#i know a thing or two about the allure of really big sunglasses

[mrfunnyinthebank]

seth rollins has really hit a stride with his outfits recently in my opinion. i've been really pissed off about the way he dresses, because usually it just doesn't look good or it just doesn't suit him well

i really disliked seth at first because he felt fake to me. now i wonder if the uncomfortable feel of it, of this whole sense that this is a guy wearing a costume, plays into seth's current storyline

the more i've seen from him, and especially the more i see of him from the shield days, i don't think that this is just a guy who doesn't give a shit working for a paycheck - i think this is a passionate wrestler whose current gimmick is a guy who is miserable because he's trying to hide himself and be someone he's not

this is not a rhetorical question, please let me know if anyone has the answer: when did he start wearing the big sunglasses? when did he start hiding most of his face anytime he's not in the ring? because my guess is that that's when this era of seth rollins started

now that he's getting passionate and especially now that he and roman are finally letting themselves be in the same room together, i have the strong feeling that i've been getting worked

i'm very much looking forward to his match at wrestlemania. no matter what happens, i think he's about to snap and leave that era behind

[earthtoharlow]

Favorite Almost

2) the one where you catch feelings

Jack Harlow x Reader

a three part series

“It’s not fair to you or me to continue like this.”

When Jack finally walked out of Cassie's house that’s when the weight of the heartbreak settled in. You didn’t even have the energy to go into the privacy of your own room. You slid down the front of the refrigerator until you were leaning against it on the floor and started crying. The rain hitting the glass mirroring the tears falling down your cheeks.

The memories of all the fun times you and Jack shared began to flicker in your mind. The inside jokes, the laughter, the warmth of his embrace—the things that used to bring joy now suddenly became bittersweet. You felt haunted by the fact that your feelings for him became a catalyst for Jack ending things.

The more you sobbed the more the walls felt like they were caving in from knowing you were going to have to figure out how you were going to move on from someone that was never officially yours.

You felt so stupid, how could you be so foolish, so delusional to think that the superstar rapper shared the same feelings. You should’ve listened to Cassie in the beginning when she told you this was a bad idea.

*TWO MONTHS EARLIER*

“It's been forever since we’ve done this!” Cassie said as she applied sunscreen on her body. You nodded and let out a sigh of happiness. “Yeah, maybe you should move back to California and we could be doing this everyday.”

Cassie chuckled next to you and shook her head. “I’m good right here in Kentucky, and don’t act like you don’t like it here now. You’ve been hanging out with a certain someone every day.”

You just rolled your eyes, “It hasn’t been every day…” you said trying to defend yourself. “Where did you spend the night again?” Cassie said, giving you a pointed look but before you could answer she spoke again.

“and the night before—“

“and the night before that—“

“OK I GET IT!” You said cutting off her teasing and pulling your sunglasses over your eyes. Just as you were about to defend all the time you and Jack were spending together you felt your phone buzz next to you. Speak of the devil, it was Jack inviting you to his family’s cookout. Excitement mixed with hesitation filled the air.

Cassie, having noticed the expression on your face, questioned, “Let me guess, that’s Jack trying to interrupt our girl time?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, he just invited me to his family’s cookout.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Do you really think that’s a good idea? You guys are supposed to just be casual, remember?”

Cassie was right this probably wasn’t the best idea. You were really enjoying all the time you were spending with Jack and this would be the first time you guys hung out somewhere other than his home. There was a certain allure in the idea of stepping into his world even if it was just for a moment.

“A family cookout just seems a bit serious, family events are a big deal.” Cassie brows furrowed in concern.

“It’s just a laid back gathering.” You said trying to reassure your friend and lowkey yourself. The knowledge that it might not be a wise move lingered, but the desire to spend time with him triumphed over cautious reasoning.

She sighed, her worry evident, “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You know how these things can be.”

You offered a half-smile, and nodded appreciating her concern, “I get it. But, hey, it’s just a casual thing. No expectations.”

Cassie offered a supportive smile, “Alright, if you think it’s worth it, I’m here for you. Just keep your eyes open, okay?” subtle worry still in her eyes.

***

You smiled as you looked out the window as Jack pulled up to his family’s house. A comforting warmth enveloped you immediately, the home was inviting. Still, a knot of nerves filled in your stomach as Jack opened the car door for you. Your nerves took a pause when you felt a small spark when he grabbed your hand as he helped you out the car. You tried to ignore it the best you could but the spark ignited within you again when Jack’s hand gently settled on the small of your back.

You glanced at Jack, deep down hoping that you weren’t imagining it and hoping he felt it too, but he didn’t even look your way as he continued guiding you to the backyard. A heightened self awareness loomed with each step you took.

When you both stepped into the cookout the atmosphere buzzed with warmth, but an initial awkwardness settled in. His family exchanged puzzled glances, clearly unsure of who you were and why you were there when Jack introduced you as a friend.

Hearing Jack introduce you as a friend, stung. You found yourself mentally unpacking the unexpected hurt. As you unraveled the emotions, it became clear that the label had hit a nerve. The discomfort stemmed not from the term ‘friend,’ but from the realization that perhaps your feelings for him had quietly surpassed the boundaries of the casual relationship.

Thankfully you didn’t have time to dwell on your thoughts when Jack’s mom broke the tension with a warm smile. “The more, the merrier!” she exclaimed, taking a hold of your hand, dragging you into the kitchen to help with the food. You glanced over your shoulder at Jack, a mix of shock and a subtle happiness that played across your face as he gave you a small shrug in response.

After navigating the kitchen chaos with Maggie you couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth and inclusion that came with being invited to the family event. As you helped Maggie make the salad, she leaned in with a discreet smile and whispered, “You know, he’s mentioned you a couple of times. He’s so lucky to have such a down to earth friend like you.”

The word ‘friend’ echoed in your mind again just like it did earlier when Jack introduced you. The casual relationship, which seemed like a good idea a month ago, now felt like an anchor pulling you into a sea of unspoken wants and needs.

A stark realization took place —You didn’t want to be just his friend. The weight of unacknowledged feelings surged, leaving you grappling with the silent yearning for something more profound in a connection that had begun to outgrow the constraints of a casual relationship.

You continued to chop up the lettuce and smiled back at Maggie in response as you mentally freaked out. This was not supposed to happen. It gets worse when Jack walks into the kitchen and without hesitation places a gentle kiss on your cheek. You were momentarily frozen in your spot at the counter, his actions were starting to blur the lines especially after he just declared to everyone you were just friends.

The rest of the cookout flew by like a hazy montage as you there on autopilot. The realization that you caught feelings loomed over you like a dark cloud. With each touch and shared laughter with Jack that evening the voice in your head was telling you to let go to avoid any potential heartbreak. Yet you knew deep down that you didn’t want to let go. You had begun to cherish all the time you two spent together, breaking those ties would feel like letting go of precious treasure.

In the quiet aftermath of the evening the two of you laid in the comfort of his bed engaging in pillow talk when Jack gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, and tenderly pushed the strands of hair from your face. As Jack murmured, “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t you think?” Your heart sank. The realization that he didn’t want anything to change hung in the air, and though his words held a sense of comfort, they held a weight of hurt for you.

“Yeah, it’s great,” you replied with a forced smile, your voice betraying the subtle hurt beneath the surface. Despite the ache in your heart and no matter how pathetic it sounded, you knew that after today you’d gladly settle for the bare minimum and continue casually hooking up rather than deal with the stark reality of losing him for good.

So you decide to keep your feelings to yourself for now, not wanting to disrupt what you two have going on.

What’s the worst that could happen by staying silent?

***

AN: please let me know your thoughts 💋 one more part left

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @mace23477 @snows-blog-of-fiction @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @vinniehackersbaee @cassies-cookies

[aemonds-sapphire]

Sweet Tooth — Gojo x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Gojo has a sweet tooth, and he doesn’t really see a reason as to why he can’t combine his love for candy with his desire for you.

Warnings: NSFW. Foodplay. Dry humping. Pussy slide. Cumplay. Praise. Pure filth! After sex fluff.

A/N: Gege Akutami revealed that Gojo developed a sweet tooth from eating too many sweets in order to keep his brain stimulated. So, obviously, I took the liberty to write filthy smut about it.

Word count: 3.2k

“You know... one of these days you’re going to get cavities from all the sweets you consume.”

“Excuse me?” Gojo turned his head to face you as he beheaded a gummy bear with his front teeth. “My oral hygiene is impeccable,” he added springing his index finger up, while opened his mouth to show you perfect row of clean teeth up to prove a point.

You glared at him adoringly, scooting closer on your bed to lean in on him. A pair of black round shades met your eyes before you lowered your head to capture the candy trapped between his lips with your own.

He did nothing to stop you, but instead let out a dramatic gasp. “First, you insult my oral hygiene, and now you’re stealing my sweets?”

“You are such a drama queen,” you chuckled, chewing the rubbery candy while you straddled his hips. “The great Gojo Satoru throwing a fit over stolen candies. What would people say?”

Two big and strong hands came to grip your waist to help you settle comfortably on top of him.

“I’ll take my chances,” he grinned, caressing the hem of your panties. “But next time you try to steal my sweets, I will have Infinity on.”

Deep down, you knew he wouldn’t do that. Least of of all now, since activating it would literally send you flying across the room.

“You’re picking candy over me?” you pouted, leaning once more to give him a privileged view of your breasts. “This relationship is doomed.”

Gojo brought one hand to remove the sunglasses off his face, allowing his mesmerising sky blue eyes to fall on your tempting cleavage. His other free slid down the curve of your ass to land a soft smack, causing you to jolt to have your heated pussy now fully pressed against his hardening cock.

“Why should I have to choose when I can have both?”

Something in his voice had changed, and you felt the heat in your lower abdomen intensify as he bucked his hips into yours ever so gently, but more than enough to have the swell of his cock brush against your clit.

Gojo’s hand reached out to a cup filled with an obnoxious variety of sweets, and he promptly grabbed one more gummy bear. He brought it to his lips, holding it firmly in place between his teeth. He smacked your other ass cheek, sending you forward and causing you to balance your body with your arms on either side oh his head.

A devious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he hooked his index finger in your top to have you lower yourself on him even more.

Instinctively, you wrapped your lips around the candy, but just as your were about to take a bite, he pulled you into a hungry kiss; it caused you to lose your hold on the sweet, but his tongue promptly push it inside your mouth. Reflexively, you started sliding along his covered cock, yearning for more and more friction.

You didn’t even notice that he was holding yet one more candy in his hand until he broke the kiss.

A lollipop.

Your eyes narrowed at him, suspiciously. “What?”

Gojo gave the round candy a short lick, not holding back a mischievous grin. “Lean back.”

“Why?”

You brought your hands to rest on his muscular chest for support. Gojo surely knew how to keep you entertained in the bedroom; he had a way of knowing exactly which strings to pulls with you in order to make things interesting. But when your eyes landed on his tongue teasingly swirling around the lollipop, a rush of tingles caused your clit to swell even more.

“Do as I say,” he insisted trough hooded eyes, his beautiful long white lashes framing them perfectly. “You’ll like it.”

To be honest, you had no doubt that you would, which was why you settled for doing exactly as told, leaning back and gripping his thighs with both hands to keep your balance.

Gojo took his sweet time admiring your delicious body, from top to bottom, only to have his eyes linger on your tight underwear.

“Be a good girl and let me see that clit.”

The way his words came out in such a velvety delight had your heartbeat quicken as a gush of wetness poured out of you clenching pussy.

He kept twirling the candy in his mouth, and only came to a halt when you slowly pulled the fabric to the side.

Having this handsome man literally drooling for you did wonders to your ego; his entire attention was on you.

“Let me see more of it...”

You felt his cock twitch underneath you when you had your other hand release the grip on his thigh to join your other. Gojo Satoru took pride in how easily he could turn you on. He would get so cocky and wouldn’t miss a chance to remind you that he could easily have you throbbing for him.

Once two of your fingers spread your pussy lips, a low growl came from his throat and his hips jerked up.

“So swollen...” he stated, sliding the lollipop out of his mouth. “Look at how wet you are for me... my pants are soaked.”

You did’t need to look down to verify what he had just said; you could feel the fabric of his sweatpants swallowing all of your juices. Realizing that this was turning you on far more than intended, you locked your two fingers in a v shape and began sliding them along your folds, barely stroking your clit.

That was enough to get a more fiery reaction from him.

Gojo had one hand tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants — most likely to help with the restriction as he had a considerable sized cock —, and the other came to rest near your crotch, the lollipop still in his grip.

“Gojo...” you started, stopping your fingers from moving. ‘What are you—“

He bit his lower lip for a second, as if pondering his next move. Then his gorgeous face met yours with his trademark dashing smile.

“Just keep them parted.”

And just like that, he jerked his hand forward, pressing the lollipop against your clit. The sudden pressure caused you to jolt slightly as you removed your fingers, feeling your pussy lips clamping down on the candy.

“Fuck...” you heard Gojo’s voice come out in heavy pants. “Sweet pussy... so hungry for more...”

He kept alternating the pressure with which he teased your clit, drawing the most erratic moans from you as sticky sounds started to fill the room. You kept your panties firmly pulled to the side, but had to grip his thigh tightly to maintain the position. This was surprisingly hot. Having your folds gripping the lollipop as he ran it up and down your slit.

After a few more seconds of intense stimulation, he removed the candy from you with a wet pop.

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for what you witnessed next: the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in the world brought the dripping lollipop to his lips, drinking in your juices mixed with the sugary liquid.

“Hmm...” he moaned, his hips swaying up and down as you saw him free his cock from his pant, strings of precum coating his skin. “So fucking delicious.”

“Oh my god...” you breathed, not believing how much hotter this man could get.

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment a he suckled on it before he glared at you.

“You need to taste this.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his offering. “Satoru...”

He released the candy from his mouth and brought downwards to your folds, dragging it along your slit and fold to gather a decent amount of juices. Once he was satisfied with it, he propped himself up with on his elbow.

“Open.”

You immediately parted your lips, feeling it slide slowly inside your mouth.

“Good girl... suck on it.”

Locking your eyes with his, you enveloped it with your tongue to taste the sweetness as well as your warmth on it.

Gojo was visibly satisfied, twirling the stick in between his fingers, and sliding the lollipop in and out, fucking your mouth with it. Everything was happening rather quickly, but the entire setting was proving itself to be so alluring, that you had no other choice but to embrace it. Letting go of your panties, you plated both hands on his hip bones and angled your pussy to weigh down on his cock.

A sudden hiss left his lips as he felt your wet underwear drag along his length.

“No. I want more than that,” he mumbled impatiently, yanking the fabric out of his way. “Sit on my cock.”

Even though your mind was hazy from having the lollipop being used as a fuck toy, you managed to comply with his request and eagerly positioned yourself on his cock, the veiny bulge immediately snuggling between your slick folds.

For someone who was known to excel at everything he had his hands on, Gojo surely lived up to his reputation even when being intimate with someone. Even through his easygoing personality, you were aware that he always put 101% of himself in everything he did.

And in bed, it meant focusing on your pleasure before anything else.

He let the lollipop sit in your mouth as he gripped your waist, setting a slow and sensual pace. “Look down.”

Your eyes left his beautiful face only to be met with the mouthwatering sight of his veiny cock being pressed flat against his lower abdomen as your pussy lips slid along, coating the underside of his throbbing bulge. Gojo’s breath was spilling in breathy pants, clearly struggling to hold back at the overwhelming sensation of having your pussy lips engulfing him.

“Good girl... good girl...”

His words of praise only intensified your hunger for more, so you kept grinding your bare pussy and milking more and more precum from his length. In no time, a few droplets of clear liquid started sliding down his sides from the constant rhythmic sway of your hips.

“My turn,” you let out, bringing the lollipop down to collect some of his sweet liquid with it.

Gojo’s mouth fell open in utter surprise, eyes following your every move. You wrapped your tongue around the candy, tasting the warm liquid boosted with specs of sugar. He raised his hips reflexively and let out a few deep moans, dragging you along his cock with revived hunger.

“Wanna taste?” You moaned around the sweet candy, feeling the coil deep within your tummy tightening from all the stimulation.

You brought it down to his lower abdomen once more, and with a short swipe across his damp skin, you extended your arm towards his face.

“Go on, Satoru,” you cooed teasingly. “Taste yourself.”

He darted his tongue out, welcoming his own precum that dripped from the candy. Your hips faltered for a second as your foggy brain focused on the erotic sight in front of you. He greedily sucked on it in between moans and swirls, never breaking eye contact with you.

He licked his lips as he slid the candy back in your mouth. “Not to brag, but I taste good.”

If not for the overwhelming need to cum, you would have entertained his gigantic ego, but instead you resumed your strokes along his cock, thankful that his strong hands were able to keep your pace from wavering.

“I’m not gonna last much longer...” he warned much to your surprise.

That beat any praise he could give you with words. You figured he hadn’t anticipated just how incredible this would feel, especially considering how much more efficient you had become at pleasuring him.

You tried to restrain your moans, but his hips jerking up worked to magnify your own delight. “Wait... I’m almost there...”

Your body pressed down against his in a desperate attempt to reach your high. His abs flexed with each thrust from you and his hands tightened so hard against your hips that you were sure a few marks would stain your skin afterwards.

“I’m gonna... fuck...”

The steady pace he you both had been able to set completely broke down into ragged jerks of his hips as your folds kept coating him in you juices. A few more wet sounds and pump proved to be the last straw for the jujutsu sorcerer, causing a guttural growl to escape his gaping mouth. His body started shaking from intense pleasure as hot spurts of cum shot from his cock, glazing his flushed and sweaty torso with strings of creamy liquid. The turf of white hair that spread from his navel towards the base oh his cock was completely drenched in a mixture of cum, sweat and precum.

“Fuck!” Gojo grunted in utmost bliss, sliding one hand to your ass ad giving it a loud smack. “Such a good girl...”

Feeling his cock twitch in between your pussy lips and his enticing echoes of pleasure was the last incentive you need to get pushed over the edge. You were crying out with every roll of your hips and brush of your clit along his throbbing cock.

“You’re so hot... you’re so hot...” you mumbled mindlessly, not even bothering to hold the lollipop in place as it fell from your mouth.

Gojo drank in the vision of you reaching your high in a mixture of wonder and pride. Your breasts bounced freely with the rest of your body, and with a few more slaps from his hand on your ass cheek, you came to a stop, your pussy clenching around nothing in waves of pleasure. It was too much, and you leaned forward, digging your nails on his slick abdomen, desperate for something to ground you as you peaked up high. You felt both your legs begin tremble violently, and that’s when he gripped both your thighs with his hands to keep you from jerking too much.

“That’s it... good girl,” he praised sweetly, massaging your quivering thighs as you regained your senses. “Shh... you did so well.”

He hand slid up to grip your arms, helping you keep your balance. You felt beads o sweat drip down your neck and back, causing the fabric of your to to stick to your skin.

“Holy fuck....” you said, still awestruck and struggling to even out your erratic breathing.

Gojo smiled at you. “You are extremely sexy, did you know that?”

You merely nodded absentmindedly, blinking a few times to clear your field of vision from the haziness of an amazing orgasm.

“What?” Gojo inquired as he saw your eyes roam around where he was laying.

Finding the object of your interest, your lips curled up in a devilish smirk.

“Let’s not waste this, shall we?” You suggested, dragging the sticky candy across a shallow puddle of cum on the dip of his abs.

You offered it to him, and he arched an eyebrow at you. “And you say I like sweets.”

He took the stick from your fingers and promptly slipped the round candy past his lips. You glared at him expectantly as he suckled on it.

Gojo Satoru nodded, clearly giving it his seal of approval. “Not bad. I can see why you like swallowing my cum so much.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed as he cleaned up the mess on his torso with his shirt before taking it off and tossing it to the floor.

“Oh my god... I’m exhausted...” you mumbled, dropping on your side next to him.

“Me too,” Gojo mused from beside you, his breath coming out in more regular pants.

You shot him a sceptic glare, doubting his words. He had the ability to go on for a crazy amount of rounds as if he was using up the same amount of energy you used when doing the dishes. His reverse cursed technique did wonders in keeping not only his brain fresh, but his overall stamina.

“No, you’re not,” you jabbed a finger at him accusingly before discarding your drenched top to the side. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” you chuckled.

A few minutes rolled by in a familiar and comfortable silence.

“It was good...” Gojo suddenly said, twirling the lollipop in his mouth.

You giggled, wiping the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand. “That was really... really good...”

A few strands of damp white hair were sticking to his forehead, and you seized the moment to look at the beautiful man before you; his eyes were firmly shut as he enjoyed the feeling of your fingers caressing his face.

Gojo Satoru had one heck of a brain. Many envied him for it, but in time you realized that even for someone who managed changed the balance of the world when he was born, it could become too draining at times. Of course, he would never admit that. His pride was too great.

But it was all part of his charm, you figured. You relished in these moments of raw intimacy, because they reminded you of how much of him was human.

“Hey...” you heard his lazy voice. “You’re not gonna swap my cock for lollipops now, are you?”

Your heart clenched in an outburst of affection. “No, Satoru. I could never.”

He was a little kid at heart, truly.

A satisfied smile curled his lips faintly. “Good. I don’t like competition.”

“You haven’t known competition from the moment you were born, you silly.”

A beautiful pair of dreamy blue eyes met yours. “Hmm, true. But I don’t like the thought of it,” he mumbled into the palm of your hand, pressing a loving kiss. “I don’t know how you weak people handle it.”

That last sentence would have probably sparked a heated argument among fellow jujutsu sorcery, but you had grown used to this banter

You gripped his chin with your fingers, offering a teasing smile. “Call me weak again and I’m heading out to buy a stack of various lollipops. Different shapes and sizes.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, the lollipop suddenly freezing in his mouth. “Tell you what,” he started, dragging his fingers along his white locks of hair. “You are my favourite weak person.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

Just as you prepared to smack his arm, the sudden movement was slowed down and met an invisible force field that repelled you from touching him.

You watched as your hand hovered closely to his arm, but unable to make contact.

Gojo’s damn Infinity.

“You are a cheater, Gojo Satoru,” you huffed in annoyance, dropping your hand on the bed with a thump.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to activate it,” he smiled teasingly, loving just how much he riled you up.

“Bullshit. You can decide what touches you or not.”

He nodded in agreement. “Sure, based on the level of threat the person or object poses.”

Oh?

“So... I posed a threat to you?” you mused, following his logic and not able to hold back a victorious smile. “But... didn’t you just call me weak a moment ago?”

His eyes widened slightly at your remark as you caught him off guard with your deduction.

“Touché, sweetheart.”

-

Masterlist

[djmarinizelablog]

Ultimate Bonding Experience

Summary:

Hange and Moblit follow Levi and Petra on a date. It's a disaster.

Tags:

one-shot, fluff and humor, nonbinary Hange, they/them pronouns for Hange, officemates, best friends forever, friends to lovers, jealous Hange

Notes:

This is for the Levihan Filo Week Day 4 Prompt, Tourist Destinations, featuring Greenbelt, Makati (Yes, the audacity of me.)

—

"You're going out on a date with Petra?” Hange stood up too quickly, knocking down the pen holder on their office desk in process. “As in… Petra Rall? From the Marketing Department? As in, sweet-as-candy, honey-bunny, gorgeous glam girl Petra?”

Levi swiveled his computer chair to face his best friend. "She asked me out."

"Hmm. And you didn't say no?" Hange was absentmindedly tapping the end of the pencil against their lower lip.

He gave a half-shrug. "Wanted to try something new for a change."

This was really new. Hange was incredulous. Levi never went on dates. Levi went on food trips and grocery shopping and karaoke nights (mainly due to Hange’s persistent nagging), but he never agreed to a date. There were always other people around whenever they hung out. The two of them had been best friends since college, and now as colleagues, Hange could tell from the numerous awkward and sort-of romantic encounters with Levi that Petra wasn't exactly his type.

"Is this a joke? Is this for a dare?" Hange kept prodding. They would bombard him with questions nonstop until he gave in. “Did you hit your head somewhere? Are you dying?”

"No, I just told you, Four-Eyes, I wanted to try something new.” Levi returned to his work and continued typing on his computer. “She said she already has planned something for tomorrow."

"This isn't you, Levi. You don't like itineraries," Hange said, sitting down to compose themself, gripping the pencil in their hand and holding it too tightly against the notepad.

"Maybe it's about time I do."

“So you’re choosing her over me?” Hange was already upset. Their hand was already shaking at this point, the tip of their pencil threatening to break. Levi would usually hang out with them to binge-watch a show or series on Saturdays over pizza and cheap beer, which reminded her, “What about our UBE?”

“Our—what?” He looked over his shoulder, confused.

Hange gave him a hopeful smile, hand still resting on the paper. “Our Ultimate Bonding... Experience?”

Levi glued his eyes to his computer screen once more. “You can Netflix and chill on your own for one night.”

The pencil snapped in half.

—

It was only 6 pm and Hange had already downed half a bucket of beers this Friday evening. Tomorrow morning, Levi would meet up with Petra somewhere for their date, maybe have lunch, a movie, some hand-holding and kissing, and then the two would possibly end it up with a bang. Something was really boiling deep inside Hange as these imagined scenes flashed through their mind.

And Erwin had to bear with them for tonight.

"I just don't understand, 'Win," Hange started, "Why would he do this? Why would he trade our pizza night for a girl he can't even relate to?"

Erwin was Hange and Levi's colleague in the same department before he got promoted to an executive position in corporate. Times like this, he would lend an ear to his friends' complaints and act as some sort of a part-time counselor, part-time therapist, and full-time drinking buddy.

Hange should be thankful Erwin had never charged them for these sessions before, but now with all of their whining, he was probably regretting that he gave them for free.

"Last I checked, you guys are just best buddies," Erwin commented. "Have you ever told him how much he means to you?"

Hange pouted.

"I'll take that as a no," Erwin said.

Their friend had a point.

"I can imagine it already, " Hange mused, eyes already watery, "I can imagine him walking down the aisle with pretty-face Petra and making babies with her, while I end up becoming that unknown relative who sends them presents for Christmas every year."

"Ah, I can imagine all the regrets you'll be having for the rest of your life."

Hange grabbed a fistful of hair in both hands. "What do I do now? I want Levi to be happy, I really do. I want to see him be happy, even if it's not with me. But why am I getting all riled up about this?"

"Then follow him," Erwin simply said as he wiped the beer of his mouth with his sleeve. "Follow him to the ends of the earth. Maybe you'll see for yourself."

Erwin had meant it as a figurative speech. When he said follow, he meant Hange supporting Levi all the way through. He never meant Hange stalking their best friend on his date.

Obviously, Hange had gotten it all wrong, because now they just blinked once, twice, a grin forming on their face. As if an epiphany had appeared before them. "Hmm. You're right."

Follow him.

This could be the greatest thing that Erwin Smith had ever come up with. Brilliant idea. Superb, even. One-of-a-kind strategy by none other than the genius Erwin Smith—oh, yes, yes, yes.

Erwin was still finishing up his beer when Hange tackled him into a hug out of gratitude, their smile wider than before. "You really are the best of the best, you know that?" They told him. This could work, Hange thought.

The plan was to follow Levi, literally.

—

"Boss, why did you pay me a hundred bucks to follow them?"

Hange was wringing their hands together. "We’re doing this together, Moblit! I wanna see how Levi acts around this girl."

"That's it?" Poor Moblit couldn't believe what he's hearing.

"I just wanna make sure he's making a good impression!"

They’re both sitting in a cafe right across Levi’s apartment. He and Hange were dressed up in plain clothes with matching sunglasses and baseball caps. Moblit had no choice; Hange was going to strangle his neck if he declined.

Moblit rested his head against his palm. "Aren't you jealous?"

"Pffft, me? Jealous?" The sour look on Hange's face was enough to tell Moblit that they weren't fooling anybody. It was just Levi’s attitude towards the entire ordeal that was tearing Hange apart. “I’m sure I’m not being rude.”

Moblit scratched his head and sighed. Hange as a boss could be really demanding at times, but the two of them were also friends in real life, which is why he agreed to this. "I thought Petra was head over heels for Oluo?"

"I thought so, too."

"He's dense, though," Moblit said. "Maybe this was just a ruse to get Oluo to confess?"

But Hange was already distracted by the sight of Levi coming out of the building.

"Ooh, he's leaving." Hange pointed towards the familiar figure. They then put their shades on as part of their undercover mission. "Let's go."

The two of them hid behind the fast food mascot of the big fat stupid ugly bee. Levi really knew how to dress up, Hange had noticed. He was wearing a plain button-up with dark pants, his hair neatly trimmed and his face cleanly shaven. He never dressed up like this whenever they hung out. It hurt Hange to see him this handsome. Levi then headed straight for the nearest station and waited for the next train to arrive. Hange and Moblit then took the same train but stayed on the other rail cart, catching a glimpse of Levi every now and then to make sure that he hadn't alighted by then.

“What would you do if they do end up together, Boss?” Moblit had to ask.

“I'd sign my life away as a single person for the rest of my years. Be an old cat person, maybe.”

The skyscrapers of Makati were passing them by, huge billboards left and right of commercial ads and government campaigns looming over them. If they looked far enough, they could see shanties and informal settlers nested in small alleys here and there. Hange had been seeing this for the past few years of their lives; Metro Manila could be daunting, but they wished they could spend away from the noisiness and busyness of the capital.

“He's getting out at Ayala Station, Boss!" Moblit pointed out. "They’re probably meeting somewhere in Greenbelt.”

“Ah, fancy-schmancy. Who could have known?”

Makati was the place only for the very rich, or for the very poor. There was no in between. Nobody dared to bat an eyelash at the rickety houses behind the skyscrapers. The shopping district and the high-end restaurants where affluent people would gather: celebrities, business executives, expatriates, anyone who could call themselves rich, rich, rich. Hange was none of those. Levi wasn't either, but he could easily pass off as one if he wanted to.

When they got off at the station, Hange and Moblit crouched behind the dumpster, craning their necks enough to get a glimpse of Levi coming up to Petra who stood waiting in front of the fountain.

“Ah, I’m so glad you’re here,” Petra said, her smile warm and happy as Levi walked alongside her. “Shall we?”

Petra was effortlessly gorgeous. She had her hair clipped into place, her slender figure matching the nice summer dress that she wore. She had also put on some light makeup, but even without it, Hange could tell that Petra would still be as breathtaking.

There really wasn't anything that Hange could hate about Petra Rall. Petra was attractive and alluring, sweet and shy, probably the ultimate dream girl of every person in their office. Hange would date Petra if she were even into them, provided the two of them had a spark.

But Hange's attention was all for Levi. Always had been. Always will be.

"Shall we, Boss?" Moblit interrupted Hange's train of thought.

"Right."

Tonight they felt that they had to accept the possibility of Levi ending up with someone else. Regardless of how this would end, Hange had decided they'd be there for him.

—

They didn't really blend in with this fancy-schmancy place. This was one of the most expensive fashion malls in the area; the price tags made broke people cry, and the restaurants were considered artisan for their taste. People were dressed up in crisp polos and cocktail dresses, the faint smell of perfume wafting here and there. The gardens had a beautiful landscape, stoned paths paving the way, and the lights were carefully draped on the trees around them, glowing like stars. It was a romantic setup for lovers.

Petra was pointing out all the different sights around the area, holding onto Levi's arm. Levi remained stiff all throughout their date, not even shedding a single ounce of emotion when Petra popped a joke. It ended up being a lousy one, though, since Levi didn't even scoff. Hange felt smug after that; their own jokes were terrible as well, but at least Levi would call them out for that.

"I think it's going well, don't you, Boss?" Hange's assistant teased.

“Oh, yeah, perfect, I can see how compatible they are.” Hange was being sarcastic.

Petra had chosen a place called People's Palace. It had a five-star rating on the internet, and even the cheapest item on the menu could break a whole in someone's wallet. There was no way they could eat there. Levi didn't even protest, though. He must have been saving up for this all along. Thankfully, the restaurant's walls were a solid transparent glass, and Hange could see the two of them from afar without having to go in.

Petra was saying something in a hushed tone when Levi came over to her side. He then put a hand on her face, tenderly brushing her cheek, as if he were about to go in for a kiss.

The moment Levi held Petra that close, Hange had to stifle their gasp which ended up like a strangled cry.

The sound made Levi look over his shoulder. Moblit had to cup his hand over Hange's mouth to shush them up, pulling them down behind the huge pots of plants.

"You alright?" Petra asked him, craning her neck towards the source of the sound as well. "What was that?"

Levi clicked his tongue. "Probably some lost bird. Well, more like a dying one."

The two went back to their meals and didn't bother to check if they were being followed. Moblit then let go of Hange and sighed in relief. They were safe, for now.

Everyone in the restaurant looked classy and elegant, soft lights all over the room. After Levi had paid for the meal (he didn't look too happy when he saw the check), he and Petra stood up and exited through the other door on the farthest end. Hange had forgotten about that. The People's Palace had an entryway connecting to the indoor gardens. They would have to enter the premise in order to follow Levi and Petra.

Without any further thought, Hange immediately stood up to barge into the restaurant, urging their assistant to follow. "They're probably confessing to each other in the gardens!" Hange was already right through the entrance. "Moblit, hurry up, I need to—"

"Boss, watch out!"

The warning came in too late. Hange had already knocked down a drink from the waiter's tray right behind them, the liquid spilling all onto the customer sitting nearest to where they were. The huge beefy man was furious, the steam already coming out of his reddened ears.

"Why, you, son-of-a-gun—"

Hange held up both hands in front of their face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"Do you even belong here, you prick?" The stranger grabbed the front of Hange's oversized shirt. There were gasps from other customers, and one of the servers left to call the manager.

"Please, don't!"

The man started shaking Hange. "Filthy, pathetic, piece of—"

Somebody grabbed his wrist before he could even do anything else. "Let go."

It was Levi.

"And who the fuck are you?"

He was small, but his presence was intimidating, firm. "My friend already apologized. Isn't that enough?"

The stranger released his hold of Hange and held out the stained fabric. "Fucking pay for this shirt, asshole!"

Hange was mouthing 'sorry, sorry, sorry,' to him, their eyes filled with apology. Levi didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, he quickly took out twenty bucks from his wallet and shoved it into the huge man's hand. He then grabbed his friend by the elbow. "Hange, come on."

"Hey, this isn't enough, shortstack," the stranger grumbled, crumpling the bill. He gestured once more to his stained shirt. "Do you know how much I bought this for?"

"You could buy a similar one from one of the thrift stores downtown for less than half the price. I doubt anybody would notice." He tugged at Hange again and headed for the exit.

"What did you say, you little—"

They were out of the restaurant before the man could even finish. The manager had kept the customer in his seat, trying to console him with a discounted coupon.

Outside was a breath of fresh air, the coolness of it enough to clear their minds.

“You alright?”

Hange was still trembling. Their lips quivered, too. They had never been roughly-held like that before. Levi calmed them down by rubbing their back, urging them to take slow, steady breaths.

"Levi?" Petra called after the two of them. "Are we still heading to the movie?"

Hange had feared this all along. They didn't want to ruin his date with Petra; they merely wanted to see Levi, and now they had done it. Hange held their own face in both hands. Levi saw it and knew what he had to do.

“I’m sorry, Petra, but we should probably call it off at this point.”

"Should we re-sched?"

Levi paused before responding. "I had a good time tonight, Petra. But I think... once is enough.

“Oh. Okay.” Petra stood still for a moment, disappointed. They expected her to cause a scene, to thrash at him or at Hange, and then complain about her evening. But to Petra's credit, she merely broke into a smile and said, "Thanks for giving me a chance, Levi. I had a good time, too. You guys enjoy the rest of the night."

The huge beefy man suddenly burst out of the glass door, the restaurant manager no longer able to hold him back. "You fucking punks, I'm going to call the police—"

Hange hid behind Levi out of instinct, which didn't make any sense, considering that he was a couple inches shorter than them. "What now?" Their hand was still in his.

"Go ahead, Petra's safe with me," Moblit assured them. "I'll text you guys once we get home safely."

Levi nodded and took off with Hange.

They ran past the gardens, past the expensive shops, past the fountains and the bright lights. Everything seemed like a blur. Hange's senses had overloaded their brain at this point, especially since Levi's hand was still holding on to theirs. It was warm. They never expected any of these to happen. Levi would look over his shoulder once in a while to see if Hange could still keep up. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, and with every tug of their hand, Hange felt like they were living in a dream. The two of them had already reached the station, heavily panting as they clutched their chest.

"So much for trailing me all this time, Four-Eyes," Levi heaved. He knew.

Hange was beyond apologetic. "I'm sorry, okay! I just wanted to see how you'd act around someone while on a date."

Levi made another scoffing sound. For a minute, Hange thought he was mad. But the intensity in his eyes was full of longing, like somehow, he did want Hange to follow him. And then Levi sighed. "Erwin told me you might be spying; my suspicions were confirmed when I saw you hiding behind the plants."

“Oh.” Hange had nothing else to say. “Well, then, I, uhm, I should probably head home. Sorry for ruining your date."

They were about to leave when Levi held their hand once again, stopping Hange in their tracks. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"You already ruined my date, so you might as well hang out with me for the rest of the night."

Hange couldn't believe what they were hearing. It was almost too good to be true. But the reality dawned upon them; they were still in Makati, and they couldn’t really afford any of these places. "Uh… well, I don't really have any money, and I'm not really sure I want to dine here…"

"It's fine,” Levi said. “I know a place to go."

-------

Part 2 coming up soon!

[mimizepp]

abba! surprise birthday date scenarios!!!

BB DESERVES THE BEST BDAY SURPRISE <3 ty for the request + i loved writing this !!!!! also no i didn’t post this with just fifteen minutes left in his birthday what are you talking about.. ha ha...

** edit: now that i revisit i see that i basically wrote this like a oneshot.. so i’m giving this it’s proper title as such **

abbacchio surprise bday date oneshot !!!

abbacchio normally treated his birthday just like any other day of the year. with you, he’s tried his best to humor your (admittedly) adorable attempts and try his best to celebrate himself. he actually kind of looks forward to the big day, now that he has you to spend it with.

-

leone grumbles quietly as you wake him with twice the amount of usual kisses. you leave your spot in bed to get him a nice cup of tea to start his morning. somehow he nuzzles even further into his pillow, wishing he could sleep the day away and get back on with his normal routine. buuut once he hears your sweet little voice call out ‘get up, birthday boy!’ from the doorway, he gives in (and is blushing like craaazy).

as the two of you eat a quiet breakfast you’re constantly checking the time, hoping it’s not noticeable. leone takes notice immediately but doesn’t question it, not wanting to spoil your potential surprises for him. he thinks it’s incredibly sweet, seeing you so discreetly excited about wherever you’re planning to take him. just to tease a little bit, he takes his time finishing up his meal.

‘leone...’ you laugh, slightly antsy due to time constraints, ‘i know we got up a little late today, but... we don’t have to take our time with.. everything.’ you emphasize the final word, glancing down at his plate. he smirks slightly, amused. he loves pushing your buttons.

‘hm?’ leone fakes a puzzled expression, avoiding eye contact so he doesn’t start laughing right in your face. he slowly brings his tea up to his mouth and is hardly able to conceal his pursed lips.

you sigh with a smile, caught up with his usual antics. ‘you’re so annoying.’ you stand and walk around the table to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, ‘be ready to get out of here by eleven.’ leone closes his eyes, pleased with how his birthday has gone so far.

some months ago you decided to book a private museum tour of the ‘poor souls church’, san severo chapel, for leone’s birthday. when you looked online the site seemed just as moody and alluring as your boyfriend, which was perfect. you knew he would enjoy the place, especially with the tour being privately booked (no lines, no random people to make small-talk with, nothing that could bother him).

leone was dressed up all nice and pretty by 10:45. he wore black, perfectly fitted pants with a thin black v-neck sweater that dipped down just the right amount, and ideally hugged his strong form. his hair was tied back in a messy bun, and damn did he look perfect. leone also put on a well-worn pair of dr martens, and his light purple lipstick had his lips looking delicious as ever.

your eyes widened at his delectable appearance, earning you a soft chuckle from your boyfriend. leone grabs some sunglasses as the two of you leave his home. the day is lovely, the atmosphere nice but not too warm. you start walking towards the museum, and it’s only about a twenty minute trek to get there. the two of you hold hands the entire way, a smile lingering on leone’s face as he notices your growing excitement. all he can do is wait and wonder.

upon arrival to the museum, leone freezes dead in his tracks, ‘what the fuck..’ he looks to you, nearly speechless.

you feel worried for a moment, already preparing an apology and plan b for the day. fuck fuck FUCK why couldn’t you have chosen that other museum.. the one with all those historical things! he would have loved those, dammnit.

‘h-how did you know?? i’ve been wanting to come here forever! i even thought about reserving tickets for us, but no dates were ever open...” he looks up at the chapel wondrously, lifting his sunglasses to get a clearer view. he is absolutely infatuated with the place.

‘wha-?’ you experience so much shock and relief, all at once. what a wonderful surprise this has been for the both of you!

leone is so incredibly ‘peppy’ the entire tour. he asks loads of questions about different artifacts and sculptures, taking in all the spook that the chapel has to offer. he is constantly walking up to different little things that catch his eye and calling you over, just as a child would excitedly show their parents the sandcastle they’d made. he was especially interested in the veiled christ piece, one of the more popular attractions of the site.

at one point the two of you are alone in a vast, dim room together. the walls are covered in various works of age-old art, but all leone can focus on is you. he stands before you, delicate eyes fixed on your own. you can’t recall a time he’s looked as appreciative as he does now.

‘my love... i can’t thank you enough. this is just.. perfect.‘ he takes your hands in his own, holding them prudently.

‘aw, leone... i’m happy you liked this so much, i just knew you would.‘

he smiles and looks around at the hoards of art surrounding the two of you once more, before lightly taking hold of your jawline. he leans in and meets your lips, kissing you with a familiar and heated devotion. he pulls away after a few moments, and you can tell he didn’t want to end that embrace so quickly. even in the dim-lit room he appears quite flushed.

‘i love you.. and thanks, again. i really do mean it.’

[dise7se]

you can’t make a mistake (on these kind of ice skates)

by spideysforce

It begins like this: MJ and Ned show up to his and May’s apartment first thing in the morning, their incessant knocking on the front door with ushered whispers, “Peter!” followed by even more knocking. HIs heart is beating fast and he gets out of bed, whispering-shouting back at his friends to not wake Aunt May up.

Regrettably, they do wake Aunt May up at 7AM on her Saturday morning off after working 9 shifts in a row at the hospital. May still pulls Ned and MJ into the apartment, telling them she missed them, hugging them good morning and giving Peter the glare for not opening the door sooner. She may be allowing the squad to venture off on their own the winter break of their senior year, but she lays down the ground rules for their trip to the mountains outside of the city, streaked with frozen lakes they’ll venture out to skate in; She expects no blood, no blunt traumas, death, or ice all over the floor of the car. 

He felt like a little kid ten years ago, a couple of years living with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He had recently become accustomed to living with them, they began their own traditions. After celebrating Hanukkah and when Peter got out of school for the new year, they would drive out to the mountains to sit in scenic view parking lots, an early morning radio playing exclusive MET players in winter leagues content from their practices. May would set up the trunk, and they’d all squeeze in with the door propped open, huddling close and watching the trees sway. It was breathtaking; Ben usually stood too close to rocky cliffs to capture the perfect photo, propping him up on his shoulders to get the higher angle he couldn’t score himself. The same excited feeling from the night before, the excitement and him not being able to sleep, his stomach does leaps while he watches his friends tow their bags in. It was a meteorshower visible in the night sky, digging his fingers into fresh dirt in the spring, the first snowfall of the season.

    “May, are you sure you can’t come with?” Peter asks once more, slouching and pouting his lips. He needs to raise the dramatics, she’s the best ice skater he knows. 

“Sorry, baby. It’s my day off, and you three deserve your own fun little trip.” She fastens his puffy jacket on, zipping it up to the top, yet never snagging his chin. He groans once he catches MJ hiding a laugh behind her hand. 

“You two are next,” May smiles in a knowing way, “don’t you think I’m going to let my kids go outside in the freezing cold with their jackets unzipped.”

“Of course, Aunt May,” Ned replies with his manners by the Leeds family never failing, standing happily besides Peter and chewing on his morning bagel. MJ sips on her coffee, grabbing Peter’s blue and white snowflake-knitted hat with a pom pom on the top. 

“Please, no, MJ,” Peter complains, shaking his head to dodge the hat in her hand, May turning her gaze to Ned and huffing about kids, when Ned shrugs in agreement. “Seriously, you’re messing up my hair that I work so hard to naturally stay this luscious and wavy.”

“You know who you sound like?” 

May turns to Peter to give him a very pointed look with a raised eyebrow, and he knows exactly where this is going. “Just like Tony. Always worrying about the hair, the sunglasses, how muscular you look in the Spidey suit.”

“May,” Peter shrieks, his face turning scarlet red while the room erupts into laughter from his friends who are totally betraying him right now. “That was one time in front of the mirror! Don’t get me wrong, I am very muscular in the suit, but you can’t just--”

“Can you just finish putting your hat on and get out of here already, go take your film photos for your photography project,” May presses a kiss to his forehead, gasping and taking a step once she realizes she needs to stay on the tip of her toes to reach him. 

“Yes, May,” he says mildly, “ice skating, photos, and back home. No shenanigans.”

With that, she ushers the three of them to the door, reminding them no web fluid experiments in the middle of the woods, skating where they aren’t allowed, or no fighting unsolicited sea monsters, or any monsters at all  like last summer. She exhales, her shoulders slumping and she’s giving him the same look that Happy and Tony give him before their spontaneous lectures, notorious anecdotes included. She says more ‘love you’s, sending them on their way.

---

MJ, Peter, and Ned drive May’s 1989 Revolvo outside of the city, taking the open highway to the mountains about an hour out. Peter took the driver’s seat, Ned in the front, and MJ opting to sit in the back with all their skating equipment. The car is full of laughter, music, and chattering in their ears on the drive to the lake, in true Peter Parker ADHD style, MJ and Ned Facetiming Flash and Betty, asking them to meet them on their hike.

The first thing he notices that gives him butterflies is MJ rolling the window down the second they reach the George Washington bridge, letting her curly hair- that usually smells like coconut oil and shea butter- sweep through the wind. His stomach flutters, watching her through the rearview mirror with a wide grin splat across his face, a laughter probably bubbling in her chest like his and Ned’s are full of. 

As if his big, doey heart eyes aren’t big enough, he finds Uncle Ben’s old film camera he gifted to Peter secure around her neck, snapping photos across the moving bridge. Of the sky, of him, of Ned, the car besides them on the right that honks angrily at them. He hastily laughs, asking her to get back inside the car before her face freezes.

Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is he beaming so hard at his best friend beside him, pretending to reprimand his best friend in the back of the car?

Once they’re outside of the city, Ned passes a stick of gum to each of them the moment their ears pop from the change in pressure. They argued the entire way about their school advisors, not really knowing what to do next on their way to college. They all remind him of himself in their own way, and he’s starting to miss them already. MJ wants to study law and criminology, with a forensic biology minor. After Ned graduates he wants to study computer engineering, and Peter wishes he was so sure of himself like they were.

He doesn’t offer much.

It’s fine, because his friends have been helping him figure it out, hence them pushing him to apply to this photography scholarship and contest. Every time he dares to bring up a double major in STEM and photography, his advisors laugh in his face and shut him down. They make it nearly impossible to talk, but his friends are there for him and remind him he can go at his own pace, reminding him he has his alter-ego to worry about.

Peter pulls the car off into a dirt road, surprised he even knows how to drive as a Queens dweller. They follow a path, Ned gripping onto his door handle. “Oh, G-d, Peter. Be careful! Look, there’s a squirrel!”

“Ned,” he gulps, Michelle smirking at their cowardice from the backseat of the car.

“Come on, it’s just dirt,” she suggests, and quirks her brow from an idea. Once the car is silent besides the lowered music, she jumps out and yells in Ned’s ear to watch out.

He jumps, yelling, “that isn’t cool!” and throws something back at her while Peter finds a spot on the side of the mountain. He slams on the brakes to shut them up, their petulant arguing coming to an end once they see the scenic rest stop.

As promised, his friends let him push them around and guide them like cattle to get the perfect shots. He crouches across the parking lot away from them, hearing their hushed whispers and laughters about how ridiculous he looks. “It’s for the aesthetic, okay!”

He opts for the colored film, replacing the entire roll of 50 they used just on the drive here. He shuts the back of the film camera, reeling the film roll until it catches, and finds the perfect shot of his friends whispering and slowly becomes entranced by the actual scenic view. He captures the sky from a new perspective, blocking out all of his surroundings.

He shows his friends the sky, he shows them the car headlights shining on their hearts, and the sun shining on their faces. He captures the muddled sunshine through Michelle’s curls, a blush forming on her face from the camera being too close along with Peter holding it.

His heart skips a beat every time he photographs Michelle, finding a new beautiful thing about her to be lovestruck over.

He takes portraits of the both of his best friends, planning on printing all of these photos 100 times to hang them in his room, to give to them, and to place all over the photography critique and display wall. He sat on the cold gravel road and his friends had to dust him off. His photos look how he feels swinging off of buildings at night, finding one billboard sign, like outside of Matt’s apartment that illuminates the entire block in oversaturated neons. There weren’t iron bars and concrete filling the frame like his photos from the city, it was green trees with branches draping above them, brushing across their faces, a palette of turquoise, grays, and greens.

Peter brought color into the achromatic, washed out world.

There was a photograph he knew he was going to print to become poster-sized, the subject blown up huge because he wanted to reach out into the photo itself, not yet developed. He imagines his hands in the chemical infested waters, bleach and fixer pouring down his hands. 

Ned and MJ both hang their abdomens off of the large metal railing, rockfall barriers they wrap around, the mountains blurred horizontally in the back. MJ’s hair carefully drapes over the edge of the railing, blowing in the wind. Ned stares past him, suspended in air right behind Michelle. The bars are set impossibly straight, but MJ and Ned’s body destroy the thirds in a beautiful, alluring way. Their arms dared to swing over the edge of the mountainside, throwing them into the flesh if the barred metal wasn’t holding them. Too close to the edge, too close to the sky.

“I got it,” he pants, unbelievably bashed at the one click of the shutter. The focal point is always set to 50mm and an aperture of 1.8. 

It was like chemistry, physics, it was Murphy’s Law; Whatever can happen in his film roll, will happen. 

He lowers the camera down from his face, MJ and Ned already out of there poses, he finds them smiling at him.

---

As promised in an unsaid way, MJ, Ned, and Peter cling onto each other to get the hang of skating. They each hurt themselves at least once quickly leaning over to lace their own skates leaning out of the car, parking nearby the lake and hiking across the icy-snow to get to the icy lake. The area is empty, and the mountains hover above them through the trees, sending a chill their way.

Not before long after testing the ice themselves and deeming it safe by the signs, they’re gliding along the icy lake and pulling each other down in each desperate tug to stay upright.

Ned points out, “I thought you were good at ice-skating! You’re Spider-Man!”

“Exactly!” he shrieks back, his left leg gliding in front of him causing him to flail his arms to find balance. “I web-swing! I don’t ice skate for a reason.”

Peter clears his throat, gliding over to MJ who watches Ned with a relaxed smile while he skates around the perimeter. Out of the three of them, he picks skating up the quickest, naturally fleeting over the ice with precision. “It’s not nice to hover, you know.”

He whips his head to the side to look at her, his ADHD brain reminding him it’s a joke and she’s messing with him before he falls into his own spiral of self-doubt. He smiles at her, her beige puffy coat covering her chin and she smiles into the enclosed space, looking up at him. Her hands are in her pocket, and he reaches playfully to warm his own hands up in the jacket.

“Uh, so--” he clears his throat, “it’s so cold out, right? I mean, the temperature is around freezing and we spent an hour in the mountains--”

“Yep, cold.”

“I had a lot of fun, like, I know we’re best friends and all and I’d do anything for you guys, but what you both did-- I got the perfect shot. I really did it,” he talks lamely, wondering how he still stumbles over his words around his crush he kissed in Europe. “You know, I’m probably just.. I think I’ll go take more pictures? I’ve never felt so alive and nostalgic taking pictures, and like Uncle Ben used to tell me-- Okay, I can’t take you looking at me like this.”

Amused, MJ smiles with his face too close to hers while they share body heat, hitching her shoulders. “You know I can hear your inner monologue, right?”

“It’s just-- you know, we’re hanging out. It’s not totally lame with me ruining it, we can forget this happened..”

She leans forward, leaning her forehead to his. “Do we have a reason not to?”

Right, yeah. They can do this, he thinks.

The feelings between them are confusing, and even though they’ve kissed, that was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing, right? He did save her life and their friends, they were scared. And holding hands? That’s what all friends do-- 

His brain almost can’t process this all at once, and he thinks his cheeks can’t redden even more despite the cold and he’s sure she can see the tip of his ears burning pink-- 

He scrambles, nearly reeling back in the ice when she plants a kiss on his cheek. Her grin is huge, and she gently takes his hands out of her pockets and skates away, his heart rate struggles and he thinks this is how he’ll faint. From tachycardia. 

Ned’s voice fills overhead, and he grabs his camera from the side of the frozen lake to join them again. Persistent chills run down his spine, the misty freeze coming from the ground. They let Peter stand in the middle, lacing their hands together to skate in a chain, disastrously. It was at this moment the teenagers truly regretted not taking skating in Central Park seriously until last year, their skills unabashedly catastrophic, giving it up after they realized they can celebrate winter break inside, baking for everyone in the apartment building. 

The three of them realized Peter has his web-shooters equipped to their wrists when Ned clung onto him, nearly slipping and he tugged him up, and in their laughter released a web that shot into the snow across the lake. They stoof, starstruck, and could anyone blame them and their impulsivity? And so, what had started as simple skating to shoot film, documenting their lives beyond a surface-level way.

Ned retreats back to the sidelines, sitting a few feet away in the car on the side after skating for nearly an hour. The three of them pant in exhaustion, massaging their own limbs and stretching. Michelle attempted a jump on the ice while he went to go check on Ned, screeching and landing in an almost-split. 

He decided to keep quiet about the slight buzz that begins forming at the back of his head, crediting it to nearly slipping every five seconds on the ice. 

“Come take a break with me, I’m about to eat one of our many junk-food snacks until we can get lunch,” Ned offers after, he thinks he noticed the concern on his face from the haywire senses and doesn’t want to alert Michelle. He must suspect the way he starts shivering, too, so he sits in the passenger seat that faces the lake, besides Ned.

Ned looks at Peter, and he simply smiles back because he doesn’t want to worry his best friend. He chucks off his gloves, cleaning the camera from where it sat in ice and says he’ll be right back to take pictures in the smaller icy lake away from them.

He drags himself along the snow, taking big steps to account for the heavy skates on his feet towards the tiny icy lake besides them. He sees Ned and MJ gesture to each other, Michelle nodding her head towards him in concern, who makes eye contact with him and crosses her arms and makes a shivering motion in question. He shakes his head, sending a thumbs-up that he’s okay.

He’s reached the other side of the lake, taking pictures of Michelle skating from another angle in a snow covered patch. He shivers, the incessant cold gripping him. He feels it - a hitch, but it isn’t a shiver from the cold. He’s immediately retreating back when he hears a crunch, a kr, gripping his camera a bit tighter before throwing it to the side and he turns frantically, trying to locate the alert from his legs--

Closing his eyes, he listens to the noise of small ice particles separating, deciding where the safest spot to jump to is, letting his sense direct him somewhere else. He knew he was away from the mini lake, the frozen pond for this reason. It’s technically off the lake, but there must be a small terrain of water and he stumbles around the ice.

His skates are heavy on his aching feet, the snow seeping in from the sides that’s a few inches high, his heart racing in pure adrenaline. “MJ. Get off the ice now. Get off.”

“Peter, what--”

The glaze, icy surfaces are cracking beneath him, atoms shaking. His senses won’t stop screaming at him frantically, not guiding him except for up, and it might be too late to send his web-shooters above him, the shooters in the car with his gloves. He doesn’t have enough time to warn them to grab his web shooters for him before he’s crashing into the ground, through ice and water.

He suspends in the water, the cold engulfing his entire body, it’s unlike any cold he’s felt before, even after being trapped in snow after a fight with Mysterio. It’s unthinkable, striking his entire body. He blindly panics, pitch black in his vision and his throat burns raw as he screams. 

Get up, get up, get up-- swim, swim-- 

His body is being carved out by millions of pinpricks, the cold seeping into his body and chilling his bones and the shock gouges his brain. The skates cause him to be less buoyant, his heavy legs scraping ice and getting stuck with each desperate kick and flutter to get to the surface.

He watches the bubbles rise up in the water from his mouth, screaming he can’t hear himself underwater. He didn’t have the chance to suck in a breath, his exhalation running out and twisting and tearing at his lungs. Each cell screams breathe--

He can’t hear anymore. 

Loud ringing replaces his senses, he reaches blindly upwards and his heart rattles in his chest. The freezing temperature below the ice seizes his body. He jackknifes upwards, realizing his movement is clumsy and unreflexive.

His left skate becomes stuck in a chunk of ice, and he’s back in Europe for a moment. Heat blindly covers his face, the sensation all lost. Behind his closed eyes, a hot summer heat casts over him, but he’s being burned from Mysterio sending fire his way. He’s on Titan again, cells ripping to shreds again.

He lets himself succumb to the drowsiness, reaching up once last time to feel around as the opening of the ice flees. Even if he did make it out, his lungs feel too full in his chest, he’d need to get rid of all the liquid from his lungs fast, hoping he doesn’t asphyxiate.

He thinks he sees shadows dancing above him in the water, he’s hopeful his friends would dare reach inside for him, but it wouldn’t be fair for him. He’s drifting, he slowly diminishes away and he’s so far away from them, a dizzying sunlight blinding him and allowing him to close his eyes once more. His brain shuts off, and his senses stop screaming and allow him to let go - the panic leaves him.

He thinks he’s dreaming when he feels a hand in his, another grabbing his wrist. This can’t be right, he’s about to fall asleep into the world of unconsciousness. He’s too weak to fight the tug upwards, seeing stars all in front of him. A black canvas streaked with colors, twinkling in the night sky. He thinks he hits the air again, but he can’t take a breath in so it must not be real. He feels his body being tossed down onto the ground like a ragdoll, dragging through the snow that feels hot, lava on his skin. Is he eulogizing himself, a cynical last vision that he truly did live?

His vision comes back, he thinks, unable to cough and his legs feel ready to burst inside his body. He’s turned to his side, snowflakes falling from the sky. He thinks he can see very single snowflake in front of him, dancing for him, he thinks behind the ringing he can hear shouting, wake up! 

He wants to listen to each voice, millions of seconds passing between each frantic shout. He.. he must be allowed to close his eyes.. He wants to be taken back to the lake after succumbing to rest. He falls, stars accompanying him.

---

MJ’s boots begin to slip on the edge of the ice, bits of icicles falling into the water where Peter thrashes. “Shit, shit, shit,” she cries out, perching herself safely to grab onto his hand in the water with Ned searching frantically for his web-shooters and anything else they can use to pull Peter out of the water with.

After a minute, she’s dragging him out of the water with newfound strength, watching his blue body retreat from the water and she screams out, sobbing now. She won’t give up. She won’t give up on him, Aunt May, or on them.

“Hang off, babe, I’ve got you,” she says, looking down at him as he desperately tries to gasp for air. She begins chest compressions, unable to think. She never thought she’d be fast on the spot for an emergency, but she thinks she screams at Ned to call 911, forgetting he’s still on the line with them.

Once she gets a pulse, she and Ned carry Peter to the car. They frantically cover his body in every coat and blanket they find, thanking G-d May has spares in the trunk in case of an emergency. She shrugs her coat off, leaving her sweater on. She springs herself into the backseat, Ned doing the same in the front with the heat already blasting. She’s frantically explaining to whoever is on the other end of the phone, voice breaking as she begs for help. “He’s- he’s breathing on his own now, but he’s blinking at us. What do I do--”

A few minutes pass, she’s not sure how she hasn’t passed out yet. May’s murmuring in her ear through the phone, that Tony is talking to Ned while he drives and that he’s going to talk to her next. She’s pretty sure she agrees, but she’s curled up around Peter, his body on her lap. She gives him warmth, listening to Tony spew medical terminology at her and how to treat hypothermia. 

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You can’t die on us,” she whispers into the air, the car engine roaring.

--

Once Peter returns, he wonders if he’s dead when he’s conscious again. His brain registers warmth and lumps beneath him. He blearily opens his eyes, the action too much, his head is in someone’s lap. They run their hands gently through his cold hair. He feels hands around his socked-feet, and he furrows his brows in confusion. He begins to shift a little, feeling a gentle pressure on his arm and leg. There’s warmth all around his body, which is heavy but safe, it's as safe as May’s arms, Ben’s arms during a thunderstorm that shook the building, Tony’s arms after Titan. He closes his eyes, moaning and he’s ready to drift--

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May sighs above him.

His first thought is to gasp for air, coughing and feeling his lungs clattering in his chest, his sternum erupting in pain. It feels like a hacksaw to his sternum when he breathes. 

He whimpers quietly, hearing soft shushing above him. It’s a different sound from the constant headache of the ringing, but he hears the familiar whirr of the refrigerator and picks up four familiar heartbeats. His heart feels surmounted by grief, over the sea, left far away.

He blinks his eyes open past tears, recognizing the bookcase in front of him in the living room of the apartment, with a warm body at his feet on the couch. He’s in May’s lap, “Peter, hey,” May says softly, grounding him by placing a hand on his back. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

She places her chin to his hair, sighing, and he sags into her arms. He thinks his feet are in Tony’s lap, his foot catching his side.

“Oh, kiddo,” Tony soothes, squeezing his foot gently. 

“MJ? Ned?” He rasps out, no voice there and he turns frantically.

“Don’t worry, baby,” May says softly, he almost didn’t catch it. “MJ’s asleep in the chair besides Tony, Ned’s asleep in the other. We’re all crashing from adrenaline.

His head pounds at his movements, his arms feel sluggish, but he pushes himself off of May to find his friends, safe. “Oh-- fuck. Thank, G-d.”

“Language,” May admonishes kindly, settling him further into the couch comfortably by shifting pillows. “How are you feeling?”

Noticing hers and Tony’s eyes on him, searching, both their phones to the side of them and the window allowing pink and purple streaks inside, painting the furniture and the gold illustrating each facial feature of theirs. His friends sleep in the shadows, covered in soft blankets.He switches gazes between them. Tony moves him gently, wrapping his blankets tightly around him.

He’s guessing May removed some of his soaking clothes, exchanging his clothes and he notices the fresh white cotton t-shirt on his body, smelling of fresh fabric softener. 

“Kid, you’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days. Or, better yet, you’re going to burst my arteries yourself.” He fixed Peter with a pointed look, sighing. “I mean, you’re almost in college. I shouldn’t still be doing this.”

Everything he says comes off lightheartedly, but every word is laced with concern. He desperately wants to get argue back, but he knows today is his fault. He ignored his senses, and he doesn’t have a good enough excuse. Would he have been able to save his friends if it happened to them?

Like Tony can sense exactly what he’s thinking, he continues to assure him. “You’re hypothermic. You were blue, Pete, but your dislocated knee mixed in isn’t the worst you’ve done..”

He sighs, looking away from Tony and opting to listen to the kettle in the kitchen, May shifting his head off of her lap and into the couch cushion to it off and stares at Tony’s phone on the table.

“It was stupid, I know. I’m so sorry, everyone,” he finally says, none of the words being announced like he wants, his throat tender and unhealed, lifting his head off the pillow and moans in pain. He’s able to sit up, leaning heavily against a pillow with his elbow propping him up. He ignores the piercing pain in his ribs. ”I checked the water. I-- I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

Tony sounded as frantic as he did back when he first yelled at him after the nearly-disastrous ferry incident. “That’s part of the problem. You are thinking, kid. You’d never do this willfully. You always jump the gun, which is something also great about you.. It can also be a great flaw.”

“Did they get hurt?” he whispers, turning back to the two teens on the smaller one-person couches.

“Nobody except for you, kiddo,” May reassures him, walking back in with a steaming mug in her hands. He takes this moment to redirect his gaze to his arm when he grabs it, his stiff elbow poked with a needle. “IV, baby. Needed to warm you up with warm saline.”

She sighs, sitting on the glass coffee table in front of him and not bothering to move the newspaper. “We’re worried, Peter. I can’t protect you like I need to, want to.” 

He collapses back down into the pillow, oblivious to May and Tony’s secret communication with each other. May, nodding for Tony to sit beside her and in front of Peter. It probably isn’t comfortable for him, but he looks over to May for answers. She furrows her brows, her mouth set in a line.

He almost smiles, seeing the two of them in front of him again when he’s not dying. The relief quickly turns to worry when he remembers what happened, guilt refusing to subside. He’s huddled in the couch, like a cold, rejected dog, signs of frostbite all over him. It’s his own fault - he didn’t listen to his sense. The dark, insidious fear of death looms over his head once more, he really scared his friends today. And himself.

Murphy’s Law comes back to his head, an anxiety swirling in his stomach. It’s an ugly, black hurricane feeling, especially seeing the dejection and defeat written on both their faces. 

“I--” he can’t manage, but the two of them see hesitation flicker across his face, voice too quiet and broken. “I’m just- I messed up. T’ny ta-taught me so much, I didn’t listen--” he cuts himself off, his voice unrecognizable, eyes widening in surprise, a realization.

“It was all my f’ult. I sc’red them, badly.” Pressing himself deeper into the corner of the pillow, tears overflow his eyes, hot streaks across his face he doesn’t expect. A shiver racks through him, not from the cold.

Tony leans over closer to him, his breath warm even through the blankets and on his exposed arm, his own hand hovering above him in hesitation, the inhibition set across his face. His mentor takes a deep breath in, gently grabbing the back of the couch and placing a kiss to the top of his head. He must’ve really fucked up today, he thinks.

He watches the fear streak across Tony’s eyes, too familiar to Titan. Peter feels deeply rooted in the couch, frozen solid from his core. He doesn’t know what the end of the story is, fear ebbing away, and he really looks at Peter face on. “I’m sorry.”

Peter feels frustrated again, just like the morning when half the world that died was brought back, feeling alone. 

He lets his tears take over him, letting May hold him on the couch, feeling too weak to do anything else. She ends up pulling Peter into her lap again, rubbing circles on her shoulder and letting her own tears escape from her eyes, some falling onto his white t-shirt. He trembles under her, Tony reaching over to squeeze his hand, the arm with an IV. He soothes small circles with his thumb, drawing patterns on his skin and turns to May with owlishly wide eyes.

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Tony whispers. “We’ve got you. May’s got you. Your friends are right here. You’re right here.”

It takes some time, but eventually Peter falls asleep like that, May and Tony’s vice-like grip never once loosening on him.

[bisexualsforprompto]

Miraculous: Reborn Chapter Three

Ao3

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Marinette had been miraculously brought back to life six years earlier. Truth be told, she didn’t remember much of her resurrection. When she was brought back she didn’t have any scars, not even the one she cherished so dearly, the first injury her soulmate gave her. It seemed odd or silly to celebrate such a thing, but she did, and now she never could again… Although she didn’t remember much of her resurrection she did remember her mother holding her and crying but that was about it.

Everyday for six years she was protected like some giant secret. In a sense, she was. She wasn’t allowed to go outside, attend school (she was homeschooled by Sabine), or talk to anyone. It was more boring than being dead, Marinette remarked one day when she had breakfast with her parents.

They promptly explained to her that they were only trying to keep her safe. What would the outside world think if the dead Dupain-Cheng child mysteriously showed up out of the blue? People had watched her die. It would be a witch hunt if they found out she was alive, her parents feared she’d be experimented on, but for some reason that made Marinette feel unsettled.

Not because she was afraid of being experimented on, but because it seemed like her parents weren’t being completely truthful. Marinette grew wary of them and that night marked the first day she snuck out.

Her parents were working in the bakery, and Marinette knew they wouldn’t be up to check on her for at least two hours. She put on sunglasses and a hat and made her great escape.

The world was so much more beautiful than she had remembered, but she had been cooped up in her room for three years before she even dared to venture outside. The only thing Marinette wasn’t impressed with when she left her house were the Parisians. There was even a man who was about to be run over by a car and no one did a single thing.

No one but Marinette, she sprung into action and pushed him out of the way. She ran back home as fast as she could after she made sure he was okay, that act would bring attention to her and her parents could not know under any circumstances that she decided to sneak out.

Oddly enough after her dinner that same night there was a black box with scripture she couldn’t recognize in her room…

Ladybug was her only freedom, that was why she got along so well with Chat Noir. They had both lost their freedoms in different ways, Marinette of course didn’t tell him the whole story, only that her parents were overprotective and she was homeschooled. She and Chat were best friends, inseparable. It reminded her of her relationship with Nino.

Nino...It broke her heart so much when she found out he was akumatized. He was one of Hawk Moth’s first victims and it was all her fault. Nino was akumatized into a villain who could raise the dead, after an insensitive classmate inadvertently brought up Marinette. Luckily for the red clad heroine, she was able to purify the akuma before Nino got to her grave (the Dupain-Chengs made one for show after Marinette was brought back to life). Part of her always wondered what would’ve happened if he got to her grave and realized she wasn’t buried there.

Although Marinette wanted nothing but to laugh with her best friend again she knew she couldn’t reveal herself to Nino, for her and her parents safety, but more selfishly, because she thought that he could never accept her, she’d basically lied to him for the years she’d been alive without telling him.

She made it a point to check on him as Ladybug every so often.

Her freedom was stripped of her though, when she and Chat Noir defeated Hawk Moth. She almost cried, she should have been happy Hawk Moth no longer wielded his miraculous, but it just made her empty inside. When Hawk Moth’s identity was revealed Chat Noir revealed his identity as well so he couldn’t be seen as an accomplice to his father. Marinette was really the only one who stayed out of the spotlight, she didn’t tell a soul, not even Adrien. After all, she was legally dead, what would Paris think if their hero’s life was a lie?

Although it had already been an excruciating month since Master Fu took the Ladybug miraculous away from her, Marinette couldn’t help but reach for her earrings ever so often. Sometimes she’d even open her bag to talk to Tikki, only to find she wasn’t there.

The month without her freedom had been so hard to bear that Marinette snuck out in her disguise once more. Only, there was a strong wind that day and Nadja Chamack was passing by when Marinette’s hat blew off her.

Careless, she remembered scolding herself when she got home. She hoped Nadja wouldn’t recognize her, after all she still had sunglasses on, but when her parents came up to her room in a furious rage she realized that she wasn’t so lucky.

Sabine yelled at her and Tom lectured her about going out. It was all a blurry haze of swirling emotions, she could barely recall what her parents yelled at her. She remembered the moment that broke her heart though.

She could still hear Sabine’s words in her ear, “Pack up, you’re going to live with your uncle in Gotham. It’s no longer safe for you here.”

Marinette understood, she really did. She didn’t harbor any resentment against her family either, they were just trying to help. She knew her parents loved her, they even acknowledged they were sending her to the crime capital of the world, so they sent had her uncle enroll her in a private school far away from Gotham. Her parents told her that it would take a while to get to school each day, but it was all in her best interest.

She believed them.

What a mistake that was.

Marinette was excited for her first day at West-Reeves. She could live as Mari Dupain without anyone remembering the girl who was a mere ghost. She hadn’t been to school with other people for awhile but she surely wasn’t expecting such a big fanfare.

The moment she arrived in the office she was whisked away by a cheery half-Guyanese girl with a green jacket and LGBT+ patch. Marinette surveyed her surroundings with suspicion, something she’d gotten used to as Ladybug. She hadn’t had human interaction outside of being the heroine for six years, the only way she knew how to act was how she acted as Ladybug. She even instinctively touched her earrings only to find her ears bare. She almost sighed, but she didn’t have time for her tour guide was dragging her to her homeroom.

At that moment Marinette realized she hadn’t really been paying attention. She was focused so much on the small details, or what would’ve been useful for her as a hero (emergency exits, possible defensive weapons) that she had missed pretty much all of what her tour guide said.

She scolded herself and tried to pay more attention. There wasn’t much to pay attention too however, before Marinette knew it, she was outside a room which her tour guide started to open slowly as she said her goodbyes.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Marinette said as she shook the girl’s hand for the last time. “No prob!” Said her guide shooting finger guns at Marinette as she scurried off to class.

Marinette chuckled to herself lightly before gulping and entering the room. She hadn’t been to school in a while, sure, but she wasn’t expecting the reaction she was given.

Everyone’s eyes were on her as soon as she set foot in the classroom. She stepped in the front of the room, choking back her nervousness. She was greeted with a bombardment of two blonde girls who looked like...Chloé.

Marinette wrinkled her nose at the thought, one of her last memories was Chloé telling her off, saying she wasn’t good enough. ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ Marinette rolled her eyes as she brushed past them.

The two blondes gaped at her as she rudely shied away from them. Marinette walked to the back of the classroom, friendly waves thrown at her (besides the two girls she shook off) as she tried to find an empty seat. She felt confident that if more than two people could fit at a desk someone would’ve invited her over, or maybe they already knew how unnatural she was…

Was it possible the waves and smiles were out of pity? Marinette entertained the thought before pushing it away and moving to the very back of the class.

“Oh my god, she’s gonna sit with the Ice Prince!” Marinette heard a juvenile voice snicker. “Serves her right.” Whispered one of the blondes under her breath in a very Chloé like fashion.

“You think he’ll yell at her?” Whispered a voice too low for Marinette to hear. “Nah I bet he’ll start throwin’ punches!” Exclaimed a burly and immature jock.

Marinette didn't understand who the so-called ‘Ice Prince’ was or why they were being so mean about him. She decided immediately that she didn’t like any of her fellow classmates.

Marinette slid wordlessly into the only empty chair, towards the back of the room. An alluring boy with tan skin, green eyes and black hair that complimented the navy blue uniform the school had was sitting with perfect posture while reading a book. Marinette was actually relieved he didn’t talk to her, she was able to enjoy some much needed quiet time. She never had this much attention when she came back to life, although the only time she really got out of the house was as Ladybug.

Marinette and the boy sat in silence for a while until the teacher hurried into the room. The woman stood in front of the class and clapped her hands, “Okay class! We will get started in just a few minutes, but as you might have noticed, we have a new student!” Marinette felt all eyes flicker to her. “Could you introduce yourself sweetheart?” Asked the teacher kindly.

“Sure,” Marinette said as she stood up, hand rubbing the back of her neck, “I’m Mari Dupain. I come from France, specifically Paris.” She had guessed that the teacher would ask her to introduce herself, Tom and Sabine had been drilling her over and over again so she didn’t slip up and reveal her real identity.

“It’s a pleasure to have you Mari! Why don’t you come up and get your copy of Animal Farm. Everyone had to read it yesterday, and we will discuss it, but it’s okay that you haven’t read it yet.” The teacher said sweetly motioning towards a book at the front of the class.

“A-actually I have read it.” The boy next to her raised an eyebrow as she continued, “When I was homeschooled my maman- I mean mother made me read it in English.” The teacher gave her a blinding smile which made the class roll their eyes, another try-hard. Marinette walked down to the front of the class to grab her copy anyway and walked back to the boy in the back who had set down his book.

“Alright! Let’s dive right in then!” The teacher clapped her hands as she sat on the desk. “What do you guys think Animal Farm is an allegory for?”

It was so quiet Marinette could hear a pin drop, she wanted to raise her hand but was nervous to. When nobody did the teacher remarked, “Ok, raise your hand if you read the book.”

Marinette and the boy beside her were the only two who raised their hands. The teacher sighed and rubbed her temples, “One more than last time.” She mumbled. Sitting up straighter she asked, “So Damian, Marinette, can one of you tell me what Animal Farm is an allegory for?”

“It’s-“ Marinette began.

“Russia under the reign of Stalin and communism.” The boy- Damian interrupted. Marinette gaped, she was about to say something why did he start?

“Well technically not communism.” Marinette muttered under her breath. Damian raised an eyebrow, “How would you define it?” He asked with a slight bite underneath it.

“Damian-“ the teacher started.

“Totalitarianism.” Marinette gulped, “Because communism was they wanted to achieve but it's impossible because of human greed.” The class almost hid under their desks, prepared for the next war. They motioned to Marinette to stop but she hadn’t seen it.

“Hmmm. Interesting point Dupain.” Damian said, Marinette beamed at him sweetly, she enjoyed having a conversation with someone else interested in academics.

She hadn’t had that in so long.

She hadn’t had human connection in so long.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Oh Partner, My Partner || Chloe Frazer x Elena Fisher

[literally the only gif i could find with the two of them together omfg — yall i wish these two had more scenes together]

This took so LONG because I had no idea how to write these two best gals without them just trauma bonding over how much of a shit Nathan is lmaooooo I might have to do a part 2 idkkk man 👀👀

Request: Hello! I just saw your post about fanfic requests. Can you write something for chloe x elena (as a ship) from uncharted? Please. Thank you!

Words: 1.7k 

Warnings: None ! Just a bitta flirting 

“Step on it! We got Company!”

Everything was a complete blur, happening in rapid succession that it was nearly impossible to process. Elena Fisher had partaken in her fair share of shoot outs, some incredibly similar to the current situation she was in, the difference now was merely semantics.

She barrelled down the narrow walkway, ancient ruins encompassing the way out in a claustrophobic manner. If the circumstances didn’t call for panic and nimble feet, she’d take a moment to admire yet another long lost civilisation in her wake.

Gunshots echoed through as the army-for-hire attempted to hit the two figures, the two barely managing to exit the choke point and out into the open.

Elena took a moment to catch her breath, lamenting on the fact she could never simply get a story nowadays without being shot at. Her eyes trailed over to her partner — who was equally out of breath, however urged her to press onward.

“C’mon, take one of their trucks, we’ll be lucky if we hit the nearest town before they tail us.” Chloe Frazer motioned for her companion to follow, as unlikely as the pairing had been, the two women found each other’s company much more bearable than initially expected.

Of course, it wasn’t without needing something the other had. Elena had been stumped just days prior at the prospect of losing a big story after her source had been unceremoniously blown up — quite literally. It just so happened that the bar she weighed out her options had also been the same bar the familiar Australian woman had been on the lookout for her next big break.

The two hijacked one of the unmanned vehicles, tearing up some of the lush terrain as they made their quick escape. Both looking back with wide smiles at the near death experience turn successful lift and having enough proof to run a highly intriguing article.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Elena laughed out loud, her heart still thundering in her chest while the adrenaline surged through her. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat as she beamed at her companion, who was rather proud of the work they completed today.

Chloe weaved the truck in and out of major obstacles, having some indication where they needed to go in order to get to town, “we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

The blonde was taken aback by the compliment, a light blush painting her cheeks as she flustered to find an answer. In the short few years she’d known Chloe, it was clear that the Australian was hard to impress, rarely allowing anyone in too close. To hear her point it out was an honour.

“Y-yeah… I think we did great.” Elena beamed, her eyes lingering over her partner a little too long.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Chloe raised her brow, her eyes trailing back and forth from watching the road to her passenger.

It was a miracle they managed to both make it out alive and managed to get enough evidence for the journalist, unlike other times which resulted into her having to sacrifice her story just to make it out alive.

This time was different, and both of them were aware of that major difference; No Nathan Drake. As much as they equally admired and appreciated his heroic efforts, they couldn’t deny the fact he was quite literally the worst treasure hunter. Somehow, someway always finding the ability to blow up his latest find in some spectacular feat.

Without him in the picture, it was unexpectedly easy to pull off the job.

In the several days finding the next lead, following the trail of some illicit blackmarket group, Elena saw a side to Chloe she was quite happy to see. That sentiment also applied for the Australian, no longer believing the outspoken journalist was as bothersome in her regard.

The two had driven for the most part of two hours, ditching the truck somewhere ambiguous while they trekked the rest of the way into town. The dark haired woman praying that their plane ride out of the secluded outback town was still available, wanting to get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible.

With the harsh summer sun beating down on them, the trek felt much longer than it actually was, the American completely out of her comfort zone as she watched in envy at her companion who was seemingly unbothered by the heat. Elena fanned her face with one hand and held up the other to alleviate the glare from the sun, cursing herself for not thinking to bring sunglasses — of all things.

Chloe looked back in amusement, finding it funny that her partner was sweltering in the blistering heat, “bit hot, love?” The facetious tone not at all deterring the glare she got in response, merely laughing more as she wipes away the sweat beading on her neck.

She pointed lazily ahead, “town’s not too far away — won’t melt on me, will you?”

Elena squinted at her, only because she was so conveniently placed right by the sun, “y’know what, I just might.” She panted, taking a short breather.

The local stifled a laugh, “c’mon hot stuff, that article of yours won’t write itself,” she strode ahead, not particularly overthinking her comment coupled as she could just spot the town ahead.

“Here I was thinkin’ I’d catch a break from the shameless flirting… must be a common trait among thieves.” Elena was smug, catching up with her strides as she walked in sync with Chloe. The statement was purely a soft jab at the way people in this specific profession tend to talk to one another.

“Oh — was I not being clear enough?” Chloe retorted, an equally as complacent smirk on her face, even more so upon noticing the flustered look on the blonde's face, “I’ll be more obvious next time, love.”

It was hard to determine whether or not she was being sarcastic, her accent lent little to the imagination with the monotonous drawl, but her sultry tone of voice often always contradicted the accent. As someone who knew her relatively well, how she spoke to other people and carried herself; Elena was still confused.

Maybe the flirty comments were always so obvious when she was directing them elsewhere, then again, Elena was sure that it was simply a shared trait among the many within this business.

Truth be told, the only other person who had attempted to charm her was Nathan, and his measly endeavors were so blatantly obvious it was borderline cringeworthy. She could barely count Harry Flynn as an eligible contender considering he tried to blow the lot of them up.

She wasn’t sure why she was so stuck in her thoughts about it, she was an adult after all and didn’t need to overthink every single remark made her way. Yet here she was, the familiar feeling bubbling up inside her all the while her partner walked in a proud strut.

“I’m sorry — are you joking? I - I really can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg.” Elena eventually spoke out, deciding that the adult approach was the best way to feed into Chloe’s zero bullshit, blunt attitude. She was well aware now wasn’t the time to be having a conversation like this, and typically she’d be happy to let the comments fly by with having a witty retort. This time felt more urgent, like she needed to know before proceeding further.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chloe winked, jogging up ahead as they entered into the small isolated town. Elena laughed to herself, finding a sense of relief fill her from that sufficient answer. If she was being completely honest, she hadn’t met anyone quite like Chloe before but she had an alluring aura, even when she was being unlikeable; one couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Elena was no exception.

Nevermind that the pair of them looked like they actively fought some of the native wildlife, the two of them disregarding odd looks thrown their way as they casually strolled down the main street.  

The local ushered her companion into a dingy old pub that definitely looked like it wasn’t up to code — if that even existed this far in isolation. The town itself was home to one grocery store, two pubs, an abysmal excuse for a doctors office and one lousy looking police station that sat surrounded by approximately twenty-six houses.

Inside the pub was not much different than outside; muggy with a thick musk scent that mixed with the aroma of sweat from the patrons. Elena must have pulled a face subconsciously, earning a chuckle from her partner as she guided her through the building, “mining towns aren’t all they chalk up to be, aye? Poor bastards leave their families for months at a time to live in luxury at a shit hole like this.”

“Yeah — I guess you could say that…” Elena nervously laughed, not a big fan of the way the workers were eyeing them suspiciously. She wasn’t quite sure if they were looking at them because they were quite clearly outsiders, or for some other reason.

“Stop your worryin’, love — you got me to protect you.” Chloe flashed her a smile, opening the backdoor to the sweet sight of their getaway plane. The makeshift airport was barely manned, only passing the odd pilot or two on their way to greet their pilot.

Elena looked around cautiously, knowing that typically this was the part of the job where they get ambushed; then again, they had pulled this job off without the antagonising presence of Nathan Drake, so the likelihood of something like that happening was incredibly low. It wasn’t his fault he had an undeniable knack for pissing off the ‘bad guys’ effortlessly.

Seeing that she wasn’t in the conversation, Chloe reached over to her and softly grabbed Elena’s hand, “Tommo’s ‘bout ready to leave, you still with us?”

The blonde snapped out of her preemptive panic, giving her partners hand a squeeze as she nods, “only if you’ll have me.”

“I think I’ll keep you around a bit longer.”

[collective-laugh]

Actors AU - Main 6

I actually got permission for this one guys

@thearcanaderes

Actors AU: Main 6 The Main 6 are discovered by the press to be dating their co-star, and one season route acting love interest.

Asra

You and Asra actually knew one another prior to your work on “The Arcana”, considering you played his roommate’s love interest on that one sitcom for like a million seasons

You clicked then, and you especially click now

You’re almost sad that you only get to play his love interest in one season route

He’s honestly such a snooty dooty, and you and Vulgora don’t put up with that one bit

He likes to talk about how he has to put up with you, but it’s not hard, honestly

Especially once the two of you decide to move things to the next level, and to be a little more official

The press finds out about the two of you because tabloid photographers

You’re in sweatpants, and he’s in giant sunglasses and a shirt three sizes too big, and both of you are in the standard sunglasses-baseball cap ensemble to help hide your faces

It doesn’t work

The very next day, you find clickbait about the two of you

It’s honestly really funny to you - you knew the press would find out about the two of you anyway - but the title of the article is “Big Time Stars Dress Like Small Time Has-Beens - Is the End of Asra Alnazar’s Career In Sight?”

“Is it Asra? Is it over?” Your teasing is insufferable, but he will admit to cracking a smile when you read the article in a mocking retelling

Nadia

Nadia is probably your biggest fan

You were the lead in her absolute favorite early 2010s rom-com, and when the two of you first meet, she’s head over heels immediately

She can hardly believe that she gets to be your love interest next route! 

And then you’re like...super nice to her? And the two of you have great chemistry, even with your limited interactions in Asra’s route?

Side note: She totally cries during your show-stopping performance during Asra’s reverse route

The two of you dip your toes into a relationship in the early production of her route, and she’s just like

And as it gets more serious, it’s more difficult to keep up with keeping it between the two of you

Like, she’ll be heading out to a magazine shoot and you just show up with her?

Okay, she’ll admit that the two of you haven’t exactly done much to hide your relationship, but it’s still supposed to be between the two of you, right?

The press find out when the two of you go to the Met Gala and are absolutely inseperable

Honestly, you picked the best time to drop the relationship bombshell, because the press eat that shit up

Julian

He knows you’re a bigger name than he is, but he’s like...shook that you’re so nice and down to earth - to him, at least, from what he sees

He’s flirting with you shamelessly and he falls in pretty quickly

You’re always offering to go over your lines together, under the ruse that you’re having troubles with a specific scene, which he sniffs bullshit the moment you say so

But he agrees, and during one of these many, many, line-crunching little dates, one of you makes the first move

Okay, it was you, but he was planning on it, alright?

And one thing leads to another and he’s absolutely struck by the fact that you want to be with him? Like are you certain you’re really single? You’re an absolutely god(dess) and???

But the two of you tear it up, like actors do, and Julian

Julian is the reason the two of you can’t keep it a secret

He’s like a puppy on crack when it comes to you, and you’re almost always touching and he’s always making jokes to make you smile or break character

Julian is just 

Muriel

He really isn’t aware that he’s going to be playing a love interest in the first place

Like it’s so wild to him that he’s not going to be playing a villain, and he’s gonna play someone with a romance arc?

And then - holy shit, it gets even more wild? - he’s playing a movie star’s love interest?

He’s a major fan of your work - especially those rom-coms and that one CGI sci-fi movie you did - and then he finds out that you’re a fan of his Broadway roles?

He’s practically buzzing, bouncing around, which is not the best look for the big, broody, ominous character

His absolute favorite scene is during the pre-season “Prologue” when you chase after him in the courtyard, because you go hard

And then, while filming the beginning of Julian’s route, he finally asks you out on like, a date

And you agree?

This job is actually insane, but he’s not going to complain

After things have gotten more serious, you’re at the premier of his Route

Everyone has been talking about y’all’s return, everyone is going off, and then, at the premier, Muriel spills that the two of you are together in real life, so that helped him get in character (because he’s the Tom Holland of this world honestly)

The press absolutely eats it up, and Tumblr goes crazy

Portia

When she auditioned, she assumed it would be for a side character - which she is, for the first four seasons Routes

But they tell her that if it doesn’t flop, and they make it to the fifth season, Route she’s going to be the showrunner’s love interest

Aaaaaaaaaand the main character happens to be you, but she only freaks out on the inside, because you were the main character in her absolute favorite sci-fi film, and now you’re here! And her LI to be!

Cool, cool, very cool

She’s a bit of a mess around you, but she holds it all together for the Job and for the Aesthetic

She’s a riot, and it’s probably still during filming of the “Prologue” that the two of you get together, considering she’s just so alluring

And it goes great! It doesn’t really affect work, save the faces she’ll shoot you to try and make you break character, but she does that to everyone

I could totally seeing her doing the second gag in this reel (Raven’s monologue, Beast’s gag) during Valerius’ monologue or something

The two of you are doing like a video interview, like a planned thing

And you just kind of let it slip that the two of you are dating, that it won’t affect the show, etc.

And Portia just looks at you, simultaneously smiling and confused af

But she’s so glad that the two of you can be open with your relationship because she felt like she was going to combust

Lucio

Lucio honestly doesn’t get all that much screen time in the first five routes, until their finales

And so the two of you don’t really get a chance to click or connect until his route

You might be a big mainstream name, but he’s not at all afraid of you, or talking to you, and that’s really what draws you to him

His confidence and unashamed flirting is just absolutely endearing, and you compare him to Lucio constantly

The two of you start dating after the big release of his first “Chapter”, as they’re so lovingly called on screen

And he proposes just after you wrap up filming his Upright Ending, and it’s absolutely magical and a little rushed, but all things with Lucio are

The show is starting to come to an end, and the press is dying to know if you clicked with any of the other characters - and if the courtiers are getting seasons Routes, but you have to physically cover Muriel’s mouth for that one

And you just kind of drop that “Oh, Lucio and I are engaged.” and flash the ring before moving on

The press goes hog wild

Also please just imagine Lucio looking like this while he’s the Ghoast 

[luvnhugsgt]

G/T: Everybody Loves Me: Chapter 1

It’s nice to get out of the house, but the obligatory sunglasses and baseball cap make me abstain from it sometimes. It’s staggering how many times people know who you are even with the accessories, anyway. There was a time not so long ago that I could leave my home as-is, and blend into my place in society, just like anybody else.

It was the ‘little things’ I’d missed the most, like getting a shake on my way home from work. The last time I passed the drive-thru was two days ago, but I was on the bus with my TV show’s crew and I obviously couldn’t stop what we were doing.

That’s why, today, I finally felt a strong enough urge to just sit down and peacefully enjoy a shake in public, and if it took all the regalia to get me there, I was prepared to accept it. I listen to the sound of other diners’ conversations around me as I enter the outlet, basking in the incandescent ceiling lights. It hurts a little bit that I can look the cashier directly into her eyes, but she can’t look into mine. Se la vie; at least she’s someone normal I can talk to.

Drink finally in my hands, I take the most satisfying seat ever into a fairly secluded booth. Oh my gosh, it looks so good! And I feel so goo-

A throat clears rather loudly behind me-

Oh Lord. What is it this time?

“You dropped this,” says a random voice from the sky, and a silver ring is unceremoniously dumped into my beverage.

A gasp rattles me as I turn my head toward it, expecting the usual reaction.

“I’m s-“

‘-uch a big fan,’ I think to myself, unimpressed but unsurprised at the oncoming starstruck change in tone.

“-o sorry!” He finishes.

I can’t hide the dumb look on my face as I think of something to say. “Oh- n-no, no, it’s okay. Really.”

The ring-bearer’s head is slung down, looking pained, and I’m now both confused and sad. Taking off the sunglasses, I smile, “Hey, chin-up, buddy, you’re fine. You did such a nice thing, bringing me my ring back. I really have to thank you.”

He doesn’t seem too moved until I add, “It’s just a drink, after all.”

A look that I could only describe as realizing something passes his face as he meets my gaze again, body softening up. “Yeah. I guess it is,” he beams.

“You know, my grandpa gave me this ring. He was a single dad for most of his life, until he met Mary, a kind woman that he truly loved, and he fell so deeply for her that he decided to propose to her, even both being in their seventies,” I smiled. “Unfortunately, Mary isn’t with us anymore, and they never did get that chance to marry each other. But, every time look at this ring, it reminds me of that old cliché, ‘It’s about the journey, not the destination,’” I muse, grazing the ring with my thumb. I look up again to find the gentle giant looking incredibly peaceful. I clear my throat, “So, don’t be so hard on yourself, kid. You just took me on a sweet trip down memory lane.”

He grins ear-to-ear, pushing a lock of wild hair away from his face. “Well, in that case, it’s lucky that your ring found its way up the escalator where I could see it,” he points, then brings his hand to his chin, “but I do wonder how it got there.”

My story isn’t anything people haven’t heard before. In fact, plenty of nosey bodies poked at me for information when Mary passed away. People were scrutinous of the monetary value of the ring because they wanted to see if I shared my wealth with my grandpa, who made the purchase in the first place. It’s pink tourmaline—not your classic diamond engagement ring—so you can just imagine the scrutiny that provoked. And then, there was this whole allure around it—it wasn’t just any ring, because now, it was the actress Diamond Thompson’s ring.

The moral of the story is, this guy obviously doesn’t know how many people are dying to sell that ring on eBay, and that’s real sweet. I guess somebody dropped it on the escalator.

“Not to brag, but I’m kind of impressed that I was able to pick up that ring and bring it over. I’m not very dexterous at all,” he looked at each of his hands and laughed, “I dropped it on the first few tries.”

Now a toothy smile was finding its way onto my face. “I guess I’m pretty bad at keeping hold of that ring, too,” I held my hand up emphatically, “but at least I’ve attracted a tall, handsome man to come bring it to me.”

Face becoming rosy, the young man pops his dimple. “That’s me, always surprising women with budget-friendly engagement rings,” he shrugs.

[rosy-cheekx]

Case #0162406: Fear Factor

Case #0162407. Statement of Katherine Brown, regarding her experience in a Fear Factory. Statement taken direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. In your own time, Ms. Brown.

Please, it’s just Katherine. Did you have any trouble getting here? I’ve been told it’s quite hidden away. And I’m sorry again to ask you to come here but, as you can see, there’s really no chance of being able to pop down to London for a little day trip.

No, Ms. Katherine, it was no trouble. From what I’ve heard from the papers you have quite a story to tell.

Oh...you read about me? I was really hoping you wouldn’t. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy before hearing my story. I get why they think I am; I get why I’m here. But I know what happened, I know I’m not--

Ms. Katherine, please. I’m not here to pass judgement on your condition, just to take your statement. Now... In your own time.

Yes. Yes, of course... 

I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. When I was a kid, my friends and I would do anything we could. We were kids in the middle of nowhere, so it was mostly shoplifting and riding our bikes down big hills really fast, just to feel that heart-pounding rush of fear and success of survival. Our favorite thing to do, though, was go to haunted houses. From September through to Halloween, we would go to any haunted house attraction we could find and scream ourselves silly. As we got older, it became a more complex game. How long could we last, who would scream the least or the loudest, just kid stuff. Most of us grew out of it eventually, those sorts of attractions only get so scary. Rachel and I, though, we couldn’t get enough of it. We started finding weirder and weirder places to scratch that itch, that need to be terrified. As soon as she had turned 18, being a month and a half younger than me, we had signed up to go to our first touchable house. Typically, haunted houses have a no-touching-the-patrons rule, so the ones that don’t offer that safety were alluring to us. 

It sort of escalated from there, really. In America, there was a guy who had haunted houses so terrifying that you had to sign waivers and take a psych exam to go through. I’ve read all sorts of stories about them locking people in cages, cutting their hair, feeding them all sorts of things. All completely consensual, of course, a whole new level of terror attractions. It was shut down, I think, but that was the kind of scare we wanted. To go through something like that, and come out alive? We wanted to feel invincible, immortal.

Three years ago, I think, Rachel was in this forum, looking for some attractions that would be open in September. The weirder they are, the more likely they were to be open year-round, because Halloween wasn't the point. She found a really buried ad for one called Fear Factory. I think the ad labeled it as “an immersive experience sure to scare the life out of you.” There weren't any reviews on it at first, which was initially a red flag, but with some digging, we saw it was new.  Like, opened-its-doors-a-month-ago new. They seemed to be legit, their website boasted of other locations in America and Canada, but reviews seemed to be locked behind a password, so the experience wasn’t spoiled for first timers. Rachel put us on the waiting list. We were both freshly 21, feeling unstoppable, and weren’t really thinking about the risks.

A week or so later, we both got an email, claiming our application had been accepted and we were being offered an experience at the Fear Factory next Friday. We both eagerly accepted, and they sent us an address of where to go. We looked it up; an old office complex, rundown, but that fit the aesthetic of something like this pretty well. They had us fill out some detailed surveys, asking about fears, hard limits, and random things, like our relationship to each other, where we went to school, our interests.

We drove together to the complex, parking outside the building, and taking time to do our due diligence. We both texted Peter, a schoolmate of ours, gave him the address of the place, and a time to check in with us. Some of these more complicated scenarios take a while, and it was already 9 in the evening, so we told him to call us at 2 a.m. to check that we were okay. 

As we were both on our phones, we heard a woman clear her throat. She was tall, wearing a black jacket and jeans, and her sunglasses reflected the streetlamps off the lenses. She introduced herself as Mara and said she would take us to the “beginning of the end.” We laughed at that, elbowing each other over being scared. She took us up a few flights of stairs, before rapping a fingerless-gloved hand on the door of the third floor’s landing. She told Rachel to go in and someone would meet her there. I squeezed her hand twice before she left. I wish I had something, told her that I loved her, that I’d see her later, something. 

She brought me to the sixth floor and showed me into a small room. There was a small chair, but the room was completely empty other than that. It smelled sickly sweet, like something rotting. Mara let me in and handed me a strip of black cloth. A blindfold. I sat in the chair and tied it, knotting it carefully beneath my ponytail. She told me to count to 100, take the blindfold off, and the game would begin. As she closed the door, something I couldn’t quite call music began to play. It was high pitched and resonant, almost like an echo of laughter layered over itself.

I began to count, feeling like a kid as I added an unspoken “one hundred” underneath to make sure I wasn’t counting too fast or to slow. As I reached one hundred, the creeping music stopped. I took off the blindfold and blinked to adjust to what I now found myself in: oppressively cold darkness. I stood and extended my hand, slowly making my forward to where I knew the door to be. The intense feeling of fear began to creep over me, and I felt an irresistible smile spread across my face. I found what must be the handle to the door and twisted it. I shut my eyes tight against the harsh white light that filled my field of view. I blinked and adjusted to the light of the stairwell gradually, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. My vision pitched suddenly, the frame of the door bulging impossibly, twisting into what seemed like a smile. I inhaled sharply, like filling my lungs would catch my balance. 

 The sharp descending of the stairs twisted in front of me, my vision still swirling; it would take too long to take the time to carefully step down each without falling. I had to get to the fourth floor. I could escape there. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I leapt, hand on the railing, clearing the full set of steps as my anchored hand guided me down safely. The door for the fifth floor was in front of me, a dull pale metal, but I knew it wouldn’t be safe there. I repeated the process again, using the rail as a track for my hand as I jumped from the fifth floor landing to the fourth, the door with the 4 emblazoned in in black paint rising before me like the pearly gates. I would be safe there. I would be safe there.

I thrust open the door and found myself in the middle of a hallway. The floor was a murky pink and brown laminate, and the white ceiling low. There were no windows. Both ends of the hallway seem to split into two passages. Panic rose in my chest; they were coming. I had to go. I picked blindly, turning left, and running full tilt down the hall. Almost as soon as I had started running, I saw figures turn the corner. Their forms shed no shadows, a part of me registered, but it carried no weight as the bald, rotting, decrepit bodies sprinted towards me, ragged nails and broken teeth glinting in the light of the hallway. They leapt at me, biting and scratching. I’m sure I cried out as one took a chunk of flesh from my hand, but the blood pumping in my ears drowned out most sounds. I don’t know how I fought them off, honestly, adrenaline was overpowering all other senses. I continued running down the hallway.

There was a door. It was identical to the doors that had been in the stairwell, the cold brushed metal distorting reflections. It was only then, seeing a vague version of myself staring back at me that I realized I was no longer feeling that swirling dizziness. Relieved, I opened the door. I wasn’t entirely sure what I am expecting but it certainly wasn’t my dormitory. The tall bedframe, the simple desk, the wardrobe with the mirror hanging over the front of it. It was the mirror, of all things, that beckoned me. I let the door fall shut behind me as I took the few steps to cross the room and stare at myself. There was blood streaked across my face, and it dripped from my hands, which I realized with a start were still curled into tight fists. I had been wearing overalls over a sweater, but the front hung off me like a wilted petal, a snap apparently broken off during my previous encounter. I was a mess. I was dirty. I needed to change.

As soon as that thought had entered my head, I was already peeling off the destroyed overalls, all other thoughts set aside. I should have known it wasn’t over, that fighting a couple zombie-like creatures wouldn’t have been enough. It was too warm in this room, too sterile to be my dorm. But none of those concerns crossed my mind as I opened the creaky wooden door to the wardrobe, where I knew a fresh pair of jeans would be. And there were, I suppose. But opening the door had seemed to interrupt the new occupants of my closet, a massive hive of wasps that had built a nest along the swinging corner of the door and the small magnet that held the door closed. I had effectively torn the nest in two, and my error was not easily forgiven. I did hear myself scream this time as furious insects swarmed me, sharp stings lighting up my body like a thousand electric shocks. I staggered and backed into the wall, hands pressed over my eyes, too instinctively concerned for my sight to try to swipe at the wasps that flooded my senses. My scream didn’t last long, as my open mouth encouraged some stings to my tongue as well, and I gritted my teeth shut, heaving panicked breaths. I wasn’t sure how long I was there, pressed into the corner opposite the wardrobe, until gradually I realized that the stinging over my body was the throbbing of the previous wounds, not the inflicting of new ones. Tentatively uncovering my eyes, I surveyed the room. I was grateful to discover I must have knocked the mirror off its supports in my struggle, unable to comprehend what I must look like now, more histamine than human. I crept forward, avoiding the broken glass, except for a brief pause to stoop and gingerly grab a hefty shard. If there more of those undead bodies, I wanted to be ready. I also saw that the wasp’s nest was gone somehow. The compartment was devoid of the rolls of papery hive and any evidence the wasps had existed besides my aching body was gone. I was relieved and quickly grabbed the first pair of jeans I could find, wincing all the while as I shook out the folds. I refused to be sore and naked for whatever was about to happen next.

As I shook out the dark denim, I watched a handful of tiny specks fall off the pants. I wish it were a lie to say I almost laughed when I saw that they were ants, marching fastidiously along the creases of, upon inspection, every pair of pants I owned. Lucky for me, I suppose, that ants had never bothered me. The bad joke, however? Brutal.

You know how they say that adrenaline and fear help you preserve memories? Flashbulb memories, they’re called. Of traumatic or significant events. Well I think that even the adrenaline that was pounding through me had its limits. I don’t remember what happened next. I must have run out into the hallway, must have tried to find my way out, but it’s all a bit of a blur. I remember something to do with my teeth and a pair of pliers, but I don’t think there’s anything there I want to remember anyways. The next thing I remember, however, is something I don’t think I can ever forget.

I was in another long hallway. Or it could have been the same hallway, I’m not sure how I would know. I saw shadows shift and contract, and a form emerged, completely enveloped in shadow. It looked like a person only in that had two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. The hands were long, and the elbows crooked at wrong angles. The torso was slightly lopsided, like the head was too big to be supported properly. The legs were also impossibly long, and I couldn’t see feet. There was a sound, too, that was bothering me, but I couldn’t quite place it. It was like a low droning or buzzing, like it was trying to speak to me. We stood, frozen in a face-off before it lunged at me, moving at impossible speeds. I blinked and it was practically on top of me, swiping with its talons for fingers. I took some nasty swipes across my abdomen and stabbed at it with my shard of mirror. I missed once but the second time, I stabbed it where the neck and shoulder met. Shadows spilt from the wound, covering my hand in dark fog.

That was when I heard it. The buzzing sound sharpened and cleared up. I heard Rachel, crying, saying my name. I blinked and the shadow person was gone, and it was Rachel who I saw, Rachel whose blood was pooling around my hand, Rachel who I had stabbed. I dropped the mirror fragment and tried to apologize, but the words couldn’t quite leave my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to explain, apologize, or even comfort her, but the light had left her eyes soon enough and I knew I was ready to give up.

Police found me later. Apparently, we had been missing for two days. I don’t remember much of the trial, honestly, but there was never any evidence of either of us being drugged up or anything. They called it a temporary psychotic episode brought on by panic. I was put here instead, and I spend every night trying to avoid sleeping so I don’t see Rachel’s eyes, staring back at me, begging me to help. The...The wasps were real, though, I remember being treated for them in the hospital later.

Thank you, Ms. Katherine. Have... Have a good day. 

Click.

This has been a frustrating one to research. One would think a story with an online internet ad would lead to something. But no, Sasha hasn’t been able to track down any sort of Fear Factory, except for some Salt Lake City haunted house, but further research didn’t lead to any connections. There’s also a band, but there’s also no connections to anyone with the name Mara. Sasha was also able to finagle her way into old text records between Rachel and Peter, and got the address, near Oxford. Martin took a trip down to take a look at it but didn’t find anything. There was, in fact, an abandoned building, and it was, the site of the homicide of Rachel Tillvale, by Katherine Brown, according to police records. The odd part, however, is that Katherine was certain that she was taken to the sixth floor of the building, and that the fourth floor was her escape. Unless Martin has become wholly incapable at his job, which...is probably not the case, there are only three floors of that building. The weird part was the basement. Ms. Brown had mentioned something but couldn’t recall it. I understand why. In the basement of the building, there was a handful of adult teeth in the utility sink.

[azwriting]

A Tea-ffee Date (The Writer and The Photographer, Harry Holland x Reader) - Chapter Four

Hi guys, sorry for the delay on this chapter! I got a little wrapped up in one of my other fics! Anyways here's chapter four, I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

Summary: Harry and (Y/N) go on their tea/coffee date where Harry reveals he read her book and (Y/N) reveals she knew who the curly haired boy was all along. 

Warning(s): Language, Reader has bad relationship with Mom, slight angst

Word Count: 2557

(Y/N) could not contain the pure happiness that was soaking into her skin, like the shining sun above. It had been since, well, since never that she had felt so content and at peace with life. Sure she had, had moments of happiness throughout her life, but it had always seemed like a dark cloud was hovering somewhere nearby. The dark cloud usually her mother… 

(Y/N) shook away the thought, she was thousands of miles away, an ocean away, she would not let the woman get to her here. (Y/N) had a new job, a promising career of writing and editing ahead of her, and not to toot her own horn, but she was pretty damn proud of herself. She was living in London, beneath the warm spring sun, with her best friends and her sweet dog. Not to mention the cute boy next door with wild curls and a contagious laugh, that she was quickly becoming friends with. Who would have thought Spider-Man would be her neighbor? 

Oh yeah she totally knew who Harry and his briefly mentioned brother were, (Y/N) was a massive nerd after all. All of these were reasons as to why she could not, would not, let her own mother squander her ambitions and happiness from a continent away.

It was early Saturday afternoon when Harry strolled into the nearby coffee shop in Kingston, where he had planned to meet (Y/N) for their “Tea-ffee” date as she had called it one day in passing. The Writer had a meeting in the city this morning, so she would be running a tad behind, urging Harry to just meet her at the shop. Harry took a seat in a comfortable chair at a small antique wood table in the back, waiting for his plus one. 

Shifting in his seat, he could hear the crinkling sound of the folded piece of paper in his jeans pocket, the paper filled with questions, remarks, and small notes that he had after reading A Mild Case of the Crazies. The boy had read (Y/N)’s book in one night and he could not even lie, he cried, a couple times. (Y/N)’s childhood had had great moments, filled with love, happiness, laughter and excitement, but there were many parts of it that were heartbreaking, dejecting, and self-esteem squashing. 

Harry now knew her favorite color, her birthday, her favorite movies, that she was in fact a big nerd, her custody agreement, the close relationship she had with her father, and the very tough one she had with her mother. It all only drew him in more, like an insect captivated by a bright light. He knew it was odd to have such intense feelings for someone he had only known for a week, had only talked to a handful of times, most of them in passing, but he could not help the natural allure he felt inside. Harry simply had to befriend her…

Two minutes before the clock struck 12:30 p.m. the front door was pulled open to reveal a woman walking in, catching Harry’s attention. She wore a black long sleeve tucked into a black and gray plaid skirt, black sheer stockings and black booties. Her red lips, sunglasses, and crossbody purse the only color against her monotone outfit. (Y/N)’s headphones were in her ears as she entered the coffee shop, Harry was pretty sure he could hear the music from his seat, eyes hidden behind her sunglasses as she scoped out the small shop. 

Her head finally turned to Harry’s small corner and a large grin broke out across her face. She rushed over, pulling her headphones out of her ears and placing her sunglasses atop her head, revealing her sparkling (Y/E/C) eyes. “Hey!” She greeted warmly, Harry standing to hug her. (Y/N) pressed a quick kiss to his cheek during the hug and Harry was certain his cheeks had turned to the exact shade of red as (Y/N)’s lipstick imprint. She did not seem to notice and if she did, she did not mention it. “Did you order yet?” (Y/N) questioned pointing behind her to the front counter. 

Harry shook his head moving towards the line, “No, I was waiting for you.” 

(Y/N) smiled at that following suit, “And they say chivalry is dead!”

After ordering their drinks and Harry insisting to pay, the two sat back down with their drinks in hand, tea for Harry and an iced coffee for (Y/N). “So…” (Y/N) giggled taking a sip of her drink. 

“So…” Harry mirrored smiling at the girl across from him. 

“Where do you want to start?” Harry pondered for a moment, taking a sip of his tea, the liquid warming his insides, it may be early May but the cooler temperatures were still sticking in East London. 

“Oh, I know, I read your book!” (Y/N)’s eyes bugged out, choking on her current sip of coffee. 

“You did?!” 

Harry laughed nodding as he retrieved the folded piece of paper from his pocket, “And I have some questions!” He waved the piece of paper in front of (Y/N), who still seemed to be in shock. She could not process the fact that Harry Holland had read HER book! Harry unfolded the piece of paper, revealing both sides to be filled with tiny scrawls of notes, questions, etc. 

“Oh dear god!” Harry flushed, mildly embarrassed, he could not help but want to address certain aspects of the book, and it was not often where you could do so openly with the actual author. “How about we make a deal?” Harry’s eyebrow rose at that, “For every question you ask me, I ask one in return?” 

A soft innocent smirk spread across (Y/N)’s red lips and it had Harry instantly nodding, unsure of what he was getting himself into, but he reminded himself that this is what he signed up for. 

“Deal.” (Y/N) bit her lip, gesturing with a manicured finger for him to start. 

Clearing his throat Harry mindlessly read off his first question, “Is it true your mum and you haven’t spoken since the book? Even after the epilogue?” Harry could admit the book illustrated (Y/N)’s mother to be an interesting person, one who yes, loved her children, but had the wrong way of showing it. 

Throughout the book, throughout the different years and milestones (Y/N) covered in her early years of life, her mother had always seemed to be a looming presence, one that had and Harry would quote the book, ‘...dragged me down into a deep abyss of self doubt and depression. One that no matter how hard I tried to climb out of, her dark tentacles would pull me back down into her suffocating grasp.’ 

The line had resonated with Harry as the boy could not imagine his mother doing that to him, instead she had always pushed the boys to spread their wings not drown. Yet, after an entire 369 pages of (Y/N)’s life, many chapters delving into her increasingly tough relationship with her mother, the Epilogue had been dedicated to the woman. (Y/N) had expressed her understanding of her tough childhood, of their constant arguments, and the hurtful words. She wrote how she understood her mother’s own demons had weighed her down, causing problems in their bond and how her mother could not accept responsibility for tarnishing that precious bond, instead choosing to blame her own daughter and ex-husband. (Y/N) wrote how after writing the past 360 or so pages, she had finally greeted acceptance as an old friend, and accepted that these were parts of her past. And on the final page of the heart wrenching book in big bold lettering three words were written that sent the world into a spiral of emotions. 

‘I Forgive You.’

  It was heavy, the book was heavy, touching upon things not many other books chose to discuss, the relationship between a child and a mentally ill parent. 

(Y/N) let out a loud huff of air, “Starting off with the hot and heavy huh?” 

Harry’s eyes widened at that, how foolish of him to ask that question first or even at all, “I-I’m so sorry, you don’t need t-to answer!” (Y/N) shook her head, a small smile on her face reassuring him. 

“No no, I don’t mind. Trust me I’ve dished plenty to interviewers and even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t mind telling you.” (Y/N) spoke calmly making Harry feel better. “No we haven’t talked really since the release of the book, almost two years ago now, but honestly she hasn’t even read the book. I believe she only read the first few chapters which I’ll admit don’t paint her in the prettiest light, but she never finished reading it.” (Y/N) shrugged, trying to hide the small frown on her features. Harry frowned with her, his sympathy going to the girl, he could not imagine his own mother acting in such a way.

 Clearing her throat, (Y/N) dismissed her sorrows and turned back to Harry, a smile returning to her face. “My turn,” She pretended to ponder for a moment tapping her finger against her chin, “What’s it like having three brothers?” 

Harry groaned, “A chaotic mess honestly!” He had answered so quickly, his mind had not even fully registered her question. “Wait!” His eyes widened and (Y/N) only smirked in return. “How do you know I have three brothers? I only mentioned one!” (Y/N) giggled lifting her shoulders in a simple ‘you caught me’ motion. 

“C’mon Harry! You read my book! I talk in extensive detail about my love for the Marvel movies! Hell, I was going to go to Film school so I could work for Disney before the whole book thing!” Film School? Ah yes he did remember reading about that in her book, another reason he was drawn to the girl. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry questioned, a small part of him beginning to doubt (Y/N)’s intentions with him, was she here to learn about Harry or his infamous heartthrob brother Tom?

 “I’m sorry would you prefer this,” (Y/N) paused inhaling sharply, “OMG Harry Holland is that you???” Her voice rose up an octave while still trying to be quiet in the store as to not draw any unwanted attention. 

Harry snorted, no he guessed he did not want that, but his inner doubt was still plaguing his thoughts, “So you’re a Spider-Man fan then?” 

(Y/N) nodded immediately, “Oh yeah love him, more of a Cap girl though.” Harry sighed a little, perhaps this was only an opportunity to meet famous actors, not that he thought so lowly of (Y/N), but he was just used to people cozying up to him for their own advantages. (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed watching him as if she was reading his thoughts, “I love Spider-Man don’t get me wrong, but I kinda have a thing for curly haired redheads.” She smirked at him as Harry’s face instantaneously burned bright red, her words squashing his doubts.

 “H-hey I’m not a redhead!” Harry defended, eliciting a loud laugh from (Y/N), the girl’s eyes widening in disbelief. 

“Oh Oh Oh you so are!”

The cool spring breeze whipped past the two as they walked down the sidewalk of Kingston, enjoying the sun and blossoming trees. “So you have a little brother?” Harry questioned, lightly bumping his shoulder into (Y/N). Her covered eyes looked over to him, a smile always on her lips, Harry never wanted her to stop smiling at him. 

“Yes I do, my pride and joy that goof!” (Y/N) laughed lightly, before looking off into the distance recalling something. Harry knew (Y/N) and her younger half brother had a close relationship, he had read all about it. Her Mother and Stepfather had always been working in their youth, leading to (Y/N) to practically raise the boy herself. An 11 year old girl becoming a parent to a 3 year old boy, it was absurd. 

Harry could only imagine the strain their mother had caused on their relationship as well, the book had described how she hated the motherly role (Y/N) had taken on for her brother. 

“He’s coming to visit during the summer, hopefully you can meet him!” (Y/N) spoke, returning to look at Harry, who nodded in agreement. The rest of the walk was quiet, the two mirroring flats coming into view. The two stopped in front of (Y/N)’s stairs, both fiddling with their feet as looked at each other, obviously hesitant to depart. 

The pair were unsure where this was leading; were they meant to be friends or something more? Neither could really tell, but the significant pull and attraction between the two was noticeable and unfightable, not that either one of them wanted to fight it.

 “Do you… do you want to come in?” (Y/N) asked, a nervous smile on her face. Harry grinned in return, his face was starting to hurt from all the smiling.

 “I’d like that.” With that, (Y/N) quickly turned on her heel and rushed up the steps to unlock the dark blue door, Harry following.

 “Honey I’m home!” (Y/N) shouted as she hung up her red crossbody onto one of many white hooks perched on the side wall. The flat was similar to Tom’s but this one appeared a tad bigger with a different layout and color scheme. Not to mention it looked much cleaner and more styled than Tom’s.

 “No one cares!” A voice called back and (Y/N) scoffed lightly as she removed her shoes and placed them in a shoe basket beneath the hooks. (Y/N)’s stocking covered feet shuffled forward on the dark wood floor as she bent down to greet the excited black lab who came bounding in, while Harry removed his shoes as well.

 “How was your date with the cute neighbor?” Another voice called making (Y/N) cough loudly as she walked into the kitchen on the left.

 “Um it went well, considering…” (Y/N) trailed off as Harry entered the kitchen behind her, Bella licking his palm, and the two twin girls surrounding the kitchen island going bugged eyed. “Harry this is Hayley,” (Y/N) pointed to the blonde girl standing behind the island, “and Madison”, she pointed to the brunette girl sitting on one of the bar stools at the island. “Guys this is Harry.” Short awkward waves were given along with small hello’s, (Y/N) only giggling as she moved to wash her hands at the large kitchen sink behind Hayley.

 “Idiot” Madison murmured under her breath, regarding Hayley’s remark about the cute neighbor, who happened to be in the townhouse as well.

 “God you’re so fucking annoying!” Hayley groaned back at her twin, which only earned her a huff in return.

 “Well you’re fucking ugly!” (Y/N)’s head dropped in the background as she snickered to herself and Harry had to hide his small laugh into the palm of his hand. The two twins were identical, besides their hair color, which only meant Madison was insulting herself. 

“Ok then!” (Y/N) laughed drying her hands on a blue kitchen towel, “I’m going to show Harry around. You two, keep doing whatever you are doing!” (Y/N) practically pushed Harry back down the front hall towards the stairs, unbeknownst to the eyes trailing after them. 

Madison leaned back in the black iron chair and Hayley leaned over to the kitchen island, the two watching their best friend and the neighbor ascend the stairs, both of them staring at each other fondly. 

“This oughta be interesting.”

Taglist:

@aloneinherroom​

@ineedabifriend​

[galvanizedfriend]

This is something that I was once upon a time planning on turning into a multichapter but that I don’t think will ever happen anymore, so here’s my two cents to the Klaroline Rewind event!  Caroline had a night to forget with the douchebag of the century and, a year later, she meets him again at the airport for the wedding of the best friend they unfortunately share. AU/AH, romcom-ish type of thing. Just cause I had to unwind after writing 8k words of angst.

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

Caroline met The Worst Guy Ever about a year ago.

 No, really. The Worst. 

Men are, as a general rule, pigs. If women were to make in-depth pros-versus-cons evaluations of every guy they meet before deciding on whether to hook up with them or not, well. Let's just say the perpetuation of the human species would be seriously endangered. There's only but a handful of guys out there who are really worth any woman's time, and Caroline hasn't had the pleasure of meeting many representatives of that rare, dying breed. They're like real life unicorns. And it doesn't help that Caroline is a walking magnet for dudebros. 

She doesn't know what is it about her that gets them to crawl out of sewers and holes in hell to greet her with their Hey there, gorgeous’ or Have I died and gone to heavens whenever she walks into a bar. It's probably the blonde hair. She's considered going darker a few times, but she's a natural blond, her highlights are incredible and her hair is way too pretty for her to dye it just because guys can't even bother to work on their lame pick-up lines and still expect her to have sex with them. And the sad truth is, if she's really desperate, she will.

 It's exhausting to be a twenty-something single woman in the XXI century. There's the pressure of making it in this godforsaken world as an adult, there's the pressure from society's understanding that a woman of her age should be looking for serious commitment with marriage in sight, and then there's also the pressure that comes from the needs of her very horny human body. It's just too much. She really hopes to come back as a lesbian in her next life. Bisexual at the very least. Everything would be so much easier if she just didn't need men at all, not even for their parts.

 But anyway. The Worst Guy. Yes, Caroline's met her fair share of jerks and idiots, so it takes something really special to leave her aghast. This guy is a king among douchebags. And that's not just her personal opinion; she's shared the story with all her friends and the friends of her friends, and all the women at her work, and even some random people at bars or parties. The collective response to her tale is always a disgusted ugh! followed by What an ass! or Please, tell me you punched that son of a bitch?. If you discount abusive, aggressive and violent men, who are criminals and not in the same category as everyday lame-ass men, he really is The Worst.

 Caroline doesn't like to say she's not over it yet because it implies bestowing a level of importance to the fact that is not merited. The guy was a friend of a friend - her best friend, yes, but still only a notch above a complete stranger. She knew him for three days when the story went down and, technically, they did no more than make out for a little bit, so it's not like they had any kind of relationship going on. He's not important, just a guy who did something astoundingly douchebaggy.

 The whole thing was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared between girls, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see the guy again and could just wipe him out of her memory for good. Considering they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too difficult.

 Which is exactly why Caroline is livid to come out of the arrivals area at the Richmond airport to find him there, wearing sunglasses indoors, like the proper ass that he is and holding up a sign that says Clarisse and giving her that smug, dimpled smile that got her wanting to suck face with him the first time but now just makes her blood boil.

 She is going to murder Tyler on his wedding week.

 Caroline inhales deeply through her nose, plasters the most sardonic, Miss-Mystic-Falls saccharine smile she can muster on her face and braces herself for confrontation. If she puffs out her chest, throws her hair back to show a little more cleavage and has a bit of Naomi on her gait as she walks over to him, well. Who can blame her, right?

 "Hello, love," he greets her in that insufferable Royal Asshole accent of his. It wouldn't surprise her at all to find out he's not even really British, that the accent is just another item on his long list of douchebaggy features. "Such a pleasure to see you again."

 "That's so sweet of you, Nicholas. Too bad I can't say the same."

 He laughs, the idiot. "I trust you had a pleasant flight."

 "Lovely! Everything was perfect until the moment I walked out and saw you," she says, punctuating her sentence with a grin. "Please tell me Tyler is dead, because that really is the only acceptable excuse for sending you to pick me up."

 "Tyler had some urgent matters that required his attention and apparently thinks I've got nothing more important to do than serve as chauffeur to his ex-girlfriends."

 "And you couldn't be your disappointment-of-a-friend usual self and send someone else instead? An Uber driver would've sufficed."

 "And miss the chance of surprising my lovely old friend Clarisse? Nonsense!" he says, smirking. "Tyler also reminded me that I have certain responsibilities as his best man. I was entirely unaware, but it seems being his personal slave is one of those, who would've known?"

 Tyler is so dead.

 "Aren't you a dear?" Caroline asks around a sigh.

 "I know. Now, have you got everything you need?"

 "If I'll be spending an hour in a car with you, I might need a weapon. Do you think I could buy a gun here somewhere?"

 Klaus chuckles, taking her luggage as he starts walking towards the parking lot. If she didn't know any better, she'd almost believe his gentlemanly act. "I've missed you, Caroline."

 "So you do know my name."

 "It comes and goes," he says flippantly. "How's New York this time of the year?"

 "Humid. How's hell?"

 "Not the same since you left." She can't help the laughter that escapes her. His sense of humor is on point, she'll give him that. "You are sorely missed in New Orleans," he continues.

 "I hardly remember New Orleans." Lie.

 "I'd be more than happy to escort you down memory lane, perhaps tend to certain unfinished business," he offers in a very casual manner, but the wolfish smile on his lips leaves no doubt over his intentions.

 "I believe we made a non-breakable deal about never discussing New Orleans again," Caroline reminds him as they stop by a huge black SUV. "Wow, that's a very big car. Are you trying to compensate for something?"

 His smile widens, showing teeth and those damn dimples again. There should be a law against douchebags coming in such alluring packages. "Would you like to find out?"

 "Sorry, I'm not that desperate yet. I'll let you know if every other human being on the planet dies, though. Then you'll be first and last on my list. Until then, we don't talk about it. In fact - here's a great idea. How about we just don't talk at all?"

 "We made a deal about never telling other people. I don't see what the problem of discussing it is if it's just us girls," he says, loading her luggage into the back of the car.

 "The only thing I can recall from that night is that everything was very basic, very below par, and there was not a lot to be missed there, so I really don't see the point."

 "You wound me, love," he says, a frown showing behind his sunglasses.

 Caroline smiles again. "Not nearly as much as I'd like to."

[centineoah-blog]

I Hate Everything About You - Part 1 (Noah Centineo)

She’s the daughter of Robert Downey Jr., struggling to find her own name in the industry, while he’s the internet’s collective crush, learning how to deal with his new-found fame. What happens when they get cast together in a TV adaptation of her favourite book series?

Word Count: 2.6 K

Pairings: Noah Centineo X Reader

Warnings: None as far as I’m aware, bit of love/hate if you're not into that, bit of drinking, spray tans, paparazzi

There is just something incredibly satisfying about kicking back, putting your feet up and lying in the sun, doing nothing at all. The sound of the waves crashing, little kids squealing all around and the sultry rays of the sun beating down on you, warming you up from within – it’s summer at its absolute best. Which is why, I’m sprawled out on a deck chair on Santa Monica Beach, California, sipping a Piña Colada – I’m only seventeen but here with my very lenient mother – With a pair of shades shielding my eyes and the rest of my bikini-clad body exposed, so as to work up a tan. Hard work, I know, since I’ve been at it for nearly four hours now and there isn’t even a toasty hint on my skin to show for it. My complexion is pasty and uneven, which I have no idea how because I’ve been in California all my life. The least I should have is beautiful, evenly bronzed skin.

Ugh, I think in frustration, I should’ve just gotten one of those terrible, orange, spray tans to match the president. At least they’re easy to get.

Correction to my earlier statement, then – There is just something incredibly satisfying about kicking back, putting your feet up and lying in the sun, doing nothing at all, when you’re capable of tanning! My back is stiff and I’m sweating like a pig, as there is hardly any wind today. The humidity has resulted in my hair going beyond frizzy and I’m completely unrecognizable, so at least there is no chance of any paparazzi getting candid shots of me and making them viral with headlines like- ‘Y/N Downey shows off sexy bikini bod!’ Or something equally ridiculous.

Now, I said ‘unrecognizable’ and ‘paparazzi’ so you must be wondering what the hell that’s about. No, no, I’m not some narcissistic bitch with an absurdly high opinion of herself. Although, you aren’t that far off. Let me explain.

My name is Y/N Downey. I’m an up-and-coming actress although people hardly refer to me as that. Generally, people know me as the only daughter of Robert Downey Jr., one of America’s most successful and famous movie actors, and I’m not just saying this cause he’s my father. You might also know him as Iron Man but to me, he’s just dad.

Obviously, since my father is ‘the great Robert Downey Jr.’ everyone just naturally expects me to be a stuck-up, spoilt brat who gets everything handed to her on a silver platter. They think it’s all a piece of cake for me, that I don’t have to work for making a name for myself since my father has so conveniently made it for me.

Wrong.

To this day, my father has never pulled any strings or called in favours to get me a part. In fact, that was his one and only condition when I expressed that I wanted to take up acting as a profession. He made me promise that I’d never use his name to get my way and work hard on my own to achieve something. Luckily, and not to be too full of myself or anything, but I’m a good actor. I suppose it has something to do with being in my dad’s company, since it can’t be genes. That’s because I’m adopted, and the Downeys are the only family I have ever known.

Anyway, every single role that I have done until now, I’ve got it through legit auditions in stinky and badly lit rooms. Mr. Downey has never influenced any aspect of my career. So, you see, I’m just another teenaged girl with a big dream. Okay, that might be an exaggeration. But except for the fact that my dad is a big movie star and I live in an unreasonably large house, and have more cars than I could possibly want to drive and I’ve never been to a public school – whaddup, homeschooling! – Really, I’m just the same as your typical teenaged girl.

So that’s my story. Now let’s get back to the present day. It was all my mother’s stupid idea.

“We never spend any quality time together.” She’d cooed the night before. “How about we head to the beach tomorrow? You could sunbathe.” She’d added temptingly and like the idiot that I am, I was sold by the allure of a tan. 

Hence, my discomfort now. Hell, last night I’d even thought I’d go for a nice little swim down here.

My brain wanders off on its own trail – Is this day ever going to end?! And what the heck is up with the sun? Move a bit dude, go shine your bright face in someplace they need it.

I groan in irritation.

My mother snaps her head to me. She pushes up her sunglasses to her head and glares at me. 

“If you’re so annoyed, you shouldn’t have come.” She growls.

“You made me.” I mutter quietly.

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“Of course you did. You held up tanning like a bait and you knew I’ve always wanted to –” I’m cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. I fish it out of my bag.

“Ava!” I’m met with a shrill but pleasant greeting from my agent, Joanna.

“Hey Jo!”

“So guess the best thing that could’ve possibly happened?”

That’s how Joanna Preston always talked. Whatever you wanted to find out, you guessed. I think she’s incapable of forming non-interrogative sentences. It gets annoying a lot of the times.

“Um, everything in the world is made of chocolate?” I ask, unsure.

Joanna laughs. “No. Hint – it has something to do with Colors.”

My heart stops. There’s only one reason Joanna’s calling me about Colors.

“Someone’s making a movie about it?” I breathe in disbelief.“Better.”

What’s better than a movie?

“Someone’s making two movies about it?” I question dubiously.

“Someone’s making a TV Series about it.” She states firmly. Oh, non-interrogative! Perhaps there is hope for her yet.

A little gasp escapes my lips.

The Colors trilogy is my favourite book series in the world!

“And guess who the best agent in the whole wide world is?” She’s back, ugh, never mind.

“You, obviously.” I say rolling my eyes.

“That’s right!” She exclaims. “And guess who landed the lead?”

My jaw pops open.

“Me? They just gave it to me? No auditions or screen tests?” I ask, disbelieving.

“Yeah!” She squeals.

I furrow my brows, not quite understanding where this was all going. Joanna must’ve been able to sense my apprehension because she promptly launches into an explanation.

“Apparently they loved you on Teen Wolf and they wanted a new and fresh face, so they decided you’d be perfect. I’ve managed to find out that they’ve practically finalised you but of course, they’d still like you to show up and read some lines but that’s purely formal. The part is yours!”

I did a two-episode cameo in the third season of Teen Wolf and it was received very well. More importantly, it resulted in me becoming friends with Tyler Posey. He is pure perfection.

A dumbass grin spreads over my entire face.

“Do you know who’s playing Mason yet?”

Mason is my almost-character, Ali’s love interest in the books.

“Yeah, but he’s in the same condition as you. In fact, I suppose they’ll be asking both of you to go down there together.”

“Who is it, though?” I can’t contain my excitement.

“Noah Centineo.”

I almost fall out of my deck chair.

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It’s been nearly two weeks since I found out I’m almost playing Alison in the TV Series adaptation of Colors and today, I’m going to be finalized. Or I’m hoping to be, since I’ve been called down today for my ‘audition’ and I’m absolutely thrilled and raring to just go down there and bag it. A couple of days ago, the producers contacted my agent, Joanna, and gave them the final dates for the trial. Also, just as Joanna had predicted, Noah Centineo, is being called in to audition for Mason and we’re auditioning together. I must say, that, I’m not thrilled about. 

I’m not exactly sure why I get hostile at just the thought of this guy and somewhere in my head, a rational voice answers that it’s because of how much I love this character. Mason Scott is my favourite fictional character and if some douchebag with cool hair messes it up, then as a loyal fan, I have every right to have a vendetta against him. It could be that he’s the biggest actor at the moment, answers the rational voice again but I ignore it. Of course it had to be him. I am sick of seeing him everywhere, and how everyone is obsessed with him. Honestly, how is it that someone who literally just blew up overnight, lands a role as big as Mason Freaking Scott?! He must have pulled in some serious favours. 

It suddenly dawns on me, then, that he would probably be thinking the same thing about Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter getting the lead – that it wasn’t my skill that got me this part. I quickly brush it off.

“Blue or beige?” I hold up two identical blouses, trying to decide which one to wear to the audition.

“Definitely the beige. Wear the brown skirt with it.” My mother comments from her spot on my bed.

My mother and I had a tiff about this role earlier, since it’s gonna have a fair bit of nudity in, but I’m happy to tell you that I was able to finally get through to her about how big this role is for my career.  Everybody’s excited to see a reboot.

My dad helped as well, explaining the whole situation to my earlier apprehensive mother and now she’s supporting me whole-heartedly. Or she’s pretending to, but either way, I’m glad she’s accepted that I’m going to do this and that she’s really cool about it. 

I, on the other hand, am a sack full of nerves right now. I might appear to be confident and, quoting my own self ‘raring to go’, but on the inside I’m. Freaking. Out. It’s like a dream role and I do not want to mess this up in any way. I don’t want the makers to have second thoughts about casting me; I don’t want to give them any reason to so much as even think about someone else. And obviously, that leaves zero room for error on my part. None. Nada.

So, clearly, there’s no pressure!

My head is pounding as I walk into the studio, script in hand. The audition is the part when Mason first takes Ali to his apartment and tells her about his lifestyle and what he does for a living, letting her know what she’s in for if she agrees to be with him. I know all my lines by heart and my dear friend, Tyler, and I have been through them almost a hundred times but it’s still a rather difficult scene if you consider the acting side of it because it really shows Ali’s innocence and her willingness to step into the dark with Mason.

Speaking of, where the hell is this overrated hero?! I’d really like it if I could just run through these lines with him at least once before the main audition.

I’m walking around the studio with an expression that says I own the place because people keep stepping out of my way, when, really, all I’m doing is being annoyed as I try to find my arrogant co-auditioner.

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a bit premature calling him arrogant. Seriously though? Who on earth would just waltz in there and read their lines with an unknown person, for the first time, to audition for the role of a lifetime? An arrogant person, that’s who, because even I am willing to swallow my pride and look for this brat for a little practice.

I somehow end up walking to the kitchen, well not somehow because I could murder a coffee right now, and surprise, surprise, Mr. Centineo is sitting right there with his posse. I stop dead in my tracks as soon as our eyes meet and he stares at me for several seconds, not blinking. And then, slowly, he raises a brow as he gives me a relaxed, deliberate once-over.

And it pisses me off.

Like, I know I’m looking nice right now but seriously dude, I’m about to be your goddamned co-star! Show a little respect, for god’s sake!

To be honest though, I don’t even know why I’m so offended. Maybe it’s his gorgeous hair. I notice that there are three other guys sat next to him and I assume those are his ‘buddies’; they look the type – all dude bro-ish in their stupid hoodies and ripped, skinny jeans. Not that I have anything personal against hoodies or ripped, skinny jeans. Or dude-bros, for that matter. But I wasn’t told I could bring my friends.

Ass.

Finally regaining my ability to walk, I make a bored face as if I audition for huge shows every day, and then head straight to the counter off the side of the room, ignoring him completely. Behind me, I hear snickers and hushed voices as I’m pouring my coffee in a paper cup. I roll my eyes.

Grow up, boys.

I dump two packets of sugar and stir it vigorously. Putting on the lid, I turn around and my coffee is knocked out of my hand.

“ARGH!! The fudge!” I growl.

I’m surprised at my ability to control myself. I had a whole variety of choice expletives I could’ve used in this situation. I look up and standing in front of me is the newest bane of my existence. And he’s smirking.

I reward him with the stoniest face I can manage.

“Hey, I’m Noah.” He says and okay, I’ll admit it, his voice is So. Hot. 

No! I’m furious right now, I can’t think about that. What the hell is he playing at? I need an apology.

“You spilled my coffee.” I mutter in quiet fury as I point out his first misdemeanour.

“Whoa woah, not the friendly type, are you?”

“I suppose I wouldn’t be either if my dad was Iron Man.” He adds with a snigger. My jaw pops open.

How dare he?!

Strike Two. I’m overwhelmed by how much I want to break his pretty little jaw.

“What the hell?! You have no right to say that.” I yell.

Further to my irritation, he grins – teeth and all. Perfectly straight, white teeth and all. But, anyway.

“What?” I snap.

“You’re fiery.” He remarks in amusement and the next thing I know is a sharp, stinging feeling in the palm of my hand and Centineo’s shocked expression.

Okay, so I might’ve slapped him.

Before I can react or try to apologise – not that I was going to, he clearly had three strikes, but it’s the thought that counts – I get a call from Joanna.

“Y/N, they’re calling you in now. Stage 36.” 

“I’m coming.”

“If you see Noah on the way, let him know they want him too.”

“I haven’t seen him.” I bark as I hang up.

I walk around Noah Centineo in a huff and he stares after me, dumbstruck, as I walk out the door, still holding the cheek that holds proof of my assault.

Now how’s that for ‘fiery’?

Part 2

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 15

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Fifteen, The Witnesses

Sam

The news about angels had me flying high. We were never taught to be religious, but I couldn't deny the solace I found when I prayed. I always liked to think about a higher being. If there's a Hell I had to believe there was a Heaven, too. This news was earth shattering.

I took a swig from my beer, sitting across the high top from my brother. I missed him, and having a beer with him felt nice. Natural. Maybe things would fall back into the swing of things after all.

"Sammy I don't want to talk about angels or demons or anything other than how you've been. You've seemed a little in your head since I've been back."

"Sorry about that," I sighed. "It's just been kind of surreal."

"What have you been doing? Other than working. Do you have a girlfriend?"

He looked genuinely interested, and more than anything I wanted to talk to my big brother about Ava. I knew I couldn't. Not explicitly at least. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly? So there is someone! I knew it!"

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"Tell me about her."

"There's not much to tell... it's over."

"Why?" Dean asked, taking a drink from his beer bottle.

"I don't think she feels the same way about me as I do her."

"And how is that?" Dean leaned forward eyeing me. "It's not just sex, is it? I can see it in your face. You're in love with her."

I shook my head. "No, but I was getting there." There was a knot in my stomach. "She was just... she had a way about her. The way she made me laugh, and called me on my shit. I can’t help it. When I'm with her I'm happy."

"You deserve to be happy, Sam," Dean said with a nod. "It's all I've ever wanted for you."

"It's just too complicated."

"You should fight for her, Sam. If she's what you want."

I eyed him. "Ava really changed you. Before her you would've been trying to get me laid to forget all about my problems."

"I'm a romantic now. So sue me." He took another swig.

"I'm glad. It's nice to see you have hope, to believe in something."

I should know all about that. She changed me, too.

"So what's her name? This mystery girl."

"Doesn't matter. It's never going to happen."

He groaned in annoyance. "Okay Fine. You can tell me when you're ready, but Sammy if she doesn't know how great you are then maybe she doesn't deserve you."

"She keeps saying that, too."

"But I don't deserve Ava, and she still takes me for what I am. That's love, man. Knowing you're flawed and they want you anyway. So maybe it's worth a shot." He shrugged. "Just sayin. I'll get us another round."

Ava

It had been five days since Dean had been back. We were getting into the swing of things, and other than the fact that I've avoided being alone with Sam, everything was surprisingly normal.

I'd called in the rest of the week to work, but it was Monday, and I was back.

Dean eagerly agreed to watch Nel. "I have nothing else going on. While we try to figure out what our life is, I will stay home with her."

"Back from the dead," Lacey said, waltzing up to my desk.

I wore tight black jeans and my black ankle boots, with a cream tank top under my leather jacket. "That's me," I said weakly.

"Was Sam totally freaked out about the shooting?"

The shooting. Shit I forgot. It felt like a lifetime ago. "No, actually, I didn't tell him."

Lacey sat on the edge of my desk. "And he didn't question your big bruise? I thought you two were in the can't-keep-your-Hands-to-yourself phase of the relationship?"

I rubbed my head and looked at her. "I actually have had a lot happen this weekend."

Lacey raised her eyebrows. "I think we need coffee."

"If not something stronger," I agreed.

We offered to pick up coffee for the station and made our way to the coffee shop. Thankfully Sioux Falls didn't have a lot of high crime, so it was a pretty slow Monday.

I ordered the biggest iced coffee they had and suckled the straw eagerly the moment I sat in the cushioned chair near the window.

"Okay, Winchester. Spill," Lacey said, sitting across from me.

She looked like she had sex hair, but I could tell that it was purposeful by the product smell coming from her. Lacey was trendy, and had an allure about her that I wished I had.

"You remember me telling you about Dean?"

"Tragically handsome husband killed in the war. Yeah, what about him?"

"Turns out he wasn't killed. He showed up at the house after work on Thursday."

Lacey started to cough, choking on her coffee. "What?!"

"That was kind of my reaction."

"How are you not flipping out?" She said once she stopped gasping for air.

"I called into work Friday. I was flipping out."

"Where was he? Was he a prisoner of war? How did he get back?" She was running a mile a minute, her eyes crazed as she tried to grasp the insanity that is my life.

"I haven't really asked.. it's all just been so fast. He finally got to meet Nel... And I don't know, we are taking one thing at a time."

"This is good, though! He is the one, right?" She gasped, and covered her mouth. "Oh my god, Sam."

"Bingo," I whispered into my straw. I caught myself chewing on it with a groan.

She leaned forward. "What're you going to do?"

I'd never had a girlfriend before. No one invested in me, and no one that I cared to share with. Lacey was my partner. She was kind and full of sass. I liked her. I wanted, then, to spill everything to her. I wanted to cry and drink wine and let myself crack open and bleed. "I don't know."

"How do you feel?"

"Confused," I sighed. "I love Dean. He is my soul mate. My husband. The father of my child."

"And then there's tall dark and handsome."

"Sam just... he snuck up on me. Ya know?"

"I do," Lacey said knowingly. "I've seen the way he looks at you. He loves you, kid."

"I know he does," I sighed. "And that makes everything so much more complicated."

"Maybe we should make a pro con list."

I laughed out loud, not trying to come off wrong. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Which sexy brother will Ava end up with. Pro to both is that they're devilishly handsome."

I smiled widely. "Con for both, they're brothers."

"I have an idea," Lacey said, sitting up straighter.

"What?"

"Polygamy, sister. Just have them both."

Now I was the one choking on coffee. "Oh my god no!"

"Prude,” she scoffed. "Fine, back to the drawing board."

————————-

We were out on patrols. Lacey was driving, still trying to get me to make a list of pros and cons. So far it evened out like this:

Sam

Pro- he is very tall, good with babies, abs, he makes me laugh, he can watch endless episodes of How I Met Your Mother without so much as a pee break (maybe he is a superhuman?)

Con- the long hair, he's a younger man, he likes podcasts, he is Dean's brother so if I pick him it'll be awkward.

Dean

Pro- also is tall (but not as tall), Nel's Dad, also has abs, first person I loved, gives me butterflies.

Con- he may have scars from war (mental), I finally moved on from him, he likes cowboys and while it's charming no one should own a bolo tie, let alone multiple.

These were her lists, not mine. My feet were on the dash in the squad car as I looked at the page. "They're pretty even, but I still don't think any of these are valid reasons to be with either of them."

"That's because we haven't even began to talk about the sex," Lacey said, glancing at me from under her sunglasses.

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"Come on, Ava, I'm dying to hear about it! Let me live vicariously through you."

"Not a chance." I laughed.

My phone rang, and I grabbed it out of my pocket. "Detective Winchester."

"I like the way that sounds," Dean said through the phone.

I grinned widely. "How'd you get my work number?"

"From Sammy. I thought it'd be easier to get ahold of you this way."

"Is everything okay?"

"Well, actually, not really. I just talked to Dad and apparently a lot of hunters are showin up dead. Like real bad, ripped apart, dead."

"Which one?" Lacey mouthed to me.

"Do they have any other connections?"

"No, but Ava, I'm worried. What's stopping whatever this is from coming after us? When can you get home?"

"Shit!" Lacey said, slamming on her breaks. My phone flew out of my hand, bouncing onto the dashboard, my knees slamming into my chest.

“Ow,” I groaned. "The fuck, Lace?"

I moved my legs down, to see why she stopped, and my blood ran cold. In the middle of the road stood Pastor Miles, the young man from my first case with Sam and Dean. His clothes were ripped, with large gashes on his skin. He had dark circles under his eyes. I recognized the gashes, I'd saw them on Dean.

Dean had told me, months later, that we didn't save him. I'd made peace with that, trying my best to save everyone we came into contact with after that. I knew he was dead, but yet there he was, standing in front of the squad car.

"Ava!" I could hear Dean screaming on the line, as the Pastor came closer he was frowning, deep wrinkles on his forehead as his eyebrows came together. He looked so much older than early twenties. His eyes were almost glowing red from the anger that was pulsing off of him.

"Dean! If you can hear me, I think we have a problem!" I looked to Lacey. "If you trust me then drive. Now!"

Lacey put the car in gear without questioning it and sped away.

"Go to my house!" I instructed.

"You owe me an explanation, Winchester." She hissed as she turned down the road toward my place.

What the hell is going on?

We pulled up to the house, and I jumped out of the car. My legs and chest were aching from the immediate stop. I groaned and jogged up to the house, pushing through the front door. "Hey," I said, panting.

"You're okay, thank god," Dean said, pulling me into his arms. I'm adding, gives good hugs to the pro column. "I heard all the screaming, and then the line went dead."

"I saw Pastor Miles," I said looking up at him.

"Shit."

The front door swung open again and Sam stood, his eyes wide in alarm. "Guys, we have a problem."

"No kidding," I said, still breathing heavily.

"I just saw Jess, but she wasn't Jess."

We looked between us. What the fuck? "Have a seat, I'll get us some coffee, and we will figure this out."

"Make mine Irish," Dean said with a grunt.

"By the way, uh, Dean this is Lacey," I said, almost forgetting she was there. "She is my partner at the precinct."

"I'm the husband,” he said, saluting her.

Laceys hand went to her chest in a very Victorian way. "Nice to meet you."

"Hey Lace can you meet me in the kitchen?"

"Sure." She shrugged, walking into the kitchen.

"You brought her here?" Sam hissed.

"She was in the car when we almost hit Pastor Miles!"

"What the fuck?" Sam asked, his voice quiet.

"Yeah, so I didn't really have time to think, and I came straight here. Should I ask her to go? He definitely saw her, and he didn't exactly look happy, Sam."

Dean looked to Sam and shrugged. "Ave, do you trust her?"

I glanced at the door to the kitchen. "I haven't known her long, but yeah, I do."

"Then catch her up."

"Okay."

I went into the kitchen, avoiding Sams stares, and started the coffee maker.

"So first of all, you downplayed how hot he is. He looks like a model. Like the kind that works on cars in the magazine pictures. All sweaty and greasy, but somehow still perfect."

I laughed and shook my head. She really hit the nail on the head. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?"

"Um, yeah!"

I poured her a cup of coffee.

"Seriously, though, what was all of that?" She asked as she blew the steam off her cup.

"You may want to sit down."

She raised her eyebrows, but didn't move. "Go on."

"Okay, this is going to sound crazy," I said with a sigh. "But Sam, Dean, and I... we hunt things. Monsters, ghosts, demons. They're real. That man in the road... he is a man I tried to save over a year ago, but he died."

Lacey looked down at her cup of coffee. "Are you fucking with me?"

"No." I stared at her waiting for her to laugh, or to run.

"Okay."

"Okay?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "That's it?"

Lacey shrugged. "Yup. I believe you. Maybe you're crazy, but I figure if you aren't... then you can keep me from getting killed. One step at a time." She grinned. "Plus, you still need my help figuring out which Winchester you're going to be with."

I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "Thank you. Thank you for believing me."

Lacey shrugged and picked up her cup. "It's no thing. Come on, the handsome twins are waiting for us."

I poured two more cups of coffee, and added a shot of Jameson to Dean's before going back into the living room.

"So what do we think we are dealing with here?" I asked them, noticing Bobby had joined the group.

He was holding open a book, and looking intently at us. "It's the rise of the witnesses."

"Which means?"

Dean looked at me solemnly. "It means that we are epically screwed."

—————

Chapter Sixteen, Give Me These Moments Back

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[aranciafiamma]

The Demon Wears Neon

My Holiday Gift for @teatimeunicorpia​ for @mp100ficrec gift exchange!

Prompt:  High Fashion AU starring designer Teru

Ship: None, Kageyama Mob & Hanazawa Teruki

Summary:  Mob has been set a challenge by his parents. He needs to learn how to live on his own. Which means find a place, find a job, and then keep the job. That sounds easy enough. (No Powers AU) -Inspired by the Devil Wears Prada and Princess Jellyfish

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Stylish. Chic. Desperately trying to be bougie. Looks like the backstage of a runway, with employees that just stepped away from a photoshoot.

SHIGEO KAGEYAMA, 22, stradles the line between homely and homeless. He appears so unremarkable that he goes by a second name, MOB.

Mob loiters in front of the entrance. He looks up at the big, lit up sign and then at the job opening flyer posted on the door. He peers inside for the nth time.

The contrast between the sharply-heeled, precise-cut outfitted clerks and himself is apparent. Comparable to the way a multi-million, downtown condo contrasts an abandoned cottage in the woods. He sighs.

MOB There's no way...

He shifts his gaze down.

A shot of his scuffed-up sneakers on the concrete sidewalk.

INT. KAGEYAMA HOUSE - EVENING

Two weeks ago.

A shot of the same scuffed-up sneakers but on the laminated floor of a genkan. Shot pans up.

MRS. KAGEYAMA, middle-aged with a no nonsense look that can only be cultivated by raising two boys. She stands in front of Mob, hands on her hips.

Mob just got home, looking like he went out for a run. He's in a pair of sweatpants with a white T-shirt damp from sweat.

MOB Oh. I'm ho-

MRS. KAGEYAMA Are you doing anything tomorrow?

MOB No? I don't-

MRS. KAGEYAMA What about the next week? Or the next month? Or the next year? Do you have any plans at all?

MOB Um...

Mrs. Kageyama drags a hand down her face.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige. You're a grown man now. It's time you learned how to live on your own. Just look at Ritsu! Gone off to college!

MOB But you agreed college wasn't for me.

MRS. KAGEYAMA I did. That doesn't mean I wanted you to just hang around the house. You're not even working! You know, your father and I won't be here forever. We can't keep waiting for you to get moving.

MOB What does that mean?

MRS. KAGEYAMA We agreed to provide you with one month's rent. Just to get you started. Find yourself a place. Find yourself a job. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. You could work at a 7/11. I just -

Mrs. Kageyama sighs. Every year of her age seems to catch up in a single second. She looks tired and worn out, like a beloved blanket washed too many times.

MRS. KAGEYAMA We just need to know that you're going to be okay...

Mob looks down at his feet. Silence for an extended pause.

MOB That's one month?

MRS. KAGEYAMA Yes. Plenty of time, don't you think?

A front shot of Mob's face, focus on his eyes - a flat, dead-fish looking stare.

MOB Yeah... Yeah, okay.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Same shot of Mob's eyes.

MOB This is a bad idea.

TERU Blocking the door tends to be.

A full shot. Mob jumps and whips around to see TERUKI HANAZAWA, 23, the human personification of LMFAO's "Sexy and I Know It". His personal style is disco night meets black light parties - a lot of sequins, a lot of neon. 

He peers over his bedazzled, heart-shaped sunglasses, giving Mob a once over. He is not impressed with what he sees.

TERU Well?

Mob blinks at him.

TERU (clicks tongue) Get out of the way.

Mob scrambles off to the side. Teru flounces in, his many shopping bags hit Mob on the way. Stunned, Mob dazedly follows him inside.

There's an uproar as all the store clerks swarm Teru. They take his bags, asking rapid fire questions, presenting him with products. Mob watches, swept off to the side.

ARATAKA REIGEN, 36, like a car salesman but fashionable. He strides through the crowd, holding up two belts.

REIGEN There you are, Teruki. I'm planning to change the window display. Help me pick a belt.

Both belts are teal, wide, and flat but with different buckles and base materials. To the casual onlooker, the belts appear identical.

MOB Aren't those the same belts?

A pause. All the store clerks and Reigen look at him. Mob becomes a living statue - maybe not even living - a soon to expire statue.

Slowly, dramatically, Teru turns to face Mob.

TERU Oh. The boy masquerading as a door mat.

Mob draws up his shoulders, a turtle ducking into his shell.

MOB I... There was...

He points at the job opportunity flyer. Teru frowns.

TERU I knew that flyer was a bd idea. It invites all kinds of riff raff.

MOB Puh- Please. Two weeks. Rent due. I need - That is, I can... Please.

Reigen sighs and lightly nudges Teru.

REIGEN Listen kid. We need more help. I'm sure with the right training-

Teru glances at Reigen, glances back at Mob, then gives Reigen a look that could dry up the seas in second.

TERU We aren't running a charity here. Our job candidates should at least start from rock bottom, not the inner depths of the Earth's crust.

MOB I can work very hard! An - And I can follow orders! I'll do my best to learn!

REIGEN Oh give him a chance. He can work in the back, doing inventory. No one has to see him. We really need the extra help.

TERU I heard you the first time.

REIGEN Did you.

Reigen and Teru lock eyes. A tense moment.

TERU Alright! Fine. We can take him on. Temporarily. If he messes up my shop, it's on your head.

MOB ... Wait. This is your shop?

Teru and Reigen stare blankly at him. A beat. Teru turns to Reigen with a grin that could put a laughing Buddha to shame.

TERU Good luck, Arataka. You are going to need it.

Teru walks away with a dramatic spin on his heel. His staff follow after him like particularly noisy chickadees - chirping out new questions and suggestions.

Reigen and Mob both watch them go. A pause. Reigen looks over to find Mob preoccupied with a nearby sweater. His fingers run over the smooth cashmere in a repetitive rhythm.

REIGEN (clears throat) Alright, kid. I just stuck my neck out for you. Don't let me down.

Mob blinks. His eyes got that thousand yard stare. Reigen's brow twitches.

REIGEN Geez. You really make a guy feel confident about his choices. What's your name?

MOB Shigeo Kageyama. My friends call me Mob.

REIGEN Like a mob boss?

MOB Like a mob character.

REIGEN .... Right. I'm Arataka Reigen.

Mob nods. A long, stretched out pause. They stare at each other.

MOB Oh. Thank you. And please excuse me but, why did you do that?

REIGEN What? Help you out? Listen, a new stock of our famous Jellyfish couture just came in. It's a massive order. I could either go crazy doing it by myself OR we could hire you to give me a hand. Now come on.

Reigen walks away, beckons Mob to follow. Mob stays put.

MOB We're starting now?

Reigen doesn't even pause or glance back.

REIGEN Why? You got other stuff to do?

Mob stumbles after him, trying to catch up.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

Messy, cluttered, obviously occupied by more than one twenty something. Anime merch scattered on every surface. Sci-fi posters plastered on the walls. A roach sets out from the Take Out Box street and visits its cousin in Candy Wrapper lane.

TOME KURATA, 24, self-identifies as a cryptid but actually she's just a NEET. She's camped out on the living room floor, playing a console game.

Mob enters. He looks like the patient of a medieval doctor - as in someone stuck a bunch of leeches on him and now he's nothing more than a husk of a human being.

TOME Ossu! How'd the job hunting go?

MOB ... I got one.

Tome pauses her game and faces him.

TOME Nice! Did you - Woah! What happened to you?

Mob doesn't answer. He shuffles over to the couch and faceplants on it. He is dead now.

Fade to black.

TOME Mob? Oi, Mob! Mobbu-kun!

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - AFTERNOON

Two weeks ago.

Blackout.

TOME Mob?

Fade in. An unimpressed Tome stands with her arms crossed. She looks Mob up and down.

TOME What kind of name is that?

Full shot. MAMETA INUKAWA, 22, vaguely resembles a Shiba Inu. He's standing next to Mob, a hand clapped on his shoulder. They're both facing Tome.

INUKAWA Oh it's just something we liked to call him.

MOB My name is Shigeo Kageyama. It's pleasure to meet you.

TOME Huh. I'm Tome Kurata.

MOB Oh. That's my grandmother's name.

TOME Neat. So. Our last roommate fucked off without paying in advance. We're really in a bind here. I'm not even asking for the full payment just half.

MOB Yes. I can pay. But I need a room.

TOME Pfft! If you keep paying, you keep staying. Just don't murder us all in our sleep. And for the love of all things holy, wash your fucking dishes after you eat. That's all.

MOB I can manage that.

TOME Excellent. Welcome to the Cryptid Den, Mob-kun.

MOB Uh... Cryptid?

INUKAWA Because we're all hopeless shut-ins who barely scrape by on night-shift part-time work. So, seeing us is like sighting a cryptid - you know, Big Foot, Nessie...

TOME BZT! Wrong! We're cryptids because we all have a mysterious allure!

INUKAWA Oh. I thought that was just the smell from your unwashed bras.

Tome shrieks wordlessly and flails at him.

A torso shot of Mob, standing in front of the door.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

The same shot of Mob, sitting at the dining table. The rest of his roommates have trudged out of their self-imposed isolation. They're eating take-out sushi.

SARUTA SHIRIHIKO, 22, big, broad, and butt-chinned. He casually steals sushi from Inukawa's plate. HARUTO KIJIBAYASHI, 24, always looks stressed out but it's just his resting face. He laughs as Inukawa thumps Shirihiko.

Mob focuses on carefully dipping a roll into soy sauce.

Tome walks in, carrying a pack of beer. She thumps it on the table before taking a seat.

TOME Right, boys. I don't have to remind you. But I'm still gonna so don't you give me any excuses later. Rent is due in two weeks. That is 14 days. Got it? Mob, you listening?

Mob lifts his head. His roll slips from his chopsticks and splashes soy sauce on him. He flinches and reaches for a napkin. He pats himself down.

A pause. Everyone is waiting for him to respond. Distantly, the front door can be heard opening.

RITSU KAGEYAMA, 21, a Hot Mess pretending to be the Cool Guy. He walks in.

Tome clears her throat. Mob returns his attention to her.

MOB Ah. Yes. I heard. I can pay on time. I have a job now.

RITSU Really, Nii-san? Congratulations!

Ritsu grabs a beer and takes a seat next to Mob. Tome eyes him.

TOME Oi, Kageyama. If you keep coming around here, and I'll start charging you for rent.

RITSU Please, Kurata-san. I am a poor college student. I don't have a penny to my name.

INUKAWA What's the job? Where at?

MOB So far it's been managing inventory. At some place called Teru.

KIJIBAYASHI Whoa. Wait. Teru?

RITSU Do you like it?

MOB Mmmm... I have a lot to learn. It's very tiring.

TOME Yeah. You looked half-dead when you got in today.

Ritsu frowns, gripping his beer can hard enough to dent.

RITSU Well. Don't work too hard.

MOB I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me.

RITSU Just promise me if you get too stressed out-

KIJIBAYASHI I can't believe you're working at Teru!

INUKAWA Why is that such a big deal?

KIJIBAYASHI It's like super popular! The store owner is supposedly some kinda fashion prodigy.

SHIRIHIKO And how do you know this?

KIJIBAYASHI My girlfriend. She's all about this kinda stuff.

TOME Hold up! When the hell did you get a girlfriend?

The rest give Kijibayashi hell. Ritsu turns his attention to Mob.

RITSU If it gets too much, you can always quit.

MOB I know. But I really do need money.

RITSU I can talk to Mom. I can convince her to let you come home. You don't need to put yourself through this.

MOB Mom's busy taking care of Dad. He's still on medical leave, you know?

RITSU Still?

MOB ... I want to do my best.

Ritsu scowls and takes an angry sip of his beer.

Tome has moved to throwing pizza crusts at Kijibayashi and Shirihiko. Inukawa is in tears from laughing.

RITSU If you need anything-

MOB Ritsu. It's fine. (beat) And you need to stop checking up on me. I know you're busy with college.

RITSU (sighs) Okay, Nii-san. Okay.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Mob enters. The boutique is in a frenzy. Store clerks run about blindly. Teru is at the center of all the mayhem. He's fixing up a mannequin, paying little attention to the panic.

TSUYOSHI EDANO, 24, stuck in his "high school punk" phase but now in a suit. He stands next to Teru, taking notes.

TERU Details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Simone I'm not going to approve that girl she sent me. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling. She sent me dirty, tired, and paunchy.

Reigen appears next to Mob. He grabs his arm. Mob jumps.

REIGEN You're late!

MOB I... But... You told me to come at 8am. It's 8am.

REIGEN Clearly I meant to come 15 minutes earlier. That's how it works around here.

Reigen pulls Mob through the store. Mob watches the store clerks rush around.

MOB Is it always like this?

REIGEN Just the Teru effect. But he's in fine form today. The shop isn't even open yet and he's already sent someone crying.

Mob blinks, slightly frowning.

REIGEN I wouldn't worry about it. Your job is out of his way. Unlike mines.

MOB If you don't mind me asking, what is your job?

REIGEN Mostly I handle the daily operations of the shop. But I'm also the event planner. Teruki puts on fashion shows, you see. It's what all those fancy brands - Gucci, Prada, Versace - they all do it. And that kid, well he believes himself on par with them. So of course whatever they do, he will too. Never mind that they've got more resources and reach. So he's just stressing himself out for not much pay off. And of course, us underlings get the brunt of his freak outs - I'm ranting, aren't I? Don't mind me, kid.

MOB I wasn't. I didn't get... any of that.

They enter the backroom. It looks like the kind of place where simple joys die slow, drawn out deaths. No windows. Buzzing, overhead lights. A small mountain of unopened boxes next to a second door. Rows and rows of shelves and racks, most empty. Not a lot of breathing room.

Reigen glances over at Mob.

REIGEN Mob, right? Just do as I say and we should get along fine.

Mob stares at Reigen.

REIGEN Think you can do that?

MOB Oh. Yes.

REIGEN Good. Now, where did I leave off yesterday...

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MONTAGE

Mob hard at work. He's carrying a huge box. He can't see where he's going. He bumps into a store clerk who stumbles back, knocking over a set of mannequins. There's a deafening crash. Reigen comes running over.

REIGEN Mob!

Reigen carefully jotting down the inventory. He double checks to make sure they received everything. Behind him, Mob unpacks a few boxes. He pauses for a moment, wiping his brow. He notices an electric fan in the corner - it's huge, industrial sized. He switches it open. The sudden breeze sends all of Reigen's files flying.

REIGEN Mob!!

Mob walks in, carrying a tray of tea. He trips over his feet and sends the drinks flying, headed right for the unwrapped stock of very expensive cashmere skirts. Reigen yells and makes a mad dash. In slow motion - like watching a hardened soldier take a bullet for a fallen comrade - Reigen steps in and shields the skirts from the tea splash.

MOB ... Oops.

Reigen now dripping wet.

REIGEN MOB!!!

EXT. BACK ALLEY - AFTERNOON

A cramped area behind the boutique. Largely bare. Only a recycling bin full of flattened boxes, a mostly empty trash bin, and Mob.

He squats next to the door. He picks at a store-bought bento.

MOB (sighs) Man. I suck at this.

Door swings violently open. It knocks into Mob, upturning his bento and spilling the food all over him.

Teru enters.

MOB ... Ow.

Teru glances over and sees him.

TERU You know, if I had wanted a doormat, I could have bought a perfectly serviceable one at a department store. It would have been better looking too.

Mob focuses on brushing the food off him.

TERU Hello? I'm talking to you.

Mob slowly lifts his head and turns to Teru.

TERU Are you deaf?

MOB No.

TERU Then why didn't you say anything?

MOB Was I supposed to?

TERU Sorry would be a good start.

MOB But... You're the one that hit me... With the door...

Teru turns away from him. He pulls out his phone and a cigarette. He starts a call, puffing out smoke.

Mob gets up, throws away his bento, and enters the boutique.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - AFTERNOON

Mob walks into the backroom. Reigen is using a box for a desk, scribbling fast. He sees Mob and turns to him.

REIGEN Whoa. Did you eat lunch or did lunch eat you?

MOB I-

REIGEN Yeah, yeah. Listen. Kid. This isn't gonna work.

MOB What won't?

REIGEN You are just constantly in the way. I can't believe you've stayed on. You're clearly not cut out for this. You should quit.

A pause. Mob shakes his head slowly. He scratches at his arm.

MOB ... No.

Another pause, drawn out. Reigen studies him.

REIGEN This is a fashion boutique. Employees should have an interest in fashion. Which you don't.

MOB I can learn.

REIGEN Who's going to teach you? Because I just don't have the time.

Mob scratches his arm faster.

MOB Give me - Give me one more chance. I need to work. I can't - Mom and Dad - tired of disappointing.

A pause.

Teru enters with his usual dramatic flair.

TERU Reigen, I need coffee.

REIGEN I'm busy, brat.

TERU Then get your little errand boy to do it. Isn't that why we hired him?

Mob stops scratching his arm. He balls his hands into fists.

MOB I can do it!

TERU You don't have a choice. I want a triple grande caramel macchiato in a venti cup, 1/2 whole milk, 1/2 almond milk, a splash of soy, double the amount of vanilla syrup, caramel wall in the cup, extra whip. Understood?

Mob did not understand.

MOB Y-Yes.

TERU Then what are you standing around for? Go!

INT. STARBUCKS - AFTERNOON

No place special. Just somewhere to get the usual caffeine fix.

Mob stands at the counter. A hand furiously scratches at his arm. He stares at the menu. Seen from his point of view, the menu starts to blur into an unreadable mess.

ICHI MEZATO, 22, the love child of Sherlock Holmes and Lois Lane. She mans the register, eyeing Mob. A line is forming behind him.

MEZATO Hey! I know you! Don't you work at Teru?

Mob jumps. He stops scratching.

MOB Ho-How did you know?

MEZATO I stopped by this morning and saw you knock a store clerk into those mannequins. Man, that was funny. Lemme guess. You're here for the bossman.

Mob nods.

MEZATO I gotchu. He always gets the same thing. I've memorized the order by now.

MOB That's... convenient.

MEZATO Hey, don't question your luck. It seems like a stressful place to work at. You're gonna need all the help.

MOB Thank you...

Mob squints at her name tag.

MOB Mezato-san?

MEZATO That will be 400 yen.

Mob freezes.

MEZATO ... He didn't give you money, did he?

Mob mournfully pulls out his wallet, sighing.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - EVENING

Mob enters. Teru dashes over. Reigen stays standing at the register. He watches them.

TERU Finally! What took you so long? I thought you died or something!

MOB Please excuse me.

Mob hands the coffee to Teru. He eyes the cup suspiciously before taking a sip.

TERU Hmph. I suppose that will do.

Teru turns around and flounces away. Reigen walks up to Mob.

REIGEN That brat always orders the most elaborate stuff. I'm surprised you managed it. So you can follow instructions, huh?

MOB Yes.

REIGEN Alright. I can give you one more shot at this. But if you mess up, that's it.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

Mob and Ritsu sit on the couch. Tome and Inukawa play some sort of dancing game. They are both obviously out of shape.

RITSU How's work?

MOB It's going okay.

RITSU Not too stressful?

A pause. Mob keeps his eyes on the game. Ritsu watches him.

MOB I'm handling it.

Ritsu says nothing.

A beat. Mob yawns. He stretches and the sleeves slip down. His arms have raw-red scratch marks. Ritsu grabs Mob.

RITSU What is this?

MOB Don't worry about it.

RITSU Nii-san! This job is obviously awful. Please quit. I can loan you some money. You don't need -

MOB I need to be treated like a grown up. I'm the older brother. I should be taking care of you not...

RITSU I don't need to be taken care of.

MOB Then at least let me take care of myself. I'm not quitting.

RITSU But-

MOB Drop it, Ritsu.

Tome and Inukawa finally collapse from overexertion.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

A week later.

Mob and Reigen are in one of the dressing rooms. Reigen is carefully outfitting Mob with some of the store's best-sellers.

MOB Um... Reigen-san.

Reigen buttons up a smart-looking vest. It's very tight. Mob scratches at the seams. His posture has gotten very tense.

REIGEN What, Mob?

MOB Do you really think I'm ready to work at the front?

REIGEN Nope. But if you stay working in the back with me, I might just go completely insane.

Mob deflates.

REIGEN I'm just kidding. You've really gotten better.

Reigen winds a tie around his neck. Mob squirms, trying to loosen it. Reigen knocks his hand away.

REIGEN Stop that.

MOB Is all this stuff really necessary?

REIGEN Unfortunately. Teruki doesn't let anyone on the floor unless they're looking runway ready. It's part of the hashtag-aesthetic.

MOB I don't know what that means.

REIGEN Same, kid.

Reigen claps Mob on the shoulders. He spins him around to face the mirror.

A full shot of his reflection. It's still Mob, with his bland-looking face and his severe-looking haircut. But his clothes are well-fitted and the dark colors complement his skin tone. He looks... well, pretty nice actually. Mob puffs up, smiling a bit

REIGEN There, now. All you gotta do is keep the racks stocked and the shelves organized. We're not throwing you behind the register or anything. So don't worry. But you should be familiar with what we carry. Right?

MOB Um...

REIGEN Say yes.

MOB Yes.

REIGEN Good. Now get out there.

Reigen shoves Mob out of the dressing room. There's a cart full of stock waiting for him. He blinks and stares at it.

REIGEN Take that to the front. You can figure out where to put it all.

Mob jumps and jerks into action. His movements are stiff, almost robotic. He wheels the cart into the crowded sales floor. Store clerks are buzzing about, flitting from customer to customer.

Mob watches them all and idly tugs at his tie, scratching his neck. He nearly crashes into a customer.

CUSTOMER Hey! Watch it!

MOB Sorry - Excuse me!

Mob hastily drags the cart over to a corner, breathing fast and hard. Both hands reach up to his neck, digging his nails in and scratching hard - leaving the skin an angry red.

A pause. Mob inhales deeply and faces the sales floor again. He looks at the cart then at the racks and starts heading out.

The chatter of the customers and clerks steadily grow louder. Mob scratches at the seams of his vest. He rocks on his heels as he hangs up some of the stock.

A store clerk passes by, casually re-applying perfume. Mob doubles over, clapping a hand over his nose and mouth.

A pulse can be heard - it's Mob. At first, just a steady beat hidden under all the noise. But slowly deafens everything else. Close up on the customers lips - smiling and talking away. Close up on the display lights, blindingly bright and everywhere. Close up on the vest's material, the starchy woven fabric embroidered with gold thread.

A full shot of Mob. He appears completely frozen. The cart is off to the side, abandoned.

A customer approaches.

CUSTOMER Hey, excuse me. But I'm looking for a cashmere skirt. It's part of your fall line, I think. Could you help me?

A hand reaches out and gently nudges Mob's shoulder. Mob flinches away - as if electrocuted. He slaps away the hand and snarls at the customer. He looks ready to go apeshit.

A beat.

CUSTOMER Um. What the he-

Mob dashes away. He tugs off the tie, flinging it away. It hits Reigen, dealing with a customer nearby. He turns.

REIGEN Ow! Hey, who threw tha - Mob?

Mob exits the sales floor.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - NIGHT

Five weeks ago.

Whitewashed walls, sterile-tiled floors. Buzzing flourescent lights. A crossbreed between a lab and a holding cell.

Mob is curled up on a chair. He scratches his ears. Mrs. Kageyama paces, wringing her hands. Ritsu enters, dashing in.

RITSU How is he?

Mrs. Kageyama stops pacing.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Oh, Ritsu! You didn't need to come all this way!

RITSU Didn't?! Dad just had a stroke! How can you -

A pause. Ritsu breathes in deeply. He looks over at Mob. He approaches cautiously.

RITSU Hey, Nii-san. You okay?

Mob doesn't answer. He doesn't even glance at Ritsu.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Oh don't bother him. When your father collapsed, I thought to faint myself. Must've seemed worse for Shige.

RITSU And is Dad...?

A pause. Mrs. Kageyama slowly shakes her head. A sob bursts out. Ritsu rushes over and drapes an arm around her.

Close up on Mob. Mrs. Kageyama can be heard crying in the background. He squeezes his eyes shut, gripping his knees hard.

INT. KAGEYAMA HOUSE - EVENING

Three weeks ago.

Mob stands at the entry way. He's dressed in a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt.

MR. KAGEYAMA, middle aged, stooped over from years of hard work and a very recent hospitalization. He is escorted in by Ritsu. They pass by Mob.

MR. KAGEYAMA I can walk just fine. You're making me feel old, son.

RITSU You are old, Dad.

MR. KAGEYAMA Yes. But you shouldn't say it.

Mob watches them disappear into the kitchen. Mrs. Kageyama enters, stuffing her wallet into her purse.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige, if you've got time to be gawking, then you should be setting out the plates for dinner. You did order the take-out like I asked, did-

Mob pushes past her, kicking off his slippers and shoving on his sneakers.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige? What - You're going out? Now?

Mob remains silent. His expression is the most serious seen. He dashes out the door.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige!

EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS

Empty. Rows of unlit houses cage in the lane. The sky is a heartbreaking purple.

Mob runs. He runs and he runs and he runs. His face is a rictus of pain as he draws sharp, short breaths. He stumbles a little but quickly regains his footing. He keeps running.

A shot of a streetlight, flickering on.

EXT. BACK ALLEY - EVENING

Close up on a streetlight.

Pan out. Mob leans against the wall.

He's pulling off the vest, rocking on his heels. His breathing is fast and short. He frantically scratches everywhere.

Reigen enters. He's got the tie hooked around a finger. He watches Mob.

REIGEN I'm guessing you didn't like the fit?

Mob doesn't answer. He's crumpled up the vest in his hands, squeezing tightly. Reigen winces.

A long drawn out pause.

REIGEN So. How long are you gonna stay out here?

Mob stops scratching.

REIGEN Just ran out the door. Honestly. You scared a customer.

Mob slowly turns to Reigen.

REIGEN You're really bad at this. Dunno why you stick around. It's not a good fit for you.

Mob blinks.

REIGEN ... Just finish out the rest of this week. Then, you can get paid and go.

Mob shakes his head. He turns to face the wall, inhales deeply. A beat.

MOB I want to work. I can. I have to. I'm - I want to stop running.

REIGEN Okay... Why...?

MOB Be-Because I need to prove I can.

REIGEN To who?

MOB To myself. That I can grow. And I'm going to be fine. And if I - if I just work hard enough...

A pause. Reigen hisses out a breath.

REIGEN Right. Well you don't need to kill yourself in the process. Look, you've scratched your neck into bleeding.

MOB Happens. Been trying not to scratch so much.

REIGEN Okay. So how about this. Let's go back to managing the inventory for a bit. And then... Well, if you still really want to, we can ease you into the front.

MOB But wasn't this the easy job?

REIGEN Then I guess we'll have to make it easier.

A pause. Reigen studies Mob.

REIGEN Are you absolutely sure? You don't have to. You can get a job that isn't retail.

Mob doesn't answer. Again he faces the wall and holds his hands, trying not to scratch.

MOB My parents. They never... When they first found out I had autism, they never treated it like a big deal. They just went - "Ah, okay." They never stopped me from doing what I wanted to do. (beat) They honestly believe in me. That I can take care of myself. I want to - I want to believe it too.

Then Mob glances at Reigen and smiles.

MOB And. You know. Not a lot of options for part-timers with no work experience. I can do this.

Reigen barks out a laugh, shaking his head. He spins the tie around his finger.

REIGEN Then let's get started.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - EVENING

Two days later.

The boutique is closed. The store clerks have fled. Reigen and Teru argue loudly. They stand by the registers. A cup of coffee on the counter.

Mob enters, carrying several shopping bags.

TERU I don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment!

REIGEN But I did confirm last night!

Teru notices Mob at the door.

TERU Who are you? The store is closed! Can't you see the sign?

MOB Oh but -

REIGEN He works with me, remember? Helps out in the stock room? I just sent him to pick up some scarves for your little fashion show.

TERU And it took him this long to come back? What happened? Did he get into an accident?

MOB I got lost.

TERU You got lost. He got lost. Okay you know what. Get out. I already sent everyone home but you - you won't be returning.

MOB ... What does that -

REIGEN Hey, don't pick on him! He's trying his best!

TERU His best clearly isn't good enough. I expect nothing short excellence.

Teru gifts Reigen with a sneer that threatened to melt the flesh from his face.

TERU And there's seems to be a shortage of that around here!

A pause. Reigen shakes his head.

REIGEN That's it. I'm done. Come find me when you're finished throwing your tantrum.

TERU Find you? I'm firing you!

REIGEN Is that right?

TERU I'm the boss around here! Seems like you forgot!

REIGEN Just never figured you to be an idiot. Stupid sometimes sure. But not an idiot. Have fun trying to figure everything without me!

TERU Fine!

REIGEN Fine!

Reigen storms out, exiting through the backroom.

A pause. Teru sees Mob watching.

TERU And what are you looking at? Huh? Yet another mistake of his. Didn't I tell you to leave? You're fired too.

MOB That was mean. He was only trying to help.

TERU Didn't you hear me? You're fired.

MOB I heard you. And... And I don't care. All Reigen-san has ever done is help you. He works overtime trying to put together your fashion show. But you just keep yelling at him. That's not right.

TERU Who are you to lecture me? Get out!

MOB You go around yelling at people and for what? Why do that? It doesn't actually help anything except maybe make you feel better. That's not - You can't just lash out.

TERU Watch me.

Teru picks up the coffee and flings it at Mob. He ducks. The coffee splashes across the front doors.

MOB Hey! That's dangerous! You'll ruin the clothes!

TERU Those are my clothes! And I'll ruin all of it if I please!

Teru pulls out a pair of scissors from the counter. He picks up a skirt and proceeds to cut it into pieces.

TERU You think you're better than me. Is that it? Is that why you keep lecturing me? As if I'm some poor, retarded child.

Mob balls his hands into fists.

MOB That's enough.

Teru picks up shirt and slices it into ribbons.

TERU When really, between the two of us, whose the real retard here? Hmm?

MOB Shut up.

TERU You think I didn't know? Please. I know everything that goes on inside my little shop. You almost lost me a customer.

MOB I said shut up.

TERU If I wasn't so busy, I would have fired you earlier.

Mob screams. He throws the shopping bags at Teru. Some fall halfway. Some miss. But one hits Teru right in the face.

A pause. Teru turns to Mob, a truly ugly grimace on his face.

TERU You!

Teru grips the scissors like a knife and lunges at Mob. He jerks back, hands catching Teru's. There's a struggle for dominance. Snip.

Snip?

Both freeze. They eye as a huge chunk of Teru's hair falls between them.

A long pause.

Teru lets out a heart-wrenching wail. He drops the scissors. Hands reach up, clutching at his now very uneven hair do.

MOB ... I'm sorry...

Teru falls to the floor. He curls up into a ball, shivering.

TERU It's over. I'm ruined. I'm done. Finished. A washed-up has-been.

MOB You can still fix it. Just even it out. Maybe.

Teru finally lifts his head. Tears and snot stream down his blotchy-red face.

TERU You don't get it! How could you? Living your dull, ugly life.

MOB You're not much better looking.

A pause. Teru blinks at him.

TERU Excuse me?

MOB You look the same as everyone else. To me, at least. It's good that you wear all those neon clothes. Or else I wouldn't know it was you.

A beat. Teru starts laughing. He laughs long and hard. The laughter turns into soft sobbing. Mob watches, unsure what to do.

TERU You're face blind? Of course you are. What is a god to a nonbeliever?

MOB ... Should I call an ambulance? Are you... okay?

TERU No, I am not. I've been arranging this stupid fashion show, when I don't have anything to show. I try and I try to design. But nothing comes. Hey, what do you think I'm doing wrong?

A pause.

TERU Look at me. Asking help from a -

MOB I can't wear any of your clothes. And I always thought it was a bit unfair... If only certain people can wear your clothes and others can't.

TERU That's just how the world works. It caters only to the special ones - those gifted with beauty and talent. Like moi.

MOB I don't know who moi is, but they can't be very special. And if you're just following what the world does... Then aren't you just like everyone else?

Another pause. Longer this time, softer. Teru looks at Mob, really looks at him.

TERU ... I'm sorry I called you... Well, you know what I called you.

MOB Yes. I'm still angry about that.

TERU Right. As you should be. I would like to... I don't mean to sound presumptive, but I'd like to earn your forgiveness - if I may!

MOB ... How?

TERU Well, first. You're definitely not fired.

MOB And Reigen-san?

TERU He isn't either. In fact, I'm giving you two some very important jobs.

Mob eyes Teru warily.

INT. CAFE - AFTERNOON

A popular hangout for college kids. Mismatched decor, worn out furniture, posters for open mic night. Currently crowded.

Teru and Ritsu sit together.

TERU Model for me, mon chéri.

RITSU I’m sorry. You want my brother to... what?

TERU Really. It's that simple.

RITSU ... And we are talking about my brother, right? Kageyama Shigeo?

TERU Do you have any more brothers?

RITSU Look... I... Can you just explain? Why him?

TERU Why is this so unbelievable? Do you not think he can be a model?

Ritsu flinches as if struck.

RITSU That’s-

TERU Well, if you really don’t understand.

RITSU Okay, you know what-

TERU I've worked with many top-class models. As I'm sure you know.

RITSU I didn't, actu-

TERU I'm used to certain standards of beauty. And your brother... failed to meet any.

RITSU So why -

TERU And I admit, upon first glance, I practically dozed off with how utterly dull he looks.

RITSU Hey now -

TERU But then! Oh but then! My eyes were opened! I was enlightened! Your brother has a certain... Mmmm... Je ne sais quoi...

Ritsu thumps his fist on the table.

RITSU Enough with the French! I get it! You're very cultured!

TERU Oh grazie.

Ritsu gifts him with a stare that could peel paint. Teru replies with a smile that could withstand a nuclear meltdown.

RITSU Alright, listen Hanazawa. I watch my brother very carefully. And ever since he started working with you, he's been more stressed out than ever. He's scratched himself hard enough to scar.

TERU I've been told that he's gotten better at that.

RITSU He shouldn't be working at your place. You need to fire him.

Teru studies Ritsu.

TERU ... You approached me to say this? Shouldn't you be convincing your brother to quit? Wouldn't that be easier?

RITSU Don't you think I've tried? He won't budge.

TERU Then why should I fire him? He's willing.

RITSU But he's not able! Surely you've noticed by now. My brother has... special needs.

A pause.

TERU I think your brother is perfectly capable of assessing his own limits.

RITSU And I think you just want to use him for your little scheme.

Teru's smile widens. He gets to his feet.

TERU Oh please, mon frére. None of my schemes have ever been little.

Teru exits.

Ritsu grits his teeth. Close up on his pained expression.

EXT. STREET - AFTERNOON

12 years ago.

Same shot of Ritsu's pained expression, now a 9 year old kid. He's got a cut on his head. It's bleeding profusely. He's watching a 10 year old Mob, currently in the middle of a meltdown.

RITSU Nii-san... Stop...

Mob is throwing rocks and beer bottles and whatever else he can get his hands on. He is screaming furiously and helplessly.

RITSU Please stop.

A bunch of older middle-school boys flee from him.

RITSU Stop!

Mob drags his hands down his arms. Scratching heavily. He curls into a ball.

A shot of Ritsu, squeezing his eyes shut.

INT. CAFE - AFTERNOON

Close up on Ritsu, eyes squeezed shut. He runs a hand down his face. He breathes out.

A pause.

He looks out the cafe window. He blinks. He sits up.

Pan over. Seen from Ritsu's point of view, Teru exits the cafe and dashes over to Mob, waiting across the street. They walk away together. Mob has his usual blank expression but he nods occassionally.

RITSU Nii-san... What are you up to?

INT. TERU'S WORKSHOP - MONTAGE

Mob and Teru bent over the drafting table. Teru presents some fabric swatches. Mob feels each one, giving feedback. Teru listens very carefully.

A dressform. A shirt mockup pinned to it. Mob attaches a sleeve. He looks back at Teru and gets a thumbs up.

Mob runs his fingers over a swatch of fabric. He takes in the dressform with its mostly assembled outfit. Teru approaches from behind, carrying two cups of tea. Mob accepts his. They both turn to look at the dressform.

Close up on the outfit. It's an elegant piece, made of soft material with no visible seams. It has a low-hemline, with long sleeves and a loose turtleneck collar. A blazer is draped on top and pair of loose, square cut pants. It looks appropriate for the office or a night out.

TERU I think we did a pretty good job.

Mob nods. A pleased smile.

INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING

Chaos. Well-ordered chaos. Models are putting on their clothes, getting their make up done, being fussed over by Reigen. They all start lining up, ready for the runway.

Behind a dressing screen. Only Teru's and Mob's shadows can be seen. Teru is helping Mob put on the outfit they made.

TERU You can back out right now. I don't mind. I've treated you badly and I'd deserve it if you -

MOB I don't care about that. Not right now, at least.

TERU You're right. You're absolutely right. This is all about you. Mob, what do you want?

MOB I want to do this. I can.

TERU You can. You practiced. We did that dress rehearsal. This is your style. Own it.

A pause. Mob's shadow looks at Teru's.

MOB No more running.

TERU No more running. Now we strut.

Reigen rushes over. He's tapping at his watch.

REIGEN Teruki! Showtime!

INT. STAGE - EVENING

It's a packed room. People are seated on 3 sides of the catwalk. Bright lights render them all faceless. Lots of indistinct chatter.

Close up on the Cryptids. They're all seated together. Pan over to Mezato, seated off to the side.

Close up on Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama seated with Ritsu. They have a front row view. Mrs. Kageyama holds onto both her husband's and son's hands.

Teru walks on. Everyone hushes.

TERU Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming tonight. This collection gave me the hardest time. I had an artistic block. And then someone wise - much wiser than me - gave me a push in the right direction. I'd like to say this is my night. But it's not. My collaborator is the true heart and soul of this show. He focused on clothing for those with sensory issues. He forced me to think outside of my usual parameters. And if I am very lucky, I hope to continue working with him for a long, long time. (beat) Now you didn't come here for me to monologue at you. Let's start the show.

Teru steps off the stage. The models start walking out. The music is lively. The clothes are beautiful. Everyone murmurs appreciatively with each new piece. The music changes. The lights dim.

INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING

REIGEN Alright, Mobbu. It's your turn.

Reigen turns around. Mob is out of the shot. But Reigen clearly likes what he sees.

REIGEN Go get 'em, kiddo.

INT. STAGE - EVENING

Mob walks on. He's wearing that elegant outfit. He looks confident. His shoulders are squared. His chin is lifted. He steps with grace and care and just that touch of attitude. At the catwalk's end, he strikes a simple pose - hands loose and free at his sides. His usual neutral expression shifts to allow a small smirk. Then he spins around and walks back down.

The Cryptids cheer wildly. The Kageyamas cheer wildly. The rest of the crowd follow their example. There's roaring applause.

The music quiets. The crowd slowly stops clapping. Teru retakes the stage.

TERU Please give it up for my excellent collaborator! Shigeo Kageyama!

A beat. The crowd claps. No one comes out. Teru glances over his shoulder.

Mob gets visibly pushed back on stage. He almost stumbles but manages to hide it by taking a wide step. He repeats his walk down to Teru, no less confident. A wide grin now obvious on his face.

The two face the crowd. They bow. Cheers fill the room.

THE END.