#i forgot his flannel in the second one just ignore that

[larsbarsart]

fucking.....

I might actually be insane

I have made an AU where I just. Slapped Mount Ebott from Undertale into Alabama's Appalachian Region, and Tim, about a year post Entry #87 decides to climb it for reasons I think you can figure out, finds Frisk and thinks "Well, shit, I can't just leave this actual child to die", and then falls into the Underground after Frisk

Anyways, this man is mentally ill, and due to circumstances that I've made up, he is now a father to a very stubborn ten-year-old child.

The images I traced over that I snatched from pinterest

[oh-no-its-dragons]

So this is from what @sarcasticmothwrites and I arw calling the Divorce AU, it's a modern second chances Imrrick romance sort of... thing? And single dad Garrick is my new favorite thing to write when I'm having an annoying day.

All of that to say: enjoy Single Dad Garrick Vs The Kitten

"Mama! Mama guess what?!" Rory was already yelling as she flung herself out of the back seat of Garrick's truck.

"I wanna tell!" Lyn yelled directly in Garrick's ear as he helped gather their things out of the back seat.

"Daddy got a cat!" Rory continued, completely ignoring her sister.

Imogen was already smirking when Garrick and a stompy Lyn came over. "You can tell me too, Lynny, I don't think I heard right."

Lyn perked up immediately. "Daddy got a kitten! He's tiny and black and makes little chirpy noises like a bird but Daddy says he'll learn to speak cat too."

"You gave in and let Rory get a ca?" Imogen asked him and Garrick blushed. "I guess I shouldn't complain because she'll stop asking us now."

"Not exactly."

"Then tell me how, exactly?"

--

"Daddy it says there's a *kitten event* today! Can we go look at kittens? Puhleeeeze?" Rory asked as they walked up to the Target. Garrick hadn't even noticed the sign out in front of the pet store chain next door, but he figured he'd try redirecting and see if they forgot.

"After we're doing getting you new rainboots! Remind me when we're leaving," he said, ushering Rory and Lyn into the large store. They emerged an hour later with sugar cereal, crayons, princess toothbrushes, new pajamas and no boots, and before Garrick could even remember that he was trying to keep them from noticing something, Lyn was pointing.

"Daddy! Kittens!" she shouted, and Rory stopped where she was. "You promised!" they chorused together.

Garrick sighed. "Okay, but we're just visiting kittens, we're not getting a cat, okay?"

"Okay!" both girls chorused together.

They stepped into the pet store cautiously. Garrick looked left and right, spotted the sign for the kittens, and tried to point the girls in that direction. Rory happily ran ahead, while he had to grab Lyn's hand out of the open bin of dog treat cookies before the two of them could follow.

Rory was already pressed up against one of the cages when they caught up to her, and Lyn immediately joined her. A shelter volunteer running the event came over to talk to them.

"We're just looking," Garrick told her, "no matter what the girls tell you."

The woman smiled, introducing the girls to the kittens in the first cage. There was a calico, a pair of friendly Siamese kittens, a grey one with a white tip on its tail...

"Can we play with them?" Rory asked. "Please?"

The volunteer looked at Garrick, who shrugged. "We're not getting a kitten, you shouldn't make more work for her."

"Oh, I don't mind. It's good for the kittens to get handled."

"You girls listen to everything she says," Garrick told them, one big hand on each girl's head to make sure he had their attention. "Gentle hands with the kittens and *don't get attached*. Understood?"

"Yes!" both girls chorused.

So the volunteer led them inside the separated little area, with Garrick following in behind the girls and trying to find an unobtrusive corner in the small space. The volunteer gave them a few toys and then placed one kitten in each girl's lap. Garrick got his phone out and started taking pictures- they were cute as buttons, and he figured at least a few of his shots would turn out good enough to send to Imogen.

The girls played with kitten after kitten, some of them friendlier than others. One white kitten panicked in Lyn's lap and climbed up her sleeve. Lyn froze, whimpering at the kitten's sharp claws through her shirt, and Garrick reached down and plucked the kitten up by the neck.

The cat let go of Lyn's sleeve and almost immediately twisted around in Garrick's grip, clawing it's way up his flannel shirt onto his shoulder and curling up next to his ear.

The kitten started purring.

"So what's this little guy's story?" Garrick asked the volunteer.

"The other kittens from his litter have all found homes, but he's a little skittish." She pointed to the poster on the wall showing recent adoptees Yakko, Wakko, Dot and the Brain. "Pinky's really a sweetheart if you don't mind the claws, though."

Pinky was purring loud enough that Garrick was pretty sure he'd be able to hear it from the other side of the store.

Rory and Lyn seemed to have hit the limits of their attention span. Rory put the kitten she'd been playing with back in it's cage with the volunteer's help, while Lyn helpfully tidied up the toys.

"We're ready to go!" Rory announced.

Lyn giggled. "Daddy, you forgot one of the kittens!"

Garrick reached up and picked up the white kitten, gently cradling it. Somehow it looked even smaller cupped in his hands.

"Daddy? You have to put the kitten down," Rory said, her hands on her hips. "You said we don't get attached."

Pinky stretched and sank his claws back into the cuff of Garrick's flannel shirt.

"I think he's attached to me," Garrick looked helplessly at the volunteer. "So what do I have to do to bring Pinky home?"

[fastcardotmp3]

The White Rabbit (Part 1/3)

Because Eddie does a headcount. 

And there are five people, not four, standing at the bottom of this dried up lake, and one of them is tearing the final bat in half with his bare hands. 

Robin chokes, hunches over and vomits straight onto the ground.

Fair enough, considering they’re looking at Steve Harrington. 

Fair enough, considering they’re looking at a dead man. 

read on ao3 | playlist

steddie - 17k words - rated M excerpt under the cut

“I’m,” Eddie clears his throat, which has Robin looking at him closely, “I’m. Cashing in on it.” 

Steve’s shoulders slump, unimpressed deadpan to his tone as he repeats, “cashing in on it.” 

“Yep,” Eddie grins as smarmy and smug as he can. “You, Steve Harrington, owe me a favor. In case you forgot.” 

“Since when?” Steve makes a face, all scrunched towards the center with befuddled disbelief like Eddie has just said something of personal offense to him. 

Eddie, for his part, can’t help but grin when Steve makes that face. 

“Since forever, probably,” he shrugs, “who cares, but you definitely owe me for something at some point since you’re, y’know, a fuckin’ bastard and a half, so I’m cashing in.” 

Steve stares him down, scowl only growing as Eddie stares at him right back with a closed-lipped smirk of a grin, Robin looking between the two of them like she’s watching a tennis match for all of three seconds of silent communication until she’s snorting, throwing her hands up, and walking in between the two of them with the declaration— 

“I’m taking my ten. Or, like, my however long this takes.” 

She waggles her fingers at Steve in a little wave and Steve, in return, rolls his eyes in a way that’s far too fond for the interaction, but which makes sense with the synced-up movement as Robin disappears into the back through the door and Steve hops through the window and take her place up front. 

A well-oiled machine, the two of them, but not the point of Eddie crashing their work day. 

“Do I actually owe you a favor or is this your way of telling me you got new stock in?” Steve leans forward onto his hands at the counter in the same moment when Eddie leans back with the cross of his arms over his chest, flannel tied around his waist swaying with the motion. 

“I mean, you definitely owe me a favor,” Eddie shrugs, “but both things can be true.” 

“You realize I pay you, right? With cash?” Steve snarks, and it’s such a thing with him, tone, that Eddie feels like he’s constantly relearning how to read the book of Harrington, the layers of distaste and amusement and genuine good guy syndrome hidden somewhere underneath. “Is that not favor enough any-fucking-more?” 

“Oh, dear Steve,” Eddie smirks, forces it out despite the roll of his gut that he’s chosen to ignore for now and also forever thank you very much, “the money is for the good shit, but you helping me fix the rail on my porch is for, y’know, the kid tax.” 

Steve makes a face. He’s kind of the king of making faces, and faces that work their way between Eddie’s ribs specifically, but this isn’t something Steve’s gonna win with a quirk of the brow and a frown to his lips. 

The kid tax is Eddie’s own personal self destruct mode after all– the kind designed to take anyone in the remote vicinity down with him– it’s all his fear wrapped up in a set of rules that no one but him knows in their entirety and it affects Steve Harrington’s drug habit pretty exclusively. 

Steve is all reluctant exasperation in a little hat as he all but actually rolls his eyes at Eddie. He looks away, looks everywhere except Eddie’s eye, and grumbles, “I get off at six.” 

The most telling part about that?

Eddie hasn’t really won either. 

read on ao3

[princetorn]

In the morning, Wesley would creep downstairs alone to clean up all the wreckage; the broken glass, the mangled cabinet door, the blood spattered and dried up on the edge of the counter. All of it would be swept aside in silence, scrubbed and tidied with aching hands until the evidence had all been washed away. And when he was finished, he would tug on his boots and head out for chores at sunrise — he knew, because he’d done it so many times before. He knew, because he’d probably have to do it again.

But tonight, he was more worried about the opinion of the man he’d unintentionally kept waiting.

He didn’t want to get blood all over Royce’s fancy car, so he hovered outside, shameful, hideous. ( Wesley never broke a promise. ) It felt bad enough to see it smeared all over the other’s white shirt; still, it was easier to replace than precious machine, Royce’s baby, the one he held without fear of being seen. It was worth way more than some backwards farm boy ever could be.

Rust and cotton swayed double in a swollen eye, a rotten stain Wesley longed to wring out in the wash. He felt the apology stutter past his lips before numb tongue could even speak: it wasn’t meant to be this way, I know it ain’t what you had planned, I didn’t want you to think I forgot…

As if Wesley would ever be the one to leave Royce hanging. As if he hadn’t been looking forward to their meeting all day, as if he hadn’t risked his hide sneaking out to see him even after getting beat — but it didn’t really matter now, after he’d gone and ruined everything. What kind of guy shows up for a date looking like he’s just been dragged through the gutter?

( Except this wasn’t exactly a date, and he knew it. He’d never be foolish enough to call it that out loud. But if clandestine meetings were all they could get, then what else was he supposed to call it? Stupidity? … Sin? He felt the same no matter what. )

“I can get you a new shirt,” Wesley finally muttered, after a long beat of silence. He even tried standing on his own for a second, without Royce balancing his unsteady weight; ignoring the way he swayed, ignoring the way it hurt, because he already made himself look bad enough. He never liked being a burden very much, anyway.

“I’m real sorry. I’m alright. Just wanted to see you, I guess.”

A mess, his boy was a mess – that thought was dangerous, reckless, but it sank its teeth into Royce all the same. The air hung humid around them, choked with the scent of honeysuckle and gasoline. Cutting through it, the sharp, metallic tang of blood. Wesley stood slouched before him, a tangle of rumpled flannel and sticky, scabbing abrasions, apologetic in a way that made his stomach twist.

Even in this sorry state, Wesley was beautiful. It was the kind of beauty Royce didn’t dare think about too much about, but was equally impossible to ignore. He swallowed hard against it now, jaw tightening as Wesley tried to pull himself straighter, to seem stronger than he was, as if pretending might plaster over the splits in his skin, or purge the bruises that no doubt bloomed deep and dark on hidden skin.

“You ain’t alright,” Royce said at last, his voice low and steady, the words catching somewhere low in his throat, rasping like gravel. Fingers curled around Wesley’s arm, not only to steady him but to keep him still, but to make him stop pretending. “And you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

God, it hurt to look at him – at the way one eye had swollen shut, at the streaks of blood darkening the collar of his flannel. Royce’s fingers pressed into the warmth of Wesley’s pulse, feeling it run quick and uneven. For a moment, the world narrowed to that fragile rhythm, to the beat of someone alive and here and needing him.

Who did this? Royce almost asked, though he could make an educated guess. It was written in every weepy cut, in the way Wesley winced when he swayed and shifted his weight, in the silence that stretched between them like static. Blood that ran hot came to a fast boil, fury bubbling along with a desire to root his baseball bat from the trunk of his car, to storm the homestead and split the bastard’s skull, to break the hands that had hurt Wesley.

“I don’t give a damn about my shirt,” Royce said after a long moment, his hand still holding firm and warm, a flesh-and-blood cuff on Wesley’s arm. “You think I care about a shirt when you show up lookin’ like this?”

Wesley’s dark eye glistened in the orange-stained light of a solitary streetlamp. Something flickered there – shame, maybe, or gratitude. Whatever it was, it forced Royce to look away, his heart tightening like a fist. His gaze strayed to Little Sweetheart, her familiar curves and gleaming chrome catching the moonlight. It was safer to think of the car, to think of pistons and gears, than to let himself drown in the sight of Wesley, or lose himself to the pulse that drummed beneath his fingertips.

“C’mon, let me drive you,” Royce said at last, his voice softening as he looked back. He released Wesley only to slip an arm around his waist, drawing him close again, inviting him to lean into the solid heat of his body. In the lamplight, their shadows merged into one, many-limbed beast.

From his back pocket, Royce pulled a handkerchief, creased but clean. As he pushed it into Wesley’s hand, their fingers brushing in a fleeting, electric touch that hot-rodder felt all the way to his bones, all the way to his marrow.

“Just… let me take care of you for a little while.”

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and To Heal (Part 6)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin Ødegaard is late.

Being a teacher, tardiness isn't something you normally tolerate. But when the offender is a tall, fit, blonde, Norwegian man that you have a massive crush on, you guess you can grant him a pass. 

You fiddle with the hem of your glittery gold dress, absently wondering if it's too much. You stared at it on the mannequin in the Chanel window display for what felt like hours before you decided you had to have it. You rationalized your outrageous purchase by saying it was a birthday present to yourself, ignoring the fact that you'd bought a pair of boots and said the same thing the week prior. Looking your best tonight was a non negotiable, and as soon as you tried the dress on you knew you had to have it.

Did you nearly drain your savings to afford it? Yes. Do you care? Not really, when you're positive Martin might lose his head at the sight of you in it.

The gold, half-sheer fabric hugs your body in all the right places. The fitted sleeves stop an inch above your wrist, allowing you to showcase the thin gold tennis bracelet passed down by your mum a few years back. The dress falls to your mid thigh, showing plenty of skin whilst also not causing a scandal among your colleagues. The metallic threads woven throughout catch in the club lights, attracting attention from all corners of the room but not from the man you crave most, because he's still to arrive. 

Half heartedly, you wonder if he's forgotten. Or perhaps the lads invited him out at the last minute and Martin decided that a night drinking with his friends sounded more appealing than hanging around at a teacher’s birthday party. 

Jen presses a drink into your hand, confident as ever in her fitted blue party dress. No matter where you are, she is usually the star of the show, but today you’re somewhat glad she’s turned it down a notch. "Quit staring at the door, live a little. He'll show up and if he doesn't, well then guess what! I'll help you find someone to forget about him." Jen touches your elbow, guiding the glass in your hand to your lips. "Drink! Have fun! Let loose and live for once in your life!"

Without a second thought, you down your drink amidst cheers from your friends, slamming the glass to the table when you've finished it. You make eye contact with Martin when you do, who's just walked in the door looking devilishly handsome as always. 

Martin's blonde hair is perfectly messy, one little strand sticking straight up like he'd nervously fiddled with it outside. He wears a red and black flannel unbuttoned over a plain black shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans that his muscular thighs look set to rip out of at any second. Even his shoes are modest, a simple pair of white high top converse. The only thing about him that screams money is the silver watch on his wrist; without it he may as well be an average London boy out for a night of fun. 

Somehow, he's even more gorgeous dressed like this than when he's wearing all designer or an Arsenal tracksuit. You love his modest appearance, like he'd chosen each piece with you in mind, to ensure he did everything he could to keep the spotlight off himself and firmly on you. It's sweet, as is the way he grins when you wave to him. 

Martin comes over and places a book sized box on the table before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Happy birthday, Sunshine,” he says, the greeting rolling off his tongue as easily as a plain hello. “Sorry I’m late.”

"Thanks," you squeak out, then clear your throat. You're determined to get through this night without embarrassing yourself, so you try a touch of banter and say, "I was beginning to worry you forgot about little old me! Party started at eight and it's now… nearly nine, Mar!"

"Ah yes, sorry I know,” Martin apologizes, and you swear a bit of pink finds it’s way to color his cheeks. “It's just that Atla wouldn't let me leave and I wound up having to bribe her with a new set of paints I had been saving for her birthday to convince her to stop clinging to my leg like a little animal." 

Oh God, how selfish of you! Of course Atla wouldn't want her dad to leave her, especially when she isn't used to him going out except for matches, when he'd be gone for days at a time. It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that he wouldn’t want to leave until he knew Atla was settled. 

"Right, I'm sorry! Of course that's why you're late, I shouldn't have assumed. That’s adorable though, that she loves her daddy so much that she couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving!"

Martin waves a hand, his voice like silk as he says, "Ah please it's alright. I should've messaged you or something. Though I would've had to email you through your school account, which you probably wouldn't have seen anyway, I doubt you check that on nights out."

Maybe it's the fact that you've already had enough to drink that you're feeling slightly buzzed, or maybe it's simply your new confidence in this dress, but you hold out your phone to Martin, a blank contact on the screen. "Put your number in then! I'll message you and you'll have it in the future then."

Looking slightly stunned, Martin takes your phone and types in his number before handing it back. "There you go- this is for you by the way, Sunshine," he says and nods towards the box he brought, a timid smile on his pale lips. 

You run your fingers over the red wrapping paper and fiddle with the loops of the bow in the center. "You can call me by my first name, you know, Martin. I thought we were friends and all that?" 

"Ah, but I like Sunshine better… how about if I call you solskinn instead? Would that be acceptable?" 

This man… you swear he knows exactly how to make you fall head over heels. It doesn't seem like he even realizes what he's doing which is the most mind blowing part- how can someone not realize the effect they have on another person? 

You smile when you realize Martin is waiting patiently for an answer and stutter out, "um- yeah, yes that's fine Mar… I'm gonna wager a guess that it's just Sunshine in Norwegian?" When Martin nods, you feel heat creeping up your cheeks, desperately willing them to not burn too brightly. "Yeah, I like that then Martin, you can call me that."

"Good, because it goes with the gift I got you. Go ahead and open it! I'm excited to see if you like it." Martin shifts a foot closer to you until he's inches away. You aren't sure if you're imagining the heat radiating from him or if it's truly there, either way you don't care. When you turn your head to look up at him before you rip off the paper, you have to crane your neck to see his pretty smile and the impatient glint in his eye. His beauty stuns you for a moment, the alcohol in your veins inhibiting your good sense and whispering that it’s a perfectly fine idea for you to stare at him a touch longer than you probably should. 

Jen's sharp elbow to your side brings you back to reality as your best friend saves you for the first time that night. You smile awkwardly at Martin then tear into his gift, gasping when you see the brand embossed in the white box.

"Chanel? Martin what did you do?! I can't accept this-" without opening the lid, you try shoving it towards Martin. Whatever it is, you know it isn't cheap. Martin shouldn't be dropping hundreds of pounds on you when he has Atla at home. 

"Honestly solskinn please, just open it," he murmurs, sliding it towards you again. His hand finds a place between your shoulder blades as he leans in to be heard over the music, "It's customized so I am not allowed to return it anyway. Trust me I can afford it! Please just open it and see. If you truly hate it, I'll pawn it off to one of the lads' girlfriends or something."

Ah, right. It can't be anything too personal then. Hopefully it's something small, though knowing Martin and that look on his face, it's the exact opposite. Taking a deep breath, you place one hand on either side of the box and bring it in front of you. You aren’t sure why you’re so nervous to see what he’s picked out, but something tells you that everything is about to change. 

You pull at the lid, wiggling it free. You're acutely aware of Jen's eyes burrowing into your skull as you peel back the white tissue paper, Martin's hand burning a brand into your skin through the material of your dress. "I hope you like it," he murmurs as you pull out a small, white leather crossbody bag with a tiny sun emblazoned above the clasp. You run your fingers over the gold chain strap and the embossed decoration, not having any idea what to say.

Martin fiddles nervously on your left. Your back suddenly grows cold when he removes his hand, raking his fingers through his hair instead. You're stuck staring at his gift, awestruck by the thought he's put into it as much as its price tag. 

"Uhh… do you like it? If you don't just tell me-"

"I love it," you interrupt, eyes wide when you turn to him. "Honestly Martin it's perfect- thank you so much!"

Without thinking, you throw your arms around Martin's neck for a bone crushing hug. Every muscle in his body goes rigid for a split second, like he's warring with himself. Then his arms engulf you and you nearly sigh when you’re slotted into the perfect fit of his embrace. He's warm and soft in all the right places. Calm- that's how you feel in the moment, as if a hug from Martin is all you needed to erase your frantic thoughts and worries. 

"You're welcome," he says into your hair, so quietly that you nearly miss it. You want to cling to him for the entire night, but you force yourself to release him after a few more precious seconds. 

“I really do love it, Mar. It’s such a thoughtful gift.” You allow yourself to touch your fingers to the back of his hand, trying to encourage him to let loose and be himself. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t, I thought maybe it was a bit too much. I wasn’t sure on the color either, I had no idea there was so many choices for things!” You laugh, imagining Martin looking like a lost child in the store until someone took pity and offered him help. “The salesperson was really helpful though, she said white was classic and that you’d probably like gold cause most people choose that with this bag and… and I’ve gone off on a tangent, haven’t I?”

You tip your head to the side, studying Martin as you say, “have you? I didn’t really notice to be honest. I don’t mind listening to you chat. Really, I’m a good listener, I’m used to toddlers telling me the most mundane details.”

“Ha- yeah I suppose that must be true, Atla always wants to tell me every little detail on our way home, right down to what colors she painted the trees with in art that day.” When Martin speaks about his daughter, his entire face lights up. You can tell how much he cares for her, how immense his pride is for his little art prodigy. 

If you had it your way, you'd stay here chatting to Martin all night. You have books full of questions to ask him, things you want to know about his life, his passions, his family, his culture… but your friends apparently have other plans. 

"Haaaapy biiiirthday to you!" 

You internally groan, spinning on your heel and being greeted with a round cake overflowing with candles. 

"Haaapy birthdaaaay to youu!"

Jen grins, stepping into your personal space and forcing you back a step, causing you to knock into Martin to avoid getting a face full of burning birthday cake. Martin's hand shoots out to your waist, steadying you. You're focused entirely on his touch whilst your friends finish their song. It takes an enormous amount of willpower to pay attention and keep a grin plastered on your face to cover the way Martin's hand makes you want to scream. It doesn't move until you lean forward to blow out the candles and everyone claps, Jen giving you a look that tells you she's set her master plan into motion. 

After you've cut and divided out the cake, you finally find your way over to Martin. He stands mostly alone, for once flying under the radar in an establishment full of uni students and young adults that couldn't care less about a football player amongst them. He leans with one arm on a high table whilst he chats to one of the people you'd invited. Martin does a double take as you approach, swaying your hips slightly while he quickly wraps up his conversation. 

"Do you want any cake? Or does your strict diet not allow for any fun, sugary foods?"

Martin laughs, a musical, magic sound that you instantly want to bottle so you can hear it whenever you please. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not allowed to have any cake tonight. I am about to get a drink though, would you like anything?" 

"Mmm, seems a bit backwards if you ask me, but alright I'll buy it. I'll have whatever you're having? And I'll come with you." You add the lastbit on impulse, glad you did when Martin's face lights up. 

You follow Martin through the crowd, grabbing his flannel at one point to avoid being separated in the sea of people. Martin slows his pace when he realizes you're struggling, then reaches a hand towards you for you to take. 

Time seems to slow to the point of molasses around you when your hand slots into his. You swear a jolt of electricity sings through you when your palm slides against his calloused one, fitting perfectly together like a matched pair. He guides you through the crowd with ease, like this somehow isn’t giving him the same butterflies as it’s giving you. 

Is Martin doing this on purpose? Does he realize the effect he has on you, or is it simply a coincidence that everything he's doing tonight sets your heart on fire? You don't care either way, you just pray it's not a one time thing. 

Martin hesitates at the bar and you get the feeling he doesn't want to let go. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn't have to but you're far too slow, and he drops your hand before you can get a word out. A stone of disappointment settles in your gut as you fold your empty hands in front of you. 

Martin orders two of a drink you've not heard of before. Whatever it is seems fancy because it takes ages, which you're very aware of thanks to the silence that stretches between you. Martin's mood has changed in the time it's taken to get from the table to the bar and you have no idea why. You hate it, you want the Martin from five minutes ago. You want the Martin that hugged you and was soft as downy clouds, not this steely, closed off version of him.

When the drinks come, Martin slides one your way and says, “If you don’t like it, I can get you something else.” Fruity bursts cover the slight burn of alcohol when you take a sip. The drink goes down easy, and before you realize it you’ve finished half. You grin, setting your glass on the bar. 

“It’s good! I like it, you’ll have to tell me what it is so I can order it more often. Although I have to admit, I took you for a straight whisky kinda guy.” Your shoulder bumps Martin’s in an attempt to loosen him up. It works at least slightly; some of the tension drains from him. That light you love dances in his eyes again, the blue of his irises even brighter somehow.

Hold on- love? No, no. You don’t love anything about Martin… You can’t, he’s your student’s father, but… what an amazing father he is. You’ve not met a man like Martin, who balances such a demanding job with being the perfect father. Atla loves him so much and you would have to be blind not to see how much he loves her as well. His world revolves around his blue eyed, blonde haired, outgoing little girl. 

And that is precisely why you’re falling for him. It isn’t slow anymore. It’s more like a plane crash, sending you into a helpless, tumbling free fall that has you toppling arse over teakettle. There’s no denying it anymore. You may as well admit it. 

Taking a deep breath, you gather every bit of courage you possess. “Martin- can I ask you something?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. Your thoughts are treason. You don’t care. You’ll pay whatever price the universe demands to know the answer to the question that has been plaguing you for ages. 

Martin glances over at you, runs a strong hand through his hair. He cheats his body towards you, elbow bent as he leans on the bar and says, “um, yeah sure. What is it?”

You barrel ahead before you can change your mind. “I just- would you wanna go out some time? Like, as… as maybe more than friends?”

At first, Martin looks like he might laugh, as if he thinks you’re joking. His cute little dimples come out to play for only a second. Then his expression morphs into disbelief, then something almost like disgust as it dawns on him that you’re completely serious. 

You hate yourself. You hate him. No, you don’t. You just wish you could erase your words, pull them back and keep them locked up deep inside your heart where they belong. You’ve let yourself be vulnerable for the first time in as long as you can remember, and now that decision will haunt you. 

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that,” Martin says, taking a step back, one hand pressed hard to the center of his chest. “Sorry but I- I have to go.”

“What?” Your stomach sinks to your feet. Fuck, you’ve really messed it all up. “Martin, wait, you don’t have to go.” Your hand shoots out for his wrist, but the second your fingers brush his skin, he jerks his arm away like you’ve shocked him. “Martin I’m sorry, just forget I said anything. I’m half drunk and I don’t have a filter.”

Your world crumbles at your feet as Martin shakes his head. He’s like a spooked animal, set to flee thanks to your admission. “I have to go,” he repeats, before turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door. He leaves you at the bar, shellshocked and alone, trying to process what’s just happened.

Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?

[newmiriamsmysteries]

[Blurb - "New Moon"]

“Oh you poor soul, wandering lost in the forest under the new moon…” 

My blood ran cold as the voice slid over my skin.  It was as comforting as a flannel blanket on a cold winter’s night - but as menacing as a coiled-up Rattlesnake waiting to strike.

I turned carefully, paying close attention to any sudden movements that I might make.  Red hair was curled and hung over my shoulder in a low, side ponytail.  My leather jacket creaked as I pulled my hand instinctively to the gun tucked in the holster at my back. 

He stood behind me, I could see him over my shoulder.  Pale skin glowing like faded moonlight, and black hair fell as smooth as silk curtains down his back.  Cat-like eyes set against a sharply angled face sliced through the dimly-lit building as if it was high noon on a summer’s day.  

“This is hardly a forest,”  I said carefully once I had found my voice.  The abandoned warehouse around us was dilapidated and musty.  I could hear water dripping from somewhere in the darkness of the building and into a puddle nearby.  Rafters and beams sat in piles on the floor where they had fallen from misuse.  

With the dull thump of his black leather boots, he sauntered toward me.  I stiffened but I remained planted in my spot even though everything in me wanted to run.   Never run from something you know could easily kill you. Or - what was that line I saw in a movie once?  “Never run from anything immortal, it draws their attention.”

“I have heard stories about you, Detective Wallace.”  The man’s silky voice continued, ignoring my failed attempt at comic relief.  His angular jaw set into place while his dull, grey eyes looked down in boredom at his hands.  

“I’m told you are the one person in this Forsaken Backwater town that knows of my kind.”  He said, finally looking up at me. I tried to avoid his gaze. 

“Your kind?”  I asked in a voice just above a whisper.  Even though I felt the answer in my gut like a lead weight.  

“Vampires,” He said simply.  “In fact, I have also been told that you are acquainted with the Patriarch of the Family here.”

“I can hardly call it ‘acquainted’,” I said. “I tolerate him because I have to. I don’t meet him for breakfast on Saturday mornings or anything.”

The Man smirked at that. The sharp point of one of his eye teeth visible for only a second before hiding again behind the deep red of his lips.  He must have fed recently and I prayed it hadn’t been on a human being. 

“Who are you?”  I ventured, lowering my hands to my sides.  The familiar weight of the gun was a comfort though.  I knew if I even tried to attack him; he’d be on me as quick as lightning and ten times as deadly.

“I am called ‘Hallowed’.”  He said, he put his arms out at his sides and offered a slight bow at his waist.  

“Edgy.”  I replied sarcastically, with a shrug of one shoulder.  

“My true name is lost to me, I’m afraid.  Though Nicholas may remember it.”  Hallowed once again ignored my attempt at humor.  Spoil sport.

“You know Archer?”  I asked as I rose an eyebrow.

“’Archer’?  Is that what he goes by now?”  Hallowed mused.  “When I knew him, he went by ‘Ambrose’.  I guess he forgot his name as well.  Or he’s hiding from it.”

Hallowed circled me like a panther eying his prey.  He was every Gothic girl’s dream, I supposed.  If you were into that kind of thing.  Tall and thin with tight black jeans and boots that crawled up over his knees.  I could see the hint of a black mesh top beneath a long leather duster.  Silver necklaces hung around his neck, thick rings - some really old looking - adorned his thin fingers.  

“I met dear Nicholas in 1888,” Hallowed began.  “He had just lost a human lover and her child to a mortal’s death.  Why he hadn’t changed them, I shall never know.  He was sent to an Asylum for trying to dig up their bodies.  Victorian prejudice of the day declared such a thing.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  I asked quietly.

“Don’t interrupt!”  Hallowed roared, I flinched.  He calmed down and continued, smoothing his leather jacket over his chest.  “I was put away because I was caught with a stable boy.  Such things weren’t as understood as they are now.  But can you imagine my horror!  They called it a ‘Brain Fever’.  How archaic!”

Hallowed stopped his pacing and stepped in front of me, somehow I felt better with him before me rather than behind.  “Nicholas found me there.  He loved me and I loved him.  I honestly believed he did.  He bewitched me with talk of running away from the Asylum and starting anew somewhere else.  He turned me into a Vampire, you see.  He turned me and then he abandoned me!”  

His red lips pulled back into in a snarl as he grabbed my shoulders, I stood rigid as he held onto me.  “Now he won’t see me!  Me! He said it was because the process made me insane.  But no.  No, Dear Detective, you humans did that!  Electroshock Therapies, Lobotomies , even Leeches!” 

He pushed me away and my hand went back behind me again to the familiar weight of the Glock nestled in it’s holster.  I wet my lips.  Great...an insane Vampire.  

“So what do you want from me?”  I asked.

“You must go to him for me.  Tell him that I am here and I am waiting for him.  I have waited for him for centuries.  I escaped the Asylum, you see.  And I did it for him!”   Hallowed’s voice was quick and sharp with intensity.  “Everything I’ve ever done was for him.  Everyone I’ve ever killed was to be closer to him.  I wanted him to be proud, Dear Detective.  Proud to call me his own.”

“You’ve killed people?”  I asked.  

“Yes and now I am hunted.  But I don’t fear the Huntsman’s blade.”  Hallowed said darkly.  “I have killed five so far.  Five who would see me dead.  Let’s hope you don’t make it six.”  

I took a step back, Hallowed was on me so fast I didn’t see him!  His teeth hovered just above the vein in my neck.  “Do this for me, Detective, and I shall spare those you love.”  His breath was so cold against my skin that gooseflesh appeared.  Without so much as another word, Hallowed was gone.  I stood alone in the warehouse, my gun out, and pointed to shadows. 

[domesticadventures]

bottom shelf. deancas, 1.8k. (ao3)

insp: (x)

Cas is becoming human and Dean, for all intents and purposes, is ruining him.

He’s picking up all of Dean’s bad habits, all his bad taste. When they’re on the road and stop for gas, Cas grabs Corn Nuts and Snickers and Mtn Dew Code Red and Dean stares daggers at Sam, willing him not to say anything as he stands there with his sad overripe banana and bruised apple, looking like a disappointed parent. When they’re at home, Cas turns up his nose at salads, at vegetarian literally anything, at smoothies. He wants Dean to make him burgers and tater tots, the boxed mac and cheese that comes out an unnatural shade of yellow, he wants frito pie and grilled cheese sandwiches and Totino’s® Pizza Rolls® and Dean isn’t going to tell him no.

But he can’t help but think that surely if Cas knew there was better stuff out there, if someone had taught him better, he would choose something else.

So Dean takes it upon himself to be a better teacher, because it’s not just the food, it’s...everything. It’s the way Cas dresses in torn jeans and faded t-shirts and secondhand flannels, it’s the way he’ll spend an entire day binge-watching Catfish: The TV Show, it’s the way he’ll read whatever dime novel Dean puts in his hands but can never find time for Emerson or Thoreau or Kant.

It isn’t too late to fix the damage he’s done, Dean tells himself. They finish working a case outside of Chicago and Dean picks up some last-minute tickets to Anastasia. Cas raises an eyebrow at Dean’s announcement that they’ll be leaving Sam at the motel to spend a night at the theater, but he obediently puts on his fed suit, lets Dean drive him downtown, ignores Dean’s swearing as he tries to find a good place to park. Dean thinks the whole thing is going pretty well right up until the point where Cas falls asleep with his head on Dean’s shoulder before they even hit intermission.

“Do you want to leave?” Dean asks, as the lights come on and Cas jerks awake, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“No,” Cas says. “No. Sorry. Just tired from the hunt.” At Dean’s skeptical look, he adds, “I want to stay. I want to watch the rest of it with you.”

Cas manages to remain conscious through the second half, but when Dean asks him for his review as they make their way out with the rest of the theater patrons, Cas shrugs.

“It was all right,” Cas says. “But I like the cartoon version better. The one with the actual sorcerer in it.”

And it’s not that Dean disagrees, but his heart sinks a little, anyway.

So he tries something different the next time. They off a Jersey Devil and drive into New York the next day, wander through the Museum of Modern Art a bit aimlessly, neither of them really knowing what to do. Cas squints at the pieces made by some dude whose name Dean forgot the instant he learned it, carefully examines all the bizarre art Dean doesn’t understand, even after he dutifully reads the accompanying plaques—the table covered in egg shells, the painted bones, the pot filled a foot past the brim with mussels.

“Well,” Dean says as they leave, “what did you think?”

“I think,” Cas says slowly, “maybe I just don’t ‘get’ art. But I appreciated the experience, anyway.”

After that, Dean decides maybe he’s aiming a little too high. Maybe he just needs to start a little simpler, that’s all. What could go wrong with, say, a nice meal?

Dean picks out a well-reviewed place on Yelp and tries to temper his expectations as he and Cas sit up on a balcony in the ambient lighting, surrounded on all sides by people there for business meetings, for lunch dates.

He’s disappointed as soon as he takes his first bite. By all accounts, it should be good—how did a restaurant this expensive manage to mess up mashed potatoes with gruyere and bacon?—but it just...isn’t. Or maybe it is objectively good and Dean is simply incapable of enjoying it. He was raised on MSG and high fructose corn syrup and maybe he just can’t tell, maybe his taste buds are permanently broken.

Cas’ tiny bites, his half-finished food, tell Dean he feels much the same, and it makes him feel like shit. He can’t shake the feeling that Cas would have been able to enjoy normal people food if Dean hadn’t fucked it all up for him.

Cas deserves better than this, Dean thinks, as he turns on the car, grips the wheel to steady himself. Cas deserves better food, better dates. He deserves someone who can show him all life has to offer, someone who isn’t too scared to get on a goddamn plane, who would take him to see the seven wonders of the world instead of pulling off the highway to see stupid shit like the country’s largest rubber band ball. He deserves to be tired not from running from one hunt to another but from doing things that are actually fucking fun, to lay down at night next to someone who can sleep for more than a few restless hours at a clip. Cas deserves someone who didn’t learn everything he knows about making other men feel good in truck stop bathrooms or against the sides of 18 wheelers, someone who doesn’t occasionally still freak out in the middle of sex and need to be gently coaxed out of the past and back into the present. He deserves someone who knows how to take care of him, who doesn’t ask for so much while giving so little back.

“Dean,” Cas says, startling him out of his thoughts. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Dean says. “Everything is fine.” The fact that he’s still sitting with the car in park and his knuckles white against the wheel says otherwise, but Cas is nothing if not impossibly patient with him. He clenches his jaw, swallows. “I just wanted you to have a good time.”

“I did have a good time,” Cas says, “with you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Dean says. “You’re being polite about it, but you didn’t like dinner, and you didn’t like the museum or the theater or—or—any of that stuff.”

He can see Cas frowning out of the corner of his eye, but his voice is gentle as he asks, “Dean, what has all this been about?”

“I wanted you to be able to experience stuff that’s actually good.”

“I’ve experienced plenty of good things.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Dean says, heat rising up his neck, creeping into his face. “You find shit like the theater and museums and actual good fucking food just as boring and bland as I do.”

“Okay?” Cas says. He seems legitimately confused, like it isn’t obvious how badly Dean has screwed everything up. “There’s nothing wrong with those things. They’re just not for us, and that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Dean says, louder than he means to. “It’s not okay. I’m—I’m ruining you.”

Cas’ frown deepens. “I’m not a baby,” he says. “You didn't shape me from birth. Give me some credit for my own personality.”

The heat spreads across Dean’s cheeks, burns behind his eyes. “I don’t—I don’t think that. But it’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“You just. You don’t get it, okay?” Dean twists his hands against the leather, tries to keep his voice steady. “You’re not supposed to be the kind of person who likes the—the—the absolute worst garbage humanity has to offer. If you’d been human from birth, you’d know that. You’d know better. I’m the dollar menu equivalent of a person and you just haven’t realized it yet.”

There’s a long moment of silence during which Dean has plenty of time to imagine Cas telling him he’s insane, getting out of the Impala, and slamming the door behind himself.

Instead, Cas slides closer to him, their knees knocking together, and turns off the car. He reaches up and moves Dean’s hands from the wheel, holds them in one of his own. Uses his other hand to cup Dean’s face, stroke a thumb across his cheek until Dean hesitantly turns towards him, meets his gaze.

“Dean,” Cas says quietly. “You’re right. I haven’t always been human. I wasn’t raised in human society. But I like to think that gives me a certain different perspective.” He considers Dean carefully, looking from one of his eyes to the other. “I didn’t learn what I should or shouldn’t like from other people telling me. I’m learning it by doing. By trying and figuring it out. I mean this in the nicest way possible,” he says, the corner of his mouth ticking up in the barest hint of a smile, “but I don’t have all of your same hangups. To me, there’s just what I like and what I don’t. And what I like is fast food, and dumb movies that will never win a Tony—”

“I think those are the music ones—”

“Whatever,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. “You see my point.” He shifts to sit with one of his legs folded up on the seat, faces Dean more fully. “Dean. I know you grew up in a world that devalued you and the things you love. I would undo that if I could, but I can’t. All I can hope to do is to somehow convince you that you have value. I know what the other options are, and I want you to know that I’m not settling on you. I’m choosing you intentionally.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as Cas leans forward, as he presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth—so easily, so gently that it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat.

“I love you,” Cas murmurs, “just as you are.”

Dean reaches his hand up, lays it over Cas’ own where it still rests against his cheek. “How’d you get so good at this, huh?” he asks, a little hoarsely. He runs his thumb against Cas’ knuckles and hopes he gets what he means—this tenderness, this comfort, this honest emotion. All of it.

Cas huffs a laugh. “This part I did learn from you.”

“Oh,” Dean manages, trying his best to internalize it as Cas kisses him again, more deeply this time, as he runs gentle fingers through the hair at the back of Dean’s neck. By the time Cas pulls away, Dean feels almost normal. Whatever ‘normal’ is for him, anyway. “Okay,” he says. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yes.”

“Good,” Cas says, sliding back into his own seat. He nods once, decisively. “So can we pick up Taco Bell on the way home? That meal was extremely unsatisfying and I’m still hungry.”

Dean surprises himself by laughing. He thinks, wildly, that he’s never loved Cas more than he does at this moment.

“Yeah, Cas,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. “Whatever you want.”

[sweetestlamb]

Flashlight

Author's note: Wasn't episode 8 just lovely? I just couldn't get this out of my head, they're becoming so dependent on each other. Be still my beating heart. They're reminding me of my MoonMun couple so much and I think that explains my obsession and the amount of fics I've written thus far lol.

Summary: Just for tonight he'll be selfish.

"Are you okay now? Is there someone there?" He moves towards the dark alley that she came bolting from looking as frightened as he's ever seen her. He feels his muscles coil ready to protect her by any means possible. But before he can move she's tightening her hold on him, clinging to him now he can feel her warmth all around him like a blanket.

"No! Don't leave me." Hearing that scared plea causes a blurry memory to resurface in his mind, he can almost feel the words swimming in his mind but the memory is foggy and it evaporates as quickly as it formed.

Strange.

"Okay, okay. I'm not going anywhere. Let's go inside." He starts to maneuver her toward her house at first she moves with him but then she stills, letting out a small sound of recollection.

"My phone." She whispers into his chest, they are pressed so closely he can feel her heartbeat still pounding through her chest into his. He strokes her back in a lazy soothing manner, shocked when she melts into his embrace further. Nothing is making sense at this moment but he doesn't care enough to stop, this.

"What about your phone?" He redirects the conversation and she continues, "I dropped it in there when I ran away."

"Okay. I'll go get it, wait here." He starts to gently untangle her hands from his flannel but she lets out a whine, gripping his shirt even stronger and moving with him.

"I'll---let's go together."

She's trembling now, positively shaking in her spot and he wants to argue with her to just go inside and wait for him but her earlier plea echoes in his ears. He can't leave her alone not right now, so he steps forward feeling her move with him, one step after another until he sees the rectangular object on the ground.

"I'm going to bend down to get it." He can feel her shifting beside him looking around wildly but thankfully no ominous figure appears, they are alone.

After a moment she nods, letting go enough for him to bend and retrieve the device and he checks the screen noting happily that it's not damaged but when he touches the screen it doesn't turn on so he tries again.

"It's dead. I forgot to charge it." She admits, taking the phone from his grasp.

He turns to her with a sharp stare, "You stayed out late after what happened and didn't charge your phone? Are you that fearless?" He chides, frustrated with her lack of awareness and disregard for her safety. If anything ever happened to her he would.... He would.......

"It wasn't on purpose. I didn't realize. I know it was irresponsible."

It's not a response he's expecting, the Hye Jin he knows would argue back, hardly taking shit from him ergo her meek uncharacteristic reply makes him feel worst, he shouldn't be blaming her especially after seeing first-hand how scared she is.

"Let's go inside now, it's cold and you're shaking." They both know the temperature has very little to do with her tremors but she doesn't disagree and carelessly he enters the code when they reach the door, ignoring the jolt in his chest that erupts as he enters his own birthday and the door clicks open. He thought she would have changed it by now.

He's grateful she hasn't.

They both take off their shoes, standing side by side now her arm around his waist and his around her shoulder. It's a small space and they can barely move but they work around it, reluctant to release each other.

"Thank you." Her voice is barely above a whisper, he thinks that he almost imagined it. He had an excuse prepared this time, he was merely patrolling and happened to pass her house. That was the lie he intended to go with, but something in her voice stops him from saying those deceitful words. He's tired of hiding and making up excuses for being around her.

"You're welcome. Here sit down, I'll make you some tea." Thoughtlessly he moves towards the kitchen, taking two steps until he can't move anymore. She's holding onto him tightly, he turns around looking at her small closed fists and then her trembling pretty face.

With a soft sigh, he takes her hand rubbing a thumb across the smooth skin.

"Just come with me." Immediately she steps forward pressing into his back, he tries to calm his heart taking the teapot and filling it with water, then he opens the cabinet retrieving a mug and setting it aside.

"I like honey. And a squeeze of lemon." He smiles at her soft demands.

Now that sounds more like his dentist. The bottle of honey is in her top cabinet and he grabs a fresh lemon from the fridge cutting it in half.

They stand silently as the water boils and he finally feels his anger boiling away as well. Angry that he was almost too late and that his town isn't safe anymore, angry that someone was able to shake this immoveable woman.

The shrill ringing of the teapot breaks him from his impasse, on autopilot he pours the water on the tea bag, then squeezes the honey in the steaming water, "I like a lot of honey." She's attached to his back her voice vibrating straight through him, he freezes when she wraps her arms around his waist. Her closeness is messing with his mind, but he tries to finish his job and get them on the couch maybe with some distance between them.

For his sanity.

"Let's go sit down." He grabs both mugs walking over to her couch, placing her cup on the far right and taking a seat on the far left putting a sea of distance between them. But immediately she sits down right next to him, leaving no space between them she might as well be in his lap. He squirms in place, standing up to get some reprieve but she grabs his hand staring up at him.

"Where are you going?" Fear bleeds into her voice and he lets go of his hesitations, tonight is not about him.

Leaning over he grabs her cup, tugging it closer.

"Nowhere, I'm not going anywhere. Drink your tea."

She blinks slowly at him before nodding and bringing the warm beverage to her lips. Her hum of satisfaction warms him all the way down to his toes.

"It's good. You really are good at everything." He preens at the compliment, thinking of all the times this week he wasn't needed or was cast aside for Director Ji. He's been swallowing his jealousy all week. So her words fill a hollow space in his chest.

He watches her drink the entire cup, ignoring his own growing cold on the table.

"I need to charge my phone." She suddenly says and he stares before nodding, taking the opportunity to drink his lukewarm tea. But then he notices that she's not moving despite having the phone and charging in her hand.

"What's wrong?" He raises an eyebrow in confusion.

She looks embarrassed now, unable to meet his eyes and he's flabbergasted at her reaction.

"Come with me?" He stares at her, feeling the same pride bloom as when she sat next to him instead of her sunbae, she's leaning on him.

He spots an outlet across the room, "Okay let's go there." She looks relieved at his lack of teasing, together they walk over to the outlet and she bends to plug in the charger and puts the phone on the ground.

In seconds the phone comes to life and he feels a sharp pain in his chest as a barrage of messages light up her phone, the majority from one person. When she clicks to open the message he instinctively looks away, not wanting to witness their conversation.

"He messaged so much." Her voice is filled with awe and childishly he moves away. He'd almost forgotten that she didn't actually need him. He was just conveniently there.

"I should go now. You're safe. Make sure to come home earlier from now on, maybe ask him to walk you home." It hurts to utter those words but it's easier than being replaced later, it's okay if he's the one that pushes her away first. "I'll see myself out."

He stands ready to leave, pointedly not looking back before he changes his mind and stays forever.

She was just scared, tonight didn't mean anything.

He grabs his fallen bagpack thrusting it on his shoulder, hopping into his boots all ready to head out. But it's unusually quiet, the silence is so deafening that he can't stop himself from looking back over at her. It's a mistake, a huge one at that. The phone has fallen from her hands, abandoned to the side and she's looking at him with the most desolate stare he's ever seen, moisture pooling in her huge round eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you cry--"

"You said you wouldn't leave me. Why are you changing your mind? What if someone is still there? What am I supposed to do without yo--u?" Her voice cracks on the last word and his heart follows, she needs him. Nobody else has this week but here she is breaking down because he tried to leave, she needs him.

His decision is made for him in that moment.

As soon as he's close enough to touch she's clinging to him once again, he only absently realizes that she's trying to lead them to her bedroom but even he's not saintly enough for that so he stops her.

"Let's go to the couch. You'll feel more comfortable."

She doesn't question him seemingly happy to follow his lead.

The couch is comfy but definitely not intended for two grown adults, leaning over the arm rest he tries to get situated and once he stops moving she's snuggling into his side curling around him like a cat.

"Whenever I was scared, my mom used to stroke my hair."

He stares at the wall in front of them, wondering if she's aware of just how many lines they're crossing tonight- no catapulting over. But he's tired of second guessing himself so he stops thinking and just listens, bringing the hand that is curled on her shoulder up to her head before dragging his palm down her soft hair, gulping when she moans at the ministrations.

Her breathing starts to deepen and he feels her body losing its tension, she's falling asleep and once she succumbs he can finally make his escape, that's his plan. But he doesn't expect her to start stroking him too, her hand delicate on his chest.

"You've worked hard. Stopping a scammer and saving me all while recovering from a cold."

It's nothing. It's what he's supposed to do.

But it feels so good to hear those words, words that he hardly heard growing up.

"Go to sleep." He says instead of thank you, instead of kissing her like he's wanted to since he saw her outside and she ran straight into his heart.

It's a miracle but she listens to him, drifting to sleep her head heavy on his chest and he knows that he should wait a few minutes and try to extract himself but he can't, not tonight. Just for tonight he'll be selfish.

"You're making me want all sorts of things." He whispers to her sleeping face, terrified of her and all that she makes him feel. Feeling emboldened by their almost kiss initiated by her, he pushes her hair behind her ear taking a second to really looking at her face. She really is that beautiful. It doesn't seem fair. Leaning down he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, her skin is sleep warm and perfectly smooth. He presses a second one shamelessly. Her lips are right there and heavens knows that he's tempted but he can't take advantage, can't bring himself to do anything else. That's enough.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep but he wakes up to Mi-seon throwing a blanket over them, he keeps his eyes tightly shut mentally berating himself for that leaving when he had a chance.

"Just friends my ass. Just admit that you like him, look at the way you're clinging to him."

Somehow they traversed further down the couch in their sleep, both laying horizontal now with her body on top on his and her head tucked under his chin.

"I've never seen her sleep so peacefully though. She looks so young."

He tries not to think too deeply into what that might mean, listening to the retreating footsteps of her roommate and feeling himself losing the battle with sleep. She'll probably be embarrassed to find them this way tomorrow but that's a hurdle for another day.

Just for tonight I'll hold her. Until I'm not allowed to hold her anymore.

[lipstickbisous]

ok what about bartender!nomadsteve 👀👀 like reader is a regular at the bar and they always flirt and finally steve makes a move perhaps a little smutty

your mind...i love the thought of bartender!steve so much, thank you for the request my love!!

sazerac - s.r.

SUMMARY: he knows you can handle your alcohol—can you handle him?

WARNINGS: drunkeness, smut, dry-humping, dirty talk, daddy!kink, hint of degradation, 18+ MINORS DNI

the following work is my own writing. do not plagairise or copy and paste my works onto another platform. message me about credit.

MASTERLIST

the first time you came into the bar, it was just for a classic girls night and the dress you were wearing was practically nothing

Steve didn’t mean it but as soon as he saw you come up to the bar to order a sazerac

“That's a strong drink” he noted with a slight smirk and you only smirked back

“I think I can handle it” and when you looked down to watch him make your drink, you nearly choked on air

His hands were massive, not to mention just one of his fingers would be enough to--shut up, (y/n)

When he finished, Steve watched you walk back to your friends with the drink in your hand

I mean, he’s completely ignoring the rest of his customers there because all he had his eyes on was you

And when you downed the sazerac in three seconds, he was slightly impressed and terrified

He'd tried to get your attention for the rest of the night but you were blasted drunk along with your friends

At the end of the night--oh, you know, around 1 am--he watched the rest of your friends hail a cab until you were the only one left

And there was no way in hell he was letting you drive alone with a cab driver that could possibly be a murderer

“Hey, honey, do you need some help?” he asked with his jacket thrown over his shoulder

You looked up at him with heavy eyelids and slurred, “Hey, i know you.”

Steve slightly blushed and nodded. “You need some help?”

Yeah, like you’d get help from a stranger

Next thing you know, he’s helping you stumble into your apartment

and Steve doesn’t mean to go all the way inside, but you drag him into your bedroom and clip off your heels

He's not a stalker or anything, but he pays attention to the small details of your room

“Come gimme a kiss” you slur again and it’s absolutely adorable--not to mention it makes his cock hard--but there’s no way Steve can take advantage of you like this

“Maybe some other time, sweetheart,” he smiles

“What's your name?” you ask and pull his ear to your lips “I wanna know what to call you”

He helps you unzip your dress and closes his eyes when he notices that you’re not wearing a bra or underwear.

You're ready to beg him to stay, gripping his flannel and trying to pull him to you, but Steve tucks you in and leaves when your eyes close shut.

When he returns to his home, he notices he never got your name

The next time he sees you is in about a week

He'd been waiting to see your face again, but this time you look a lot different

You're wearing casual clothing and you don’t have smeared mascara and lipstick or smudged eyeshadow

“Well, well,” he chuckles, watching your cheeks blush with embarrassment as you hurry to the counter “if it isn’t miss ‘come gimme a kiss’.” That night had played out in Steve's mind every night for the next week

You laughed and pulled your hair out from the low bun you’d quickly put it up into

“I just came by because I think I forgot my car keys here?”

So that’s whose keys they were

Steve had found them underneath a table when he was cleaning the morning after he’d met you and kept them in a bowl behind him at the bar.

“Have ‘em right here.” He smiled, dangling them in his hand and when you went to grab them, he swung them into his palm. “If..you don’t mind a cup of coffee sometime?” 

Suddenly, his confident facade faded and he seemed genuinely shy to ask you out

You snatched the keys from him and muttered a, “You know where to find me.”

Like he said, he’s not a stalker, but he may or may have not memorized your address

You had to admit, your heart broke a little bit when he didn’t show up for the next two days but who were you kidding

You didn’t even give him a number to call you at

Were you expecting him to come to you?

As soon as you started to give up and accept that maybe it was just good for one of flirty comments (and your drunken state) there was a knock

“Hey, doll,” he smiled, holding up a small bouquet of spring flowers

It was cheesy and even though you hate cheesy, you appreciated the thought

But the flowers could wait

You grab him by the cheeks and pull his lips to yours

It definitely takes him by surprise but he’s quick to kiss back and throws the flowers to somewhere on the floor

You giggle as he struggles to walk into your apartment with his eyes closed shut as the kiss grows a bit more...intimate

But after one night spent in there, he seems to have the place memorized

Steve's pulling up at your shirt and he notices that again you’re not wearing a bra

“So perfect, so gorgeous,” he’s brushing your hair behind your neck, licking and biting at the skin

Suddenly, he lifts you up on the counter as if you’re a feather and immediately begins to push his hips against yours

His right hand kneads your breast and you can feel his hard-on through his jeans, “Do you see what you do to me, sweet girl?” 

Your hands are scrambling around to unzip them and push them down to his feet where he kicks them off

He breaks the contact with your neck and pulls his shirt off himself and that’s when you begin to drool

“Aww, baby, you like what you see?” “I'm all yours.”

When you grind back against him, his breath hitches, “Look at you.”

Steve coos and it makes you feel deliciously small

“So hungry for my cock. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and you realize you still don’t know his name “Yes, daddy”

He stops moving and wraps a tight hand around your neck. “I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight, sweetheart. You're gonna love how I make you feel, I just know it. I'm gonna fill you up and you’re gonna my cum inside you like a good girl, right?”

You nod and bite your bottom lip with a muffled, “Yes.”

Steve squeezes his hand, “Yes, what?” He pushes his ear to your lips to hear you say it

“Yes, daddy” you struggle to speak

“Atta girl,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. “My good girl.”

[peralta-guaranteed]

Jake and Amy single parents AU.

Pretty please! :))

oh! Oh, I strangely love this one!

- Amy is a police-widow with little Mac (no, Teddy was not the father, it was a non-canon detective), while Jake is at the better end of a really messy divorce from Sofia, who very quickly handed over all alimony of Maya to him to focus on her career.

-Amy tries her best to juggle the newly single parent life with her full-time position running a bookshop, while Jake is not too happy about having to bring Maya in to the precinct all the time, but it can’t be helped (and Scully makes a surprisingly good babysitter). The squad’s had his back through the entire break-up, and they all love his little girl to bits, so at least she won’t be missing the family aspect in her life - and will always have an amazing female role model in her Auntie Rosa, who’s already planning to teach her Spanish just so she can trashtalk her dad with her without Jake knowing

- Mac + Maya meet at daycare and absolutely hit it off, despite the age difference of two years. Mac has apparently seen another curly headed toddler and immediately decided to brother the sh*t out of her. He takes her along to all his games and helps her pick colours for her pictures and shares his apple slices with her in exchange for a bit of sandwich (which is much nicer anyway).

- the daycare workers absolutely adore the little duo, and can’t help remarking how much they look like siblings anyway. So of course Jake has to meet the mom of the adorable little boy who always bring his daughter over to him for pickup by holding her hand.

- he’s a bit afraid of having to deal with the usual “Aw they’re little boyfriend and girlfriend” comments he’s expecting, but obviously Amy is having none of that. Instead, she tells him how glad she is that Mac has found a little friend to protect. “He’s always trying to protect everyone so much, ever since his dad... well...”

- (Jake knew, distantly, that she was the widow of one of his colleagues from another precinct, but apart from the usual condolences they’d all sent it had never really registered in his mind that there was a wife and a child left behind.)

- “Oh well Maya is so happy too. She’s a bit shy and scared at the moment, so having a big friend help her get out of her shell is great. Your little boy is a sweetheart, too.”

- Amy smiles at him, and he’s pretty sure his heart should not be doing what it’s doing, so he beats it down and tries his best to ignore it. Which is hard, because she smiles at him a lot in the coming months when they meet up for playdates, Mac over excited to show Maya all his favourite spots at the park or the coolest fish at the aquarium.

- Jake moans during one of their meet-ups about a case that has been dragging on forever and is going to need an allnighter to finally be solved, and his partner Boyle is really trying his best alone, but he’s the primary on it and- it feels great to talk about it with someone who understands, outside of his squad, even if Amy sometimes nods with the saddest look on her face when he mentions parts of his job. But she offers him last minute babysitting if he ever needs it, considering her job finishes promptly at 5pm each day, and he can’t help but take her offer when another case hits that needs him on a stake out at 10pm.

- so Maya gets a lovely sleepover with Mac, and Amy gets the biggest box of her favourite pralines as a thank you, because Jake has never, not once, given Maya to a babysitter to go to his job without feeling remorse and guilt, not even his own mom, but he had to deal with none of that when Maya gladly ran up the stairs to Amy’s place where Mac was already shouting her name.

- needless to say that Amy and Jake become the great friends they always are over time. He brings coffee and muffins to their park playdates, and she brings over frozen meals from Mac’s abuela for kid movie marathons at Jake’s place. They know each other’s schedules to help out with the kids, Jake has convinced everyone in his friend group and workplace to only buy books at her store from now on, and Amy is already planning the christmas gift she needs to pack for Maya and her daddy.

- it would be a nice, supportive friendship of equals, and a good help in their single parent life, if it wasn’t for the fact that Jake realised about three playdates in that he was falling for Amy faster than a shooting star. It took her a little longer, but realisation hit when she was packing Mac’s lunchbox, her own lunchbox, and Maya’s lunchbox too after a sleepover, and subconsciously already wanted to bag up a fourth set of sandwiches with some gummy bears and a soda thrown in for good measure.

- Rosa tells him to ‘grow a pair and ask her out, she sounds perfect for both you and Maya’ when Jake confides in her. And that is rare praise coming from Diaz, because no one is good enough for Maya in her eyes, sometimes not even Jake himself. But he can’t take advantage of Amy’s friendship like that, not when it risks losing both her and Mac for Maya... and there is always the underlying fear that Maya will bond with a new woman in her life and be left behind yet again if they don’t work out, just like with her mom, whose biggest contribution to her life since the divorce has been the alimony payments each month.

- Kylie, meanwhile, warns Amy not to risk too much when she confides in her. She sadly remembers the many days she had to spend at her friend-coworker’s side after the funeral, cleaning out half of a closet and half of a shared home, basically. She’d been hoping that Amy would find love again, maybe in a few years time, but when she heard the news about her ‘great new friend’ being a detective himself, her heart dropped because she knew what that might be heading towards, and Amy very much shares her fears. She’d vowed to an absolute ‘no cops’ rule for her planned restart of dating in two years, perfectly scheduled with Mac’s start of school.

- as it is, both of them dance around their emotions in a perfectly synchronised waltz while still getting closer and closer as friends and parents, to the point that the daycare workers don’t even bat an eye anymore when Amy brings both Mac and Maya in, or when Jake picks both of them up into his arms with an excited ‘ready for ice cream and games?!’ before they meet up with Amy for a Coney Island afternoon.

- until one day, when the daycare offers a ‘star gazing sleep over’ event after the story of the stars and night sky was the theme of the week, and it falls right on the day Amy and Jake were planning to take the kids to a movie. “We could still go.” Jake mumbles while Maya runs into the daycare center, not shy at all anymore, and Mac follows her. “You want to go see Paddington’s Big Adventure... without the kids?” Amy jokes, but he looks so serious. “No, of course not, but I mean - we - uh - we both got the evening off now, don’t we? I told my captain I won’t be in no matter what. Seems like a waste of time just going home. We could see that period drama you talked about, that will definitely get an Oscar?”

- Amy hesitates only for a second, but they do go. They watch the drama that Jake has to admit is pretty damn good for a movie where nothing explodes or is set on fire, and that praise does not only come from the fact that Amy grabbed his hand with a gasp during a particularly emotional scene, and then kind of forgot to let go afterwards.

- but then the movie ends and Jake still doesn’t want to go home. Neither does Amy, apparently, because she offers up an ‘amazing 24h diner’ around the corner for some late night snacks, during which they laugh and flick chocolate chips at each other and end up blushing like mad when the waitress comments on what a ‘cute couple’ they are.

- he walks her to her front door, and they both kinda don’t know what to do as they say goodbye, because this kind of date night should usually end on a kiss, but it wasn’t really a date, was it, they would’ve taken the kids along if it hadn’t been for the day care event, and-

- “Ames, I’m - this is terrifying, but I think I’ll hate myself even more for not ever saying anything - and, and, I kind of, maybe, I think you might also-” She takes his hand again, a lot softer than she did in the cinema. “I think this is the kind of talk that needs a coffee and a good couch.”

- That’s how they end up at her place that Jake already knows so well from bringing Maya over, from the perfectly styled bookcases down to the absolute mess of a playroom that is Mac’s kingdom. They both grip their coffee cups tightly as they talk it all out, about what they’re afraid of, what they would risk if they gave ‘them’ a try.

- “I wouldn’t ever want to put Mac through losing another cop-dad even if it wasn’t from work, and I won’t let Maya lose another mom.” “Me neither. And I promised Mac I’d never forget his papa, but... I can clearly see him love his new daddy, too. He already looks up to you so much. He wants a flannel shirt for christmas.” “Maya introduced you as Mama Amy to one of my aunties. Which was quite a thing to explain.” Amy laughs, and then smiles at him, and his heart does that thing again, like it has been doing for months now, but this time he doesn’t beat it down. This time he lets it lead him to lean in for the most careful kiss, a kiss that Amy gladly returns, just as carefully.

- they agree to take things slow, be mindful, not drop it on the kids immediately or rush into things from the pressure of friends or family.

- and then three months later Amy finds the perfect apartment for the four of them, and Jake aks Gina and Rosa for ring preferences and proposal tips, and ‘slow and mindful’ has flown out the window the second Maya brought home a picture she did with Mac at daycare showing their little ‘family’ before Amy or Jake had even talked to them about their possible dating.

- Maya grows up with her Mama teaching her Spanish along with Auntie Rosa, and an abuela and abuelo who love to spoil her with Cuban sweets just as much as her big brother. Mac gets to ride along in his Daddy’s police car sometimes, and hears stories about his brave Papa from his colleagues. His auntie Gina is so proud of him for taking care of his little sister the way she took care of her little brother too. And Jake gets to see Amy smile all the time now, and knows it’s him and their kids that is making her smile so much.

[chim-chimchii]

Encaptured (Jungkook)

Genre: Fluff 

Note: A little fuckboy Jungkook for you all! I’m currently working on a social media au and I might just post the profiles so I can give you guys a sneak peek and to also motivate myself to work on it more! Let me know what you guys think! I also didn’t know how to end this so I apologize if it’s a crappy ending. 

. . . . . . . 

On Thursdays, the literary class met in the college library, and that was when Jungkook always had you look over his essays. Not only did he use that time to get his papers edited, but he also took this time to prod you about your weekend plans.

"So, are you going to accept my offer to take you to the movies this weekend?" Jungkook asked, resting his chin on his palm.

You glanced up from his essay. "Hm, not this week. I think I'm all booked." With a smirk directed towards him, you continued marking his paper.

"You said that last week." He mumbled with a playful pout.

"And last week, when I rejected you, you ended up taking that girl from your math class." You stated with a challenging stare.

Tongue in cheek, Jungkook chuckled, "Well, I couldn't let those tickets go to waste! I thought for sure you would have agreed." He continued trying to justify his playboy ways.

You scoffed and slid his paper over to him; red pen marks were scattered all over it. You thought that the edits you made to his essay would distract him from the current topic, but he pushed the assignment to the side.

"Y/n, when will you let me take you on a date?" Jungkook leaned in ever so slightly and smiled sweetly.

Your heart rate increased. His whole appearance changed with that one smile, and it was hard for you to hide the fact that it made you feel some way. Maybe it was time to give him a chance, and if it didn't work out, then he would finally stop bugging you.

"Okay." You finally answered after thinking it through. That one word took Jungkook by surprise.

"Okay? Are you saying, yes?"

Without making eye contact, you nodded and closed your notebook with a gentle smile.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Jungkook bit his lip to hide his smile and watched you leave the library.

. . . . 

The sun was setting, and seven o clock was right around the corner. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror that hung by the door and nodded in approval of your outfit. You tried to remember the last time you got all dressed up for a date, and as you tried to place a moment, there was a knock at the door. 

As you reached for the door, you hesitated. What if this was a one-time thing? What if he never spoke to you after tonight? Just because you turned his offers for a date down multiple times, it wasn't as if you didn't like Jungkook. You appreciated his presence in your boring literary class; you appreciated his jokes and stories. What if all he wanted was to add you to the list of girls he won over with his charms? 

Your thoughts were interrupted again by a knock, but this time it was a lot softer. You took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob. Whatever his intentions were, you decided to accept this date, so you had to deal with the consequences. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway with his hands buried in his pockets. His head was hung low as if he was half expecting you not to answer, but when you opened the door wider, he looked up. 

You forgot to breathe upon seeing him. Instead of the cliche leather jacket he always wore, he wore a grey flannel over a white shirt. It wasn't THAT different from what he always wore but seeing him wear light-colored clothing suits him well. His demeanor was different, as well. A timid smile replaced the cocky smirk he always had on his face. 

"Are you ready?" His voice came out lighter than usual; it took you a moment to remember this was Jungkook and not someone else. 

"Yeah, let me just grab my bad." You left him by the door as you dashed back to your room to grab your purse. 

. . . . 

It was the little things that Jungkook did that made you weak in the knees. As the two of you walked to the theater, Jungkook rested his hand on the small of your back. He maneuvered you to the other side of him; it wasn't until his warmth left that you realized he was making sure you were closest to the buildings and away from the busy street.

Your eyes fixated on him, and it felt like the world was in slow motion, and you saw Junkook in a new light. You wanted nothing more, but to have this moment last forever. Forever didn't come because he glanced at you with that beautiful smile of his.

"Would you be upset if I told you I don't want to go to the movies anymore?"

The world resumed at its original speed, and your excitement disappeared.

"Oh? Did you want to take a rain check or something?" You tried not to sound too disappointed.

"No, no. I just don't think I can handle sitting next to you for two and a half hours and not talk to you."

You sighed in relief, which made Jungkook chuckle.

"I don't know what you've been told or what you heard about me, but I'm not cruel.

You raised your eyebrow at him and smirked. "I don't know, I've heard some pretty interesting things about you, Jungkook."

You gave him one last teasing look before walking ahead of him. Jungkook tsked before jogging to catch up to you.

"So, are you going to tell me what you heard so I can prove those accusations wrong?"

Together you waded through the crowded street, careful not to lost one another. If he took your hand, would you pull away or let him have that small victory?

"You haven't said what we're going to do now that we're not going to the movies."

His hand grazed yours. "You're changing the topic."

Seconds later, his hand rested on your shoulder to guide you towards the entrance of an arcade. It was full of other couples, groups of friends, and people wanting to have fun. The atmosphere brought a smile to your face. You didn't even realize Jungkook had left until he returned with a bag full of tokens.

"I'll let you choose the first game."

Dramatically, you rested your hand on your heart. "What a gentleman."

Jungkook threw his head back in defeat. "Whoever told you that I wasn't a gentleman needs to stop feeding you lies."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you don't really have the best reputation." You explained as you made your way over to the basketball game.

You glanced back at him to make sure he was following and found him chewing on his lip. Your statement bothered him. The two of you exchanged no other words until he was standing next to you.

"Is that why you always rejected me?" His eyes locked with yours, and you didn't dare look away.

Rather than lying, you nodded. "Yeah."

Jungkook was the one to break eye contact; it was clear he was upset. He fished for a token and inserted it into the machine to start the game.

As you watched him, you inhaled deeply and thought about everything. You didn't want to be the reason the date ended in ruins. You were honest about why you declined his offers, but now that you were here with him, you kept thinking how different things could have been if you had just agreed to date him the first time he asked.

Without thinking further, when Jungkook reached for another ball, you took it from him and aimed for the moving hoop.

"You can't blame me for being scared."

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something but stopped as he watched you throw the ball straight into the hoop. Another ball rolled towards you, but Jungkook grabbed it before you could.

"I wasn't blaming you. I was blaming myself." He missed the hoop and ticked his head to the side, slightly annoyed that he didn't score, but as the game ended, he had one of the highest scores.

Together you moved in the direction of another game.

"Why are you blaming yourself?"

He didn't say anything, and you were afraid he didn't hear you due to the increasing volume of everyone around you.

"Because I got careless with relationships and dating, and now that I want something serious, my reputation is ruining my chances.

The corners of your mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "It's your turn to pick a game."

You weren't ignoring what he had said; you just wanted to think about it for a moment longer.

The two of you wandered around the arcade and tried not to lose each other with the growing amount of people entering the building. Jungkook stopped in front of a photo booth and let out a small laugh.

"It isn't a game, but it seems like this is the only thing unoccupied." 

"I think it'll be fun!" You linked his arm with yours and entered the small booth. 

Jungkook sat silently next to you as you messed around with the photo settings. As you sat back, your shoulder brushed against his, and it made it obvious how close the two of you were. You couldn't help but think back to his previous comment about wanting to be in a serious relationship.  Did he mean that he wanted to try and be in a serious relationship with you? You'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for him. The truth was, you had liked him all along, but you let the rumors about him cloud your judgment of his character. 

The beeping of the timer caused you to snap out of your thoughts. 

"Are you ready?" You glanced over at Jungkook, and to your surprise, he was already staring at you. The flash went off, signaling that the first picture was taken. Then the timer reset. 

"Your chances aren't completely ruined, by the way." 

The two of you looked away and to the camera, where you opted for a funny face. The camera went off. 

"What do you mean?" Jungkook turned to you again. 

"If you were this version of yourself all the time, you wouldn't have any trouble getting into a serious relationship, and any girl would be happy to be with you."  

You stuck your tongue out at him as the camera snapped another picture. 

"I don't want just any girl though--" He faced forward and held up a peace sign. "--I want you." 

Your expression changed in an instant, and it was captured as the shutter sounded. "Jungkook." 

He hesitated but looked your way as the last seconds of the timer counted down. You took his face into your hands and pressed your lips to his. The moment captured forever as the final flash of the camera washed over the two of you. 

[maerinhearts]

Give it Time

Part II

You can find part one here.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and a party.

Your alarm sounds off, indicating it was time to get ready for day two of college. Risa groans from across the room as you silence your phone. You both get ready together, brushing your teeth in the communal bathroom and styling your hair in front of the mirror in your room. The weather was fairly nice today, so you throw on some jeans with a short sleeve shirt, tying a flannel around your waist just in case you got cold later.

You found yourself feeling excited for classes today, despite having the worst one first thing this morning. You were the first in your family to go to college, so your mom may have cried a little bit dropping you off for move in day. She heavily denied it when you asked her, but you clearly saw her turn away from you and wipe her face. It was cute, seeing your mom sad to have you out of the house. You had big things planned for your future and you wouldn’t let that go to waste.

You check your watch to see if you had any time to grab a quick breakfast before class. “Shit!” you exclaim. You frantically start gathering your stuff together, stuffing things into your backpack and throwing it on your back. You had 15 minutes to get to class.

“We gotta go, Ris!” you shout at her.

Next thing you know, she is running into your shared room and shoving her arms through the loops of her own backpack. “Let’s go!” she gasps out, out of breath from her short run.

You set off towards class together, walking briskly side-by-side as Risa is checking her backpack to make sure she grabbed everything. Risa curses under her breath, frantically zipping up her bag.

“Did you forget something?” you ask.

“I forgot my book!”

Before you know it, she is running in the opposite direction, back to your room.

“Have a good day!” you shout back at her.

“You, too!” she replies, back still turned, throwing a hand up above her head to wave at you.

You turn back around and sigh, continuing towards class, thankful that you always keep everything for all your classes in your backpack. It certainly made life easier when you didn’t have to worry about not having something.

It’s a nice walk across campus. The sun beats down against your skin, warming you despite the soft breeze whisking through your hair. You have two back-to-back classes this morning, followed by practice at 12:00. Luckily, you should have plenty of time to grab another bento box from the cafeteria after getting changed.

As you pull on the door to your building, you hear someone call your name. You turn to see Shuji jogging your way, happily waving you down.

“Y/N-kun!” he exclaims once he is beside you. “Fancy seeing you here!”

You laugh underneath your breath. “I do go to school here, too, Shuji-san,” you respond playfully.

A pretty blush touches the tips of his ears, and you take a second to really look at him for the first time, ignoring his muscles. His eyes were the color of dark chocolate, you could hardly see his pupils, and he had a light tan despite playing an indoor sport. He towered above you, standing close to six foot, four inches if you had to take an educated guess. His hair was on the longer side, barely brushing his shoulders, and he had half of it pulled back from his face in a cute little bun. His face looked like it had been cut from marble, with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and sharp nose. You had to admit, Shuji was attractive, especially with his longer hair. You could see why all the girls on campus fawned over him, but he wasn’t your type. He turns his head to make eye contact with you and you’re startled by just how pretty he is with his almond shaped eyes.

“What class are you headed to?” he asks, trying to make small talk.

“Oh, I have calculus this morning,” you respond as you both head towards the elevator. You remember seeing calculus on your schedule for 9:00 AM on Tuesday’s and cursed whoever set your schedule up for this first semester. Who wants to do math first thing in the morning?

The elevator dings, signaling the opening of the doors and you both step in. “No way! I have calculus too!” He’s smiling again. “We should meet up in the morning’s and walk together!”

“Sure,” you agree. “That sounds great! I could always use some company.”

If you were being honest, his cheerful personality kind of sucked the life out of you, but Shuji seemed really sweet, and you wanted to make friends with the volleyball team.

He continued to talk your ear off despite your minimal responses. By the time you entered the classroom together, you knew his entire schedule, including what time he goes to bed at night. Shuji seemed like a bit of an over-sharer, but you chalk it up to him just being himself.

“Do you want to sit with us at dinner again tonight?” he asks as you guys sit down for class.

“Actually, that sounds great,” you murmur. If there was anyway to get to know the team, it was by eating meals with them. You figured you’d probably spend a majority of your time at school with them anyway. Actually, you had planned for that. You wanted to spend time with them. You wanted to be close to them.

You and Shuji begin setting up your desks for class. You pull out the pretty notebook you picked out with your mom in the on-campus shop. It had pink peonies spread across the front with a black background. You dated the top of the first page and waited for your professor to show up.

Shuji continued making small talk with you until something caught his eye.

“Oi!” he calls out to someone behind you. You turn to see the guy that had left the dinner table last night when you and Risa showed up. He had to be on the team if he was eating with them. Although, you guessed, the volleyball team could have other friends.

“Tsukki!” he calls out again. The blonde turns to see Shuji calling him over and, with a roll of his eyes, comes to take the seat beside him without a word.

“I didn’t know you had calculus this morning, Tsukki,” Shuji says to the blonde now sitting diagonal from you.

“There’s a reason for that,” he mutters under his breath. You roll your eyes at him. Couldn’t he be a little bit nicer to his senpai?

Shuji feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ouch, Tsukki,” he gasps.

“It’s Tsukishima,” he corrects, turning away and facing the front of the class.

“Okay, Tsukishima, do you remember our new manager?” Shuji asks him, hooking a thumb over his shoulder and pointing it at you.

Tsukki turns slightly to look at you. He rakes his eyes along your frame, and you freeze. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you came to class naked with the way he assessed you. It felt like he was sizing you up. Your body kicks into fight or flight. Is he going to be nice?

He surprises you by smirking. “Right, Y/N,” he says before turning back around, dismissing you.

You huff out in annoyance. That’s it? You don’t even get a hello? You feel your face getting hot and try to swallow your irritation when the professor walks in to start the class.

You can’t help but let Tsukishima’s dismissal of you plague your mind. It keeps you distracted the whole class, especially because you have to look at the back of his stupid blonde head the whole time. And when class finally ends, he picks up his bag and exits the room without even saying goodbye to you or his teammate.

“He’s an odd one, that Tsukishima,” Shuji says as you both pack your things.

“I can tell,” you mutter. “He seems kind of like a jerk.”

Shuji shrugs as you both sling your bags over your shoulders. “He seems that way, but I got to see him play volleyball in high school.” You begin to walk out of class and head to your next class down the hall. “I went with Coach to scout players at the tournament last Spring,” he reveals.

This surprises you. “Is he good?” you ask, stopping in front of your classroom door.

Shuji smirks at you. “He was Karasuno’s middle blocker. Their wall.” He seemed proud to share this information with you.

You think about it. Karasuno… Karasuno… “Ah!” you exclaim. “That Karasuno?!”

He just nods excitedly, smiling from ear to ear. “I begged Coach to recruit him! I needed another tall guy like me on the team.” He puffs his chest out for good measure, causing you to laugh lightly.

“I watched Karasuno play on TV all last year,” you admit.

“I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him,” Shuji says, frowning.

You shrug. “It was hard to ignore that little redhead when he was jumping everywhere.”

Shuji sighs, like he was longing for something. “We tried to get him, too.”

“And?” you ask, leaning forward. If you got that tiny middle blocker, the team would be unstoppable.

“No dice,” Shuji tells you, crossing his arms in an X at you.

You push your lips into a pout. “Figures,” you mumble.

Shuji checks his watch and curses under his breath. He only had a couple minutes to get to his next class… across campus. You shoo him away and head into the room behind you for your Sociology class.

Class passes by quickly and, before you know it, you’re jogging across campus from your dorm to pick up another bento box from the cafeteria before practice. You eat quickly in the locker room, finishing up in time to jog up the stairs and make it into the gym at the same time as Coach. You meet up with him on the sidelines, practically bouncing on your two feet in excitement.

“We’re going to do some receiving drills today, Y/N-kun,” he tells you. He pauses for a second. “Do you know how to spike? I know you were a libero, but I could really use your help hitting the balls.”

You beam up at him, excited to just be a part of practice. “I was a spiker before I was a libero!” you exclaim.

"Great!" he responds before shouting at his team to line up and bring a ladder for you.

You carefully climb up the ladder to the platform on top, standing with your feet shoulder length apart in order to keep a good balance. You look over the net to see Hiroshi first in line.

“I’ll go easy on you to start, but it’ll get harder as we go on,” you warn them, reaching for the first ball being handed to you by the coach.

You hear a snicker and look over to see stupid, blonde Tsukishima trying to hide a smile. You glare at him before tossing the ball up and spiking it directly at Hiro, putting all your strength into it. You continue through the line until Tsukishima gets up. You toss the ball up and spike it as hard as you can, putting all your anger into it. He receives it beautifully, much to your dismay, and smirks at you before turning and heading for the back of the line.

You decide to kick it up a notch and spike it in front of them and to their sides. A couple of the players have to dive to get the receive and you praise them with a simple “nice receive” until you get to Tsukishima again. He’s already smirking at you, which just honestly pisses you off even more. You spike the ball down, sending it to his left which he just watches as it hits the floor.

“You could have gotten that,” you tell him.

“Not when I have a libero,” he taunts, smirk growing. It seemed he was going to live to push your buttons, and you knew you had to put him in his place fast or he would keep going.

“Right now, you don’t have a libero. So, receive the ball, Tsukishima,” you ground out. You don’t even attach an honorific on the end of his name which you can tell bothers him, you swear you see his eye twitch as his mouth forms into a hard line. Good. You hope it pissed him off.

You spike the ball to his left again to which he dives for and gets. You don’t even praise him for it like you were the rest of the team, and you watch as he slowly walks to the back of the line. Receiving practice continues for a little while longer before Coach announces that it was time to split up and have the setters and spikers begin their own practice.

Coach begins taking his stroll around the outside of the court, eyeing his team and calling out for any mistakes. Off to the side, you see the two libero’s the team has practicing their overhead receives back and forth with each other. You job up to join Coach on his stroll, wanting to hear more of his insight.

“I’m glad you were able to do receiving practice today,” he addresses you when you get next to him. “And thank you for putting Tsukishima in his place. He can have a bit of an attitude.”

You frown. “Was he the problem child you were referring to?” you ask.

He sighs in response, looking out to watch as Tsukishima jumps and spikes the ball over the net. “It’s not just Tsukishima-kun, some of the second years can get a little rowdy.” He chuckles lightly. “Though, what’s a volleyball team without a few rowdy players?”

You nod your head in agreement thinking of Shuji. He seemed like the loud and rowdy type. This didn’t bother you, but it did consume most of your energy. For the most part, the other members of the team seemed to have level heads. Though, only time would be able to tell you that.

Practice ends uneventfully with Hiroshi giving a pep talk about what they would be working on next practice, which was on Thursday. The team seemed to be excited for a one-day break as the energy around you seemed to buzz. You look down at your watch to see the time as 2:57 PM. As you begin to exit the gym, planning your evening in your head, Shuji and another player approach you.

“Y/N,” Shuji greets, a little out of breath from practice.

“Shuji-san,” you respond, sending him a small smile.

He looks to the player next to him before turning a smile back on you. “Yoshito and I are going to be throwing a little get together for the team and some other friends tonight at our shared house,” he informs you. “Do you want to come?”

You ponder this for a moment. This could end well for you in that you get closer to the team, but it could end badly if you drink to much. You’d never drank alcohol before, so you couldn’t say what type of drunk you are. If you had to guess, it was probably the gross lovey-dovey type, and you definitely didn’t want that side to be shown.

“Can my roommate Risa come?” you ask. You didn’t want to leave her out of it. After all, she was the closest thing you have to a best friend for only being on campus for a week.

“Of course,” Shuji replies and you don’t miss the way he tries to discreetly high five Yoshito beside him.

You shake your head at the two of them before offering a wave and heading back down to the locker room to grab your things.

                   -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

“A party?!” Risa exclaims.

“Sh!” you shush her. “Keep it down unless you want the whole floor to attend.”

She is practically bouncing up and down in front of you from excitement. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I just can’t believe we’re going to go to our first college party.” Suddenly, she gasps, smacking her hands over her mouth.

“What?!” you ask frantically, “What is it?!” Concern lacing your voice.

She pulls her hands away from her mouth just long enough to ask you: “What should I wear?” Before she covers her mouth again.

You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t know, clothes maybe?” you say sarcastically. You open your eyes again, looking at her. “Yes, let’s start with clothes.” You turn back to your closet and begin sifting through your clothes again.

You can feel her glaring at your back before she huffs out and also begins looking through her closet. Eventually, you come up with a simple outfit. You assess yourself in the mirror once you’re dressed. You chose a form fitting, black mini skirt (the only skirt you had in your entire wardrobe), and a long sleeve, sheer, sparkly crop top. You’re wearing a matching black bra underneath. You finish the outfit with your platform, black slip-on vans. You tie your hair up into a cute messy bun before turning on your roommate who was applying her lip gloss.

You had opted for a simple makeup look that consisted of a light BB cream, winged eyeliner, and some mascara. You apply some clear lip gloss to your lips as well before announcing that you were ready.

Anxiety begins to settle in your bones as you leave the safety of your dorm room and head out into the dangers of the night, unsure of what awaits you at this party. There is one thing you’re pretty sure of and that’s that Tsukishima was definitely not invited. He didn’t seem like the party type. And he definitely didn't seem like he had the personality for it. This seemed to ease your mind and you begin to feel lighter. You weren’t up for being bullied at this party tonight. You just wanted to have fun with the team and bond a little bit.

The walk to Shuji and Yoshito’s is short, they didn’t live too far off campus and, luckily, it was within walking distance. Your body begins to lightly shake with anxiety. You were excited to finally get to hang out with the team outside of practice.

You turn to Risa as you walk up onto the porch. “You ready?” you ask her. She smiles excitedly at you, nodding. You lift a hand to knock on the door when it opens up before your knuckles can touch it.

You pull your lips into a smile, ready to greet and thank the person who opened the door. But when you look up, you make eye contact with golden eyes, not the dark chocolate ones you were expecting. And when you focus your vision, you see the one and only Tsukishima towering over you, smirking down at you as the smile falls from your face and is replaced with the glare solely reserved for him.

[outofcontexthellinahonda]

Might as well put cut scenes here too

This account is just for me tbh but if anyone sees this yall can check it out too. So, I’m not fully cutting this scene but I am repurposing most of it. I want to do it from May’s POV instead of Drew’s (note, they aren’t the entire fic! just maybe 1/4th of it), but I had too much good content to fully trash it so I think most of this will be kept, just not in this form. This scene is not only based on a cut scene but it had its own cut scene, both of which I’ll add at the bottom. If it isn’t evident, I end up with a lot of writing that never sees the light of day. Also tumblr fucks with the formatting, sorry. I mean, I apologize as if anyone’s going to see this but idkkkkkk

(upon being given Drew’s flannel since she was cold)

May snuggled into it- Drew tried to ignore the blush that crept in on his face, seeing her in his clothes. The usual implications of which being a thought path he didn't particularly need to go down at that moment. Drew caught Brock raising his eyebrows in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t say anything. May spoke, bringing him out of his thoughts. “This is so soft-where did you get it from?”

“Oh, um-Solidad picked it out for me. Something about how I need to start dressing like a ‘real person’ and less like a ‘confused color wheel’.”

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, and she was being nice. You used to dress like you woke up half-naked and drunk in a thrift store and you had about five seconds to get dressed before the cops came.”

“That is so oddly specific.” Dawn gave Harley a weird look, but didn’t press further. Which was a good thing- Drew was fairly sure the drunk thrift store thing was based on a real story that nobody wanted to hear. 

May had cocooned herself in it when she spoke again. “Either way, I don’t know if you’re getting it back.”

Fine by me, he thought, though he kept it to himself. He didn’t need to add any more fuel to the car’s ongoing ‘May and Drew’ fire. That was a fire he held like a lighter rather than a raging bonfire- close to his heart, a delicate warmth rather than an oppressive heat for everyone to see. 

A little flame that kept him warmer than his flannel ever could.

------------------------

Cut scene’s cut scene, which interrupted pacing and was leaning a little introspective for this early in the fic: 

That fire had been growing steadily for a while. It was nothing official. Nothing more than a couple drunk kisses in the corner of the bar and a decade’s worth of late-night conversations and lingering glances, and yet… it was nothing less than that, either. It was the crossroads of being something and nothing- an in-between of potential that neither of them quite knew how to approach. But god, Drew wanted to.

But through it all was an undercurrent of worry. A fire could always blaze out of control, burning through its fuel until it extinguished itself. 

-----------------

the ORIGINAL cut scene:

“I’m cold, can you turn the heat on?” May asked from the back. 

Just as Brock reached for the AC, Barry interjected from somewhere behind him. “No way, I’m burning up over here! I’m all squished against Dawn and she’s like a human heating pad-I will FINE YOU if you turn the heat up!”

“I’m with Barry,” Chloe said- the first thing she’d said in a while, Brock noted. He had to wonder if even she was starting to get weary. “May, don’t you have a sweater or something?”

“I mean… I did, but I forgot my luggage.”

“And whose fault is that, hon?”

“Literally yours, Harley! If you hadn't moved my stuff-”

“Harley, the car was calm while you were asleep, let’s keep it that way,” Brock snapped. Or I’ll come back there and knock you out myself. “Does anyone have a sweater May can borrow?”

Somewhere in the way back, Brock heard Drew. “Yeah, I’ve got one. Let me take it off.”

“I’m cold too!” Harley complained.

Drew shrugged, handing his sweater to May. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”

[captainsassmanes]

Here’s my Malex remix gift for @cosmicclownboy! I took a little bit of your meta, some of the small things you like (Alex + leather, yes please!) and created this drabble. I hope you enjoy :) 

Open Up My Eager Eyes

“You’re either cruel, stupid or a bit of both.”

Michael huffed out an unamused laugh and rolled his eyes as he brought the rim of his beer glass to his lips. Kyle didn’t move, his smirk and raised eyebrow still perfectly in place.

“Not that I give a shit but,” Michael sighed and turned in his seat, “what exactly are you talking about?”

Contrary to what was probably popular opinion, Michael wasn’t stupid. He was well aware that the only time he and Kyle exchanged more than a passing nod, the topic was always the same.

Alex.

“There’s no way,” Kyle said leaning against the bar top, his bicep flexing in his perfectly fitting denim jacket, “that you haven’t noticed what Alex has been doing.”

Michael smirked and shrugged, helpless against the urge to rile Kyle up. “What’s he been doing, Doc?”

Shaking his head, Kyle threw back the rest of his beer, smacking his lips before standing and tossing a few bucks on the bar.

“Alex has been sad and lonely for way too long. You and I both know the man’s incredible and deserves the best so,” Kyle smiled as he pulled out his keys. “Tomorrow night, Isobel and I are taking him to Planet 7.”

Michael’s façade fell with no hope of keeping it in place. His cheeks paled and he swallowed past the panic rising in his throat. If the smile on Kyle’s face was any indicator, he knew his words had hit their target.

“He might not find Mr. Right at the club but Mr. Good Enough for Tonight will probably be there.” He clapped Michael on the shoulder before heading out the door, arrogant swagger followed like a cloud.

Michael was frozen, brain sifting through too many thoughts at once. Why was this always happening? Why were they always on two different paths when he was so desperate to be right next to Alex? He figured he’d had time after Alex and Forrest fizzled out, do the awkward acquaintance thing then move into friendship then -

“If I were you-”

“Jesus Christ!” Michael jumped, hand moving to his chest as he caught his breath. He was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice when Rosa had taken the seat next to him.

She just laughed. “If I were you, cowboy, I’d show up at the club and tell him how I felt.”

“How I’m – “

“We all know you’ve been in love with each other forever. You’re just too stubborn to deal with your shit and communicate. You people keep claiming to be adults, but I just see one idiot after another.”

“Ouch,” Michael chuckled, giving Rosa a playful push. He sighed, pulling on his hat and digging out a few bucks. “I’ve messed up so many times for so many years. I guess, if I were him, I’d probably tell me to fuck off.”

“Nah,” Rosa stood, heading back to her friends. “Just be honest. Talk, for god’s sake.” She put her fingers to her lips and then shoved her kiss aggressively against Michael’s cheek with a wink.

Talk, Michael thought. Easier said than done.

***********

It took Michael longer to get ready than he’d planned. No one seemed to realize it, but it took a considerable amount of time and effort to get his curls to fall just the right way. He showered, shaved, fixed his hair and tried on every shirt he owned. Ultimately, he went with his usual style: jeans, clean white t-shirt and a relatively new purple, long-sleeved flannel.

The night air was cool, whipping his hair in front of his eyes as he drove to the club. In his many years living in Roswell, Michael never visited Planet 7. He didn’t know why. He certainly wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality, though he wasn’t walking around with a pride pin on his chest, either.

There was a first time for everything.

He parked the truck and took a few deep breaths, tapping nervously against the steering wheel. Michael watched as more than a few very attractive people walked in and out of the door. He’d been so focused on the environment, how he’d fit into the club, what he’d say to Alex, that he forgot Alex would be here, looking gorgeous he had no doubt, surrounded by other gorgeous, and horny, people.

“Just be honest. Just talk.” Michael repeated his new mantra to himself as he walked into the noise and flashing lights. He did his best to kiss the wall, wanting to survey the scene before diving right in. He’d planned an entire speech for Alex, practicing parts of it over and over again in his tiny mirror while he fought with his hair. Michael found the bar and ordered himself a beer, nodding politely at the blonde with the bright smile who handed him the bottle.

Across the room, highlighted in shades of pink and purple from the lights, Alex sat at a table by himself. He had a small smile on his face though Michael could tell, even from so far away, that it was laced with sadness. He followed Alex’s eyes and watched as Isobel and Kyle danced drunkenly with a small group, laughing and smiling, hands and drinks everywhere. Kyle waved Alex over, trying to get him to join in, but Alex just smiled wider and shook his head, taking a sip of his drink.

He looked stunning. Alex’s hair had gotten long and he’d let some facial hair grow around his perfect mouth. A blue t-shirt emphasized the shape of his chest and his arms and, Michael noticed with a flush to his cheeks, a leather jacket was thrown carefully over the back of his chair.

He shouldn’t be alone, Michael’s brain supplied as he felt a wave of confidence and a pure need he had been ignoring for too long.

Moving across the dance floor, Michael did his best to move between the sweaty, dancing bodies, his eyes never leaving Alex. He stood in front of Alex, whose eyes lifted, and jaw slightly dropped. Michael offered his hand with a serious look on his face.

“Dance with me.”

Alex placed his drink on the table and slid his hand into Michael’s, strong hands holding one another. They found their own space, as far from the crowd as they could go, as a slower song played through the speakers. Michael slid his arm around Alex’s back, fingers finding bare skin beneath the soft cotton. His other arm moved slowly between Alex’s muscled shoulder blades, pulling with a desperation at the neck of the shirt. Alex hesitated for just a second, seeming to process what was happening. His hands moved up Michael’s chest, arms coming to rest once they were wrapped around Michael’s neck, one hand moving into those chestnut curls where his fingers couldn’t stop running through the strands. They rounded into one another, practically becoming one. Their faces rested in the crook of the others neck, both taking deep breaths and closing their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered, breath tickling the shell of Alex’s ear, causing goosebumps to race down his neck. “I was terrified.”

“Of what?” Michael thought, if he could taste Alex’s voice, it’d be sweet like berries in summer.

“I can’t mess this up again, Alex. I think it’ll kill me.” He felt Alex nod in understanding, hair brushing against his cheek. Alex stood straight to meet his gaze. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. You just seemed to – “

“I know.” Michael said, eyes squeezing shut from embarrassment. “I knew what you were doing, and I wanted to talk, to start over, so badly. I just kept picturing messing it up or you walking away, and I couldn’t - “

“I’m not going anywhere this time, Michael. I’m right here.” Alex’s hand moved to Michael’s face, thumb dragging gently across his stubbled jaw.

Michael’s shoulders relaxed and his chest lost some of its tightness as a calm washed over him. Alex rested his forehead against Michael’s as his slid his thigh between the other man’s legs, both hands returning to the curls he never seemed to get enough of. “I’m not going anywhere, Michael.”

Michael sighed and pulled Alex closer, their bodies moving with the music, lost in their own world while the universe spun around them.

“I forgot what this felt like,” Michael laughed, rubbing his nose against Alex’s. Alex smiled and asked, “what?”

“Happiness.”

[newtsies]

Wish You Were Sober || Ralbert One Shot

a/n: this one shot is based off the song ‘Wish You Were Sober’ by Conan Gray! anything italicized and bold is lyrics of the song! its from Alberts perspective but its 3rd person if that makes sense idk. includes both  92sies and livesies characters. albert and race are based off of the livesies characters

tw: mentions of alcohol, drunk race, swearing, mentions of weed, mentions of possible drink spiking

modern college newsies au!

word count: 2,401

this party's shit

All Albert wants to do is leave, but he couldn’t do that. Race was drunk, even though he would deny it, it was obvious. Now usually that wouldn’t stop Albert from leaving but, Racetrack had driven himself. He couldn’t let his drunk friend drive himself home.

All Albert wants to do is leave, but he couldn’t do that. Race was drunk, even though he would deny it, it was obvious. Now usually that wouldn’t stop Albert from leaving but, Racetrack had driven himself. He couldn’t let his drunk friend drive himself home.

“Racer,” Albert yelled into Race’s ear over the loud music.

He grinned widely at him and threw his arms around Albert, “Albie!! Have ya had a drink yet? C’monn, juss take a sip!”

Albert winced at the smell of alcohol on the blonde boys breath and shook his head, “You’re drunk, Race. Let’s go. You’re gonna have a horrible hangover tomorrow!”

“Aw, I’m not drunk, Albie!!” He slurred, “C’mon, have some fun! Don’t be soo tense!”

go anywhere but here

“Racetrack, I really don’t want to be here,” Albert begged, “Can’t we go to McDonalds or something? Get you coffee and get you sober?” Race shook his head.

“Noo, they have good drinks! Just try the beer, you’ll see!” Race raised his can but Albert pushed the cup away from him. Race shrugged and walked away into the crowd.

Albert stood on his toes in attempt to follow his friend through the crowd. Race walked towards Jack Kelly, the football captain, who had his arm wrapped around David Jacobs shoulder. As Racetrack sat down, he was offered a blunt from Skittery.

don’t take a hit

Racetrack pulled it to his lips and inhaled. Albert frowned as he watched his friend blow out the smoke and smile. He repeated this action a couple more times.

Albert shook his head again and made his way back to a couch. He sat down, trying to get away from the loudness. The music still boomed, even in the farthest corners of the house. People bumped into his leg and shouted over each other. He closed his eyes and covered his ears in an attempt to escape his reality.

A few seconds passed before he felt someone sit next to him. He opened his eyes to see Racetrack, still holding the joint. Albert was met with a tired looking smile, but he knew his friend was anything but tired. Race started to lean into his face, but Albert pushed his face away lightly.

don’t kiss my lips

Race frowned for a second but shrugged and went back to smoking. Eventually, he got up and handed the blunt back to Skittery. Albert watched as he danced to the music, carefree. Acting as though there was no one else in the world.

Albert was memorized and watched him with a grin. The song ended, Race made his way to the kitchen. Albert jumped up and followed him, pushing through the crowd.

“Race!” He called, finally pushing into the kitchen.

and please don’t drink more beer

Racetrack brought the can of beer up to his lips and chugged it down. Albert winced once more and attempted to pull the drink away. However, he was ignored and pushed away as his friend continued to drink.

“Race, you’re cross-faded,” Albert groaned, “I really think you should go home. I’ll drive you, or walk you.”

“I’m fine, Albie! Honestly. It’s a partyyy, this is supposed to happen!” Race stated confidently, his words slurring every so often. Albert shook his head and looked at Race desperately. His friend ignored him and instead grabbed onto his hand and pulled him through the house.

“Albert! Racetrack!” Spot called out to them, “Hey guys!”

“Spott!” Race slurred and giggled. He pulled Albert towards to Spot.

Spot had a beer in hand but placed a hand on Race’s chest to hold him up, “Jesus, Race. You’re drunk as hell. Having a good time?” Racetrack nodded excitedly at him. Spot smiled and looked at Albert. “Haven’t had a drink yet, man?”

“He wants to goo, can you believe him?” Race scoffed.

“Albert! C’mon, man! You gotta just let loose some times!” Spot quirked his eyebrow and held out his drink to Albert.

Albert shook his head, “No thanks, Spot. This really isn’t my kinda place. Thanks though, it was pretty cool. I had fun.” That was a lie. There was nothing fun about this to him, but you wouldn’t catch him dissing the football captains party.

i’ma crawl out the window now

Albert pulled away from Race’s hand and pushed his way to the front door. Sarah Jacobs was using the door to support her back as she giggled her way through kisses with Elmer. Elmer too was laughing as he kissed her and ran his hands through her hair.

Albert sighed and swerved towards an open window. He climbed through it and fell onto the grass. The grass was cold and wet, possibly from dew or possibly from spilled alcohol. He groaned and walked out.

cause i don’t like anyone around

He was grateful to finally be away from everyone. The music was a lot quieter and he could only faintly hear people talking. Although he had no beer, his head was pounding. He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

kinda hope you’re followin’ me out

He heard someone fall through the window and turned around to see who it was. Instead of being met with Race, as he hoped, he saw Henry on the floor laughing. Henry jumped out and shouted at the boys as he pulled himself back in through the window.

but this is definitely not my crowd

Romeo was passed out on the stairs, his head hanging off the step. His arm was hanging off too but his hand was wrapped firmly around a can of beer. Mush and Kid Blink were making out against the door too, except on the front side. They weren’t giggling either, just kissing each other.

A baseball flew threw one of the windows and nearly hit Albert, who ducked just in time. The whole window was shattered. Albert shook his head and continued to walk throw the lawn until he got to the sidewalk.

19 but you act 25 now

Albert was stopped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, weakly attempting to hold him back. He turned to see Race who was panting and smiling at him. Albert smiled a little back at him and helped him stand up straight.

“They had so much alcohol! It was all amazing- They had- They had the best brands too! The wine made me feel so fancy!” Race rambled.

Albert chuckled a little, “You’re 19, Race. How do you know so much about alcohol? You can’t even legally drink it yet.”

His friend grinned and shrugged as he kept talking about the party.

knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow

Race was all but wobbling, leaning against Albert for support. Nonetheless, he continued to talk about his adventures clearly.

“I downed like 5 cans,” He stated proudly, “Hey, did you know Crutchie is like amazing at chugging! He downed like 8 beer cans! Oh, today. Spot taught me that space doesn’t stop expanding, isn’t that crazy?”

Albert nodded, pretending as if they didn’t learn that in 8th grade. Race looked at the cup in his hand, noticing it still had liquid in it. He grinned and brought it to his lips, drinking the practically full cup in just one gulp. Albert sighed.

ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Race shivered as cold air hit his knees through the rips in his jeans. His flannel blew behind him and presented the white tank top underneath it. He held the empty cup in his hand.

Albert couldn’t help but watch Race. His friend was very attractive, he wouldn’t deny it to himself, only to other. Racetrack crumpled the cup and tossed it into some yard.

“That’s not good for the environment,” Albert sighed, but Race just shrugged at him. Albert continued, “What was in the cup?”

trade drinks, but you don’t even know her

“Dunno! Me and this reallyyyy pretty girl traded drinks!” He grinned.

“Who was it?”Albert asked.

“No idea,” Race chuckled, “Never seen her before! Didn’t ask for her name, music was too loud.”

“Race!” Albert groaned, “The drink coulda been spiked!”

“Nah,” He laughed, “Saw her drink out of it before we traded. Plus, I feel fine. I left anyways, so it’ll be okay.”

save me ‘til the party is over

“Anyways, I noticed you were gone. Thought you were kidding. Decided I’ll keep you company ‘til the party ended. Consider it me saving you,” Race grinned, his words slurring even more than at the party.

Albert forced a smile and shook his head.

“Give me your keys,” Albert stated. Race tilted his head in confusion but gave him the keys anyway. They walked together to Race’s Rover. Albert held the door open for Race and helped him inside. He then closed the door and climbed into the drivers side.

kiss me in the seat of your rover

As soon as he got into the driver seat, Race grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. For a second, Albert forgot his friend was drunk. He slid his hand into Race’s hair and kissed him back, until he opened his mouth and Albert could taste the alcohol Race had drank. Albert pulled away and pushed away Race’s hands away as his friend attempted to pull him into a kiss again.

real sweet but i wish you were sober

Albert looked up and held his eyes open, attempting to hold back tears. He closed his eyes and banged his head gently against the steering wheel.

“Why did you pull away,” Race whispered.

“You’re drunk,” Albert choked out, “You’ll forget tomorrow, anyways. I can’t kiss you. Just drunken feelings, Race, that’s what you’re feeling. I don’t feel that. I got real feeling, sober feelings. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

trip down the road

Albert turned the keys and started the car. Driving off towards Race’s house. Nearly halfway there, the car started sputtering. He pulled off to the side, only to see the gas tank was empty.

He groaned and got out of the car, pulling Race out too. Albert called Tripple-A.

“We can take you boys home,” The tow-truck driver offered. Albert shook his head.

“We’ll walk, it’s only a bit from here,” Albert stated and pulled Race along the sidewalk.

walking you home

Race couldn’t walk straight. Albert was holding his hand and pulling him, but he kept tripping. Albert sighed and ducked under Race’s armpit and supported him. He wrapped his arm around his blonde friend’s waist and held him up.

Albert continued to walk himself and Race towards the rental house his friend lived at. After a bit, they finally arrive at the house. Albert walked him up the porch.

you kiss me at your door

Racetrack grabbed Albert’s face and pulled him into a kiss again. Albert sighed and pulled away, resting his forehead against Race’s. Race sighed too, the alcohol on his breath filled Albert’s nose. He groaned and grabbed his friends keys.

He pulled Race into his own house and sat him down on the couch, moving to the kitchen. Albert quickly made coffee, black coffee, and sat down next to Race. He brought the cup up to Racetrack’s lips and made him drink it.

Race’s nose wrinkled at the bitter taste, but he drank it anyways. Albert brought the cup down and place it on the table.

“Finish drinking the coffee. Take this,” Albert placed an ibuprofen on the table, “Then go to sleep, okay? I’ll come check up on you tomorrow.” He started to get up.

pulling me close, beg me stay over

Race pulled Albert close to him, and looked at him with sad eyes.

“Stay, Albert. Please,” He begged, “You can stay on the couch. Don’t leave me here alone.”

but i’m over the roller coaster

Albert sighed and kissed Race on the forehead, “Not this time, Race. You’ve  kissed me twice today, and you’ll forget that in like 5 minutes. I’m tired, man. It’s been a crazy day. Tomorrow, I’ll be back. I promise. I gotta go.”

i’ma crawl out the window now

He placed the house keys on the table and moved towards the door. Albert figured that Race wouldn’t get up, meaning he wouldn’t lock the door behind Albert. So, he locked the door for him then crawled out of Race’s window. He closed the window behind him and watched Race’s hand lazily lock the window.

getting good at saying, “gotta bounce”

Albert didn’t expect to drag himself home. Usually, he would just go along with what Race said. “Stay,” was all it usually took to get him to stay.

He’s just getting better at saying goodbye, he figures.

honestly you always let me down

Race was always dragging him to things, promising to not drink. It never happened. He would always drag him home and make sure he didn’t die. But, no matter how many times Race let him down, Albert would still go along with him.

Albert grumpily walked into his house, angrily slamming the door behind him. He kissed Race twice today. His friend wouldn’t even remember. He shook back tears before climbing into bed and falling asleep.

He woke up early the next morning due to a consistent ringing of his door bell. A hand banged on the door repeatedly while the door bell rang. Albert climbed out of bed and opened the door.

and i know we’re not just hanging out

Albert didn’t even get a minute to register who was at the door before he was pulled into a kiss.

“I didn’t forget,” Race whispered into his ear before pulling him back into another kiss. Albert grinned and finally kissed him back.

No trace of alcohol was in Race’s system.

He was sober.

--

[vanillann]

5 star conversation (r.p)

a/n: since it’s valentine’s day i thought i should update my softest series to date

word count: 3.3k

reggie peters x gender neutral!reader

5 star conversation masterlist

place three: a 1 star fair

“Flynn, just trust me okay?”

Flynn said nothing as she fell back on the tour bus's couch, for a single second the tiniest smirk was painted across her lips.

“Who are you doing this for exactly?” She got cozy, looking at me from where I stood against the kitchen tops.

“The band,” I nodded, trying my best to keep my voice natural as I lie through my teeth.

“Maybe a bassist in particular?” Flynn laughed when I rolled my eyes, turning back to the open cupboard and looking through the never ending rows of snacks.

“Just thought-”

“I’ll give the driver the address,” Flynn pushed off the cushions and walked behind me, placing her chin on my shoulder for a second, “just hurry up and tell him before the tour is over.”

I smiled slightly at Flynn, the address of the fair pulled up on her phone as she skipped to tell the driver. I played with one of the boxes in front of me, completely zoned out as I watched her back.

How would I just tell him?

The truth was Reggie deserved more than a simple confession, he deserved something crazy you would only hear about in a romcom or even bigger. I didn’t know what I was thinking, maybe I was hoping to see if confessing was even a good idea.

“Whatcha thinking?”

I jumped at how close the voice was, spinning around to find myself face to face with the boy in question. He had a goofy smile on his face and held his hands behind his back while rocking back and front.

“Reg,” I let his name roll off the tongue, letting my breathing return to normal as I calmed my nerves from the little jump scare.

“Sorry, you zoned out I got worried.”

I can have a delicate smile, trying my best. best to remind me he was only a boy. A really cute boy.

“I’m fine, trying to work on some new designs for merchandise,” I shrugged, his smile soft as his eyes seemed to roam my face. I tried not to think much of it, maybe it was nothing, but he always looked at me like I meant something.

“Any good ideas?” He didn’t say anything else as he reached over me, looking at the snacks behind me while trapping me to the counter. His soft scent of lavender and cedarwood was odd but comforting as he had started using my perfume when he would go on stage, claiming it was lucky.

“I-uhm- '' my brain refused to use words, the idea of novelty items barely on the tip of my tongue as I rambled. I didn’t even know what I was saying to be honest, but Reggie smiled and nodded like I had done something right and that was enough for me.

“People will have flannels with my face on it? That’s awesome!” He jumped on his feet slightly, smiling like a puppy dog at the idea.

“I thought you’d like it, and your face would only be on the pocket,” I pointed at him, making sure this didn’t get to his head.

“I don’t even care, if you had told me this in 95 I wouldn't have believed you!”

He spun slightly, moving to the couch Flynn was laying on a little while ago, a Poptart held in between his fingers as he swung around slightly.

“I’m proud of how far you’ve come,” I shrugged. I didn’t think much of my words but when Reggie spun to look at me thought it over.

He looked so emotional, his eyes searching my face as if I told him he won the Nobel Peace Prize. I took the time to take him in, the look he was giving me was something I would never want to forget.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Of course, you’ve come so far and-” my words were cut off, arms around my frame in seconds and all I could smell was Reggie. All I could think was Reggie. I was all Reggie.

I lifted my fingers, playing with the black shirt he wore while he drew shapes on my arm.

“Thank you,” he muttered softly, his voice sounded far away as we stood in the kitchen.

“Anytime Reg.”

The silence that followed was nice, something I enjoyed deeply as I felt his arm grow tired around me.

“I need to say something,” Reggie pulled back just enough for me to see his face, the hard light from outside made his look like he was glowing almost.

“What-”

“Is that the last Poptrat?”

I push off Reggie, my hands find the countertop behind me as I tried my best to not look so caught. I frowned when I noticed Luke’s smirk, his eyes looking between Reggie and I while his finger pointed to the Poptrat that Reggie held in his hand.

“I-uhm- it’s the last Strawberry-” Reggie tripped over his words, suddenly letting the Poptrat fall from his finger before he reached out to grab it.

“You gonna eat it?” Luke slowly crossed his arms, his muscle tee making his arm look large and intimidating as he looked between us both.

“Oh uhm-” Without another word Reggie crammed the Poptrat into his mouth, a nervous laugh fell from his lips and he smiled at Luke. I covered my mouth, doing my best to hide my little giggles as the two bickers, something we had all grown to use too.

“Well, guess we have to get some when we stop,” Luke snapped, his smirk only growing when he saw me glide my thumb over my neck, begging him to shut up just for once.

“When are we stopping?” I was in shock to see Reggie and pretty much already finished the Poptrat but said nothing about it.

“A few minutes, (Y/N) here had a plan.”

I suddenly felt stuck and Reggie turned to look at me, his eyes scanning my own for answers as my brain broke. I forgot everything, what even was my name anymore?

“I need to find Alex and Julie,” the words came out rushed, I didn’t even wait for Luke or Reggie to answer before I was slipping out of the tension filled room to the back where we slept.

My feet were working faster than my brain, carrying me away from Luke’s cursed situation. Why did he always have to do that?

I really was starting to hate Luke Patterson.

“(Y/N)!”

I jumped, my hand over my heart again and I swear I was going to put cow bells on everyone before the last venue in a few weeks.

“Julie!” I did my best to match her excitement but I could tell she saw right through me.

“Where is this place you taking us?”

“Surprise?” I did my best jazz hands, an awkward smile on my lips as I tried to escape everyone for a minute. This whole crush thing was so overwhelming.

“Spill,” she grabbed my upper arm, not thinking twice as we slipped into the nearby bathroom and shut the door. Julie leaned against the door, the small space only has so much room as I sat on the top of the toilet.

“It was a surprise for Reg,” I shrugged, trying not to make eye contact with Julie as I played with one of the rings on my fingers. Flynn got it for me at a cheap store that was supposed to be a mood ring but it never moved from the deep blue.

“Is it his birthday? Did I forget again?” Julie started to panic but I grabbed the end of her sweater to stop her.

“No, it’s this one star fair I found on the internet.”

“A one star fair?”

“I know I was shocked when I found it, apparently it just open so it doesn’t have a lot of reviews-”

“How are you both so in love?” Julie almost laughed at my rambling, her smile bright as she looked at me and talked with my hand.

“Don’t use the “L” words, but yeah I have a crush on him. I just thought it would be funny,” I held my headrest on the wall behind me.

I shouldn’t have thought of this plan. This might be the worst idea I’ve had in a while.

“It’s cute,” Julie smiled sweetly at me, something I was grateful for.

“It’s not stupid?” I looked up at her, my knee almost knocking her as we seemed to draw closer with each word.

“Of course not!” Julie reached out for my hand, which I obviously let her take. She gave the slightest smile, my own smile meeting my lips before a loud banging on the bathroom door took our moment.

“I have to pee!” Alex’s voice echoed through the crowded bathroom.

*

Reggie almost fell from the tour bus, a little death glare over his shoulder at Flynn who didn’t look to feel bad for her little shove. He was stalling and it was starting to send me in a panic, as I rocked on my heels in front of the fair with a nervous smile.

Once Reggie stopped looking at Flynn to me, his face fell for a second. I did awkward jazz hands, hoping I didn’t blow this joke out of the water and I now looked stupid. Reggie read the sign above my head, his head tilted but a little smile was now painted on his lips.

“What’s this?”

“A one-star fair?” It came out as more of a question and I hoped I wasn’t digging this hole even deeper. The smile that once painted his face grew, his feet took off until he was in front of me and wrapping his head around me.

I fell back slightly at the force but smiled nonetheless, happy that I had chosen the right place for our break. I let my arms wrap around the back of his next, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and I couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

I looked over his shoulder, rolling my eyes and Alex and Luke made kissy faces and Flynn turned and rubbed her hand over her back as if she was kissing someone. My friends were middle schoolers.

“I love it,” Reggie whispered in my ear before he pulled back, his eyes going back to the sign above my head before he grabbed my hand and turned over his shoulder.

“Race ya to the bumper cars!”

Without another word, Reggie was almost pulling me behind me as we raced into the fair. My legs were slightly burning and my throat felt sore from laughing but I couldn’t bring myself to care as Reggie rushed around different obstacles. The workers looked annoyed at us as we rushed around them, our laugh probably way too loud for this time in the evening but I couldn't care as I looked over my shoulder to find Alex and Flynn holding hands and pracing like they belonged in the Sound of Music. Reggie came to a stop, my body colliding into his back.

“We won!”

He jumped around, I tried my best to ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapped in mine. It felt so normal, like it was meant to be glued together for an art project.

“Because you ran like Lighting McQueen,” Flynn commented, giving Reggie while squeezing my arm.

“Who’s that again?” Reggie turned to me, his eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer but it never came. Instead a laugh bubbled out the back of my throat, looking at his confused face was making it worse.

“I thought you were on my team!”

“I am,” I did my best to defend myself but my laughing only grew louder the longer we stood there.

“Where’s Julie and Luke?”

“Getting passes,” Alex pointed over his shoulder, his eyes looking at me and he quickly sent a wink. Did everyone know about my plan?

“Until then, (Y/N) and I will walk around.”

I nodded, smiling at Reggie while I waved at Flynn and Alex. The two gave me a thumbs up and I was grateful Reggie didn’t decide to turn around in that moment.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

I looked back at him, smiling as I still felt our hands together. He hadn’t let go yet.

“I wanted to, since you planned the diner,” I shrugged, as if I didn’t seem almost a week planning and searching to find a place that was five star that I didn’t think would kill us.

“Well thank you, the bus was starting to get stuffy with everyone.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. I loved the band, they were everything to me, but it’s hard living on a bus with them. Flynn and I lived in a studio apartment together and that became a lot at times, although the fans loved the content they got because of us living together.

I spotted Julie waving at us, I excused myself from Reggie and walked to her. She smiled at me, holding passes in her hand that were obviously made for some cheap car-stock paper, which I felt add to the vibe of the entire park. It had a few basic rides and a bunch of rigged games, with the oldest looking Ferris Wheel in the world.

“Does he look happy?” I asked Julie as soon as I got close enough, taking the passes from her out of reach and looking over my shoulder. As soon as I did he waved at me, going back to looking at the sky.

“Yes, very. He’d be happy if you dug him a hole with nothing in it,” Julie shrugged, squeezing my shoulder.

“I think I’m gonna tell him,” I spoke, a little smile playing on my lips as Julie smirked.

“I would hope you didn’t drag us out here for nothing to happen.”

I rolled my eyes, walking backwards to Reggie as I stuck my tongue out at her, which she returned. Once I knew I was growing closer I turned around, handing Reggie one of the passes with a smile.

“What’s first on the agenda?” I looked up at him, smiling when he gave me that look. The same look from the hotel and the diner, like I meant something.

“I have to win you a stuffed animal, I’d be a horrible person if I didn’t!”

He didn’t wait for me this time, walking to the nearest rigged game and flashing the pass at the guy. The boy behind the counter seemed bored, barely giving us a glance before handing Reggie the darts.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Totally,” he brushed me off, closing his left eye and sticking his tough out the side of his mouth. I watched him and admired him more so.

The sun was about to set behind him, casting the prettiest glow across his hair and his features. He looked so consistent and his eyebrows raised to his hairline. He looked like something out of a romcom, where the girl realizes it has always been the boy in front of her.

He threw the dart, completely missing the board and falling to the grow. I watched the boy cover his mouth, hiding a laugh and I frown. I didn’t waste time, reaching for one of Reggie’s darts and quickly aiming at the dart board. I toned out all the noise, quickly throwing the dart and making it in the center. I smirked, looking at the boy with an innocent smile.

“I win, right?”

“Uhm, yeah,” he turned around and took the dart out of the board, taking the other dart from in front of Reggie and turning back to me. I looked over the stuffed animals, my eyes landing on one of a small brown horse. I pointed at that one, not saying a word as I watched him pull it down without hesitation.

As soon as the horse was placed in my palm the boy went back to his phone, ignoring Reggie and I. I finally looked at Reggie, his eyes still trained on the dart board with his jaw hanging. He turned back to me, his smile reaching his lips again as he jumped up and down.

“That was amazing!”

I grabbed one of his wrists, his hand held open in front of me as I placed the horse in the center of his hand.

“Now you have a horse,” I shrugged, thinking back to the conversation from the diner with a little smile. He looked between the horse and I, the smile only kept growing and I felt myself jump within myself.

I was going to tell him. I was going to tell him that I was completely whipped for him no matter the place or time. No matter if it was a one star or five star hotel, I wanted Reggie Peters at my side.

As my mouth opened to speak I heard loud screaming, turning around to find the front of the gate was full of girls and boys alike, each had shirts with Julie and the Phantom plaster on the front.

“Crap,” I grabbed Reggie’s wrist, ducking behind a display as I looked around for everyone else. I saw Luke wave at us, everyone climbing onto the Ferrie’s Wheel. I pointed to him, Reggie getting my idea as we jumped from display to display.

We got caught.

Once we got close enough to the Ferris Wheel we made a dart for it, smiling when Luke held an empty container for us, both of us jumping in and sitting on the floor instead of the seats. Luke quickly joined the other, waving the worker to start the machine. I smiled when I heard the loud creek, now this was definitely an adventure.

“Taylor didn’t like that,” Reggie held up the horse for me slightly, laughing when I rolled my eyes.

“Did you name your horse after Taylor Swift?”

“I plead the fifth!”

I laughed harder but my laughs were replaced with yelps as the machine started rocking, not in a fun way either. I leaned into Reggie's side without thinking but he said nothing, letting his arm wrap around my shoulder to keep me at his side. I felt myself chew at my bottom, wondering what would have happened if the fan didn’t come.

“Thank you, I know we didn’t get to hang out before we got busted but it means alot.”

I nodded against his chest, looking up at the cotton candy pink skies above us as the machine started up again. I felt Reggie’s head move, most likely looking up at what I was looking at.

“It was nothing.”

“It was everything (Y/N), you are everything,” his words were soft against my ear, this breath hot over the cool breeze that washed over my face. I didn’t want to look him in the eye, I didn’t think I could handle it but his finger grabbed my chin and I didn’t have a choice.

His nose brushed against mine, his face so close I couldn’t imagine this would ever happen. He looked so innocent and perfect and I just felt myself leaning in until the container door was ripped open, one of the bodyguards from the bus stood above us.

Reggie and I broke from each other, his horse falling between us as my side rushed into the metal seat. I felt the embarrassment overtake my body, this body guard looked sorry but also told us he would be escorting us from the fair.

I nodded, letting Reggie get out first as I sat in self-pity for a second while rubbing my hand over my face.

Maybe I shouldn’t sign up for any more one-star events.

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