#i forgot to put the title name first so sorry if you see the edit

[montammil]

In Glory, in Ruin - part 1

New series! This will contain pet whump, but I decided to make a slightly more sadistic whumper than my other two stories because I like spontaneity. Please give feedback and send as many asks about them as you want!

CW: Suggestive, death threats, mob boss whumper, intimate/creepy whumper, future pet whump, mafia/mob/crime whump, mentioned murder

...

Diesel's life was pretty ordinary. He went about his day like any other person would in the city. The hustle and bustle of the city streets was a background noise that helped him tune out all the thoughts inside his head. He was a pretty ordinary, scrawny guy, so it was easy to go unnoticed by those around him. To most, they'd think he was just another stressed out white collar worker, like most in the city.

Well, the 'stressed out' part was true.

His father owed some awful guys a lot of debt, but never paid it off. When he died, that debt was passed to Diesel.

Yet they didn't want money from him, when he made it clear he couldn't pay it off. They decided to use him as an asset, which was the only reason he had been working this stupid job for the past three years.

"Jasper Lynn is the guy we want dirt on," he was told. "Boss of The Iron Syndicate, slippery fucker he is."

Of course Diesel had heard of him before. Everyone knew about Jasper.

It was common knowledge he killed his own father after taking over The Iron Syndicate ten years ago. Not even twenty at the time and he was one of the most dangerous people in the world.

There were all sorts of rumors surrounding him; some said he used to be a professional cage fighter before taking over for his father, some said his father wasn't even his actual dad.

Never did Diesel care, because Jasper "The Iron Lion" Lynn was only ever interested in making an example of snitches who wound up dead on the doorsteps of the authorities, and if he kept his head down he wouldn't have to worry.

"I can't do that," Diesel stammered, "I'll be killed, I'm not equipped for this kind of stuff!" He had spied for them before--even killed for them before--but this was something completely out of his normal territory.

"Does that mean I should just end your life now, Blevins?" he had been asked in return. "Because if you don't do this for me, you have no reason being alive, got it?"

So he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Diesel forced himself to nod and agree.

"Good man."

Which led to now. The Iron Syndicate were having one of their monthly celebrations at a casino downtown, the very same casino that acted as the headquarters for their less than legal exploits. Diesel forced himself to put on a tough guy persona, dressed in one of the plain black suits that matched the rest of the other members of The Iron Syndicate.

"Name?" the bouncer asked, not looking up from her phone.

"Glen Lloyd," Diesel lied. He had managed to knock out one of The Iron Syndicate members and retrieve their ID card. Of course he didn't want to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary.

She looked up, gave him an unimpressed once-over, and shrugged before waving him through. As he stepped through, loud bass-heavy music nearly knocked Diesel off balance.

For how illegal the casino was, it sure was bustling with activity.

There was an upper balcony overlooking a large stage, where some dancers were currently doing a performance.

Around the first floor were various gambling tables, crowded full of players betting away their hard-earned cash. At the very center of the casino was a bar lit by neon red light fixtures.

If Diesel had more time, he would probably explore every aspect of the building, but he could get caught if he wandered around too much.

His contact hadn't told him what exactly he needed dirt on, so the best Diesel could do was take pictures of Jasper and his closest members and hope they found it useful for something.

He grabbed a small cocktail glass from one of the waiters walking around and tried to blend into the crowd, downing it to settle his nerves.

Eventually, after wandering for about ten minutes, Diesel spotted Jasper talking to another woman with black hair. She wore red lipstick, her hair in a ponytail, and black round sunglasses on top of her head.

They were both tall, but Jasper especially. He looked to be at least six feet, probably even taller. It made him somehow even more nervous.

But still, Diesel fiddled with his smartphone, making sure flash wasn't on. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and snapped a single photo before pocketing his phone.

He was starting to wonder if this was just a suicide-mission he was set on.

Would he be killed if he came back empty-handed? Surely not, right? They kept him alive this long, even though he had made several mistakes over the past three years that almost landed him dead in an alleyway.

Then again, The Iron Syndicate was notorious for killing people without remorse. Either way he'd probably end up dead in a ditch.

"Well, aren't you cute."

Diesel almost jumped when he noticed Jasper and the woman both approaching him. He felt blood rush to his cheeks when he realized what Jasper had said. His voice was so deep, it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Oh, he's shy," the woman grinned, "it's okay, we come in peace. Are you new here?"

"I am, actually," he nodded sheepishly. It seemed like they suspected nothing, thankfully. "Is it that obvious?" he forced a chuckle.

Jasper was gazing at him so intently, Diesel felt like melting under his stare alone, and not in the good way. He wondered why someone so powerful would have a moment wasted on him. Maybe they were suspicious?

"It isn't," Jasper assured, "Katherine is just a lot better at memorizing faces than I am." His grin was smug, his gaze lidded. For whatever reason, Diesel could sense that Jasper didn't fully trust him. But still, the conversation seemed to be going somewhere. "Though I'd recognize a face like yours."

Diesel didn't know if that was flirting or a threat. "Thank you, sir... I rarely go to parties, just figured I'd try to make some friends for once."

"Well, consider us friends already, darling!" Katherine said cheerily. "Katherine Fritz. I'm the underboss."

Oh fuck. Now Diesel really regretted getting himself roped into this entire situation.

Jasper chuckled quietly. "It's alright, no need to be anxious. Let me buy you a drink."

Without waiting for Diesel to answer, Jasper placed a gentle hand on his back, guiding him towards the bar. It was surprisingly warm--Diesel could feel the heat through his clothes.

The smaller man let him guide them over, his brain nearly short-circuiting from everything going on.

The bartender turned to face them both, pushing a strand of black hair out of his face. He smiled as soon as he recognized Jasper. "Your usual?" he asked.

"The usual for me, yeah." Jasper leaned against the counter, gaze now on Diesel. "We're celebrating our new member tonight. How about...a Moscow mule for you? You strike me as a Moscow mule type of guy."

"Sure," Diesel stammered. Why was the head boss of The Iron Syndicate bothering to offer him a drink, let alone talk to him? He felt everyone's eyes on him. This must have been a common occurrence; the dangerous Jasper Lynn treating one of the others to a drink.

The bartender immediately began mixing together their drinks, seemingly distracted by the music.

"So..." Diesel muttered, "are you two dating?"

Jasper and Katherine both laughed.

"That's the complete opposite," Katherine assured him. "We hate each other. In a friendly way."

Diesel didn't comment how that made no sense to him.

"We've known each other since we were teenagers. Sometimes it might seem that way to strangers," Jasper said. His gaze was focused on Diesel, so intense that Diesel averted his eyes. "Why? You interested?"

What was even the correct answer to that? Jasper looked like he was having a great time watching him get flustered.

That cool gaze, and knowing smile. Something inside him hoped that this was actually flirting and not a test.

At least if it was actual flirting, the chances of him getting out of this alive were higher, surely. Diesel stuttered so much he could barely understand himself.

Katherine cooed. "Look at that. You broke the poor thing."

"Apologies," Jasper grinned, "I was teasing, obviously."

"Obviously," Diesel repeated weakly, cheeks flushed.

Their drinks were finally ready, and Diesel picked it up carefully. The glass was colder than he anticipated. He took a cautious sip of it, letting the liquid roll down his tongue. It tasted bitter, but he forced himself to enjoy it. If he didn't, he was scared either of them would notice.

"You haven't given us your name yet, sweet thing," Jasper pointed out, picking up his own glass of scotch.

Was he being interrogated?

"Oh, yeah. My name's Diesel," he said, realizing he just gave his real name. How was he still even alive at this point? "Um, Diesel Thomas." At least he could give himself a fake last name.

Jasper held out his hand for Diesel to shake, which the shorter man did timidly. He just hoped his palms weren't clammy, though Jasper was wearing gloves, so he doubted he'd notice.

"What brought you to The Iron Syndicate, Diesel Thomas?" Jasper asked smoothly. "No offense, but you stick out here like a sore thumb." He took another sip of his drink. Diesel almost panicked, searching for some kind of excuse.

"Bad decisions," he said eventually. "You know the whole shebang, the stereotypical sob story. Owe money, get in trouble with gangs, et cetera." Not entirely untrue.

Jasper nodded, humming under his breath in thought. Diesel's brain was practically screaming at him to find an escape route and fast.

Yet something made him want to stay. He hadn't ever seen Jasper face-to-face before. His reputation always preceded him, always painted him as such a violent, intimidating presence, and Diesel never would have guessed otherwise. Yet he seemed oddly relaxed and even playful with his behavior.

Though maybe he shouldn't assume things so quickly. Diesel had only talked to the guy for barely ten minutes.

And the way Jasper looked at him was... peculiar. He could have sworn there was a certain hunger to his gaze, but he probably was projecting. If he weren't a mob boss, Diesel would think he's just trying to get in his pants.

Both him and Katherine, honestly.

"How about some poker after some drinks?" Jasper casually asked.

"Oh, uh... I don't know how to play poker." Diesel finished his Moscow mule, silently placing it back down.

The other man chuckled. "How about pool?"

Katherine huffed. "Sure you wanna play pool again, Jaspie? I can't count how many times you've lost already today."

"That's why I'm challenging Diesel, actually," Jasper retorted, but his tone was still playful. He turned back to the younger man. "Don't ever accept her when she challenges you to a game. She cheats at everything."

"I'm just good at manipulating numbers, that's all," Katherine argued innocently, playing with her fingernails. Her red lipstick matched her nails nicely, Diesel couldn't help but notice. She was certainly stunning and charismatic, if a bit intimidating. Then again, Jasper was too, just in a different way. "If I just happen to have strong skills, should that be my fault?"

"Yeah, but you still cheat," Jasper chuckled. His gold eyes then met with Diesel's blue ones. "What do you say, honey?"

Playing pool wouldn't hurt, right? He didn't really know any of the rules of poker. So he simply shrugged. "Okay."

Immediately, Jasper took their cups back, giving them to the bartender behind the counter. Jasper gave him a wink. They moved to the pool table area of the casino.

"I assume you're not in the mood for old-fashioned gambling," Jasper chuckled, handing Diesel a cue. "So how about this? If you win, you get to make me do whatever you want. And if I win, I get to make you do whatever I want. How does that sound?" He twirled his pool cue between his fingers expertly.

The 'whatever you want' sounded promising in his head, but also terrifying. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was so vague.

Katherine whistled. "Better take him up on that. He usually doesn't make those kinds of offers." She leaned forward, smiling at Diesel. "It'll probably just involve some sex and booze. Jasper isn't that creative. Simple-minded guy, easy to please."

Diesel choked on nothing.

Jasper glared at Katherine over his shoulder. "Thanks, Kat."

"Anytime."

"Uh..." Diesel's brain tried to compute everything happening right now. "That sounds good," he mumbled lamely. If he declined, would that raise suspicion? But if he accepted, would that also be bad? Well, even if that were the case, it was too late now. "Yeah, okay. Yeah."

Jasper flashed him that charming smile, and suddenly Diesel wanted to smack himself for agreeing.

He chalked his cue awkwardly as Jasper started racking the balls on the opposite side of the table. He then picked up a coin from a jar on the wall. "Heads or tails?" Jasper asked casually.

"Tails," Diesel muttered.

Jasper flipped the coin in the air before catching it in one palm. He peeked at it, that grin spreading even wider. "Well, looks like I'll be shooting first, pretty boy." He rolled up his sleeves to show off his tattooed arms.

Those pet names were gonna kill him, if Jasper didn't himself.

The taller man took his first shot. With a loud bang, all the balls bounced apart, the first ball falling into one of the pockets.

Jasper leaned down against the edge of the table again, taking another shot, but missed this time. When he glanced up at Diesel, it was with that same hungry expression from before.

The younger man fiddled with his cue before walking around to the opposite side of the table.

He hit a couple balls, though none landed into any of the holes. It was enough of an excuse for Jasper to get closer to Diesel's personal space than was necessary. Their arms brushed together every so often, Jasper's lips always close enough to Diesel's ear for him to hear the soft breathing emitting from the taller man.

At one point, Jasper pressed against him from behind, pinning him to the table.

"Let me show you how it works, darling," he whispered, guiding Diesel's hand with his own. Jasper then gently helped Diesel shoot properly, and this time the ball finally went into the hole. The mob boss pulled away after that, as if he hadn't done anything strange. "See what happens when you apply just the right amount of pressure?"

"You're quite handsy," Katherine teased, pulling Jasper away from Diesel. "Can you calm down with that? Poor Diesel's going to combust if you keep that up. Save it for the bedroom."

"He loves it," Jasper rolled his eyes.

They both continued playing until Jasper managed to get most of the striped balls into the pockets, winning the game. Diesel groaned internally.

"Huh, it's been awhile since I've actually won," Jasper commented, hanging up his pool cue back onto its rack on the wall. "Almost makes me want to play pool more often." He turned back around to face Diesel. "Guess that means I won our little wager. You remember the terms, don't you?"

"Yeah..." Diesel gulped audibly. This felt worse than having a gun pointed at him, somehow. He didn't like how Jasper was grinning like the cat who ate the canary, but he tried to ignore it anyway. "So...you wanna do what exactly..?"

Jasper pretended to contemplate it. "Hmm... what do you think, Kat?"

Katherine smirked. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'd like to see him to be honest about why he's really here." She folded her arms across her chest. "Isn't that right, Blevins?"

Diesel froze, color draining from his face instantly. There was no way. Absolutely no fucking way...

He glanced around, noticing that everyone seemed to stop talking among themselves and instead began approaching them all slowly. He noticed guns strapped to some of their hips.

Katherine and Jasper both were leaning against the table, not looking bothered at all. Jasper was sipping a drink, looking rather amused by something, while Katherine only stood beside him with the same smirk as before.

"How?" Diesel clutched his own chest. His heart felt like it was ready to explode out of his chest, going a million miles a minute.

Jasper chuckled. "Oh sweet, naive, silly Diesel Blevins," he purred. "You think I'm oblivious to anything that happens inside these walls? Really? It's my casino, my club. And everyone here is loyal to me. Your disguise wasn't clever."

"But...if you knew, why didn't you kill me right then and there?" Diesel frowned. That part truly confused him the most. If Jasper had figured out why he was here right when they first met, why play along with his bullshit?

"If I did, it'd ruin the fun," Jasper pouted mockingly. "Where's the fun in murdering someone right after meeting them? Where's the thrill?" He laughed again, much darker this time. "Plus, seeing the look on your face right now is worth it all. You're too easy to toy with, y'know? It's so rare I get people like you who are just too gullible, too curious. It's adorable."

Diesel blinked away tears. How pathetic was he, crying just because he fucked up again?

He wanted to curse at himself for ever accepting his offer, though if he had declined it, surely he still would have been found out anyway.

"What's gonna happen to me?" he choked out.

Jasper put his glass aside. He sauntered to the shorter man, cupping Diesel's chin gently. The poor thing didn't even protest the action.

"It depends," Jasper cooed, stroking his thumb along Diesel's cheekbone. "I could torture you for info. Kill you. Sell you." His tone suggested he didn't actually plan on doing any of those things. Diesel whimpered. "I'd prefer if you told me on your own who you work for. No need to make this complicated. After all, I like you quite a lot. You intrigue me. Plus, it'd be a shame to ruin such a beautiful face, no?"

"I...I can't tell you that!" Diesel stuttered. If he snitched, they would definitely end his life. Who cares if he was useless to them now, they wanted revenge. "I know how it works, they'd kill me for sure..."

With a laugh, Katherine replied, "Well, its either they do or we do."

Jasper laughed along with her. "Don't feel like you need to be loyal to whoever sent you here. I mean, they definitely sent you here on a death mission, anyway. You're clearly inexperienced with this type of stuff, they must've realized that if they knew anything about you, sweetheart. It's obvious you aren't used to being here, being with people like me. I could read you like an open book, honestly."

"...Velvet Fangs," Diesel finally muttered. "...I-I owed them debt because of my father. I dunno anything else... I-I can't tell you more. Please don't hurt me..."

"It's been awhile since we dealt with VF, huh?" Katherine frowned. "The last time was probably six years ago."

"Six years ago..." Jasper repeated. He looked up in thought, trying to remember back. Suddenly realization dawned on him, and his eyes lit up. "Ah, you're right! Hm. They used to be competent, what happened to them? Sending a civilian like you to retrieve information for them... Now that's sad, even for them. Their good recruits must've quit."

He seemed to be lost in thought. Diesel swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "Can I go now...? I swear I won't tell anyone—"

"Nah-ah-ah, Diesel," Jasper interrupted. "We're not done yet. In fact, we've only just begun. Like I said earlier, I like you a lot." His grip on Diesel's jaw tightened briefly before letting go entirely.

He reached into his blazer pocket, revealing his pistol. The silver accents on the handgun gleamed under the casino's red light fixtures, making it appear like it was almost glowing in the darkness of the room. Jasper traced the barrel of the gun under Diesel's chin, forcing the smaller man to meet his gaze. Fear was clear in those blue orbs of his.

Jasper clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Give me your phone," he demanded.

Diesel only nodded in response, reaching into his pant's pocket and shakily pulling out his smartphone. Jasper grabbed it, tossing it to one of the guys behind him without looking.

"Transfer the files and then destroy it," Jasper ordered. The man gave him a brief salute and nod before pocketing Diesel's phone and walking away. "Hey," Jasper murmured softly, lifting up Diesel's chin with a single finger. "You still with me?" Diesel didn't need to respond, the fear in his eyes said everything. "I have an idea. Heads or tails?"

Jasper sure liked gambling. "H-heads...?"

He smiled and then flipped a quarter high into the air above him, grabbing it as it fell back down. When he checked, his grin widened.

"Lucky you. You're coming home with me." He yanked Diesel up by the arm. "But try anything, and I won't hesitate to fill you with lead, got it?" Diesel couldn't nod fast enough. "Good, I'm glad we're on the same page." He led him to a sleek black limousine that drove up to the entrance. Pushing him into the car, Jasper then followed, closing the door shut.

Diesel squeezed his eyes shut the entire time and chose to pretend none of this was real.

[cheatingexploitation]

would love to hear abt your made up strident crisis lore! especially anything pertaining to hellbreaker

not the hugest stridenthead any more but i will say what i have because why not.. lets a go

REMEMBER! IF YOU MIDDLE CLICK, YOU CAN SCROLL REALLY FAST!

in other words im not putting a read more thing on this post cz i dont feel like it... however! if theres an issue with this i havent anticipated lmk and ill edit the post. i might be trying to be funny in a slightly obnoxious manner but i do not mean to create a real nuisance...

so while witnessing the mod for. technically the second time but the first time after figuring out what was going on with those daves and bambis i was a bit surprised to see that the mod where the wiki says "it actually has a story" had 0 dialogue or anything so i was like. ok. ill make one up in my head

the gist: classic dave bambi lore Except bambi is not a nice wisdom god he's actually a mean war god. hence why everything surrounding him is much more.. aggressive

when pissed off he doesnt just throw his stupid phone at you. his body contorts and shakes and catches fire like some freak of nature. scary

here i have decided bambi is just a vessel of sorts to contain a dormant god and boyfriend hopping into his farm specifically to piss him off somehow wakes up the god Just a little (probably not entirely though? not enough trolling)

lord bambi being a fucked up tyrant here is also inspired by the title of the song "thearchy", which is a word meaning like. you know a monarchy. imagine that but with a god. rule of god. badass word actually. also i think it's funny to interpret mods where expunged is probably supposed to be a god as them like... not being one (im evil)

i did make some kind of design for him based on that opposition form... never really finalized it (i think it looks Too modern blah blah) but here

anyway expunged is actually not the worst guy ever they're just taking bambis form because (???i forgot) anyway they figure out that Hey actually lord bambi was pretty cringe (horrific and bad and scary) and so phonophobia is them having a Strident Crisis about this ROLL CREDITS THEY SAID THE NAME OF THE MOD

also! heebie. hellbreakie. minesweeper. probably the reason you sent this ask it's ok shes cute and fun i get it. i thought it would be funny if shes madden here so she's madden here. specifically she was an executioner for lord bambi because even though he could do it himself it would be worse if he made someone else do it and for some reason this is his goal i forgot why sorry but this is actually where the name hellbreaker comes from here. that's her title... the hellbreaker. after lord bambi dips no one likes her so for one reason or another (i don't think i decided?) she goes to the void and goes funny 3d mode and Actually i think i made her and expungie friends because that would give expunged a reason to freak out during phonophobia because wow how could i be so mean to this guy i respect. or something. yeah

heres stident maddis Which i have certainly put here before probably but for the big post. yeah

dave also had some part in this whole thing, mainly for the sake of justifying Why the Expunged Is Different, but also i have 0 recollection of what that part Was exactly. i just remember saying something like "wouldnt it be funny if strident crisis dave was emo" (which i said meaning he wears like a darker blue shirt as i think it's very funny when people call any dark clothing emo though sometimes i worry i am only contributing to the watering down of the complexities of alt fashion ? sorry)

anyway i also made designs for strident crisis beef nd geef because i thought it would be cool to base them on the colours they get from hellbreaker's shader. fits the tone better i think !

the plot here would probably be less of a mess if i like, cleaned it up and made something out of it, but also i don't really want to soooo for now all you get is this jumble of words. still think the mod is pretty cool even though i just prefer not to interact with it Too much for Reasons I Forgot but are most likely not important to the general public so don't worry about it

maybe i should do the same thing for spamtrap since i dont plan on finishing it even though spamfriend is one of my favourite children? find out next time on cheat's blog i suppose...

[ali-annals]

tomorrow's a flower

Pairing: Cassinette

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff. All the fluff. @flufftober 2023 Day 9: ___ at First Sight. Random Word Generator chose 'Employee'.

WC: 1k exactly

Maribat Taglist (Open): [I'm so sorry I keep forgetting people like my works and join the list and i forget to tag everyone😭] @axis-for-the-dead @jennifer-rose123 @questioning-blob-of-fog @sarcasticbambi

A/N: Thanks to @axis-for-the-dead for betaing and hyping me up!! For @ramos123. Thanks for defending my wifey and me<3 (even if you did laugh at us). Edit: after scrolling through a million messages apparently I mixed my dates up😔 Happy day of birth anyways ig.

I did too much research into late-19th Century French fashion. Ignore any ballet mistakes I made; I forgot everything I once knew. Title inspo here.

Ao3 Masterlist

The sun was shining, the air was crisp with the promise of fall, and the smell of freshly baked goods wafted around the girl casually strolling the aisles of vendors at the autumn market.

Buckets of wildflowers added pops of colour, various species of gourds provided visual texture, and the sound of leaves crunching underneath her light stride put a spring in her step.

Hefting the bag on her back, loaded with goods from the many vendors she’d stopped by, she paused to watch a demonstration by a young woman around her age, who was explaining fashion in the late 19th century. 

Several replica pieces hung on racks in her booth, and a couple women were trying on jackets and bonnets eagerly. 

“Excuse me!” The young woman waved at her, and she walked over, curious. “What’s your name?”

“Cass.”

“Cass, it’s nice to meet you!” the woman smiled warmly, her cheeks a pretty blush from the cool breeze. “I’m Marinette. Would you be my model for the bicycle suit, to demonstrate how well it allowed for mobility?”

Cass nodded. “I do ballet.”

The girl grasped her hands dramatically, eyes practically hearts. “You do?! This is perfect! Thank you so much, Cass! My usual model is out sick today,” she mourned, gathering a pile of clothing and heading towards a small change stall. “Let me know if you need any help. The styles were a lot simpler as the fashions changed and drew inspiration from menswear, but they can still be confusing to someone who doesn’t typically wear antique clothing.” Cass nodded and entered the change stall, leaving her backpack behind Marinette's sales counter before she began to don the old-fashioned garments.

She emerged and looked questioningly at Marinette, who led her to her sales pitch circle.

“Here’s today’s model, Cass, who will show you how flexible the clothing really was!”

Cass started off with some basic stretches, warming up before she attempted grander moves. She preferred her proper ballet attire or looser clothing, but this wasn’t bad. The loose fabric was breathable and not very restrictive, so once she was sufficiently warmed up, she began some simple jumps and movements. 

Marinette continued her spiel as Cass performed one of her favourite dances, the solo from Act I of Don Quixote. It was short, but had jumps, twirls, and kicks, which provided a good range of movements to show off the clothing. 

Cass finished with a professional bow, looking at Marinette during the applause to see if she had liked it. She had a wide-eyed, smiling look on her face, so Cass guessed she had done a good job of promoting Marinette’s work.

Once the demonstration was over, Cass hung around examining the wares of Marinette’s booth. Some half-finished pieces were on display, Marinette showing the process of making historically accurate and comfortable clothing. 

A gorgeously embroidered blouse with many small wildflowers and birds and ladybugs caught her eye, and Cass held it up to herself. Once it was completed, it would be the right size to fit her, she thought.

Marinette came over, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you so much for your demonstration, Cass! I just made at least three sales because of that. Oh, I love this blouse. The embroidery is a pain, but it’s so worth it. The prettiest things always take the longest and hardest to become that way, don’t they,” she mused. “Did anything else catch your eye, that I can get for you?”

Cass shook her head. “Just this.”

“If you give me your contact information, I can let you know when this is completed, if you’re still interested in it. I’ll give it to you for free after the help you’ve been today,” Marinette offered.

Cass pulled out a business card from the depths of her retrieved bag and handed it to Marinette. 

“Will you need me to come in and try it to make sure it fits properly?”

Marinette smiled at her. “I might.”

~~~

Marinette set her pincushion down. “Alright, it’s all done, except for the finishing embroidery.”

“Can I add a flower?” Cass asked.

“Sure, what one do you want?”

“I need to research it first. Can I tell you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Marinette agreed readily. 

~~~

“Can I add another one?”

“Sure. Do you need to do more research?”

“Yes. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow works! Oh, do you want your reference flower back?”

“You keep it.”

“Thanks, Cass. See you tomorrow.”

~~~

“I’m going to miss embroidering these flowers,” Marinette mused as she clipped the loose threads off her latest addition to the blouse’s garden.

“I’ll buy you more,” offered Cass. “You can embroider more of my clothes if you want.”

Marinette laughed. “Thanks, Cass. I appreciate it. Want to add another blossom?”

“Of course. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

~~~

“Another?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow, then.” ~~~

“Can I-”

“Yes!”

“Tomorrow.”

~~~

“One more?”

“Always,” Marinette grinned. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

~~~

“Hi, Cass! Be with you in a sec!” Marinette called from the depths of her shop the next afternoon, at two on the dot, as usual.

“Okay.”

Cass looked down at the stalk of tiny white flowers in her hand.

Marinette emerged, brushing the curtain to the back room out of her face (the one she always walked into), a smile on her lips.

Cass held out the flower for Marinette’s approval.

“Ooh, a mignonette! This would be pretty by the camellias on the lower right hem,” Marinette mused, pulling out the form with Cass’s blouse on it.

“So, any flower requests for tomorrow?” Marinette asked at the end of their session.

“No.”

Marinette’s smile dimmed a bit. “Oh, okay. Finally done with your garden? It’s actually been fun doing all this embroidery,” she looked at her handiwork sternly.

“Come with me to buy flowers tomorrow,” Cass asked.

“What?”

“I’ll buy you flowers, but you don’t have to embroider them anymore.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Are you asking me out?”

Cass nodded firmly. “Go on a date with me. Please?” She pulled out the puppy eyes Damian had perfected.

Marinette grinned widely. “Yes! Of course!”

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

_________________________________________

Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls.��

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[hoboal87]

The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j​ for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

���I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

“Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something. 

Buy Me a Coffee?

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

[canarypoint]

Highways and Heart Eyes

A/N: hi it’s been a while...(?) unrelated but the brie larson thing that’s going around is stuck in my head because it’s like 60% of my fyp on tiktok rn. this is inspired/based on a story my mom told me last week lmao

A/N #2 (edit): so i’m an idiot and i forgot to give it a title but if anyone noticed that before i edited it, no you didn’t.

Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning(s): none? my really bad attempts at writing flirting?

Steve can say with one-hundred percent certainty that I-95 is simultaneously one of the greatest and worst things built in his time in the ice. The potholes are concerning enough, add to it the barely-bright-enough street lights and the exhausted, largely untrustworthy drivers racing their way home at almost midnight?

He almost prefers fighting Nazis or the Chitauri.

The drive itself has been boring thus far, but he thinks it might be taking a weird turn when he finds a car sitting on the side of the highway, its driver leaning against the hood flailing their unoccupied arm around while the other holds something up to the side of their face.

Steve puts his blinker on, pulling his Stark-issued (as Tony loves to call it) car up to the parked vehicle.

“Everything alright?” he asks, wincing when the person flinches at his voice. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m fine, just waiting for a friend,” the person answers automatically. They slide their phone into their pocket with a sigh, finally turning to Steve. “Oh my god, you’re Captain America.”

“Please, Steve is fine,” he answers with a soft laugh, trailing off in a silent question.

“Y/N,” they offer in return, their hands fidgeting.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” he asks one more time; something tells him their earlier remark was a way to ward off creeps, not an actual response to his question.

Y/N looks at the passing traffic for a moment, their eyes squinting in contemplation. “Yeah, actually,” they say through a sigh. “My car’s out of gas and my phone just died…”

“Ah, I see. Let me call a friend of mine and we’ll have you back on the road in no time,” he offers with a smile, already slipping his phone out of his own pocket.

“Thanks, Captain,” they say with a mischievous smile as Steve laughs again.

“Steve,” he jokingly reprimands as he dials the first name he sees on speed dial. “Hey, Nat, I need a favor…”

•••

Steven Grant Rogers is an idiot. A brilliant soldier, a great man, an amazing friend, a fantastic leader (usually), but he is still an idiot out of work and off the field.

He called Natasha at eleven-forty-three at night to ask her to drive all the way to the outskirts of Cecil County, Maryland from New York City, just so she could sit with a complete stranger while he drives to the nearest gas station (it’s forty minutes away, because of course there’s major traffic tonight). If she’d known he just needed to refill someone’s tank, she would’ve stopped and gotten it on the way over.

Though, the person in not-so-perilous peril is pretty cute.

“I’m so sorry,” you ramble for the millionth time. Natasha just smiles and waves you off.

“It’s fine, I promise.” She means it, just as much as the first time she said it. It’s the thirty-seventh, not that she’s counting.

“Yeah, but, you’re an Avenger and like- you probably need as much sleep as you can get and now you’re wasting your night basically babysitting me and-”

“Hey, hey, breathe. I promise this isn’t a waste of my time. It’s not every day I get to spend time with a beautiful person,” Natasha interrupts. Honestly, how you manage to say so much in so little time is baffling.

You look down, and she can just barely make out the small smile on your face. You don’t say anything after that, and Natasha finds your suddenly-flustered state adorable.

“So,” she says. Why not start a conversation? Best way to figure out if you’re secretly a threat or not, it is her job after all. Not because in the fifteen minutes she’s known you, you’ve given her a sense of peace she’s never experienced before, she tells herself. “What were you doing out so late?”

“Oh, I was visiting a friend for the weekend, I’m on my way back to New York now,” you answer. It’s interesting how easily you’ve let your guard down around her.

Natasha hums, nodding her head as you continue to ramble about your trip. She finds herself smiling the more you talk, and eventually she asks you how you and your friend met.

“We met at NYU, she was my girlfriend’s roommate our first two years. Then we broke up and she became my roommate.”

Natasha’s eyebrow raises at the first ‘girlfriend,’ but she frowns when your smile falters. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. It was what, four years ago?” you answer, your smile already back. “I think she’s on the west coast now, probably living out her dream as some old, rich, white guy’s newest plaything.”

Natasha can’t help but laugh, you sound so optimistic and innocent and yet the insult is anything but.

“And what about you? Living out your dream in the Big Apple?” Natasha asks.

You sigh almost dreamily, “Yeah, I work at a boxing club for kids in Queens. We teach them self-defense and give them a place to stay if they need it. Spider-Man actually stopped by a few weeks ago, said he was ‘in the neighborhood.’”

“That’s amazing,” Natasha says honestly.

“It was, he let some of the older kids try out his web shooters.” The redhead holds back a laugh at your obliviousness.

“I meant your job,” she corrects gently.

“Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah, I’m just trying to do my part to help people,” you reply softly. “I didn’t have a lot growing up, and my parents were never really around. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to them, too.”

“You are… something else, Y/N…” she trails off, hoping you catch on.

“Y/L/N,” you supply.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“You too, Natasha Romanoff.” The two of you laugh as Steve’s car finally approaches.

•••

Three days go by and you can’t get your conversation with the Black Widow out of your head. Looking back, you realize she was definitely flirting with you, and you were just too exhausted and oblivious to notice. It’s embarrassing to say the least, but you doubt she even remembers. It was probably just her way of filling the silence.

You internally sigh, refocusing on your surroundings.

“Jab,” you instruct, holding your target pads-clad hands up. Henry, one of the newer kids at the gym, throws his left arm forward, his feet sliding as his glove makes contact with yours. “Stand your ground, plant both feet down firmly.”

The kid corrects his stance, smiling when you nod your head in approval.

“Jab, again.” He hits the target, and you smile again when he doesn’t slip. “Nice job, buddy. Take five. And get some water!” you yell after him as he runs to the bench.

You take your gloves off as the front door’s bells chime, turning to greet the guest. “Hey, welcome, I’ll be right… with you…” you trail off as you make eye contact with a certain redhead.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Y/N Y/L/N, would you?” she asks playfully. She leans on the front counter as you jog your way over.

“Maybe, anything they might be able to help you with?”

Natasha watches as a kid walks up to you, asking for help with her boxing wraps. “Well,” she watches the way you simultaneously help the little girl and watch Natasha with ease. “I was told there’s this awesome place that helps kids learn how to fight, and I thought I’d stop by and show ‘em how an Avenger does it. Plus, I heard Spider-Man was here once, and I think having the Black Widow come by would be a much cooler story to tell.”

You laugh, ruffling the kid’s hair before whispering to her that she’s good before turning back to the Avenger. “I- Thank you,” you say softly. “You didn’t have to do tha-”

“No, but I wanted to. Plus, I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee after your shift?” she says as you lead her towards a locker in the back.

“You can put your stuff in here, they’re employee lockers, so no one’ll mess with them,” you tell her when she glances around the room. “And yeah, I’d like that.”

Natasha beams, and it’s immediately ingrained into your mind forever. Maybe getting stuck on a busy highway wasn’t too bad after all.

[organabanana]

What spring does to cherry trees || Supercorp

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor

Additional Tags: mostly fluff, with some porn for flair, pre-canon, but also, post-canon, tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees. What does that even mean? It's taking a simple I love you and putting lead-lined glasses on it to keep its power contained. No offense, Mr. Neruda, but that's just weak. Kara doesn't like poetry. Until she does.

Notes: Written for a very patient anon who prompted me with “Seeing the cherry blossoms in Washington DC” but I got sidetracked by Neruda and my favorite of his poems and it turned into This.  It's poem number fourteen, found in "Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada" (Twenty love poems and a song of despair) by Pablo Neruda, which you can read here (Spanish) or here (English). I mostly translated the lines I needed myself, so I can't guarantee they'll match the official translation (I'm also not sure there is such a thing as an official translation, so there's that). With special thanks to the most patient anon in history for the prompt, to @lavenderrry for praising my vibes, and to @emiltons for the gorgeous graphic.

[ao3 link]

The first time Kara encounters Neruda's poetry she's nineteen and bored. In her defense, she thought taking a poetry class would make her feel sophisticated and cultured, but all she feels is annoyed at the insistence of using language to obscure your message rather than share it.

And yes, yes, she gets it. It all sounds very pretty and evocative. It's just Kara has been hiding her true self in plain sight for the last six years, and she can't understand why anyone would willingly and needlessly do that to themselves. To their feelings. She may never have been in love, but Kara is pretty sure if she ever is -- if her heart ever feels full to the brim with the kind of big feelings her professor keeps making them read in metaphors and symbolism -- she'll want to make them clear as day.

I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees.

What does that even mean?

It's taking a simple I love you and putting lead-lined glasses on it to keep its power contained.

No offense, Mr. Neruda, but that's just weak.

***

Kara doesn't take any more poetry classes, and she doesn't think of Neruda (or any other poet, for that matter) for years. She has so many other things to think about. She moves to National City and starts working for Ms. Grant. She grows into herself, she thinks. She becomes Supergirl and feels more like herself than she has since her pod left Krypton. She dates, a little bit. Dips her toe in the dating pool, if you will. She meets Lena Luthor.

And that's the second time she runs into Neruda. Right there on a shelf in Lena's living room, on a book that looks well loved and well read, spine full of small cracks and lines from being opened over and over again. Kara has always thought you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their shelves.  

"Pablo Neruda," Kara says, one finger tracing a line down the spine of the book like she's trying to read something in the pattern of the cracks, "I didn't know you liked poetry."

"I don't dislike it." Lena's heels click-clack on the hardwood floor before she sets the bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table and sits on the couch. "Have you made up your mind on what we're going to watch?"

Kara can hear the faint electrical hum of the TV being turned on, but she's a bit too distracted by the book to focus on deciding whether tonight is a night for a romantic comedy or an epic drama. She couldn't say exactly why this book feels important. It just does. Maybe it's because Lena keeps so much of herself hidden somewhere not even Kara's X-Ray vision can reach, and finding little clues about her thoughts and feelings feels a lot like she's struck gold.

Yeah. Maybe that's why.

Her fascination with the book only grows when she pulls it out of the shelf only to find the title written in Spanish. "Veinte poemas de amor--"

"And a song of despair," Lena finishes in English. "Atonement? I've heard good things about it."

"No way. I said I could be persuaded to watch a tear jerker, but I did not sign up for actual depression." Kara brings the book along when she walks over to sit down next to Lena. She's so focused on the book, still, that she miscalculates her landing just by an inch or so and her thigh bumps against Lena's as she settles on the couch. But Lena doesn't move away, and Kara figures there's no reason why she should. They're friends, after all. Close friends. Figuratively and now very, very literally close.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Kara speaks again, breaking the silence before it solidifies into something potentially awkward.

"I don't. It's a bilingual edition. Can we please pick a movie?"

Kara would love to do exactly what Lena wants. In fact, giving Lena everything she wants has become sort of a constant in this fledgling friendship between them. It just feels nice, you know? Giving her what she wants and making her smile. But this book. It's all so very distracting.

"So. Do you prefer the twenty love poems, or the song of despair?"

Lena rolls her eyes, but she can't quite hide the amused smirk behind the glass when she sips her wine, so Kara knows she's not nearly as annoyed as she's trying to appear.

"What is it with you and Neruda? I didn't know you were a poetry fan."

Kara scoffs. "I'm not." She still remembers the feeling of relief washing over her when she saw her passing grade on that stupid course and realized she'd never have to read another line of poetry in her life. "I don't even like poetry. I'm just curious, that's all."

Lena cocks one eyebrow at her. Studies her, in a way that makes color rise to Kara's cheeks and has her wondering if Lena can see through people, too. 

"Anyway!" Kara shakes her head like she's hoping that'll make the blush fade. "The love poems, or the song of despair?"

"The poems," Lena finally concedes, "and I'm very surprised you don't like poetry. You seem the type."

"What?" Kara is already thumbing through the edge of the book, trying to find the place where it'll open naturally and hopefully show her which of the twenty love poems Lena happens to like the most. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, you have a big heart. Big feelings." Lena looks into Kara's eyes like she's trying to read all those feelings right there in shades of blue, and Kara finds herself looking down at the book just in case. Just in case all those big feelings she can't even name herself are there for Lena to read. "Seems like a recipe for liking poetry."

Kara shakes her head and pushes her glasses up, just in case. Just in case the lead in them can shield more than just her powers. And just as she's about to argue -- just as she's about to tell Lena precisely why she doesn't like poetry -- she opens her book and her gaze lands on a familiar phrase.

"Quiero hacer contigo," she reads out loud from the page on the left, and her fingertip is already finding the next verse on the right when Lena finishes for her.

"What spring does to cherry trees."

If Kara was just Kara Danvers, she'd have missed it all. She'd have just heard her best friend speak a line from a poem that -- much like most poems -- means very little to her. But she's not just Kara Danvers. So Kara hears the way Lena's heart beats just a little bit faster. The way her breath catches just so. The exact fraction of a tone her voice drops when she speaks. The faintest hint of a sigh.

"See? This is why I don't like poetry." Kara chances a look into green eyes, and she's so very grateful Lena has no superhearing to tip her off to the way Kara's heart seems to trip all over itself.  "'I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees'. What does that mean?"

Kara swears -- she swears -- she catches Lena's pupils dilating just enough to make her think she knows exactly what the poem means. 

"It's not about what it means, Kara. It's about what it makes you feel." Lena lets out a soft chuckle, something light and airy like this is just a silly little conversation with no weight to it at all. Like she can't feel the way the air itself seems to have changed into something new. 

"Is it your favorite line?" Kara pretends she can't hear the way her own voice has changed, too.

Lena shakes her head. "No. My favorite is actually--"

Kara hears the DEO alarm before Lena's fingertip can make contact with the paper, and she almost considers ignoring it. She almost considers letting whatever danger is looming over this whole city have at it because finding out what's Lena's favorite line in her favorite poem seems far more important right now.

But of course, that would be crazy. Crazy! Kara would never.

"I'm so sorry, Lena, I--" Kara stands up, already hearing Alex's voice telling her where she's needed as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and pretends to read a text, "I have to go. I forgot I had this thing with--"

"Go." Lena's smile is just small enough to make Kara's heart twist in an uncomfortable way that's become familiar since she started lying to her friend. "Sounds important. I understand."

Kara nods, just once. "Tomorrow?"

Lena's smile doesn't grow, but it suddenly reaches her eyes, and something settles in Kara's chest. "Of course. Tomorrow."

Five hours later, foe defeated and safely locked away at the DEO, Supergirl touches down on Lena's balcony. There isn't a single light on inside the apartment, and Kara hesitates for a second by the sliding glass door. She shouldn't sneak into Lena's apartment in the middle of the night. That's a little creepy, right? Even if she knows Lena's said over and over again Kara's welcome any time.

It's just.

That book.

Lena's favorite line.

Kara may never be able to sleep again if she doesn't find out what it is.

So with a non-zero amount of shame at her own choice, Kara ends up sliding the door open and slipping into Lena's living space. She listens for Lena's breathing to make sure she's asleep, and once she's satisfied that's the case she makes a beeline for the shelf and the now-familiar book. It doesn't take her long to find the page she'd been reading before, and soon enough she's reading the lines Lena had been pointing to.

How you must have hurt getting used to me, to my savage, solitary soul, to my name that sends everyone running.

The words wrap around Kara's heart like a vice. If she could do it without blowing her cover and putting Lena in danger, she'd go in her room right now just to wake her up and tell her what Kara thinks about her soul. About her name, too, while she's at it. She'd tell her everyone else is free to run if they want, but Kara isn't going anywhere. 

But she can't do any of those things. 

***

The two lines stay with Kara, sort of swirling under the surface of her thoughts. She never actively thinks about them -- about poetry in general, for that matter -- but they're there. 

She remembers them sometimes. When their friendship grows and strengthens and one day Kara realizes Lena may be the person she loves the most in the world (tied with Alex). When the secrets and lies catch up with her and she thinks she may have lost Lena for good. When she finally gets Lena back.

It's been five years since she snuck into Lena's apartment that one night to find out about her favorite line in her favorite poem. Five years since she's actively thought about Neruda and the book and the words inside it. But for some reason, when Kara wakes up a couple hours earlier than she needs to and finds herself unable to sleep, she feels like that's precisely what she needs to read to soothe her brain. Maybe poetry will have the same sedative effect it used to have in college.

Wearing only an old t-shirt, Kara walks out of the bedroom and into the living area, scanning the shelves where she thinks she last saw that book. It's hard to keep track when your book collection has multiplied and turned into more of a home library situation than anything else, but she eventually finds it -- spine still cracked and pages still well-loved and well-read -- and settles down on the couch.

Kara flips from poem to poem, not really paying attention to any of them. A line from the third and then two from the eighteenth and a word or two from the seventh, eyes flicking between the Spanish lines and their English counterparts on the other side of the page. It's soothing, in a strange way. Like white noise, she figures. Nonsensical but calming. Until she lands on the fourteenth. 

"Oh, those cherry trees," Kara half-groans in a whisper. The cherry trees and the spring and the convoluted way to say I love you. And Lena's favorite lines. 

Kara feels it all over again. The pang of pain at the sight of that line.

My name that sends everyone running.

It lands different this time, five years into a friendship that turned out to be so much more and nearly went up in flames at one point. Because of names and lies and... well. Everything else. Lena was right after all, wasn't she? It's not about what the poem means. It's about what it makes you feel. And right now Kara feels a lot more than she'd be able to put in words if she had to.

Maybe Mr. Neruda was on to something after all.

"Hey," Lena's voice is laced with sleep, and Kara smiles as she listens to her footsteps bringing her closer, "what are you doing? It's the middle of the night."

Kara wouldn't call it the middle of the night -- more like a very early morning, really -- but she's not about to argue. "Reading. I couldn't sleep."

"Everything all right?" Lena reaches the back of the couch and makes the most of the rare height advantage over her girlfriend to press a kiss to the top of blond hair. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Kara opens her arms before Lena can even think about sitting next to her instead, and smiles at the familiar weight of Lena sliding onto her lap. Even as she shrugs off Lena's question, Kara is already burying her face against the soft skin of her girlfriend's neck, breathing her in and letting the familiar scent filling her lungs soothe her like no amount of poetry ever could.

"Kara," Lena's fingers slide into blond hair, blunt fingernails scratching at Kara's scalp and making her hum in delight, "that's not an answer."

"No reason. I'm just not tired anymore I guess." A deep, content sigh. "Baby, you're so good at that."

There's still a slight crease between Lena's eyebrows, but that doesn't stop the smile Kara's praise brings to her face. "You'd tell me if I had to worry?"

Reluctantly, Kara pulls away from the warmth of Lena's neck. Her arms wrap around Lena's waist as she looks into green eyes. "You know I would."

And Kara watches Lena let the words sink in. They've had this conversation before, and Kara knows they'll have it again. They both have sore spots that need special care from time to time. And just to keep Lena's mind from going down any sort of rabbit hole, Kara decides it's time to continue a conversation they left unfinished five years ago.

"It didn't hurt at all, you know. Getting used to you." Kara shows Lena the book she's been holding, and grins when Lena smirks as the reference clicks.

"I thought you didn't like poetry," Lena chides, taking the book and flipping through the pages until she lands -- unsurprisingly, if you ask Kara -- back on poem fourteen.

"I don't. It's like... giving feelings a secret identity."

Lena arches one eyebrow, looking somewhere between amused and curious. "Care to explain?"

"Well, you know," Kara leans in to steal a quick, soft kiss, "say I want to kiss you. I can just say it. That's better than hiding it behind some kind of... flowery metaphor that'll make you wonder if I'm even saying that in the first place. Right?"

There's this look on Lena's face. Kara knows it well. It's like a challenge. Like she's playing chess and she's already thinking six moves ahead and knows you're toast whatever you do from that point on. Kara finds it nothing short of delicious.

"So you're saying," Lena says, and there's victory right there simmering under the surface of her words because she knows -- she knows -- she's won, "you'd rather I say 'this is a lovely sunrise we get to see together'," Lena's gaze drops to the open book in her hand to refresh her memory on the line she's about to quote, but she makes sure she's looking into blue eyes once again when she speaks, "than 'so many times we've watched the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwind in turning fans', right?"

Kara swallows, hard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that will simply not be contained, no matter how hard she tries to keep some semblance of dignity. Her mouth feels dry all of a sudden, heart beating just fast enough -- hard enough -- that she's sure even Lena's plain human hearing can pick it up. And the look on her girlfriend's face lets Kara know she knows exactly what's currently happening to her.

"W-- well." Kara blinks, shaking her head like she's trying to physically clear the fog inside. To her credit, she thinks she manages to sound more indignant than turned on. "I mean that's unfair. You made it hot."

Lena lets out a delighted chuckle that hits Kara right in her heart, like a little pinball ball making it ding with the knowledge that Lena Luthor is happy enough to laugh. Really, truly laugh. 

"What?" Lena asks, still grinning, fingertips teasing the soft hairs at the back of Kara's neck like it's nothing -- like she doesn't know what she's doing to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ohh no, ma'am," Kara grins, cheeks still burning with the feeling simmering down low in her belly but too charmed by her girlfriend's teasing smile to stop, "you don't get to pretend you didn't do that on purpose."

"Kara," Lena says, in that way, because she knows, she knows, she knows Kara's weaknesses so perfectly well, and Kara wouldn't have it any other way, "I was just quoting Neruda, I didn't do anything."

"You did the voice thing!" 

"What voice th-- Kara, if you can't just admit plain language and poetic language are simply not on the same level I--"

"You purred the words! How is that fair!?"

Kara presses her lips together like she can retroactively keep the words from exiting her mouth. Too late, though. Lena looks positively delighted.

"I purred the words?" Lena echoes, barely able to keep a straight face. Actually, you know what? Scratch that. She's openly pleased with herself. Smug, even.

"I mean. I mean," Kara says, and she touches the bridge of her nose with one fingertip because for a moment she's forgotten there are no glasses to push up at all, "obviously it's not the same. Poetry and prose, they're inherently--"

"Different, right," Lena finishes Kara's thought, "so you see how you'd use one or the other depending on how emotionally charged--"

Kara shakes her head. "But you don't need flowery metaphors to convey emotion! You can just say what you mean and mean what you say."

"But you just said it yourself. It felt different when I just said it's a sunset, and when I quoted--"

"You purred poetry at me, Lena, of course I'm going to feel a certain kind of way!"

And there it is. Kara feels it in her bones. The checkmate Lena had seen coming a mile away. She sees it right there in the smirk on her girlfriend's face. In the way Lena's pupils dilate just so. The way her tongue peeks out to lick her lips as she looks at Kara like she's lunch.

Or, you know. Breakfast, as the case may be.

"You feel a certain kind of way?" Lena shifts on Kara's lap and they've been together for long enough that Kara absolutely knows there's nothing innocent or coincidental in the way Lena's night shirt (Kara's high school gym t-shirt, mind you) rides up to expose Lena's lace-covered ass. "What kind of way is that, Supergirl?"

Kara perks up at the sound of her name. Her other name. Because maybe it wasn't checkmate after all. Maybe it was just check. Because the thing is, it's not just Lena knowing all of Kara's weaknesses. That knowledge very much goes both ways. And Lena calling her Supergirl? 

Oh, Kara is absolutely not the only one who's feeling a certain way.

"You know." Kara shrugs slightly, pretending to still be the mouse in this little game. She rests one hand on Lena's knee and lets her palm slide up her thigh, slowly, listening to Lena's heartbeat speeding up with each inch of skin Kara explores. "You know the way I mean."

Lena's breath hitches just so when Kara's hand slides further up, and Kara savors the sound of Lena's heart tripping over itself when her fingertips drag along damp lace.

"You're listening, aren't you?" Lena cocks her eyebrow, but her lips stay parted and her breathing comes in short, warm puffs so the whole thing really doesn't come off as stern as Kara is sure Lena would like. 

"Hmm?" Kara knows she's probably pushing her luck, but she bats her eyelashes anyway, her face the very picture of innocence as if her fingertips weren't tracing the very edge of Lena's panties, hinting at what they could (will) do if she just happened to push that fabric aside. "Listening to what, baby?"

Lena tries not to -- Kara can see the struggle right there in her eyes -- but she whimpers anyway, quiet and just barely audible to the human ear. 

"Kara." It tries to sound like a warning, but it falls just this side of pleading instead. Lena blushes so very pretty when she's feeling a certain kind of way.

"Yes, Lena?" 

"You're listening," a breath, slow and measured like she wishes she could take in a deep one but her lungs can't quite cope with that right now, "to me."

"Well, I mean," Kara shrugs slightly, like she can't feel the warmth of Lena's pussy against her fingertips, "I try to. I feel like it's good girlfriend etiquette."

Lena is trying so hard to look at least moderately annoyed. It's not working at all, but Kara can see that's her intent. She also knows exactly what Lena means, too. She means Kara is listening to her. To the beat of her heart and the air in her lungs and all the tiny, inaudible (for everyone else) sounds that tell her exactly how much Lena wants her. 

"You're listening to what you're doing to me." Lena drops the book on the floor to wrap both hands around Kara's neck, hips shifting forward just enough to get more contact with Kara's hand between her legs. Kara knows Lena doesn't need superhearing to notice the way Kara's breath catches in her throat. 

"And what am I doing to you, baby?" Kara won't cross the barrier of Lena's panties just yet, but her fingers becomes more purposeful, less teasing as two fingertips press against Lena's clit through damp lace. Lena's eyes flutter closed and she takes in a sharp breath that sounds almost like a gasp, and Kara rewards such a gorgeous sound with a kiss to Lena's jaw. "What Spring does to cherry trees?"

Lena must feel Kara's teasing grin even if she can't see it, because she lets out a breathless chuckle even as her hips start rocking to meet the movements of Kara's fingers. "Just admit poetry can express richer emotions than prose ever cou--"

Kara's mouth is on Lena's before she can finish her thought, and Kara would maybe feel a bit guilty for interrupting, but Lena's fingers fist in blond hair and pull her close and there's no way someone who's offended would kiss her like that. And Kara isn't even listening anymore, because Lena's tongue is in her mouth and all she can hear is her own heart thumping along anyway.

When she breaks the kiss, Lena keeps Kara close. She's panting slightly, breath hot and wet against Kara's lips and pupils so dilated Kara wonders if she can see her at all. A quiet, hitched moan escapes parted lips, and Kara swears there's nothing in the world -- in the universe, really -- more beautiful than Lena when she's like this. Like putty in her hands. And Kara just can't resist. 

"Admit you purred," she whispers against kiss-swollen lips, knowing if there's one chance for her to win an argument with her girlfriend this must be it. When she has Lena rocking against her fingers, wet and wanting and just the right amount of needy to get her to give in, for once. 

"Kara." It's practically a whine, and Kara swears it sounds like victory. Until she sees the glint in her girlfriend's eyes, and Lena gets her checkmate move after all. "Shut up and fuck me."

Kara feels the words rather than hears them. They hit right between her legs and spread all over her body, and you know what? Kara really is okay with losing under these particular circumstances.

Two fingers hook under the crotch of Lena's panties and Kara tugs lightly, almost like she's testing the strength of the lacy fabric. "Do you really like the..." Kara's voice trails off as Lena pulls the t-shirt up and over her head, blue eyes staring unabashedly at her girlfriends breasts as she struggles to finish her thought, "...these?"

It's just polite to ask before tearing someone's panties to shreds, if you ask her, even if you're currently transfixed at the sight of her breasts.

"I don't care." Lena's voice is doing that thing again, except this time Kara is pretty sure she's not doing it on purpose at all, it's just that's what Lena sounds like when she needs Kara now and isn't that just the best thing ever? "Baby, please, I don't care."

Kara doesn't know if she rips the panties off first and then leans in to catch Lena's left nipple with her mouth or if it happens the other way around, but she honestly doesn't care either, as it turns out. All she knows is two fingers slip inside Lena in one smooth, firm thrust, and her free hand grabs Lena's right breast, and then--

"More," Lena moans, breathy and greedy, but when Kara starts thrusting harder into her Lena shakes her head, "no, no-- more fingers," and Kara lets out a quiet whimper around the stiff nipple between her teeth. 

Kara pulls her fingers out of Lena and stretches her ring finger to join the first two before sliding them back inside. Her movements are slow and careful, all of her senses focused on detecting even the slightest hint of discomfort in her girlfriend until her three fingers are fully inside Lena. 

"Go on, Supergirl." 

Lena's tone is just the right amount of teasing to make Kara chuckle lightly, mouth leaving Lena's breast to trail kisses up her sternum and to the freckles on her neck as her arm starts pumping once again. She's so very close, Kara can tell, and even more so when she turns her wrist just so to press the pad of her thumb against Lena's clit.

Lena's fingers dig into Kara's scalp, into the strong muscle at her shoulder as Lena holds on and rides Kara's hand, hips rocking hard and fast in time with Kara's thrusts. Kara couldn't listen to any one thing if she tried. It's a symphony of sighs and moans, whimpers and ragged breaths and stuttering heartbeats that nearly overwhelms her senses until she feels Lena clench around her fingers, hips losing their rhythm as Lena comes with Kara's name on her lips.

Kara pulls her face away from Lena's neck just so she can look at her. Watch her come around her fingers and then relax, chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch her breath. Kara swears there can't be a more beautiful sight in the universe, especially not now, with the sun rising and bathing Lena's damp skin in early morning light. And as much as Kara tries to suppress it, there's a thought running through her head. A line from that stupid poem with its stupid cherry trees.

A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body... 

"You're thinking very loudly," Lena whispers, already resting her head on Kara's shoulder as her fingertips play with the hem of Kara's shirt, "what are you thinking?"

For a second, Kara considers telling her, but Neruda's words aren't what comes out when she opens her mouth. "Just how beautiful you look," she says, which is in fact the truth. Kind of. She can't let Lena win every single time, right?

***

"Apparently the first cherry trees got here in 1910, but they had to burn them all because of a bunch of insects." Kara holds the little guide book in her hand as she reads, her other hand safely in Lena's as they walk along the Tidal Basin. "These ones are newer, from 1912."

 "Oh, like the Titanic!" Lena looks delighted with the coincidence, and the bright smile on her face makes Kara lean in to steal a kiss from her lips. Her fiancée is super cute when she lets her inner dork show, if you ask Kara.

"See? I told you buying an actual guide book would be worth it!" Kara holds the small book in her hand with the pride of someone who's just won an argument (for once). "Where else are you going to get that kind of high quality trivia?"

"You do know the prototype L-Corp keychain I gave you last week can access Google, yes?"

"Not the same."

"Not to mention the actual supercomputers we all carry around in our pockets. Or the high-tech communicator in your wat--"

"Lena!" Kara groans. "Look around! The cherry blossoms! The quaintness of springtime! A romantic stroll along the river! Where's your sense of romance?"

Lena chuckles lightly, her free hand sliding up Kara's arm to wrap around her bicep. And Kara would complain about the obvious use of one of her many Lena-related weaknesses, but you know what? It works.

"Kara Danvers," Lena says, voice low and teasing, "that's all very poetic."

Kara rolls her eyes, but she can't quite stop the bright smile that's already appearing on her face. "Don't you start with me," she warns, not very convincingly. 

Lena presses a kiss to Kara's shoulder, and it makes color rise to Kara's cheeks even through the soft fabric of her cardigan. Even after all these years. But she figures if there's one day to be particularly enamored with one's fiancée, that's the day she's scheduled to receive a Presidential Award for her contributions to science and the betterment of humanity.

Not to brag. But Kara is proud.

"I love you," Kara says, because she can't not, "and I'm just so proud, I--"

Lena presses a finger to Kara's lips, stopping what was potentially about to turn into a whole speech about the many ways in which Lena Luthor could not possibly be any more perfect if she tried. 

"Kara," Lena warns, all cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips, "you promised. You promised you wouldn't cry before the actual ceremony."

And Kara would argue. She'd argue that she's perfectly capable of going on about Lena's many virtues without actually crying, but you know what? Her eyes are feeling just a tiny bit misty already so she's just gonna go ahead and trust Lena on this one.

"You know what I also love?" Kara presses a kiss to the pad of Lena's finger and obediently changes subjects. "Sushi. Let's go get some." Kara starts walking away from the beautiful soft pink trees and in the general direction of the street festival, tugging Lena along. She's all for the romance of blossom-watching, but she'd be lying if she said hearing about the culinary side of this whole festival hadn't excited her a bit more than that.

It's only when she hears a sigh coming from Lena that Kara's focus shifts from food to the woman next to her. That wasn't a happy sigh. 

"Are you okay, baby?"

Lena smiles. It's not a fake smile, but there's a hint of something in it that isn't fully happy, either. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. It's just... between the cherry blossoms and all this talk of sushi, I guess it made me a bit nostalgic for Sendai." 

"Sendai?" Kara looks at Lena with curiosity written all over her face. "What's Sendai?"

"Oh, it's a city in Japan. I lived there for a few months for an exchange when I was in college. Did I never tell you?" Kara shakes her head, her face the picture of delight at getting to learn something new about Lena. "There was this little restaurant near Tohokudai, I swear they had the best sushi in the world." Lena hums, letting her eyes flutter closed for a second like she's trying to imagine the taste. "I'd do anything for some negitoro maki from that place right about now."

Kara listens intently to her fiancée's words. She knows it's just a silly little comment. She knows Lena will be perfectly happy eating the undoubtedly delicious sushi currently being sold at the street festival. And yet.

She can't resist a chance to make Lena just that little bit happier, can she? 

So Kara looks around to make sure they're not being watched, and lets go of Lena's hand. "Be right back."

"Where are you--?"

But all Lena gets is a quick kiss and a gust of wind on her face before Kara disappears.

She's only gone for a couple of minutes -- just enough for Lena to wander back towards the cherry trees -- and when she comes back she's holding a small box which she immediately presents to Lena.

"Sushi for my... sushi," Kara lets out a chuckle, her now-free hand coming up to scratch at the back of her head like she's aware she may have gone just a little bit overboard but she's hoping it won't be too much, "Sendai's beautiful, by the way."

Lena's smile is soft, and Kara has a feeling -- not to toot her own horn -- if she'd been listening she would've heard Lena's heart skip a beat. 

"Kara Danvers," Lena sighs, shaking her head like that'll do anything to hide just how charmed she is right now, "you're something el-- what's that?"

"Nothing," Kara shifts slightly and puts her hand -- and the little carton box it's holding -- behind her back, fully intending on letting the focus of this moment be on her romantic gesture, but Lena raises one eyebrow and Kara loses her resolve. "Potstickers." Kara's voice is quiet as she shows Lena the box. "What? I was in the neighborhood!"

"In the neighborhood of," Lena squints slightly as she reads the words on the box, "Shanghai?"

"Well, China is next door to Japan, if you think about it."

Lena chuckles, clearly too charmed by this whole thing to even continue teasing Kara about it. "Thank you. For this. You didn't actually have to fly all the way to Japan to get my favorite sushi, but I appreciate it."

Kara shrugs, chopsticks already grabbing the first potsticker in the box. "I'd go way farther than Japan to make you happy. You know that."

"I do know," Lena nods, looking just a little thoughtful, like she's just now realizing she fully believes Kara would stop at nothing to make her happy, "you even promised when you proposed."

Lena wiggles her finger, flashing the kryptium ring that's been there for a few weeks now along with a teasing smile, and Kara can only shrug. "Well, I meant it," she says, popping the potsticker in her mouth and leaning against the trunk of a nearby cherry tree.

"I know," Lena says again, but this time she's smiling, amusement shining in her eyes, "if only Lex had figured out the one true way to have the world in the palm of your hand is to make a Kryptonian fall in love with you."

"To be fair, I really don't think your brother is Kal's type."

***

Eight hours later, they're seeing the Tidal Basin from above, the cherry blossoms looking nearly white in the moonlight. They could be in National City already, but Kara figures there's no reason why she can't take the scenic route with Lena in her arms and enjoy the view without the crowds and the bustle they experienced earlier today. Perks of being your own private jet.

"Go a bit lower, baby," Lena's voice is soft against Kara's ear, like she's afraid if she speaks too loud she'll break the spell and they won't feel like the only two people in the world anymore, "I want to see the flowers."

Kara doesn't make her wait. Lena's just been awarded an actual medal by the President, and spoiling her a little is the least Kara can do. So she dips until they're hovering just above the soft pink blossoms and then a little lower still, close enough that Lena can smell the sweet, fresh scent of Spring.

The night is clear and quiet, just cool enough for Lena to reach for Kara's cape and pull it forward to wrap it around herself. Kara holds her a little closer, just enough to hopefully provide a bit of extra warmth, and she figures it was the right move when Lena slips one arm from under Kara's cape to reach for the tree and pick a particularly pretty blossom from one of the branches that's closer to them.

Lena looks at it for a moment, twirling the little stem between her fingers like she's pondering what to do with it. And then she turns and tucks Kara's hair behind her ear, sliding the small flower between soft blond strands and smiling when she's satisfied it'll stay exactly where she wants it.

"Happy?" Kara chuckles, something soft and quiet and a little teasing because there's something equal parts amusing and endearing about Lena's perfectionism when it comes to silly little things like putting a flower in Kara's hair.

"Very."

And there's something about the way Lena smiles, more with her eyes than with her mouth, that makes Kara see, clear as day, just how serious Lena is. How sincere, when she says she's very happy. 

Maybe that's why Kara gets a little transfixed just looking at her, suddenly aware of just how different this Lena -- the Lena wrapped in her arms and her cape, wearing her ring and smiling with a smile that's just Kara's -- is from the Lena she first met all those years ago.

"Kara Zor-El," Lena's voice is soft just like the sound of Kara's true name on her lips, "what are you thinking about?"

And Kara wishes she had the words to tell her. But how does she even begin to explain what she's feeling right now? How she's still the same Lena that made Kara's heart trip all over itself the first time she saw her, but she's so very different all the same time. Brighter. Lighter. Loved. God, she's so loved, and Lena knows it, finally, and that's what's different, maybe. Not just Kara's love, because Lena's had that from the very first day, probably, but the fact that Lena can feel it now. 

How do you put that in words? I love you just doesn't feel like enough. 

And then it hits her.

"I'm thinking," Kara smiles, cheeks pink with the knowledge that she's just been proven wrong, "about what Spring does to cherry trees."

[oloreaa]

Daisy Chains

Pairing: Din Djarin/f!Reader

Summary: You fall in love with Din in the summer before he swears his creed.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: slightly nsfw, non descriptive sex, yes I used those gifs of young Pedro to fuel this, so expect shaggy haired puppy eyed Din who is cocky af

Notes: I wrote this in a span of 5h because my brain could not stop working, also I took some liberties with canon: Mandalorian's come of age when they're 21 in this fic, due to the severity of the creed/ the restrictions that come with it. So Reader is about 19/20 while Din is 20 :) [edit: title and one line are inspired by Lana del Rey's "Summer Bummer"]

▪ Masterlist ▪ Next ▪

……………

The first time you saw him, he was wearing a scowl, staring after the Mandalorian warrior who had given him a slap on the back of the head.

You could not help your giggle, turning away so you could laugh at the grumpy expression on his face. When you looked back, though, his gaze was on you.

Immediately straightening, you sent him the most innocent smile you could muster.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and made his way over to your stall that was filled with flowers in both pots and buckets, ready to be arranged in various possibilities.

"You see something funny?" he asked, shaking the slightly shaggy hair out of his face. Your eyes widened as you took him in, and you felt your face become hot as you realised that he was handsome as hell.

Dark brown hair that was a tad too long, a sharp face with high cheekbones, a jawline to die for, dark eyes you could lose yourself in. Not to mention his voice, like honey wrapped around every vowel and consonant, pleasant to listen to and you would do anything to keep him talking.

"No, sir," you said, and they were the only words you could manage, "nothing funny at all."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and you could not help but be charmed by those looks, the instant way he had drawn you in, the sharp glint in his eyes.

"Is that so, flower girl?"

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, and bit your lip playfully, suddenly feeling very bold. "Yes," you breathed, tilting your face up playfully.

He scoffed slightly, and put his hands on his hips, resting his weight on one leg. You could place him as maybe one year older than you, two if you had to squint.

"Girls like you should know when to keep their eyes away," he said. 

You leaned against the counter, smiling brightly, overwhelmed by the urge to get to know him better.

"The way I see it, I was just observing a spectacle."

"Uh huh?"

"What are you doing with the Mandalorians, anyways?" You asked, looking at him. Wearing something that approximated armour, a durasteel plate on his torso and some thigh plates, and a vambrace, he seemed better armed than most of the visitors of the market here.

"I'm one of them," he answered, puffing his chest out, raising his chin.

"You're not wearing a helmet," you observed, and you could not help the coy smile that crept onto your face.

"I'll swear the creed soon," he said, clenching his jaw and revealing a twitch in his cheek that almost made you swoon.

"Oh dear, that's a shame," you said, plucking a daisy from the flower pot you were selling.

"Why?" His face was set into a frown, brows pulled together, and it was honestly unfair that he was so good looking even while doing that.

"Face like yours, under a helmet? A damn shame."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you, and with delight you could see his cheeks darkening some. He opened his mouth several times as if wanting to say something, but nothing came out.

You reached over the counter, and gave him the daisy, which he accepted without taking his eyes off you.

"If you care for dancing, come and find me," you invited, and with a shy smile, you told him your name. 

When he repeated it, dark eyes locked onto yours intensely, you swore you just melted a bit.

~

You did not see him for the next week, which was fine. To be honest with yourself, you did not even expect for him to remember you. The way you saw it, it was just a small interaction with a cute guy, some butterflies in your belly and a crush to think back on in the middle of the night. It did not matter that he probably forgot you.

If you gave yourself enough time, you might have completely forgotten him, too.

But apparently, the universe had other ideas.

"Flower girl," someone called from behind, "Do you need help?"

You looked up from the ground, teeth gritted together in effort from the heavy bag of soil you were carrying. When you caught sight of him, your face lit up.

"Not-A-Mandalorian-Yet!" You called out, putting the bag onto the ground as gently as you could, already moving onto giving him a hug. "Hey, how are you?"

He looked at you, startled, and with a hot face you realised you had automatically tried to embrace him like you often did.

"I'm good," he said stiffly, and you gave an embarrassed smile, stomach doing somersaults.

"Oh, Maker, I'm sorry I assumed," you started to say, hands raised to your mouth, "I do that with my friends, I'm so sorry."

He furrowed his brows and gave an equally embarrassed smile back.

"It's fine," he said, "I don't mind."

Yet clearly he did.

You stepped back from him, and bit your bottom lip nervously. "I think I'll get going," you said, fidgeting like an absolute moron and cursing yourself.

He jerked into motion.

"No, I'll- Let me help you with the bag," he said, and if you had not been too occupied with how hot your face felt at the moment, you might have noticed how he was blushing as well.

"That's nice of you," you managed to say, and barely resisted a giggle in both embarrassment and delight when he picked the bag up with no difficulty, putting it smoothly under one arm, before turning towards you and giving you a slightly crooked smile. "Where to?"

You blinked at him, a big smile on your face. "Thank you," you told him, and started into motion. He easily kept up, but did not initiate conversation like you expected.

If he won't talk, I will, you thought, and squared your shoulders in a mini pep boost.

"So, Not-A-Mandalorian-Yet," your mouth chose to say, and you inwardly started to cringe at yourself, "Do you have a name that I can call you by?"

He hesitated, and looked away while you walked, and your heart sank a bit.

"Oh, no- no, it's fine if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to-"

"It's Din," he said, "I haven't sworn the creed yet, so you can know my name."

You beamed at him, and he shyly returned your smile, his dark eyes intense and burning into you.

~

The third time you saw Din, he was on a supply run, walking past your stall with a hovering craft filled with crates. Him and three other young armoured humanoids, fellow Mandalorians, if you had to guess, were walking alongside with it. When his gaze met yours, you held up a small bundle of daisy blooms that was in your hand already, and shot him a smile. You were surprised when he smiled back, sending it alongside with a fluttery wink that made your heart skip a beat.

~

It became a game. 

Everytime he came to your stand, you instantly perked up, heart beating fast in your chest, a broad smile already greeting him.

Whenever you passed each other, you smiled, fleetingly touched each other, found excuses to look into the other's eyes.

He started to greet you with "sarad", and while you were pretty sure that he was calling you something like annoying or cheeky, the gentle tone he used and the tender way he would smile at you let you know that this attraction was not as one-sided as you tried to tell yourselves sometimes.

And you were pretty sure that Mandalorians do not need to buy flowers as often as Din did.

"What does sarad mean?" you asked him once while you finished up a bouquet for another client.

He was quiet, looking at you for a long time, before: "Sarad means flower."

You stared at him, and he visibly blushed even if the rest of his face did not change.

"I like it," you said, a shy smile on your face, "Please don't stop calling me that, all right?"

He smiled brightly at you, his entire face lighting up, and you were pretty sure that if you had not been smitten before, you would have definitely fallen for him in that second.

"Okay," he said.

~

"Do you want to go dancing?" You asked him when you saw him again, this time alone, "It's the weekend soon and my friends often meet somewhere to dance."

He huffed, leaning against the stall, cutting an attractive figure against the bright light of the marketplace. It was a slow day, barely anyone coming to visit in the heat of the midday sun. 

"Do I look like I dance?" Din asked, giving you a wry look. 

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

"I could teach you," you offered, in a breathier tone than you would have liked. He looked at you, and you could have sworn that his eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second, which made you even bolder, "We could dance alone at first."

He stared at you, jaw slightly ticking.

"I might have to take you up on that," he said, and oh, when did his voice become so deep?

"When do you want to?"

His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time for a longer moment, and when he said "Now," in that sinful voice of his, you knew that he was not talking about dancing at all.

Risking a look around, seeing the marketplace basically abandoned, most of the other vendors having taken a break, you decided that you could have a bit of fun.

"There is a bag of soil in the back, and I might need you to lift it for me," you told him, shooting Din a coy smile that became a full beam when he nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips as well, delightful dimples showing as his eyes crinkled in amusement. 

He followed you without a word, and before you knew it, you were out of sight of everyone else.

"Can I-" you started to say, wanting to ask for his permission first when you turned around and looked at him, but he sneaked a hand behind your head, tilted your face towards him and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips.

You looked at him in surprise, mouth open, flush threatening to burn you alive.

"I'm sorry," he started to say, blushing furiously, "I've not kissed many people before, was it-" 

Before he could say anything else, you had both of your hands cradling his face, tugging him closer to your body.

"That's all right," you said before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth and tasting him properly, feeling him reciprocate clumsily but with enthusiasm. Your lips parted with a quiet smack, and you stared into his face. His eyes were hooded and fixed onto you like he was a hunter and you were prey, a blush high on his cheeks, his lips slightly pinker than before.

"I'll teach you," you whispered, before kissing him again, tugging him even closer.

~ 

After that, his visits became more frequent.

~

"My alor'ad does not approve of this," Din said to you after a few more times you crossed each other's paths.

You had shown him the meadow you often went to, reading there most of the time, a small place not many people would find. The both of you were sitting in the tall grass, your fingers working on making a flower crown for Din. He did not know it was for him, yet, and he was holding his face into the sun, eyes closed as he soaked in the warmth of the summer.

You hummed, and linked your fingers into his, giving him a cheeky smile.

"My mother would not approve as well," you told him, using a long piece of grass to tie off the crown, "Always says something about finding a husband first. Would probably marry me off to the first Imperial officer she could find, to keep me out of trouble."

He opened one eye, looking at you with a smirk.

"You? A trophy wife for some cog head?"

"I would make an amazing trophy wife, thank you very much."

The young man turned onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, giving you a cocky grin.

"That you would," he said, gaze trailing along your figure, and you felt desire building in you at the heat in his eyes.

"Here, for you," you said to diffuse the tension crackling between the both of you, and presented him the wildflower crown.

Din stared at you in bewilderment, and you could not help your laugh at the offended look in his eyes.

"I'm not wearing that," he said, with a small scowl. You walked on your knees towards him, a smile threatening to split your face, and crowned him.

"I declare you king of the meadow," you said as dramatically as possible, before dissolving in a fit of giggles. You could see that he was still embarrassed, but he was grinning as well.

"I'm training to become a Mandalorian," he told you, face becoming very serious, raising his eyebrows at you and tilting his chin towards his chest, his dark eyes making you feel all sorts of butterflies, "I am very dangerous and can kill you with no hesitation."

You nodded, a mocking expression on your face, knowing deep inside that he would never harm you without reason. "That's hot."

He snorted in surprise, a loud laugh ringing through the meadow.

"I can take out a stormtrooper within twenty seconds."

You giggled, slapping his chest slightly. "So could a very determined duck. Or a Gungan!"

He attacked you, tickling fingers trailing along your side, making you shriek as you tried to get away from him.

"Take that back," Din demanded, a playful smile on his face.

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, squirming under his touch, "You're a mighty warrior."

He nodded, and raised his eyebrows at you expectantly.

"Din, are you fishing for compliments?" 

He winked at you. "I might be."

You pushed at his shoulder, chuckling to yourself, before you started off.

"You can take on four men at once."

He furrowed his brows and nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed, "I like those odds."

"You can use those badass jetpacks." You pressed a small kiss onto his knuckles, desperately trying not to laugh when his gaze became self-satisfied. 

"Training in the Rising Phoenix, sarad, don't you forget that."

"You can roundhouse kick a blurrg!"

Dissolving into giggles, you pressed your face into his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as well.

The both of you cackled for several minutes straight, everytime you caught each other's gazes, starting to laugh again.

It took too long until you could breathe normally again.

"Haven't tried that yet," Din said, making you giggle.

"You're a mighty warrior, we all know that, no need to brag."

He smirked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "But you know that it's not bragging if you can actually do it."

"I'm sure you can," you snorted, "But even warriors can wear flower crowns."

Din scoffed, a big grin on his face. "Is that so?"

He tried to take the crown off, but you pushed it deeper onto his head, flattening his shaggy hair against his forehead. He tried again, crunching his nose at you, a playful smile on his face, but you resisted his charm to the best of your abilities.

He quickly grabbed your shoulder and flipped you around, making you shriek with laughter as he pinned you onto the ground.

"Stop that," he said, and you could feel his belly twitch against you as he suppressed his laughter, "I'm very dangerous and I have a reputation to uphold."

"Of course, Din," you said, smiling up at him, his head eclipsing the sun in your view. Tugging at his hair, he pulled the crown down and set it onto your head.

"It suits you better," he said in a rough voice, and before you know it, he was devouring you in a searing kiss that made your toes curl, a hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to him for better access.

When he groaned your name into your mouth, you almost came on the spot.

~

You had told him to come to the meadow tonight, and you were excited beyond compare. As soon as you saw his familiar frame, tall and lanky but with deliciously broad shoulders, you made your way through the high grass, a basket in your hands.

"I brought food," you told him shyly, before spreading a picnic blanket onto the ground, flattening it carefully.

He dropped to his knees, and helped to make it more even, then put the basket right on the side so one corner would be secured by the weight.

You both took your shoes off, and after a bit of light conversation and nibbling at the various fruits you had packed, relaxed into each other.

"You know I can't do this for long, right?" Din asked, slowly tracing the side of your face with a gentle finger, his head propped up by his hand as you lay side by side under the guise of watching the stars.

You turned your head to him, and stared into his face.

"How long do we have?" you asked him, voice quiet and very small.

"Two months," he said, voice rough. 

To avoid having to answer to that, you kissed him desperately, rolling on top of him, bodies flush together as you straddled his lap, feeling proof of his desire against you. Kissing your way down his neck, you were careful not to leave any marks that Din could be punished for, should the Mandalorians see them. His hands were on you, kneading your sides, pulling you close.

He sat up quickly, and took off his shirt, and with pooling desire you absorbed the sight of his toned upper body, some scars curling around his arms and one slash across his abs.

He was beautiful. And you told him that as well, watching him blush, gaze darkening.

When you looked him into the eyes in the dim starlight, he gave you a slightly nervous but determined smile. You quickly resolved to kiss every single one of the scars he might possess, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his chest, then his stomach, and then lower.

He gasped when you wrapped your lips around him, his fingers tightening in your hair.

~

It was sufficient to say that while his visits were frequent before, now they were a nightly occurrence.

~ 

You could not always finish your explorations of each other, sometimes your commlink blinked and your mother demanded to know where you are, but most of the time it was Din's, the covert sending out messages to several of their trainees, having them run errands. But despite all of that, you learned each other's bodies quite well anyways. Using every moment you had together, touching the other one, feeling your skin against each other, the evidence for your desire never failed to make the other one dizzy. 

You learned a lot about Din during those stolen nights, and days, and little breaks whenever you could manage to sneak away. 

He was just as enthusiastic kissing you on the mouth as everywhere else, which you loved. It was almost as if he was trying to absorb as much of your touch as possible, probably stocking up on touch before he will swear the creed in a few weeks. 

As much as you wished that he would choose you over his tribe, you know he would not. It was too important to him.

So you took everything he had to offer you now, and made the best of it.

You made love under the stars so many times you had lost count, hiding a smile every time you felt the dull ache he left behind, and with Din's passion, you had never been so grateful before that you had the implant.

And it was so unfair, as well, for he had the face of an angel but his voice was sinful, making your head spin in the best of ways. Letting him in your life and between your legs was one of the best things that could have happened to you, even though time was working against you.

Din always let his mouth run while you were warming his ears with your thighs, while he was deep inside you, murmuring against your neck, while his fingers were buried in you, or in your hair as you looked up into his dark eyes, winking as you swirled your tongue around him. 

He never seemed to be able to shut up while you were around him, on him, under him, and it was as if he tried to make up for lost time already.

You pretended that you do not cry yourself to sleep because of his creed sometimes.

~

"I'll be of age in the fall," he told you again when you were hiding in the back of the stall on another slow day with almost no customers. You were on his lap, both of you with flushed faces and heaving chests after you spend several minutes simply making out, hearts fluttering fast in your chests. "I can't stay for long."

Even as your heart broke at hearing that, you decided that, once again, it was a problem for future-you.

"Then we'll make the best of it," you said before capturing his lips again, making him groan deep in his throat.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, his big hands resting on your waist, pulling your bodies close together, his dark eyes burning into you, the shaggy fringe falling into his eyes softening his face, "So, so pretty."

"Even when I'm making you flower crowns?" you teased.

"Especially when you're doing that," he whispered, and you pushed his fringe away from his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Din," you murmured his name, looking at him tenderly.

"You've wrapped me up in your daisy chains, sarad."

Heart clenching at the genuine affection in his voice, you kissed him to shut him up, feeling him smile against you, knowing that your days together were coming to an end.

……………

Thank you for reading!

Huge thanks at both @mndalorians for listening to me ramble late at night and being amazing, and @teaofpeach for being the beta of this fic, looking over this and constantly encouraging and enabling me. I love you❤

Tags: @binggrae-banana-milk @b0n-chann @pisss-offf-ghostt @chibi-liz05 @din-damn-djarin @soldade @yourexcellentboiiii @chaotic-noceur @ezrasarm @hdlynn @mndalorians @over300books @agirllovespasta @crookedmoonsaultpunk @teaofpeach @shadylightbearherring @mitchi-c @concussed-to-pieces @adikaofmandalore @dadolorian

[squeamishdionysus]

The Boy in the Tea Shop

Chapter 1

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

TW: none that i can note

summary: You're living alone as a refugee in Ba Sing Se. Things all seem normal until you meet a boy in a tea shop.

notes: omg this took so long. this took way longer than I ever thought it would. I'm so sorry for the long wait again, y'all, but school has just been really overwhelming, not to mention my mental health hasn't been the best. Anyways, it felt good to get this done finally! This is the first chapter of a Zuko x Reader series I will be doing centered around Zuko's arch in Ba Sing Se. I'm really looking forward to this! Now, this chapter is unedited and I'll admit, not the best work I've done, but I tried my best and just wanted to get the first chapter awkwardness out of the way. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Edit: I forgot to mention that the reader uses she/they pronouns and has long enough hair to pull up. They are addressed as "miss" as well.

Masterlist

Being a refugee in Ba Sing Se was not easy.

The Dai Li were around every corner, as well as thieves and swindlers, and so many other people around you were struggling to get by. You weren’t allowed to mention the very war that brought you to Ba Sing Se, and as a consequence of that, it was hard to find anyone who might’ve known your family and would be willing to help you out.

Your parents had sacrificed a lot to make sure you got to Ba Sing Se, feeling you’d be much safer there than back home in your small village, one that was right in the path of invading Fire Nation troops. The trip was long and hard, and now that you were there, it didn’t seem very worth it. You had very little money, knew no one, and felt suffocated by the “culture” that was enforced on everyone.

You sighed, closing and locking the door to the pottery shop. You had gotten a job there weeks ago, and though the pay wasn’t a lot, the owner was incredibly kind and you actually enjoyed working there. It paid enough for living expenses and basic necessities, which is what mattered. Today, however, you were given a small bonus, as you had sold a very valuable piece to a very important customer and actually managed to convince them to pre-order two more. Your boss was very impressed and rewarded you with some money to spend on something special.

You didn’t have much in mind. There wasn’t a lot going on in the Lower Ring. The best you could do for now, besides looking around for something to do, was keep your money out of plain sight. There were just too many thieves around this area to risk it.

A short grumble came from your stomach, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since earlier that morning.  There weren’t many good restaurants around here, though, as all of those were up in the Middle Ring. However, all of the monorails were closed and it would be a nightmare to try and walk all the way up there. It seemed that the only option you had for now was a tea shop, as those were more easily accessible in the Lower Ring. One that came to mind was the Pao Family Tea House. You had heard from your employer that they had just recently hired new staff, and that the tea, which was mediocre at best before, was now the best in Ba Sing Se. You were sure that was a stretch, but it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

You opened the door to the tea shop, looking up at the customers sitting around at each table. Most were guards and workers from around the city, probably because, like you, they were all off from their work shifts. They all seemed to be enjoying the tea they ordered, which gave you a little bit of hope that maybe you hadn’t decided to waste your time and money on something you wouldn’t enjoy. You took a seat at the only empty table left and looked at a small menu that was to the side, trying to pick out something you’d like but also could afford.

Thankfully, everything on the menu was in an affordable range. That came to no surprise, considering the quality and location of the tea house. They only had three different teas you could order and a few snacks you could order as sides. No matter what you ordered, it probably wouldn’t be enough to completely satisfy your hunger. You probably had something else back at the apartment, though. You’d worry about it when you got there.

The most appealing thing on the menu to you at that moment was the jasmine tea. Jasmine tea wasn’t something you had very often. Your mother only made it on special occasions, as it was hard to get jasmine tea leaves where you lived. Of course, being a large city, Ba Sing Se had plenty of it, meaning that what used to be a delicacy to you could now be found everywhere. Still, you limited yourself to only having it once in a while, that way it still felt rewarding whenever you ordered it. Along with the tea, you picked out the largest snack they had: a plate of cakes, just to make sure you wouldn’t be starving later.

You put the menu to the side, looking up to see a waiter walking towards your table.

A cute waiter. 

A cute waiter your age.

He was tall; that was the first thing you noticed about him. The second was his scar. He had a scar that covered his right eye, one that was clearly caused by a burn of some kind. It wasn’t pleasant (in your eyes, no scars were), but it didn’t mean you found it ugly. Everyone in the Lower Ring had scars of some kind, some visible and some not. It wasn’t any of your business to judge him by that. 

The third thing you noticed were his eyes. They were what you could only describe as a mix of brown and amber, something you couldn’t say you had ever seen before. 

You felt yourself beginning to blush a bit, knowing you did not look your absolute best from having to work all day. It didn’t help that you probably had bags under your eyes. You didn’t exactly live in the safest part of town, and more often than not you found yourself lying awake, paranoid about what might happen if you dozed off for even a second. If it wasn’t paranoia, it was the vivid nightmares that had plagued your mind about the Fire Nation ever since you left home. 

The boy stopped in front of your table, pulling out a pen and notepad from his apron pocket. “Hello, welcome to the Pao Family Tea House. What would you like?” His voice was hoarse and raspy. You could hear a mix of boredom and weariness ring through his words. It was something you heard in your own words all the time, especially at work. You managed a small smile and looked at the menu to refresh your mind of your order.

“Can I get a cup of jasmine tea and a small plate of cakes?” you asked, looking up at him. He looked down at you and paused for a moment, seeming to examine you just for a short second before nodding. He walked back to the counter, placing the order in front of an older man who was holding a teapot and chatting with whom you could only assume was the manager.

You sighed, looking back down at the table in thought. The waiter was intriguing, but you didn’t have the confidence to push past just ordering food. You didn’t know him and he didn’t know you. There was no point in trying to become anything more than strangers.

Then again, it couldn’t hurt to be friendly.

You soon saw the waiter walking back to your table, a cup of tea on his tray. He placed it down on your table, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Thank you,” you said, lifting the cup and breathing in the steam that came from the tea. It smelled delicious, which isn’t something you could normally say about tea in the Lower Ring. You smiled up at him. “Did you make the tea yourself?”

The waiter looked unsure of what to say. Either what you had just said was incredibly stupid or you were one of the first customers to say anything to him, and for your dignity’s sake, you hoped it was the latter.

“Um, no. My uncle made it.”

You looked over his shoulder, spotting a surprisingly recognizable older man with a teapot in his hands, chatting with one of the guards as he served their tea. 

“Is he your uncle?” you asked, nodding to the man. The waiter looked over and nodded. You chuckled, recalling your encounter with the man.

“I recognize him, actually. He came into the shop I work at a few weeks ago and bought a vase.”

The waiter looked back at you, a slightly curious look coming across his features. You went on, smiling softly.

“He was very friendly. He flirted with my boss a bit, and even managed to leave a tip, despite mentioning he was a refugee.”

The waiter huffed a bit, his eyes trailing to the floor. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

It was silent for a moment, as you studied the features of the waiter some more. It occured to you that since his uncle was a refugee, that probably meant the boy was, and he didn’t seem to be all that proud of it. You couldn’t blame him. The Lower Ring was not a place you were fond of either, and the title “refugee” didn’t warrant many perks around here.

“I’m actually a refugee, too.” You said. The boy looked back up at you, his expression unreadable yet again. You looked down into your tea. “I came to Ba Sing Se a few months ago. Can’t say I’ve enjoyed it much, but it’s not all that bad.”

It was silent for a bit. The longer the silence stretched on, the less and less you wanted to make eye contact again. This was incredibly awkward. You found this to be the perfect time to take a sip of your tea, hoping it would act as an excuse as to why you weren’t talking

“What’s your name?” you asked, looking up at him again. A soft smile graced your features, the slightest hint of curiosity stirring in your eyes. 

He took a moment to zone back in before speaking. “Lee. My uncle’s name is Mushi.”

You grinned, giving him yours. “It’s nice to meet you, Lee. Please give my compliments to your uncle, by the way. I’m sure you two get this a lot, but this tea is the best I’ve had in years.”

“Yeah, we do,” he said, rather bluntly at first. You were worried you might have annoyed him for a second, but instead, he smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

Speaking of the man, Mushi was just beside the table, a plate of cakes in his hand. 

“Tell me what?” he asked, a smile 

You looked over at his uncle, giving him a bright smile.

“Just how delicious this tea is,” you mused. “I think it might genuinely be the best in Ba Sing Se.”

“Well,” Mushi beamed, placing the plate on the table. “The secret ingredient is love.” He sent a knowing look to Lee, who scrunched up his face at his uncle’s comments. Mushi chuckled, walking to another table to check on one of the customers. Lee sighed, whether in exasperation or relief you couldn’t tell He looked towards you again.

“I probably need to get back to work.”

You nodded. “I understand. Thank you for the tea.”

Lee turned away, going to the back of the shop to clear some tables. Your eyes followed him along the way. You hoped you left the right impression. He didn’t seem to be completely annoyed by you and you were sure his uncle liked you. That’s a start. 

You let your thoughts drift away, still looking over at him, only to snap back when he looked up at you and made eye contact. . His cheeks became just the faintest shade of pink, and he immediately looked back down. You did the same, your cheeks becoming warm as you smiled. That blush had to mean something good.

For a moment, things in the tea shop were peaceful. You were enjoying yourself, feeling confident in what you chose to spend your bonus on. Lee had a subtle smile on his face, clearing off a now empty table. Mushi was chatting up the customers, discussing tea and using his charm up on the locals. Everything was fine, at least as fine as it could be.

And then the door slammed open.

“I’m tired of waiting!” 

All eyes in the room were now locked on the newcomer, the one who shouted; he was another boy your age, but he seemed to be the polar opposite to Lee. His skin was darker and much more tan, with his hair long and scruffy. He didn’t seem happy to be there. He lifted his hand, pointing all the way to the back of the shop at Lee and Mushi, who both looked very confused.

“These two men are firebenders!”

The stranger unsheathed two swords from his sides, stepping forward in a fighting stance. You immediately stood up from your table, spilling the cup of tea over, and cowered into the wall, wanting to keep a safe distance between you and the boy. The other patrons stood as well. In the other corner of the room, a man held his arms up in front of his date, guarding her just in case anything went south. Two men that had been visiting were now looking at the man with wide eyes and worried faces. 

The air around you became tense, fear and confusion clouding your head. Your eyes went back to the men in question. They both looked at each other; they both looked just as confused, their eyes raised in shock. Did they even know this man?

Your left hand drifted to your side, wondering if you had remembered to bring a dagger with you. Unfortunately, like almost every day, you had forgotten. If you made it out of this unscathed, you’d never make that mistake again.

All was silent. Everyone was probably thinking the same things you were. Who was this man? Why did he think Lee and Mushi were firebenders? How am I going to leave if he’s blocking the only exit? Your attention was locked on him, waiting to see what his next move was. 

The stranger at the door began to speak again.

“I know they’re firebenders! I saw the old man heating his tea!”

Your brow quirked slightly at that. This was a tea shop. Of course he would be heating some tea.

Apparently you weren’t the only one that thought this, as one of the guards responded making the same point.

The boy looked at the guard. “He’s a firebender, I’m telling you!”

His swords swung up fast, causing you to flinch slightly. The room was getting nervous, and the two guards at the table stood.

“Put your swords down, boy. Nice and easy.”

The man ignored them, turning back to Lee and Mushi, holding up his swords in an “X” shape. He slowly began to approach, speaking with a shake in his voice. “You’ll have to defend yourselves… then everyone will know.”

You weren’t liking the way this was going. The guards didn’t cause the boy to back down at all, only seeming to provoke him even further. 

It occurred to you that you could just leave now. He was no longer blocking the door, and it wouldn’t take much effort to just slip away into the night. But you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why, but you couldn’t. Maybe you were curious to see how it all played out. Maybe you were just too scared to try and make a move like that yet. Maybe you were just worried about everyone else’s safety.

You couldn’t tell and it wasn’t that important anyways. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Go ahead,” the boy with swords began to taunt, looking directly at the two of them. “Show them what you can do.”

It was a dare. A jab at their pride. You could tell by the mocking tone that laced the boy’s words. He was confident they were going to use their bending, so confident that it bordered on cocky. By now, he had gotten so close to the two, that the guard began to unsheathe his own swords. Things were going to get ugly. Maybe now was a good time to reconsider that running option. 

You heard other footsteps, your train of thought breaking as you realized Lee was stepping forward, a glare on his face.

“You want a show?” he asked, unsheathing the guard’s swords for himself. “I’ll give you a show!”

He pulled the swords apart from each other, entering a fighting stance that didn’t look like anything a tea shop worker would know. His leg stuck out to the side, hooking on the leg of a table and pulling it in front of him. He kicked it, sending it flying towards the stranger. 

The stranger didn’t hesitate, flipping over it and slicing it so hard that the table sliced in half, with stray pieces of wood flying across the room. You felt a chunk of wood smack you in the face, slicing your cheek as you winced. You cupped it, feeling blood begin to warm your fingers as it dripped from the cut. 

The clashing of swords diverted your attention back to the fight. Lee expertly avoided the boy’s attack, jumping onto the table previously occupied by the guards. Before he could counter his next move, though, the boy sliced through that table too, the wood once again cutting perfectly in half. Lee stumbled, the boy cutting away at each side even more, aiming at his legs. Lee jumped expertly in the air, dodging the boy’s attacks.

You had made very few assumptions about Lee and already felt you had severely underestimated him.

In a quick blur of a moment, the boy had somehow managed to kick Lee back so hard that it broke down the door. You and the rest of the people inside the tea shop rushed to the front, trying to see how things were escalating. Mushi was at the door, most likely worried about the safety of his nephew as the fight stretched on.

The stranger was gaining a slight upper hand, taking advantage of Lee’s disoriented state after having smashed through the door. He swung down at him, his hooks being blocked last minute by Lee’s blades.

The stranger had a grin on his face. “You must be getting tired of using those swords.” He tilted his head, continuing with, “why don’t you go ahead and firebend at me?”

Once again, he was trying to provoke some kind of action out of Lee, trying to exhaust his efforts so that he’d be theoretically forced to firebend at him. It was crazy.

The fight went on, Lee retaliating as best he could. Mushi called out, addressing the stranger, “Please, son, you’re confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

His pleas were ignored, the fight continuing with even more vigor. They backed down the street, getting closer and closer to a large square surrounding a well. Mushi began to walk out of the doorway, following the two men as they fought. The rest of the patrons weren’t far behind, some worrying for the safety of the two and others, such as the guards, keeping an eye out for when they’d need to intervene. Your eyes were still glued on Lee, your feet unconsciously moving you along towards him. The strange boy began to taunt Lee once more, this time bringing Mushi into the mix.

“Bet you wish he helped you out with a little fire blast right now!” 

He hooked one of his swords on the other, spinning and swinging the swords around like whips. Lee backed away, slamming one of his own swords through the handle of the stranger’s.

“You’re the one who needs help!” Lee yelled, pulling back his swords in a defensive position as the boy recovered, about the swing again. Lee was one step ahead, swinging at the young man’s neck. The young man threw his head back, the sword swiping just above his head, so quick and so clean that a blue streak sparked as it sliced the grass he held between his teeth.

The boy arched forward, flipping back and landing on the edge of the well. He called out to the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight progress.

“You see that? The Fire Nation is trying to silence me!” He looked around at the crowd, the people all staring up at him in confusion. He then turned back to Lee, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “It’ll never happen.”

He reached back and hooked his sword on the wooden bar, swinging back and jumping forward at Lee. 

You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. Neither Lee nor the stranger seemed tired out enough to give the other a good chance at victory, and nobody, not even the guards, was attempting to interfere. Your cheek was beginning to really bother you and you knew that if you didn’t get home soon, you’d most likely wake up late for work tomorrow.

“Mushi, is Lee going to be alright?” you asked, your hands holding your sides. Mushi looked back at you and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure my nephew will be alright.” He turned back to the fight, his smile faltering a bit. “It’s the other young man that I’m worried about. Lee is not one to back down easily.” 

You looked up at Lee again, watching him strategically block each attack made by the stranger. You huffed, beginning to back away, until you saw the crowd to begin to disperse.

“Drop your weapons!” a stern voice called out.

The Dai Li had finally made their appearance.

The boys slow down their fighting, backing away from each other. Neither of them took their eyes off the other, swords still held out defensively, just in case anything else escalated. The stranger spoke first.

“Arrest them!” he called out. “They’re firebenders.”

Mushi was quick to respond, his voice relaxed as he said, “this poor boy is confused. We’re just simple refugees.”

You looked one of the Dai Li agents in the eye and nodded, hoping it would help to have someone agree. Others apparently had the same idea, as the manager came to their defense as well.

“This young man wrecked my tea shop and assaulted my employees!” He pointed over at you, more specifically the cut on your cheek. “He even injured one of my customers!”

The guards that Lee got his swords from nodded. “It’s true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest teamaker in the city.”

Mushi awed, blushing.

“That’s very sweet.”

The Dai Li agents walked up to the stranger, one on each side of him. 

“Come with us son.”

The boy gritted his teeth, quickly swinging the sword in his right hand behind him to strike the Dai Li, only for it to land right in the palm of one. The agent twisted his arm back, the other helping to restrain him with their gloves made of Earth. Once they were sure he was unable to break free, they began to drag him back, the crowd dispersing and revealing a detainment cart. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the young man. You hadn’t ever heard anything good about the Dai Li. People who were taken into their custody either never came back or never came back the same. It was why you wanted to avoid them as much as possible, as detainment rates were especially high among refugees, at least from what you had heard.

You watched as the boy looked around desperately. “You don’t understand, they’re Fire Nation! You have to believe me!”

The crowd and you could only watch in silence as he was pulled into the cart, the back doors shutting on him. By now, most of the crowd was dispersing, none paying any particular attention to the boy anymore. You squeezed your sides, frowning, wondering what would come of the boy. 

Mushi sighed, shaking his head and turning towards you. “Are you alright, Miss?

You glanced up, giving him a soft smile. “I’m fine, thank you. Do you remember how much my order was?”

“Please,” you heard behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see the manager of the tea shop there, smiling sympathetically. “The tea is free of charge. Consider it an apology for all of the ruckus.”

You shook your head, blushing slightly. “Thank you, that’s very kind, but tables are not cheap to replace.” You pulled out half of the cash you had brought that night and handed it to him with a smile. “If you need to replace any of your dishes, feel free to visit Miss Kang’s Pottery Shop. I can make sure you receive a discount.”

He nodded and wished you a good night, walking into the shop to inspect the damage. Mushi followed, leaving you by yourself. Well, not completely anyway.

You looked back at where Lee had been fighting, watching Lee hand back the swords to the guards he had taken them from.

“You’ve got some serious skill, son. You should consider applying to the police academy, you could seriously make a difference.”

Lee didn’t go as far as to smile, but he did nod and give a small thank you. The guards waved goodbye, and Lee began to walk back to the shop, his mind clearly somewhere else. You watched him come up to you, deciding to talk to him again.

“Are you alright? That fight was… pretty intense.”

He began to focus again, looking at you. “I’m alright, just a little worn out.”

You smiled, a wave of relief washing over you. “That’s good.”

He nodded. “Actually, you seem like you got more hurt than I did. Is that cut okay?”

You blushed, placing a hand over your cheek, feeling the dry blood that had stuck to your face. “Yeah. It stings a bit, but I’ve got some stuff at home that should help.”

“That’s… that’s good,” he said a bit awkwardly. You chuckled softly, walking over to his side so you could go inside with him. 

When you got inside, the manager and Mushi immediately stopped the two of you.

“Hold on you two,” the manager began. 

“Young lady, considering all of the ruckus that has taken place tonight, I was wondering if you’d mind letting Lee escort you home,” Mushi asked, a considerate look on his face.

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping slightly as you began to blush. You didn’t want to force Lee into any kind of position like that, especially since you had literally met less than an hour ago.

“W-well I… I’m not sure if that would be necessary, sir, especially since you might need Lee to help clean up the shop,” you stammered, looking over at Lee who was equally confused and uncertain about this.

“No, no, I insist. Lee would have no problem walking such a kind girl to her home, especially after the night being so inconveniencing for you.”

You literally got scratched on the face, why was everyone acting like you had lost a limb?

A pink flush came over Lee’s face, his eyes looking anywhere but you as the manager and Mushi began to corner you both to the door.

“Please be careful, but be sure to take your time! The night is beautiful, no need to waste it!” 

And with that, you both were shoved onto the path outside of the shop, the once busy street now completely empty except for the two of you. Your face was hot and red, unable to look up from your feet below you. Lee was looking to the side, from what you could tell, and you had no idea what he was thinking. He was probably annoyed, angry even that he was now stuck with you. First, the crazy kid accused him of being a fire bender of all things and now his uncle and boss were making him babysit you.

He wasn’t looking at you, and he wasn’t moving either. Maybe you could just book it, give him an excuse to go back in and never go to the shop again. Maybe you could just disappear and he wouldn’t make you out to be a burden. Maybe you could just apologize and leave, then go home and forget this whole night had never happened. Perhaps that would be best.

A sigh leaving your companion’s lips quickly made that decision for you, though.

“So… where do you live?” 

~

It had gotten really late. Most of the city was already asleep, with their lights off and windows shut. If it weren’t for the stars that hung up above, you probably wouldn't be able to see the path in front of you. You and Lee had been walking for quite some time now, not a word passing between the two of you. You took a breath, deciding that it was time you said something.

“You were very impressive in that fight back there.”

His eyes widened a bit as he looked over at you, probably surprised you had said something.

“Oh, um… thanks.”

“Where did you learn to do all of that?” 

He shrugged. 

“I’ve picked up a few things from my uncle.”

You smiled.

“Was he a guard where you used to live?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes lost in thought. 

“Sort of.”

You looked back down at the ground, not knowing where to take the conversation from there.

You sighed, your cheerful demeanor sinking. You stopped walking, holding your forehead with your hand and taking in a deep breath. Lee took a few more steps before he realized you had stopped. He turned towards you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You looked up at him with tired eyes and began to speak. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be bothering you so much. I haven’t had anyone to talk to for a while now, I guess I just got a bit ahead of myself.”

He took a minute to think before responding. “Do you not live with anyone?”

You shook your head, frowning slightly. “No. My family sent me away from our village by myself. It was urgent and they didn’t have enough money for all of us to come to Ba Sing Se.”

You blinked, looking at the path in front of you with a blank stare.

“I haven’t heard from them in months. I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep, painful breath, beginning to walk again.

“Thank you for walking me this far. I can get home just fine from here.”

It was a moment before you heard his footsteps begin to pick up again behind you. Your face contorted into one of confusion, as suddenly Lee was by your side again. You opened your mouth to speak again, about to insist that he didn’t need to walk with you, but he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he began, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not very good with people.”

You hummed, a small smile returning to your lips.

“It’s alright. I’m not exactly a people person, either. I shouldn’t have been so pushy with you in the first place.”

“You weren’t that pushy. At least compared to some people I’ve met.”

You chuckled, feeling a little less nervous being around him.

“Thank you. I’m glad I don’t come across that way,” you mused.

He nodded, and for the next few minutes, you both walked together in silence, with you guiding him down the paths you needed to take home and him being vigilant for any crooks that might’ve been hiding out somewhere. After a while, he brought up conversation again.

“How old are you, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I’m about fifteen. You?”

“Sixteen.”

“You look like you’d be older,” you said, though it came out the wrong way you meant it to. “Not in, like, a bad way, though! Like you just seem more mature, I guess.”

“Um, yeah, I could say the same about you.”

Right, you still looked exhausted. You sighed, reaching up to rub the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly look all that youthful right now. I haven’t slept much lately and work has just been really difficult.

His eyes widened as he began to stammer. “No, not like I think you look old or anything, you look plenty young! It’s just, you look like you could be sixteen or seventeen.”

You gave him a thankful smile, though it wasn’t all that genuine. “Thank you, but I’d have to disagree.”

He looked away from you, unsure of what to say next. You didn’t quite know what to say either, so you changed the subject.

“Hey, I’m sorry if this question bothers you, but did you know that young man that attacked you in the tea shop?”

“Why do you ask?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit stupid for asking. “Well, I don’t know. He just seemed to have recognized you from somewhere else.”

Lee sighed, fiddling with the string on his apron absentmindedly.

“Yeah. We came to Ba Sing Se on the same ferry. He told me about how the Fire Nation killed his parents and such. Then he saw my uncle buy a cup of tea from a vendor and I guess he just thought he firebended somehow.”

You frowned, feeling just a little bit bad about what happened to the boy.

“No wonder he was so dead set on attacking you. He’s probably traumatized.”

He huffed. “Yeah. Probably.”

Your mind kept going back to the young man being dragged back and thrown into the cart with the Dai Li, a knot beginning to form in your stomach. It didn’t seem like Lee knew the gravity of being put into the custody of the Dai Li and just how terrifying of a sentiment it was to you.

“I don’t take it you know much about the Dai Li, do you?” you asked, cautiously, as if anybody could be listening to you right now, as they actually very well could.

He looked over at you with narrowed eyes.

“My uncle has told me enough that I know not to mention the war, but other than that, I can’t say I do.”

You sighed, looking around you for any places someone could be hiding or listening.

“Whenever someone is taken by the Dai Li, they either don’t come back or they don’t come back the same. There have been cases where men who were in the Dai Li’s possession were released with no idea who their own families were. It’s really unsettling and it’s one of those things I hate about being a refugee here.”

He nodded. “I can see why. I don’t understand what the Earth Kingdom would have to gain from banning the mention of the war, though.”

“Neither do I, but it happens nonetheless.”

The conversation could’ve gone on for hours at that point, but by now, you had finally reached your quaint, little apartment. You stopped at the door and turned to him fully, folding your hands together and smiling. 

“Well,” you said quietly, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Thank you for walking me home, Lee. It was really nice meeting you.”

He nodded. “It was nice meeting you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t give the best first impression.”

You giggled quietly, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I’m definitely going to be visiting the tea shop again soon, so I wouldn’t say you left a horrible impression on me.”

“I’m sure my uncle will be happy to hear that.”

you smiled, taking your key out of your pocket and unlocking your door. Lee took that as his cue to leave, turning away from you and beginning to walk down the road you both took. You opened your door just a little bit, glancing over your shoulder back at Lee. You puffed your cheeks out a bit as you left the door ajar, walking over to him and calling out his name.

He turned back to face you, his face blushing a soft pink when he realized how close you were. With that, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek, whispering a meek “goodbye” before running back into your house.

You slammed the door, your face hot and bright red as butterflies soared around your chest. You groaned, sliding down the door and hiding your face in your hands. You couldn’t tell if you felt more euphoric or embarrassed. Whatever, it didn’t matter right now. You’d leave the shame and embarrassment to your future self, as right now, you were exhausted and needed to go to bed.

What a way to end the day.

[marlahey]

under the same roof part two: an old friend

a harry styles rpf part two of six  ratings/warnings: the stalking comes to an alarming head via chase, suggestion of violent intent, aggressive emotions, fuck the patriarchy notes: things get serious, intimacy occurs, we all suffer. moments were edited or cut to reinforce the utter lack of actual romance in a real stalking situation, but I promise we’ve made up for it in later parts!  fun fact: on a lighter note, this series should probably just be titled: sweet things that have actually occurred to annie that she forgot she wrote in and so suffers in every edit session. 

masterlist | part one | part three (14.12.2020) ... • friday, 4th january 8:34 pm • Blood roars in your ears as you sprint through the parking garage, but the sound isn’t loud enough to drown out the pounding footfalls that aren’t your own. Every gulp of air burns your throat but you can’t stop, you can’t even slow down. The hum of industrial ceiling lights overhead is the only other sound. No one would hear you scream.

You’d heard the second car door after yours, and the initial footsteps. A quick turn of your head was your worst fear realized: the blue-eyed man beelining towards you, so quickly you’d barely had a chance to try and outpace him. A heavy hand landed on your shoulder as the man grabbed a fistful of your cardigan before yanking back on the fabric. Twisting desperately against his hold, you’d heard a faint pop-pop-pop as the stitching around your collar snapped and gave. You’d practically fallen away from him before scrambling upright, sliding with little traction on the dusty concrete beneath your feet, and bolting towards the open center of the lot. Your breath pours out into the air. There are no security cameras. Why are there no security cameras? A white, hot panic inside your head makes it hard to think, but you must. You can’t take the lift as it leads to a dead end, so it’ll have to be the stairs. The torn neck of your sweater leaves one of your shoulders naked to the cold. You came so close to draping a scarf around your shoulders before you left your apartment this morning. Had you kept it on, you could have been dead by now. You tear through the door to the stairwell at the other end of the garage and take the steps by two. At any moment an obstacle could arise—a locked door, a dead phone battery, a hard fall on the stairs—and that would be it for you. You’d be a gruesome headline or a face on a milk carton. You would never see your siblings, or India, or Chowder, or your parents ever again. Hot tears sting the corners of your eyes. On the last flight of stairs before the lobby, the sound of the stairwell door slamming echoes up the passageway. You look instinctively. A black, gloved hand is making its way up the railing. You almost lose your balance bursting through to the lobby, and even though your legs are screaming, you do what all the brochures have ever told you to do and break into another full-fledged run to the lift around the corner. You wish you’d chosen a building with a doorman or security desk—some kind of human checkpoint. “No, no, no,” you beg under your breath, launching an arm between the closing doors. You stumble, half expecting it to be empty, and find yourself face to face with Harry.  His eyes skim you over, widening from behind his glasses. You’re still clinging to the doors of the lift. Down the hall and around the bend, the door to the stairwell bangs open again; you wince. Harry’s eyebrows knit together. Thinking on your feet, you lurch inside and drag your hand along the keypad, illuminating just about every random floor up to the penthouses in the twenties, but not eight, and nothing before it. Harry’s eyes dart between yours and the doors. The footsteps in the hall behind you grow louder. You smash the close door button a dozen times, but something in you knows it’s a lost effort. You rush forward and tuck yourself into Harry’s side, tearing his name tag off and stuffing it in your bag. He startles, twisting to look at you, but you stick to your guns and slip your arm around his back. A moment later your eyes meet in the vaguely distorted metallic reflection above the keypad. Harry’s eyes are full of questions; a plea is in yours. For a second time, the doors of the lift begin to close but are stopped by an interjecting hand. A third body enters. It is him. That yellow-grey hair, the wrinkles and the scar on his lip, the worn, leathery skin… Immediately, the man turns to stare at you, and scoffs. You jump, your hand instinctively grasping the back of Harry’s jacket. You will your knees to be still. The lift doors close. It is silent until the car lurches upward. Suddenly you feel a warm, heavy pressure across your shoulders. In the reflection of the doors, you watch Harry’s arm wrap around you. He squeezes once. Your frantic gaze is pinned down by his much more fixed one. He feels so solid pressed into your side, and his eyes are solemn behind his glasses. More serious, maybe, than you’ve ever seen in the last year.  Harry’s lips quirk—the suggestion of a smile—before he looks down at his feet: a ruse of casual nonchalance. Your stomach twists.  The blue-eyed man sighs impatiently. Harry moves his hand to your waist and pulls you even tighter into his side. The car bounces to a stop on the sixth floor with a ding. As the doors glide open, it dawns on you that you had not thought this all the way through to the end. Do you go with Harry? What if you put Sylvia in danger? What if the man follows you? Harry’s arm drops from your shoulders.  The same white hot panic from the garage sears behind your eyes. Is this it? Is Harry about to leave you alone to your fate?  You almost miss his hand reaching back for you, like it’s something he does all the time. Harry squeezes, hard enough to nearly be painful. It starts you into motion. Your legs feel stiff and inflexible like they can’t remember how to walk as he pulls you along, keeping himself between you and the blue-eyed man. You’re off.  The doors close.  Harry glances over his shoulder, your hand still tight in his. He gently guides you to walk in front of him, and you shudder at the thought of the man still watching. You do not hear a third pair of footsteps trailing you, and you do not dare turn around to check. There’s something eerie in walking down a hall identical to your own but knowing that none of these doors are yours.  “This is me.” Harry’s voice is low around the jingle of his keys as he nods to the only door in the hallway hung with a wreath. You say nothing as he steps aside to let you through. He peers into the hall one last time once you’re both inside before locking the door, deadbolt, and chain guard. You lean your back against the wall with your arms across your chest, clutching your sides. He looks over at you slowly, hesitates, and takes a step toward you. His Adam's apple bobs. Suddenly the air leaves your lungs entirely and you begin to heave. You feel as though you’d been sprinting on a treadmill for an hour and then stopped immediately, which keeps you from realizing that Harry has been saying your name. Tears gather in your eyes again; if you allowed yourself to blink, they would spill over. You begin to sink against the wall. Harry catches your elbows in his hands, but you keep sinking anyway. He follows you all the way down to the floor. “Sorry,” you gasp. “You’re safe.” Harry just shakes his head. “I’ve got you.” You nod and try to send a few deep breaths to the pit of your stomach, then clear your throat. “Call the police.” Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet, flicking on light switches and digging his phone from out of his bag. You hear, “Yes, hello. I’d like to report… following my neighbor.” Your mind reels.  Harry’s voice sounds almost distorted, like you’re underwater. “In my apartment with me.” You catch, “...followed her into the lift,” as well as “Yes,” and “No,” to a series of questions before he reappears with a concentrated frown, watching you. “She’s safe.”  You pick yourself up off the floor and Harry gestures to the small two-person dining table. He angles his cellphone down to his chest as he’s pulling the chair out for you. “Do you want to speak with them?” he whispers. You take a deep breath and nod, holding out your hand. Your fingers tremble, so you place it face up on the table instead and turn on the speaker. He may as well find out now; you can’t imagine having to explain all this a second time.  “Hello?” “Hello, my name’s Officer Warren. We hear you’ve had quite a scare tonight. I know it’s hard, but try to stay as calm as possible and just answer a few questions for me as best you can.”  The fact that the dispatcher is a woman comforts you. “Okay.” “Are you injured?” “No.” “Can you just confirm your full name for me? And your address?”  You rattle off your details, noting with strange detachment that you and Harry live precisely two floors apart. His flat is 6F; yours is 8F. “How long have you lived there?” “Almost a year.” “And how long have you been in the UK?” “About two and a half years. I’m a student at UCL.” “I understand you’re with a neighbor. Do you feel as though you’re in immediate danger?” You look up at Harry before your eyes dart to his front door, hesitating for longer than you want to. “No.” “Can you tell me what’s happened?” You close your eyes. “A man tried to grab me in the parking garage.” “Was this a man you’ve met before?” “He’s been following me since June. I see him everywhere I go. It happened the first few times in public places like on my walk home or when I go jogging, but then I started seeing him everywhere.” Your eyes open again. “Like, I’ve seen him on campus and in restaurants where I was eating. He was walking behind me the first time I ever went to Ilford for work, which is completely out of my way. He took the same tube as me once and tried to grab my hand.” You hear Harry’s knuckles crack across the table from you. “And how long ago was that?” “December twentieth.” “Have you ever come to the police with this information?” “Yes. I filed a report at the Lavender Hill station on the first of October and we went through some headshots but none of them were him.” You hear a series of keystrokes. “Yes, I see your file here. And can you describe what happened today?” “I was picking up some archives at the Ilford Historical Society–” “For school?” “Yes. I’m a research assistant. They have a postbox under my advisor’s name. I usually pick up the archives for the week on Thursdays, but I didn’t get around to it until a few hours ago. It’s usually just three or four storage boxes but today there was a sealed yellow envelope—” Your voice runs higher, choked. You turn away from Harry as you swallow another wave of emotion, but your voice is hardly any different when you begin speaking again. When you turn back, Harry’s hand is a little closer to yours on the table. “Today there was this big yellow envelope with my name handwritten on it and I figured it was just something from my advisor, so after I carried everything to the car, I opened it, and it… there were all these pictures of me.” “Are you able to tell where these photos were taken? What you were doing in them?” Your bag sits half open on the table beside you; you can tell without looking that Harry’s followed your eyes to the mustard yellow envelope poking out the top. You don’t want to open it again. You don’t have to. The images are burned behind your eyelids. “There’s one of me on the tube looking at my phone. Another one of me leaving the shops. There’s a few at the gym.” You sniffle. “Most of them are taken through the window of my flat. They must’ve been across the street because you can see me through the blinds and I’m—when I don’t…” You stare at the edge of the table. “When I’m undressing.”  You lean your forehead into your hand. Harry is stock still across from you. The pause before the officer speaks again feels like it stretches forever. “Can you tell when the most recent photo was taken?” It takes a beat to admit, “It’s from two nights ago,” and the words taste bitter in your mouth. The clack of a keyboard is audible again through the phone.  “You said you’ve been to the Lavender Hill station before? Have you reported these photos yet?” You gather your thoughts. “I was going to go straight there, but I wrote these long descriptions of all the past times I’d seen him. The officer I spoke to the first time I went in, she told me to write down absolutely everything I remembered, so I did—the times of day I’d seen him, where I was, what I was wearing… She said having my own record would help my chances of opening an investigation. I keep all of that at home in my flat, so I decided to go home and grab my notes to bring with me to the station, along with the pictures. I borrow my best friend’s car to commute to Ilford, so I drove straight home.” “And what happened when you got home? In the car park?” You take a deep breath. And then another. Your eyes squeeze shut again. “Take all the time you need.” “I turned into the car park… I pulled into my usual spot. I took off my jacket and left it in the passenger seat, thinking I would come back to it in a minute. I got out of the car and locked it… ” You swallow dryly. “I heard a car door shut behind me. I turned around and saw the man—I recognized him.” “Do you remember what he was wearing?” “He was wearing, um, black gloves, a grey sweater, black jeans, and I think his shoes were black too.” You frown at your hands. “I could hear how quickly he was walking up behind me. I tried to get away, and he—” You swallow. “He grabbed me. Or at least, he tried. He tore the seam of my sweater and I managed to like, pull away. And then I just ran. I was too scared to try the lift so I just took the stairs all the way up to the lobby. But he followed me.”  Your eyes flicker up to Harry absently before you go on. “Harry was in the lift—the—my neighbor, so I ran over and put my arm around him to make it seem like I wasn’t alone.” Harry nods at you from across the table.  “And the man was able to follow you into the lift?” The tips of your fingers ache at the memory of slamming desperately into the close door button. “Yes.” “Did he try to communicate with you in any way?” You shake your head and then remember she can’t see you. “No. He was just staring at me.” “Has he ever approached you or tried to make contact before?” “Just the one time on the tube and the pictures.” “Were you followed out of the lift?” “No.” “And you’re in your neighbor’s flat now, is that right?” “Yeah.” You run your sleeve beneath your nose with a sniffle. “And the man knows which floor you got off at?” ”Correct.” “Do the windows in both of your flats face out on the same street?” Your stomach drops. “Yes… They do.” “I want you to remain calm and stay on the line, can you do that for me?” It’s deadly quiet as you and Harry look at each other. You feel eerily as though you’ve wound up in a Hitchcock film. “Yes.” “Move away from the windows and find a place in the flat that’s not visible from the street—” The legs of Harry’s chair are scraping the floor before you get the chance to react. “...and do not turn out any lights or change the way any of the blinds are positioned.” “C’mere.” Harry’s voice is gravely urgent. He leads you to the kitchen with a hand between your shoulder blades, and brushes past you to lower the blinds of a small window above the sink. Your eyes widen as your hand reaches toward him. “Harry—” He glances back, too late. “Don’t… ” You stumble. “Don’t fix any more of those.” He nods once.  “Yes, don’t touch the blinds. Don’t change anything that would make it look out of the ordinary. If someone has been staking out your building from the same place across the street every night, you could give yourself away and put you both at risk.” “Okay.” Harry leans against the sink with his arms crossed, and you mirror him.  “Since you already have a file on record and the whereabouts of this man are still uncertain, it might do more harm than good to have you come in again for questioning at this hour. But we’ll need you to come by first thing in the morning. You absolutely cannot go back to your flat tonight. He knows very well which unit is yours, and he’s clearly found access into the building somehow. Do not turn on the lights, do not fuss with the blinds, do not go to retrieve any belongings. If it’s something dire, an officer can escort you.” “Okay.” “And don’t leave the building, either. If you need a place to stay, there’s a section of the precinct that can hold you till morning. An officer will have to drive you there, too.” “Okay,” you parrot. “Listen carefully. It’s not forever, but right now we need you to keep yourself absolutely out of sight. Anything that could result in your being followed… Well, we would strongly advise against your taking unnecessary risks. We obviously want to keep you and anyone else involved as safe as possible.” “I understand.” “A patrol officer is en route to your address. He’ll stay posted outside the building for a few hours. If something happens, don’t hesitate to call. Is this a number we can redial if need be?” You look up to Harry; he nods fiercely. “Yes.” “Try to get some rest. You’re safe now, and we’ll see you first thing in the morning.” “Thank you, officer.” You pass Harry’s phone back to him before digging through your bag to retrieve your own. The dial tone rings in your ear as you turn to face the living room. You’re sent to voicemail. “Uh… hi, Mom. It’s me. Just give me a call back when you get this, okay? I—um… Everything’s fine I should just… give you an update, so. Anyways. Talk soon. Love you.” You set your phone down on the counter, but can’t manage to meet his eyes. Some part of you had been worried that he would judge you—or worse, pity you. He doesn’t speak, nor does he try to touch you. Your eyes are pulled towards two sets of rainbow-painted handprints stuck to Harry’s fridge—one large, one tiny. A wave of nausea washes over you at the imposition you’ve entitled yourself to, the risk involved, the implications.  “Thank you.” Harry jumps at the sound of your voice. “For everything. I should—” you loop an arm through the strap of your bag— “I should go.” “Woah, woah, woah… ” Harry catches your arm before you can take three steps. You freeze. He releases you immediately. “And go where? You heard the officer, yeah?” He’s shaking his head slowly. “You can’t go back to your flat.” “I did hear her,” you counter. It comes out more curt than you had meant it. “There’s a safe place for me to sleep at the precinct… Thank you again, I can show myself out.” “That’s ridiculous—” You turn away and he says your name, once, imploring. It’s more of a plea than a demand, keeping you still. You still have your eyes on the door, but since you’re no longer moving, Harry goes on.  “You can stay here, it’s fine. I’ve got a spare bed n’ all. You can sleep in Vi’s room.” Your resolve wavers. His voice is a pitch softer as he asks, “What is it?” Your mouth hangs open a moment before you can find the right words. “I don’t—we don’t…” We don’t know each other seems far too accusatory with everything that’s transpired between you, especially after tonight. You grind your teeth, reeling the words back. Harry’s fingers touch your elbow, hesitating, and when you don’t pull away he wraps his hand gently around your arm. Tears well up in your eyes and you can’t blame them on the guilt, fear, or relief alone… all of it at once leaves you itching to escape.  “We’re practically strangers,” you settle on finally. “I put you in danger, and I put your family in danger—” Harry’s thumb rotates in tiny circles in the crook of your arm, a touch so light you can barely feel it. You think unbidden of the lift on New Year’s Eve, and the brush of his lips over yours. You want to fall headlong back into that memory—to abate what is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of your life. “I’m Harry.”  You blink. “What?” He smiles at you—a quick, sanguine flicker of a thing. “I’m Harry… Styles. I’m twenty-six. I graduated from Kings with a Bachelors in Art History and Psychology. I’m an Administrative Assistant to the Director of the National Gallery—” his smile is real now, wider— “But sometimes I pick up shifts keepin’ an eye on the gallery for the extra few quid… I have a daughter named Sylvia. She’s almost five. I get her every other week. I grew up in Cheshire. I have a sister named Gemma and my mum’s name is Anne.” You sniffle. “Why are you telling me all this?” “So you and I aren’t strangers anymore.” You have no idea how to respond. “You’ve never been here before,” Harry continues. “If someone’s been keeping close tabs on our building, then maybe this is the safest place for you right now. If I felt you were putting my daughter in harm’s way—” you open your mouth to speak and he raises a finger— “I would ask you to leave… As it is, if you go now, I feel that I would be putting you in harm’s way… And I don’t want to.” The two of you stand at a stalemate. “Please don’t make me.” Harry lets go of your arm and eventually backs up to lean against the sink again. You could leave if you wanted to. Eventually you sigh and drop your bag down to the kitchen floor with a thud. “Are you hungry?” Harry asks. “I was gonna fix something for myself anyway.” You shake your head. “I don’t think I could eat anything right now.” The more powerful urge is to erase this night from memory, to scrub away the feeling of a rough hand on your shoulder. You absently rub your thumb into the sleeve of your shirt where the grime from the door to the stairwell had smeared. Your shoulder is still bare from the gaping hole. Harry tilts his head, as if he’s going to say something more, but you blurt, “Could I use your shower actually?” “Of course.” He leads you to the end of a brief hallway with three adjacent doors, only one of which is open. “Be back in a sec.” Harry emerges moments later with two folded towels, then flicks on the light as you trail behind him. Your eyes are immediately drawn to Harry in the broad mirror that covers the entire wall above the sink. His bathroom is virtually identical to yours, but it’s striking to see his familiar reflection somewhere outside of the lift.  Harry pushes aside the curtain to the shower. “Fuck.”  He sets the towels down on the toilet seat and hastily gathers up the army of rainbow rubber ducks lined along the rim of the tub, before yanking off a plastic water wheel suction cupped to the faucet. Clear synthetic stickers in the shape of cartoon rocket ships and planets cling to the shower wall which Harry peels off in a stack before scooping out a myriad of other colorful knick-knacks from the bottom of the tub. “Harry, you don’t have to do that.” “I’m just now realizing how mad this must look to someone who isn’t the parent of a four-year-old—” “Harry, please. You’re already doing so much for me. You don’t need to remodel your bathroom.” “Alright, well… ” Harry rises, brushing his hands down the front of his suit trousers with flushed cheeks and glasses halfway down his nose. He cards his fingers through his hair. “Just be careful not to step on those little sparkly buggers. They’re the most painful by far.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” You have to suppress an laugh at the image of him having stepped on every last toy in the tub enough to compare. “So, like, the red is hot and obviously the blue is cold but it’s very sensitive so I find it’s best to just leave it at about three o’clock—wait you…” Harry shakes his head with a frown. “You probably have the same one, don’t you?” You nod, wringing your hands. “Do you have a shirt or something I could borrow for after?” “Of course,” he almost cuts you off, disappearing into the hallway. You perch on the edge of the tub and run the faucet to adjust the temperature. There’s three raps on the door. “Come in!” you call. Harry squeezes through the door and you catch his eyes in the mirror. “Let me know if these fit.” You watch his reflection lift the clean towels, put down the bundle of clothes, and restack the linens on top with the ease of someone who’s clearly used to taking care of someone else. “Thank you, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He nods and closes the door firmly behind him. Sylvia’s bath wrap, bright yellow and embroidered with her initials, hangs by its duck shaped hood on a hook next to the door. Steam is starting to rise from the shower. You take a deep lungful and step in carefully. Although childrens’ soaps and clutter are unfamiliar, the water pressure is the same as the shower in your apartment, if not better. It pounds down against your back and shoulders, and for a minute you let yourself just stand in the hot spray. It takes several seconds of inner coaxing before you can close your eyes and tilt your head back beneath the water. A hardened blue stare flashes in your mind’s eye, but you push it back determinedly. You think of Harry’s clear, level gaze. You think of the way he’d looked as he pinned a poppy to your chest—as he’d drank from that half-empty bottle of Prosecco.  So you turn your attention to the soap instead. It’s strange to see the source of several of the mingling scents you’ve picked up from him in the lift over so many months, and even more strange to pick the bottles up and use them on yourself. But there’s something cathartic in the act of scrubbing yourself raw, especially the spot on your shoulder where you had to wrench yourself away from that painful grip. By the time the last of the shampoo and soap are swirling down the drain, buoying a tiny rubber duck that Harry had missed, you finally feel a bit more like yourself again.  The towels are in easy reach. You wrap your hair in one, wind the other around your body, and tiptoe across the bathmat, wading through a junkyard of toys. A hotel toothbrush packaged in plastic lays atop the pile of clothes Harry had left, so you quickly brush your teeth before giving the bathroom a cursory tidy. You have to roll up the cuffs of his sweatpants to your ankles. You can barely see your own reflection, so you crack open the door to air out the steam a bit. Somewhere a kettle shrieks. You creep into the hall, clutching a neat bundle of your clothes and set your things down on the chest table in the entryway before joining him in the kitchen. Harry has changed out of his work suit and into a plain white tee shirt and grey sweatpants. Sundry, mismatched tattoos are scattered all along his left arm and it catches you by surprise. No rings. You have no idea what to do with yourself, faced with the reality that you’re standing in Harry’s flat, wearing his clothes, smelling like him. You lean gingerly against the counter, sort of surprising yourself as you blurt out, “I thought you said you were hungry?” Harry freezes, like he is both realizing you’re there, and also that he contradicted himself. “Lost my appetite I guess. Tea?” “I’d love some, yeah. If there’s enough water. Thanks.” “Sure.” You watch as Harry pulls down a veritable armada of teabags. “Gotta be prepared,” he says with a vaguely self-deprecating smile. “We take our tea seriously over here. These—” Harry gestures—  “haven’t got caffeine.”  Something tells you that an entire bottle of cold medicine couldn’t knock you out tonight. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” Your phone vibrates against your hip and you pull it out to skim the text from your mom. Hi honey. Sorry I missed your call, hope everything is alright… It’s late for you now so I’ll try back in the morning. Hugs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as guilt taps you on the shoulder. You’re drained and it would be lovely not to rehash tonight’s events for a second time when you know it would do nothing but worry her. Since you’re in reasonably good hands, you lock your phone and shove it back into the pocket of Harry’s sweats. “How do you take it?” Harry murmurs. “With a little bit of milk, if you don’t mind.” He places your tea on the counter beside you before adding the milk. “I don’t mind,” he mocks your accent gently, and it bothers you how good he is at it. Harry passes you the mug. You raise it to your nose and inhale the steam. “Thank you, Harry, for being so… okay with all of this, and for just like, making me feel… ” You trail off, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to have, like, an ounce of normalcy tonight after all that.”  You tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. Harry pushes his glasses up his nose with his thumb and idly plays with the tag hanging by a string over the side of his mug. “I’ve heard you take responsibility a dozen times tonight for the danger that someone else put you in,” he says after a minute. His eyes are vaguely unfocused, and trained on the blinds. “Tonight was not your fault. Like, you were smart, brave and all that, but you shouldn’t have had to be.” He takes a sip. “I’m glad I was there.” Harry doesn’t say anything else. It’s cathartic in a way you wouldn’t have expected, to hear him state it back to you so plainly and without nuance. There’s not a thing you could say to that in defense of the argument that you are indeed to blame. But there were other choices I could have made. I shouldn’t have gone running that morning. I should have known to be more vigilant, buying those groceries. It was reckless of me to choose sheer curtains. I should have apparated to class instead of taking the tube. The logic sounds absurd to you in a new way when held up to the light. You absently stir your tea; there’s an orange tabby painted on the ceramic. “Chowder!” Harry’s eyebrows fly up. “Sorry?” “My cat! He’s all on his own in my apartment.” “Does he have water?” “Yeah, and food. And he's a few years old so he’ll be fine. I just feel awful, he’s never spent the night alone.” You shake your head. “Sorry for making you jump, it just crossed my mind.” “No, it’s okay… Do you want—should I go up and check on him for you?” “No, no. That’s not necessary. I’m just, you know, a terrible cat mom.”  “Ha!” Harry barks. It’s the loudest sound you’ve ever heard him make. “You don’t even want to… Oh Christ,” he shakes his head, creasing with laughter, “You have no idea.” “What?” You ask after a minute, unable to help yourself from joining in his laughter. His face is turning pink. “Do you have any idea how many nappies I’ve put on backwards? How many haircuts I’ve botched? I mean with my real, human child. I assembled both of Sylvia’s cribs upside down because the instructions were in Japanese. One after the other. It was the same fucking crib.” He deadpans your name at you. “Sylvia’s first word was fuck because Daddy couldn’t shake the habit of saying it all the fucking time.” “Oh my god.” “Yeah. We thought she was just a quiet kid, but then we were getting concerned that she wasn’t speaking by her second birthday. We took her to a speech therapist. So imagine you’re me, watching your daughter in her little highchair with her mum right up in her face, going, “Vi can you say ma-ma? And the child throws her binkie… and yells, Fuck!” You’re laughing so hard it’s completely silent.  “Didn’t say it.” He swipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and it bumps up his glasses a little. “Yelled it. Not a thing wrong with her… Oh,” Harry sighs. “Annie wouldn't speak to me for a week.” He shakes his head. “That’s incredible.” “So, like, newsflash… ” He takes a sip of his tea. “Nobody has any idea what they’re doing. There’s no such thing as a perfect parent or, um—cat mum as you said.” “So…” you venture after a pause. “Annie?” Harry laughs once through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright. Fair.” He sets his tea down on the counter. “Thought maybe we’d get to have this conversation over Prosecco,” he says, chuckling dryly. “Sylvia was definitely… unexpected… ” Harry begins delicately. “But she’s, like the funniest person I know and also my favorite person on the planet. So… I dunno. It worked out.” He clears his throat. “She was conceived on the night I met her mum at a pub in Essex and that was that. Haven’t really looked back. Annie—Vi’s mum—is an amazing person. We were never in love or anythin’ even close, but she’s the best co-parent I could ever dream of.”  “Vi’s a cute nickname.” “S’her first name, actually.” Harry smiles over the rim of his mug. “Lanh Vi.” His voice dips low and elongates the first syllable. “Lanh means gentle, happy. Vi is a family name. Annie wanted to give that to her parents, a proper Vietnamese name on her birth certificate. Sylvia’s sort of a good compromise for when she goes to school.”  Harry stares at some middle distance, smiling like he isn’t even aware he’s doing it. “Annie’s parents took a little convincing that any of this was going to work out—mine too—but I love our unconventional little family, and I’m really looking forward to her wedding. Sylvia’s in store for two really incredible mums.” He looks back at you and shrugs. “It’s not such a bad life. Sometimes I wish there was a more exciting answer.” “That doesn’t seem like a bad life at all.” The corners of Harry’s lips drop a little the moment you open your mouth. His head is tilted slightly as though he’s trying to gauge your reaction. You try to mirror the same, reassuring smile he’d given you earlier, then cover a yawn with your hand. “What time is it?” you ask. Harry checks his phone. “Half ten—or just gone.” “No it’s not,” you frown, but he holds up his phone to show you. “Oh god…” “Time flies when you’re talking about parenthood.” He takes your empty mugs, setting them carefully in the sink. “Thank you.” Without turning around Harry announces, “I think I’m gonna have you sleep in my bed and I’ll take the air mattress in Sylvia’s room.” “No.” You shake your head. “Harry I swear if you insist on that, I’m calling a taxi to the police station.” “No, honestly… They’re the only two rooms in the flat with the blinds consistently drawn, and her room’s empty most nights anyway since I’m such a pushover.” It takes a moment for that comment to sink in and when it does you feel your heart melt a little. “You’ll sleep much better in my bed than on my inherited air mattress from the nineties.” “I won’t,” you lie seamlessly. “I don’t sleep well in new places anyway, so at least one of us should get a good night’s rest.” “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” he relents. You’re glad you don’t have to argue about it. “Thank you.” Harry leads you to the linen cabinet in the hallway and removes a cardboard box from the very top shelf. An enormous dust cloud falls like an avalanche down his shirt and he coughs hysterically, scrunching his nose. “Last chance to change your mind,” Harry croaks, wiping his glasses on the front of his shirt. You shake your head and he turns to the door across from his, where his bed is half visible in shadow. The two of you shuffle into a cubby of a room, and Harry drops the box onto the plush pile rug with a thud.  Your neck cranes as you look around the tiny space, about as roomy as the lift. The walls are painted navy blue with silver and gold stars exploding in a galaxy across the walls, and your hand floats to your chest in memory of when Sylvia had pointed at you with a tiny finger, recognizing the shape at the end of the chain hung around your neck. Her bed frame is painted a deep, forest green and the two small pillows upon it are shaped like rain clouds. Plastic dinosaurs of all different sizes and colors line her windowsill. A small, homemade bookshelf is aligned by the bed. “You mind helping me spread it?” Harry’s voice brings you back down to earth, and you grab two corners of the plastic to lay out the mattress like a picnic blanket on the floor. It’s a tight squeeze, but at least it’s a queen. You look down at it with your hands on your hips, and Harry tilts his head, running a hand over his stubble. Harry steps back out into the hallway, ducking into his bedroom. You hear the creak of a closet door and shifting fabric as the beam of light from his room slants across the hall into Sylvia’s, illuminating a diagonal path right up through the wooden slats of her toybox. There’s a small, familiar shadow outline on top. You crouch down to pick up Jojo and his mother in one hand, running your fingers over the soft velvet of their floppy ears. It feels a little odd, to be so comforted by a child’s toy that doesn't even belong to you, but here you are. “I see you’ve found an old friend.”  Harry leans against the doorframe, watching you. His arms are full with a clean sheet, spare pillow, and quilt. The fondness in his voice is hard to miss, but you wonder if it’s for his daughter, for the toy, or for you. “I would’ve thought Sylvia brought him to her mom’s, too.” Harry’s lips twitch with amusement before he puts the pillow and quilt on top of Sylvia’s dresser. “She used to take him everywhere.” He visits every corner of the mattress to tuck the sheet around. “Here, let me help you with—” “No, no, it’s always easier like this before you blow it up.” Harry steps into the corners of the room that aren’t completely swallowed up by the giant, deflated bed. He removes a paper lantern night light with constellation cutouts from its outlet, replacing it with the motor to the air mattress. “This part always takes a bit.” The small plastic box sputters into a whine and the mattress begins to inflate. “Just give it a few minutes… S’ old.” Soft whirring fills the room before he speaks over it. “We almost lost him on a trip to Brighton once—” he nods at Jojo, still in your hands— “Vi was inconsolable until we found him wedged between the bed and the wall in the hotel. Managed to convince her that leaving him at home—or at least only to Bridget’s on the first floor while I’m at work—was the best way to keep him safe.” He steals a glance at you and unfolds the massive quilt on top of the bed as it rises, before fluffing the pillow and tossing it to one of the long ends. “Then she started insisting on leaving him here on the weeks she spends at her mum’s.” “How come?” Harry’s smile is somewhere between pointedly self-deprecating and unbelievably loving. “Says she doesn’t want me to be lonely while she’s gone.”  Before you can fully process all the ways your heart is both warmed and a little broken, Harry is disappearing into the hall again, returning with a throw blanket and fanning it out over the quilt. “Okay.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “That should do it. Do you want another pillow?” He turns to you suddenly, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a couple more on my—” “No, no. This is more than enough… Thank you again, Harry,” You reassure him with the understanding that this is goodnight. Harry runs a hand through his hair and a little puff of dust is drawn out. “If you, um—If you need anything, I’ll be… my bedroom’s just there.” He twists around to point. “Don’t hesitate to like… yeah, wake me up if you need—if you feel… ” He laughs once at himself, exasperated. “Sorry, I’m tired.” You shake your head and smile sympathetically. “So am I.” “Goodnight, then.” Harry backs out into the hallway. He pauses in Sylvia’s doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. At that exact moment, the motor clicks off and the sudden silence feels unbearably loud.  “I want you to feel safe here.” The room is so still that you see the shadow against Harry’s neck bob as he swallows in the yellow light of the hall. His eyes are steady and clear. You take a breath in, and nod. “I do,” you say, steadfast. “I promise… Goodnight, Harry.” He shuts the door behind him. • saturday, 5th january 12:46 am •

There had been a knock, of that much you are sure. One solitary rap jolts you from sleep, followed by the raucous succession of a dozen more as you sit up on the air mattress. It stops for a moment. Then starts up again. “Harry?” you whisper into the blackness, your heart suddenly pounding. In your groggy trance, you weren’t sure the first time you heard it if someone was knocking on the door to Sylvia’s room, but by the time your eyes adjust, you’re sure it’s coming from farther away. It stops. You’re still for a minute, careful not to rustle the quilt. There is no sound apart from a faint siren in the distance. You unplug your phone from where it charges beneath the nightlight, squinting at its bright little face. 12:46. Perhaps it’s a police officer? Surely they would have announced themselves, wouldn’t they? You slide down the mattress and creep up to the door, pressing an ear against the wood. There is nothing but the echo of your own blood rushing in your ear. You have to close your eyes and count to three before turning the doorknob. Harry is already in the hall, the door to his bedroom left gaping. He turns to you and immediately brings a finger to his lips. The sound of an open hand smacking against the front door is unmistakable. Harry inches towards the noise. He freezes suddenly, then twists to look at you, reaching his hand back with fingers outspread. Stay here. Harry rounds the corner out of sight until it becomes unbearable to stand there a moment longer. You tiptoe in his wake, and move at the same time he does. The only light in the flat spills from his open bedroom. Here in hall, the shadows are long and dark and Harry’s expression is harder to make out until he glances over his shoulder. He nods at you once before training his eyes on the door again. Your feet move of their own accord, as though they have unilaterally decided that the safest place for you is as close to Harry as possible. It seems jarring to you, that this man in a tee shirt and boxers is the same man who, not a week ago, seemed like a piece of art with his burgundy suit and damp curls; the memory of loose limbs and laughter clashes against the image of him fraught before you. Harry peers through the peephole. Your eyes are cemented to the back of his head and you begin to feel dizzy, only just realizing you’ve been holding your breath. He tenses. In a freezing rush of dread, you suddenly know exactly who is on the other side of that door. You know you shouldn’t panic. Harry raises a finger to his lips again in another soundless imperative and you know—from a place that feels somewhere outside your body—that the last thing you should be doing is opening your mouth. But this is a terror hurtling beyond fight or flight. Your primary functions are in a deadlock with a searing hysteria clamoring for you to scream, and something desperately carnal that believes you could only survive this moment if you were silent enough.  Harry is still gesturing at you to keep quiet. He turns his back to the door and approaches you, the weight of his gaze keeping you motionless. He reaches forward and presses his palm firmly against your parted lips. All of a sudden you’re just as close as you were in the lift four nights ago when he tasted like brandy and the beginning of something new. The look he had given you on New Year’s was playful and wanting. In this moment, however, a pair of hard and urgent eyes bore into yours, igniting the pit of your stomach with a different kind of fear. Harry wraps his free hand around your wrist. You blink and blink. Beneath the steel resolve in his face, a desperate question forms: Do you trust me? You want to answer but you don’t know how. So you just keep staring. He pushes you backwards, gently, leading you around the corner and down the hall, his hand cupped to your mouth all the while. Even if you’d wanted to glance at the front door, Harry’s gaze is a magnet to your eyes. He walks you all the way into his bedroom, until you feel the mattress on the backs of your knees. You’d fall if not for Harry letting go of your wrist to guide you down with a hand on your waist. His lips move soundlessly around the words, stay here, and you manage to nod. Only then does he release your mouth. Your eyes can only focus on the closet door directly in front of you. It takes every ounce of your concentration to just keep breathing so you don’t pass out as Harry doubles back out into the hall, leaving you on the edge of his bed. You can feel an outbreak of sweat around your temple and on the back of your neck. You know you’re shaking but that feels distant, too.  You have no idea how long Harry is gone, you just know he closes the door upon his return. You’re still trying to pace your breathing as he crouches down in front of you. He has his phone to his ear. You can only catch a few of his words at a time.  “My name is Harry Styles… previously reported an, um, incident involving… yes… no… returned… knocked on the door. No, he’s gone now… I waited, to be sure. But I—” There’s a pause. “I think he’s knocking on every door on this floor.” You hear something like a choked gasp. Only when Harry’s eyes dart to yours do you realize it was you.  You have put the entire building in danger.  “Yes, she’s still here.” His free hand reaches up to your knee as he listens to the dispatcher, but he seems to think better of it at the last moment, worrying the edge of the duvet between his fingers instead. “Right, yes. I understand. I will. Thank you.”  Faint ringing replaces the feeling of water in your ears.  “They’re sending someone,” he murmurs after hanging up. “He’s gone.” You hear that broken gasp again. “He’s gone, I promise.” Your shoulders cave inward when you feel the full, painful heave of your sob. Tears stream down your cheeks as you cover your face. Harry’s hand lifts again. You shrink away and he immediately moves from you to stand. “I’ll be—”  You seize at the first part of him you can reach, grasping a weak fistful of his soft cotton tee. Harry is completely still beneath your trembling fingers. He doesn’t pull away or move closer. He just hovers there, steady. “Please…” You want to ask him to stay. You want to ask for help. You want him to touch you so you know that you’re real—that you’re not in fact still trapped alone in the most terrifying part of a nightmare, but the words are unbearable.  The sound of your name in Harry’s mouth undoes something inside you. Through your tears you finally lift your head to find his eyes. His expression seems torn, like he wants to comfort you but doesn’t know how. You’re not sure which one of you bridges the gap, but your forehead lands in the warm slope between his neck and shoulder and that seems to be all the confirmation Harry needs.  His hands slide up your back to hold you as you all but collapse into him, crying with enough force that Harry draws you off the bed and onto the floor with him. He smooths one hand up and down the length of your spine as the other wraps so far around your back that you can feel his fingertips hooked over your hip. “S’ok,” he murmurs, his lips pressing into your temple like he intends to seal the words to your skin. Harry doesn’t try to shush you. “S’gonna be alright. ‘M here… I’ve got you. You’re safe… I’ve got you.”  When your wracking sobs give way to hiccups and finally to something halfway controllable, he stops talking and just holds you, rocking ever so slightly in a sort of motion that only a parent can do. You have no idea how long you sit like that, a tangle of limbs and soaked collars and cheeks, until you’re finally able to speak.  “I’m sorry,” you choke out. “You—”  “None of that,” Harry says immediately. You feel his nose dig into your hair, his breath warm as he sighs. “I mean it, alright? No more apologizing for any of this. Might have to make you a jar like the one Annie has for me in her flat.” The thought is strange enough to pull you, however briefly, out of your current misery. “You have an apology jar?”  He exhales sharply. “Swear jar, actually.”  Your laugh bursts out unexpectedly, sort of wet and weak, but there nonetheless. You feel the soft stroke of his thumb on the back of your head. “That’s more like it.”  You draw back and Harry’s grip tightens, just for a moment, before he releases you. He brushes your damp cheeks with the side of his palm before you can do it yourself. You see the same concentration he wore when he’d pinned that Remembrance Day poppy to your jacket. It takes effort to silence the instinct to be ashamed and keep his eyes.  “They said it might be a bit before an officer can get up here,” he says, searching your face. “They’re puttin’ together a couple patrol teams to canvas the building and stay outside the rest of the night.” All you can think to do is nod. “Can I get you anything? Water?” “Please,” you reply, grateful. “I should—” you make a vague gesture at yourself— “clean myself up a bit.” Harry opens his mouth like he wants to comment, but just nods instead. You use his shoulder to push yourself to your feet; his hand covers yours and you feel his thumb running across your knuckles.  You say, “Thank you,” but it’s not nearly enough. He squeezes gently, staring up at you and saying nothing. You walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom. You can feel his eyes on you even when you close the door. Lacing your fingers atop your head, you sigh at the tearstained, swollen-eyed version of yourself staring back at you in the mirror. After blowing your nose and splashing a few handfuls of water across your face, you join him on his side of the bed. His phone is in his hands. He finishes sending off a long, blue bubble of text before looking up and passing you a water from the nightstand. He runs the tip of his index finger around the rim of his own glass.

You bring the drink to your lips, then lower it immediately; the glass clacks against your teeth with the tremor of your hand. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you even though he doesn’t turn his head. Again, you try taking a sip with the same result and sigh. “I think I’m gonna try my parents again.” “Sure.” You set your water on the nightstand and head to Sylvia’s room, shutting the door behind you. You take a deep breath before collapsing back on the mattress. The stars rotating on the ceiling like a merry-go-round make you nauseous so you unplug the nightlight before dialing. Your mom answers after the first ring, emphasizing your name like a scolding. “Hi, Mom.” “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night in England. Is everything alright?” “That’s actually what I need to talk to you about.” You hardly get a sentence in before you hear her rushing to get your dad and the three of you have an hour-long, emotional crash-course on the last five hours of your life. There isn’t too much to fill in as you’ve kept them more or less updated on the blue-eyed man and your previous trips to the police department. You assure them that you’re in one piece and that you couldn’t have wound up with a more generous host, but that doesn’t assuage your mom from insisting on speaking with the police herself. She makes you promise to stay on the line until the authorities arrive. Before long, you hear a light rap on your door. “Yes?” Harry cracks it open without peeking his head inside. “Police are here—take your time. I’ll go out and speak with them.” “Thanks, Harry… Mom, some officers just arrived I think.” You pinch your phone between your cheek and shoulder, softly close the door behind you. “I’ll call you back once we’re done with everything.” You rush through a quick goodbye and meet Harry in the entryway. He’s thrown on some gym pants and a sweater and his arms are folded across his chest. The fully-uniformed men seem bulky and out of place in the sixth-floor hallway, as though they couldn’t squeeze in Harry’s modest apartment. It’s not like you’re the one in trouble, but your heart skips a little anyway. “… every floor of the building and searched the surrounding perimeter with no sign of anyone matching the description, and from the security footage we seized, we can see that he pulled out of the car park about forty-five minutes ago.” “Okay.” Harry nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Alright. Great.” The officer who had been speaking turns to you. “And you must be the young woman who—” “Yes.” You jerk your head quickly. It’s more like an anxious spasm than a nod.  “That’s me.” “We were just filling your neighbor in that we were unable to find the culprit, but the building and surrounding area seem to be clear. If at all possible, we think it would be best for you to stay here just for the night, then come straight to the station in the morning to make a plan.”  You simply nod again. “I will.” “You’re flat 8F, is that right?” “That’s correct.” “Were any of these marks on your door before this evening?” The officer pulls a cell phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to reveal the last few pictures in the camera roll. Your stomach drops. He flips through several photos of a long, black streak above the handle of your front door, and a sizable ding in the wood by the door jam. The impact was hard enough to scratch the paint. “No,” you manage. “I don’t recognize those. Did he, um…” “The door didn’t give,” the officer says. It’s just reassuring enough to keep your knees from buckling. He turns to face Harry again. “And you’re certain that the man showed no signs of knowledge that she—that the two of you were in this particular flat?” “Yeah. I watched him make his way down, knocking on a couple more doors.”  “Was he stopping by every door?”  Harry takes a moment to think. “No,” he replies. “It seemed a bit random if I’m honest.” “Right. Well, keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the next few days, especially on this floor. Don’t hesitate to let us know if anything changes.” The officer looks to you again. “In the meantime, we’ll see you at the station tomorrow?” “Yes, um… ” You clear your throat as your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. Would one of you be willing to speak with my parents on the phone? They’re a bit worried and want to talk to a professional.” You hold up your cell. “Of course.” After dialing for him, you hand the officer your phone and he begins to engage your mom in what sounds like a very animated, reassuring dialogue. You and Harry are leaned against opposite walls in the hallway, spaced out in exhaustion. You cover a yawn with your hand and catch him doing the same. Do you dare check the time? Your hands absently pat your front and back pockets, and you frown in trying to recall where you’d last set your phone. You roll your eyes in glancing up at the officer pacing in the entryway on the phone with your mother. “S’ just gone two,” Harry mumbles. You make a light noise in the back of your throat. “I’m sorry, Harry.” “That’s a tenner in the apology jar.” You breathe a laugh without humor, shaking your head back and forth against the wall. “I just can’t wait for this day to be over,” you whisper. “Would you like to speak with her again?” The officer’s voice clips into your half-conscious conversation. You hold out your hand and tuck the phone between your cheek and shoulder again as Harry thanks the officers one last time before showing them out.  Apparently satisfied with the conversation she’d had with the police, your mother circles back to the matter of your current state of limbo. “You’re sure you’re comfortable staying with this neighbor? Where are you sleeping?” You can practically hear the alarm bells from across the Atlantic. “It’s fine, Mom. We’re friends… sort of.” Friends that drunkenly make out in the lift. “He has a spare mattress. I’m staying in his guest room.” She digests this information in silence. “I’m alright, I promise. It’s just for tonight.”  There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I want you to call us, alright? No matter what time it is here or there, I want you to check in with us every day until we know for sure you’re absolutely safe.”  “I will,” you vow. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? I’m exhausted.”  “Right yes, go get some rest. We love you.”  You swallow with a little difficulty. “Love you too.”  Harry’s idling by the sink with your empty glasses.  “Sorry about that,” you say, and then wince when he gives you a sidelong look. “They can be a bit protective.” He shakes his head, his expression somehow more grave than you were expecting. “I know exactly how they feel.” Harry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I’m sorry,” he says into his palms. “I’m knackered.” “Yeah, of course… Get some sleep.” You hesitate. “You sure there’s not anything else I can get you?” “I’m sure.” He pinches softly just above your elbow. “See you in the morning.” Harry disappears into the hall. You listen to the sound of his bedroom door click shut before tilting your head to the ceiling and letting your eyelids close, literally twenty feet below your own apartment. You could probably throw a basketball higher than that. You sigh and look back down at your phone on the counter, quickly drafting a text to India and then deleting it. For a minute you stay like that, a statue in the pale light of Harry’s kitchen—the relic of a girl who woke up this morning unscathed. It’s probably for the best that you get some sleep tonight, but standing in front of the nursery with your hand on the doorknob, you can’t bring yourself to face the pitiful air mattress again. You turn to Harry’s bedroom door in defeat. Who on earth are you trying to fool? Heart hammering, you swallow your pride and crack open the door to Harry’s bedroom, stepping gingerly inside. It shuts behind you with a delayed click-click, impossibly loud. Nothing apart from blackness is visible before you, but suddenly comes the sound of a long breath in from somewhere in the room. Blankets rustle. Your fingers tighten on the doorknob behind you. With a tink, soft, yellow light spills over every surface in Harry’s bedroom. His nose scrunches and eyes squint. His hand flounders once against the nightstand before he locates his glasses, pushing them swiftly onto his face. Harry’s expression relaxes as he props himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. Your face stings with heat, but you hold your ground. His eyes are soft, careful, yet strangely unaffected. Without a word, or the slightest suggestion of ambivalence, Harry reaches out an arm to the opposite side of the mattress, and tosses the corner of the duvet halfway down the bed before meeting your gaze from across the room. It feels like a weakness, to cave and accept his offer. You want to explain yourself, suddenly, but there are no words for this time of night and the chasm you’re hanging over by your fingertips. So you approach the bed in silence and slide beneath his covers.  Backs turned to each other, you curl up so far from Harry that your knees hang over the edge of the bed. You hear the cool sliding of blankets once more before absolute stillness. The last image of your day is the dim, golden glow of Harry’s lamp vanishing on the ceiling. • saturday, 5th january 4:07 am • It’s disorienting, adjusting to a room you can immediately tell isn’t your own, momentarily teetering between asleep and awake. It’s even more disorienting when you realize that you are not alone. There’s a knee between yours and a heavy arm slung over your waist. You’ve migrated to the center of the bed somehow during the night, flipped on your back. But what draws your attention the most is the warm breath in the curve of your neck. “Harry?”  It was the asleep-half of your brain that had thought to croak his name. You don’t know what kind of reply you’re expecting to receive in this blue, small morning hour. Perhaps you won’t get one at all. Perhaps you’re dreaming. You stare up at the ceiling.  If you close your eyes now, would you even remember this come dawn? But the grip around your waist tightens, just for a moment, before you feel his body slide up against yours, a sigh fanning over your cheek.  “Yeah.” Harry’s voice is low and gravelly, but unmistakable. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest through the fine cotton of the shirt he’d loaned you, and he sounds surprisingly alert. A small silence lingers. “Alright?” Your eyes stay trained on the ceiling. Are you?  Part of you wants him to clarify the question: are you alright after everything that happened tonight? Are you alright… with this? “Yeah,” you breathe.  Harry doesn’t say anything else. For a moment you think he’s fallen back asleep but then he shifts closer to you. You watch as the shadow of his arm reaches over your body for your hand—you had left it open and maybe a little vulnerable beside your head on the pillow. You can feel the calluses on Harry’s fingertips as they slide up your palm and find the space between yours. You don’t dare turn your head because there is a question in your eyes that you realize you can no longer ignore, and you are afraid of his answer. So you close your fingers around his and do not speak. Harry exhales. You’re hyper aware of the way his body relaxes as he squeezes your hand. You take a deep breath. You know it’s no use wondering whether or not Harry is going to remember this in the morning. Even if this is a dream, you cannot deny that you’re warm and you’re safe and that you will remember, possibly forever, regardless of whatever happens or doesn’t happen between you. It’s a vaguely scary thought.  You close your eyes.

[aestheticallyholland]

NEVER NOT | AFTER YEARS . . .

❃ PAIRING tom holland x fem!reader

❃ DISCLAIMER i do not own the artists (and the reader) that are going to portray the characters, but i do own some of the their names. the plot of the story is inspired to the book and movie 'to all the boys i've loved before' but with changes. the gifs and photos used in this series are edited by me but i get credits to the originals. also, this series is first posted in wattpad by me. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST IT SOMEWHERE ELSE !

❃ WORD COUNT 2.8k words

❃ AUTHOR'S NOTES you have reached the final chapter of my tom holland series, never not! for those who have reached this part, i would like to say thank you so much for taking your time to read this cliche story that i wrote originally on wattpad, and hopefully, you enjoyed and loved it. thank you also for the constant reblogs and likes for each chapter in this series. i truly appreciate every reblog and like you gave. i also hope that you are satisfied with the ending of this series. with lots of love, lei <3

NEVER NOT MASTERPOST | LEI'S LIBRARY

"All love stories are tales of beginnings. When we talk about falling in love, we go to the beginning, to pinpoint the moment of freefall." - Meghan O'Rourke

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"ONE MORE POSE FOR ME!"

Flash.

"And another one!"

Flash.

"Alright!" Y/N exclaimed and removed her Canon 90D DSLR camera from her right eye. "That's it for today, guys! Great job everyone!" shouted once more and looked at the photos that she took from the monitor of the computer.

She was doing a photoshoot for one of the famous magazine companies, The Hollywood Reporter. She was one of the photographers for the magazine company for almost a year already. She surely was so happy to receive a call way back a year ago before that she was hired. And, she surely was so happy to pursue what she dreamed of.

"Great shots, Y/N. Great as always." Someone said from behind her and Y/N could just smile at the compliment.

"Thank you, Millie." She said and looked at Camille. Camille became a fashion designer like how she always wanted to be. She worked alongside Y/N in several photoshoots just this year, coincidentally.

"Want to grab some coffee on the way home?" Camille asked as she prepared her purse and placed it on her shoulder.

"Sure," Y/N said and got the hard drive that was plugged into the computer since all of the photos were there. Not only was she a photographer but also one of the editors for the magazines. "But after that, I gotta go somewhere."

"Are you gonna go to that place again?" Camille asked and Y/N looked at her and nodded as an answer. They walked out together as they were the only people left there.

"I'll probably call Erika after you go. Just gonna remind her about the reunion that our family had planned for this weekend." Camille said while walking beside Y/N.

"But she'll probably be with Harrison right now," Y/N said.

"They're still together all these years? Never knew she was a relationship person honestly." Camille said.

"Me either. But, she's happy so I'm happy for her." Y/N said.

They entered the coffeehouse that was packed with busy people. The scent of coffee went to their noses as soon as they got in.

"I totally forgot that it's still Friday today," Camille said. "So many people."

They lined up in the long line since there was only one cashier available.

"By the way, have you seen the latest movie?" Camille asked Y/N and she gave a confused look.

"Which one?" Y/N asked back.

"I think it was the— erm— The latest Spiderman movie. I don't know the full title but I heard they just released a new one this month." Camille said. "Tom is in it right?"

Tom.

That name that Y/N will never forget.

Y/N smiled under her breath before answering her. "Yeah, I guess."

After that, they just waited for the line to be shorter and shorter until they were the next one to order. After they ordered, they stood in the corner waiting for their coffee to be made.

"One cappuccino and latte for Y/N!"

"I'll get it," Camille said and walked fast to get their orders. She mouthed thank you to the lady and went to Y/N's side again. "Here's your cappuccino," Camille said and handed Y/N her drink as they made their way out of the coffeehouse.

"So, I'll see you on Monday at work?" Camille asked.

"Always." That was what Y/N answered. "Take care!" She added before waving goodbye to Camille and went in the opposite direction as her with her drink in her hand.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N parked her car on the side of the empty road. After how many months, almost a year, of driving lessons, she could finally drive for herself.

Before she got out, she got her drink and her other things first and removed her coat. She got out of the car with her things and shut the door and locked it.

The wind suddenly blew her hair and she smiled at this great feeling. As she walked towards the sand, she took off her shoes and placed them in the same spot that she would sit on. Luckily, no one was in the place other than herself.

The sun was almost setting and the waves were still moving in the ocean. She had come to this place almost every day or at least most of the time. The light of the sun reflected on the sun symbol on her bracelet that he gave her a few years back. She sighed at the thought of him.

She had lost contact with him just almost a year ago because of his busy schedule but Harrison would be the one to tell her how Tom was doing and all. Well, not really lost contact but they rarely contacted each other for the past few months due to their work.

Although those had happened, she never stopped going back to this place that Tom wanted her to always go. This was the place that kept her alive and stress-free.

Their relationship had its ups and downs.

Tom became one of the most famous celebrities in the world ever since he got the role of being Spiderman. After that, he had more upcoming movies for the past years later on.

Although there may have been rumors about him being in a relationship with one of his co-stars, Zendaya, because of their roles in Spider-Man, her trust for him remain. Although at some point, it hurt her but that just passed away.

Overall, she was happy for him and for what he has achieved. She was so proud of what he had become. It didn't stop her from visiting his family's house and spending time with them.

"I wish you were here right now." She whispered to herself as the wind could not stop making her hair fly.

"And I'm here." A voice said from a distance but loud enough for her to hear. Her eyes widen at this very familiar voice and her eyes began to water.

She slowly looked in the direction of the voice that she heard and there stood the person that she has been waiting for.

He gave her the same smile that she would never forget. He still looked the same as before but he was more muscular now. He looked better in person than on the big screen or in his interviews. His brown hair is now shorter but still had curls on.

"Tom?" She whispered and he could just easily read her lips calling his name. He opened his arms widely for her. She then ran up to his open arms and did not think twice about wrapping her arms around him. He spun her around as soon as he closed his arms around her.

Her tears fell from her eyes while hugging him. When Tom heard her sob, he placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair. "I'm home, love." He whispered to her.

She pulled away for a while and admired him. His face features, his hair. Everything about him. She suddenly pinched his cheeks with both of her hands that surprised Tom.

"Ow! What was that for?" He asked as he felt the slight pain from the pinch. His voice is deeper than before and his British accent is kind of mixed with an American accent.

"You are real," Y/N said that made Tom chuckle.

She was still as adorable as always. Tom thought

"Of course I am. You thought you're hallucinating?" Tom asked her and she nodded.

"It's been so long to finally see you personally," Y/N said and she slapped him on the chest. "You kept me waiting you know!"

"I'm sorry, love." Tom apologized and kissed her forehead. "Four years, huh?"

"And three months," Y/N added while looking at him and grinned.

"You have been counting," Tom said that made Y/N nod. "I missed you so much." He said and pulled her for a hug again. "God, I do miss you."

"I missed you too, Thomas." She replied and noticed the scrunchie that was on his wrist. The same scrunchie that she gave him before. "You kept it." She said and held to his wrist where the scrunchie was and smiled at him.

"Of course. It really reminded me of you." He answered.

They decided to sit down and talked about each other's new life. Tom was surprised about Y/N's career since he never thought she would be into photography like his brother, Harry.

"Your mom really influenced me to go to that," Y/N said. "That's why I'm so grateful for her."

"I had a photoshoot in that company actually," Tom said and that made her eyes widen. "Really?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that was like two thousand seventeen or something." He answered.

"Your American accent is really showing up," Y/N said and smiled at him.

"Well, most of my roles required this accent which I'm good at, surprisingly." He answered.

"How long have you been here already?" She asked him, curiously.

"Just today. I told my family first and Harrison that I was coming back for a week's vacation. And, I wanted to surprise you." He answered and placed his arms around her shoulders. She placed her head on his shoulder and gave a relieved sigh. Her happiness cannot be measured right now.

"You wanna go to the water?" Tom said and Y/N suddenly ran away from him and giggled.

"If you could catch me first!" Y/N said and ran which made Tom scoffed a laugh.

"I will!" Tom said and chased after her. After a few seconds of running, Tom was a few inches away from her and scooped her legs and carried her bridal style and he walked towards the water.

"No! Put me down! The water is gonna be so cold!" Y/N said but Tom ignored her and laughed. Then, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and forcefully pushed both of them down together to the water.

"Holy shit, the water is so cold," Y/N said as she raised her head up from the water as well as Tom. "Damn you, Holland!"

"You're gonna pay for that," Tom said and splashed her with water and Y/N did the same. Basically, the couple had a water fight. They kept laughing and splashing on the water to each other even as they stood up.

Tom then grabbed Y/N's arm and pulled her closer to him. They both wrapped their arms around each other and Y/N just gave a light laugh.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Do you have a towel in your car?" Tom asked as they got out of the water, their bodies and clothes soaking wet as they stayed there a while ago to watch the sunset.

"Yep. It's on the back. I came prepared." Y/N said as she gave Tom the keys and walked towards her car. Tom could just laugh.

Tom got the towel and wrapped it around Y/N's body and continued to hug her from behind. They decided to stay on the beach a little longer until they dried up. After a few minutes, they then went inside the car with Tom as a driver although Y/N insisted that she would drive.

They went directly to Y/N's apartment that she rented ever since she got her work. Tom parked in the basement of the building. As soon as they got out, Tom locked the cars and gave Y/N back her keys. They walked together and got to an elevator going to her apartment.

"How's your dad and Aria?" Tom asked as Y/N shoved the key on the doorknob.

"They are doing great actually," Y/N answered. "Aria got a job in New Zealand in tourism. And, will you believe that my dad actually got married a year ago?" Y/N said happily and opened the door.

"Really? I never heard of that." Tom said.

"Because we made it a private wedding so it's only our relatives and Mom Trina's family too," Y/N explained to Tom. "Mom Trina is an amazing woman and I'm glad they got to meet each other."

"Your mom will be happy that your dad is happy," Tom said and Y/N could only smile.

She placed her things down the counter table. "This is my home." She said to Tom who was looking everywhere in the apartment. "It's not that bad." He said.

"Yep. In my room, I get to see the city and the sunset and sunrise too." While Y/N was talking. Tom just kept staring at her, admiring her. He couldn't explain how happy he felt when he finally saw her again. He walked closer to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. This startled Y/N a bit but she held his arms and leaned her back to his chest.

"How did I get so lucky to have you?" Tom whispered and moved her hair away and gave a peck on her neck.

"Destiny, I guess." She answered and turned around to face him. She saw him looked at her lips and decided to close the gap between them by pressing her lips to his. Tom responded to the kiss and pulled her closer to him. As soon as the kiss became heated, she jumped and wrapped her legs around Tom's waist and he was carrying her. He then walked towards her room and shut the room by kicking his foot at the door while kissing and carrying her.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The ray of light hit Y/N's eyes as soon as she woke up. She felt strong arms around her bare waist and she smiled. She yawned and stretched her legs before she tried to move Tom's arm around her. She could still hear his soft snores beside her. His curls are really showing off when his head was on the pillow. She tried to get up but was stopped when she felt a hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to the bed. Strong arms wrapped around her again but this time tighter.

"Tom!" She exclaimed.

"Don't leave me here," Tom mumbled while his eyes were still closed and snuggled his head to her neck which tickled a little.

"Alright, baby," Y/N said and snuggled back at him. "But I have to cook breakfast. It's like almost lunch already."

"That was a long long night." Tom teased and Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she remembered what happened last night. She slapped Tom's arm playfully who just laughed at her. "Let's do it again," Tom whispered in her ear with a husky voice and attempted to kiss her again but Y/N covered his mouth with her hand.

"Nope, nope. Not happening." Y/N said as she shoved his arms away from her and stood up with the blanket wrapped around her. "You better go and shower, Holland!" She exclaimed as she exited her room.

"Join me, then!"

"Shut it, Thomas!"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Alright, we're on our way now, mum," Tom said through his phone as he drove in the road. "Love you too. Bye." He ended the call and placed his phone down. His eyes focusing on the road.

"What did she say?" Y/N asked.

"Harrison and Erika are already there and there done preparing." He answered and she just nodded as an answer. He glanced at her and smiled, taking her nearest hand and intertwining their fingers together. Y/N looked at him and smiled back. Tom decided to stop driving for a while which made Y/N confused. He parked the car on the side of the road.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asked, concerned.

"I just..." Tom paused for a while. "I'm just so happy that I got to see you again," Tom said and looked at her deep in her eyes.

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. "Me too, Tom." She said.

"I'll take you with me once my vacation is over," Tom said and her eyes widen.

"But I have work—"

"I already talked to your manager and he's fine with it. He's gonna give you a break for a while." Tom said.

"How is that even possible?" She asked and giggled.

"Secret," Tom said and grinned. "I want you to see my work and some of the co-stars want to meet you."

"Seriously?" Y/N asked. "You talked about me to them?"

"Yep." Tom answered, emphasizing the 'p'. "Even the Avenger cast wants to meet you."

"Alright, then. I'll get to see celebrities." Y/N squealed and smiled at him. "At least I get to see my boyfriend work. This is exciting."

Tom placed a hand on her nape and pulled her head closer for him to kiss your forehead and lips.

"I love you, my love." He said. "You are my world and my everything."

Oh, how lucky they were for each other.

"I love you, too, Tom."

Always.

Forever.

Fin.

❝ WE WERE SO BEAUTIFUL

WE WERE SO TRAGIC

NO OTHER MAGIC

COULD EVER COMPARE ❞

❃ ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE to add, feel free to also comment or reblog how this series was. i would lovre to read your thoughts and feelings about this series. once again, thank you for reading NEVER NOT, by yours truly 🦋

❃ TAGLIST @allthisfortommy @kait4073 @lovebittenbyevans @l0ve-0f-my-life @spiitfiires @robertpattinson-th @jackiehollanderr @butterflies-glitter

[echoghost1]

It’s Phic Phight time baby~!

Title: Perseverance Word Count: 1344 For:  @zombiemerlin Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Summery:  While Maddie is helping Danny with his homework a notification from his phone becomes a major distraction.

Edit: I didn’t check the formatting before but now it’s fixed! Edit: I added a summery!

Maddie made sure to be waiting in the living room when Danny came home after school. Not because he was in trouble, far from it. She was there waiting to keep him out of trouble.

The previous semester had been particularly hard for Danny. She still wasn’t sure what it was that was causing it though.

Was the transition from middle to high school that jarring for him?

Was the ghost activity upsetting him so much that he couldn’t concentrate?

Had his accident done something more to him than she realized? Should she have gotten a second opinion?

Was it something else entirely?

She sighed and tried to push those questions aside. Now was not the time for that. Now was a time for action.

During the last parent-teacher conference, they had come up with a plan. Mr. Lancer noted that Danny had done remarkably well if he simply studied and worked while under supervision. He seemed to benefit from having someone nearby to ask questions or bounce ideas off of.

It made sense to Maddie. It was hard not to notice that he tended to think out loud.

Another part of the plan was to make sure Danny couldn’t use the excuse of “I forgot” when it came to his schoolwork; he got a planner. He had to write down all his assignments in it and have them verified by his teachers and then signed by his parents when he got home. The signatures would then be checked the following day by his homeroom teacher, Mr. Lancer.

That man deserved a raise.

Danny came home later than usual, “I’m home!” he announced, slightly winded.

“Hi honey,” She turned off the evening news that she hadn’t really been watching and stood with him by the door.

Without being prompted he answered her first question, “Sorry I’m late. I almost forgot some stuff and my locker got stuck and then I missed the bus and I was running to try and catch it but then I just ran all the way here.” when he was done with his rush of words he deflated into a slouch.

“You ran from the school?” they didn’t exactly live within walking distance, it was why there was a bus.

“Yup.” he agreed, popping the ‘p’ as he slipped off his shoes.

“You hate running.”

“Yeah, I know. Flying is way better.” he said casually then froze, his shoe falling to the floor with a thud, “Not that I would know what that is like? Because I’m just a regular human person.”

That was odd. He was talking with strange inflections and avoiding eye contact. Was he lying to her right now? About what?

She took his chin in her hand to make him look at her. He didn’t appear to be overshadowed, just nervous. “Sweetheart, you know I love you right?”

He looked away with a slight blush dusting his cheeks, “Yeah,” but then he wrinkled his nose and scrunched his eyebrows together in frustration as he locked eyes with her again, “But? I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

She rolled her eyes and tried her best not to laugh at how cute that face was. He was right though, “But,” she started and made sure he saw her smile, “you aren’t making any sense right now. Did you get enough to eat at lunch?”

“Why are you asking about lunch?” he asked suddenly very suspicious of her for some reason.

That must be it then.

“You tend to get,” how should she say this? Definitely didn’t want to say ‘agitated’, “grumpy,” she decided, “when you’re hungry.”

“I’m not grumpy!” he snapped.

There was a beat for Danny to realize what he just did before he let out a defeated sigh, “Okay fine, maybe I am a little hungry.”

Maddie ruffled his hair and led him into the kitchen, “Well how about you get yourself something while I look over your planner and figure out a game plan?”

He nodded and fished out his unfortunately roughed-up planner from his bag before going to the cupboards. How he had managed to get this thing so ratty in such a short time she had no idea.

It didn’t appear to be much of a workload today, but there was a tear on the page and one of the assignments listed was now illegible. “You need to be more careful with this planner Danny, I can’t even read what this assignment is.”

He slid into his normal spot at the table, a bowl of cereal in tow, and leaned over to see what assignment she meant, “Oh right, I was going to text Sam about that.” he reached into his pocket but then stopped and looked back at her, “That’s okay, right?”

She smiled at him, glad that he was taking the no phones during homework time rule seriously, “Of course dear, but make sure you still put it in the phone zone when you’re done with your snack.”

He muttered his agreement through mouthfuls as he texted his friend, “I kinda know what the assignment is.” he admitted once he sent the message, “I just don’t know if I have to read to chapter five or through chapter five. Which, of course, are two very different things.”

Maddie nodded along as he spoke just enjoying spending time with him.

This was much better than that lame science symposium would have been. This was actual quality time.

“So what happened at lunch?”

He looked up, mouth full of cereal and even the spoon. He held up a finger before slipping the spoon out and powered through the overly large mouthful. He swallowed, took a breath, and simply said, “Box Ghost.”

“Box Ghost?” she repeated. That was probably the blue one in the overalls. It did tend to have a fixation with cardboard.

“Yeah, he swooped in midway through. Lunchables. Everywhere. Like an alarming amount of Lunchables. There was no way that many were in the school before he showed up.” he tapped his spoon on the side of his bowl in thought, “Maybe he hit the grocery store on the way over.” He quickly brushed the thought aside, “Don’t know. Don’t care. Either way, it ended with my food getting trashed and then the bell rang.”

He sighed and slumped in his seat, apparently too irritated to finish now.

She wanted to apologize, or empathize, or maybe ask why he was naming the ghosts? He really shouldn’t do that. Names formed attachments and attachments lowered your guard. And your guard should never be lowered around something as dangerous as a ghost.

Instead of any of that, Danny’s phone chimed with a notification.

He instantly perked up and opened the message in one fluid motion.

Then he just stared at the screen.

His eyes slowly getting wider.

His mouth falling open in shock.

Then he screamed?

He jumped out of his chair so fast he knocked it to the floor and just would not stand still. An endless string of repeated ‘oh my god’s spilled from his lips.

He was clearly freaking out over whatever he saw on his phone, but it wasn’t panic. No, he was excited.

Really, really, excited.

She hadn’t seen him like this since the day they had surprised him with a trip to Space Camp. That felt like ages ago now.

“Sweetie?” her call was ignored as his eyes were still glued to his phone.

She got up and grabbed his shoulders, “Danny!”

“Can you believe it!?” he asked grinning from ear to ear.

“Believe what?”

“They did it! It just happened!”

“What just happened?” her arms slid down off his shoulders as she tried to figure out what he could be so excited about.

“They just landed!”

“Who’s they?” 

“Perseverance!”

That sounded familiar but she wasn’t sure why, “And where did they land?”

“Mars!”

That’s right, the NASA mission. It must have been on the news earlier.

She looked back at her boy. It had been far too long since she had seen such pure joy on his face.

[captainrexisboo]

Comfort pt2: Butterflies

I did this one on mobile at work! Turns out I’m ✨Still In My Feelings✨ but writing a flustered Rex makes me feel better, so y’all are gonna deal (I love you all so much ❤️)

Warnings: none. But notes: Rex x Reader, sweet pining, emotional vulnerability, reader is a woman

I hope you guys enjoy this one just as much as the last one ❤️ all comments welcome, DMs always open 🥰 and finally: @000ayfh @pinkiemme @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life (that’s right pro, I read your tags) you guys make me C R Y with your kind words 😭 thank you ❤️ Edit- I forgot to link Pt1

Also pt3: Waiting

~

“Rex?”

He looked up quickly at the sound of your voice, you were standing there with your work in your hands and a flutter of your lashes. He chuckled at the familiar face, honeyed eyes crinkling in amusement as you gave him an innocent pout, “What is it today, Y/N? Are we sitting in silence or having a chat?”

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk for guests, and you practically skipped over to the seat, laying your own datapad and reports in neat stacks, “I think I just need to be. But can we put on some music?”

“Don’t see why not,” Rex gave you a charming grin, one you were now able to easily return without the corners of your lips threatening to pull down. Rex put on some basic top hits radio station, putting the volume down a little low to make it blend into the background, and sharing a smile with you once more before the two of you continued to work in comfortable silence.

It’s been about four standard months since he had given you that hug you desperately needed, since he offered you his company, his shoulder to lean on. You had taken him up on his offer about twice weekly, the two of you quickly becoming close. You shared a hug whenever he came back from a battle now, blessing the stars that he was safe, and you’d say as much whenever he boarded, “Thank you for coming back to me.”

You thought that maybe the first time you said it, he was about to short circuit, his spine stiffening and biting back a choking sound. He swears it was just a bit of exhaust trapped in the ventilation system of his helmet that caused him to cough like that though, you hope he got it fixed. You enjoyed having someone like Rex around, he was kind, sympathetic, patient, a good listener, trustworthy- he made good on his word that you could come to him for anything. Moments like this were now your favorite parts of the week.

Rex enjoyed having you around so often as well. It made his heart feel whole to know how deep your trust in him went, and was always grateful for the little ways you showed your appreciation. He wondered if you were so touchy with all of your friends. If you always gave your friends warm, crushing hugs, or subtle brushes of fingertips on their wrists. If you always gave them words of affirmation, or came into their offices just to sit and share warm laughter. The first time you had kriffing thanked him for returning in one piece made him nearly combust with happiness. To know you were waiting for him to come back every time just made him...he wasn’t sure, but he was hiding the widest of smiles under his bucket. He knew there were butterflies in his stomach that liked to fly up into his throat and make him trip over himself, and that your touches burned through his armor with the sweetest of fire, and that every time your smile was directed at him it shined brighter than any sun he’s ever witnessed. He knew that sharing caff with you felt like a special occasion, even if it was just made from the instant machine in the rec room and brought to his office.

“Rex,” you spoke his name carefully, like you were unsure about how it was pronounced, “Can I ask you something?”

He lifted his head up to you, and he felt his chest tighten. Your gaze was down, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, twisting your stylus between your fingers. Rex could feel his brows furrow, your mood changed on the drop of a dime, and he cleared his throat to speak low to you, “Of course. Anything.”

He held his breath as you looked up at him through heavy lashes, swallowing his butterflies down as you let out a shuddering exhale, “Why do you care so much?”

Oh.

“Uh,” Rex felt his own gaze shoot downward, suddenly finding his stack of flimsiplast very interesting, “You’re a good friend, Y/N. A kind person. Why wouldn’t I care about you?”

You blinked slowly to him, trying to catch his averted line of sight, “Well, you do a lot for me. You listen to my problems, keep me company when I need it, and I just. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything to deserve it, and-“

“You deserve everything.”

Rex had this issue where no matter how hard he tried, his butterflies made him speak. They made him say the damndest things to you, just bursting out of him in spurts, and always left him to clear it up by himself. His eyes widened at his own words, your eyes finally locking onto his, and he could feel heat rushing to his face as he stammered, “What I mean is, you… you deserve more than you think. Even if you weren’t my friend, I’d still want to extend basic kindness towards you.”

“Captain,” you cocked a brow to him, leaning back in your chair, noticing the way his jaw flexed when you dropped his title, “You walked me through the hardships of heartbreak. You still do, some days. That’s a bit more than basic kindness.”

“Because we’re friends,” he cleared his throat, suddenly finding it difficult to look away from you now, “I mean. You see us as friends, right? That’s what friends do.”

You searched his gaze, bottom lip pulled between your teeth again, making Rex feel surprisingly small as you continued your staring. You hummed at him, releasing your lip, and Rex couldn’t stop himself from glancing down to the reddened flesh. You leaned toward him, forearms on the desk, “But why? We weren’t close before, you kinda just…”

You trailed off into a small giggle, the sound sweet, and Rex was hanging onto your every word at the edge of his seat. You looked off to the side, your own cheeks feelings warm, “You kinda came out of nowhere. A hero, swooping in at the last second to save the maiden in need. Like in the stories I used to read as a kid.”

A hero. If it had come from anyone else, if he had read it on the holonet or seen his face on a war poster, he would’ve scoffed and rolled his eyes. But instead it came from you, direct and to his face in the privacy of four walls, and he was melting. You looked up at him again, gaze soft, your warmth shining through as you bit back another giggle, “Sorry if that's weird, or childish, but it’s true. You remind me- no, you are exactly that.”

Rex couldn’t stop the wide smile that stretched over his face, it felt goofy, and toothy, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He tried, he tried to stop, but that only made it worse, and he found himself wishing he had his helmet as he was sure his cheeks held a deep ruddy color to them.

“You’re...you have no idea what you mean to me,” he shook his head, resting his chin in his palm to try and cover his cheshire grin as you looked at him in curious amusement, “Y/N, you are such...you’re a light on this ship. All the staff, all my troopers, even our Jedi care about you. You’re always offering your smile to us, making us feel warm even in hyperspace, and if I’m being honest, coming back to y-“

Rex cleared his throat, cutting himself off as he found himself bearing his soul to you. He watched you closely, the way your lashes hit the tops of your cheeks as you blinked to him, the way you chewed on the plump of your pout as you waited for him to continue. He cleared his throat again, his slight stubble rubbing against the synthweave of his gloves, “Ah, c-coming back aboard to…to see you, I mean. It just makes me feel...better.”

He finished lamely, finally gaining control of his face again and pressing his lips together into a fine line before he could spew anything else out to you. He felt like a cadet again, his heart was racing and his face was hot, and he waited for you to laugh at his silly notions. He wasn’t prepared for the mist that came over your gaze, or the sniffle that accompanied it.

“You really-” you paused to wipe away the tears already gathering atop your lashes, a thin laugh breaking through your choked words, “You’re terrible, making me cry like this. How did a sharp edged, straight cut soldier like yourself get to be so sweet?”

“I’m...sorry?”

He was so perplexed.

You smiled through your haze, more laughter straining out, “F-for what? You just...you say all the right things, Rex.”

He didn’t know what to do. He made you cry, but...you were happy about it? He froze in his seat, unsure of what to say, if he should move- should he give you a hug? Did you want a hug? Did you need to leave? Did you want to leave?

He held his breath as you pushed yourself out of the chair, walking around his desk to immediately fling your arms around his neck. You pulled him close as you leaned down into him, his face heating up even more as it was shoved into your neck, nose skimming the hairline behind your ear. He felt a shiver go down his spine as you sighed against him, your breath fanning over his neck, and he froze. What should he do with his hands?

Typically you’d both be standing, and he’d be able to return your tight hold with his arms around your back, but if he did that now then he’d be pulling you into his lap and he is not going down that rabbit hole. If he just placed them- no, then his hands would be encircling your waist, that’s just as bad as the lap. What if…

Gingerly testing the waters, he breathed through his nose, moving slow as if he’d scare you off with the slightest surprise. He brought one hand up to sit between your shoulder blades, and that was fine. The other hand was treading new territory, coming up to the back of your scalp and threading his fingers through your hair. Your content hum would replay in his mind the rest of the day.

“Rex…”

That was going to replay in his mind for the rest of the week. The way you breathed his name out made him hold you even tighter, not even realizing what he was doing until you chuckled low against him, “Thank you, Rex. I don’t know what kind of state I’d be in if you hadn’t been there for me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N,” he whispered to you, trying not to let his lips skim against your neck as he spoke, “Sincerely.”

You pulled away, and he found himself missing the mild smell of your shampoo. You smiled down at him, standing with your hands behind your back and a hip jutted to the side. You seemed to be contemplating something as you kept looking off to the side, and before Rex could ask what was wrong, you had leaned down to ever so gently press your lips to the side of his temple.

“Sometimes a hug doesn’t say everything quite right,” you bit your lip, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as you felt your cheeks heat up again, “If anyone deserves everything, it’s you, Captain.”

With a final smile, you walked back around to your side of the desk. You bit back a slight giggle as you saw Rex touch the side of his head where you kissed him, turning back to your work just as he looked over to you. He let out a breathy chuckle, getting back to his own work, the two of you settling back into the previous comfortable silence, the forgotten radio finishing up another song.

[popculturebuffet]

Scotrospective: Scott Pilgrim Vs the World (The Comic)

Hello, Hello, Hello scottaholics! And what a beautiful day it is: After decades lost in the lost woods, at least it had that catchy tune to keep it company, Scott Pilgrim Vs the World: The Game is FINALLY back and performing for you on all platforms!

Even Stadia, the platform most likely to disappear like this game did for a while! Cheap shots at the stadia aside as a huge fan of the franchise as a whole and of this game who played it back on the 360, and had since sold said 360 so I had no way to get it back or ever play the dlc packs. Seriously who didn’t want to play wallace but never got to? Everyone, everyone is the answer. But with those the entirety of what I consider to be the main cast is playable, it has online so you can beat up hipsters, guys in costumes and robots with your friends, it’s a good damn feeling.  And since i’m in a celebratory mood, naturally i’m also feeling like a review. And since it just so happens the next volume up in my look at the comics is Vs the World, seriously I planned this review for this month without thinking to have it come out on the same day as the game until a week or two in, I felt there was no better way to celebrate the biggest day for Scott Pilgrim fans in some time.. and for Brian Lee O Malley as he’ll stop getting twitter asks about it. So with all the exposition taken care of LAST TIME, and the link right there if your curious, we can jump right in. On with the show!

After our opening titles, and yes this comic has opening titles, with Ramona sitting solmely in the rain. 

And Scott caught in the title. The rain shot is real pretty by the way. But yeah once we get past those we’re taken back 7 years ago. Finn found out his father was an asshole, and voiced by Stephen Root so hey you take the good with the bad, Steven just learned the horrifying truth about Gem Monsters, Guardians of the Galaxy saved the MCU and I was trying to find work after college.. wait... sorry sorry that was 7 years ago from THIS year. The comic came out in 2005, though the comic takes place on a sliding timescale where only like 2 years pass so I dunno when this is. Let’s just say 98.  Okay so 1998: Bill Cllinton’s sex scandal breaks, and puts way too much of hte blame on the young intern whose life came to be defined by one stupid mistake she made with a man who was way older and should’ve known better, the tide of the Monday Night War turned in favor of the WWF as Stone Cold Steve Austin became a household name, and it was an utterly standup year for video game relaases with Ocarina of Time, Banjo-Kazooie, Crash Bandicoot: Warped, StarCraft, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, WWF: War Zone, Pokemon Stadium, Spyro The Dragon, Pokemon Yellow, WarioLand 2, Oddworld: Abe’s Exodus, Star Wars: Rogue Squadron, Pokemon: Trading Card Game and Sonic Adventure. It’s like someone took a good chunk of my childhood and squeezed it into one year holy shit, I did not expect this when looking up what came out in 98. 

And while the movie pool wasn't’ quite this amazing, we still had The Wedding Singer, The Big Lebowski, the dude abides, Batman and Mr Freeze: SubZero, The Truman Show, Mulan, the good one not the one made near concetration camps that makes her into a demigod, Saving Private Ryan, Blade, Simon Birch, Scooby Doo on Zombie Island, Rushmore, Bride of Chucky, HalloweenTown, Plesantville, and the Prince of Egypt. And in music Weird Al changed from his first signature look to his second, getting Lasik and growing out his hair. Seirously had no idea that was this year. Good to know. Also Elton John got his knighthood. Super shooters. I could go on with 1998 triva for days but I cannot go on for 8 weeks so let’s get to the point here.. during alllla this  Scott Pilgrim, age 16, was starting St. John’s Catholic School and a couple of guys who were up to no good started making trouble. . by threatning to beat him up for no real reason. A fight insues and we cut to the principal’s office as Scott’s still a minor and not allowed to get into death fights just yet under the people’s freedom of choices and voices act. 

It’s here he meets Lisa Miler, a peppy and sarcastic blonde, who’s intrigued by the fact Scott somehow got beat up after being here just 15 minutes and wants to be friends. Naturally for scott next we see him he’s busy playing video games, and annoyed someone else is around and wondering who this person whose now in his basement is. God no wonder teenage me related to him. So for the next few pages we see their friendship in time lapse: Lisa joins him at lunch, then geninely wonders since Scott’s Untentionally a dick if he hates her.. it’s part of why I think Scott has some form of autisim. And not just because I tend to belivie a character is on the spectrum all the damn time, it’s because of the way he acts: while he is nice and charming at times.. he also clearly has trouble relating to people or realizing how his actions effect them and as seen here in a younger form can often be compeltely distanced from normal social queues, not getting how his actions might be seen until Lisa outright talks to him about it. I mean.. it’s not a huge stretch, and it dosen’t mean he’s nto responsible for his own actions, but it does EXPLAIN a lot of them better: why he just sorta forgets about Knives post-ramona but at the same time still cares enough he dosen’t want to hurt her despite you know, that ship sailing just by having moved on. 

But now the two are friends and his parents, who we meet for the first time and sister inquire about her being his girlfirned.. and by next jumpcut his parents apparently don’t want him hanging out with girls? What exactly the fuck? Also they mention Laurence, Scott’s brother whose missing for most of the books and has no real payoff for not being around. Next cut we get KIM!

Thank you Prissy. And she’s.. not all that different, assuming, correctly that their partner project, how she meets scott will just result in her doing all the work.. which not only is how these things usually went when I was in high school a decade later, but reminds me of the time me and my friends curtis and justin were put on a project and when asked who the alied powers were, guessed “Germany?”.... you can understand my fear. And also Curtis punching him for getting nothing done.. and not hard or brutally mind you just once quick in the gut and with full warning. Ah... the adaquate old days. 

So back to Lisa as, since Scott’s Mom has a guitar.. a fact I.. never honestly thought about. Seriously I never realized her children, since the Bass Scott has for most of the books is Laurence’s, getting into music was probably due to her. Also Lisa makes her case for WHY be a band: the school has a regular event called Lunchapalooza, where everyone goes to and since by teen logic, just being in a band is automiacally cool, she figures they can jump from not QUITE being in any cliques to being super cool. Which honestly yeah... while I didn’t know any bands in high school, the fact one of my friends, ironically named Scott, was a DJ automatically made him pretty damn cool once he got past his awkard phase. I never got past mine but somehow was loved by all except that one douchey kid in our group who mocked me for naming my Luxray kim, assuming it was based on Kim possible and not Kim Pine... though frankly how that’s an insult when Kim Possible was a fucking awesome show and character is beyond me but he was just 17 and also a douchebag, it didn’t have to make since it just had to piss off the easily pissed off kid with aspergers. So Scott poses how they can be a band with just their guitars and Lisa concedes drums WOULD help.. I mean it’s what MADE Shallow Gravy. 

So while Kim wonders if Scott is dating Lisa, because teenagers don’t really get girls and boys can be friends without wanting to be together, though not often as teenage boy brains can be rather stupid and horny... can confrim from personal experince. So it becomes clear Scott has a thing for Kim, and when Scott tries broaching it with Lisa she dosen’t take it well and he backpedals to asking her to be her drummer and plans to monday, proving Scott has somehow not gotten better at reading women, or anyone after 7 years. Can relate. 

So yeah he decides to ask Monday, same day as their presentation.. and thankfully missed the bus as he arrives to find the Benvy Tech boys came in, took everyone out and abducted Kim. Because yeah, just in case you were wondering Scott’s life was always like this.. or was it? Questions for later. So one Canadian Version of River City Ransom later, Scott’s made his way to simon... who, since most of you have probably seen the movie or art of the movie.. looks an AWFUL lot like Gideon. Hrmmm. Simon is naturally the final boss here and wonders if this is the best St. Joels can muster. Scott quips back as only Scott can. 

So cue an unsuprisingly awesome actoin sequence. IT’s part of why I love these color editions: While they already LOOKED thoroughly fantastic the added colors really help the series shonen manga meets old school video game vibe REALLY fucking pop. So Simon pleads mercy which like Scott delivering a good quip.. should’ve really been a red flag to younger me and is foreshadowing for later in case I was too subtle. He then does what any noble hero would do.. kicks simon into the sunset, tells Kim how he feels and asks her to play drums. They then make out. Awwww. 

Lisa suprisingly takes it well as the next montage shows.. granted we’ll learn in Feburary she wasn’t QUITE as over scott as it seemed, but the three, along with a friend of Lisa’s whose name I forgot and who DOSEN’T come back so I’m not going to bother learning, form their own friend group, Scott and Kim get an A, and Scott, Kim and Lisa’s band is dubbed sonic and knuckles, which is an objectively awesome band name. Something the series really does great: Video Game Based Band Names. Crash and the Boys, Sex Bomb-Omb, Clash at the Demonhead... we need more bands like this in the real world dammit. So then they play their big game, the two loose their vrigniity.. and then Kim asks scott “your moving to tornoto?” And.. for now.. that’s that. 

While the framing of that will be VERY important in the last volume, as notice how KIM’S the one who brings it up and it’s not explicitly stated scott actually told her, this flasback is great. While it does contribute to the volume’s drifty pacing, more  on that as we go, it brilliantly sets up a LOT of stuff for later, paticuarlly Lisa who I assumed wouldn’t be back and younger me’s jaw fucking DROPPED when she popped up in Volume 4. Granted i’m spoiling that suprise for you now but odds are most of you reading this have either alreaddy read these or were probably wondering if the girl from the animated short ever had any actual relevance in the books. So yes, yes she does. She’s also the pink haired girl you see pop up in the game in the background, as a nod to O’Malley’s comic strip style which had her and Kim as the leads.  Also yeah for fans of the game or movie or even the comics who were unaware.. this prologue got an animated adaption on adult swim to promote the movie. Naturally Micheal Cera and Allison Pill reprised their roles as Scott and Kim, with Mae Whitman voicing lisa.. and honestly being perfect for the roll, and Jason Schrwartzman voicing Simon naturally. While the animation is slightly limited, it still looks decent and expertly translates O’Malley’s art, while sliming things down slightly where needed to fit a short, and the anmation takes a huge bump for the fight scene which like the comic is short but awesome. While it has no real bearing on the film as Kim’s former relationship with Scott never really comes up or has any impact, as the Film while good was based primarily on volumes 1-3 with small pieces of 4 (paticuarlly the iconic “Lesbians gag”), with Wright working off outlines and drafts of 5 and 6, so the last half hour or so is mostly Wright’s invention. 

Not a bad thing as it’s still awesome and not o’malley’s fault but it means kim dosen’t get to do much, and is a big reason why I want an adaptation on netflix or hbo max. While i’d still want changes both because there’s no sense doing an adaptation if your not going to make some tweaks of your own and because it’d be intresting to update the series to modern day, both in societal conventions and so everyone stops saying the r word. Seirously the most telling sign of the series age is that word showing up quite a bit during the first half of the series. Point is there is merit in doing another remix of the story and doing a longer form one so we can get more of the characters, as well as flesh out ones like Steven, Neil (Who was done WAY better in the movie adaptation thanks to the wonderful Johnny Simmons), and Stacey who got the shaft in the books. Again, not slagging off the movie, it’s really great. Just saying there’s always room for more Scott Pilgrim content and we all know it. 

We’ll get back to the comic proper, and the present day of 2005, after the cut. 

So the story proper opens with Scott dreaming of playing video games... because of course he is with Ramona walking in. and finding it charmingly pathetic but wanting her boyfriend to you know, get out of bed. It’s 11:30.  So with Scott’s ass out of bed, we find Scott, Age 23 idiot with a heart of gold and Wallace, 25 king of all gays, on the bus as they talk it getting warmer and Lucas Lee, movie star and jason lee stand in coming to town to film a movie.. and Scott being Scott gets him confused for Luke WIlson. He’s also seen Bottle Rocket which.. good on him. Seriously while not wes anderson’s best film, those were made long afte this comic was published, it’s still a damn good one.. where was his career at this point... looking it up life aquatic was his most recent films and is still one of my favorites. So yeah he was in a good place career wise. 

Scott proudly talks about having Ramona over in a couple days so she can see his place and meet Wallace. But as explained by Wallace for those of us just tuning in, he already met her last volume. You know during that time Stacey thought she could magically make her date not be attracted to someone else.. and yes even almost a month later not letting that one go. Stacey should know better. Not saying i’ts right Wallace keeps poaching her boyfriends, but she still shoudlnt’ try and force a relationship with a guy or even finish a date with one who makes out with someone else, regardless of gender, mid date. She deserves better. In general not just in this one scenario but we’ll get to that. 

Point is while Scott, as usual, is a bit pissy about this Wallace.. has no time for that and issues an ultimatium

And he’s not bluffing, as he fully intends to tell Ramona the minute she walks in the door if he dosen’t break up with Knives. It really shows Wallace off at his best and why he’s Scott’s closest friend: Kim and Stephen do care about him but Kim both has a LOT of unresolved issues and sexual tension with him and keeps eveyrbody including Scott at arm’s length. And Stephen.. while he will OCASIONALLY call Scott out mostly just enables him, either ignoring his college buddy’s shittier behavior or playing along with it and backing him up when Kim rightfully calls him on being a dickhead. While both love their friend they just aren’t the best at dealing with his shit or getting why he does the things he does good and bad.  Wallace on the other hand geninely likes Scott. He’ll lock him out of the house and tell him to sleep elsewhere so he can bang one out, he’ll not wear pants if he dosen’t have to and he’ll certainly hit on Scott just to get a rise out of him, phrasing.. but he also genuinely cares for the guy’s well being. He lets him sleep in their house basically rent free since scott has no money, buys most of their stuff, and is, as we’ll see in this one, the ONLY one of his friends to take an active part in the fight against the exes, training Scott and researching his opponents when he can get info. He won’t baby Scott as seen here, but he will help him, and he will be the harsh voice of reason his friend needs.  And he did TRY doing a softer approach last time, simply telling scott to break up with his fake high school girlfriend. Scott had every chance to dump Knives during the last third of the first book.. it’s just a combination of both Knives and Ramona being in the same place and Scott getting panicky meant he balked. He NEEDS to be pushed into leaving Knives or he’s not gonna. And he also gets it’s not just Scott being a shifty coward: Scott DOES like Knives.. he just found someone who actually challenges him, intrests him and connects with him on his level, versus someone who worships and adores him like a puppy who just happens to be skilled with knives. The relationship with Knives. was an ego boost, an unequal paring that gave Scott the illusion of moving on from Envy. Ramona is him ACTUALLY moving on and given how badly Envy fucked him up, which comes into play in this book and the next, Wallace recognizes that Scott does need her... but this relationship can’t go anywhere if Scott is seeing someone else, and they both know it. Wallace is just the one who’s willing to do something about it to force scott to do something about it. He’s doing this for Knives too: it’s very clear he cares about the girl, was against this from the start, and knew this was going to end in pain and the faster Scott rips off the Band-Aid the faster she can move on to someone closer to her age and far more equal to her. Scott.. takes this about how you’d expect, even calling Double Standard, as Wallace does sleep around.. and while Wallace will be a homewrecker to Stacey.. otherwise it’s not remotley the same. Wallace does his sleeping around either casually or when he does get a partner, with their consent from what we can tell. He never cheats or anything, he just likes to bone. So yeah Scott doesn’t have a leg to stand on and acts accordingly. 

One of my faviorite gags in the series and one that’s etched in my head for keeps. So with a justified Ultimatium over his head Scott calls knives to hang out. Knives.. shows off that as adorable and trusting as she is.. she’s also kind of creepy and shows up just outside the phone booth he’s calling her from.  So the two go to a record store and Knives tries to get Scott into Clash at the Demonhead, her faviorite band. But since i’ts you know, headlined by Scott’s ex as we’ll find out, he’s not into it. But before that can get awkward.. it gets awkward in another way as Knives invites Scott to dinner at her parents place. Which is an objectively bad idea even before you get into the fact Scott wants a way out and as Volume 4 will show us her dad is both not happy with the idea of her dating a white guy and willing to use a katana to prevent it so he dodged a bullet there. Scott TRIES weasling out of it, but his “I’m too old for you” thing falsls on deaf ears.. and actually explains why she thinks this is normal: her parents are 9 years apart. of course obviously two consenting adults with a decade between them is a mite bit diffrent than 5 years between a teenager whose taking this way too seriously and a grown man whose taking this not seroiusly at all and dosen’t get how effed up this is. But Knives is too naive to get that, and papers over any possible concerns about her parents not wanting her to date a white guy with i’m in love.  Seeing that he has no EASY way out of this, as he shouldn’t, Scott just rips off the band aid and bluntly breaks up with her, saying it’s not going to work out. Knives.. is clealry devistatd. To her this was a serious relationship.. and Scott realized that too late.. and thankfully while he didn’t break up with her in the best way, at all, simply syaing i’ts not going to work out and confirming to her he means it, it’s clear from his face this hurts to do and he knows he’s REALLY hurting her and REALLY shoudlnt’ of dated her to begin with. IT’s why Scott dating a teenager dosen’t make him a morally rephrenisvie monster: because he was genuinely intrested, didn’t use her sexually, and there are tangible consequences for his actions. Knives just dosen’t disappear neatly into the sunset so he can be with ramona. The rest of the series covers her emotoinal recovery from being with Scott, and how she very horribly handles it and that’s why this plotline works at all: she’s not some act one contrivance to be thrown away, sh’es a human being, and more than that a young woman who got hurt REALLY bad and got way too in over her head with someone who just..wasn’t the one fo rher no matter how much she can’t admit that. 

We also get one of my faviorite sets of pages as Scott relfects on things and the sheer devistation on Knives face, which credit to a series that even at this early point loves it’s big bold facial expressions.. her’s being more subded just makes it sting MORE. 

This bit to me is vital to keeping Scott sympathetic and to his character. We see he really does regret what happened, dosen’t know how to process it and genuinely feels awful. As I said instead of some exgerated face that would still hurt him.. her face is quiet, clearly unable to process this and clealry lost and hurt.. and that hurts more than any fuck your or sobs he was probably expecting. Just her clearly not getting WHY he’s doing this or why he hurt her, and he KNOWS why he just knows telling her the truth would hurt her even more. But.. as he thinks.. his thoughts move to something else.. and the WHY of why he did this. 

He did it for Ramona. Wallace was as harsh as he was right: he needed a clean slate to actually give this relationship a shot and the smile comes off less as him being a calous dick whose just happy to move on, I mean he is a little, but more jus tsomeone READY to finally move on. He found the right person, he let the wrong one go if clumsily.. he has a future to look forward to and he can smile about that. 

Granted he’s still his usual unteitonally callous self and his way of telling his friends he and knives broke up is to casually say so and say “dont’ worry you’ll meet my new girlfriend soon.” Their reaction.. is my own. 

Look just because Scott is a nuanced douchebag dosne’t stop him from being a Douchebag. It just means he isn’t intolerable to watch and you actually care about him growing as a human being is all. 

So with that out of the way, it’s date night and Ramona is coming over.. also Scott is considering calling her Ramy which no. I'm genuinely in favor of a pet name that’s just a variant on someone’s name but a bit cute, as it’s just the right level of obnoxious, but no, just no Scott. No.  Ramona enters, meets Wallace again and sits down while Scott tries to shoo him out.. because turnabout is fair play bitch. They also see Ramona’s new hair as she dyes it something new for the first time, in this case a very lovely two tone, the purple from last volume but with a darker purple bellow it. I honestly wish she went for multiple colors in her hair again, but likely didn’t since the book was originally in black and white... which still dosent’ make sense as it would’ve been EASIER that way. Regardless Wallace makes himself scarce proving that he’s more than willing to be equal in terms of one of them spending the ngiht elsewhere. What a guy. 

Ramona finds out a few things about Scott: That his apartment is VERY small, just one room with a bed, a cabinet, a small kitchen and a bathroom, which despite what scott says I REALLY dont’ count as another room. Just common sense. She also learns that he can COOK. Yeah while you’d expect Scott to just get a wad of “I did the ultimatum thing okay now gimme” money and buy dinner but no.. he made the whole thing himself from his own recipe.  And once we cut to them eating on the floor.. turns out yeah he not only can cook but is REALLY good at it. She wishes there was a table which, small as the place is.. fair point. I mean at least get some tv trays. You have chairs. Or at least the easy chair. You can get nice padded folding chairs so you have a second chair guys. I know your poor but come on. Also Scott leanrs bread makes you fat. Good stuff. Also Scott freaks out when , while making out with Ramona in bed later, she mentions his hair’s getting kinda long and could use a cut... which turns out to be a thing for him. He isn’t an ass about it he just panics a bit because he’s partially convinced his last relationship’s nightmarish breakup was because of a bad haircut he got. As we’ll see next week, that’s a no but as someone whose a touch neroutic myself I get blaming a larger issue on something trivial. 

So we then get to the next chapter where it’s KIM’S turn to have a dream.. and the only time we see someone else's dreams. Honestly.. I really would’ve liked if it was a recurring device, even have Ramona pop into other people’s Not used ALL the time but I could easily see it being used with Knives to convey her obsession with Scott and her pain or kim again to help move her plots along or Wallace because I want to know what’s going on in his head. It must be a maze of male gentalia and fine liquor the likes of which has never been seen. It’s scotts funeral as Simon killed him and Scott’s corpse wonders if she dreams about this a lot. 

So we see her get ready and wake up her roomate Sarah whose a bitch. And as we’ll see in one of the backups, so’s the rest of her roommates. So drifting into work. Hollie is a character I really liked... the past tense will be explained later. And the first scene is probably why as her and Kim banter effortlessly, with Kim suggesting maybe she was a happy kid... only to admit quickly no she wasn’t, she was pretty withdrawn and then pretty angsty over someasshole who will be named Scott. “Your a holy terror kim, and i’m glad your on your side”> It’s a short scene but the kind this series excells at: just realistic, fun little exchanges bursting with character. I also GENUINELY wish we got more of this kind of thing, as only Knives really gets these kind of scenes to herself for the most part. There ARE scenes without Scott, but not enough like this that just give us as look into what his friends lives are like during the moments they aren’t putting up with his dumbassery or watching him engage in mortal combat. It’s why i’ve been hoping a spinoff will happen even though it likely won’t SOON. I’m sure O’Malley will return to this world some day, but between Snotgirl and Wicked World, which will come out when it’s ready but should be good.. he’s just really busy. But i’d love to see more of Kim.. or Wallace or Knives. The latter two are a no brainer: Knives is the tritagonist of the books, and it’d be intresting to see what she’d be like 5 years at the book, at the same age and stage in life as Scott. And with Wallace it’s because we really DON’T see his friend circle, life or what goes on with him. We hear him talk about a new boyfriend, who we don’t meet until near the end of the series, though you can see him in stage 3 of hte game if your curious, we see him with some random friends in volume 4, but we really don’t KNOW what hyjinks and lojinks wallace gets up to. He’s pretty isoalted from the rest of the main cast, something I hope an adaptation could fix as while realistic i’td be curious to see what his relationship with Kim or Steven would be like. Just food for thought. 

Point is this was a good scene. But as is typical for Kim’s life just when she has some serenity her ex crashes back in. In this case Scott needs to rent some movies, kim works at a rental store and god teenage me really wanted a clerks style spinoff.. but enough spinoff talk. Scott asks kim to bororw them, of course and explains he’s training for his fight with Lucas.. which Kim reacts to finding out her second best friend is in a series of death matches. 

She has understandable questions such as how the hell doe she know that and is he stalking Lucas and just hoping he’s an ex.. which let’s face it would be a very scott move. But nope Wallace told him, likely learning in an interview he dated Ramona or is coming for scott because he knows everything. We also get one of my faviorite exchanges when Kim wonders why Wallace and Scott are roomates.. a valid question he deflects by saying i’ts a long story. 

Also yeah, as much as casting Micheal Cera backfired for the movie.. that panel there proves there wasn’t another choice at the time. When you want a loveable, somewhat douchey, but also somewhat innocent and oblivious slacker.. who you gonna call. Also before we move on.. Kim.. how are you this suprised. You were there for the fight with Matthew. And Ramona giving out the exposition on why he’s there.. and you even did that whole weird space channel 5 thing no one ever did agian and to this day I will never understand what O’Malley was going for and only know the refrence by hearing that’s what it was. Point is you shouldn’t be this suprised.  Anyways we next cut to Ramona and Stacey, as Ramona enters her workplace, second cup, and they talk and Scott’s spider sense goes off... 

I mean it’s just a bad feeling but still.. weird. WE’ll get back to that later. Scott is in the middle of his training.. and I love the mentor side of Wallace and feel it didn’t get used enough as the series went on. As said before he cares about Scott, so he serves as his Shounen Mentor and a great one: he’s stern and makes Scott work, but he also gets his student and what Scott needs to work. I just wish he’d taught Scott some actual combat, but as we see Wallace’s combat skills boil down to yelling useless info from the sidelines.. I mean he can be useful, we’ll see that next week, it’s just he’s not an action guy. But spirtually he’s the guy scott needs to kick his ass into shape. That being said his “training” consists of watching Lucas’ movies, playing tony hawk and when Scott wants to play more Tony Hawk, having Scott do pushups while Wallace plays Tony Hawk.  Before we turn... there is an elephant in the room I just gotta shoo out: Lucas.. is easily the worst setup of the 6 exes. Patel SEEMINGLY comes out of nowhere but his letter and email hint SOMETHING is coming up, and his flashy dynamic entry intro is damn cool and is what turns the series on it’s head, from an indie comic about a guy getting it together.. to that but with huge shonen dustups with epic visuals. Todd is introduced masterfully here, and is a presence from the start of volume 3 as a result, Roxie gets a slight tease in the free comic book day issue, and her not attacking for two months not only sets up tension but allowed for a red herring.. im’ not only hiding that the fourth ex is a she because anyone whose seen the movie or played the game knows the fourth ex is a woman. The cat’s out of the bag, no sense hiding it. The Kentangis show up pretty early on and Gideon is hinted at and built up, as this towering, mysterious figure, his relationship with Ramona, who he is, why he set up the league, and just how fucking strong he is is all obscured, with his only four apperances simply teasing the big final showdown and giving him that much more mysitque. 

Lucas.. is just sorta intorduced like “Hey I gotta fight this guy”. There’s just.. nothing. Scott’s just gotta fight him because he’s next up and Wallace knows that because plot convience. It’s VERY lackluster given what comes before.. and frankly while I like Lucas, he’s the weakest plot and character wise. HE’s not even really EVIL, just a sellout and is more doing this because he has to I guess, and likely because of stuff we find out in Book 6 but sssssshhhhh. We’ll get more into that when the fight happens but it’s one of the books weakest points. The evil ex.. just feels like an afterthrought again despite there being no reason to. Thankfully this would never happen again as I said, but it dosen’t make this any less frustrating. 

So we cut to Sex Bomb-Omb practice, and after that we get more tease for Clash at Demonhead. And Stephen.. is cool with them and entirely happy one of them made it, while Scott is understandably pisssed off about it and not happy one of his best friends is you know, promoting the band of his ex who broke his heart and as we’ll get more into next time, said rising career is what tore them apart. So yeah Stephen’s a dickhead, and I was wrong last time that he got better. He really.. dosen’t. He gets less CREEPY.. but out of the main 6 characters he’s the weakest: he dosen’t have much of an arc, does some very questionable shit in the second half, and his being around means we have to suffer through Julie. I’ll tear into him more on a case by case basis but for once Scott’s not overreacting. While Kim does nothing she also has no idea just HOW bad things were and Scott won’t tell her. Stephen was there the whole fucking time. He just saw Scott’s rebound with a teenager. He knows he was kind of messed up after this. Dosen’t justfiy knives but still he looses the moral high ground he tries to have at times. 

So while Scott shops a song for Ramona to her, Knives calls Scott’s place clearly setting up another suprise apperance. Wallace.. figures out what sh’es doing quick and simply gives her a stern “You have to go” And to me it’s not him being a dick.. he’s both trying to save her from seeing Scott with Ramona and fucking her up worse... and is looking out for her. She needs to move on and moving up to stalking Scott’s not going to help that. Scott dosen’t WANT her anymore, and while he handled it bad, Wallace gets she needs to see that. Granted he could’ve you know explained it to her and tried talking, but as i’ve said he’s not a perfect person and he was also on a time table to get her out of there in case Scott you know, showed up with his new girlfriend and made things a billion times worse. And the two are indeed headed to his place to watch one of Lucas’ movies, and part of that weak setup is that Ramona.. just has no connection with him. It was high school. Scott also pretends he dosent’ remember his. You are a lying liar sir stop that.  So they watch the film together hanging out, and it’s.. really bad. The good one was rented out. I miss rental stores.. a magical time. I mean i’ts better now, streaming means 80% of movies are avaliable if you have a bunch of services and even if you just have netflix or hulu or hbo max, you still get a pretty decent selection each month. Plus digital rentals are super easy. Do miss redbox though. I mean it’s still there I’m just warry of something that relies so heavily on touching things in a state with a lot of trump morons. You CAN get Covid twice and I don’t wanna. Also we get some dated Dialouge as Scott commenting on Lucas being hot, he is good taste Scott, is given a “good job convincing me your not gay”. He and ramona end up having sex though so .. yay? I dunno. The series has a really weird thing about not getting bisexuals exist and as someone whose bi, and really against bi errasure it bothers me, it bothers me a lot. Though given O’Malley apparently has not only far more queer rep in snotgirl but a bisexual lead, he’s clearly learned so i’m not going to drag him too hard on this. It was the early 2000′s. People were pretty damn stupid about this. Creators have gottten MUCH more important issues much worse. 

So the next morning, Scott gets a call from his well meaning but ditzy mom, and reacts like you’d expect. His parents are in Europe to keep them out of the action and what not. Though apparently according to the last book his mom did read volume 3 at least. Or Wallace told her about the relevant bit. You make the call. 

So i’ts Ramona’s turn to meet Sex Bomb-Omb. The group hang out and discuss Gordon Downie. 

Look I don’t know indie bands. I have no idea who the tragically hip are I just know the name is really hipstery. We also get the recipe for Vegan Shepards Pie. None of them are vegan they just wanted to try it and I.. really want to make this some time. Just to see if it’s any good. But yeah it’s in general a fun casual scene, as Kim reveals she and Scott dated, just to break the tension, and Scott tries out Rammy but quickly backpedals. Just fun slice of life stuff. Oh and Knives is watching them from the window and takes Scott dating someone else as well as you’d expect. 

So she gets some hair bleach to do some highlights and calls her friend Tamara over. We met her last volume as she dragged her along to the show, but it’s here we really get to know what she’s like.. i.e. the sane one in the duo, rightfully pointing out Scott’s not that great. Also Knive’s points out ramona’s “fat”, which is thankfully portrayed as petty sniping as while Ramona does have some curves it’s you know.. not remotely a bad thing and the kind of thing a teenage girl would harp on. Still she’s just in STEPS from this happening. 

But yeah.. it’s clear here Knives has some underlying issues to address and really needs therapy  not to go after her ex’s current girlfriend with knives. I mean it’s in the name but still. Then again volume 4 has her dad going around with a katana or something like it wanting to murder her daughter’s older ex boyfriend he dosen’t realize is ex so it’s clear her whole FAMILY needs some therapy. But this does round her out and show there’s more to her.. a pretty violent and obessive side sure, but it shows she wasn’t just some one dimensional ego boost for scott but a person. One whose just as flawed as the rest of the cast.. but more sympatheic because they’ve all got about 6 or 7 years on her and at this age that’s a lifetime. And while Scott DID set this off by dating her which was objecitvely a bad idea... the rest of this isn’t remotely on him. He handled things BAD.... but all he wanted was for both of them to move on. Knives.. simply can’t admit Scott is not a nice person, was probably two timing her as Tamara points out, which as we know he 100% was, and is not some perfect guy she can’t replace: like Knives.. he’s just a person with faults and she’s too blind to see that. 

So before we can get to the crazy stalker ninja fight, let’s instead get to Scott and Ramona hanging out where we meet Gideon, Ramona’s Cat who i’ll call Cat Gideon, both because I love steven unvierse and because it’s less confusing. This is a pretty slight scene as Ramona admits not a lot happened with Lucas and Scott’s apartment is a hole.. which yeah, yeah it is. Also she DEFINTLY dind’t cheat on him with any cocky pretty boys. Which would come off worse if it wasn’t for the pact Ramona was clearly doing it out of regret and Scott just liked like 50 pages ago about rembering his exes when one of them is his second best friend.. which neither would admit but you know it’s true. Stephen is third where he belongs. 

So next morning it’s fight time, and Scott is glad wallace is going with him. It’s awkard going to fights alone. Which leaves me to wonder if before this comic Scott just.. fought random guys letterkenny style. Like they’d call up, schedule it and then he and one or more of his friends would go beat up a guy. It’s just.. hilarious knowing that this kind of thing is common in canda minus the ki attacks , flash effects, wizards, vegan psycics, ninjas, and roboticists. But damn I now want a scott pilgrimized letterkenny now more than ever. You know you do too don’t deny it. I”d love to see the hard right jay fight but iwth a loud “KO!” when he gets his ass knocked out. Also Casa Loma is a very real, very cool Toronto location, as I never realized as a kid, to the point that the lucas fight was filmed there for the movie. 

So Scott approaches Lucas a bit star struck and upon finding out scott is.. punches him out as seen in the header image and throws him into a tower. When Scott regains conciousness, Kim and Neil have arrived and Lucas calls a time out. And it’s here we get to, while being the weakest of the 7, why I like Lucas.. he’s actually a pretty nice guy. At WORST he sold out. But the two have a pretty nice conversation over ritz and baby carrots, with it turning out, unsuprisingly Ramona did cheat on him with a cocky pretty boy, and while like Ramona he’s clearly moved on, it still hurts a bit and understandably so. He also warns scott while she might seem nice i’ts an act. 

I mean it isn’t ALL an act, but she does have a tedency to put up walls and act pretty badly as we’re slowly finding out.. though given Scott does the exact same it only means.. she’s human. She’s not MUCH higher above him in terms of morality and this is where we get our first peaks into the fact the series isn’t just about Scott’s development but hers. But it’s understandably absent from volumes 1 and 2 since we need to know her first, and this volume is about getting to know her a bit and get a feel for who she is, something I ddin’t really get a grip on as a teen, but do now. We see more of who she is good and bad as the walls go down. She’s more SURFACE LEVEL functional than scott, but beneath it has a lot of the same exact issues.  Lucas and Scott continue to GENUINELY bond, as Scott genuinely thinks the guy is talented and Lucas want’s an Oscar this year.. maybe not for the current film which is a romantic comedy with a teen star but hey, stars have done far worse in their Oscar years. I mean at least he’s not making a comedy about himself in a fat suit domestically abusing himself in a wig while he also plays an asian sterotype. He explains he almost didn’t get into the league but felt too important to ramona’s past.. plus he looks cool. Plus they let Patel in despite barely being in a relationship with her and being kind of a tool so they kinda had to let the handsome affiable movie star in. Scott wonders “wait league” and Lucas is understandably frustrated to find out Patel just sent a letter Scott didn’t read.. and at Matthew let’s be clear. I mean.. Gideon has to have known Scott wouldn’t read that since he’s been in his head. We’ll get to that in part 6. Point is they formed a league, hence why their organized enough to come after him like this and Scott understandably glares at Wallace for you know, having him play tony hawk and watch movies yet missing the fucking obvious clue they were all working together and they were only coming at him one at a time by choice. 

Lucas offers to just.. take a bribe and SAY Scott beat him, Scott calls him a sellout jokingly and Lucas proves that while not AS bad as the rest of the League, he’s still a dick by telling him to kiss ramona’s sweet ass goodbye pilgrim. Okay either he’s seen her since high school or he’s fondly remembering a high schooler’s ass. Neither one is nice to think about. But Scott gets out of his ass beating by pointing out a ramp, real thing too used for the movie, and asking him to skate down it. Lucas says i’ts impossible, and Scott just whistles. So Lucas tries skating the impossible and dies via velocity. Yes really. Scott collects his change and gets a gift, a mytryil skateboard he.. can’t use because he dosen’t have a proficency for it and bemoans not picking it up in 5th grade. Also he didn’t get his autograph. He does get some coins though so neat.   Yeah I mentioend Lucas was the least of the exes and I stand by it: He’s an intresting character, not a GREAT person but clearly a charming and nice enough guy who likely offered the bribe not because he’sd a sell out but because he genuinely liked scott, and is easily the best adjusted of the exes. But obviously a near non existant setup and a really hilarious and unsastifying finish just.. don’t really feel sastsifying. I mean i’t slampshaded, but after all the build up of her having 7 evil exes, the next one is just..filler. Not BAD, but not really anything special and giving Scott a an early pokemon victory, but unlike ash having done nothing to really DESERVE it.  Thankfully both adaptations so far VASTLY improved on this. While Lucas is still affiable in the movie he’s also smarmy, if on better terms with Ramona, saying “he seems nice” after the tower throw and throwing in some stunt doubles. His fight goes from one of the least satisfying and weakst of the series, to easily one of the best of the movie. We’ll talk about that more there but obvious Chris Evans version is far superior, keeping the good traits while giving us an intresting fight.. and still keeping the skateboard death because it’s fucking hilarious and the movie improves on THAT too by having scott give flat wows as he slowly dies. The game likewise keeps teh skateboard death, if shortening it, and the skateboard, and while not changing his apperance does make him a hell of a tough boss. Took three tries and some online grinding to take him out. Still a hell of a fight. Point is while I genuinely like Lucas story wise.. this just dosen’t work for me and is pretty damn weak, even if it gives us some godo character insight we could’ve got that, and a fight and still had the finish we did. 

That being said.. we DO get a fight instead, likely why the Lucas fight was so truncated. Next chapter and that evening or the next day or whatever, we pan over the real life tornto refrence library. It is a VERY nice touch thatt the comic and it’s adpations use either real places in toronto or reasonable subsittues. While not canadian myself I love the place and hope to visit Tornoto some day when the world isn’t a living nightmare and it’s really nice that like New York for Marvel, Brian Lee O malley really makes the city feel integral to the comic, like it’s own character. But Knives is ominously perched above.  At second cup Scott is horrified to find Julie. Seconded. Julie takes the moment to give out to scott about him dating Ramona despite telling him no. Okay... 

Yeah as you can probably guess I don’t like Julie. She’s not a good character. The movie did her better, with the bleeping gag and aubrey plaza’s performance, but in the comic.. she’s just the worst. She sucks bad. If she were an ice cream flavor she’d be pralines and dick. While she’s fine on OCCASION, and actually works in the next volume, outside of that she just gets more unplesant, more unlikeable, more bitchy, more unfathomabbly assholish every. damn. volume. I”ll give out about that a bit then too but I have to put up with her for the entire damn comic. Now her being bitchy to Scott is fair to a point: Scott is a mess, and she’s loyal to Envy in the breakup, and Scott’s own friends drag him on a daily basis.  The problems are that she’s like that to EVERYONE, even Knives who isn’t about to stab her much as i’d like that. She’s unberable to Stephen whose tolerance for her is unfathomable, though the ending bits of volume 6 show maybe he just has terrble taste. She’s just a throughly unplesant, social climbing bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone. And it sticks out badly against the main cast; Scott is very bad with women and relating to people, but is also nice, charming and most of the damage he does is not intetional. Ramona puts up walls to keep others out but is also a responsible adult and often cuts through Scott, and at times others, internal bullshit. Wallace is an alcholic, but still a very responsible, very loveable guy who clearly cares about scott and supports him finacially and emotionally. Kim is VERY emotionally distant, very misntrhopic.. but also a good person who as we see as the series goes, has an inner light to her and often drags on Scott because she’s been putting up with his shit the longest and WANTS him to be better. Knives is an obessive and violent stalker.. who was also deeply hurt by an older man, dosen’t GET that her realtionship with scott was wrong and uneven, and is clearly not emtoinallyr eady for the deep feelings she’s having. And Stephen.. well he’s a talented guitarist but also enables scott and julie. Especially him enabling Julie. 

Point is their all pretty well rounded, llikeable characters with flaws. Julie.. is just an ass. And this scene demonstrates that with flying colors. While Scott does ignore her because he’s too worried about his sister and girlfriend becoming friends, understandably given Stacey knows all his dark secrets, Julie spends two pages giving out and treating scott like some bad guy for persuing Ramona against her orders. And i’m going to break down why.. this dosen’t work.. on any level for her.  1) Ramona is not Julie’s property. She’s a big girl with her own free will. They aren’t even remotely close: Julie met her only barely before Scott, and given the dream thing probably not even that. And you could say Julie is just looking out for her... she dosen’t know Ramona well enough to KNOW if Ramona is still smarting over Gideon. She probably was.. but she readily, once the awkwardness passed, went out with scott and dove right into the relationship. While there’s still some scars as we’ll see.. she CHOOSE to move on and that’s her choice. If she wasn’t ready, she woudl’ve turned him down or broke it off by now realizing it was a mistake.  2) Scott has no reason to listen to her. She hates his ass, somewhat justifably but still, she hates him and has been against him since fucking colllege. She took his exes side in the breakup despite Envy still being partly in the wrong but paints him as some abusive dickhead and not just an insesntive dickhead. To him he’s just some villian she needs to reign in for her cool friend who wants nothing to do with her and grows to justifably hate her over time. Scott and Julie TOLERATE each other. They are not friend,s they do not like each other and never will. They are around each other because of Stephen. That is it. If Kim , Wallace or Stephen had asked, or at least made him wait for kinves. he probablyw ould’ve or at least considered it since while they take the piss out of him, they genuinely care about him and actually have shown they care about something other than themselves! Speaking of which the cou de gras 3) She’s a selifsh bitch: She is NEVER not  in any volume seen as out for anyone but herself, and thus scott has no reason to trust her judgement. She berates Stephen, him and anyone who will listen, is only so loyal to envy because she’s famous, and as I said treats EVERYONE like dogshit.  And given Scott is still a very flawed guy.. it takes a LOT for him to be so right and he runs out screaming when Julie mentions her.

So back at the library, Ramona brought Stacey along because the place is a maze. Scott calls Stephen and calls julie evil.. which given the last two paragrahs. Yeah. She is. She really is. But that goes nowhere as he dosen’t have Stacey’s number. He also thinks Julie was responsible for this which while she’s very much not.. would it REALLY be that suprising that if Julie were there she would’ve introdcued the two and set up their little hangout just to piss scott off? God I’m  so sick of talking about her. 

So the two after dropping off Ramona’s package decide to hang out a bit.. not long as Ramona’s got shit to do, but hey I agree with her logic i’m curious about this palce too. But before they can go up an elevator Ramona spots incoming.. and thus we get the fight of the volume. Though given the next one has two climatctic fights and one or two before that, they easily could’ve had both.. this is still the highlight of the volume.  So Ramona snaps off a railing and before Stacey can give out about that she finds out WHY as Knives attacks with a pair of sais. And O’Malley did his homework as while you’d THINK it was just another dumb white person mistake.. O’Malley is asian, thoughw ether he’s candaian korean or canadian chineses, as his last name is korean but he has a large chinese cast in this very comic that might come from experince, I do not know and if you do know tell me. I’d like to refer to him properly as I don’t LIKE lumping all asian cultures into one basket. But not only that he did his home work, as Sai’s, while popularized in Okinawa Japan, were also used in other countries. I bring this up since I assumed it was just a simple mistake even knowing Brian was mixed-race, and was plesantly suprised to fine that know, I was the moron. And i’m fine with admitting that. 

So we get a damn good fight.. and Knives figures out Scott WAS cheating on her. Granted she assumes so due to seeing Ramona at the refrence Library, before he actually cheated and clearly blames Ramona for it, but still, it fucking hurts. Plus while her attacking Ramona, who initally assumes she’s gideon’s doing, which.. yeah sending a teenage assasian just to mess with her head does sound like him. So while Stacey does complain “ramona you can’t just tear out art objects” to which I say... yeah high, Stacey? NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW SCOTT’S EX IS TRYING TO KILL HER. SHE’S DEFENDING HERSELF.  So we get one hell of a fight. It not only shows off that Ramona is one hell of a fighter herself, as is knives, but just how immature knives is, resorting to constnat fat jokes and taunts showing just how immature she is.. and unlike volume one where it was endearing and we just saw how sweet she was here it just comes off as mean, bitter, and uncomfortable. But again part of the series biggest charm is the main cast are all well fleshed out and throughly human. She’s doint this because she dosen’t know better and was raised in a house where, again as volume 4 will bear out, finding out her dad is going after scott with a samurai sword just warrants a “dad’s are so weird aren’t they” my point is her frame of refrence is a mite skewed. Plus this is a world where everyone but Stacey just calmly accepts big shonen fights break out, so it’s not that unsuaul to want to settle things with a fight and while i’ve joked about her killing Ramona we genuinely don’t know that was the goal> Could’ve been, easily given murder is peachy in this setting and just leads to a respawn according to O’Malley and would’ve just sent ramona back to her apartment. But I genuinely don’t think she has it in her to do it and while she could’ve planend to, she never would’ve. Plus Ramona easily leads the fight as while Knives uses hit and run tactics and tries make her follow.. Ramona is more annoyed than anything as she has shit to do. Knives only gets one hit in and while i’ts a pretty nasty scratch on the cheek, if thankfully not scarring.. Ramona shrugs it off when she brags about it and easily takes knives down with a potted tree. Knives runs and while she tells herself it’s to fight another day.. its really because her opponent was WAY stronger and way more ready for something like this than she probably planned on. She did defintely want a fight, she just wasn’t prepared to be outmatched so handily. It’s also a nice  parallel to last book’s fight: Like with Scott and Matthew,  while the fight SEEMS pretty even, in reality our hero/heroine was alwasy teh one in control and easily took care of the less experinced and less ready upstart, who likely wasn’t expecting a fair fight much less to loose. 

So Ramona and Stacey wisely get out while Stacey explains Knives is indeed Scott’s ex, though is unaware of the cheating thing. Speaking of Scott he’s playing sonic and knuckles, and in fact kept wallace on the line before just to get advice because of course he did hence why stacey didn’t get through to him, but gets a call... from Envy. 

This is easily the second best sequence in the boook, which was lovingly and wonderfully adapted to film and as a result I cannot read it without hearing Brie Larson’s voice for Envy , a nice mixture of seduction and condescension. It’s CLEARLY painful fo rhim, and we do get some things established as Envy toys with him, that it’s been about a year and that she left him for a cocky pretty boy, familiar.. and while Scott claims to not know what he looks like.. given Todd is clearly on her band cover... it’s not exactly hard to put two and two together. So after some awkard catchup and Scott telling her about ramona against his will, we get to the reason she’s here with Scott understanndbly being supscious and calling her a user.. which while Envy denys.. she ends up admitting to. She’s coming to town as estalbished and her opening act backed out, and since Scott has a band, and one that 2/3 of which she knows, she wants them to open for her.  Scott naturally isn’t too intrested and thinks it’s just pity. The sequence. is masterful, using a watchmen style 9 by 9 panel layout and intercutting scott’s pained reactions and clear lack of comfort with flashes of envy on her side.. never showing her proper, but showing his memories or what he’s seen in magazines. It’s really striking and really sells the sheer discomfort Scott’s going through.  So soon after Wallace gets home.. and finds Scott, drained and miserable on the floor, not even responsive. And this really is the scene that shows me that Wallace cares for the guy and cements that asshole he may be, he loves his buddy. He goes through possible scenarios that fit scott: Food poisoning, finding out Wallace saved over his final fantasy save (though he rules it out as last time that happened he was crying), that ramona dumped him.. before Scott let’s out a pathetic and miserable “Ennnnnvvv”. Wallace , who was at ground zero for that relationship as we’ll find out, realizes this and lets out a little shit, unsure how to help and pissed off at that bitch for once again hurting him like this. As I said it shows how Wallace knows scott in and out and loves him dearly.. and how he knwos about this paticuarly heartbreak better than anyone but Scott and Envy themselves. IT’s just a really tearjerking scene, as we get a sense of WHY scott spiraled into an ego boost of a relationship: His last one REALLY tore him in half, and he’s still not completely healed from the emtional bisection. 

So Scott gets more bad news next chapter as Stacey tells him about the fight and he’s worried he’s going to loose ramona on top of this. I mean he desrves it.. .but it’s clear she’s the best thing to happen to him after a really rough year of denial and poor decisionss and loosing her will likely only make him WORSE. He also breaks the bad news, to him at least to the band about the gig. Stephen, being kind of a dick who while understandbly excited about a big gig fails to see his friend REALLY isn’t happy about this nor remembers you know, that the person offering this tore his heart out indiana jones style and while they should take the gig despite the risks, it’s too big an opportunity not to, he should be fucking senstive about this. Kim however... has a suprising and heartbreaking reactoin to this. Which is spread over a few panels but i’m gonna string into one image for convince sake. 

Just.. DAMN. I honeslty missed this both as a teenager and as an adult when I read through the books last time but holy shit is this a heartbreaking little moment, even more with the development she gets in later books. Keep in mind, over two books so far, Kim.. really hasn’t shown a lot of emtion. The most upset she’s gotten was getting a bit pissed about another a girl drummer. The only other time we’ve seen her sad was at 17 when Scott left. Her only emotions that we could see were angry and surly. But here? She’s genuinely upset and we see her walls break down for the very first time.. and it’s with the clear indication she NEVER really got over Scott. She never got proper closure and while she hasn’t let it so.. it’s been VERY clear she's been grossly uncomfortable with how he just likes to brush off their history, something that very clearly still bothers her and understandably so: 6 years , while a lot of time, still really isn’t long enough to just .. FORGET your first boyfriend , how he made you feel or the fact he took your virginity and you took his. Stuff like that sticks with you.. I’m ony assuming on the virginity thing but my point remains: To Scott it’s SEEMINGLY nothing, when really he’s probably just trying to brush it off because he dosen’t like dealing with things and given how Kim is wrongly assumed she can’t feel pain. I mean to anyone else i’d be a fair assumption and even i’m not convinced if she touched a hot stove she’d burn, but that’s phsysical this is emotional. DIffrent playing fields. Point is Scott’s kind of a dick and not having ANY closure for anything, Kim is still smarting from him leaving as much as Scott is smarting from Envy dumping him.  And it somehow gets MORE painful.... which should’ve been the tagline for Bojack Horseman now I think about it but yeah: her line is what cuts me up the most “I saw her on the cover of Now. She’s pretty”. It’s a little line, it’s easy to see why I missed it .. but the subtext really stings. It’s that despite being VERY pretty, I had a crush on her as a kid and I still do now.. Kim just can’t help but compare herself to someone whose now a glamrous rock star.  Their equally attractive but all Kim can see is ANOTHER person who Scott cared about more than her. Which seems petty but again he just.. abnadoned her. His moving wasn’t his choice but his not telling her as was framed earlier sure as hell was. And then just.. look at the next people he dates: A glamorous rock star (She wasn’t at the time but that’s for next week), a much younger girl who can’t possible challenge him, and an ultra cool american. To her.. it must feel like he just looks right through her to every other person intersted in him and never even consdered her as a person anymore. I mean.. jesus christ that hurts.. and makes me hate Stephen more since you know he dosen’t notice any of this.. though at least unlike with Scott it’s a bit more understandable because Kim’s so unflappable and he’s already ignoring very obvious and transparent emotional pain why shouldn’t this be any diffrent.  So yeah no one’s happy about this, and that ends up including Stephen as he’s so insecure about his band’s talent he’s pretty sure they suck when their probably at least adaquate. 

So while Scott dosen’t say anything, it’s clear he’s at least consdiering the offer as when we next see him he and ramona are heading to Envy’s show. And honestly it’s just a really sweet scene as Ramona asks about envy and the two banter and hold hands. A really nice palletee clensar since hte last few pages were like I was the one lucas socked in the gut. Also she assures him she dosen’t hate him, and asks about how the breakup happened, turning down any offers to hear the good times.  It was new years eve one year ago, and he mentions it was over her leaving to meet some guy named Todd.. and Ramona finds the story familiar but brushes off Scott wondering if her todd and Envy’s todd wer ethe same guy as a douchey joke. When prying about what happened otherwise, Scott admits it was all a blur.. Ramona isn’t ahppy with the answer.. but it’s nto like it’s that unresonable: he was in deep with Envy, and the breakup was damn bad to the point it took a year for him to recover and end up in the relationship he is now and the one before this was clearly a cry for help. It also helps reinfroce just how much Wallace was there for him and probably WHY Wallace hates Envy so much. They probably live together simply because Scott needed a place after college, was in zero condition to get a job or do anything given his zombie like state.. and Wallace just had him move into his bed, platonically and into his place. It’s probably why while Wallace will complain ocasoinally he isn’t that on scott to find a job. He dosen’t need a paying roomate, they do fine just on his sallary and he has a steady, secure job in some sort of calling office, probably working in medical stuff like my mom. He needs his friend to be safe and happy, then he can get on his ass about being functional, as he is in present day. If nothing else this volume made me realize just how good a person Wallace is.  The one thing he CAN remember, to Ramona’s disbelif is a restraunt opening up, the job story he hinted at last volume: basically it was a fancy tex mex place called, and this is one of the best restraunt naems in the history of fiction brace yourself: The Gilded Palace of Flying Burritos. Naturally, as would I as I love tex mex and that name, Scott loved the place, ate there most of the week and like me with some places I liked waited impatietly to get a job. He did and they were even super generous as the food was FREE.  Which is a euphoric feeling I relate to, though I also liked any discounts I got. seriously when I worked at Bagel and Bagel a good chunk of my paycheck was eating there for dirt cheap every shift. I miss that place so much. Like even after I left there I still like a good bagel sandwitch. And it wasn’t covid or anything it was just low staffed and slowly coming apart due to a lack of a solid manager after Crystal, the manager who hired me, transfered to a store closer to her home, which I do not blame her for. 

Point is I get it even if Ramona thinks this is all made up. Anyways at Lee’s Place, based on the real life Leo’s place, everyone’s gussied up: Steven got an awful haircut and Kim... 

But no time to dwell on how great kim’s..everything is.. who DID  Neil bring to the concert? 

While Kim is VERY much enjoying this, everyone else is a bit freaked with Ramona getting assurance her and Scott dated breifly, with Kim quipping her and neil will probably date even breiflyer, and Stephen.. freaking out, wondering if she seduced him, and asking if they should take him out back and kick his ass.. 

Just..... that’s a lot of douche to unpack and this review has been VERY long and suprisingly hard already.. but fuck it, we don’t have much left to go let’s do this. Okay one did she seduce him.. I mean I GUESS, but really let’s be clear here: Neil is a horny, lonely, monosolobic 19 year old who lives with his sister’s college friend and whose life revovles around said guys band. Knives is adorable. She likely barely had to flirt with him to get him to say yes .As someone who was a lonely 19 year old doofus, I guarantee no matter the red flags I probably woudl’ve said yes provided she was 18 instead of 17, despite the abudant red flags such as neil vaugely looking like scott, neil being the one single man within scott’s circle to get her way back in, as Knives hasn’t realized she’s bi yet or given how much she looked up to Kim, she probably WOULD’VE gone for it. As would any sane person, which neither knives nor I entirley are. So she didnt’ so much seduce him as offer him a girlfriend he didn’t have and him being too intrested in having a sweet, caring girl on his arm to see the giant army of adrestian soldiers needed to carry all the red flags this presents. 

And as for “do we need to kick his ass. “ Stephen.. did you kick SCOTT’S ass? No, you fucking abetted him and only stepped in for the good girl thing. You did NOTHING to stop his relationship with knives or tell him he was screwing up or look out for that girl’s well being. This will bite him in the ass even harder in volume 5, but even now it just makes him look REALLY fucking bad that, even if he probably dosen’t mean it, that’s at all on the table. Also.. Neil, unlike scott is doing slightly less wrong. While he is 20 to her 17, three years.. it’s HALF of what Scott and her’s age diffrence is, and far more equal in power structure. It’s still not.. GREAT, but my point is you did NOTHING when Scott did this, for far flimiser and less forgiavble reasons.. but when NEIL, whose been nothing but weirdly loyal to you dates her, you want to kick someone’s ass. I mean yes he’s being stupid: in a clear role reversal of the Scott and Knives situation, it’s obvious just from her expression that KNVIES is the one in control here, and the one using someone to ease her own pain. Granted it’s wrong, if not as wrong as Scott should techincally know better and Knives very clearly dosen’t, as well as get into a show of her faviorite band. Is what she’s doing wrong.. yeah... while she can’t see it again it’s what Scott did just not QUITE as fucked up due to not being AS embalanced. Should neil probably be dating her after scott did ? No. But should you be threatning him and not scott for you know, setting all this in motion? No. Jesus christ you suck Steven. 

Thankfully while Scott presumibly calms Stephen down, Kim spots Hollie and her roomate Joseph, who will be suprisingly important. He’s very gay, very quite, very bearded and is only hear because the bass player is hot and when prodded on it....

Well said. Also I read that with John Heder’s voice fo rsome reason.. don’t know why, his career ended as quickly as it began because he REALLY did not pick his films well. He saw that he was going to be in a film with David Spade and Rob Schinder and didn’t fire his agent for suggesting it. Meanwhile Scott and Ramona run into Sandra and Monique, Scott’s old classmates who just sorta.. show up every so oftne, often backing up Julie because every Alpha Bitch needs a posse. As Boscha has proven once you loose your posse you loose your bitchy powers. They also ask if Scott and Ramona are an item which leads to a fantagious visual gag. 

Also Stephen awkardly talks to the new couple, about how much Knives loves the band, and because why start reading the room now just sorta.. CASUALLY slips in the fact he knows her is because she and scott dated. 

Granted Knives action this book really EARNED her that curveball.. but still, it’s transparently clear she’s both not over Scott and Neil’s a placebo, and that she loves the band... how the fuck did you get through college, much less get two loyalish friends Steve. 

Kim tries to hide when she runs into Sarah whose with.. someon O Malley does not know, literally captioning it “I don’t know htis girl”. Fucking love that gag even if SOMEHOW kim is the roomate they all hate. Despite hte fact as the side story will bare out, her roommates are all pretty obnoxious, so i’ts probably because she’s the only sane person in that group and their VERY lucky kim just dind’t set the place on fire on her way out and let god do what he should’ve a long time ago. Also we meet Lynette, the band’s drummer who smokes “She must be evil” “Still hot though”... both accurate. Also Luke wilson is there.. no really. Just holy shit that’s awesome.  Okay so with all of that out of the way, it’s time for the show. So after a full volume’s build up , and a really cool build up in the page before we finally properly meet clash at the demonhead, and miss envy adams. 

Heck of  a reveal and not the only one as ramona realized what the audience probably already guessed....

Dun dun dun! And since I don’t like leaving a cliffhanger dangling lest I have to... we’ll be getting to this next week.. what you thought i’d say right now or tommorow? This was a lot. But no i’m not leaving you too long. Next week, Evil Ex Crossover! Ramona and Wallace become BFF’s! We learn what the deal with Scott and Envy is! Scott faces the Ken to his Ryu! And Wallace gets a boyfriend. All this and more next week. for now...

Final Thoughts: This one.. was a VERY rough one to review and it ties back to this volume’s biggest problem: it is not paced very well. Like the series as a whole it has a pretty easy going, slice of life pace. The only ones without this kind of easy pacing are 3 and 6, and even 3 has some slice of life bits, their just both more focused due to the events going on. This one... well....

Pretty much. While this one has very important stuff going on, Scott and ramona getting closer, ramona getting more fleshed out, Wallace showing how deep his character is, Kim also getting fleshed out quite a bit, Knives showing off her crazy side, setting up the next volume, the second ex fight.. it’s all just kinda.. jumbled together. It’s not really until the knives fight onward the book takes on some really solid pacing and really gets going.It’s not a BAD book: ther’es some REALLY good character stuff as I dug into.. but the pacing is just really loose and without the Evil Ex fight as an anchor and with ramona and scott just sorta.. getting to know one another, in both biblical and non biblical senses, it dosen’t have either of the series main narrative thrusts. Even the knvies subplot really amoutns to nothing for now, as Ramona dosen’t find out Scott’s a cheater, and only distrusts knives now. That’s about it. It does improve on book one in characterization, with eveyrone being MUCH cleearer in terms of who they are and settling into their iconic selves nicely. Wallace’s more selfless and protective side pops up, Ramona starts to show mroe of her personality good and bad, Scott’s better traits are mixed a bit mor eeven with the douche ones,  Knive’s far more unstable and violet stalker side emerges, and Stephen.. well fuck him, point is things are coming together.. but O’Malley still isn’t quite at peak power yet. Not bad and still worth a read like last time, just a bit uneeven is all. That being said... if you want O’Malley at his peak.. well then come back next week. Until then i’ll be doing my usual buisness of reviewing birds, refrencing simpsons and letterkenny, and putting my eyes back in after kim’s look up there. For now the sun’s setting and i’m out of here. 

[outerbxnks]

boneyard keggers - jj maybank

word count: 1.8k

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking. typical obx parties.

a/n: just finished writing + editing and it’s 5am so my brain is fried, please excuse errors! (also i suck at titles LMFAO)

requested: n/a

-

you brought the drink to your lips, allowing the burning liquid to make its way down your throat as you swayed happily to the music with your newfound friend, sarah. you’d just recently moved to the outer banks and were currently at your very first (supposedly notorious) boneyard kegger.

you quickly downed the remaining beer in your cup, and you figured since it was your first time at a kegger, you wanted to make it a night to remember. “i’m gonna go get another drink!” you told sarah, motioning to your cup. she shrugged, turning to her boyfriend and waving you off easily. you smirked, pushing your way through the crowd of strangers towards the large keg situated off to the side.

fresh drink in hand, you looked back to where your friend once stood, and noticed she and topper had both disappeared. shrugging, you moved to stand in a more secluded area, sipping at your drink. you didn’t mind being alone, in fact, it was nice. you loved sarah, but her friends (and boyfriend) were a lot. always going on about dirty pogues and whatnot, and a few names in particular stuck out, mainly some boys named john b and jj. not that you listened to their bullshit, anyways.

suddenly, you heard a commotion and pulled yourself up, trying to see what was happening. before you could even blink, a tall body came crashing into you, nearly knocking you right off your feet with the amount of alcohol in your system. “watch it!” you exclaimed, and he looked at you and back in the direction he’d come from anxiously, licking his lips. he glanced back at you, and then at the bucket hat situated on your head that you’d chosen to wear for the night. he seemed to ponder something, before he quickly snatched your hat right off of you.

you gasped in surprise, but before you could protest but he grabbed your hand, pulling you with him. “what are you doing?!” you demanded, trying to fight against him, though it was no use. he was incredibly strong, and you could barely stand up as it was. he ran with you in tow, choosing to ignore your questions. you arrived at the tree line, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he was quick to silence you with his lips on yours, pushing you and pinning you against a tree.

“where’d that piece of shit go?” an angered voice called out, and you heard what you assumed to be the footsteps of a group of people.

“who cares rafe, let’s just go back to the beach!” you recognized sarah’s pleading voice, faintly. you couldn’t process much else however, as you were currently occupied forcibly kissing a stranger.

“he couldn’t have gone far, he’s gotta be here!” the voice seemed to get closer to you, and you were sure by now they could see the outlines of your figures, making out against the tree. it was dark enough that they couldn’t see much more, though.

“rafe, look at them. they’re probably just some tourons getting it on! let’s just go man.” topper, you assumed.

“fine.” rafe finally muttered, and the group left. the boy who had you pinned pulled away from you then, peering out and ensuring the group had fully left. you attempted to catch your breath and blinked to process what had just happened. you’d certainly sobered up with the situation, but you were still beyond confused. he looked relieved, and you finally pushed him off of you.

he seemed to forget about you momentarily because he stumbled back, looking at you in surprise. “who the fuck do you think you are?” you snapped, and he took a step back, hands raised in the air in surrender.

“woah, there- calm down.” he tried, but you weren’t having any of it.

“calm down? some boy i’ve never met nearly runs me over, then proceeds to steal my hat, drag me into the fucking woods and then pins me against a tree and kisses me without my permission? what part of that should i be calm about?” you ranted, and he seemed to realize how poorly he’d thought his plan through.

“shit, you make it sound really bad when you say it like that.” at your unamused expression, his tone turned more serious. “i’m sorry, okay? you saw! i was being chased by a bunch of guys, and you happened to be my only idea of escape.” he explained, and you scoffed.

“whatever, if i leave are you going to chase me down too, or can i just go back to the party?” you asked sarcastically, and he opened his mouth (presumably to speak), before he decided otherwise, instead shaking his head and gesturing that you could leave. you turned to do so, making your way towards the crowd.

“hey, wait!” he called out, and you turned around with a huff, quirking a brow. “uh, thanks for at least.. you know. not making a scene when they were right there. i owe you one.” he scratched the back of his neck, and you looked at him ludicrously.

“uh.. you’re welcome?” your confusion was evident and you weren’t really sure how to respond. you two stared at each other for a moment, unspeaking. after a long, awkward moment you were desperate to break the tense silence, so you spoke up. “why were those guys after you, anyways?” you asked curiously, and he smirked.

“they came to get drinks at the keg, and i filled their cups with vinegar instead of vodka. can’t say they were too pleased.” he reminisced, and you gave him a ‘what the fuck?’ look. he laughed, “they’re bad guys, don’t worry. you should probably stay away from them.”

you scoffed, “oh please. i already know them. topper thornton and rafe cameron, resident rich assholes of the obx.” you confirmed, and he turned to you, confused. he now had the chance to properly look you over, and his face hardened once he caught sight of your clothes.

“you’re a kook.” he stated, his tone flat. you were confused at his sudden mood swing, until his words settled in and realization dawned on you.

“you must be a pogue.” he nodded, and you waited a moment. when he didn’t speak, you crossed your arms defiantly at his harsh gaze. “is there an issue?”

it was his turn to scoff, looking at you with distaste. “pogues and kooks don’t exactly get along.”

“you seemed fine a few minutes ago when you knew nothing about me. “i owe you one”, remember that? i just saved your ass from getting beat up, do you want me to go find them? i’m sure they’d be glad to pick up where you left off.” you spat, fed up with his attitude. he tensed, and after a moment deflated, giving into your intense expression.

“fine, you’re right. doesn’t change the fact that this can’t be any more than a one-time thing.” he muttered, and you quirked a brow, smirking.

“did you want it to be more than a one time thing?” you teased, and he flushed, turning away from you. “my name's y/n. how about you, oh-so mysterious stranger?”

he chuckled, and you noticed yourself really enjoying his company. “i’m jj.” he said simply, and you burst out laughing. he stared at you blankly.

“sorry, sorry- it’s just- of course you are. topper warned me about you. and i can see why; you’re clearly nothing but trouble.” you said thoughtfully, and jj arched a brow, teasingly.

“if i’m trouble, why are you still here?” he asked, stepping closer to you. you took a step back, he took a step forward. next thing you knew, you found yourself right back where you started, back to a tree and the handsome blonde trapping you against it. this time however, you didn’t object.

“well, lucky enough for you.. i like trouble.” you whispered, leaning closer to him. he caught on, quickly meeting you halfway in a heated kiss. this one was much more enjoyable than the first, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.

you broke the kiss only for air, and smiled up at the boy in front of you. you went to lean in again, but your phone ringing pulled your attention. not moving from your position in jj’s arms, you pulled it out of your pocket, seeing sarah’s name illuminating the screen. “shit.” you muttered, motioning for him to be quiet as you answered the phone. “hey sarah!”

“y/n, where are you? we’re heading home, rafe has a girl with him, so we gotta go. you don’t wanna get on his bad side.” you rolled your eyes. “i’ll meet you guys at the car in 5.” you assured her and hung up, not giving her a chance to respond. you turned your attention back to jj, and pouted. “looks like our time is up, loverboy.”

he shrugged, reaching down and snatching your phone out of your hand. you reached for it, but he held it high, only returning the device when he was done fiddling with it. looking down, you saw he’d put his number in your phone. “text me?”

you smiled brightly, leaning up and kissing his cheek, before slipping under the arm trapping you between his body and the tree. “will do.” you winked, walking backwards slowly. you gave a final waved before turning around fully and making your way up the beach.

“y/n wait!” jj called, running after you. you turned, and he pulled your bucket hat off his head and offered it to you. “you forgot this.” he smiled sheepishly, and you took it from his hands, but to his surprise, you only placed it gently back on his head.

“keep it. it looks better on you, anyways.” you winked, before quickly walking away, knowing if you were late then you’d be asked too many questions. jj watched your leaving figure in awe, shaking off his stupid smile and making his way back to his friends.

“y/n, there you are! finally, let’s go!” sarah whined, and you rolled your eyes, climbing in the back seat of topper’s car, the rest of the group piling in as well. “hey, what happened to your hat?” she asked curiously, and you waved her off, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“i have no idea, but who cares, it’s just a hat.” you mumbled, and she shrugged, turning her attention to a conversation with topper, and you pulled out your phone, making sure no one was paying attention as you texted jj.

“when can i see you again?”

you shut off the phone, looking out the window at the passing landscapes with a single thing on your mind, a distant smile found its way onto your lips. a buzzing in your hand caused you to lift the device, the bright screen illuminating your face.

“how does tomorrow at noon sound?”

you were definitely never going to forget your first boneyard kegger.