just whatever you feel comfortable with, this is a safe and supportive place for everybody. I'll go first: hi, I'm Tyler, and I use he/him pronouns!" He turned expectantly to his left.

Blubs said, "Hi, I'm Daryl, uhhh he/him, and I..." he turned to stare in Durland's eyes, "am in love."

Durland quickly said, "Hi, I'm Edwin, I'm a boy, and I'm in love too!" They grabbed each other's hands, giggling.

"Aww," Tyler cooed, "aren't you two sweet." He nodded toward the next chair.

"Hello. My name is Tad Strange, my pronouns are he/him, and I'm a cisgender heterosexual ally."

Seriously, Tyler said, "And we appreciate your support, Tad. And the snacks you bring every week."

Introductions continued around the circle. Wendy sorta knew a couple other faces, but didn't know anyone personally. The only other girls in the room were an intimidatingly beautiful woman whose gaze seemed to pass right over the awkward teen with unstyled hair and baggy flannel, and two little old ladies in a throuple with a little old man. 

The introduction spotlight finally landed on her. "Hey guys. I'm Wendy, she/her, and I'm, uh... questioning, I guess? Sorta?" She shrugged casually. "Yeah. Questioning."

Tyler said, "Since this is your first time—we keep things pretty casual, here, but I want to make sure this group supports everyone's needs. Do you think you could tell us a bit about what you're looking for in our little club?"

Wendy could feel every eye in the room boring into her. She fought the urge to shrink into her seat. You're sixteen. You're the cool girl. Act cool, girl. "Oh, nothing specific I guess. I'm just... exploring my options, you know. Exploring myself. Doing the self-discovery journey or whatever. So... I dunno what I'm looking for? I figure I'll know it when I find it."

Tyler nodded. "We've all been there," he said. "And I know I speak for us all when I say we're honored to be part of your journey."

And then, to Wendy's mortification, Tyler started clapping, and the rest of the group joined in. She smiled stiffly, feeling her youth even more intensely. What the heck, Tyler, you were supposed to be the cool adult. Wendy trusted you. Politics changed you.

To Wendy's gratitude, Goldie cut the awkward moment short by piping up before the last of the applause petered out. "Hiya! I'm 'Goldie,'" he put air quotes around his own name, "I've never cared what pronouns you people call me before and I'm not about to start now, and I do not have the patience for all the paperwork to figure out my sexuality so we'll just wonder together!"

Tyler laughed. "Oh, you're funny!" A couple other attendees chuckled.

"I'm just getting started!" Goldie blinked his unpatched eye. "Wink. Anyway, I'm here to meet new people and have some fun!" He turned an intense smile on Tyler. "So tell me, mayor—where do the people in your fine town go to party?"

####

By the end of the meeting, Goldie had collected six phone numbers—"I'd give you mine, but I'm between phones right now, long story"—and four loose commitments to do something somewhere sometime soonish. Wendy was simultaneously relieved to have some of the pressure taken off of her as the new person, slightly miffed that she hadn't gotten to know anybody, and resigned to the fact that as the only high schooler in the room they probably wouldn't have had much to say to her anyway.

As the club members milled around the snack table having bread, Goldie elbowed Wendy and muttered, "I can't believe they clapped for you but not for me. Is looking for a good time not a noble enough quest?"

"Pfft. Dude, are you jealous?"

"Insanely."

Thirty years in the ghost dimension must do weird things to someone's need for attention. "When I introduce you to my friends, I'll tell them all to clap for you."

"I appreciate it."

The club loosely migrated through the assembly hall and toward the front double door. Durland reached it first, opened it, and quickly closed it. Agitated, he said, "Daryl! They're out there again."

"Oh, no! Again?"

The group came to a stop. Tyler took over, cracked open the door, and tutted his tongue. Goldie curiously peered over his shoulder, and Wendy took that as permission to look too.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of Town Hall were a dozen tough-looking men dressed in leather, heavy denim, and sharp metal accessories. They filled the sidewalk, arms crossed or fists on hips, glowering toward the doors. Tyler muttered, "Oh, every time we have a meeting. I wish they'd knock this off."

"Who're they?" Wendy asked. "Homophobes?"

"Oh! No no, nothing like that," Tyler said. "That's the weekly ex-convict rehabilitation support group—they use the bigger meeting room. They're actually a very open-minded bunch."

"That's right," shouted the tallest of the group, a muscular bearded man. He pointed at a leather pride patch pinned to his vest over his heart. "Love is love! We support queer rights, trans rights, uh... women's rights? What else."

"Immigrant rights?" a man with a gray ponytail suggested.

"Immigrant rights, that's a good one. And... any other rights, too! Except pig rights."

Another man shouted, "No cops at pride!"

The Rainbow Club turned to look at Blubs and Durland.

They heaved sighs. Durland said, "We'll go out the back."

The group out front visibly relaxed when the Rainbow Club came out without the sheriff and deputy. The bearded leatherman focused on Tyler as he passed. "Ty."

Tyler started. "Oh! Hiii, Ghost." His cheeks went bright red. "W-we missed you at Rainbow Club this week, again. Any thoughts about coming across the hall from time to time?"

"Those cops still showing up?"

"Well, yes."

The leatherman—who Wendy recognized now as Ghost-Eyes—shook his head. "Pass. But we can catch up next time you're at Skull Fracture."

"Oh—okay, sure. I'll see you there sometime."

"I'll buy you a drink," Ghost-Eyes said. "I like your new boots, by the way."

Tyler went red from his hairline down to his shirt collar. "I—well—you too, Ghost!" He quickly trotted off, giggling to himself. Wendy watched him go, then glanced over Ghost-Eyes—tall, broad-shouldered, auburn-haired, bushy-bearded, and as muscular as a bull on steroids—and noted wryly that Tyler had a type.

A high voice from approximately ankle height said, "Oh, hi Wendy!"

She looked down. "Gideon," she said. "Wow! ... Hi."

"Imagine running into you here! I feel like it's been forever! How're your folks doing?"

"Oh, great, great. Uh, yours?"

"We're all fantastic, thanks for askin'. I haven't seen you 'round here before, this your first time attending?"

Ah, great. Of all the people to find out Wendy was trying to sort out her identity. "Yep. Just checking it out. How's... the ex-con support group?"

"Oh it's just wonderful! Highlight of my week, honestly. It's good to talk to people who have gone through the same struggles as you."

"Aww," Ghost-Eyes said. "You're the highlight of our week too, Li'l Gideon."

Gideon started. "Oh, where are my manners! Blathering on like this. Wendy, you remember my friends, right?" He gestured around him.

"Yeah—the Discount Auto Mart Warriors, right? You guys are still hanging out?"

Ghost-Eyes said, "Of course! We have a brotherhood forged in the fires of battle against a chaos god's tyranny. Also, the court requires us to do group therapy, so it's easy to hang out."

Gideon said, "And I'm sure all of you remember Wendy."

The Warriors nodded in recognition. Ghost-Eyes said, "Weren't you the one driving through the weirdness bubbles last year? To get that kid to his sister?"

Wendy looked up at Ghost-Eyes. "Yep. That was me. No hard feelings for the whole trying-to-break-your-arm thing, right?"

"Of course not! You were fighting the man. At that time, we were the man."

Gideon said, "Really a terrible error in judgment on my part, I can't apologize enough."

"Aw, come on," Ghost-Eyes said, "it wasn't all your fault. We were all out there, too."

"No no, I take full responsibility." Gideon reached up to pat Ghost-Eyes's knuckle. "You all trusted me to steer you true and I let you down."

Wendy felt a slight tug on her wrist—and only then realized that Goldie had been a little too quiet, a little too long. She looked in the direction her magic bracelet was tugging, and spotted him waiting just up the street, leaning against Soos's truck, hands pressed to the small of his back.

"It was cool to run into you guys again," Wendy lied, "but I've got friends waiting for me, so..."

"Oh, of course, of course," Gideon said. "Are you working at the Mystery Shack again this summer? Tell Mabel I said hello!"

Wendy flashed Gideon double finger guns. "I will not do that." She power-walked away from Gideon's fan club.

As she caught up with Goldie, she said, "Hey. Sorry for making you wait." She squinted. "You okay?"

Face tinted a deep angry red and wearing the most sour expression Wendy had ever seen, Goldie said, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You don't look okay."

"I don't control what my face does." At Wendy's skeptical look, Goldie pointed toward the Discount Auto Mart Warriors. "I was—thinking over something ridiculous they said. About fighting a chaos god's tyranny."

"Oh, they helped fight Bill—"

"I know that," Goldie cut in. "It just seems... weird to call it that!"

Recovering cultist, Wendy reminded herself. "What would you call it?"

Goldie considered the question. "Fighting a chaos god's anarchy."

She'd been half worried that Goldie was about to start defending Bill. Instead, Wendy tried to puzzle out the specific differences between tyranny and anarchy, and why it mattered to him. "Huh."

"No rules, no laws, freedom from time and physics..."

That was starting to make sense. "I don't know what Weirdmageddon felt like in the mindscape, buuut everyone I knew was still experiencing a lot of physics. When we weren't being turned into statues or imprisoned in tapestries," Wendy said. "Maybe Bill and his minions had no rules and no laws; but when only the guys in charge can do whatever they want, and everyone else is either serving them or, like, getting hunted for sport? I'd call that tyranny."

Goldie's sour look deepened, but there was something thoughtful in his averted gaze now. Like he was searching for a retort he couldn't quite find. "Huh."

Soos rolled down the passenger window. "Hey, are you dudes ready for nachos?"

####

The gossip grapevine moved faster than Soos's truck. By the time he'd dropped off Wendy and brought himself and Bill home, Wendy had texted a quick summary of "Goldie's" anarchy comment to Mabel, who passed it on to Dipper, in case this was a red flag they needed to keep an eye on; and Dipper in turn had passed the info on to Ford.

Ford wondered if Bill really didn't believe he was a tyrant, or if he just didn't want to be seen as one.

When Soos and Bill came in, the first thing Bill did was snatch his hoodie off the coat rack and pull it on, like a snake that regretted shedding its skin and was desperate to slither back inside. Cheerfully, Soos said, "Hey, Dr. Pines!"

"Hello, Soos. Everything went well?"

"Yeah, no problem! We got nachos on the way back, hope that's okay. I left Bill in the truck. Without the keys."

"I almost died of heat stroke," Bill said.

Already headed toward bed, Soos said, "Don't lie, dude. I cracked a window for you."

"Okay, okay. I was fine."

Bill drifted into the kitchen to finish his nachos. Ford drifted after him, leaning in the doorway. Bill had pulled his hood up. He typically only did that when he was in a foul mood, but he'd seemed to be in high enough spirits as he bantered with Soos. Maybe he felt exposed after going into town without his "body" on. (Three decades ago, during the weeks when Ford had been wrestling with Bill for control over his sleep-deprived body, Bill had hidden a vicious little note in Ford's third journal where he mentioned taking off his "exoskeleton" to feed. Ford wondered if Bill saw this hoodie as a substitute exoskeleton.)

"Well?" Ford said. "How was it?"

Bill turned. The false eye on the hood stared blankly through Ford. "Excuse me?" Bill laughed. "Are we on friendly conversation terms now? You want to hear about my day? Or are you just hoping I'll slip up and confess something interesting."

If Bill didn't already know the answer, he wouldn't have bothered asking. "You can't blame me for trying." Wendy hadn't shared much. Ford hoped that if Bill didn't know what the humans had been saying behind his back, he might give away more about what he'd done at Rainbow Club. Talk of tyranny and anarchy was worrying.

Ford could feel the corners of his mouth turning down as Bill's half-seen smile widened. Bill said, "I thought you said you weren't playing games with me anymore." He turned to sit on his chair backwards, legs straddling the seat. "Okay, Stanford! I had a great time! The regulars welcomed the Cool Girl and me with open arms! Fresh air, unfiltered sunshine, an hour of conversation with a roomful of people who don't detest me, a snack table with eleven kinds of bread—"

Ford's grim determination veered sideways off the road. "Wait," he said. "Eleven breads?"

"Yes?"

"Why were— What else did they have? Condiments? Sandwich materials?"

"Forks, napkins, and water bottles. That's it."

"Forks?" Ford echoed. "Forks?"

"Forks."

"Why did they have eleven breads and forks?"

Bill threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "So it's not just me! I looked at that table and thought, 'This seems lopsided,' but who am I, I don't know everything about humans! One grain product or another is just about the most stereotypically human food I can think of, so—"

"No, it wasn't just you, that's—I can confirm that's weird. Why did they do that?"

"I don't know!" Bill laughed. "I don't know, no one else questioned it so I didn't say anything! I wasn't about to out myself as the alien in the room! I just grabbed a Hawaiian roll and made small talk!"

Baffled, Ford ventured, "Maybe it's a... a gay culture thing I haven't heard about?"

"It's not one I've heard of," Bill said, with a tone that suggested if it was a gay thing, he ought to have heard of it. "Hey, the club's token straight guy is in charge of bringing snacks. Maybe he thinks it's a gay culture thing."

"Maybe." It was a somewhat reassuring thought, that perhaps the bizarre spread was somebody's misguided idea of support.

"Glad that mystery's solved," Bill said, as though to him a theory was as good as an explanation. "Oh, speaking of mysteries—thought you'd find this interesting—the mayor's desk is still haunted by bears." He said it as casually as though he were picking up a conversation from a week ago, not thirty-three years ago.

That wasn't a mystery Ford had ever thought he'd get any follow-up on. "Really? Still?" Ford instinctively tugged his journal out of his inner coat pocket and searched for a blank page. "How many?"

"Just two that I saw. I don't know that the third one wasn't roaming the halls, though. I'm not quite the spy I used to be!" He gestured down at his regrettably human body.

Ford waved off the not-exactly-an-apology. "Of course. The limitations of human sight and flesh. Which ones did you see?"

"One male, one female. The smaller female."

"I find it hard to believe the mother moved on without her children. She's probably around Town Hall somewhere."

"If I see her next week, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate that." He started taking notes. "Why would they still be there? I would have thought after the last election..."

"I know, so did I." Bill stood and crossed the room with his nacho tray to peer over Ford's shoulder as he lightly sketched out a desk and a couple of black bears lying atop and in front of it. (Ford hadn't seen the mayor's office in over thirty years, but he'd rough out the shape now and fill in the details once he got a look at the desk again, that was how he always did it. Bill had invisibly watched him fill countless journal pages like this.) "The desk was wider. Nacho?"

"Thanks." Ford absentmindedly took a nacho between his pinkie and sixth finger without putting his pen down, and corrected his sketch at he chewed.

"I've got two theories," Bill said. "One: the bears weren't haunting the desk because ol' Huckabone was using it, but because of something he put in it. A cursed talisman or something!"

"Mm. Mayor Befufftlefumpter didn't tend to mess with forces like that."

"Maybe he didn't know it was cursed. Most people can't see the bears. No one else at Rainbow Club acknowledged them."

"And if there is a talisman of some sort, why don't you already know about it?"

"Just because I can see everything doesn't mean I pay attention to everything," Bill said. "I'll snoop for one if you want! Anyway, theory two: they were here for Huckabone, but they don't know he's passed on, and they'll hang around either until they're reunited with his spirit or somebody dispels them. But I don't like that theory as much," he said thoughtfully, "it's not as satisfying. I prefer the intrigue of a good cursed talisman. Don't you?"

"I doubt that whether it's satisfying is relevant to whether it's likely..." Ford glanced toward Bill and almost jumped out of his skin when a wide white eye stared back at him. That stupid hood again. When had Bill gotten inches from Ford's shoulder? His skin crawled retroactively. "What are you doing?"

"Helping?" Bill ate another nacho and offered the paper tray to Ford again.

Ford stared at Bill, stared at his page full of bear ghost notes, then snapped his journal shut and shoved it in his coat pocket. He was an idiot. Ford stalked off toward the guest room. Remember who you're talking to. There might not have been any bears at all. There might not even have been bread.

Bill called after him, "Maybe you should come next week. I think you'd fit right in."

Ice ran through Ford's veins. What did he mean by that? It took a force of will to keep walking to the guest room rather than turn around and confront Bill again.

He shut the door, closed his eyes, and reminded himself: how Bill's eye had glowed stoplight red when he'd threatened to torture Ford's gniece and gnephew; how Bill had shrieked with laughter when he'd invaded Ford's brother's mind.

Ford had been distracted by talk of ghosts and talismans and, and—and bread. (Bread? Really?) Mysterious and mystical talk made it easy to leave those dark memories sleeping undisturbed.

And that scared Ford. Because he thought, for a normal person, it shouldn't have been possible to forget those things, much less easy.

You'd fit right in with my freaks.

He opened his journal, scratched out half his notes about the bear ghosts, and spent half a page untangling how Bill had lured him into a conversation...

And finally concluded that Bill hadn't done much luring at all. He'd just... talked.

He finished with a "DON'T TRUST HIM!!" and underlined it twice.

####

Well. If Bill and Ford were playing verbal games now, Bill had easily won that one.

He'd peppered in twice that he planned to attend Rainbow Club again next week, and Ford hadn't protested. Ford had even said he'd appreciate it. All that, and Bill hadn't had to reveal that he was busily making friends with the local mayor, sheriff, and deputy, or that he now knew where to find his own wayward one-time "sheriff."

All the same. As much as he appreciated getting a win, he wouldn't have minded going 2 out of 3. Bill had done most of the talking. (One of his most endearing flaws, he thought.) He kinda wondered what Ford thought about the bears haunting the desk. Ford had a tendency to overthink everything in such interesting ways.

Patience. This was the longest conversation he'd had with Ford in decades that hadn't consisted of pure, grim business. He was making progress. Maybe next week he could bring home a haunted bear talisman, see where that got him.

He wondered what Ford had thought of his birthday gift.

####

(Thanks for reading! This is probably the longest chapter we've had so far, but I didn't want to cut off before they even got to the club. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate hearing what y'all think!)

[ginkgo-phyta]

At elementary school I bent down next to an open window, when I stood up I hit my scalp with the "corner" (I don't know the exact word, English is not my first language), hurting myself (even though I didn't tell anyone because I was embarrassed about it). Since then, I pay more attention to edges, always covering them with my hand. So it got me thinking, Spencer Reid x Reader where Reader, during dinner with the team, drops something and crouches down to catch it, when they move their hand to cover the edge of the table (in order not to injure themselves) it touches Spencer's hand (I'm being delusional about that video of a man doing it for his gf while I do it for myself, because I'm lonel an independent woman). Thank you for reading this <33

A/N: ahh i’m so sorry that happened when you were younger! i love this prompt tho, reminds me of all those moments in kdramas ehehe i too would want spencer reid to do this for me *swoons* i hope you enjoy, my love!

Summary: Spencer notices you covering corners of sharp surfaces to stop yourself from getting hurt. One evening, he decides to do it for you.

fluff, gender neutral reader, no warnings(?), 1.8k words

It was normal for Spencer to pick up on others’ behaviors, completely in-line for him to observe his coworkers and mentally note their different habits or time how long it ordinarily takes them to complete a task. Usually, he finished his desk work quicker than his counterparts, granting him plenty of time in between to people-watch. For some reason, however, he observed you the most. At this point it had been five months, one week, three days, fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes since you were introduced to the team, since you were officially a part of the BAU family, and Spencer was acutely aware of your movements for every one of those seconds. 

I’m just being cautious, he’d try to reason with himself whenever he’d catch himself staring a little bit too intently at you, watching your every moment a bit too closely. The other profilers around him, however, knew the true reason. Unbeknownst to Spencer, hushed whispers, knowing looks, quirks of eyebrows, twitches of smiles all passed around him every time he’d observe you. You were none the wiser, simply too engrossed in whatever task lay at hand to be privy to any peering gazes.

There were a few of your quirks that struck Spencer the most: the way you lightly tapped your fingertips against the computer keyboard as you brainstormed what to type next; how you made sure to thoroughly wipe your shoes on entrance mats before stepping into any space- even deceased victims’ homes; your habit of humming random, seemingly made-up tunes as you ate your lunch; and lastly, yet most strikingly, the way you would diligently cover sharp corners with your hands, obviously incredibly wary of them. The way you maneuvered around certain tasks confused Spencer, at first, but he found out the cause of your behavior purely by luck. 

The first time he picked it up was watching you make coffee at the BAU kitchenette three weeks, two days, six hours, and fifty-five minutes into starting the job. Unlike Spencer- who would swing the cabinet open without a care in the world if it hit him in the head, too concerned about simply getting his caffeine fix- you would gingerly open the door at a forearm's distance. He noticed the way you’d wrap your palm over the bottom corner of the cabinet door, holding it that way while putting your coffee together with the other hand. The second time he noticed was five days, ten hours, and seventeen minutes after the first, when the two of you were looking over a crime scene nestled in the unsuspecting suburbs of Los Angeles. You and Spencer were combing over the murder site in the master-bedroom when something caught your eye. You had slowly approached the source of glinting on the baseboard below a window where the unsub was thought to have entered the home. Even though your eyes never left the mysterious material, your gloved hand came up to cushion the corner of the wooden blinds that had been left swung open as you crouched below them. 

Spencer had given this habit of yours much thought over the next week, three days, four hours, and forty-nine minutes until Derek had revealed the wizard behind the curtain. 

“What happened here, sugar?” the broad-shouldered profiler asked you from where he leaned against your desk, hand coming up to quickly and lightly tap your temple.

“Oh, this?” you breathe out, your own fingers replacing where the man’s had just grazed, pressing into the barely-noticeable scar. You chuckled at the memory, “When I was a kid, my head hit the corner of a window’s molding pretty hard…” your voice trails off a bit, zoning out as you massage the miniscule indent.

Derek audibly winces at the mental image, “Must’ve hurt like a bitch, huh?”

You nod in response, “I never told anyone, though. Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.” You shot him a playful grin before turning back to the case file on your desk where Morgan was helping you with a consult. 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Spencer had overheard the whole thing. It all made sense now, the event clearly occurred at an impressionable age, leaving traces of trauma spurring your muscle memory. The young doctor made sure to file that information away in the recesses of his mind. He took a few minutes to think about it first, along with the other habits of yours he’d picked up on. Spencer’s mind began to wander, dreaming of the different possible backstories for each quirk. He wondered what other traits you might exhibit that he had yet to have seen. Was there anything you stopped yourself from doing, anything you were made to feel embarrassed about? He knew how cruel people could be. The prospect of someone humiliating you had him fisting his hands against his thighs, jaw clenching ever-so-slightly. That would be ridiculous, absurd even! All of your whimseys were just that; intriguing, charming, and…endearing. Wait, wait, no! Spencer shook the thought out of his head- that’s not what he meant! He turned back to his own work, deep in thought: Or…was it?

One month, one week, five hours, and twelve minutes after Spencer clued in on the lore behind your little habit, everyone was gathered at Rossi’s house for a team dinner. The eldest agent wanted to properly welcome you into the team, even though it had been quite some time since you started. Five months, one week, three days, fourteen hours and thirty-eight minutes. Everyone sat around David’s long, rectangular dinner table where he stood at the head, wine glass raised. He spoke your name, loud and welcoming. 

“Chiedo scusa, I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to have you here. But, I want to quickly say how grateful we are to have you part of this team. People have come, people have gone, but you will always be part of the BAU family.” With a flourish, he urged everyone else to raise their glasses, “Salute!” 

“Salute!”

“Here, here!”

“Cheers!”

“We love you!”

The mix of happy voices and delicately dinging glasses praising you warmed your cheeks in delight. The job was tough, but having people like these to work beside made everything easier. The flush painted over your ears and tickled the back of your neck when you glimpsed over to Spencer who gazed back at you with fond and tender eyes. 

“Cheers,” he whispered, leaning in just a bit to clink his glass with yours, “We’re lucky to have you here.” 

All you could do was shake your head as you chuckled, sheepishly taking in the way Spencer’s soft oak eyes peered at you over the edge of his water glass. You went to pick your fork up from the table mat, but your hands felt weak and palmy from being so close to the fluffy haired genius, causing the utensil to fumble out of your fingers. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, you were forming a not-so-subtle crush on him. 

“Damn,” you whispered to yourself, craning your neck to see where the fork hard landed on the elegantly patterned rug. Quite a bit away from you under the table, unreachable by stretching foot. With a light groan you pushed out of your chair, settled on the idea of crawling under the table to get the fugitive cutlery. Out of reflex, your hand flew up to hold onto the edge of the dinner table to prevent any possibility of bumping your head against it. Instead of feeling smooth, rigid, temperate wood under your palm, you felt something soft and warm. Immediately, your hand flinched away and you looked up from the floor to see Spencer hands, large and steady, cupping the profile of the table. 

“Oh, sor-” 

Before you could even finish apologizing, his raspy timbre sang out, “Don’t worry, I got it.” 

Your heart swelled with an unplaceable emotion. The flush from earlier returned with greater heat, spreading over every square inch of your body. It took you a moment of just staring at him in shock before his voice pulled you out of your daze. 

“You can go, it’s okay,” his laugh was shy this time, eyes running from your gaze to focus on the conversation your tablemates were having. 

You snapped out of your bewilderment, crouching down and fetching your fork before emerging back into your seat. Spencer kept his hand in the same position the whole time, picking at his own food and laughing with the others who didn’t seem to notice what you were up to. 

“Thank you,” you said, all settled into your chair. Your words returned Spencer’s attention to you, a kind smile growing on his face. 

“It’s no problem,” his hand lingered for a split-second longer than necessary before sliding into his lap. It had been a reflexive action, his subconscious fearing you would hurt yourself, but as the seconds passed he started doubting himself. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know it’s happened before.” The unexpected confession caused Spencer to look away from you, fearing he’d made you uncomfortable. With a light cough, he brought his napkin up to his face to feign wiping his mouth when in actuality he was attempting to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“How’d you know?” You were surprised, but Spencer was relieved to hear no hint of distaste in your voice.

“I, um…” Another small cough pierced his train of thought, “I heard you telling Morgan a while back.” His chip dipped down a bit as he gulped down his worries.

“Wha-” Surprised, yet again, you couldn’t find the right words, your eyes searching for them in the intricate motif etched around the china plate staring up at you. “But that was so long ago…” your hands lay unmoving on the table, fingers picking at the corners of the place mat.

“One month, one week, five hours, and twenty minutes ago.” Spencer mumbled, gently yet matter-of-factly, picking at the pasta slumped before him.

Your eyes whipped up to look at him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. Moments pass by as you take him in, absolutely floored at his memory. You’d seen him quote passing time before, that wasn’t shocking at this point, but the fact that he retained something so trivial about you left you dumbfounded. He sat there, chewing on the smallest pieces of pasta you’d ever see a person put in their mouth, acting as if his actions were embarrassing instead of…heart-warming.

“And you remembered?” Your voice was quiet, unbelieving and cheerful. It beckoned Spencer to you like minnow reels in trout. 

He peeled his eyes up from his meal to look at you; your face, benevolent and compassionate; your smile, small yet loving; your eyebrows pulled up by a slivered string of affection. The hand resting unsurely in his lap moves up to gently grasp his water class, his pinky grazing against yours. He left it there, your own inching over indiscernibly to gain just a fraction of a bit more comfort. 

Spencer smiled at you, balmy and adoring, his words widening the grin on your face.

“Of course I did.” 

A/N: okay okay OKAYYY ANONN how was this?? ugh i loved this prompt sm i wish i had spencer reid to look out for me…even tho i, too, am a lonely i mean independent woman

does this count as a belated valentine's day fic? teehee

[kingkatsuki]

— when he catches you crying

Masterlist.

Warnings: none (although not proofread soz.)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.8k.

There were some days where being Dynamight’s secretary weren’t always perfect. Thousands of people online wished they could be where you are right now, a position that had you working closely with the number two hero, and of course you were thankful. But some days you just wished time would speed up and you could go home and climb into bed. Daydreaming about having some sort of time-changing quirk so you wouldn’t have to put up with those terrible work days, and instead speed through them.

Being the number two hero meant that he was constantly in demand. Whether it was companies trying to get ahold of him for collaborations, agencies hoping to get Dynamight to team up on missions, brand ambassadors trying to send him a slew of freebies from clothing to charcuterie boards or the media hoping to get the first scoop the phone was constantly ringing off the hook.

Luckily for you most of these calls were intercepted lower down, the Dynamight PR team were always quick to filter out the quality calls and give courteous, personalised responses each time. But that didn’t mean the ones that finally managed to reach your floor, his floor, were any kinder. Having a timed appointment call with the Pro didn’t actually mean you’d manage to get him on the line, as most people in the industry had now leaned Dynamight worked on his schedule, no one else’s. And most of the time callers were sympathetic to you, but not always.

You’d had to apologise to a brand for Dynamight being unavailable at the appointed time, a last minute meeting with Pro-Hero Hawks meant that he was now stuck inside his office for the foreseeable. Something that you knew irked Bakugou to no end, knowing he’d probably rather take this mundane call than spend more than five minutes alone with the feathered hero. But work was work, and while he was being supposedly tortured inside, you were now subject to a slew of insults on the phone with the head of the company.

Usually you’d just hang up at this point, the insults you faced not worth whatever price they were willing to pay for Dynamight’s face on their posters. But you were already having a bad day, and the words came hard and fast. No matter how polite you tried to be, they cut deep. Feeling your throat begin to tighten as pearly tears clung to your lash line, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You slammed the phone down in irritation as you pushed the chair back from your desk, leaving without another thought as you went to compose yourself in the bathroom.

It wasn’t long after that Bakugou stepped out of his office, noticing the disappointed look on Hawks face when he’d moved directly towards your desk to bid you a farewell (and probably flirt with you for the next fifteen minutes, Bakugou supposed), and noticed you were no longer there.

The phone sat ringing unanswered and you always told him when you were going on lunch or leaving the floor, even if it was just a sweet little email. Rolling his eyes at Hawks teasing when he noticed Bakugou’s expression diminish slightly too as he stepped into the elevator.

“That’s a shame, I was hoping to take her to lunch after our little meeting,” Hawks grinned, “Tell her I said goodbye, yeah?”

Fucking prick. Bakugou seethed as he went towards the end of the hall to ask one of your co-workers where you’d gone, hearing that you’d had a pretty shitty phone call and you’d made your way to the women’s bathrooms on the floor below.

Ignoring his schedule, he made his way towards the stairs. Retracing your footsteps as he found the door to the ladies restrooms and ignored the writing on the front as he shoved it open to step inside. Thankful that it seemed to be empty, aside from the muffled sobs coming from one of the stalls. A sound that seemingly quietened as the door opened, clearly trying to hide yourself away from anyone listening to you.

“Hey,” Bakugou knocked on the door lightly as he leaned against the door, his signature boots visible to you beneath as your eyes widened in surprise that your boss had found you like this, in the women’s bathroom no less.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” You sniffled, dabbing the paper tissue against your wet cheeks, “It’s the womens—”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know.” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, the sound had fresh tears welling in your eyes as you thought you’d upset him even more by leaving your desk unmanned.

“I’ll be back up in a sec, I’m sorry for leaving the phone ringing I’ll—” Your throat was hoarse as you rambled your apologies to him, the guilt swirling in your abdomen as you tried to blink back the pearly wet tears.

“Stop it, that ain’t why I’m here.” He scoffed, “Just open the door.”

“I’ll just be a few minutes, I’ll see you back in the office.” You were certain you probably looked awful. Your mascara was definitely lined down your cheeks if the darkened tissue was anything to go by, and your eyes were surely red.

“Open the door, sweetheart.” He continued, “I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” You mumbled.

“Don’t lie to me,” He whispered, “I wanna know what’s got my secretary sobbin’ in the toilet before midday.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.” You didn’t even know how to tell him that a random stranger on the phone made you cry, especially when you should’ve been thicker skinned working below the number two.

“I could get forty grievances against me for this, you know. Dynamight in the fuckin’ ladies.” Bakugou smiled slightly as you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh on the other side, “So I think you can tell me what’s wrong.”

You were silent inside the stall as Bakugou lay the side of his head against the door, trying to listen to you as he tried one final time to get you to come out.

“Was it me?” He mumbled, and you felt your stomach drop that he could even think it was something he’d done.

“No!” You retorted swiftly.

“So what was it?” He continued.

You weren’t even sure what to tell him, you’d cried over a stupid clothing brand, or whatever it was he was trying to sell. You should be stronger as Dynamight’s secretary, have thicker skin, not cry over any random stranger that’s mean to you on the phone.

“Come on, sweetheart. Please?” He murmured gruffly, “I know people think I’m a fuckin’ asshole but I ain’t about to leave without checkin’ on you. Let me see that you’re alright and I’ll leave you alone, yeah?”

You hated the way your body reacted to him, even like this he had your heart pounding against your ribcage as you sniffled, wiping your cheeks a final time as you moved to open the door.

Bakugou was leaning against the doorframe casually as worried crimson eyes looked down at you, his brows were still furrowed deeply as though he was irritated at you and this made fresh tears well in your eyes as you tried to look to the ground.

“‘m sorry.” Your bottom lip trembled as you felt the hot tears begin to stream down your face again, but what happened next shocked you even more.

“C’mere, shitty woman.” Bakugou’s forearm reached up to circle around your neck, bringing your entire frame against his as he pressed your face into his chest. The comforting touch had your tears freely flowing as you soaked the soft, probably expensive, fabric of his shirt. But he didn’t seem to care, his other hand still buried inside his pants pocket as he held you steady against him, eventually resting his chin on the top of your head as he let you cry.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He hummed, “Let it all out.”

Bakugou knew what it was like to cry alone, the isolation and the ache it caused as his chest heaved and throat tightened. The sheer number of times he’d wished someone was there for him, to pat his back and tell him it would be okay, and seeing the woman he was so desperately in love with the same way, hurt.

And you let yourself cry, the tears immediately soaking into him as the damp material of his shirt stuck to your cheeks, the scent of him comforting as you sniffed to try and inhale every part of it. Letting yourself melt into him as he swayed slightly while you cried into his chest in the bathroom.

Once the tears stopped falling you pulled back with bleary eyes, your head throbbing slightly from the length of time you’d been crying as he gave you a lazy, close lipped smile.

“There she is,” He murmured, resisting the urge to reach up with calloused thumbs and wipe the final few tears away, “Can’t believe you got me in the girls bathroom.”

You felt guilty at that, knowing that he was supposed to be taking a phonecall from Pro-Hero Deku right now before he went into his afternoon patrol.

“Take the rest of the day,” He cut you off before you’d even had a moment to utter your first objection, your mouth still agape as you readied to speak, “I ain’t taking no for an answer, grab your shit and get out.”

He sounded harsh, but you could hear the softness to his voice as he stepped away from you, grimacing when you noticed your makeup staining his shirt as he moved to leave the bathrooms.

“And you get me personally if that fucker ever calls back again, yeah?”

What he’d really wanted to say was, he’d take every single grievance he got for this just to make sure that you were okay, because you were more important than any of that.

“Thanks, Dynamight.” You mumbled, watching him leave the ladies restroom as you stepped towards the sinks to clean your face. Grimacing when you caught sight of just how awful you looked when you met your reflection in the mirror.

What you didn’t know was that same afternoon, Bakugou got a call from the same company that had berated you and made you cry. Leaning back in his chair as he listened to the man ramble on the phone about how excited they’d be to work with a Hero such as Dynamight, and the plans they had in mind. But Bakugou told them he’d never work for them, and he would ensure every hero in the top twenty would do the same. Because no amount of money was worth it after he’d seen you cry.

[morgana-larkin]

Hi can you write a Melissa x reader with enemies to lovers, a true slow burn, and the reader only calls her ‘Schemmenti’ until the turning point where the reader finally calls her ‘Mel’? Thank you!

Hola! Here ya go! I have to say that it was fun, and I did not do an evil laugh at some point while writing this… 😏. Anyway, like I said previously, hope you’ll enjoy my period driven fics for the next week cause this one gots the smut too. (I regret nothing… I might in a week *shrugs*). Anyway, not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I made a masterlist and I’m quite proud of it *does self five*. But then 5 minutes later the wifi craps out so I’ll be adding this one to it when it decides to work again as I need my laptop to do it. And if you want to be added to my taglist then let me know peeps!

Fine Line

Warnings: smut, I think there’s swearing but I’m too lazy to check

Words: 4.3k

You come storming in the break room and slam the door open, then proceed to stomp to the fridge. Melissa trails your movements and sees that you’re in a pissy mood this morning.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Melissa teases you.

You throw your lunch in the fridge and slam the door shut then go to the coffee machine.

“I don’t have the patience for you right now Schemmenti.” You snap at her. You pour the coffee in your mug.

“Are you alright dear?” Barb asks you and you sigh.

“Just a rough morning.” You tell her gently.

Melissa has always seen how both of you treat each other differently. You both have a short fuse and didn’t like each other from the start. You accidentally pissed her off one too many times during the week and you got mad and started arguing back at her. Now it’s a year later and it hasn’t changed.

Melissa eyes you and you catch it and glare at her before walking out of the break room and Melissa smiles. If Melissa was being completely honest, she doesn’t mind the little rivalry. She has fun with you and enjoys how hot you look when you’re mad at her.

You on the other hand want Melissa to just avoid you, you have no idea why she enjoys torturing you and you want her to leave you alone instead.

Melissa stops by your classroom on her way to the break room at lunch. “Have you simmered down at all?” She jokes to you and you roll your eyes.

“I have and then I see you and it goes right back up.” You retort back and Melissa smirks. “What are you doing here Schemmenti?”

“I work here.” She tells you and you huff in annoyance and glare at her.

“You know what I meant.” You snap a bit at her.

“I came to see you.” She tells you and you sigh. She likes to come see you before she goes on lunch everyday and quite frankly, today, you don’t have the patience for her. So you stand up and walk towards the door. Melissa sees you walking over and she unconsciously licks her lips.

“I already told you that I don’t have the patience today for you Schemmenti.” You tell her, then slam the door in her face and lock it. Melissa huffs then defeated, she walks to the break room. Melissa likes talking to you, she just doesn’t know how to without making you annoyed at her. She already admitted to herself that she has a crush on you and she wants you to see her as more than a rival and more than a friend too.

“How do I talk to y/n without her getting mad at me?” Melissa asks Barb in the break room and Barb is stunned by the question. She thought that you and Melissa were gonna wanna keep this rivalry forever.

“Why?” Barb asks.

“Because I want to try and be friends with her instead of enemies.” Melissa says and leans back and crosses her arms.

“Well you could start with not insulting and teasing her.” Barb starts.

“Everytime I try it seems like I just annoy her. Like she thinks I’m joking or playing with her mind.” Melissa says.

“Well you did get mad at her everyday for her first 2 weeks.” Barb reminds her. “Maybe start with an apology.” Melissa sighs, it’s worth a try and she stands up, grabs her lunchbox and yours from the fridge, then walks to your classroom.

When she gets to your door, she stands in front of it for a moment then knocks. You answer it a few seconds later, when you see Melissa there you go to close it again but she stops it with her foot. “I brought your lunch for you.” She tells you and holds up your lunchbox. You open the door and stare at her confused.

“Why?” You ask.

“Because it’s lunchtime and you should eat.” She simply tells you.

“Did you do something to it?” You ask and Melissa huffs.

“No, because I’m not 12.” She tells you and hands you your lunchbox. You take it and just stare at her confused. Melissa then walks to her classroom and continues to eat her lunch while grading some tests.

There’s a knock at her door and she gives a ‘come in’. She finishes grading the question and finally looks up and sees you standing there, looking at her curiously. “Yes?” She asks and you sigh.

“Why were you being nice to me?” You ask her and she drops her pen on her desk and lifts her glasses up to the top of her head.

“I just brought you your lunch, that’s all.” She tells you.

“But why?”

“Because you’re having a rough morning and you’d have an even worse day if you didn’t eat.” She tells you.

“And that’s all?” You ask her.

“Ya.” She says and you turn to leave but glance back at her.

“Thank you.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“You’re welcome hon.” She tells you and you close her door and leave to your classroom.

Melissa smiles after you leave. That’s the first normal conversation she’s had with you and you even thanked her. She thinks maybe now you won’t take everything she says the wrong way. When she thinks back on that thought, she thinks that it’s nice to have dreams.

You walk into the break room the next day in a better mood than yesterday and Melissa looks up and smiles at you.

“Morning.” She tells you and you look at her confused.

“What do you want Schemmenti?” You ask her and she sighs.

“Nothing, just saying morning to you.” She tells you and you eye her suspiciously but then continue with what you were doing.

After you leave the break room, Melissa sighs. “Everytime.” Melissa mutters.

“Wow, she really does take everything you say the wrong way.” Barb says beside her and she turns and glares at Barb.

“Really? I didn’t notice.” Melissa says sarcastically but Barb just smiles.

“Just because you brought her lunch one time doesn’t mean that reverses a year of rivalry.” Barb tells her and Melissa sighs then gets an idea and smiles. “What did you just think of?” Barb asks cautiously.

“That maybe I could bring her lunch more often, as in something that I made. No one says no to anything I make.” She says proudly and Barb looks at her sceptically. Barb then prays that this doesn’t end badly.

The next day, Melissa brings an extra lunch for you. You stay in your classroom during lunch again. You end up staying in your classroom during lunch quite often, mostly to avoid Melissa. You start to think you should pack food that doesn’t need to be refrigerated and keep your lunchbox with you in your classroom. You’re grading one of your students' homework when there’s a knock on your door. “Come in.” You say and finish what you’re writing then look up. Melissa is there with a smile on her face.

“Hi.” She says

“I was starting to think you forgot about me, bummer.” You tell her and her smile doesn’t falter. “What are you doing her Schemmenti?” You ask and she walks up to you.

“I brought you lunch.” She says and you look and don’t see your lunchbox.

“Then why isn’t my lunchbox with you?” You ask her.

“Because I didn’t bring your lunch to you. I brought something I made for you.” She tells you and you look at her surprised.

“What?” You deadpan.

“I made food last night, and brought some leftovers for you.” She says.

“Why?”

“Because I did.” She says and sets the food on your desk.

“I don’t want it.” You tell her.

“No one ever says no to anything I make.” She tells you.

“Well I’m saying no to you now.” You tell her.

“That’s because you haven’t tried it yet.” She tells you and crosses her arms.

“If I try it and still say I don’t want it then will you go away?” You ask and she nods. Reluctantly you sigh and take a bite. You go tell her to now leave then it hits your tastebuds and you freeze. It was good, like really good, the best food you’ve tasted. And now you reluctantly tell her no to the food and tell her to leave. “There, I tasted it and I’m still telling you to leave.” You say and she looks at you unconvinced.

“I saw you hesitate, you love it.” She tells you and you know you’ll have to admit you do like it but don’t want it here.

“Ok it was probably the best thing I ever tasted but I don’t want it or you here.” You tell her and she looks offended.

“Why?” She asks.

“Because in case it escaped you, I don’t like you and you don’t like me. We’ve been enemies since I got here since I was an easy target for you. So now, please leave.” You tell her and she looks defeated but takes her food and leaves.

You think she’d give up but she doesn’t, she’s very stubborn, but so are you. She brings you lunch for a week before you finally blow up at her.

“Brought you lunch again hon. Maybe you’ll actually have it today.” She tells you and you sigh and rub a hand on your temple. She walks in and your anger that’s been building all week finally lets go.

“MELISSA WILL YOU PLEASE STOP!” You say and she freezes. “I don’t want anything you make! What I do want is for you to leave me alone. Forever!” You say and she actually looks upset which catches you off guard but still stick to what you want. “I don’t want you to talk to me or to bring me food ever again. We’re co workers, nothing more.” You tell her and she lets out a huff then snatches her food.

“Fine.” She snips and starts walking out of your classroom. “Try to be nice and this is what I get.” She mutters. You hear it and you’re confused. She was trying to be nice? Wtf?

A month goes by and to your surprise, Melissa does leave you alone. She doesn’t even look your way anymore. She pretends you don’t exist and for the first week you actually like it. Then the second week hits and it turns out you miss the rivalry you had with the redhead. You keep glancing at her throughout the week and she keeps feeling like she’s being watched and looks up and you look away quickly. If Melissa ever catches you staring at her then she doesn’t comment on it.

After a month, you go to talk to her. You both have a prep second period so you go and knock on her door. “Come in.” You hear and you enter.

She glances up to see who it is and she does a double take. “What do you want?” She says with a bit of anger and sadness lacing it.

You close the door then turn around and face her. You don’t seem annoyed, she thinks, more frustrated about something.

“Did you mean what you said a month ago?” You ask and she quirks an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to be more specific. I said a lot of things a month ago.” She says and you walk over and sit on one of the students desks.

“That you were trying to be nice.” You say and she looks stunned.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” She says.

“So it was true? You were trying to be nice?” You ask and she rubs her temple and nods.

“But why? You have been nothing but mean to me since I got here.” You state.

“I know.” She says. “At first it seemed like you just did everything wrong to make me mad but then I realised you didn’t know what you were doing and I was gonna stop but I found it a bit amusing to see your annoyed reactions. Then I wanted to stop fully 6 months later but you keep taking everything I say wrong. And I can’t say I blame you.” She says and you look at her stunned.

“What exactly are you saying Schemmenti?” You say and she quirks an eyebrow.

“You know last time you spoke to me, you called me Melissa.” She says and you look at her confused.

“I did?”

“You were telling me to get the fuck out and leave you alone but ya, you called me Melissa.” She says and you roll your eyes.

“Obviously an accident.” You tell her and she rolls her eyes at you.

“Well I don’t know about you but I want to put the whole rivalry to an end and maybe actually get to know each other.” She tells you and you look at her stunned.

“You do?” You ask and she nods. “You mean you don’t want to annoy each other again?” You ask and she quirks an eyebrow again at you.

“Obviously we still will but more friendly this time. That’s if you want to possibly become friends.” She says cautiously and you smile.

“I think that could happen.” You tell her and you get off the desk. “Well I gotta get back and finish some grading or my students might revolt as I’m apparently taking too long to grade the tests, like I got nothing else to do.” You say dramatically and she giggles.

“Hey y/n.” She says and you look at her. “I’m sorry for how I treated you when you got here.” She tells you genuinely and you smile.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry for how I treated you too.” You tell her.

“It’s alright, I would have reacted the same if I had someone being mad at me everyday.” She jokes and you laugh. You go to leave then glance back at her when you reach the doorway.

“See you around Melissa.” You tell her and she freezes and looks at you stunned. You smile at her and she smiles back at you.

“See ya around y/n.” She tells you. You nod, tap the doorway once and then leave. And for the first time in a month, Melissa feels hope with you.

A week goes by and you and Melissa stay true to your word. Everytime you enter the break room, she says good morning to you and you say it back to her. Barb looked at you guys suspiciously for a second, thinking she heard you both wrong. But after glancing at the trio, she realised she heard you both correctly, if the trio’s shocked expressions are anything to go by.

You come in at lunch everyday and you mostly go to the table and couch and do some work there while you eat. On Monday of the third week of you two getting along, she brought you a coffee while you did your work during lunch. You look up and smile and thank her.

“Whatcha working on hon?” She asks you and glances at your paper.

“Descriptions of their hero.” You tell her and you hand her the one you were grading.

“This is cute.” She says and hands it back to you.

“Ya, most of them chose their parents or a celebrity. But I got concerned when I read this one.” You tell her and hand her one of them. She reads it then laughs after a minute.

“I think this little one is on the right path to be a little Wednesday Addams.” She tells you and you laugh.

“Maybe that’s their goal.” You joke with her. And neither of you notice but everyone is looking at you two shocked.

When it comes to a month of you two actually being nice to each other, you realise you have feelings for her and you get annoyed at yourself. You just became friendly with her and now feelings had to get involved. The thing you have to realise is, is that there is a fine line between love and hate.

You start to ignore her a little bit, in the hopes of your feelings going away. They don’t though. And to make it worse, Melissa notices the change in how you treat her. She comes in your classroom during both your prep, without knocking , after a week of you ignoring her a bit.

“What’s going on with you?” She questions right away.

“Well hello to you too.” You joke.

“Hi.” She says and then sighs. “Now what is going on with you?” She repeats.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“What do I mean.” She says with a chuckle and huffs. “I mean, why do you sometimes ignore me?” She asks and you sigh.

“I’m not.” You say and honestly, you don’t even believe yourself. Melissa crosses her arms and that unintentionally lifts her chest up a bit and you stare at her chest. She catches on to you staring and looks down to what you’re looking at. She looks back up, confused, until she puts the pieces together and she smirks.

“Why are you staring at my chest?” She asks and you snap out of your trance.

“What?” You ask and she walks towards you until she’s right in front of you.

“I said, why are you staring at my chest?” She repeats and you gulp.

“I- I wasn’t.” You say and she leans down and puts her hands on the arms of your chair, effectively giving you a view of right down her shirt. And you try to not stare at it, but the view of it is just too good not to stare.

“Do you like me y/n?” She asks you and you look up at her eyes. You see the curiosity and hope in them.

“I do ya.” You tell her and look down at your lap. She puts a finger under your chin and forces you to look back up.

“I like ya too hon.” She tells you and your jaw drops. She smiles warmly at you then closes your mouth with the finger still under your chin. Then she leans in and kisses you and your brain shuts down. She pulls back after a second and sees your reaction and laughs. “Did I make you short circuit?” She teases you and you stare. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She tells you and you snap of your very deep trance.

“What?” You ask and she giggles.

“I made you short circuit didn’t I?” She repeats and you nod embarrassed. “No need to be embarrassed, it actually makes me happy I have that kind of effect on someone.” She tells you.

“Mel, you’re stunning, of course you have that kind of effect.” You tell her dramatically.

“Oh I’m stunning am I?” She asks you and you nod. “And you called me Mel.” She says and your eyes widen.

“Sorry Melissa.” You tell her.

“No, go back to Mel. I like it.” She tells you and you blush. You still have the view of down her shirt and you rub your thighs together. She notices and she smirks. She then casually sits on your lap with her legs on the sides of the chair and kisses you. You kiss her back this time and she smiles in the kiss. She makes out with you for about 5 minutes then you buck your hips and she pulls back and stands up and you whine. “Patience you. How about you come back to my place after?” She says and you nod with a smile. “Perfect now, hand me your phone.” She says and holds her hand out. You give her a confused look and she smiles. “So I can give you my number.” She tells you and you scramble to get your phone out and then give it to her. She giggles as she takes it then puts her number in and texts herself. “Great, now we have each other’s numbers. See ya tonight.” She tells you with a wink then hands you your phone back then turns and leaves.

She gets a text from you not 5 minutes later.

You: was your plan for me to not be able to concentrate the rest of the day?

Mel: Possibly

Mel: Did it work?

You: Possibly

Mel: see you tonight right after school.

Mel: *sends address*

You: can’t wait

Mel: don’t touch yourself! I know I left ya hot and bothered

You: Ffs

Melissa smiles at that then you both continue out the day. Of course she can’t resist teasing you. Like sending you winks whenever she sees you, touching your thigh when she comes to join you on the couch during lunch, pressing you up against the wall during… oh wait, that last one was in your daydream.

When you get to her place though, that daydream comes true. As soon as you walk in through the door, she closes it, slams you against it and kisses you roughly. She then trails down to your neck and immediately sucks it. You think she’s trying to be quick about this with the pace and intensity she’s doing it at.

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of doing this with you.” She says between kisses on your neck.

“How long?” You ask curiously and out of breath.

“About 6 months.” She says and you gasp, from shock of her answer and pleasure of her sucking your neck again. She then pulls your top off and inclips your bra then taking that off of you. She stares at you with a smile then cups your breasts and leans in to you. “6 months I’ve held off wanting to kiss you.” She says and starts moving her hands in a circle, causing your breasts to move a bit and your nipples get played with at the same time. “Now that I have you, I’m not holding back. Especially since you were ignoring me for a week.” She tells you and you groan.

“It’s because I realised my feelings for you, and we just started to be friends and I thought if I ignored you, my feelings would go away. But they didn’t.” You tell her and she smirks.

“I don’t care for the reason Bella. Just know that you’ll get properly punished.” She tells you with a low pitched voice and you shiver. While you were distracted, she pulls down your pants and underwear at the same time, you step out of them and she spreads your legs. You finally clue in to what she’s about to do. “Mel, shouldn’t we go to your be-.” And what you were about to say was cut off with a gasp from you as she goes and sucks your clit hard, right away. You get close to an orgasm and you hold on to her head and lean against the wall so you don’t fall down. but once you come, you collapse. Luckily she catches you as she knew you’d fall. She then picks you up and carries you to her bedroom and places you on the bed with a pillow under your head. You’re still blissed from your orgasm that you don’t realise that she’s out of view until she comes back. You look and your brain shuts down again. She comes back completely naked and wearing a strap.

She crawls on the bed and kisses your lips, you taste yourself on her and you moan. While kissing you, she grabs the strap and gently slides it in through your entrance and you squeak into the kiss. She gives you a second to adjust then she goes and moves in and out of you quickly and hard. You start gasping and moaning and she does check in with you. “Is this ok?” She asks and you nod.

“Yes, ple-please d-don’t stop!” You tell her and she smiles. She puts one of your nipples in her mouth and you come again 20 seconds later. She doesn’t stop though and you’re over sensitive as you already came twice.

“I still have to come baby.” She tells you and you whine. You end up coming again and then she comes right after. She stops immediately and leans her head on your shoulder and catches her breath. Then she pulls out of you gently and flops over beside you on her back. She takes the strap off and grabs the Kleenex on her nightstand. She cleans both of you then spoons you. You shift so that you’re on your side so you can spoon properly. She leans up a bit and kisses your forehead then lays back down and pulls you in closer to her.

“I really enjoyed that.” You tell her and she giggles.

“Good, I’m glad.” She says and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Didn’t know you’d be so intense.” You tell her and she laughs.

“Well I guess a week of being ignored would do that.” She says and you laugh. You turn around in her arms so that you’re face to face and she smiles at you. “Hi beautiful.” She tells you.

You smile back at her. “Hi Mel.” You say. “This wasn’t a one time thing right?” You ask cautiously.

“Of course not. I want to do it again. For as long as you’ll have me.” She tells you and you smile.

“Well I guess unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me.” You tell her teasingly.

“Oh, I’m so unlucky that I have to wake up to this beautiful face every morning.” She says and boops your nose and you giggle. You then nuzzle into her neck and fall asleep. She wraps an arm protectively around you and falls asleep as well.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @imaginesmultifandoms @idonothingalldays-blog @sexysapphicshopowner @dvrkhcld @lilfartbox1

Let me know if you want to be added!

[w2soneshots]

My boy -Angry ginge

words: 0.6k+

warnings: none.

summary: you and Ginge spend a fluffy day together as boyfriend and girlfriend, along with him being absolutely whipped.

notes: hello loves! I’ve had so many people ask for more angry ginge fics so here you go🫶🏼. I hope you enjoy!!🙂💓 (also send in requests because I’ve just written them all!)

"Morning beautiful." Morgan whispered as my eyes fluttered open. I smiled. "Good morning." My voice was croaky as I had just woken up. "How'd you sleep?" He asked, playing with my hair as he stared into my eyes. I sighed contently. "Like a baby." He smiled, pulling me into him so that my head was buried into his chest. I wrapped my arms around him. "We should really get up." He spoke quietly into my ear. "Mhm- five more minutes." I sleepily groaned. He chuckled.

Ten minutes later we got up. "I'm gonna take a shower. Care to join me?" I turned to him. He smirked. I walked towards the bathroom and he followed swiftly behind. I got undressed out of my pyjamas and he did the same. Now both completely naked we got into the shower. I turned around to grab the body wash and sponge. I poured some of the coconut scented soap onto the sponge then proceeded to glide it across my body. "Here let me do that." He smiled at me. It wasn't sexual at all just a boyfriend taking care of his girlfriend.

Once we were finished I wrapped myself in a towel and he did the same, tying it around his hips. "What do you wanna do today?" He asked as I plopped back down on the bed. He sat next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. "Um- that new restaurant just opened down the road, fancy going there for lunch?" I turned my head up to look at him. "Yeah! Let's do that."

I slowly got ready. Drying and styling my hair, applying some makeup and picking out one of my favourite outfits. "Wow. You look lovely." He held both of my hands as he admired me, making a rose coloured blush spread across my cheeks. "Don't look too bad yourself." He was wearing a simple white t-shirt with some black pants. I moved past him, going to put on my shoes. Soon we were headed out the door and getting into his car.

When we arrived at the restaurant we got a table and sat down. The waitress came over to ask what we wanted to drink. "A coke please." Morgan said. "Yeah, I'll have the same. Thank you." She smiled politely then walked away. "Do you know what you want?" I asked as we scanned the menus. "I want whatever that guys got over there, it looks bangin." I followed his eye line to see a man eating a beef burger. I laughed. "You're so predictable."

After choosing what we wanted the waitress came back over and we ordered. "Do you remember when we first started dating and I took you too that dinosaur museum?" I chuckled. "Yeah I do. That's the day I knew that I loved you." I replied. "What? Really?" "Mhm. You got so excited about the keychains and I was watching you thinking 'I wanna be with that man for the rest of my life'" we smiled wildly at each other. "I thought it was when you saw my massive hog." My eyes widened. "Morgan! Shh." I giggled.

Once we'd finished eating our food and Morgan payed the bill, we left. He held my hand as we walked to the car, rushing to open my door for me when we got there. "Such a gentleman!" I pecked his lips then slid into the passenger seat. We were home within minutes and I kicked my shoes off.

We sat on the couch, scrolling through our phones. His head rested on my stomach. Every day was amazing with Morgan, we didn't have to do anything crazy because my favourite moments are when we're doing nothing but enjoying each other's company.

[vampiretendencies]

went out searching for an angel, then you came to me my darling ✩

request; hi love!! i had an idea of what jj would be like on a first date with his crush of all time!! maybe he’s been chasing her for ages and now the day is finally here where he gets to take her out! maybe he picked up extra shifts in preparation so he can pay for dinner and he’s all shy and nervous because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and even bought a new shirt so he looks all pretty for her? i love your fics so much, i hope you like this idea, can’t wait to see what you do with it pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader (reader is kind of a badass) warnings; fluff, i decided to set this while they are in high school still cause it just seemed right, BUT they are seniors here, making them 18. my characters are always aged up, keep that in mind. mentions of jj’s dad, luke, bullying, suggestive. proofread, but may find mistakes authors note; i knew the second i got this request i had to do it immediately. this is so cute, thank you for requesting.

JJ has devoted his time to leaving love letters in your locker.

Sliding the thin colored paper into the slit with definition. No, they weren't your typical secret admirer notes, JJ made it clearly evident that it was him. Always adamant in writing 'from JJ' in big capital letters, maybe even a small heart by it. Though, he just recently begun to add the heart, debating as to whether or not it was too much. Doesn't matter if it's lunch or a five-minute locker break, he's leaving a damn note in your locker, usually at the end of the day papers are flying to the mucky tiled school floors after opening the pliable metal door to the locker. And still you collect them all from the hopelessly swooning boy.

Some were insanely dumb, catching glance of one that said something along this lines of, 'my lips wanna' touch yours so bad, let's make it happen?'.

One may say that this is quite desperate of JJ.

But, this is the sight he's been fervent for, for years.

He’s sure his fascination started mid freshmen year. He remembers it like yesterday, vividly. There was a group of much older bullies encircling him in the school courtyard. Taunting him for his appearance, as if he were a freak show. His dad had gotten fired from yet another job, failing drug tests, never sober. JJ was sure Luke didn’t even know that the school year had begun. His shoes that year were so busted up, holes in the heal with the soles nearly falling apart; the same shoes he'd worn the past few years. Today, that is why he wears the irreplaceable combat boot, takes a lot to damage a thick black combat boot. His clothes that year, he'd outgrown them in more ways than one making them not up to par with the apparent bullies' standards. Scarring him to the point of no return, especially since you were there. You happened to be the reason he was fleeing that situation, not that JJ couldn't fight his own battles or that he was frightened. But it was that you noticed him. And, that you noticed him enough to not just walk by and act like you didn't see it happening. Oh, and it was that you ran the ignorant bullies away with a pocketknife you had tucked into your ankle length socks. Now that was what truly had JJ alarmed that day, a dainty, captivating girl waving a sharp knife around and looking mighty seductive doing so. What's not to like? You yanked him by the arm that day, and he's felt that pull since.

"Never tell anyone you saw that shit," you'd been referring to the knife and all JJ did was keep his mouth agape, astounded by the clutch your power had on him. He didn't, no one knows about that day except you, him, and the threatened classmates that did the bullying. Not even the Pogues knew.

He's been hooked since then, fastidious at best— enthralled that you existed at the same time as him. And he wasn't going to just not do anything about it.

Being a pest is what you'd known him best for. Proving your point as he'd leaned strikingly so on the lockers next to yours, blue irises tracing the outline of your figure. He can't fathom that you'd get more enchanting with every glance he steals.

The school day is ending, and rewiring of brains are beginning for the weekend. Hundreds of worn out bodies flood through the school doors, and you are trying to be one of them but someone’s mouth keeps moving.

JJ clears his throat before he speaks, about to aim toward the question he’s asked multiple times over the span of three years and each time it’s just as nerve wracking.

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice chirped, cheery in a way. You became fond of the plentiful pet name, and it drew your attention as it always did.

You haven’t made it obvious to JJ as why you’ve been turning him down repeatedly, constantly sending him off with his head hanging low in defeat. It was ego shattering, he’d admit, it wasn’t something detrimental though. He was committed to persuading you into giving him a chance. Just one, and even if you absolutely despised him after, at least he’d be able to say he got to go on a date with an everlasting presence such as yours.

Your permanent ‘no’s’ have been due to you desiring to keep your independence. Especially with this being senior year, and it coming to a close soon. It’s a known fact that typically everyone goes their separate ways after high school, so where would going on a date fit in that picture? A relationship to you had always been viewed as a parasite interaction, was it actually real? Leading the poor boy on just wasn’t something you could fathom doing— sure, he was more than easy on the eyes, with his sun kissed blonde tresses and his fully plastered tempting smirk … and, that’s not the point … the point is you couldn’t give pieces of yourself away for it to be of no meaning in a month when this is all over.

It would’ve been demeaning.

Astronomically stupid.

His jawline.

Each time he tried the more you fought it, though the way he appears today is just of sheer attraction.

Christ, he's fucking hot.

Thank fuck he's not an inch closer or you swore you might've jumped his bones. You couldn't have given him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Hi JJ."

The way his name leaves off of your tongue he wishes it were possible to frame a voice, engrave it, keep it forever. Yesterday he was almost on the verge of stealing your strawberry flavored chapstick, thinking that if he would've put it on his lips that you would've 'kissed' him. Yeah, he's got it real bad.

"I like those pants, really accentuates what you've got goin' on back there," JJ didn't intend on saying that. He's letting his mouth overload his ass, earning a sheepish gaze from you whilst you dump this week's JJ themed notes into the front compartment of your book bag. Holding contact with your eyes, still makes him feel like today might be the day.

"You like my ass Maybank, should've just said that."

Your voice is monotone, slamming the locker and throwing the bag over your shoulder. You lean mirroring him, engaging in the conversation as of now. Knowing what he's going to ask, as this is an everyday thing. Perhaps, going as friends would be something of consideration, just try it out.

What’s the worst?

Having a extremely stunning boy as a friend?

Just say yes, don’t think twice. Hate yourself for it later— your thoughts consumed you.

He blows air into his cheeks, anxiousness has overcome him tenfold. Hand raking over the tufts of hair at the back his neck, displaying it in obviousness. “Yes I do like your ass, and I have liked that same ass for three years.”

You urge a slight giggle, and he thinks he’s going to melt into nothing on the spot.

“Do something about it then.”

You taunt, aware he’s done everything about it. It’s just quite funny to see the stressed out stare turn into furrowed eyebrows with a slack mouth. Stunned at the sudden aggression, maybe things would be on his side this time. He refuses to question it, thinking he was playing coy alike with you.

“Depends, are you gonna’ break my little heart this time?”

He fakes fainting, whilst grasping at the cotton material of his shirt that covered his heart. Causing a scene as per usual, despite most of the school population gone by now. His brain has turned to mush, the way you’re on your tippy toes for a better look.

“Ask me,” you tilt your head a bit, encouraging him to do so. A smooth movement of your thumb and it’s grazing the skin of his lips, outlining them in perfect harmony. You’d never been this straightforward before, and he can’t fucking get enough of it.

“Let me take you out for dinner tonight, pretty girl. Y’know I’m not givin’ up … so me, you, a Kooky restaurant tonight at seven, yeah? How’s that sound?”

You heart flutters insatiably— you had to hand it to him though, his effort was impeccable and a night with JJ Maybank sounds a bit promising in its own meticulous way.

Let him have it, just this once.

It probably won’t lead to anything, so then looking back on it when the school year is over it will be just another memory, right? You thought, sticking to original reason that nothing out of high school becomes something worthy and then some.

“You’re gonna spend your life savings on one Kook meal?”

“For you, anything.”

Just say yes.

“One date okay?” you shove at his chest playfully, making an b-line toward the large steel doors. Watching you walk away, was sensational he might add. “One date Maybank!”

You reminded again, and still he wants to collapse on the middle of this dirty, shoe printed school floor. He was so giddy, jumping in elation.

“M’goin’ on a date!”

He relishes loudly, echoing through the halls of the school and you shake you head in disbelief as it rings in your ears the second your palm meets with the handle of the exit. JJ’s history teacher is peering around the corner, Mr. Sunn is somewhat proud of the boy he’s taught over his course of high school. Overhearing conversations between him in class, John B, and Pope in class, all they were ever about was you.

“You need to get going JJ,” Mr. Sunn pronounced, as JJ is standing in a now completely empty school. Twirling around on his feet, resembling a child that just got the toy they been begging for.

“She’s goin’ on a date with me Mr. Sunn!”

There’s a jar in JJ’s room at the chateau that’s labeled ‘when she says yes.’ It’s a mason jar, with money stuffed to the brim. Landing his job back at the country club as a waiter months ago, he took twenty dollars out of every check and put it in that sacred jar. And, then he mentally noted that he’d need more than just that if he wanted the night to really be worth while. He needed elegant clothes, and to get the biggest bouquet of roses he could possibly find.

He had plans for the roses— intending on wrapping every last layer in a love confessing sticky note. Because he’d like to think that that’s how this fresh romance is coming to be. He yearned ardently for you to know each and every reason as to why you were the only girl that walked planet earth in his eyes.

He wanted to discover your sweet spots, he craved to know how his lips molded with yours, he desired to know how your small hand would fit in his, and he was ravenously hoping to see your exemplary, pure body pressed against his.

JJ’s fingertips are colliding with an iron and an ironing board. Stood in the middle of John B’s living room, steadily removing every crease from his new, costly shirt— it was simple but effective; an angelic white short sleeve corduroy button up. Not too out of his comfort zone, but different enough for you to be able to tell he tried. Along with black pants that hugged his thighs and let loose around his ankles, and his combat boots— something he couldn’t switch up on.

It’s not JJ if he isn’t wearing those damn boots.

Kie and Pope are grimmacing on the dusty couch, surrounded by opened snacks and different assortments. They tended to pick fun at JJ, for chasing after something that’s wasn’t. But tonight it was.

For, he’s going to have his heavenly vision— that is you, before him and that’s making his body malfunction. To him, it was a privilege, to be breathing the same air as you. You could probably punch him in the gut, and he’d say thank you.

"Do you think she'll like this?" JJ shyly questions, so out of character holding up the freshly ironed shirt that is wrinkle free and now on a hanger. It caught Sarahs eye, who is cuddled into John B's side by the kitchen island. JJ knew it would've been much easier to just take it the dry cleaners, but it simply wasn't in his price range. And he relished in the fact that he earned such clothing, taking every great length to show his everchanging infatuation with you

"I definitely think she will," Sarah sends a reassuring smile his way, and he lowers the shirt to his side, counting down the last few remnants until he has to get ready, following through to pick you up.

"He's so fuckin' pussy-whipped over her, she's ruined him man," John B's sarcastic tone is not going to interrupt JJ's overwhelming exhilaration for tonight.

"Pussy-whipped and proud, she's gonna' be my girl, you'll see."

"You've been saying that for the past three years," Pope chuckles somewhat nudging Kie to laugh at the joke, but it wasn't of humor to her.

"M'taking the twinkie tonight."

With that JJ turns the iron off, shooting all of the Pogues his long middle finger, stepping slyly off into his bedroom, closing the door swiftly behind him. He had previously showered, smelling of saccharine musk but despite that he's having doubts peering into the full-length mirror; unsure of the reflection.

He's pulled away upon hearing the buzzing of his phone; it was you. Even seeing your name in the grey notification bubble sent slight relief to his chest.

Was his hair parted right?

Did he miss a spot shaving?

Was he even worthy of going on a date with you?

Jesus Christ.

He merely hopes to be as presentable as could be, and have you find him simply the slightest bit inviting.

Y/N

I should overdress right, since this is a Kook thing

At least you, weren't backing out at the last second.

JJ

Wear as little as possible :)

Y/N

Don't make me change my mind about this, Maybank.

A miniature film camera is stuffed in JJ's tinted black pants. It's digging into his skin deliciously, taking the pain as he knows the payoff will be wondrous. If he'd be lucky enough to get a picture of you or with you tonight.

Parked in the driveway of your home, from the Cut along with the rest of them. Your home is small and cozy and still JJ admires the way your mother hugs you goodbye, something he hadn't gotten to experience growing up.

However, he gets to experience this tonight.

The Twinkie's cracked windshield wasn't exactly the perfect view, but he is still enamored by the hypnotizing way your lacy dress flows from direct wind. It revealed parts of you he had yet to see, as this wasn't your typical wardrobe; more like a disguise to seem Kook like and fit in at the eatery. He pondered on the idea of you going out and buying it, only to go on a date with him.

Just for him.

The feeling had him scatterbrained.

He really can't comprehend your heaven-sent beauty.

Hair pinned back delicately, still as cutthroat as a double-edged sword. And when the door goes flying open, so does his soul from his body. Hell, he might not even be able to drive to the restaurant he's so fucking weak in the knees.

You must've mistaken JJ for some else, the person before you in the driver's seat is so clean cut. Locks brushed to the side, aligning his part. Chest poking through his button up just a breathtaking view in itself. His bright cheeks are painted an astonishing cherry red, as the pastel shaded sky is just about to set it enhances it even more. His achievement of wanting to look pretty for you has more than worked.

It's cynical to the pair that this agonizingly moderate occasion is here.

Long awaited, and worth every minute,

Just to be here, in this captured moment, together.

Fuck.Fuck.Fuck. This is happening. JJ thought, though similar thoughts are rummaging through your mind right now.

You shrugged him off for three years, witnessing this burning lovelorn grin on his face makes you regret wasting so much time. All that time, this beautiful creature could've been yours. Perhaps the odds in that percentage of people that go there seperate ways after high school won't be you and JJ. And maybe, your own independence was overrated.

You were wrong.

Oh so, mistakenly wrong.

"Bab- shit ... can I call you baby ... if that's okay?"

This differentiating pet name was of utter importance to JJ because it's so needy, and it encompasses all of his likened emotions for you in one little word.

"Course, baby."

JJ's shitting himself internally, he didn't know he needed to hear that leave your mouth until now, and he really wishes for you to say it an infinite amount more. All he can do is bore into your gloss lips, wishing to taste them desperately.

Aching for the sensation.

"You look really pretty tonight ... not just tonight though you look pretty all the time. Which explains why m'fuckin' obsessed with you and you're always on my mind. Swear, you're like ... tattooed in my brain and it's-"

You capture his lips with yours, a notion of telling him to shut the hell up, and just be. He was right, they mold together like they were created to enact a sweltering kiss such as this. It's magical to JJ, that he's lingering against your skin, touching your hair, kissing you long enough that he counted it perfectly in his head. A timely kiss, a tradional one, to leave him wanting more.

And he wants more. He wants so much more.

It's all true, if he's doing something as simple as listening to music, he thought about your opinion. If you disliked it, he'd find a way to. Paying attention to details over the years, he's practiced your hobbies, telling himself that he 'felt closer to you'.

He worshiped the fucking ground you walked on.

"You gonna' take me to dinner or what, Maybank?"

"Dinner's cancelled, I need you now, pretty girl."

Guess the food can wait.

[kalims]

I SEE SLOT REQUEST OPEN— IG??

Can i request a fluff with Octa trio(separately) on a date but being disturbed by the first year by questioning “why are you dating with this shady guy mom— you could’ve get better step father for us.” ace said…

AHAHAHAHAHA I JUST WANT CHAOS DURING TTHE DATE BETWEEN THE TRIO THAT WOULD BE FLABBERGASTED OR SHOCKED AND SPEECHLESS BY WHAT ACE SAYING THAT😭

that time where you became a parent | octavinelle

premise. there's a lot of firsts in relationships and getting your date crashed by your partner's self-proclaimed kids for the first time is apparently one as well.

cw. mention of getting tortured once (brief), someone disappears, mention of mafia as a comparison to the octa trio, not proofread

includes. gender neutral reader, fluff

note. hi yes, after ten years /j I've decided to test my flexibility with requests since I plan to take up commisions 😚

also ik that cw is really concerning but it's nothing bad in the writing i swear!! also you sent this ask a few hours ago (4) but I'm already done?? wow

hey also im so sorry I just realized you used a feminine term 'mom' and i only realized after I finished writing 💀 you didn't specify the reader and I didn't notice so I thought it's like gender neutral my bad!

azul ashengrotto | all of the above

"azul you've been frozen for a minute,, are you okay?"

"I'm,,, fine?" he thinks?

ace snorts. "dude you call that fine? you look like you just saw one of ursula's tentacles get cut off,"

shocked? flabbergasted? speechless? azul is just one huge combination of those three even though they're pretty much the same thing. he's just suprised, albeit a little disturbed that your... five grown men friends—‎also your apparent 'children' have now kidnapped you as their parent and is planning to make him a step-father without his consent!

he looks at you with a blink as if to as 'what in the great seven are they talking about' meanwhile you just shrug and take a bite out of the lunch azul had just bought you, thoroughly enjoying it because come on. who wouldn’t enjoy free food? it's your right as his partner to experience getting spoiled but that doesn't mean you don't get to not like it.

judging by the casual, indifferent demeanor you display and even your unbothered face? azul can tell that this happens lots of times and at some point you had accepted it.

also the ursula comment.. he got offended on her behalf, no way the great ursula would even let that happen to her. she's the epitome of greatness! plus... he'll have your bratty child know that octopuses can regrow a limb!

wait a minute.

azul sputtered and frowned defensively. "excuse me? shady?" he'll have them know that he is a perfectly—perfect father for your children! there is no 'better' because he simply is the best.

oh azul... who's gonna tell him that he's obviously showing off whenever your grown 'kids' are around in hopes of getting their approval? no one apparently cause ace thinks it's too funny for it to be stopped and he needs seriously good entertainment that matches up to this level.

god lord if anyone sees him snooping around the library on topics that typically interest teens.. or jade leaking out the fact that he sent the tweels to collect information about the five.. that makes for good blackmail according to them and he's starting to get concerned with how many material they had gotten from him.

ㅤ

jade leech | more amused than suprised

"I believe that I am capable of reaching the standards of your 'children'," a chuckle.

epel quips over from the side casually, toning his pitch up a notch to showcase the knowing voice. "hows your criminal record? clean?"

the chuckling ceases.

okay maybe he can reach their expectations in ways that doesn't involve a clean record. in his defense that person had crossed a line so jade had to... remind them which line to stay behind. it's not like epel knows that the speeding ticket was just a cover up for the more concerning one and as much as jade liked to tell the tale, he supposes he'd get much more disagreement if he told the other story, so he resorted to talking about the less... severe crime.

jack in particular voices his disagreement, more so when jade had commented on craving meat while eyeing jack in a way that the buff man immediately got offended and snitched to you.

safe to say that as much as you love your concerning, tall, red flag boyfreind he's definitely gonna feel the heat from your glare. that day jade learned not to mess with jack cause despite how ironically strong the man is? apparently he's a pretty big snitch cause he always goes to you and tries to 'convince' you that even kalim makes a better lover.

jade did not like that at all. why like the excruciatingly boring sunshine of scarabia? I mean come on, over kalim and jade? who's less boring? he questions you with a particularly coy smile.

for your sake, he supposes. the five troublesome first years had gotten less treatment for him nowadays and he's made it perfectly clear that he has the capability to mess with them once again, be it in a battle of mentality, or strength. but just cause he let them off doesn't mean their off the hook yet! which is great because with the subtly implications he had made meant that jack with the quick mouth wouldn't be so quick to snitch on him.

for a guy who tortur—I mean, gave a perfectly justified punishment to a sinner jade is pretty childish and competitive to prove that he's a pretty damn good boyfriend that no one,,, absolutely no one (not even your kids lol) can mess with.

ㅤ

floyd leech | thinks it's really funny and wants to be the dad

"awww.. shrimpy you didn't tell me you got a whole troupe of baby shrimpies," floyd giggles.

"I mean they didn't tell me that I was their parent too so,"

"hmph! calling the prefect my parent would be disrespecting master lilia!" sebek bemoaned—loudly despite accepting a parental scold about volume from you.

most of the sentence that ace commented about him being... shady? just went in one ear and out the other. I mean yeah, he isn't gonna blow the 'cover' but they're mafia type shit shady and he can't exactly deny what they see. and apparently what ace sees is that you need a better 'husband' and they need a better 'step-father' to which floyd replied a; "there's no one else. you're stuck with me baby shrimpies,"

floyd's grin was very ominous but when was it not? though his specific harder emphasis on 'no one' concerns you a little and you even had a moment of realization because besides that one guy who miraculously disappeared after he flirted witn you quite literally disappeared from thin air... who else approached you after that?

but just like any other MC you shrug it off :) (for the sake of the plot)

for some reason floyd believes the family thing wholly and had now squeezed himself into it—to the dismay and endless complaints from sebek. besides the obvious dislike the angry teen had out for him, floyd seems to think the opposite and even finds sebek amusing! (to the further suffering of sebek floyd had requested for him to call him dad)

sebek refused of course and explained he already had a father and simply could not!

floyd took it the wrong way and asked you if you were seeing another person 😭 I mean there's only one person 'lilia' in the school and from sebek's 'master-lilia' from their conversation it's clear that the boy was referring to whoever lilia is as his father so he tried to get jade up in it (who loved the idea of storming diasomnia but hell, even jade was wary of the nobody floyd never heard of in his life!)

^ coughs that was his jealousy speaking. in the end jade outright talked him out of it and told him that he could always spread some.. things since it always works.

out of jealousy floyd had told you that lilia sounds like a 5 year old name and is lame. jealousy may come in fire but floyd's come in grude. you just feel kinda bad for lilia lol

ㅤ

──  ko-fi

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 3)

you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part - next part

*cw: grief, loss, survivor's guilt

Despite the reappearance of billions of people, the resurgence still turned out to be a mass casualty event. Cases of missing persons are still in the millions as communication and transportation break down, while cases of confirmed death keep ticking up by the second. It couldn’t be avoided that some people got blipped back into extremely dangerous conditions, whether it’s a highway, on a flight above a remote region, in the middle of a demolition, or in extreme weathers. 

The domino effect only took things further. The newscaster was reporting about a case where a person blipped back into a bus driver seat which made the driver swerve into a crowd of people when Rei decided it was enough and turned the TV off. She’s herded you to the kitchen for lunch and let the calming music from the record player fill the room instead, and you’re thankful for it.

It’s Fuyumi’s day off but she’s headed for the school anyway. “They’d need as much help as possible”, she said, citing some of the teachers not being able to make it today. The trains haven’t been able to keep up with the sudden surge in demand and are heavily backed up. On top of that, a few lines haven’t been back to operation due to several incidents that had happened on some of the tracks. Roads are either closed or witnessing traffic stand-stills as more and more people opt to abandon their cars. 

Shouto insisted you stay home with Rei while he went back to the agency, mostly to get up to date about everything and sign you both in as the Commission will be expediting the license renewal for whoever reported back. He promised to reach out through Rei if they needed more boots on the ground, since you don’t have your phone anymore, but it’s been a good few hours already and you haven’t heard anything from him. The initial relief of not having to go back has faded as the news plays over and over in your head, and now you’re just plain antsy. 

Surely they’d want more people out there? 

The doorbell rings, nearly sending your dissociating ass flying off the chair.

“Would you mind getting the gate, sweetheart? The oven’s going off any minute now.”

“Sure thing Auntie!”

As you make your way past the pond towards the front gate, you swear you could hear some faint bickering from the other side, as if there’s a whisper shouting match going on, though it promptly stops once you’ve started fiddling with the latch. Cautiously pulling the gate open, you’re greeted with Hawks’ signature grin, and Touya, who immediately narrows his eyes at you. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” He demands, arms crossed. Hawks whips his head towards the silver haired hero, stunned by his malicious tone.

“Touya.” You greet, face unreadable.

“Are you here to steal from my fucking stash again?”

“I’m here to steal your mom, actually.” You blink.

And then begins the staring contest between you and Touya, daggers obviously included. To your left, Hawks’ eyes keep darting back and forth between you two, deciding if he should step in.

The silence is palpable.

Before the winged hero can open his mouth to say anything though, Touya fucking cackles.

“Alright, bring it in, you little shit.” He yanks you into a hug so tight that if you weren’t so used to it, you might think he’s intended to kill. “How’s it been?”

“Terrible.” You pat his back and turn to give Hawks a small wave. The dynamic display between you and Touya seems to have profoundly confused the blond as he awkwardly waves back. “I’ll tell you later, Auntie probably wants to see you.”

“Auntie? You two related?” Hawks finally pipes up.

“Hell no.” You and Touya speak at the same time.

“I’m just his mom’s favorite.” You add, dodging a swat in the head from the blue flame user. “Come on, she’s making lunch.”

“What is it?” Touya questions as he enters the front yard.

“Mackerel.”

“Ew.”

* * * * *

“I’ve known Shouto since we were kids so I’m here a lot, and they just kinda adopted me.” You quietly explain to Hawks, to which he replies with an elongated ‘ohhhh ’. You two have been standing off to the side of the dining room, trying to give Rei and Touya space for their reunion. “How do you know Touya?”

“Oh! Uh, we’re roommates.”

It takes all your self control not to visibly lift one eyebrow at his ever so slightly raised pitch. However, the blond seems to have picked up on your pause and quickly adds, “And we work together.”

“There's actually someone who can put up with him. I’m shocked.” You respond in a joking manner, punctuated with a laugh to imply that there’s no malice. 

Despite his brief villain phase and your unnecessarily hostile banter, Touya remains a solid big brother to you. He plays the role of the eldest sibling incredibly well, whether it’s yelling at you for hogging the Xbox, or tossing you and Shouto into the koi pond for pranking him, or getting community service for ganging up on your bully, leaving said bully with a black eye, some fractured ribs and an eternal fear of mentioning your name.

“Yeah right?” Hawks chuckles, then clears his throat. “So, what’s this ‘stash’ he spoke of huh?”

Ah, a diversion from the roommate topic. Well played, Hawks.

“Hard drugs, the hardest of them all.” You whisper, eyes darting all around. Cupping your hand over your mouth, you lean closer to him. “They’re called Takis.”

He lets out a loud chortle. “Of course it’s those. He’s so territorial about them.” Gruffing up his voice, he starts aggressively tapping his foot in an attempt to mimic Touya. “You can only get those from the American import store!”

“Not like he’s ever around to eat them anyway!” You throw your arms up. “I can’t let them just sit there and expire.” You emphasize the word ‘expire’ and look Touya in the eye as the stingy Takis hoarder makes his way over.

“If you fuckers have time to bond over stealing my shit, make yourselves useful and set up the damn table.”

* * * * *

Meals at the Todorokis are never fussy when it’s just family, so judging by the mismatched plates and the leftover oyakodon hastily reheated in its storing container for Mr. I-hate-fish, you venture to guess that Hawks also has a regular presence in this household. 

“The supply chain is bound to break down very soon.” The blond says between mouthfuls of food. “Housing will also go into crisis, so we’re preparing for civil unrest.”

“You should bring Dad home, Ma.” Touya’s voice is quiet. “We can hire a nurse that comes by everyday. Hell, we can even send a nurse from our agency.” He tilts his head towards Hawks who nods enthusiastically. “Don’t want you out there by yourself, it’s going to be a crazy time.”

Rei reaches for her empty bowl and gets up to make tea, saying she needs a minute to think about her son’s suggestion, leaving you three to finish the meal.

You’re feeling antsy all over again at the mention of the world’s current situation. Resting the chopsticks over your bowl, you ask the two heroes sitting across the table.

“Speaking of out there, how are things right now?”

“Oddly quiet.” Hawks is the first to reply. “We’re on quick rotation today to give everyone at least a couple of hours to see their loved ones, but there hasn’t been much going on.”

“Won’t be for long though.” Touya chimes in. “Wait, shouldn’t you be at your agency? The Commission’s taking head counts over there last I heard.”

“Uhhhh– Sho’s reporting for me. I kinda don’t wanna be there right now.” You stare at the plate in front of you. Hmm, fish bones, so very interesting.

Bright blue eyes narrow at you. “Why?”

“Cause my ‘boyfriend’ who runs the agency is now engaged to his sidekick.” You grimace, not really wanting to bring this up in front of Hawks. Despite how friendly he seems to be, you both are mere acquaintances. Still, knowing Touya, he would pry it out of you sooner or later.

“That pomeranian is fucking dead.” Didn’t even take a second for Touya to know exactly who you were talking about. “I’m calling Toga.”

“Woah! Please don’t.” You panic. “It was a nightmare getting the Commission off her back last time. You’re not gonna tempt her with another ‘good slashing’. I just– fuck this is fucked up.” You whisper the last part to yourself. Burying your face in your hands, you sigh. “I just need time, I guess. To get my shit together enough to face him.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” An unexpected voice cuts in. 

Your hands drop from your face as you peer at Hawks. He has his usual smile plastered on his face, though with a hint of somberness.

“Come work for us.” He continues, bits and pieces of his signature cheerfulness creep back in as his chin comes to rest on his palm. “We could always use more heroes that can work the air, and from what I saw yesterday you seem pretty good at it.”

“Wait– are you serious?” You gape.

“I mean, up until you were almost splattered against the Samsung rooftop of course, but yes.” His crimson wings flutter in mischief.

“Not that– and I was perfectly capable of keeping those citizens alive thank you very much. But, um.” You drop your hands to your lap to keep from visibly fidgeting. “I mean–”

“You think on it.” The mischief is gone from his voice. “Just putting my offer on the table.” 

“Our offer.” Touya leans forward. After a beat, a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “We can take both you and Shouto.”

“Huh? Shouto? What does he have to do with this?”

“You’re crazy if you think the brat won’t follow you over like a fucking lost duckling.” 

“Um, he won’t.”

“Wanna bet? Ya got 5000 yens to lose?”

You frown at Touya like he’s lost his mind. Sure, you and Shouto are as attached at the hip as can be, but the agency is where most of his friends are. Friends of five (ten?) long years who have gone to war and back with each other. Although they’re your friends too, your friendship only started after high school. There are inside jokes you still don’t get.

God, and you just lost out on five more years of bonds. Maybe starting over somewhere else doesn’t sound so scary anymore. 

‘You don’t have to do it alone.’

What Shouto said last night flits by like a breeze, calming, yet intangible at the same time. You don’t know if it means he would pick up his life to follow you, or if it’s simply a good luck hug before you two part ways once more, like the day you left for Ketsubutsu. 

The thought of not having to start over by your lonesome though, does sound… kinda nice.

“Oh, hey guys.”

Speaking of the devil .

Shouto walks into the dining room and sets a cardboard box on one of the chairs. A chorus of ‘hi’, ‘hey’ and ‘sup’ greets him back as he starts rummaging through it.

“They hung onto stuff from our lockers so I grabbed a few things. Here’s your phone.” Shouto hands you the device. “There are some spare chargers in your room I’m pretty sure.”

The Dynamight grenade charm dangles from your worn leather phone case, taunting. 

“Thanks.” You mumble. “I should probably call my cousin.”

Catching a glimpse of you removing the charm under the table before getting up to gather the empty bowls and plates, Shouto clears his throat. 

“Yeah. I’ll put our hero costumes in the wash while you do that.”

“So domestic.” You tease on your way out. “I’ll be right back.”

.

You are way out of earshot when Touya finally snickers.

“Are you fucking blushing, Sho?”

* * * * *

You can’t take your eyes off the 99+ badge that popped up on your message app icon once you’ve managed to get your phone to turn on. 

You had fought hard not to open the can of worms it might contain, but fate had other plans when your cousin didn’t pick up. Feeling obligated to text her cause the poor anxious woman would freak out over a missed call with no explanation, you tap onto the app and hold your breath as the chat logs load in. 

Katsuki’s name pops up at the top.

They all say curiosity kills the cat. You will not be a cat today. You will not be a cat today. You will not be a cat today. You–

You are nothing but a cat.

And you greedily open the chat and scroll all the way to the top of the new messages like a damn ravenous feral.

There must be hundreds and hundreds of gray chat bubbles sitting on the left side of the screen, all staring at you, calling you a masochist. You read on.

.

Katsuki:

where the fuck are you

answer the damn phone

if you’re not there when i get back I SWEAR TO GOD

baby?

please fucking answer im freaking the fuck out

a bunch of pilots went missing so i might be stuck here for a while

just hang on for me okay?

please?

.

Katsuki:

i dont know why im texting when your phone’s right next to me

dont know who to talk to

everyone’s grieving

the agency is so empty

why you gotta leave us huh

asshole

why you?

why not me?

.

Katsuki:

knocked the planter over while breaking into your place

sorry

i know you love that one

loved

the bed still smells like you

come home to me

.

Katsuki:

why are you not back yet

been a month already

sick fucking joke you moron

hope you stub your fucking toe

miss your fucking face

miss you

miss you so much angel

.

Katsuki:

happy anniversary baby

got you your favorite umeshu

you remember the shopkeeper?

the one with the wife who runs the bakery next door

his whole family is still here

how fucking lucky is that

anyway

i fucked up

made a scene when your landlord was showing your apartment to some extras

i mightve punched him

IN MY DEFENSE

the prick didnt have a fucking reason to show it to anyone

ive been paying your rent for fucks sake

now he demands i clear everything out within the week

im so sorry baby

.

Katsuki:

saw this and thought of you

[Image Attachment]

you always liked those damn long nosed dogs

shitty hair and them dragged me out for a damn picnic

food sucks

wish you were here

.

Katsuki:

i hate you

i hate you so much for leaving me

i fucking hate that everything reminds me of you

cant even have a fucking meal without thinking about you

how do i even deserve to eat 

to fucking live

to do all these mundane things like going on a fucking picnic

when you cant

fuck– 

.

[New messages from: Katsuki] 

[Message preview: i know you got your phone back and you’re…]

.

You curse, wiping at the tears that have started pooling at the corners of your eyes. Of course he’s seen all of his messages had been marked as read. With a sigh, you scroll all the way down to the bottom of the chat. 

.

Katsuki:

i know you got your phone back and you’re reading this

i still got your stuff 

they’re in storage at the agency

come by tomorrow

i need to talk to you

[talia-black]

A Gift Repaid (Is But A Favor Owed)

(I started this a week after 2.3 went live. Clearly this sat in my WIPs before boredom resurrected it. Based on the 2.3 post-quest. Currently in the middle of a hurricane and the internet is out so I finally have no choice but to finish some of my WIPs.) 

Angsty, because Lord knows I can’t separate poor Aventurine from his trauma, but let me know if you want a fluffy sequel. 

Trailblazer!Gender neutral!Reader

(But I do use the name Stelle because I am a part of the AvenStelle agenda)

Stelle wants to repay Aventurine's gift, but doesn't have a single clue about how to do that. Maybe something just a little bit more will come of their clueless but sincere gesture.

Aventurine let out a well-earned sigh as he collapsed into bed. The weeks following his return to Pier Point had been nothing but a series of meetings, debriefs, more meetings, follow-up reports, and even more meetings. Leaving the normally free-wheeling gambler feeling restless and pent-up. Watching the drama unfold on the Radiant Feldspar had been his only form of entertainment. So naturally once the negotiations had settled and the Fool's prank had been dealt with, the Stoneheart had nothing to distract himself from the stack of paperwork taunting him from its perch on his desk.

Admittedly he had resorted to browsing one of his favorite online stores when he got the notification that the limited-edition model of the Astral Express was finally open for bidding. He won naturally, and it only took him a few seconds before he decided what to do with it.

Aventurine bundled up a few trinkets he had collected while on Penacony and had them packaged alongside the train model before shipping it off to the formerly-named Radiant Feldspar.

Stelle had been by far one of the most interesting and delightful characters he ever had the pleasure of meeting. Despite the power they wielded simply by hosting a Stellaron and being a member of the Astral Express Crew, they were almost chronically lawless and free-spirited. Although, squirrel-brained might be the most accurate descriptor. They could be in the middle of a punch line to some terrible dad joke one moment, and the next they are sprinting off because something shiny was poking out of a trashcan and they just had to take it with them. Every expensive gift he sent their way was met with sincere gratitude. But Stelle's wide-eyed, embarrassed blush didn't hold a candle to the expression of pure joy that lit up their entire face whenever they dug out something they deemed worthwhile out of a pile of abandoned boxes or an alley that looked like it could launch a thousand microbiology studies. Stelle was just so genuine and thoroughly lacking in any kind of malicious intent or agenda that it was impossible to not be endeared to them.

As far as the Stoneheart was concerned, the Astral Express' resident raccoon in human skin could have whatever their heart desired.

()()()()()()())()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Honestly, Aventurine forgot about the gift after a week. Work wasn't any less busy, and it was becoming clearer by the day that part of his punishment for damaging his cornerstone and putting two others in jeopardy was to be grounded on Pier Point until Diamond was forced to send him somewhere else.

Five weeks later, the gambler was willing to take a second shot at that Emanator if it meant he would be able to escape the never-ending mountain of paperwork. One way or the other.

Which is why he decided to spend an afternoon sifting through his backlog of physical mail instead of addressing the two-foot stack of papers that one of Obsidian's lackeys had dropped on his desk five minutes before his lunch break or the 1000+ emails sitting in his inbox.

The majority was junk. He was appalled that most of it got past his subordinates desk, and he happily watched the papers be chewed to pieces in the shredder. A few particularly inventive scam attempts even managed to get a chuckle out of him before they met their fate.

The slightly more personal letters were mildly amusing. Threats from past "friends", professions of love from strangers who had caught a glimpse of him at this place or the other. 

He would definitely need to have HR reevaluate the person who handled his mail.

Aventurine saved the packages for last, mainly because he knew those had been thoroughly inspected before they were even allowed in the building. One attempted bombing incident and now all of his shopping orders took a minimum of 72 hours before he was allowed to pick them up. But it wasn't until he had actually started to examine the boxes that he noticed something odd.

One of the packages wasn't so much a "package" as it was something vaguely spherical wrapped in newspaper. A shipping label that barely met postal requirements was the only thing holding it together, and the smell of burnt metal radiated from it. The sender's name had been smudged, which only fueled the gambler's curiosity.

Mostly confident whatever was in the package wouldn't kill him, Aventurine tore away the wrapping paper.

"What in the name of the Preservation-"

Aventurine hissed. His fingers had struck metal, nearly slicing his finger open on a particularly jagged corner. The rusted bronze burned in the low lighting Aventurine had illuminating his office, offset by the shiny aluminum that had been soldered to it. Aventurine continued to unwrap the package and it was only when the last of the newspaper had fallen to the floor that he was able to make out what it was.

Several pieces of scrap had been melded together in a caricature of a star. Different types of metal and alloys gleaned in the light of his office, and despite the patches of rust and wear on it, a lot of effort had clearly been put into it.

Aventurine had no clue what to make of it. It wasn't some high-end art piece if the shipping was anything to go by, and wasn't anything close to gifts people had attempted to bribe him with before. He reached down to pick through the wrapping and take a second look at the shipping label and a folded piece of paper fell out. It looked like standard cardstock, but Aventurine could see his name scratched on the top.

The gambler's intrigue was practically suffocating him at this point as he snatched the paper up and folded back the crease.

Hey Aventurine, hope you're doing alright. I've been stabbed before. It's not a fun experience once the adrenaline wears off and you can't get your legs to work properly. Make sure you wait at least a few days before trying to go out and pick a fight, or you'll wake up with very disappointed people hovering over you.

Sorry I didn't respond to your gift sooner. I would say social anxiety is bitch, but March has been nagging me to stop masking my vulnerability with humor.

Truthfully, I didn't know how to thank you. Excusing that little scuffle at the theme park (No hard feelings there. A lot of my friends have tried to maim me before) you've been great company and I wanted to give you something in return for all of the presents you’ve given me. It took me a while to decide on what exactly that was. I've watched a few of your poker games. You can make more credits in a single evening than I've ever had in my entire life. It wasn't until Dan Heng commented on all of the "junk" in my room that I had the idea of making something.

March 7th says I'm a hoarder. I prefer the term "low-budget collector". The metal you're holding was scavenged from a massive junkyard that most of Belobog's decommissioned robots end up in, though some of it came from abandoned cycranes I found near the Alchemy Commission. You wouldn't believe the types of odds and ends that get thrown in their dumpsters.

I had to ask for Himeko's help to actually weld the metal though. I think I did a pretty decent job for my first time, and aside from a few burns I made it through the experience unscathed. Word of advice: never touch the tip of a welding torch. Even after it's been off for ten minutes.

I really did like hanging out with you, Aventurine. Not a lot of people are willing to put up with my hyperactive raccoon brain for long, and it was nice to meet someone else who enjoys causing general mayhem. There should be another present in here if I get Pom-Pom to approve it.

Anyway, I hope you at least like this gift. If you don't, feel free to toss it.

May your journey lead you starward

-The Trailblazing Raccoon

Stelle

P.S. If you were serious about that round of cards, the Express will be staying at the Luofu for the next few months before we go out of range of the HoloNet for a while. I know a place with great food and mostly empty tables if you feel like stopping by.

Stelle.

The letter’s words blurred from how hard his hand was shaking.

Aventurine blinked furiously. A single tear escaped and smeared the postscript. He set the ornament gently on his desk before looking through the newspaper for a second envelope.

Instead of another folded note, there was a smaller envelope crookedly taped to what had been the inside of the newspaper. 

The Astral Express welcomes all who wish to move beyond their past and journey along the silver rails, no matter their intent or agenda. Ms. Topaz has already been granted an Express Pass, so it would be inconsiderate to not offer you one as well when a Trailblazer has vouched for you. The Pass enclosed will allow you to board the Astral Express whenever you wish, barring emergency circumstances or a crisis state. 

- The Conductor of the Astral Express, Pom-Pom

A golden ticket was nestled in the folded page. The rainbow sheen on its glossy gold surface was a perfect replica of the reflection of the stars outside Aventurine’s office window. 

Those same stars were the sole light in Aventurine’s penthouse apartment later that night as he drowned his memories and anxieties in a bottle of Penacony’s finest. His alcohol-addled brain scheming away as he clutched that golden ticket in a death grip. 

()()()()()()())()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

A few days later…

“Hey Stelle!” 

The Trailblazer in question looked up from their game to see March leaning into their room.

“You’ve got a package. Well, a few packages. And a letter.”

Stelle raised an eyebrow as March dropped six nicely-wrapped boxes and a letter on their bed.  

“Are you sure you haven’t gone over your budget this month?” March asked as Stelle reached for the letter. 

“I haven’t ordered anything,” Stelle mumbled, distracted by the ostentatious gold calligraphy decorating the front. The list of people she knew who would send them such a thing was short, and with the packages…

Stelle ripped open the envelope and leaned back, away from March’s prying gaze. 

Dear Stelle, 

It would be my honor to accept your invitation. The gifts I’ve sent are a small measure of my gratitude for such a thoughtful present, and I hope you won’t object to similar gestures in the future. I’ve never had the chance to visit the Luofu, but I managed to free a few days next week for me to spend at my leisure. You have my number, so if you’re looking for a little risky fun, give me a call. 

Your close friend, Aventurine <3

[dewdropdinosaur]

Falling for You

VOX x READER Summary: You are Vox's assistant and maybe tripping isn't so bad in the work place. Warnings: None. Just Vox being egotistical(I tried to keep it canon but I am sorry if it's not exactly) and lots of pining. Keep in mind that REQUESTS are OPEN!!

Vox stepped out of a black limo and stood up, revealing his seven foot figure as a crowd of demons rushed over to either take pictures, ask questions, or get an autograph…which he had completely ignored all their attempts to try with a disgusted look on his face. Stepping out of the limo along with him, clutching your pen-pad you strode beside him as he walked into the large VoxTech building. 

You knew he had secretly enjoyed the attention he was getting very much from the crowd. It made him feel powerful. You swore you could have seen him flash a light blue toothy grin at times.

“Sir, Zestial, your 3 o’clock is waiting in the 10th floor lounge to discuss recent sales and advertisements on 666. And your 4 o’clock canceled so your 6 pm is now moved to that slot. Valentino wants you to visit his studio apparently he is pissed and oh Velvette is having none of it—”

“Relax darling, I’ve got it handled.” Vox smirked down at you, cupping your chin in his hand in dominance. You breathe out a heavy sigh once he removes his hand, hiding a small blush that graces your cheeks hoping he didn’t notice. He does though, always has. The way your eyes light up when you look at him, the small tint of color that reaches your nose when he compliments you, he sees it all. And he loves it. 

Entering the elevator, you press the button for the 10th floor; relaxing as the metal doors close shut and you are away from the loud crowd. It continued like this for the rest of the day. Meetings, interviews, coffee break(that was more like a coffee second than the actual 30 minute lunch session), writing reports, adding to Vox’s calendar, writing more reports, making sure Valentino doesn’t blow up another employee…and so on and so forth. 15 hour days were now your specialty after working with Vox for so many years and yet some days still drug on longer than one would have appreciated. 

Sitting at your desk outside Vox’s office, the small light of the lamp illuminated the darkened area. You rub your eyes in exhaustion, peeking at the monitor to see it read ‘1:26 AM’. Deciding that five hours of sleep was better than none, you switch off your monitor and stack your paper reports neatly on your desk for later that day. Flicking off the lamp, you knock softly on Vox’s office door and allow yourself in. 

“Sir, I just finished up. I’ll see you at 7 AM.”

“Mhmm, another late night?”

“Could say the same for yourself boss.”

“Y/N, it’s past work hours. You know how I hate paying your overtime.” 

“And yet, without fail, I see that nifty little add on each week.”

“Well, you are one of the few competent assholes in this place”

“Was that a compliment sir?” 

“Don’t push your luck darling.”

Vox turns his chair around to face you, a large cup of coffee steaming in his hand as he sips it with a smirk. Crossing your arms with the chuckle, you liked this banter. You and Vox had always had a good working relationship, sassing each other back and forth while still toeing the line between professionalism and flirting. Taking a step forward, you stop right in front of his desk.

“You know me Vox, I am always pushing the envelope. So, was it a compliment?”

“Ah yes, always so pushy. Really shouldn’t be a quality you brag about.”

“But it’s why you like me~. The pushing, always getting what I want to know.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny the fact that you may have more tact than most in this shithole.” 

Biting back a laugh at his playful attempt at professional language ruined by the vulgarity, you place a hip on the desk; sitting casually. The large aquarium was a nice backdrop and you could see why Vox spent a lot of time here. Other than working himself to the bone to maintain his image/the company or hunting down the Radio Demon on any available CV camera, looking into the aquarium was a nice activity you assumed he might partake in. 

“Something on your mind Y/N?” 

Snapping your head back to his and reality, you offer a sheepish smile and a shake of your head. 

“No, no. Just admiring the aquarium.”

“It is pretty nice, I built it myself. Should have seen it, it didn't take more than a week.”

“Truly humble boss, truly humble.” 

“Now is that any way to speak to your employer?”

“My apologies. I didn't realize stroking your ego was in my job responsibilities.” 

Standing up from the desk, you accidentally catch your foot on the wires underneath. Bracing for the impact, it doesn’t come. Instead, you are caught as a small yelp leaves your mouth. Looking up, Vox has caught you with one hand; holding you in a dip. The world freezes for a few seconds as you take a moment to look at his face, the feeling of his hands on your hips, it all felt…right for some reason. 

Clearing his throat, Vox pulls you up and removes his hand. You could have sworn you saw a small flush on his screened face before he spoke. 

“Tch, women. Always falling for me.”

“Again…really humble boss.”

Heat still crept onto your cheeks as you long for the feeling of his hands on your waist, how warm they felt, how safe it made you feel. Adjusting your blouse, you excuse yourself and walk home; mind running with all the possibilities and recounting every second of the encounter. 

Little did you know, Vox was doing the very same. Replaying the event on his monitors, reviewing every second and every flush of your skin. The way your eyes widened and looked up at him with such hope, it made his circuits buzz a little. He wouldn’t deny it, he had always found you attractive. Definitely helped in meetings with other Overlords to have a pretty face moderating. But he would be wrong to say that was the only reason. You were hardworking, almost as driven as him and that is saying something. You flowed effortlessly around the office, directing everything to its natural and needed space. And the way you smiled for the camera, gosh he wished you would smile at him like that. That pretty pearly white smile. 

Looks like this might not be the professional relationship it had started out to be. Neither of you wanted to keep it professional anyway. 

[adeaddogsdove]

read a fic the other day about sam and dean spending that week after john dies at bobby’s, and the sweet rottie rumsfeld being involved which got me thinking how much i headcannon sam as a dog person. hope to god i did this image of sam justice.

It’s hot and the sun beats down unforgiving as ever, but Dean spends all day out working on Baby. It’s for the car of course, because he needs the car. But it’s also so he doesn’t have to face Sam.

The heat drowns out his thoughts, turns him into some zombie that’s only goal in life is to fix the car. It makes him sick, makes his head hurt if he thinks too hard about it. He probably wouldn’t feel as sick as he does if he let Sam close enough to remind him to drink enough water.

His tan lines are starting to show from wearing an old mildewy white tank top, one that he’d found in the corner of Bobby’s laundry room. His jeans have soaked with sweat, and then dried, so they’re sticky and cool as they cling to his legs. Usually, he wouldn’t be this unclean but there’s a drought so Bobby’s been unnecessarily anxious about laundry.

It’s been four days — maybe three, maybe even five. Dean doesn’t know, the heat makes time pass in weird ways. He finds himself going out under the car early in the morning; and his body carrying him back to the house for dinner just before the sun sets. Counting days hasn’t exactly been his top priority.

Usually, the sound of Sam playing with Rumsfeld lulls him into that state. The door clinks open from across the yard, just barely audible over the sound of Dean’s music. Rumsfeld will bark at Sam once, and Sam will usually laugh. The ball gets thrown, sometimes hitting one of the cars in the yard — which usually makes Dean’s awareness flicker with urge to tease Sam for having bad aim.

But Rumsfeld clambers through the dead cars to get the ball every time, so Dean absentmindedly wonders if Sam does it on purpose just to make her work for it.

Sam will play with her like that for a while, with the occasional pause to walk down the yard in search of Dean. Which Dean knows Sam thinks he doesn’t notice. He does, he just choses to ignore or forget it most times.

She’ll lap at a bowl of water after the sound of her steps across the creaking porch, and Sam will praise her for it before going in for lunch.

Dean went in for lunch the first day they were here because Bobby was still home. Dean’s sure that the tension between the brothers is what chased him away on a ‘meet-up’ with some other hunters.

After Sam finishes lunch he either organizes shit in Bobby’s living room (Dean doesn’t know how he knows this, but the information sits in his memory like its been branded there. He gathers he’s maybe spent time looking in the window of the house from against Baby) or, Sam finds a book and comes back outside despite the raging heat.

Sam will stay there, silently, until Dean comes inside before sundown. Somehow, Sam always knows to go in just a few minutes before Dean wraps up. And then they eat dinner in silence until one goes upstairs to the guest room they used to sleep in as kids, and the other promptly takes their turn on the couch.

Today, Dean hasn’t heard the door to the house open once. Rumsfeld’s getting impatient, Dean could hear her pacing and whining.

It’s not all that abnormal, Sammy’s a big boy. He’s allowed to have freedom to do whatever he wants. But it has Dean on edge, enough to break through the barrier of his fever-dreamed haze.

He could easily barge in the house and complain about Rumsfeld whining for being the reason of asking why Sam’s not played fetch with her — to inadvertently ask what’s wrong with him, why he broke routine.

But that would take effort, and lead to a real conversation that Dean doesn’t think he’s ready for. Because’s he’s fine, he absolutely is, talking about it would only disrupt his fine state.

So he doesn’t go inside to check on Sam, he goes back under Baby and continues his work, hoping for the sun-haze to take over his brain so he stops thinking again.

It’s probably hours later when he breaks through it again, having just finished the task he set out on early that morning. He doesn’t have Sam to gage what time it is, so he doesn’t know if it’s after lunch or not.

The yard seems to be void of the sound of Rumsfeld, which makes him uneasy because the sound of her collar is always clinking with the rhythm of her pants.

Dehydration plagues his mouth, and makes him dizzy when he clears his throat. He rolls the creeper out from under Baby, and forces himself to stand. It makes his head pound unforgivingly.

Dean wipes his hand with a rag, searching the yard for Rumsfeld — who’s nowhere to be found.

He clears his throat again — immediately regretting it, then sets the rag down on the wood bench and forces himself to walk up to the house.

Minus the absolute crave for water, his stomach rumbles in hunger, angry at him for having skipped so many lunches.

He forces himself up the old creaky steps, and draws the screen door open before pushing his unwilling body into the slightly cooler house.

Dean doesn’t hear signs of Sam upon immediate entry, and he neglects to look for him until he gets to the fridge and manages a bottle of water.

The fridge feels only a few degrees cooler than the air in the house, but the water bottle he picks up cools his hand down the rest of his body like frost spreading on a late October night. He shivers in his place.

The action of unscrewing the cap and bringing the bottle to his mouth happens on instinct, and gulping down the cool liquid brings life back into his body. He groans softly, chugging the bottle down — minus a few drops that escape from his mouth and down his chin.

He pops off it with a desperate breath, crunching up the bottle and throwing it into the open paper bag on the floor next to the trash can.

Sam’s name sits heavy in the back of his throat, nearly having made it’s way out when he turns. His breath is ripped from his chest, forcing the name to die in his throat.

Sam’s asleep on the couch, Rumsfeld promptly atop him like it’s where she’s meant to be. She’s not even allowed in the house unless she’s being fed.

Sam’s limbs are too long to fit on the ugly brown couch, one of his legs is propped against an arm, and the other moulds his neck to mimic a pillow. His other leg hangs off the couch, dangles just above the surface of the old wood floors just like one of his arms.

It can’t be a restful sleep, Dean wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping like that — but Sam looks more peaceful than he’s been since he was at Stanford. The warm — clearly afternoon — sun beams in through the louvered shades, caressing his soft features just perfectly.

He’s not angry, or upset, or even happy — he’s just there. Peaceful, relaxed. Perfect. He’s perfect.

Rumsfeld covers him like a ratty blanket, drooling against one of Sam’s stupid geek shirts that he loves so much. The arm not dangling off the couch clutches her fur, just above her collar where there must be a sweet spot that she likes to be pet.

The image of Sam calling her up onto the couch, getting himself comfortable, and petting her till they both dozed fills Dean’s chest with a kind of warmth he hasn’t felt since Sammy was just a snaggletoothed sticky mess that looked up to him like Dean was the fuckin’ sun.

In this moment, Sam looks like more than just the sun. He’s fucking divine — angelic. The sun clings to his skin and his hair that looks two shades lighter — because they’re one. It finds every bit of open skin — the spot where his shirt’s been hiked up and his hip shows, his arms and neck — all scattered with gleams of pure warmth and light.

Dean doesn’t consider himself religious, threw the idea of anything but horrible away when his mom had died the way she did after reminding him night after night that their family was blessed. But Sam’s restful state, his soft and mesmerizing features almost has him on his knees.

Rumsfeld doesn’t wake, doesn’t even seem to graze the surface of a stir — she lets Dean stare. Lets him stand there and gape at the two of them.

Sam’s breathing is soft — just like Dean knows his voice would be if he took the few steps forward to wake him.

He is soft. He is delicate. He is the boy that Dean fell in love with at the age of innocent. He is nothing but perfect; even when he strays from his usual self in times of anxiety and trouble. He is everything that Dean would kill for and die for, just from a silent pleading look — and from so much less. He is Dean’s everything.

Dean doesn’t know how long he stands there, doesn’t know how long he watches Sam and Rumsfeld just breathe in their sleep, but he does until his knees and his hips ache, and until the sun shining in is turning a dark orange. He does until Sam stirs awake, softly turning in his spot to rub his eyes open just like he did when he was 10 years younger.

Dean melts at the soft mewl he lets out, and melts even further at the less soft groan when Rumsfeld turns to lay fully on her side atop him.

He can’t find it in him to move from his place, even though he suddenly feels guilty for watching Sam as long as he did.

Sam huffs at the rottie, scratching behind her ears before turning — he looks surprised to see Dean at first, his eyes flickering back and forth between him and the dog before he softens and shifts to sit up as much as he can under Rumsfeld’s weight.

“Dean,” he says gently — and it’s exactly the way Dean knew he’d sound when he woke.

“Sammy,” Dean says back — exasperated to finally speak his brother’s name, but just as supple as Sam had.

He has the urge to whisper it again, to say his brother’s name over and over like a prayer because Sammy is something that deserves to be worshipped.

He doesn’t. In fact, he stands there, unsure of what to do with himself; go up to Sam, and touch his face — whisper his name like a desperate plea, kiss him softly — or leave, let the moment be remembered and burned into Dean’s brain as how gorgeous his little brother is, with no mistake to taint it.

Sam seems to not know either, so they stay there in silence. Dean’s legs aching and screaming at him to just sit down for a minute, Sam’s messy hair and face painted with the fading sun — and Rumsfeld dozing away.

For a second, the flashes of Dean on his knees in front of that very couch feels so real he thinks he might actually be there, that he might’ve actually manned up and done what he craves so badly to do.

But then the fridge ticks, and Sam clears his throat, and Rumsfeld jolts awake, suddenly starved for her dinner.

They don’t part unkindly — Sam tears his eyes from Dean’s, and the moment ends as harmoniously as it could’ve.

Dean regrets not having gotten on his knees for his brother the moment they sit down at the uneven table for a dinner they’ve had for the last several nights.

He regrets not showing Sam how badly he worships him.

He regrets it, He regrets it, He regrets it, He regrets it.

But he can’t bring himself to change it.

They eat in silence, maybe Sam having moved on from the moment just as much as Dean had — and Dean’s still sure he can feel the still air, and the cramp in his legs, and the hunger in his belly for more than just the food promised for dinner — but instead the heavenly being that is his little brother.

They don’t talk about it, but after dinner they gravitate to the couch together — where somehow Sam ends up leaned against Dean in the way he had when they were younger and only — still — had just each other.

They don’t talk about the way that Dean slowly snakes his hand over Sam’s body to find one of his, desperately seizing the palm that is so much softer than his. They don’t talk about the implication of it, or where it would lead if they managed to take the next step — they don’t talk about the trouble of what would happen if Bobby found them like this, with Rumsfeld at their feet in the house she’s not allowed in unless she’s being fed — and with their hands, hearts and bodies intertwined.