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f0blove · 4 years ago

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Keep You Like An Oath (Patrick Stump)

I turn the knob, not bothering to knock, and shove the door open with my shoulder.

“You will NEVER guess what happened to-oh” I pause as I see only Andy and Joe sitting on the couch. “Hey guys. Sorry I thought Patrick would be home”

I grin at them and plop my bag down on the floor, kicking the door shut behind me. “No worries, YN” Joe says with a laugh “what’s up”

“Just a rough day at school” I say with an eye roll, glancing around the room.

“Sorry to hear that” he replies, “and Patrick is home, just grabbing something out of the bathroom I think”

“Oh perfect, thanks!” I say, perking up. I cross the room quickly, not hesitating before swinging the door of the connecting bathroom open.

“Wait not-” I hear as it opens, but it’s too late.

“Oh god!” I say, greeted with a full view of fully naked Pete, towel drying his hair. I shut the door before Pete has a chance to respond.

“Yeah not that bathroom….sorry” Joe says, him and Andy laughing behind me.

“Little late to tell me that now don’t you think” I say with a glare in his direction.

Pete comes out of the door, towel now wrapped around his waist. “We really need some boundaries in this house” he says with a mocking grin.

“My bad, thought you were Patrick” I say sheepishly.

“Oh trying to catch a naked glimpse of him instead?” pete responds, waggling his eyebrows.

“Of course not” I say, grabbing a pillow off the couch and chucking it in his direction. “Now go put some clothes on”

Pete laughs but listens, turning to walk down the hallway into his room.

“You really set me up for failure” I say, dropping down onto the couch near the boys.

“Or success… depends on how you see it,” Andy says with a grin.

“Then definitely failure” i quip back, “but anyway, what are you guys up to?” They delve into an explanation of whatever video game they had just started, and pete walks back into the room, appropriately clothed.

“Sorry to end the show, but I thought I should get dressed,” he says with a wink, sitting down on the couch across from us.

“Ugh I am never going to live this down am I?” I say in despair.

“Live what down?” Patrick says, coming down the stairs and nodding in my direction.

“Patrick finally! I have so much to tell you!” I say happily, standing up.

“Hey don’t change the subject, what embarrassing thing did you do today?” Patrick asks, grinning at me.

“ Walked in on Pete, completely naked” Joe fills in immediately.

“Still dripping from my shower, might I add” Pete chimes in.

“ Not much for boundaries today huh?” Patrick asks with a laugh, poking me in the sides playfully. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

“It really is not a big deal! Let’s just move on...please?” I ask.

“Aw come on, but it's so fun to tease! And double whammy- embarrassing for you and Pete” Joe laughs.

“Oh seriously, it’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before” I say quickly, not realizing.

“YN what the hell” Pete says immediately, glancing at Patrick.

“What does that mean?” Patrick says, confusedly looking in my direction, “have you seen Pete naked before?”

My eyes widen with realization, and I see Pete shaking his head in my direction. “Oh, you know. Just in past accidents, just like this one” i say feebly.

Patrick stares at me for a second. “You’re saying you’ve accidentally seen Pete completely naked….more than once?”

“Mm hmm” I say, glancing at the ground and trying to ignore Pete’s burning gaze.

Patrick looks between Pete and I, staring at me until I meet his eyes.

“You’re totally lying right now” He says, shock in his voice

“Am not” I say

“Definitely are too” Patrick says, walking over and staring directly at me. “What gives?”

I open my mouth, dreading everys second.

“YN don't,” Pete says in a warning tone.

Patrick turns to stare at him and confusion, before glancing at Andy and Joe who are watching, entertained, before turning back to look at me. I stare at the floor, unsure of how to get out of this situation.

“Oh my god will someone just say what’s going on” Patrick says in exasperation.

“Patrick,” I say calmly, “it’s not that big of a deal” I glance at Pete, who’s staring at me with intensity.

“Then just say it, what’s with all this secrecy?” Patrick says, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Fine, fine” I give in, “Pete and I slept together. No big deal”

“You what?” Patrick exclaims, immediately glaring at Pete.

“Trick, seriously, no big deal” Pete says, holding his hands up in surrender.

“No big deal??” Patrick says, almost yelling, crossing the room in seconds to where Pete is standing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He jabs Pete in the chest, turning back to glare at me.

“Patrick calm down, what the hell!” I say, shocked. I can’t remember the last time I saw Patrick so angry, let alone at me.

“The one person Pete! The one fucking person!” Patrick's yelling now. “I told you to leave her alone! She’s my best friend. What happened to off limits?” he shoves Pete in the chest.

“Woah woah woah” I yell, crossing the room and inserting myself between the two boys, both glaring at each other.

“You need to calm down dude, this doesn’t need to be a thing” Pete says, anger growing in his voice.

“What don’t you understand about off limits?” Patrick says, no longer yelling, but a voice full of anger. I can practically see his eyes flashing.

“Okay okay, sit down! Both of you!” I yell this time, and both boys snap out of it, looking at me. With one more huff, Patrick backs off and sits on the couch.

“Okay, I appreciate the protectiveness and the care, Pat, I do” I say to Patrick, pissed off. “But in no way is it okay that you told them I was “Off limits” I say with finger quotes.

“I just-” Patrick starts, looking guilty.

“No, I'm yelling now!” I say, angrily. “I know you want to protect me, but you have absolutely zero right to dictate what I do with my body, and you have no right to decide for me who I interact with!”

Patrick looks down in shame, ears turning red.

“I’m a grown ass woman, and I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, I don't need you telling me what to do. That doesn’t make you protective, it just makes you an ass”

Patrick blanches, but nods. “You’re absolutely right, I’m sorry YN”

“You should be! If i want to sleep with all of them I will, because that’s my choice, NOT yours’ I say with a pointed glare. I pause, looking around at the other guys. “To make it clear I don’t want that, just making a point” Joe and Pete chuckle.

Patrick glares at Pete quickly but looks back at me. “Im sorry YN you’re right, I just didn’t want you to get hurt”

“Well I appreciate that but i’m fine. It was a drunken fling, it happened months ago, and I’m fine. Pete’s just another guy”

“Hey!” Pete interjects. I glared at him with a this-isn't-helping stare. He looks away.

“Wait, this happened months ago?” Patrick says quietly.

“Yeah” I say, “back in the summer. After I broke up with Brian”

“So…. almost six months ago” Patrick says, hurt in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we thought you’d react like this!” I say exasperatedly.

“So you all knew?” Patrick says, looking around at the guys. They nod, albeit looking ashamed.

“Cool. really cool guys” Patrick says, irritated.

“I’m sorry Patrick” I say.

“I'm sorry too man, we just didn’t want you to freak out over nothing '' Pete says, putting a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“Over nothing?” Patrick responds angrily, staring at Pete before looking up at me, betrayal clear in his eyes. “Right”

He shrugs Pete's hand off his shoulder, standing up from the couch. He brushes past me, not even looking at me when I say his name. He marches angrily down the hallway, and I hear the back door open, and then slam.

“Well that went well” I said dryly. “ We should've just told him earlier” I cross my arms over my chest.

“That wouldn’t have helped,” Pete says. “He still would’ve been pissed”

“I don’t get what his problem is. I know he’s protective and we tell each other everything but that… what the hell was that?”

“It’s pretty obviously why he’s upset,” Pete says, looking at me and raising his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Pete says sympathetically. “Why he would be so upset you slept with me?”

“Know what?” I say, completely lost.

Pete gives me a half smile, shaking his head. “Just go talk to him. You guys will work it out, like you always do” The guys all give each other a glance, leaving me feeling like I'm missing out on insider knowledge.

“Okay…whatever ” I say suspiciously, heading down the hallway. I push open the door to the back porch and walk out.

Patrick is sitting on the steps, staring down at his hands and picking at a rock in his hand. I plop down next to him, playfully jostling him with my knee.

He sighs “What do you want YN”

“Pat seriously? Why are you so mad about this?” I say

“I’m not mad, I just…” he trails off. He chucks the rock into the yard.

“Is this all really because I slept with one of your friends? I really didn’t think it would be such a big deal”

“It’s not that, I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s just…” he trails off again, standing and rubbing his hands on his legs. “Nothing, let’s forget it”

I grab his hand to stop him from walking away. “Patrick, please, sit back down”

He does, looking over at me.

“What is it?”

He shakes his head.

“Come on it’s me, you know you can tell me anything. What’s bothering you?” I squeeze his arm..

He gives a heavy sigh, like a weight is lifting off his shoulders. “ You’ve just always been my best friend, on my side. Long before you met Pete”

“Yeah….”

“So I thought you were the one person that I would never have to worry about.” he says it quietly, and I still don’t follow.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were the one person that would never pick him over me.” he says it, and I feel my heart break in half at the sound of it.

“Patrick…” I say, trying to get him to look at me.

“Nevermind YN, it’s not a big deal. I just wish you would have told me, that’s all” he responds, slowly getting to his feet.

“No Patrick, don’t” I say, standing and grabbing his arm. “It’s not like that. I didn’t choose him over you. In fact I would never choose anyone over you”

He looks at me now, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Then why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know… I didn’t want you to think that Pete was anything more than a friend to me, because that’s all he is. A friend.”

“If you want more than that, I won’t hold you back” he practically whispers, turning to move away.

“Patrick, stop trying to walk away from this! From me!” I say, pulling his arm back.

“It’s fine YN, you’re right, I have no right to tell you what to do. And it was wrong of me to treat you like I should have a say”

“That’s true, and I appreciate you apologizing,” I say sincerely. “But there;s something you should know”

“You didn’t sleep with my brother too did you?”

I gasp, looking up in shock, until I catch the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye.

“Shut up I’m trying to be serious” I scold, although secretly relieved to hear humor back in his voice.

“I’m sorry. Seriously, I overreacted, let’s just move on” Patrick says, reaching out and squeezing my arm.

“But Patrick I really need you to believe me when I say this” I take a deep breath. He looks at me, but I can’t read the expression in his eyes.

“I would never choose anyone over you. You’re my best friend. My person. And I love you”

Patrick smiles at me “I know. I love you too. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

He tries to pull me along but I don’t move, and he looks at me for a moment in confusion.

“Patrick…” I say quietly.

“What is it?”

“I don’t mean I love you as a friend, I mean I do but…” I trail off for a second. I see Patrick’s eyes widen, and I know there’s no going back.

“Patrick,” I say, taking a deep breath, “ I mean, I would never choose anyone over you, because i’m in love with you”

I see Patrick’s eyes widen, and his eyebrows raise, but for a second he says nothing and I feel like the floor is falling out underneath my feet and my heart is in free fall.

Then he smiles, and his hand comes up to the side of my face. “Really?” he asks in a whisper.

I nod, smiling in return.

His face breaks out into a grin, and the hand on the side of my face slips around my neck and pulls my lips into his. His other hand wraps around my waist, bringing me in close as I slide my hand to the back of his head and kiss him like I’ve always wanted to.

#patrick stump #patrick stump x reader #fall out boy imagine #fall out boy #patrick stump fluff

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

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Just an Extra

Bakugou x yn

((I forced myself to finish this no matter how it turned out so I’m sorry if it’s rushed. I needed to finish something again.))

“I can’t believe Aizawa stopped the race like that”

Bakugou aggressively kicked a rock on the walk back to your homes. You just left the school pool after some training before the summer camp. “They’re not only our completion tho, they’re our friends” you say and place a hand on his shoulder to try and ease some of his tension. “I won’t let them get ahead of me! Isn’t that what being the best is?!” His whole body is tensed and his fists clenched. You softly wrap your arms around his body from the back, laying your cheek between his shoulders and your arms tight around his stomach. “Suki..” you whisper “you will be the number one hero, I know you will, but please take care of yourself. You don’t have to fight alone. You don��t have to be alone” you can feel his body relax a little and he sets his hands softly against yours on his stomach as he sighs “y/n. ..” his voice was soft and kind, something you hardly ever heard from him.

Before he can continue you hear footsteps running up behind you and you drop your arms from him and step away quickly. He glares at you “Don’t be an idiot. I know I’m not alone. there’s only one number one hero and that’s going to be me” he shouts just as Kirishima appears next to you “woah Bakugou no need to be such a dick to her” you just smile curtly and continue to walk home.

Kirishima talked the entire walk back, you all live on the same route so you walk together home, you hardly said a thing. Your home was first and so you just waved and ran inside.

It always happened like that. You’d be kind to him and he’d almost be nice back but then he’d shout in your face.

“You were amazing Bakugou!” Squeeze his hand. He whips his hand from your grasp and shouts “I’m always amazing! Idiot!”

“Katsuki are you okay?” You’d be worried and he’d waiver and almost let you hug him, before shoving you away “I’m fine, extra.”

Once when you were walking home with him, you almost went to touch his arm, almost went to say something nice to him. You knew he had a bad day. But you were tired of being yelled at by him. That’s when you learned to keep your mouth shut. To not touch him. You got to your house and you left without a word or glance. You realized then, you wouldn’t be around him anymore since he obviously didn’t like you.

You’ve been acting weird to him for a while, he’s noticed. But he’s not gonna say anything. You’ll come around again. You followed him like a lost puppy. It was so annoying. But he knew. You’d be back.

As the days went by it got easier to be around him when you had to be and you realized how nice it was to not get yelled at every day.

Whenever Kirishima wanted him around you’d be civil. But if it wasn’t for Kiri you probably wouldn’t be Katsuki’s friend anymore.

The times you could hang out alone with Kiri became some of your favorite moments. Like when you sparred with him after a workout and distracted him by kissing his cheek when he tried to put you in a hold. All of your good moments with him were easily ruined when Bakugou would come around with his anger and rudeness.

After your training you walked into the dorms to be met with a glaring look by Bakugou, mad because you were late back and he had plans with Kiri. You rolled your eyes “maybe he likes me more than you because at least I’m nice to him” you say before looking at Kirishima and completely ignoring Bakugou. “Text me?” You ask with a smile and he nods, ruffling your hair. You blush before walking away from them to go shower, still ignoring Bakugou.

This is what your relationship with Bakugou was like now. While your friendship with Kirishima progressed and was amazing. The one with Bakugou disappeared, a year later it’s basically nonexistent since you shared everything with Kirishima and he was respectful to not force you around his other friend.

“What’s her deal?” Bakugou asks when you’re gone. Kirishima rolls his eyes “you’re an idiot Bakugou. If you want to know why she doesn’t like being around you, then go ask her” Bakugou doesn’t know why he didn’t think of that before as he storms off after you, catching you in the stairwell. You always took the stairs because you were on the second floor and it didn’t seem necessary to use an elevator.

He grabs your wrist to stop you “what’s your problem?” He yells at you and you don’t even flinch as you smack him in the face with your other hand. “I don’t have problems with assholes unless they assault me. Don’t. touch. Me. Bakugou” you say and rip your hand from his grasp and begin to walk up the stairs again and he gets annoyed. He pushes past you and blocks your way. “What the fuck happened?” His voice is quieter now even though he’s still fuming, his cheek turning red from your slap.

You were exhausted, to be honest, you felt exasperated and like you don’t care anymore, you just want to go to your room. “Katsuki Bakugou” you chuckle “It should be obvious, shouldn’t it? I didn’t think that the future number one hero would be this dense.” You mocked him and he growled.

You didn’t want to have this conversation now. You were too worked up. But you knew he wouldn’t let it go. “I saw only good in you. I thought you were someone i could trust. And I tried so hard. But you took that and crumbled it beneath your feet on your way to the top. So if you wanna treat me like garbage, take me for granted, yell at me, belittle me, I’m not going to be in your life anymore. You don’t deserve me wasting my energy on you when you only see me as an extra. But Kirishima,” you point in his direction “that guy is so kind and so caring. I don’t know how he does it. He makes me feel like he actually wants to be my friend. I hug him and he hugs me back. He makes me laugh. I don’t have to second guess anything I do with him. I can trust him. I can’t trust you. So. This is me being your extra.” you push past him and run the few steps up to the door and leave him behind in the stairwell.

A short while later you got a text from Kirishima

Kiri- “what did you say to Bakugou?”

You-“I was honest”

Kiri-“he’s acting strange”

You-“Kiri can we talk about it later? Also, will you come to my room later before curfew?”

Kiri-“sure. Why?”

You-“I need a hug”

After that you threw your phone on your bed and went to the showers.

As much as you thought you got over it, you didn’t. You still admired Bakugou. But it’s hard when the person who you admire treats you terrible. It was time to be done with it. You showered, you cried in the shower, then you picked yourself back up and headed to your room.

After studying and watching some tiktoks you get another text from Kirishima

Kiri- “have you eaten dinner?”

You-“ummm”

Kiri-“say less”

After a few minutes there’s a knock at your door and you open it, expecting to find Kirishima, but instead it’s a shy looking Bakugou with a sack of your favorite snacks, some take out, and some ice cream. You invite him in and he sets the bags down on your desk. “What’s going on?” You ask quietly and he clears his throat “I’m sorry” your heart flutters “what was that? I didn’t hear you” you step closer to him and put your hand to your ear. He quickly but softly snatches your hand and you gasp in shock at his facial expression. An expression you never saw him wear, guilt.

“Listen y/n. I’m sorry. I treated you like you weren’t important to me. But I’ve missed you so much” his voice is quiet, cracking at the end. What was happening? You were so shocked and speechless as he continues . “Every time you leave my stomach feels like there is a brick in it. I miss you. I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your friendship. I don’t deserve anything from you. I was stupid. I am stupid. Please give me another chance” you’re staring at his face as he looks sheepishly at his hand that’s still holding yours. “It’s been a year” you whisper and he nods “I know” his voice is soft “why now? Is kirishima making you do this?” You’re not angry anymore. You can see how he’s changed because he’d never dream of apologizing to anyone before. “No he’s not making me do shit” he says gruffly and then sighs and looks into your eyes as he continues “I know I really messed up but I’d hate myself if I never tried to fix what I ruined” he’s being honest, you realize, and can’t help but throw your arms around him and hug him, laying your head on his chest as you hold him tight. After a few moments of shock he returns your hug, holding you tight to his chest and he lays his cheek against the top of your head.

“Im not letting you off easy so don’t think that” you say trying to sound stern and you hear a low chuckle from his chest “I know we’ve both changed this last year y/n. I’m just happy you’ll let me have a chance to get to know you again” he says and runs his fingers through your hair.

“The ice cream!” You yell and then pull back and grab it from the bag “do you want some?” You turn to him and hold it up with a smile and he blushes at how cute you looked. “Come on now, eat some dinner first. I got you your favorite from that place we used to like” you gasp and hurry, putting the ice cream in your small bedroom fridge before grabbing his hand and the food bags, pulling him to your bed with you. If he wanted to get to know you again you’ll start right now. He knew he’d not get another chance after this so he’ll make sure not to mess it up this time. You shove a huge bite in your mouth and moan as you chew. It was so good and you haven’t eaten it in so long.

You look up into his eyes as he sits at the edge of your bed “Way I’m don’t -ting” you say through another big bite and he chuckles softly. You swallow before trying to speak again “when I’m done eating” you poke your utensil at him “we’re going to eat that ice cream and talk about everything, what happened, how you hurt me, why you did it. All of it. That’s how we’re going to get over this. That’s how we’re going to move forward.” He nods “Okay” he has a small smile his lips and you nod once “good. You want some?” You offer him a bite and he nods “so bad. I was so nervous to talk to you I haven’t eaten anything” he takes the bite you offer him and you shake your head. A little amused at him. “you dummy. You need to eat. You work harder than everyone” you say and then take a few more big bites before handing the container to him “finish what you want from it, you know I never finish a full plate” he chuckles. “True” he says and nods, taking it from you “thank you y/n” he says, he knows the conversation ahead will be hard, but he feels relieved that you’ll let him in again.

#mha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha katsuki #bakugou katsuki fanfiction #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n

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lollybliz · 5 years ago

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bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights. Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm. “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

#fic rec #bnha #mha #tododeku #todobakudeku #kiribaku #shinkami #shindeku #erasermic #To Be Continued

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one-spidey-boii · 5 years ago

Text

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch six

read ch five here

masterlist

an; heyo everyone. online schooling is kicking my ass, my cat doesn’t like me anymore, and i keep sleeping until 3pm. no worries tho, cause yesterday i got some starbursts. let me know what you think of this chapter! hearing your feedback is super encouraging :)

**italics indicate flashback**

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.7k+

peter's pov

my blood runs cold as soon as the weight of edie's body falls into mine. her limbs are limp and heavy, making it awkward to keep her steady as i gather her in my arms. everything around me is buzzing. every noise is drowned out by the pounding in my ears, the drumming of my heart beat in my chest.

"oh- oh my god. edie." i rush out with a shaky breath as her eyes struggle to stay open, "look at me, please. please keep looking at me, okay? don't close your eyes." i plead.

she gazes up at me, more like through me, as her head lolls against my chest. i pull her into me and lift her off the ground. i try to control my breathing, knowing how i handle these next few minutes will mean more than anything i've ever done before.

edie's eyes wander around the hallway and i make my way to the medical room with bounding strides. she lets out an occasional whimper when i jostle her too much and my stomach drops every time.

when there, i flip the light switch on and take in the room around me. i've never needed to be here before, making me wish every wound i ever endured had landed me in here- just so i can take better care of the girl in my arms.

i move over to one of the two empty beds that resembles those you would find at a hospital and place her down softly. she stares up at the ceiling, her eyelids grow weaker and heavier as time passes. i bite my bottom lip and grab at my hair. i really don't know what i'm doing.

"my side, pete. 'm hurts." she whispers and rolls her head so that she's looking at me now.

i swallow my fear and put up a strong facade for her, "i know, e. just keep looking at me. can you do that?"

edie just barely nods her head and her eyes follow me as i gather the right supplies to address the source of the bleeding. my hands fumble around as i set everything on the cart next to her bed.

"e, im gonna have to take your suit off, okay? i have to get to your side to stop the bleeding." my voice can't help but shake as i mutter the words to her. she just stares back at me with misty eyes that hold no objections.

"m'kay, jus' press the button." edie instructs, her lips parting as her breaths become softer and weaker. with that, i search for the emblem on her wrist and press it lightly. her suit expands and hangs loosely around her frame. i hesitantly begin pulling it down her shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief when i see the dark purple bra covering her chest.

finally able to get a good look at her side, i try to hold back a gasp. along the length of her torso, a gash runs from just under her ribs on her back all the way to her hip bone in the front. no longer being compressed by the suit, the bleeding gushes faster.

i look over at the supplies i’ve gathered and realize none of it will be much help. this is so much worse than i originally thought. i finally move my eyes from the wound and scan the room once again. so many machines that i have no idea how to operate just stare back at me, taunting me as i stand here helpless.

a hand clasps around my own. edie stares up at me with pleading eyes, small whimpers leaving her lips. i hold back a sob as i squeeze her hand back and reach for my cell phone.

the phone rings three times before he picks up, i don't breath until then.

"hello?"

my words are caught in my throat. "uh, m-mr. stark, i need help. edie's hurt and she must have gotten stabbed or something and there's so much blood and i-i don't know what to do or—"

his voice cuts me off, remaining calm and stern, "are you putting pressure on the wound?"

i let go of edie's hand and grab the gauze from the cart, moving to follow orders. "y-yes, sir."

"peter, you need to go to the back right corner and in the first drawer is a device that looks like a pen. grab it and hold it over the wound. press the side button and let it do its thing." mr. stark explains everything to me slowly. i do as he says, grabbing the small device and removing the now bloodied gauze from edie's side.

as i click the side, a blue light emerges from the tip, analyzing the wound before a cluster of lasers move over the length of it. slowly but surely the horrific gash starts mending before my eyes. i grab edie's hand and squeeze. after a few seconds, i feel the gentle press of her fingers against mine.

"everything okay, kid? give me an update here." tony says into the phone i had put down to tend to my best friend.

"yes, mr. stark." i call out.

edie's eyes flutter to meet mine. they're glassy and wet, unshed tears sitting on the brim of her lower lids. i glance at the healing device, taking notice that it has turned off automatically after it finished its job. i shakily put it down and latch onto edie's hand with both of mine.

"hey. hey, there," i whisper to her. she smiles weakly and closes her eyes, finally letting a single tear slide down her flushed cheeks, "you're okay now, yeah? how do you feel?"

she just squeezes my hand one more time before her body releases all the tension it's holding and she falls unconscious.

"peter, what the hell happened?" i jump when mr. stark's voice sounds from the phone again. hesitantly, i move edie's hand to her side and cover her almost naked chest with the blanket draped at the foot of the bed.

i pick up the phone and take a deep breath before giving an answer.

"i-i don't know, sir."

edie's pov

i never realized how often i put myself in danger. when i go out into the city at night, the thought rarely crosses my mind. it was only when i was face to face with the possibility i wouldn't make it home that night, that's when i realized what wearing a suit really entails.

before i even open my eyes, i'm aware of how cold the air feels around me. it bites into my cheeks and the tip of my nose, making me wiggle it uncomfortably. i can tell i'm not alone too. i hear soft breathing come from a few feet away, the source is asleep from what i can tell. finally, i open my eyes.

my heart swells at the sight of peter sprawled out along the hospital bed next to mine. he lays on his stomach, one hand draping over the side of the bed as his other supports his head. i keep my eyes on his peaceful face- and suddenly i find myself fighting the urge to wrap my fingers around his and hold his hand. i lift my hand away from the side of the bed and i gasp at the pain that shoots from my ribs to my hip.

it's excruciating. my skin feels hot and the red flash of pain brings tears to my eyes. slowly, i move my hand to the blanket covering my torso and push it aside. i raise my head slowly to see a horrible looking scar stretched along my side. it's red and angry and makes me sick to my stomach. i fight to keep a sob from escaping my lips, but the sight of the wound makes it nearly impossible. i let out a whimper and the events of the night before replay in my head.

i stay close to the dark alleyways of the city. my lack of web-slinging and flying makes it difficult to remain discreet, but sticking to the alleyways where most of the crimes take place seems to work well for me. the streets become quiet after rush hour hits and the city is lacking its usual light atmosphere. i've been walking for a while and have yet to find anyone who needs help.

once one am rolls around, i stumble upon a younger couple arguing a few meters down the alley. the man is shouting and seems to tower over the girl. she's scared, that i can tell, but something about her seems tough and hard to crack. i hide behind the corner and bend down to wrap my fingers around the knife in my left boot, ready to make a move if necessary.

the man begins backing the girl up against the wall and making large gestures with his hands. he must've said something the girl didn't like because she takes her hand and brings it down across his face with a sharp crack. he stumble back, hand to his cheek. i tense when he looks back at the girl and growls at her like an animal.

as he raises his hand to hit her, i jump from around the building and sprint in their direction. i manage to grab hold of the man's fist before he brings it down to meet the girls' face. his head snaps in my direction and his attention is suddenly on me. i shoot a quick glance at the girl, pleading with my eyes for her to run.

"mind your business, lady." the man hisses through clenched teeth. i hold my ground, focusing on keeping his attention on me so the girl has a chance of getting away. "are you gonna say anything? or just stand there?" he continues. when i don't answer again, he lunges at me.

quickly dodging his attempt at an attack, i slash my knife along his forearm. he gasps and grabs at his now bleeding arm, holding it to his chest. i sneak one more glance at the girl and let out a sigh of relief to see she has fled the scene. the man makes another move and runs towards me. i grab his injured arm and spin him around to face the nearest wall. with all my strength, i push him against the bricks and hold him there while digging my fingers into his cut flesh.

"let's see how you like it, huh, tough guy?" i speak from behind him. he rests his forehead against the brick wall and begins to laugh. it’s a horrible sound. the noise is surprising and unsettling, but i do my best to remain present for the task at hand. i open my mouth to speak again, but all the comes out is a muffled yell as i feel something sharp tear into my side. my grip weakens and the man slides away as i crash forward into the wall.

it feels like someone has tried to sever my body into two pieces. the pain completely overtakes my senses and i no longer have any control. my glassy eyes move to see the man standing behind me, still clutching his arm. next to him is the girl from before, holding a gnarly looking hunting knife by her side. blood drips from the tip of it onto the concrete below. my blood.

the girl comes towards me and kneels next to me on the ground. i stare into her eyes with numb shock, so thrown off by her actions. she smiles at me. a wide, bright white smile that takes up half of her face. she grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me towards her.

"see what happens when you try to help people? maybe some people just don't need help from someone like you. go along, try getting back to your secret hideout with this, little girl." her words mean nothing as soon as she pushes me onto my back and delivers one heavy kick into my side, leaving me breathless as she and the man turn to walk away.

images keep flying through my head as i stare down at the scar. i can't look away. this thing is a part of me now and i can't bring myself to terms with it yet, not that i expect it to ever be easy. i slowly move back down until my head hits the pillow. i stretch one hand towards peter as the other one falls along the marred skin of my side. my fingers are just centimeters away from peters limp hand, i try to close the distance but fail as shots of fire emerge from my side.

hopeless and in pain, i finally let a wet sob leave my lips. i squeeze my eyes shut and let all the failure and defeat roll along with my tears. it's embarrassing. i take pride in myself for being a trained fighter both physically and mentally. yet, i had been so blindsided by the situation and it came back to get me, leaving me with a scar to remember it.

clammy fingers meet mine and squeeze tightly. i roll my head to the side and see peter kneeling next to the bed. his eyes are soft and tired. seeing his face makes me cry even harder with both relief and sadness. peter parker is here for me, holding my hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb as i cry and cry and cry.

eventually, i have nothing left but empty sobs and quiet whimpers. peter has moved closer, his head resting atop of mine as he places soft kisses in my hair. it's intoxicating and warm and i want him to do it for hours on end, but i need to get myself together. as scared as i am right now, i know he is even more so.

"help me sit up, peter, please." i more demand than ask. he obliges and wraps one arm around my shoulders and the other continues to hold onto my hand. i bite my lip to hold in any sounds of protest as my body shutters and writhes against the unwanted movement.

"i need to call mr. stark and tell him what happened. you need to know too." i whisper.

"maybe you just need to rest a little while longer-" peter tries to say.

"no. just... please find my phone." i plead. with a hesitant nod, peter rummages around the floor and comes back up with my phone. he dials mr. stark's number and sets it on speaker.

as it rings, i look over at peter again. he’s sitting on the edge of the other bed, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. i take notice of the empty feeling in my hand. "peter, just listen as i tell mr. stark. i doubt i'll be able to tell it more than once."

the ringing stops and tony starks' voice booms through the speaker.

"edie? are you okay?"

i let out a breath of air i didn't know i was holding, "mr. stark. i-i'm okay." i say weaker than i want to.

"what the hell happened, wolfie?" he asks, almost in a whisper, his voice is laced with sadness and worry.

with that, i tell him. i explain every little detail as best i can. peter lets out a tiny gasp when i get to the part about being stabbed, which makes me glance in his direction. he won't meet my eyes.

mr. stark doesn't say a word until i'm finished.

"im sending happy over. no, yanno what? i'll come myself." my eyes widen at his words. i immediately want to protest, but he wouldn't have it.

"i'll be there in four hours." he says and ends the call. peter and i finally make eye contact. the tired look in his eyes is still there, now laced with sadness and something else. i can't let either of us be sad for much longer. that's not what i want at all.

conjuring up my best smile, i speak with a chipper voice that only cracks once, "well, parker, looks like the boss man is coming home. we better make this place look presentable."

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist. hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)fvgggggg

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lordseochangbin · 5 years ago

Note

Do you think you could write a rich kid!reader x pool cleaner hyunjin smut?? I just thought of the idea and my legs immediately felt like jelly dndkddkdk

not the only thing that’s wet- hhj

a/n: so this came out longer than expected sksk. also i wanted to add some humor(not even sure if it’s funny) but just know anything said abt the members is fictional lmfaoo. hope you enjoy !

——

“i swear to god.. i just need some fucking hot ass man to take my virginity! like how hard is it?? im rich, im sexy, im pretty?? now how hard is it to find a guy?!” you ranted out to your friends ruby and lea.

the two girls watched you pace around the room, “y/n, how about we make a list?!” lea suggested.

you turned around in excitement, “a list?! hmm throw out some names”

lea took out her phone, the three of you left to think about some of the finest men at your school.

“bang chan” lea threw out.

“oh my god no! he’s too much, i heard he fucked this girl till she cummed 7 times” ruby said

“7 TIMES?!” you and lea exclaimed. fuck, bang chan. you could only imagine dating him, but maybe not for a first time.

“ok... kim seungmin?” lea threw out.

“you mean small dick?” ruby retorted.

“how do you know that?” you asked ruby, actually curious. you received quite the obvious laugh in response, as if ruby was taken way back to when she was once in love with one of the cutest boys in the academy.

you pushed your custom made louie vuitton purse to the side, making room to sit down and contemplate about any other guy at your school.

“how about han jisung??” lea suggested once more.

ruby covered her mouth in shock, “oh no no no, that guy is too kind to just fuck around. plus i called dibs on him awhile ago”

you and lea kept eye contact, dropping your head in disappointment as another guy was crossed off the list.

“ruby.. who do you think would best suit for me?”

ruby looked up to the roof, her mind elsewhere as it always seemed to be. you loved ruby and lea, growing up with the two girls being honestly the biggest blessing you could ask for. but ruby was of a different character. one day she’d talk about the ingredients in a mcnugget and the next she’d be rambling about how pink is a sexy color for lingerie. lea and you seemed to be the closest however, she was always there for you no matter what and you loved her more than anything.

“i say.. lets go online and find some random stranger to set you up with. boom. we’ll pay him and just hope and pray that he’s some hot 18 y/o” ruby replied, putting her hands together to “pray” to the lord(seo changbin)

“ruby...” lea pushed her a little so she could snap out of her position, “that’s a terrible idea” the three of you bursted into laughter

when the laughing died down, you got up from your seat shrugging your shoulders as your walked out to your clear glass windows. “but guys, i really don’t know. should i just wait? i am ‘daddys rich little angel’ anyways” you replied sarcastically.

lea rolled her eyes, grabbing your ray banz glasses and throwing them on you. “cheer up okay? we’re gonna make this happen i swear”

ruby popped up on your right, grabbing your hand and petting it. “don’t worry, god gave us one life, and we should live it with faith. faith that we will live to see a wet pen-”

“RUBY-” lea interrupted.

“it’s alright guys” you patted both of their shoulders, “it’s not like some attractive guy is just gonna show up out of nowhere”

you smiled at the two girls who did an amazing job of cheering you up before opening the glass doors to the patio of your mansion home. taking a few steps outside, you noticed a white truck pull into the driveway. your dad waiting by the pool as a boy wearing simply a white tee, blue ripped jeans, and sport shoes came out.

“holy shit” lea cursed under her breath

all three of your jaws dropped as the boy walked towards your father, a hand brushing through his luscious black hair as the wind passed by him with perfect timing.

you lowered down your expensive glasses to get a better look of him, “now who may this fine fellow be”

ruby smirked, “i bet his weewee is the size of-”

“ruby, what is up with you and dicks today i swear to god” lea questioned, all attention that was once on the pretty boy now concerned for your friend

“im sorryyy” ruby sarcastically replied, “i just know a good one when i see one” she said, sending a wink your way.

“who is he?” lea asked as you watched your dad point at the pool

“how much you wanna bet he’s some rich guys son who’s complimenting his pool right now?” ruby asked

“none.. look at his hands. cleaning supplies” you replied.

“y/n!! that fine ass man... he’s your pool cleaner” lea called out to your attention.

————

your dad knocked on the door before welcoming himself in. “hey girls, im off to a meeting. do you need money for lunch?”

“no that’s alright, they were just leaving” you replied

“we were?” ruby replied. you turned around to give ruby the death stare before ruby could continue, “oh yes!! we are QUITE busy mr.y/l/n!”

“i see...” you father responded, “ well y/n if you’re home alone i just want to let you know that there’s a pool cleaner outside working. im off”

your dad closed the door before you could drop the blanket you covered yourself with. “that was close” lea responded from behind you as you threw on a robe to cover up your swimming suit.

“so close.. now should i try this out?”

“go for it, we’re upstairs if you need us” lea said, joining ruby on your bed and turning on the tv. you took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to talk to the boy and eventually finding yourself in front of him speechless.

“hey... were you planning on going in the pool?” he asked, puppy eyes almost shining under the summer sun as he looked at you apologetically, “im cleaning it right now but you can dip your feet at the least” he suggested.

you found yourself awestruck at how handsome he was.. his arms, his jet black hair, his perfect jawline, and the way his white tee stuck to his washboard abs.

“yeah.. sure” you managed to let out in a shaky voice.

the boy continued with his business despite your arrival, making your frustrated due to lack of discussion. minutes seemed to pass quickly and it made you impatient.

“so what do you find attractive in a girl?” you asked, turning to the boy

he rose his eyebrows at the sudden interrogation. “a girl.. hmm. maybe a girl who’s a tease? likes to flirt? sexy?” he laughed as he threw a towel over his shoulder

“hmm..” you hummed to yourself, kicking your feet in the water. “and what’s your name?”

“my name? i think i told your dad already, it’s hyunjin”

from there, your two friends were able to finish two films, curious about your whereabouts but scared to check outside knowing your intentions. but that wasn’t the real reason you two took so long, once the conversation started to speed up you’d learned that hyunjin was a college student trying to make extra cash to pay off his tuition by cleaning pools. he sat down as well, his jeans rolled up so his feet were kicking beside yours.

“so hyunjin... like you said. you like girls that are attractive, sexy, and flirty?” you asked

“why? you think you have all three of those? maybe you hit attractive and sexy at the least” he replied, earning a splash of water to his face.

“stop! your gonna get my hair wet” he replied, laughed at your sudden lash of anger

“im sure your hair isn’t the only thing that’s wet” you replied, placing a hand on his knee. the sudden affection made his plush lips part, a perfect situation for you to jump on his lap. and that’s exactly what you did

“y/n” he moaned as your lips clashed together with his. your legs found themselves wrapped around his, your position slowly making your robe tie loosen and revealing a pretty red swimsuit inside.

“do you find me attractive now?” you whispered into his ear as you tugged onto his hair, exposing the pretty surface of his neck to place kisses on

“so fucking sexy y/n.. please” he muttered as you left marks on his flawless skin

his hands wrapped themselves around your waist before you two could slip into the pool.

“shit- y/n im so sorry” he said as carried you to the seated area of the pool before combing his wet locks with his fingers

“its okay” you gasped in relief, catching your breath as you sat on his lap again.

hyunjin smirked as you slowly removed the robe, making him pull off his shirt to pull you closer

“now look at us babygirl, a pretty wet mess” he said, pushing a piece of stranded hair to the side before places kisses down your neck. he left marks from your jaw to your chest, throwing the swimsuit off as his fingers toyed with each nipple. your hands tugged at his wet jeans as he slowly pulled them off, leaving you both with nothing- just as you had planned.

you wrapped your hands around hyunjins neck, rolling your hips against his member as sinful moans left his lips. soon you felt his member stretch passed your wet folds making you dig your nails into his pure skin

“y/n... we just met today and you’re making me-”

you bit his bottom lip making him whimper. the friction was hard to handle even when you were underwater, the water made it easy for hyunjin to pull in and out of your pussy at rapid pace.

god, was this amazing. especially considering it was your first time and you needed it to be as easy as it could get. you blessed whatever deity up there for making such a handsome man like hyunjin and for making him a pool cleaner out of all things, sex in your pool was so much more hotter (ironically) than it seemed.

and at last, when you were ready to release you let you let go of hyunjins lips. “this feeling...” you whispered, “hyunjin i think im gonna cum” hyunjin grabbed your waists with a tight grip, making you bounce up and down on his member at an unbelievably fast pace.

“let’s cum together baby” he said, pushing you into a deep kiss

and before you knew it you were coming inside him, your first experience not ending just there as he reached his high slowly after

“hyunjin”you panted, grabbing your robe from behind him.

“thank you” you continued, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“you planned this all along huh? to prove you were sexy, i love it” hyunjin replied, grabbing your robe and throwing it somewhere far away.

your ass rested on his cock as he felt your legs wrap tighter around him “if you’re really thankful, then let’s just stay like this?” he asked

“deal” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder as you feel asleep in the lukewarm water.

#wow this was longer than expected #this concept omg #shitty ending oops #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #stray kids hyunjin smut #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids smut #skz smut #hwanghyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids suggestive #skz suggestive #stray kids imagines

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ilguna · 4 years ago

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i also have a list of shit my history teacher (this year) has said and done so I will share it with you:

warning: its really fucking long bc he would say/do shit MULTIPLE times a day

goes onto the next slide, “it’s a meme, get it?” proceeds to explain the meme (its the hey arnold meme with the first)

also goes onto another slide, with the twitter opinion meme. at the end of the paragraph it says “this class smacks, I’m lit”

“I’m going to beat up your brother. i am going to pummel him.”

On the 6th day of class he finally realized that there was a total of 6 guys and the rest were girls

student: “You should not put it in (as an assingment)”. teacher; “laugh out loud, im dead”

he was teaching us how to write a DBQ, the computer had a pop up saying that the battery was low, and then a spider shows up out of fucking nowhere, hanging from the ceiling. he CLAPS it, jokes about eating it, and then sets it on his desk (not in the trash can 2 feet away) so he can “deal with it later”

his endless military stories, specifically ORANGE DESERT

he wrote “if you would have had your thinking skull on” on my first DBQ

him saying “I hate this” after typing a word wrong multiple times while teaching us DBQ’s lmfao

“For the lols”

Threw a box of tissues across the room into the trash can

threw a box of tissues at a student

he had this obsession with throwing expo markers at his whiteboard, trying to make it land on the metal part so expect that a lot.

“Do you want me to drown him in a bathtub?” (which was about a student’s dog that had separation anxiety lmaoo)

Sang the rain drop, drop top song

The collars on his shirt turned up

“He’ll be beaten for that distraction” (after his son called him during his lesson and he willingly answered)

“Stay woke”

“It was a hot boy summer for him”

expo marker landed on the metal thing for once thanks to a towel that was there

kyle (it must have been a story or something i dont remember)

He woah’d at some point

HAHA so there was a kid in my class that had got caught with a bong on the second week of school and he was suspended. when he came back to class, we were going over what the south grew in the U.S. very early on into colonization. and he used the bong kid as an example of a tobacco farmer

tried to eat a balled up paper

“important revolutionary war stuff”

“My bae, George Washington”

“They could’ve killed g-dubz, but they didn’t”

called george washington “g-dubz” frequiently

“Facts”

“Swagtastic”

he got excited over a military general (baron friedrich von steuben) for being a gay military general--”That was very well respected!”

“He had a ton of swagger”--referring to ben franklin

“His nickname was the swamp fox. You guys can call me that”

The snowball fight story--his brother was friends with a kid he hated next door. my teacher challenged the kid--Eric--to a snowball fight. In preparation, my teacher had froze snowballs, and so when he did have the fight, he LITERALLY knocked Eric out and left him on the front lawn unconscious (he was an elementary school kid)

one time he gave us the punishment quiz by accident, tried to make up for it by giving everyone the answer to #6. however, it turned out to be wrong so he just gave us all 100′s instead

another military story of the goat he bought from an old man with his buddies. unfortunately they had to kill the goat to eat, but the FACT that my teacher said this “a cute little goat--you know, baaa?” as if we didn’t know what a goat was

He was the golf/hockey coach!! so not only would he talk about beating up the kids in the golf club

he would also do random golf swings all the goddamn time! with no gold club or ball, it was just air.

“You are about to get clowned, young lady”

pronounced pamphlet as pamplet fora good part of his teaching career (another story he told us)

“It’s definitely not the declaration of independence you mouth breather!”

George washington = bae on a powerpoint

“you tied me up real good”

“France also popped off”

Compares the Connecticut compromise to ppap (with the song and everything!)

Told someone to shut up after they suggested that Iowa was the least populated state (he’s from Iowa)

hick iowa, to be exact

Wrote 23 as 32, realized his mistake and said “oop im dyslexic”

“If it’s a purge, I’m killing everybody”

“Federalism, not onion!’

“Who’s the dumbass guy? Ducey!” (our state governor)

he got arrested once. his mugshot is on google images and everything

he got arrested bc some guy was destroying his house w a baseball bat at a party his friendw as throwing (but it was at my teachers house). my teacher respectfully punched him and brought him to the front lawn. called the cops when the guy wouldnt leave and ended up being arrested too. teacher thought his career was over and threatened the guy the entire way to the police station

“laugh out loud!”

“We beat the begeezus out of a bunch of british people”

pronounced wolf as woof

“Who was his daddy? Who’s his daddy?”

Called a swim cap a bonnet

“Kick!”--then proceeds to kick a tennis ball. before that he had just thrown it to get out of his way

“Jesus, you’re a big boy”

for like 2 weeks straight he used that same tennis ball to try and erase a whiteboard. and im not talking rubbing it on the board, he fucking threw it at the wall, getting it off little by little. he eventually gave up, though

“I’ll snot rocket into the trash can”

“Cause I realize most of you are morons”

was obsessed with the cowboy boogie

“Every time I cough, my tail bone hurts”

“Do i look normal?”

“I look like an old man”

“Shut up your faces”

“I see you back there, queen”

“Some of you girls need to learn from this article”--the article was old & about girls being submissive

“that would hurt some people’s feelings, but I’m not gonna show it hurt mine”

“He’s just--’meow’”--about his cat

he had a sweater that had his face on it, photoshopped over a boxer that a student gave him. he wore it during winter

flicked a tennis ball across the room with a hockey stick. hit the coffee thermo on his desk, stared for a couple of seconds, and THEN realized that it was open

First off, all you kids making memes about dodging the draft--we don’t want your dumbasses anyway” --continued to rant for a few minutes after that

he HATED the national anthem with a burning passion

“I’m old as shit”

also, his cat’s name IS meow cat

more expo marker throwing

“Hey there handsome”-- to the teacher next door

“Henry clay is going to haunt you until april” (unfortunately we didnt make it that far into the school year bc of covid. disappointed that i didnt get to be haunted)

Singing electric avenue

“but here’s the tea”

“Flagstaff is like--” *reaches as high as he can to put expo marker on the wall

“I’m adopting all of you, and we’re moving to saudi arabia”

teacher: “I’m gonna break bowers kneecaps in front of you. you still want to be on strike?” not bowers but a different kid: “no...?”

Cleaned the shades in the middle of him explaining something

“You know your pinky toe? this little roast beef?”

THE TURTLE SOUP STORY. when my teacher was still a kid, he found a turtle in the wild, and brought it to his grandparents house (they owned a farm). he took care of the turtle for a while, even after his grandfather found out. until one day he came home and saw blood everywhere, went to find the turtle to see it was gone. then found his grandfather chopping up the fucking turtle so they could have it for soup for dinner. his grandfather literally made him fatten up the turtle so they could eat it

“Did mr.*****--?” (referring to himself in 3rd person, also blocked out to protect privacy)

“i’m going to staple your nostrils closed. staple, staple. ‘I can’t breathe mr.*****!’ should’ve done your DBQ!!”

his pedo stache

stood with a paper and smiled, thinking that a student was taking a picture of him when it was really the paper

doesn’t know who gaston is???

him: “I’m going to staple your noses together. One staple” Student: “*****’s piercing parlor!”

*singing* “beauty and the beast”

“I’m going to tackle you”

more random golf swinging

“What’s up (my name)?” me: hi *he then hits the bun on the top of my head on his way in the door*

And he did it again the next day

he literally made kids compete with pastries

which reminds me, he brought donuts in 2 days in a row like a week after that and make us (his first hour) take bites bc he realized he didn’t want to eat it. one of the girls was glad to take it from him, everyone else told him no

“Good morning (my name) how are you?” me: “I’m sick again... do you need help? (with the door)” him; “Actually, yes” (normally he can open the door even when his hands are full but there was a stack of pop tart boxes that were as tall as him so) i opened the door, he goes in and says, “thank you (my name), for not being rude”

the following quotes are for the Hot Seat

Student: “what do you do--?” him: “you’re in the hot seat!”

“Some people cry”

“La *****, luxurious”

“You sit here, and you stare (into the projector light)”

basically everyone in the class had to answer a question as a review. there was a stool in front of the smartboard, perfectly placed so that the projector light would LITERALLy be in your eyes. i actually got the question right on some miracle.

“2 points of weed?”

“Can I get some of that hot leaf?”

“They will make more drugs! You can’t do that much drug!”

“You guys bullied me and stole it”

“Whole rest of the nation sucked an egg”

“Whelp, let’s just kill myself”

“Do you guys know david chapel?” *sigh when everyone says no*

*some girls singing the national anthem* Him: “no! none of this, none of this!”

“Calibri’s for idiots” (the font)

“The only thing that was in--shit”

“and uncle sam--gettin lit”

“Their daddy--UH--”

“They’re going to blame the jews--my people” (he got a dna test done, he’s not actually jewish)

“Whatever you say, boomer”

“Use my words to plagiarize in college”

“I’m jewish, that’s offensive”

“Tell him he gave me instant cancer”

Me: “can i go to the bathroom?” him: “I’ll allow it”

him: “He’s antisemetic and it hurts my feelings” student: “what does that mean again?” him: “Hates jews :(”

“You guys can call me kingfish if you’d like”

~ after we said no to the nicknames, we tried to make one for him ~

student: “cornhusker!” him: “no, that’s offensive... and it’s also nebraska”

student: “corn picker!” him: “no--that sounds like a racist term or something”

“Unless corona really does take over--” (thank u, mr. for ruining the school year”

Student: “how old was she (his mom) when she had you?” him: “thirteen”

“My mom just turned 40 the other day...” (a joke)

him: “My brother got t-boned by a semi truck last night” Student: “Why are you laughing?” him: “Because he lived.”

“Yeah bc I would hide out in a public school with 300 new kids a year” (about him not living in iowa so he’s hiding out in az to get away from his “criminal record” (refer to the 1 time hes been arrested))

“Baby death?”

“Their family has more money than jesus”

*Standing outside the door yelling “CORONA” to students walking in”

“Hey I’m *****, f-word, blah, blah”

“We should fight our cats.”

“OH that’s a big chonk cat.”

“Mortal Kombat is pretty cool. I haven’t played in 25 years”

he told us in class once that we shouldnt open the front door if cops show up at a party. just to shut the blinds and be a little quieter bc the cops cant legally open the door

also one time he had a gun pointed to his face but he never finished that story bc he never liked it

during quarantine he set a DBQ as 1000 points (and i still didnt do it)

and “Here’s the tea, kiddos!”

honorable mentions: all the time he’s sent out emails bc theyre fucking hilarious

#ilguna #high school #gen z

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youngmistressofchopchop · 4 years ago

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I did it. Now I dont write, I draw so this is not gonna be so good. Its been through many revisions and I realized I spelt "Yuseke" as "Yueske the entire time so forgive me ill fix that next chapter. My Kuwabara x oc story:

It was finally cold again. Miyoko was overjoyed, she had never liked summer. Sure there was no school and she had more time with friends, but she couldn't stand the heat. She detested those sweaty nights, or how the bugs always bothered her, actually she didnt care for any part of summer.

Miyoko had dropped so many hints over the years and yet somehow, Kuwabara still had no clue. His air-headed-ness was cute, but it made things difficult for the shy girl Miyoko was. She just couldn't work up the nerve to say something, and when she did, something would always interrupt her. However, today she planned to change that! Miyoko got dressed up as cozy as she could, ready for what her and her friends had planned and with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, she headed out the door.

That was apart from going to see her crush, Kazuma Kuwabara's baseball games, he would play every summer. When they were younger, he played in an official team wearing his "Mötor Head" jersey and smoking every opposing team he played against. Miyoko never missed a single game! Every home run, every strike, and every fight that broke out because of a bad call, she was there. When they got older, she would be there to watch him play against his friends, still wearing that jersey. She was always supportive of him, she was madly in love with him, and had been for awhile.

"Urameshi!! Where do you think you're going?? I was talking to you!" Kuwabara's feet hit the sidewalk with force as he sprinted after Yueske, who had walked only a few feet, forcing Kuwabara to stop abruptly frantically trying to steady himself without falling. After regaining balance, Kuwabara grabed a fists full of his friend's jacket to pull him close aggressively.

"D-Dont tell anyone! Or I'll break your mouth, so you cant tell anyone nothin' ever again!!" Kuwabara's face was as red as the setting sun. Unfazed, Yuseke stared at Kuwabara blankly for a short second before sighing and shrugging the big flustered fool off of him.

"Listen man, I wont say anything. But this is getting really annoying. Ive told you before that you should just go through with it. Whats your problem with admitting to her anyways?" Yuseke looked to the helpless man and immediately regretted asking. Kuwabara looked off dramatically twords the orange and red sky. His shoulders slouched, slumping over, and fiddling with his hands.

"I....Shes really pretty, ya know? And...Im well...ya know?" His voice trailed off, as if wanting reassurance he was being foolish. When there was no reply, Kuwabara peeked up with a quivering bottom lip.

Yueske stood with his hands in his pocket saying nothing, only wearing a furrowed brow and tight lips. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Causing Kuwabara to stand up straight and look at him even more embarrassed, and ready to punch him.

"I never thought I'd hear the great Kuwabara, warrior of love, admit to being ugly!!" Mocked Yueske. He bent over shaking his head and slapping his leg, resting his other elbow on his knee and laughing loudly. He straightened and wiped a fake tear from his eye. Kuwabara gasped in shock.

"What?? Ugly??" Again Kuwabara grabbed at his friend, this time missing and falling. He quickly got up and held up a threatening fists.

"Im not ugly!! Im just not a romantic type!!" He rubbed his fists on his chest.

"I am a warrior of love, so I know how to treat a lady and how to talks to girls, I just....." He paused, his mouth moving like hes trying to remember how talking works. "She's different!!" He finaly blurted out. "She reads them girly romance books that Kurama likes!!" With a frustrated grunt, Kuwabara rubbed his neck nervously and spoke in a much more serious tone.

"Ive known her a real long time, and I cant tell her yet cuz I'm kinda worried she only thinks of me like how Shizuru thinks of me." Yueske picked up on the seriousness of the situation and scoffed trying to lighten things up again.

"Well you are ugly, but I think she likes you anyway. Besides man, why asks me? You think I read them werid books?" Yueske pat Kuwabara awkwardly on the shoulder.

"No way. I asked cuz you have a girlfriend!!" Kuwabara turned to look at Yueske who was moving his arm away.

"So? Doesnt mean I know what im doing, just asks Keiko." The boys laugh, seeming to have calmed down a great deal. Before much more could be said, four familiar and approaching voices could be heard chatting playfully.

"Oh dear, you didnt actually take me seriously did you, Miyoko?" Botan said in a teasing tone.

"I did!! I'm gullible, you cant just tell me anything about spirit world.I will believe it!! Everytime!" The two girls laughed.

"I've noticed," Interjected Kurama. "You have managed to retained alot of attributes from your childhood haven't you? I find that interesting." Kurama continud, wrapping an arm around Botan.

"Alot of people say that...is that a bad thing? I'm not immature am I?" Miyoko felt nervous now. Maybe that was the why Kuwabara never seemed to return her feelings, perhaps she wasn't mature enough for a relationship.

Keiko quickly spouted, "No no! I don't think he meant it like that, I think it's cute!" Keiko put a reassuring arm around Miyoko and smiled a friendly smile.

"Ofcourse! Its an admirable trait." Kurama said as Botan giggled.

Botan wagged her finger and pointed it at Miyoko with a knowing smile "Im on to you! You shouldn't feel so insecure!" Botan pulled her arm back and used it to hug Kurama's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself, I know you're simply nervous, so you're being extra critical of yourself, but you'll do fine!" Botan hummed encouragingly. "And, we all look fantastic!" Botan added as they all rounded the corner.

Keiko stopped dead in her tracks, and started tapping her foot. "Well, most of us are...Yueske! I thought I told you to dress up!!" Keiko pouted, walking over to her boyfriend's side.

Yueske was the most casually dressed out of all of them. Just wearing his usual faded blue jeans, black converse shoes, plain yellow shirt and favorite green and yellow windbreaker jacket. He looked even more underdressed standing next to Keiko. She was wearing a lovely pale pink turtleneck, a plum purple suspender skirt reaching to her knees, long white socks, and loafers to match her skirt. Despite their contrasting attire, they somehow matched perfectly.

Yueske wrapped his arm around Keiko's shoulder and smirked."Kuwabara isnt dressed up." He looked over to Kuwabara and nodded his way while jutting his thumb twords his friend.

"What!! I am too!! This is the nicest thing I got!! Other than like...a tux or something!!" Kuwabara wore a blue Letterman jacket, a red sweater with dark blue jeans, and brown dress boots laced in black, he was indeed dressed up quite nicely. Miyoko blushed at the sight of his clothing, he cleaned up nicely as always. She couldn't help but smile at him, it was always a slight surprise to see him out of his school uniform. Kuwabara had a simular reaction to Miyoko's choice of clothing. She dawned a wine red A-line dress, knitted black leggins, and shin high beige lace up boots. She wasn't one to dress up like this, but she wanted to tonight, it was a special night after all.

Trying to redirect the situation and prevent Yueske and Kuwabara from fighting, Botan chimed in. "Well, I never have to worry about Kurama when it comesto presentation! Unless ofcourse, he's overdressed and making me look a fool!" Kurama and Botan giggled to eachother looking the most put together, like they were the parents of the group. Tonight, everyone was going their part to help Miyoko's odds, evident by Botan, who was wearing something much different from her usual choice of clothing.

She modelled a white turtle neck dress, form fitting reaching just above her knees with a small slit on the right side, with sleeves that reached slightly past her palms, she wore her wedding ring, hoop earings, beige velvet tights, and blue slip on flats to top off the look. To match her, Kurama dressed just as nice. Wearing a white button up tucked neatly into his dark brown pants, red suspenders with red suede shoes laced in black, and a matching wool trench coat to top complete it all. Now everyone felt underdressed.

"So what are we doing anyway?" Yueske asked scratching his cheek. Keiko shook her head "Are you serious? You've been waiting around this long, and you dont even know why??" Yueske simpled shrugged "I guess?"

Botan sighed looking tired, Yueske was a handful for everyone. "Dont you remember, Yueske? I told you this morning! We're all having dinner!"

Botan motioned to the brick building everyone was standing next to. "You've been standing right next to the restaurant! Where I told you we would be meeting up, seriously! You didn't connect the dots?" Botan tilted her head with a hopeless look. Yueske gritted his teeth and roughly pulled Keiko by her hip to his, talking through his teeth. "Whatever!!" He sighed and let go of Keiko fixed his hair flustered, he brought his fists down onto his palm talking loudly. "So now that we're all here, can we go?? Im starving and you guys took all damn evening to get here!"

Keiko lightly kicked his shoe pouting up at him. "Hush!! Its not our fault you dont listen, besides you didnt even try to dress nice! So I dont feel sorry for you." Yuseke quickly stepped aside and raised his voice a bit "Hey! Didnt ya hear me?? I didn't know what was going on!!" Keiko roughly poked her boyfriend's chest, "Again, not our problem! Listen and you wouldn't have to worry!!"

Kurama was the first to put a stop to the bickering. He took a wide step twords the brick building and grabbed the glass doors handle, he opened the door and motioned for everyone fallow him inside.

So theres that. I'll write more soon. I hope its as fun to read as it was fun to write.

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onthepageoftears · 6 years ago

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Close Encounter (Maeve Wiley x Reader) // Sex Education

A/N: While I wrote this I listened to the songs A-Punk by Vampire Weekend (im so excited for their new album you don’t even know) as well as 1950 by King Princess. Anyway, enjoyyyy

Requests: 28. When I am dead (with maeve plz!)

‘That was kind of hot’, ‘Can I kiss you?’, and ‘ i’m not drunk enough for this’ (from drabble list 2 with maeve pleaseeee, maybe at Aimee’s party?)

Summary: When an incessant boy won’t stop bothering you, you find an unlikely savior. (bad summary so sorry)

Warnings: underage drinking, language, gross dude lol

Words: 1,236

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

You were never into guys.

They were boring, obnoxious, and overrated. Take this guy in front of you. He was going on and on about a hiking trip he took last summer, and the summer before that, and the one before that. He spit on your face probably three times in the last sentence, and the only thing you could do was nod and look anywhere but his eyes. He didn’t see your obvious disinterest, similar to most of the other guys you had interacted with.

It was always the same at these parties: pretending to enjoy a conversation, leading to sloppy make-outs in one of the bathrooms, and going home way too late with a lot of regret. But you weren’t feeling it tonight, not in the slightest. And when this boy started talking about his favorite types of herb, you rolled your eyes.

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” You whispered into your cup as you sipped the last bit of your beer. “I’m gonna go get more.” You shook the cup in his face, hoping he’d understand what you said over the blaring music.

“Cool,” he shouted back, but grabbed your arm as you turned away. “You’ll come back?”

“I don’t know.” You responded, even though you knew you were going to avoid him the rest of the night. He grabbed your arm again, this time with a stronger grip. You rolled your eyes again and turned around; now, you were angry.

He smiled obliviously, still holding onto your arm. “When can I get your number?” You glared at his hand, and back to him. When he finally let go, you patted him on the chest and smiled sweetly.

“When I’m dead.”

“Wha-“ By then you were already pushing through the crowd, ignoring the desperate calls coming from behind you. You were not in the mood for playing the nice gal, and all you wanted to do was get the hell away from that guy.

People didn’t seem to see the anger or desperation in your face, barely moving as you had to shove past them to get out of the trapped living area. You blinked, surprised by the difference of atmosphere in the hallway from the living room. It was quiet - not by much, but still quiet. You took a deep breath, but it was cut short by another shout from behind you. The guy was making his way through the crowd, getting closer by the second.

You kept your eyes behind you, watching the archway like a hawk. You didn’t even know why you agreed to come to Aimee’s stupid party. You hardly knew anyone here, and you knew your friend would just leave you behind to go flirt with some guys. And now, you were in this mess: running away from a nature obsessed freak who wouldn’t leave you the hell alone.

And to top it all off, you nearly bashed your head into someone else’s.

You backed away from the person with a gasp. “Agh-“

“Jesus-“

“Shit, sorry.” Your eyes pivoted from the ground and up to the girl you bumped into: she wore a plaid dress that fit her figure, and her hair was pulled up into a neat ponytail. You noticed the light pink in her hair, and looked back to her face. It was Maeve Wiley.

You had heard about her before; people would say all kinds of things about her, and you always felt angry when you heard them. They were all terribly construed rumors, but still, you never talked to her in person.

And now, she was standing in front of you with an expectant look on her face. You almost forgot about the situation you were in when you looked into her eyes. But when she went to move past you with a mumble under her breath, you found yourself grabbing her hand, turning her back to you.

“Wait!” You looked behind her at the doorframe you just escaped, waiting for the guy to emerge any second.

“What?” She said, looking down at your hand with a frown. You pulled it away, but kept flicking your eyes from her annoyed face to the archway.

“This guy-“ you took a deep breath and looked at her with pleading eyes. “He’s been bothering me all night and I am trying to get away from him but I’m pretty sure he’s following me and I don’t want him to think I’m interested, because I’m not.” You took another breath and looked back at the door, where he finally managed to escape the crowd. He looked to the left first, then right; when he locked eyes with you, he sent a slight drunken wave.

“Shit.” You turned back to Maeve with widened eyes. Noticing your change of stature, she turned her head and saw the guy walking slowly towards you, and turned back with a roll of her eyes. Quickly, she moved you so you were leaning against the wall, pushing herself right in front of you. Her breath fanned your face, and you internally blamed the heat rising to your cheeks on the slight buzz from your beer.

“Can I kiss you?” She watched your face, waiting impatiently for a response. You peaked out of the corner of your eye and saw the guy not more than a few feet away, and without another thought, you nodded.

She flicked her eyes to your lips and kissed you, pushing you further against the wall. Fire filled your veins and you reached a hand behind her neck to deepen the kiss, feeling butterflies burst around in your stomach. When the two of you came up for air, you nearly lost yourself in her eyes. Of course, you were shortly interrupted.

“That was kind of hot,” the nameless boy smirked at the two of you, making you nearly spit in his direction. But Maeve beat you to it.

“Piss off, nature boy.” So, she had known him too. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the party, probably going to find another girl to bore to death. Once he disappeared back the way he came, you turned to Maeve.

“Thanks,” you said, still breathless from the kiss.

You hadn’t realized how close you two still were, gulping as she pushed her body away from yours. “No problem.” She straightened the straps of her dress and smiled.

You let out a nervous cough and blushed. The two of you were silent for a moment, the noise of the party suddenly coming back into focus. It was like once she kissed you, everything else disappeared. But now that the air had changed, you were afraid she would leave. So you spoke. “I didn’t mean to be all…” you twirled your hands in the air with a nervous laugh. “Damsel in distress.”

Maeve shrugged. “We all need a little saving sometimes.” She put out her hand suddenly, making you frown. “I’m Maeve, by the way.”

“I know. I mean…” you mentally kicked yourself, but took her hand nonetheless. “Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N.” Maeve let her hand linger in the shake a bit longer than seemed necessary. “Let me know if you need to be saved again.” She winked at you (winked!), and walked back down the hallway, leaving you to stare after her, blush undoubtably forming on your cheeks.

You were never into guys. And now you knew why.

#sex education #sex education netflix #self insert imagine #sex education imagine #imagine #reader imagine #maeve wiley #maeve wiley x reader #maeve wiley imagine #maeve wiley x reader imagine #emma mackey #writing #maeve wiley fic #otis milburn

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Text

safe with me

mmm here’s some canon era sprace cuz i never write that

warnings: past death (kinda graphic), alcohol

ship: sprace

word count: 1925

editing: no

Race kicked his feet onto Albert’s lap, humming contentedly as he toed off his boots, letting his feet relax for the first time that day. It had been a particularly hot selling day, the new Summer sun blaring relentlessly down on the city, leaving Race more tired than usual.

It wasn’t like the Summer bothered him. In fact, he preferred Summer to Winter. It was a lot easier to manage intense heat than intense cold. Besides, their clothes were all painfully inadequate for the biting cold of Winter, but that was never as issue in the summer. You couldn’t pull a jacket out of thin air, but you could strip down a layer.

Albert lifted the apple he was nursing away from Race’s feet, “Getcha stinky feet offa me,” he whined.

Race just smirked, lifting one of his feet to poke at Albert’s chin, “Nah, m’comfy right ‘ere.”

Race cackled as Albert groaned, trying to shove his legs off his lap, but huffing when Race stayed put.

“Can’t I ever enjoy a simple, quiet meal around ‘ere?” Albert complained, batting at Race’s foot when he tried to lift it again.

“Not with me around,” Race said, innocently.

Albert glared at him, holding challenging eye contact as he lifted a hand, a small smile flitting through his eyes as he began to tickle the bottom of Race’s foot. Race yelped, jerking his foot upwards and accidentally kicking Albert in the jaw.

“Ow, fuck!” Albert shrieked, successfully pushing a now laughing Race off of him, “Ya damn shit, I’ma soak ya.”

“Looks like I gotcha first,” Race countered, moving to cross his legs underneath him.

“‘Ey, Higgins, ya in here?”

Both boys looked toward the doorway, brightening when they saw Finch poking his head into the room.

“Right ‘ere,” Race said, waving to get Finch’s attention.

“Right,” Finch was shifting awkwardly on his feet and Race’s stomach sank. Something didn’t seem right, “Uh, Conlon’s outside. He, uh, he asked for ya.”

Race nodded slowly, allowing the words to sink in. His odd relationship with Spot Conlon wasn’t a secret, but they generally kept their little meetups private. It was rare that they ever met up in Manhattan. Usually, Race would head over to Brooklyn for a night, and even then, it would be awhile before he and Spot slipped upstairs unnoticed. They were never this blatant.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Race asked, trying to leave the nerves out of his voice.

Finch shook his head, “Nah, but he’s drunk as shit.”

Race paled, wordlessly standing and pushing past Finch. He could hear people murmuring behind him, but he ignored it in favor of rushing towards the front of the lodging house. Spot hated alcohol. He couldn’t stand the taste, or the way it made him feel, and the memories associated with it were enough to leave him trembling against his will. Race had never seen him do more than scowl at a beer bottle.

If he was drunk, something was very, very wrong.

Spot was sitting on the front steps of the building by the time Race got there, a bottle of god knows what held loosely in his grip. His head was ducked down, hanging low between his legs. He was completely still, but as Race neared, he could see the slight tremor of his hands around the bottle.

Race was careful to approach him, keeping his footsteps quiet, but loud enough to warn Spot of his presence. He cautiously knelt down in front of Spot, reaching out to tap his chin to get his attention.

Spot jerked, unfocused eyes meeting Race’s own. They were red and bloodshot, pain and something that looked sickeningly like terror swimming below the surface.

“Sean,” Race breathed, lips slightly parted as he searched Spot’s face for a clue to what was happening, “What-”

Spot shook his head, bowing his head back down, “I don’ wanna.”

Race frowned, “Don’t wanna what?”

Spot stayed still, his eyes glued to the ground between his feet, “I dunno, I jus’-” he looked at Race, desperation the only discernible emotion on his face, “I need you.”

A shiver went down Race’s spine, as if cold water had been dumped down his back. Spot never allowed himself to be this vulnerable, even around Race, whom he seemed to trust a greater deal than others.

Race blinked pushing his shock aside and mentally forcing himself to stay focused, “What do you need?” He asked, gently prying the bottle out of Spot’s grip and ignoring his weak protests.

Spot seemed to be having trouble forming his thoughts into words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking increasingly distressed as each dragging second passed.

“Can I…” he swallowed, “Can I stay the night? I- I can’t- I don’-”

“Shh,” Race reached out, cupping his cheek. This sort of comfort was rare between them, but it felt necessary, “‘Course ya can stay. C’mon, m’sure Jackie’ll let us have his penthouse tonight,” he stood, hoisting Spot up with him, “ya good ta walk?”

Spot shrugged, “Dunno.”

Race sighed, “Aight, that’s okay. I gotcha.”

He draped Spot’s arm around his shoulders, firmly holding him around the waist as they made their way back into the lodging house. Race bit his lip, considering his options and settling to set Spot on the back stairs while he looked for Jack.

He found Jack in the kitchen, trying to sort out a quarrel between a couple of the littles, who seemed to be fussing over their bread. Race cleared his throat, earning a few awestruck look from the younger newsies.

Jack turned his head, the worn tinge to his eyes evident, even in the dim lighting, “Heya, Racer, whatcha need?”

Race’s eyes flicked to the littles and he jerked his head, indicating for Jack to follow him to the hallway.

Jack sighed, “Ya’d better not kill each other,” he muttered to the kids as he joined Race outside the kitchen. The kid’s giggles rang out behind them.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jack asked, looking vaguely annoyed and incredibly off-put.

Race scuffed his toe on the rotting wood floor, feeling strangely nervous to be asking Jack such a big favor, “Could I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “listen, so, uh, Conlon’s here-” Jack’s eyes widened and Race held up a hand, “-n’ he ain’t doin’ too hot, so uh, can we stay in your penthouse just for tonight? I wanna make sure he don’t do nothin’ he’s gonna regret.”

Jack frowned, shifting his jaw, “Not doin’ hot how?”

Race shrugged, “Dunno exactly, but he’s drunk and ya know he don’t ever drink, so somethin’ ain’t right,” he trailed off for a moment, thinking, “an’ he looks pretty spooked. Somethin’ bad happened over in Brooklyn I think.”

Jack seemed to have an internal argument before he clicked his tongue, throwing up his hands, “Yeah, go ahead. Jus’ don’t touch none of my drawings.”

Race saluted him lazily, already turning to retrieve Spot, “Will do, Kelly. Much appreciated.”

Spot hadn’t moved since Race had left him, but he seemed to be shaking harder now. Spasms were ripping through his torso and legs and it sounded as if he were struggling to take fulfilling breaths. He would gasp helplessly for a few seconds before forcing a deeper breath, but it didn’t seem to do the trick. Race watched him for a moment, his worry growing heavier in his stomach.

“C’mon,” he said, kneeling in front of Spot once more, “Jackie gave us the okay, let’s getcha somewhere quiet.” he helped Spot up again, his heart breaking as a ghost of a whimper escaped Spot’s lips. He seemed to curl closer into Race.

It took awhile, but eventually they made it up the ridiculous amount of stairs and singular ladder length to Jack’s penthouse. There were two mattresses up there, but Race decided to settle them both onto the one closest to the ladder.

The journey up must have worn Spot out, because he was already dozing by the time Race got comfortable. He pursed his lips, taking note of the way Spot’s eyebrows still scrunched, even in his sleeping state. He ran a gentle hand through Spot’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head before sinking into the mattress and allowing sleep to overcome him as well.

XXX

“Race?”

Spot’s small, scared voice jarred Race awake, leaving him alert in a matter of seconds. He sat up, taking a minute to gather his bearings before turning to Spot, who was also sitting up.

His teeth were chattering and he had his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, eyes flicking helplessly around him. The lost aura that manifested around him almost made him seem younger.

“What’s goin’ on?” Race said, shifting closer to Spot, “What’s wrong?”

Spot locked eyes with him, terror growing stronger, “Where am I?”

Race blew out a breath. He’d been dreading this.

“Jack’s penthouse,” Spot’s eyes widened and he rushed to continue, “Ya showed up hammered as shit an’ scared as shit and I wanted ta take ya somewhere private.”

Spot seemed to relax, though it did nothing for his tense composure, “Oh.”

Race hovered his hand over Spot’s arms, waiting for the nod of approval before carefully pulling one of his hands away from his stomach and intertwining their fingers, “What happened, caro?”

Spot looked down at their hands, a slow eruption seemingly happening in his chest as he began to speak, “I...Boots, uh, ya know. The little bugger from my borough,” he stopped for a moment, forcing a deep breath, “he, um, he was messin’ around in the streets today ‘cause it was warm enough ta play and he-he-” Race squeezed his hand, prompting him to continue, “he didn’t see the carriage comin’ an’ I tried ta warn ‘im, but,” Spot shook his head, “was too late. Ran ‘im right over. There-” he choked, “there was so much blood, Racer. Ain’t never coulda guessed there was that much blood in such a lil’ guy, but it was all there. On the pavement, on the carriage, on his clothes...on my clothes.”

Race sucked in a breath, feeling slightly nauseous. He forced himself to push the images that entered his mind out.

“He was my responsibility,” Race looked back at Spot as he spoke again, “he was my fuckin’ responsibility an’ I-” He cut himself off, blinking rapidly as his face crumpled, giving way to a vehement sob.

Race ran his thumb across Spot’s knuckles, searching for the words to say. There was no way to fix this- no way to take away Spot’s pain, but damnit if he was going to try his best to make him feel safe again.

“My mama used ta say this thing to me,” he began softly, “when things were bad, or my dad was mean, she’d say, ‘Tieni duro, passerà’. Over and over, she’d repeat that, until I eventually believed her.”

Spot hiccuped, looking at him, “What’s it mean?”

“Stay strong, it will pass,” Race said, confidently, “whatcha had ta see sounds like hell, but it’s not your fault, Spot. Sometimes shit happens an’ it’s fucked up, but it’s jus’ how it came to pass. Ain’t no one’s fault.”

Spot let out a shaky breath, leaning into Race’s chest.

“An’ ya know what?” Race asked, wrapping his arms around Spot and burrowing his nose into his hair, “Sono qui per te, tesoro.”

Spot hummed, sending warm vibrations through Race’s chest, “What’s that one mean?”

“I’m here for you, love.”

sorry if the italian was wrong lol

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

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@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

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@spot-me50-papes

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@newsies-ensemble

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@bastille-smedry

#newsies #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #yeehaw #newsies fic #yeah #angst

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mugsywrites · 5 years ago

Text

Just for Fun

Based on this post:

Tougher than the Rest (Non Zombie AU, meet cute)

Paul Rovia tries to visit his mom and sisters at least a few times a month just to say hello and let them know how he’s doing. Easy enough to do, and a nice bonus is that Decatur Cemetery is a great spot to go for a run. The historic section is beautiful, the paths are well-maintained, and it’s conveniently located a few blocks from the MARTA station. All he has to do is change into his running clothes before he leaves work, ride for a few extra stops, and meander down to the cemetery.

He says hello to Mom and the girls first; after more than twenty years and a fuckload of therapy he’s rarely made sad or angry by his visits. Usually it’s peaceful more than anything else. Usually.

On the occasions it’s not peaceful a run helps to clear his mind.

When Paul arrives at that familiar spot in the cemetery on the day his life changes forever there’s a man kneeling over Tricia’s grave. Paul slams to a confused halt; thinking for a split second this is a caretaker of some kind before remembering it’s past six and the cemetery workers have been gone for hours. Plus this guy isn’t dressed like a caretaker—his back is to Paul and he gets an impression of broad shoulders underneath a black leather vest with angel wing patches. Paul tries to figure out who the hell this guy could be; he is muttering something to the graves and laying a white flower in a mason jar in front of Tricia’s headstone, Mom and Katie’s already have one.

Finally he says, “Um. Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The guy jumps and clambers to his feet, spinning around and blinking. Paul’s eyes flicker over him automatically—hot, in a scruffy redneck biker way. Dark hair, narrow blue eyes, and nice cheekbones. The guy’s eyes widen and he freezes. His cheeks turn red and his eyes drop, fingers twiddling.

“Uh, sorry,” the guy says, “Jus’ payin’ my respects.” His accent has a twang of Appalachia in it, making Paul think of his grandfather for the first time in a years.

Paul folds his arms in front of him and raises an eyebrow. “No need to apologize, but I’m the only one who comes around here these days. Did you know my mom?” The guy looks anywhere from ten to fifteen years older than Paul, he could’ve been one of her students if he went to high school in the area.

The guy looks even more mortified. He rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t meet Paul’s eyes when he stammers out, “Sorry. I…it’s kinda weird.” The guy flushes a dark shade of red and Paul thinks he’s fucking adorable. If he saw this guy in a gay bar he’d ask for his number, although he doubts that scenario was even within the realm of possibility. Paul’s dated enough guys to know that not everyone conforms to gay stereotypes but by numbers alone this man is probably straight. Even if he wasn’t Paul doesn’t think standing over the graves of his entire family is the best place to ask for a date.

“I’m Daryl,” the guy finally says, eyes darting everywhere but Paul’s face, “Um. Daryl Dixon. He fidgets a minute before blurting out, “My brother’s buried in Mountain View Baptist up in Salina.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul says automatically, before he realizes why the name of the cemetery sounds familiar. “Oh.”

Daryl’s eyes finally meet Paul’s own for a split second before continuing, “Merle died ‘bout five years ago. When I first started visiting I saw this grave next to his. Samuel Monroe.”

“Oh,” Paul says again. He knows where his father is buried but has never paid a visit, not even to piss on his grave.

Daryl looks at his shoes and mutters, “I felt bad for ‘im. Never saw nobody coming to put flowers or nothing on his grave. He was my age when he died, and I dunno…I was kinda messed up right after Merle passed. Started leaving a few flowers on Samuel Monroe’s grave when I went to see Merle, or stopping to clean it up sometimes. Included ‘im sometimes when I talked to Merle even, I know it sounds crazy—“

“I talk to my mom and sisters all the time,” Paul says mildly, “It’s not crazy.”

“Anyhow,” Daryl says, “My friend’s kid looked Samuel Monroe up on google when I told ‘im the story, and I saw…I found out what he did.”

“I’m sorry your brother has to be buried next to him,” Paul says sincerely.

“Well,” Daryl says, kicking at the ground, “I just felt bad, is all. Wanted to apologize to yer mama and them little girls, so Carl helped me track down where they’s buried.”

Paul doesn’t believe in love at first sight or even at first conversation. Something still blooms to life in his chest anyways that he can’t deny. Looking at this scruffy biker in his leather vest and battered jeans you would never guess he was the sort of man to leave flowers on a stranger’s grave. Never guess he was the sort of man who would go out of his way to apologize to the victims when he found out that stranger was a murdering piece of shit. Paul finds himself grinning, “You’re right, that’s weird. But it’s pretty cute too, so don’t worry.”

It comes out far more flirtatious than he meant it, enough that Daryl picks up on it, if the way the other man’s eyes widen when he looks at Paul again are any indication. Paul curses to himself, and begs the universe for Daryl to be cool or at least so guilty and embarrassed he could keep his homophobia in check.

Then Paul sees the way Daryl’s eyes flash over his body. It is one of the last hot days of the summer, Paul is wearing a sleeveless and fitted shirt for running, and while he isn’t vain he knows he looks good. Daryl mumbles something else, looking like he was going to spontaneously combust, and Paul figures what the hell. He has on his running shoes if he’s wrong about the way Daryl looked at him. “This is a long shot,” he says, “But are you gay?”

Daryl’s jaw literally drops as he stares at Paul, “I…what?”

“Are you gay?” Paul says patiently, “Because I am, and if you are I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Daryl goggles at him. His eyes flicker over Paul’s body again, all but confirming his stab in the dark was the correct one. Daryl’s eyes flick back to the graves, “You want to buy me a drink? Like…like a fucking date?”

“Yeah,” Paul says, “If you’re into guys, that is. If you’re not I’d still like to buy you a drink in a platonic way. I promise to behave myself.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Daryl asks.

“No,” Paul says. He’s not sure if he should laugh or start running.

Daryl looks like he’s trying to decide whether or not Paul is making fun of him, or having him on. Finally he swallows and drops his eyes, “I…yeah. I am.”

My gaydar is a thing of beauty, Paul thinks to himself, “So? Can I buy you a drink?” he frowns, “If you don’t have a boyfriend or anything like that.”

Daryl stares at him, then back at the graves, “Why would you want…”

“You’re hot and you seem incredibly sweet, if those flowers are anything to go by,” Paul says, nodding to the little white flowers in their rough mason jars. They look like wildflowers, something Daryl had picked himself to bring to a trio of strangers’ graves. Paul hesitates and says, “Sorry, I know asking you here is morbid as fuck.”

“A bit,” Daryl says dryly, raises his eyes to study Paul’s face, “Weird place to ask for a date.”

Paul shrugs, “The worst part of dating a new guy is figuring out how and when I’m going to tell him about this. A lot of guys lose interest after.”

“Sound like fucking idiots,” Daryl mutters, blushing everywhere.

“Well, I am kinda fucked up,” Paul says, “And some guys are scared I’ll take after my father. Can’t blame them; I used to be scared of that too.”

Daryl looks at him then, really looks at him. Finally he says, “I’m kinda fucked up too. My daddy…” he swallows and drops his eyes, “There was times I was scared he’d get carried away and kill me or Merle.” He looks up at Paul again, “Ok. Where’s good around here for a drink?”

Paul grins, “There’s a ton of places on the square we can check out. I’m Paul, by the way. Paul Rovia.” He’d changed his last name to his mother’s maiden name as soon as he’d turned eighteen, “My friends call me Jesus, though. Your pick.”

“Ain’t callin’ ya Jesus,” Daryl mutters, “Nice t’meet you.”

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

Three years later when they’re lined up at the courthouse to get married the adorable pair of lesbians ahead of them asks how they met. Daryl is too embarrassed for the truth and mutters something about “mutual friends” setting them up.

Not that far from the truth, Paul supposes.

#desus au

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mistymark · 6 years ago

Text

the one with the step stool.

nakamoto yuta x reader // barista!au // enemies to lovers!au

summary: in which you and yuta are coworkers and he finds it funny that you can’t reach the things on the top shelf

lets get this started then

can I just say

you absolutely adored your job

like most people hated their jobs? not you

working at the quaint coffee shop was the highlight of your day; talking to the old ladies who came in for morning tea every week, having friendly debates with the suits who came in during rush hour as you made their coffees, fun discussions with the other students and making new close friends with your coworkers

all in all, work was great

was

over the summer, when it started to get really busy as the weather looked up, your manager started hiring some new summer staff

enter yuta

okay not gonna lie the first time you saw him you thought he was hella attractive and couldnt wait to work with him

but that was until he began openly flirting with all the customers, and boasting to one of your coworkers about how much money he got in tips from it

and honestly, it began to piss you off

who the hell does he think he is

he was so cute and flirty with all the customers but so teasing when it came to you

and no it wasn't cute you hate the guy shut up

“y/n can u stop staring at my ass” “im trying to see how many muffins are in the case, asshole”

“hey y/n,,, like what you see?” “I wasn't even looking at you until you said my name wtf”

and no he wasn't a fuckboy!!!!! but he was definitely flirtatious

“y/n you missed a spot” “no I didnt I just finished wiping this table down” “no, not that,,, the bit of drool,, from looking at me” “oh my god shut up”

most of the time u worked the machine whilst he was on registers

but one of the other girls in the back went away on a holiday, so u started covering her in the office

which meant you had to be able to reach all the files in the top cabinets

and okay,, you weren't SHORT per say... but u were sorta

vertically challenged

and Yuta had taken it upon himself to help bully you whenever you needed ingredients from the top shelves when u were in the kitchen

so watching u try and reach for the files every day made him cACKLE

literally it was the funniest shit to him

“do u need a hand” “oh uh, yes please” “come on y/n just take it” “YOURE HOLDING IT OVER YOUR HEAD YOU LITTLE SHIT I CANT REACH IT”

anyway

one day you come in to work

and you roll your eyes at him when he sends you a grin from the registers

and roll your eyes even hARDER when he winks

when u walk into the office you're working in, theres a small pink step stool sitting on the desk, heart and rainbow stickers stuck all over it

theres also just a pile of glitter sitting on the top, like not glued on or anything, just sitting in a pile on the black surface

immediately your smile drops and you turn around in a fit of rage, and he's already standing there smugly, his arms crossed as he leans against the doorframe

“nakamoto yuta i am going to KILL you” you march up to him, your eyes shooting daggers

his eyes widen a little as you stand as close as possible to him, your finger pointed at him “you're such an asshole you know that?”

his smile never falters “you’re really cute when you're mad”

in a huff, you stomp back to your desk, grab the step stool and set it down at his feet

he laughs softly at your actions and watches as you stand on the stool confidently

“bet im not cute anymore”

he shakes his head at you and leans back quickly to make sure he’s not going to get in trouble for abandoning his work

“nope” he assures you

not gonna lie,, it kinda hurt

he saw the smile falter on your face

“well, uh... good, I-”

he glances down at the stool, before dragging his eyes up to your face, hovering above his “not cute exactly, I'd say more hot, but it’s whatever” he grins cheekily at you as he watches the small, shy smile appear on your face

“um? thank you?” you let your hands drop and you keep eye contact as you step off the stool and kick it forcefully into the corner of the room

he doesnt leave

“dont you have something better to do? like, idk, your job?”

“shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?”

“whatever yuta”

later that week, you’re collecting your payslip from the box theyre kept in after your shift when yuta joins you

for once in his lifetime, he doesnt make any jokes as he easily reaches up and grabs it for you from above the cupboards

he huffs dramatically as he searches for his from the box “why can't they just do it in alphabetical order or something wtf”

“im sure its there somewhere”

“I can't find it”

“just grab it next week then”

“I can't, this is my last week”

“you're quitting?” you stop, looking up at him, instantly feeling as if it was your fault

he sent you a small smile because of ur concern, and continues looking through the box “no, im only summer staff, remember? and last time I checked, this is the last week of summer”

“so, you're not going to work here anymore” you couldnt believe it

“pretty sure thats what it means, yeah” he looked amusedly at you

when you didnt respond: “you gonna miss me, shortstack? no one to get the files down for you”

you snorted, “doubt it, and besides, I have a stool”

but to tell the truth, part of you was going to miss him

you continue to rifle through the pile you have in your hands and you find his

“this is yours right?” he looks up and makes to grab his payslip from you

“come on yuta just take it” you mock as you hold it out away from him

he reaches out to grab it and you move your arm behind your back, and he doesnt hesitate to reach around you to try and get it back

“um” you start, when both of his arms are wrapped around you, trying to snatch the envelope from your hands

it wasn't because you were freaked out because this wasn't normal, it was because you were freaked out because it did feel normal

it felt like he should always have his hands wrapped around you

and you didnt mean to ruin it;

he stopped instantly, taking in your position

you were standing there, one of his arms holding you to his chest to prevent you from moving, as his other reached for your hand

your other hand was resting on his shoulder as he bent down slightly to reach down your back

you stayed like that for a moment; trying to gage each other’s reactions

because if he wasn't lying; he was quite enjoying how flushed he made you, and how cute he thought your habits were while you were working

and how pretty you looked every morning when you walked in, and how you still looked gorgeous at the end of the day

okay okay maybe mAYBE yuta had a slight thing for you

but you would never take him seriously because of his constant flirting

“sorry” he pulled his arms away from you, taking a small step back

“no, no, um- here” you offered him the payslip

he took it, nodded and left

okay what the fuck just happened

did u have a thing for yuta

surely not

okay maybe

yes?

well this wasn't supposed to happen lol

the following week, after four days of not seeing yuta working with you, and with your friend coming back you were working the machine again, so u felt extra lonely

dont get me wrong, like your other friends were great, but you couldnt help miss him

especially with the small moment you'd had only a few days ago

the days passed much slower, but you continued your work diligently

“one regular iced mocha please”

your head shot up at his voice, and he sent you a wide grin as he met your eyes, then focused back on the girl serving him, grabbing out his wallet from his pocket

he stood waiting for his coffee beside the machine

“how have you been?” you tried to sound casual, not wanting to let on how excited you were to see him

he smiled happily “good, tho I miss working here”

“is that why you're back so soon”

“actually...” you looked up as you waited for the machine to finish pouring the hot liquid into a cup

“I wanted to ask if you were busy after your shift”

you felt a smile creep up on your face

you nodded happily, biting your lip to stop him from seeing your obvious reaction

“you still finish at 3 on Fridays right?”

“yeah” you blushed a little and began to focus on your coffees again

“iced coffee for,, hottest man alive?” you frowned at the docket you'd been handed

“wow y/n thats not necessary but thank you” he laughed and stepped closer to collect his coffee

“nakamoto yuta i will-”

“kill me? okay, y/n, but you’ve gotta wait” he checked the time “seven minutes until your shift ends”

seven minutes later, you hung up your apron and grabbed your things, stashing them on the chair beside yuta, as he stood up to leave

“I just have to grab my payslip” you turned around to rush to the backroom

“I got it”

you cocked your head confusedly at him

he held it up, then moved it to above his head

you jutted your hip out and crossed your arms over your chest, unimpressed

he lowered his hand, offering it out to you, level with his chest

quietly, he said “come on y/n just take it”

you cocked an eyebrow at him and reached out to grab it, but he grabbed your wrist with his free hand, pulling you into him, and bending down to reach your face, he closed the gap between your lips

you stood there, surprised, before you felt yourself smile and kiss him back

your hands forgot about the payslip and moved around his neck, pulling him against you

he moved the hand with your payslip in it around you waist, supporting you

he pulled away and you pouted at him

“dont give me that look, I came here to take you on a date, not just make out with you”

“funny, I like the second idea more” you mumbled, stashing your payslip into your bag

“hey it took me two months to work up the courage to ask you out, you’re not throwing my date away this easily”

you grabbed his hand as you stepped out onto the sidewalk

“really? two months?”

he laughed as he lead you down the busy street

“you have no idea”

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meetmeatmidnightsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Going back home ( Jaylor Fanfiction )

On the 26th of April Taylor swift was back at her home in Nashvile. Its been about 15 years since she moved here. Its the city of music, her big break, her home town. She drove down some nastolgic roads that gave her a crap load of feels, before turning on the road to go home. You can change your looks, get a recorde deal, seal some albums, make lots of money, and use a different name; you can always come back home. She pulls into the the driveway, takes the short walk to the front door, where Joe was waiting for her. He pulls her into his arms, kisses her neck. She couldnt even hang up her caot, before he gets all sweet with her. She kicks off her shoes, leaves them at the door. He always greets her; holds her, like a true gentlemen. "Welcome home babe." She gave him a deepened kiss on the lips, not wanting to let it go. She got to come home to him every single night, after a long day of work at the studio. He sweeps her up in his arms, carries her to the sofa. She tucks her chin undereaths his, as her messy hair flops behind his cute face. How did she get so lucky, to have this man all to herself?. She asked that question almost every day. He can read right through her mind, see the worries and anixety creeping up on those perfect little dimples. He strokes his finger through her messy blonde hair. "What do you have to worry about, babe?." He hated seeing her so worked up, worried all the time. She should know by now that hes not going to leave, unless he wants her too. So far she has not asked him to. He counts down the days when they will have that massive fight, say things they dont mean, slam doors at each other, break up. Over the past years he has had to put up with a lot. Her crazy, mixed up world, and the tabliods. The headlines have been worse, then he could cope with at first. People assumed that they would be nothing more than a summer fling, or friends with benifits. After one interview with a french guy, - who miss interupted his own words. That hurt Taylor, because words can be twisted, to make things look uglier then they appear. He spent months trying to make it up to her. She was insecure / unsure of where there relationship was even headed. He surprised her with a romantic date night at the house. He ordered take-out, instead of cooking dinner. He went to the door, paied the pizza guy, grabbed the pizza boxes. He ordered Candian bacon, all meat, supereme. Taylor smiled at his efforts. She was being over-dramatic, senstive about the interview. She did not like it when other tabliods dissing there relationship. She is not a whore, or a slut. "Do you still think that I am a slut?." She asked him. He scanned her face for more answers. He was lost in a sea of confusion. He would never think of her in that mannor. He pulls up the interview, which has gotten more attention over the past couple of months. "Taylor swift is a slut, a whore. For sleeping around with a british man who is twice her age." He read the tabliod headlines, turned off his phone. He was not happy how this interview turned out. He strickly meant that they were not excluisive, it was none of there dam bussiness to know every detail of there relationship. "Babe, you are not a whore, or a slut. I meant to say---" Joe could not even finish his sentance before she cut him off. "Its just a fancy term for sleeping around. After all I have a ton of ex-lovers. Who knows how many of them have been in my bed." Joe rubs his hands through his hair, unsure of what to say or do that will convince her otherwise. Yes they have slept together, it means much more to him then really great sex. Which is nice. To him its an act of love, when you give up apart of yourself to the person you love most of all in this universe. He would never kiss and tell to the tabliods like that. Its not who he is. He grabs Taylors arm, but she pulled away from him. This was it. The fight that played over, over in his head. He was not going to let her run away. She storms out of the back door, runs down the long driveway, gets into her car, cries as her head rests on the sterring wheel. She did not want to leave the house like this, its not like he came after her; how surprising. »»————-　★　————-««»»————-　★　————-««»»————-　★　————-«« Joe ran after her, was out of breath by the time he caught up. He found her sobbing in her vechile. He hated seeing her cry like this. He opens up the passenger door, climbs in. "Im so sorry, babe. I will never talk about our relationship ever again. I promise. Please dont leave me. I dont want you to walk out of my life." She would have caved right then, - and there, forgiven him. She did just that. She missed him. She crawls out of her seat, plops into his lap, cries even more. He held onto her, never letting go. She was surprised that he came after her, none of the other guys ever did. She rubbed her nose against his, lets the emotions sink in. She would never have to worry about losing him. »»————-　★　————-««»»————-　★　————-««»»————-　★　————-«« Back inside, things finally calmed down after the storm. Taylor allowed Joe back on the sofa, he sits at the end of her feet, massages them. She closes her eyes, realxes. You are everything, I need. She had no words to say that to him. Two souls like them find each other through the blackness, Your never really alone. She stared into his deep blue eyes, Its like he was gazing straight into her soul. He rubs her feet, with cooco oils, lavender secented butter rubs. She felt more at ease. She wraps her arms around his neck, massages his shoulders. This was one of those perfect nights together. Where they were not ordered to go anywhere. He did not have to leave, fly back all the way to London. He lived here with her most days. He had to fly back, go on jobs, interviews, or photoshoots. "I love you babe." "I love you more babe." Taylors favorite two words to hear. 'I love you.' meant more than his own name. It was there way of connecting the magical feeling in the air, letting it float. She never would get enough of it. "Sorry for being over-dramatic." Taylor had deep insecurities, that made her seem high sprung, over-dramatic, completely mad because of the tabliods. They created this persona a few years ago, of who they think she should be, Who she really is a person / musican. "You are not over-dramatic babe. Not in the least. I love you just the way you are." Joe hated it the way the tabliods slammed her. He saw what it did to her self-estmee. She was not over-dramatic or taroizing. Sure she can get crazy when they fight. He is the most amazing, hard working, selfless, caring person hes ever known. "Thanks babe." "Anytime, babe."

#Going home #Taylor swift #joe alwyn #fanfiction #fluff #angust

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honeylikewords · 6 years ago

Note

Ok so what if a cute dog comes up to Benny while he's just waking up from his nap and the dog starts licking his face and Benny gets so happy and excited and then hears a voice shouting for the dog to come back but he doesn't want the dog to go & then the voice comes closer, apologizing, so he looks up and can't get his eyes off this beautiful angel standing in front of him and then his brain kicks in, doesn't want her to be afraid of him but she isn't at all, and asks him to grab coffee ok bye

oh my god you guys are So Good at this

Thank You, Here I Go AGAIN WITH THE LONG REPLIES

Benny has a lot of sleep issues, ranging from an inability to sleep at night to difficulty staying asleep to random bouts of sleep during the day. His sleep schedule is frenetic at best and literally non-existent at worst. So when he does manage to get some sleep, he’s not too picky about when and where he’s napping, so long as he isn’t gonna get arrested or beat up for sleeping there.

He ends up dozing off under a tree in the city park one warm, sunny day: the tree is cooly shaded but the summer air is nice and cozy, so he drifts off easily, laying on his back in the grass. He’s slept in significantly less comfortable places; this is, by far, one of the nicest naps he’s had in a while.

He falls into a good sleep; not deep enough to dream, but deep enough to rest and restore him. He’s almost getting to the depth of sleep where he’ll start having his dreams when he hears snuffling and something wet slathering over his face, and he bolts awake, snorting.

A handsome-looking German Shepherd is standing over him, tongue lolling out with excitement. The dog licks at Benny’s cheek again and barks happily, running a few feet away. He wants to play, Benny realizes.

Benny stands and grins, beaming at the dog.

“You wan’ me to chase you, boy?”

The dog barks.

“Well, get ready, ‘cause Benny’s comin’!”

He chases the dog and they wrestle one another, the dog yipping excitedly and Benny laughing. He can’t remember the last time he got to be this close to a good dog like this, much less be allowed to play with it. It’s a great feeling to be back in his swing of things, chasing the dog and playfully growling at it, his face almost sore from how much he’s smiling.

When he hears a distant call of “Dodger!” Benny looks up and realizes that a very, very pretty girl has been chasing after the both of them. She’s a little winded, her face glowing with a sheen of sweat from her exertion. Benny thinks it’s very beautiful indeed.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” she huffs, leaping forward to clip her leash to the dog’s collar. “Dodger got away from me when I was trying to get his leash untangled and I really hope he didn’t do anything--”

Benny’s stunned silent. She’s... wow. Okay. That’s a very, very beautiful woman and he has no idea what to do. It’s a lot to take in all at once. He tries to fumble for words but becomes keenly aware of himself: a tall, large, dirty homeless man sleeping in a park. He must look frightful. He can only imagine how scared she must be approaching him, and it aches him down to his core when he realizes that there’s just something wrong with him that puts out this aura of unpleasantness.

He wishes he was normal and healthy and handsome instead of filthy and foul and unnatural. He gazes up at her, awestruck, until he realizes that the best thing he can do is try to be calm and make her feel less threatened.

“Aw, nah, lady,” Benny smiles, ruffling Dodger’s ears. “He’s great.”

“I saw him run at you when you were sleeping, and I am so, so sorry, he never does that! But... it seems like he likes you,” giggles the girl. Benny feels Dodger lick his face and he laughs, nodding his head.

It’s odd, because the way she’s talking to him doesn’t seem to be disgusted: it seems like she’s legitimately upset that she might have upset him, in turn. He sees genuine concern in her expression, and that stuns Benny.

“Seems like he does, yeah.”

“I, um... He’s only a year old,” she says. “Still got a lot of that puppy energy in him. I’m really sorry...”

“Nah. I love it. I used to have a dog like this. I named ‘im Yankee. Dodger... Kinda funny, huh? L.A. Dodgers and New York Yankees, both of ‘em German Sheps.”

Benny laughs a little and notices her smiling at him, her eyes accepting and warm in a way he’s intoxicated by. He finds girls prettiest when they have that certain glimmer of kindness about them; a woman can be hot but ice cold inside, but the most beautiful of all women are the ones who treat him nicely. And man, she seems like the kinda person whose soul glows with that niceness and whose features reflect it.

She sits down on the grass next to him and Dodger sits between them, laying his head in her lap and his hindquarters in Benny’s lap. They both pet Dodger and get to talking; first about baseball, then about the weather, then about other things. Personal things. Things Benny’s forgotten he likes talking about.

They talk for what feels like only moments but turns into hours: before either of them know it, the sun is setting and its last rays are long, orange-red feathers falling to the ground. Her phone chirps and she checks it, gasping at the time.

“Is it that late already?”

“Oh, shit, you gotta be somewhere? I didn’t mean to keep ya, I’m so sorry--”

“No, no, Benny, it’s fine,” she says, smiling at him sweetly. “I just gotta get home for dinner and stuff. But, here, lemme just--”

She rummages in her purse and pulls out a notepad with pawprints on it, making Benny smile. Of course she has something that kitschy and cute. Of course. She also finds a little pink pen with a flowery print all along its casing, and as she writes on the pad, Benny sighs to himself.

He’s gonna remember her for a long, long time. And she’s gonna forget all about him. He leans his chin on his palm and watches her as she tears the note off the pad and folds it neatly, then hands it to him.

“My number,” she says. “So you can call and we can, I dunno, get coffee? Or dinner? This was... really fun. And I like you, Benny.”

“You... like me?”

“Yeah!” She laughs her clear laugh and meets his eyes again, completely genuine. “What’s not to like?”

He can think of a complete grocery list of things to hate in him, but he bites his tongue. After all, he does wanna see her again...

Benny tucks the note in his pocket and walks the girl and Dodger back to the pathway that leads out of the park, the two of them making quiet conversation in the last few minutes they have together. As she departs, Benny waves, then calls out to her, making her pause.

“Hey!” When she smiles, Benny feels a rise in his courage. “I will definitely call you!”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting!”

And she walks off, looking over her shoulder one last time to wave as she and Dodger disappear around a corner, leaving Benny alone, smiling to himself like a loon.

Yeah, he thinks to himself, he could really get used to this kinda life.

#messages #gif warning #benny lambo #banzai #a line in the sand #im.................unstoppable #Anonymous

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kokkoro · 7 years ago

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you and me (were meant to be) (1/3)

Her name is Clarke and she likes coffee and it takes you half a second to decide you like her.

or the ‘i just met you but there’s this couples contest on campus rn and all my friends are busy and you’re just sitting there reading on the quad, pls the prize is a Technivorm Moccamaster KBT 741 and my coffee machine broke last week and im dying pls i need my coffee’ au

(aka the couples competition au) (on ao3)

If asked you would say you were bribed. Or blackmailed. Something dramatic like that. Except you don’t even like coffee and the last time someone tried to force you to do something you didn’t want to do they ended up with a fist to the face and a bloody nose. What you do like though are pretty blonde girls in loose button-ups and tiny jean shorts and backward snapbacks, so in hindsight there really was no hope for you.

So you say yes, and it's this wobbly cracked thing that stumbles from the tip of your tongue in two pieces that’s only halfway out your mouth by time she’s pulling you to your feet.

“Come on,” she says, urging, her lips halfway to a grin and you’re already lost. “The competition starts in ten and we still haven’t signed up.”

You’re pulled from your spot in front of the library and into the thick of things without warning and she doesn’t let go of your hand in what you assume is a precaution against losing you to the droves of people congregating on the quad. This is what you imagine a stampede to feel like, the cacophony rattling and your breath lodged just below your throat, but you focus on her hand and everything thins. It’s the beginning of October, right when the chill of oncoming autumn is contested only by the sun’s last attempts at summer, but you know it more commonly as homecoming week.

There’s stands with food and drinks and the art students have dragged out displays and people crowd in a manner that makes at least some semblance of sense. Clubs and various organizations shout to be heard above the ruckus of the radio club, vying for the attention of the incoming freshman who wander through the chaos like lost souls in the styx.

You see the queue for the line by the practice field. It’s not long, but the sun’s in your eyes and Clarke turns the hat on her head to block it. She fiddles, lifting and shifting until it rests the way she wants it. It sits a little askew, her blonde hair ruffles and curls.

“Have you done this before?” she says.

You look away only to settle on a burly young man attempting to rip his shirt off, and you turn back to focus on Clarke. That’s also a terrible idea, so you shift to watch the line steadily move forward. “Gotten drafted into a couples competition by a stranger? No, I haven’t.”

“Enjoyed the festivities I mean.” Clarke says, and the small smirk she wears means your attempt at humor went better than planned. “Did I drag you away from something important?”

“Not particularly.” You’d actually be apart of it if you hadn’t been coerced into delegating the task to Anya. She had said you needed a break. Really, you think she just gets off seeing the freshmen's faces when they meet you for the first time and are lulled into a false sense of security. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it amusing in some ways.

“Good.”

The silence picks up, interspersed by the low chatter of the couple in front of you. The girl giggles, tucked into the side of her boyfriend and he bends to whisper something into her ear before pressing his mouth to the side of her head. She swats at him playfully, but her retaliation doesn’t last, her arms wrapping around his torso.

“Why me?” you ask softly and Clarke brows scrunch, confused, so you squeeze her hand and repeat: “Why me? Surely you’d have a better chance with someone else.”

Clarke snorts and looks ahead, standing briefly on her tip-toes to peer around the people in line in front of you, tilting the bill of her hat back. It’s another second before she says, nonchalant, “And be utterly heteronormative? Please. I didn’t spend my high school years struggling with my sexual identity to stop here.” She glances at you and maybe you’re imagining the way her eyes dart to your lips. “Plus all my friends were busy.”

Your heart thuds, a quick one-two beat, and you feel lost. It takes a second to pull yourself back. “What makes you so sure?”

“About what?” Clarke says with a slight smile.

You watch her watch you. “Me.”

“A hunch?” she says, raising her shoulders in an innocent shrug. “Am I right?”

She is. God, she is. Your eyes dart to her lips--to her eyes and the faint flush dusting her cheeks and you swallow before tearing your eyes away, but she lets out a small laugh and you’re right back to where you started.

“You have rainbow pin on your bag,” she points out, her voice soft and unassuming, and you look down despite knowing what you’ll find. You completely forgot you had that. “I figured the odds were in my favor. But if you’re not comfortable with, uh, this… thing, I… No hard feelings, really. You don’t have to do this.”

You move another pace forward, tugging her gently forward with you. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. “I want to.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, a grin slow to form on her lips. She squeezes your hand and you feel it light a fire in you. “Then lets kick some ass.”

You’re still staring at her by the time you make it to the front and the guy behind the table at the sign-in tent can’t keep the wry smile from his mouth. He taps his pen against the plastic fold-out table. “Welcome to the annual Official Unofficial King and Queen Competition. . .ladies,” he says, and Clarke scoffs quietly next to you, her thumb passing restlessly back and forth across your knuckles. “Here to sign up? You’re just in time. Names please.”

“Clarke and Lexa,” Clarke supplies easily, and the guy mmhmms as he scribbles chicken scratch onto a ledger. You catch Clarke eyeing the impressive coffee machine up for grabs, this superfluous monster of a machine that you’d swear could sooner do your taxes than make you a cup of coffee.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke and Lexa,” he says, peeling off two stickers from a roll by his right elbow and holding them out to you. “Stickers where we can see ‘em, alright? You can leave your belongings here is you want and the competition starts in five. All couples should be by the platform on the practice field by the start time, you know the deal. Good luck guys.”

You take yours somewhat awkwardly, stuck to your index finger, unsure of what to do with it until you see Clarke place hers on the sleeve of her button up, patting it down with this small determined look on her face. You place yours on your stomach, over the loose white tee you’re wearing, and then hand over your bag for safe-keeping.

Clarke takes your hand again a second later like it’s already a habit, threading your fingers together and wiggling, and you allow yourself to be led. From what you can see, the practice field is set up accordingly. There appears to be what seems like an obstacle course made out of some of the old football equipment set up at strategic points on the field. Even the few rows of bleachers have already started to fill out with spectators. They’re either friends of the competitors or those with down time during the festivities and looking for a laugh.

You’re not unused to the attention though it’s hard to not find it a tad unnerving. This is nothing short of a spectacle, meant for entertainment and the emotions and thrill competition brings, perhaps at the expense of your pride. You’ve learned from experience not to let it get to you. It makes you impulsive, a little bit reckless, and that’s not something you are. But now, as Clarke leads you up onto the platform and the adrenaline begins to prickle to life under your skin, you let it. You have a feeling you’ll need it.

The group of couples line up in a row and you and Clarke find a spot near the end of the line as one of the last few onto the stage. She sticks close, her arm around your waist and this small determined grin on her face as she scopes out the competition, looking up and down the line appraisingly. Watching her drowns out the noise, the persistent chatter of the other competitors and the far off white noise of the people filling out the stands.

Confidence looks good on her.

She snaps out of it the second someone tests the microphone and the sound blares loudly, her arm tensing around your waist. A few boos and curses issue out from the stands and your host, a tall, bright eyed man with shaggy hair and a slight beard, laughs. He shakes it off, tapping the microphone one more time to make sure it works as intended, before spreading his arms wide.

“Welcome!” his voice booms over the speakers, voice low and powerful, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You can feel the sound in your chest. “To the annual official unofficial Polis U King and Queen Competition!”

The man takes a moment to bask in the noise, scanning the crowd, smiling as random onlookers take notice of the commotion and try to find seats among the madness. “Today, these young lovers will seek to prove their worth in three grueling tasks for the right to become this year’s top couple. So sit back, relax, pick a favorite, they’ll need all the help they can get.”

“Are you ready?” you hear Clarke mutter, just barely over the noise, and you dip your head, angling towards her. You try not to look at her, but she turns to you then and your world seems to crumble, leaving nothing but the sight of her looking back at you.

“I was born for this, Clarke,” you tease, and her lips stretch into the widest grin.

“--first,” the hosts voice cuts through your self induced fog and you look back up and out over the crowd, trying to ignore the way Clarke holds you tighter. “Let us weed out the weak.”

A stagnant pause hangs over the training field

“Contestants!” the man continues, and there’s a certain satisfaction you find in the way a few of the men in line jump at the words that travel over the loudspeaker. “Spread out before you is an obstacle course designed to test your physical limits. Men, and women,” he corrects quickly at the sight of you, “must carry their ladies safely all the way across field to the end. But the catch,” he motions to a helper down on the field and they quickly toss up a brightly colored beach ball, “is that this must as well.”

“You are allowed,” he continues, “to use this ball to knock the other competitors ball out of their hands. You may not tackle, hit, or otherwise hurt your fellow competitors, but besides, be one of the first fifteen couples to cross the finish line and you’re through.”

Clarke pokes you in the side as you and the other competitors are herded off the platform and down onto the field. “How fast can you run?”

“Fast enough,” you say.

“I say we book it. Let the rest fight amongst themselves.”

You fight back a smile as you watch her out of the corner of your eye, taking a knee once you arrive at the starting line. You brace your hands against the grass and Clarke clambers onto your shoulders, her touch light against your back. When she finally settles, hands on your head, you hook your arms around her thighs and try to make sense of the extra weight. “Ready?” you say, tilting your head back and tapping her leg to get her attention. From the look on her face, you have an inkling she might be afraid of heights. “on three, two, one--”

You stand and Clarke’s grip tightens on your hair briefly, fingers tugging a bit at the strands, before the tension relaxes. She gathers her bearings, legs clenched around your shoulders, feet hooked on your sides. Any tighter and the circulation to your arms might cut off, but she takes a moment to center herself.

“I’m good,” she says, a bit too quickly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She holds out her hands and one of the event staff tosses up a blue beachball that she catches just barely. She lets out a slow breath, nodding to herself, and clutches the ball to her chest.

You find your place behind the line, watching the others settle in beside you. Some look lost. This palpable apprehension that seems to take hold in their eyes. They won’t make it twenty feet, you’re sure. The tall dark man with the broad chest and the small firecracker of a woman on his shoulders not ten feet down from you, however, is another story altogether.

Everything drowns away the second the countdown starts over the speakers. You feel kind of stupid, but there’s a pretty girl with her legs around your neck and everything else seems to fall away in comparison. She’s warm. Not to mention probably more embarrassed about this than you. Or at the least that’s what you find yourself hoping the second the countdown reaches zero and you bolt off as fast as you can towards the finish line.

Only to make it two feet before someone comes running at you from the side with a yellow beachball.

You manage a strangled “Clarke,” and she turns.

There’s a split second you take to brace yourself and Clarke is just as fast. She meets the impact head on, leaning in with her weight as you lurch to the side. The resulting impact causes the couple to jerk back and without the necessary balance they topple to the ground.

The crowd roars.

“Motherfucker,” you hear Clarke huff under her breath, and you try and fail to wipe the smirk from your face.

It’s awkward running with someone on your shoulders, you realize. You’re scared she’ll fall off, but if the numbness you’re beginning to feel in your arms is any indication as you step through a rows of tires spread out past the twenty yard-line, you think she’ll be okay.

You hear a chorus of shouts among the cheers from the stands and the slightly unnerving laughter behind you, but you don’t look back, keeping your focus on putting one foot in front of the other. You stumble out of the last tire and Clarke’s free hand is quick to tangle itself into your shirt to keep herself upright. It rubs roughly against your collarbones, and if nothing else it reminds you to breathe.

“Lexa,” she says a little breathlessly, releasing her hold. You feel her shift to glance at the commotion behind you, and you’re not sure if she’s scolding you or warning you as you sprint headlong into a barrage of standing football dummies.

They’re placed close together, which is good for you if a bit ridiculous to think about. Blue, red, yellow, red, blue--they pass in a blur, knocking against your elbows and Clarke’s knees. Somewhere to your left you have a feeling someone is close behind and when you burst through the thick of it you feel a little disorientated. The other couple overtakes you, taking advantage of your sudden stupor, and you know that means the others are not far behind.

You don’t remember the rest. It flies by as you attempt to gain back what you lost, unaware of much besides Clarke urging you on and the finish line not ten yards away. You come in second and you don’t realize you’ve finished until Clarke’s gleeful yelp, too focused on getting back the air you lost in that last made dash. She drops the beachball unceremoniously in favor of wrapping her arms around your neck and it only makes it harder to breathe. The sudden stop in forward momentum and the enthusiasm of Clarke’s excitement however, is all it takes to cause you to trip.

It’s much like crumbling, undignified and maybe a bit embarrassing. You manage to land somewhat on your butt, leaning heavily on your left arm with Clarke draped over your right shoulder and half in your lap. She’s laughing though, this bubbly thing that’s more a snort as she tries to pull herself the rest of the way over your shoulder. To little success. You try to help her and she nearly elbows you in the face.

She rolls off eventually, somersaults onto her back in the grass, her head near your thigh. She’s red in the face, hair wrestled free from the hat that had tumbled off just moments ago, and her chest heaves in gulps of air under her nearly untucked up button-up, but her smile -- god, her smile.

You lean over, blocking out the sun, breath coming in much more manageable intervals and wait for things to settle. Around you, a few more couples come running in and they’re careful to keep clear of the both of you. It’s a hard won break and you’ve earned these few moments of respite.

It’s a moment or two before Clarke finds the wherewithal to move, taking one last deep breath before propping herself up on her forearms. She smiles at you this time, little bits of grass in her hair, and it’s almost as if you’re the only thing that matters to her.

Standing, you brush the dirt from your palms on you jeans, and you pretend you don’t notice the way she watches you. Casually, cautiously. The curiosity in her eyes is hard to mask and you don’t think she cares. You bend to pick up her hat, smacking it against your thigh to dislodge the bits of dirt and grass and when you offer her your hand there’s no hesitance when she takes it.

“Thanks,” she says, finally back on her feet. She’s close and her words are soft and you give back her hat wordlessly. She flexes the bill until she’s satisfied with the feel, and you brush a few blades of grass from the strands of her hair. The grin that captures her lips is slow and soft like honey, and you’re surprised by the way it has you yearning. “What a way to kick things off, am I right?”

“I don’t do things moderately,” you say, tilting your head and taking the time to observe her back.

She looks up at you, amused. “Neither do I.”

Clarke turns the hat around in her hands, fiddling with its weight that she’s so suddenly taken by. You see the decision she makes then though. How it begins with this little nod and the determined set to her lips, and how it ends with her hat on your head.

It’s the moment you realize you want to know what it’s like to kiss her.

You’re herded back towards the other side of the field before you have a chance to really think about those thoughts. That doesn't mean you let go of Clarke’s hand even though the opportunity presents itself. You quite like how she twines her arm with yours and the gentleness she has as her thumb passes over your knuckles, soothing. It’s unconscious, like breathing, and so is the small peck you press to her temple as you wait--offhand and it surprising even you. You pull away, pretending to focus your attention back on the emcee.

The problem with that is, you find you only half pay attention. The announcements are background noise compared to the softness of her touch and you have to wonder if she’s aware of what she’s doing to you. It’s a tragedy then, that Clarke lets go of your hand long before you’re prepared for it and you look at her in mild confusion as she slips her fingers from yours. She gives a small shake of her head, brows knit adorably as if to ask what’s wrong, and you find it’s hard to voice the truth.

You watch as she accepts a blindfold from one of the event staff as he makes his way through the remaining couples and there’s no hesitation as she goes about securing it round her face, blocking her eyes. When she lets go it slips down over her eyes and this low laugh escapes you before you have a chance to reel it back in.

She looks at you disappointingly but lets you position her in front of you as you go about untying the knot she made.

“This is--” you give a generous tug and it holds tight “--quite the feat you’ve managed here, Clarke.”

“It’s tougher than it looks,” she says. You can’t see her eyes, but you can see the smile that curls the ends of her lips.

“I’m sure,” you mutter back, struggling for a few more seconds until the knot gives and you’re able to pull the fabric free.

You keep Clarke close as you reapply the blindfold to her eyes, laying it gently across the bridge of her nose and over her eyes. You secure it with a simple knot, careful to avoid getting the strands of her hair caught in the tangle.

“Everything feel okay?” you ask, running your fingers through her hair a few times to tame the mess you made. She doesn’t bring attention to it and you drop your hands from her hair before they betray you and they drift down to her lower back.

“Fine,” she says, and her head turns towards your voice. “It feels fine.”

You smile and it’s something you’re glad she can’t see. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Your hand near her back stays where it is, too content with the contact as your are. The other however, doesn’t move from your side. It’s a simple thing to forget to mention.

She hums, even though you’re sure she’s rolling her eyes at you from behind the blindfold. “Four.”

“Good guess.” You watch her lips curl into a grin, only vaguely aware of her left hand as it finds the fabric of your loose shirt and holds on. But you are all too aware of the feelings it ignites in you. “But no.”

Clarke huffs, though she looks unbothered by the development, stepping in closer so that she’s just shy of touching you. She smells like too much sun and the warmth it settles in you simmers just below your skin. If Anya could see you now, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Do you trust me?”

Clarke shrugs, leaning forward so that her nose bumps your shoulder. “Sure,” she says, the word muffled by your shirt. “I trust you.”

The noise over the microphone drowns out the words you don’t get to say, and Clarke picks her head up from where it was tucked against you. Her eyebrows furrow, concentrated, and you figure you should do the same.

There’s seven items down by the stage about a hundred feet away and while you and the remaining fourteen couples had rested and prepared, the event staff had taken the time to litter the open space with a new set of obstacles. Still mostly random football equipment (and a couple blow up halloween decorations) it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll have to guide Clarke through it by word alone.

You lead Clarke to the starting line, keeping hold of her hand until the emcee announces the countdown to start. When you let go, she looks a little lost without a tether to you, but there’s no time for reassurances as the air-horn sounds and the chaos erupts once again.

“Clarke--”

She locks on to your voice immediately, sight trained in your general direction. Among the slew of other voices, you wonder how she managed it, but she wastes no time in moving towards you. Her determination is to be admired at the very least.

“Clarke, slow down.”

“Not helping,” Clarke says in return, voice strained and arms outstretched, but she heeds your suggestion. “We don’t have forever, Lexa, where am I supposed to go?”

You take quick stock of your surroundings--the other stumbling couples, the tires and football dummies and random beachballs--and come to a quick conclusion. Just because you can’t lead her through it yourself, doesn’t mean you can’t walk it with her.

You stand in front of her, counting your steps until you can’t move forward anymore, a large blue football dummy blocking the way. “Six steps forward,” you call back to her. “No--no,” and she stops, “--no turning, just forward.”

Clarke huffs, but starts back up immediately, careful to keep in a straight line, and you get out of her way. She stops a bit short of the dummy, but for the most part you’d consider it a success. “Now what?”

“One big sidestep to the right,” you reply, and then you start all over again.

There’s a process to it, an almost rhythm that the two of you settle into as you make your way through the makeshift course piece by piece and Clarke listens intently. Without touch it’s a slow careful pace. By the time your feet away the crowd is a constant stream of shouts and you struggle to be heard over the chorus.

The moment she picks up the stuffed animal by the stage, the first sound of the air-horn blaring out across the practice field, and she tugs down the blindfold to see the evidence in her hands, the realization is slow to come. But when it does, it’s all consuming.

Clarke looks to you with wide disbelieving eyes and then back to the toy in her hand and lets out a little scream. Her body buzzes with energy, high off the feeling, and hurls herself at you, arms cinched around your neck and pulling the air from your lungs.

You stumble a few steps back, your right hand reaching up to stop her hat from falling off your head while the other finds its place around her waist. It keeps the two of you upright in the rush that follows. It doesn’t temper her excitement, however. In fact, it heightens it, and she bounces on the balls of her feel while her hug reaches bone breaking levels. You feel as if you’ve run another mile, but you consider the reward worth it.

“Clarke,” you say, and it's breathy from the air you can’t seem to inhale and she pulls away still holding your hand.

She studies you for a moment before shifting her attention to the field as the other couples snag the remaining items to qualify them for the next round. There’s a fire in her eyes and it burns when she turns back to you. “I think we can win this.”

You exhale and it escapes quietly among the noise, but you watch her and it’s her windswept hair, flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Her breathing comes in long steadying inhales, as if she’s collecting all the courage there deep in her gut. You wonder if that’s how it works; through sheer force of will.

“Does that mean you doubted me before?” you say, teasing, and she tugs the bill of the hat down over your eyes. Warmth floods to your chest and a smirk is quick to steal your lips. You clutch her hand tighter, but when you tilt the bill up again, she’s not looking at you anymore.

It's the moment you feel most lost in her.

You have this odd sense of dread when a small part the field is cleared in front of the platform and the staff hands out blindfolds to the remaining contestants. Clarke offers to tie it for you, slightly smug, and you decline the offer only because having her hands in your hair sounds like the beginning of a disaster. You wait until the last possible minute though, when they’re leading Clarke away and suddenly you find you’d rather be staring at the inside of a black cloth than watching her walk away from you.

It’s a bit dramatic to think, yes, but it feels like the truth.

You don’t quite know what’s going on but you let yourself be led, pliant as someone places you in an indeterminable spot on the field. The wait isn’t long though and you’re thankful. It's hardly a minute later when the microphone crackles and the man’s familiar voice picks up over the speakers.

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen. The ultimate test. The couples must find their way back together. Without sight, without sound. Only touch.” the crowd ohhhs and wolf whistles and you roll your eyes behind the blindfold. “You have five minutes. Good luck.”

The first hand you hold is large, calloused, and the touch lasts no longer than five seconds before the both of you let go and move on. The second is smaller, slender, and it makes you pause. Your mouth opens slightly, but you remember yourself, closing it before anything has a chance to make it out. They hold you too tight and it takes them a moment to realize you’re not holding them back.

The third… The tips of their fingers finds your arm--the point of your elbow, fingers cold and hesitant. they trail down the inside of your forearm and it feels like forever, but when she folds her hand into yours, her thumb brushing softly over your knuckles, you accept it gently.

Something in you flutters, right there in your chest. High and light and it’s a bit like losing the ability to breathe. Like having the wind knocked from your chest, but carefully, and how it fills again, softly. So you step in closer and breathe in, pressing your lips softly to her temple.

She squeezes your hand tighter and that’s the end of that.

(somewhere off in the stands you hear a few people cheer and it’s enough to quirk your lips against her skin)

You don’t know how long you stand there, but it's probably barely minutes, and when you get the okay, you hook a finger around the blindfold and tug it down. Clarke’s eyes are the first thing you see. Blue and a hint of sun. She raises your linked hands into the air, a triumphant gesture, and you can’t help but laugh when the crowd seems to agree.

The both of you, along with the two other couples who passed, are herded up onto the stage once things settle. Clarke tugs you, your linked hands hanging between the two of you, as she bounds up the steps with you in tow. The grin hasn’t left her face since the little show-off down on the field and it only grows under the attention. You’re the first up onto the stage and you move down to make room for the others.

The emcee starts with the couple closest to the steps. You recognize them to be the couple you saw at the beginning. The fire is still very much evident, but there’s a softness in the way the man has his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, her body tucked comfortably into his side, her arm slung low around his hips. He catches you watching, and the knowing smile and quirked brow he shoots back at you makes you feel just a tad self-conscious. But there’s not much to look at besides Clarke, and the time it takes to succumb to that notion you already feel like you’ve proven his point.

So you don’t deny it, idly tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. At least not to yourself.

“And who have we here?”

The suddenness of the words surprises you and you turn your attention to the emcee and the microphone he reaches towards Clarke. There’s not an ounce of hesitation on her face.

“Clarke,” she says, and you can tell she’s enjoying this far too much. “This is Lexa.”

“And how long have you two been together?”

Clarke pulls a little away to look at you, amusement stretched wide across her face, carried in the apple of her cheeks and the grin she tries to fight off and the words just kind of fall out your mouth. “It feels like forever.”

The emcee laughs, nudging you with his elbow. “Is that good or bad?”

“Definitely good,” you reply, still focused on Clarke and that almost awed look she’s giving you.

“Do you think you have what it takes to win?”

You acknowledge him finally. “Yes.” There’s no hesitation in you either.

“What do you think?” he boasts, turning to address the audience. “Who should take home the coveted title?”

A mess of noise surrounds you, rising up, and it’s hard to make out heads or tails of anything. But what you can hear are chants of ‘kiss, kiss, kiss,’ echoing from the stands and its metronome is a steady beat amongst the growing chaos.

Satisfied with the reaction, the emcee turns to you and the other couples, grinning. “Well, you heard the crowd. Who’s first?”

The couple at the opposite end doesn’t wait, the small woman taking hold of her boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and dragging him down. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, smiling against it and pushing back when the surprise wears off and the reaction from the stands is immediate.

There’s whistling and hoots from friends in the stands and a middle finger courtesy of the girl wrapped around her boyfriend, but from what you can discern from the energy, it’s all in good fun.

The second couple, a tall, shy young man and his equally tall girlfriend, share a soft kiss that ends far too quickly for the audience's liking, but the girl laughs, hands cupping the back of her boyfriends head and leaning in again to peck his flushed cheeks with a quick, thankful kiss.

It’s when the noise dies down again that you realize there’s no one left but you.

Before you can comprehend it, Clarke takes you by the hips with such bravado you momentarily lose your train of thought, eyebrows wiggling in an attempt at alleviating the sudden tenseness she must feel in you. There’s a lopsided little tilt to her lips, but she waits for you, the crowd silent and watchful, and if you weren’t sure before, you are now.

You probably love her and the craziness of that thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You cup her cheeks in your hands, and you feel more than hear the soft gasp she takes. You’d swear you could feel it under the tips of your fingers as you lean in, all slow and tortuous, noses touching first. Her breath fans across your mouth, uneven and a little bit nervous. Or perhaps that’s you, because you’re sure it’s her who closes the last few centimeters like she can’t take the thought of waiting a second longer and the cheer that erupts from the crowd is lost somewhere in the mess of your mind.

Maybe, you think. Maybe she’s just as breathless as you.

#clexa #clarke griffin #lexa #this was supposed to be stupid/fun and without stress but then it turned into a project #cc au #its basically all done tho so updates will be on sundays

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