#i’ve started putting poetry in front of my fics

[verinarin]

𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨; 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

in which he lets her measure his body for a new set suit for him, riddling him with her innocent touches; his view meaning the fic is written in his point of view

fluff with a lot of tension, like drenched with it. Gallagher lowkey being obsessive and loves to tease and spoil his little lady; 2K words!!

It’s Saturday.

She said she wouldn’t be home until later tonight, so I’m alone for the rest of the day. I’ve been sharing my roof with her for around 3 months now. Funny, I seem to forget how quiet this place is without her. At this hour she would be on the couch with the television on, her favorite shows would air around this time.

Am I being a creep for knowing her daily schedule like this?

Hope not, I mean that brat has been stickin’ beside me ever since day one.

Ah shit, it’s supposed to be the other around. She’s my secretary, but here I am acting like I’m some sort of personal assistant of hers, ah that little minx had me all wrapped around her pretty little manicured fingers huh?

Can’t complain though, not when she does her job perfectly.

It’s just that I rarely wanted her to work, to begin with. Her day consists of following me around like an assistant yet she treats me like I’m her assistant instead. Ahahaha I ain’t setting up a good example as her boss, but then again no one could blame me.

I mean with those fucking doe eyes and pouty lips, she’s the type of woman people wrote on their poetry. At this point, It’s clear as day that I miss that little brat. Y’know I’ll just take a quick shower before she comes home, I don’t want her to drag me to the bathroom again like yesterday.

Stepping into the shower made me realize that every single thing here smells like her. Her vanilla-scented shampoo bottle sits next to mine, her body scrubs, her soap. Damn, I never realized how much product she used, no wonder she cooped up in her for a good hour or more, being a pretty lady like her looks like hard work, perhaps harder than my line of work.

She smells like heaven afterward though, so I won’t complain.

Never mind, I would actually complain about one thing.

The fact that her scent drives me crazy sometimes, not to mention the fact that while working she often clings to me like a second skin. The amount of questions I get asking about why my clothes smell like vanilla and roses is crazy. The other hounds, hell even Siobhan tease me for smelling like a lady.

Well, as long as I don’t reek of smoke and alcohol like I used to I guess it’s a good change. As the cold water rinses through my body, I start to worry about her. She’s an adult, she would be fine traveling around Penacony, but why am I worried about her like I’m her old man? Probably because she didn’t tell me where she was going, this girl goes on a shopping spree almost every week and the one thing she never forgets to bring is her walking ATM, which is me.

Should I go look for her?

Nah, she must’ve needed some time alone. She’s probably sick of an old geezer like me, all I could entertain her with is my crappy dad jokes and a little mixology classes here and there. She seems to like my cringe dad jokes though weirdly enough and she also learns quickly on mixing beverages.

Once I finished rinsing my worries away, I put on a pair of sweatpants. I sigh as I brush my damp hair back remembering that I forgot to bring my shirt inside, my age is starting to catch up on me. Oh well, it’s not like she’s coming home soon. I let out a small chuckle as I looped the small towel I used for my hair around my neck.

The mirror in front of me reflects my rugged face, my fingertips graze upon my stubble feeling the sharp little hairs protruding from my cheek. I’ve been thinking of shaving it clean off for a while, but I remember her weird fondness for my stubble. That girl loves rubbing the back of her hand across my face like I’m some sort of a dog, which in this case relates to my line of work funnily enough.

I figured I’d let it be for now, can’t have her whine about my appearance now like she did last month when I talked to her about cutting my hair short. Her argument was if I did cut my hair she wouldn't be able to play with it anymore, such a silly girl that one.

I should fix myself a cup of coffee before cleaning around the house, it ain’t like I have anything better to do other than waiting for her like a lost puppy. I let out a hefty yawn as I walked towards the kitchen. It's easier for me to find things these days since she arranges it in a specific way. Before her, it took me around 5 minutes to search for the coffee bean, but now I can see the labeled jar from far away.

I couldn't help but let my lips curve into a small smile as I twisted the jar open, the charming scent of the coffee beans she picked emanated through the air, that little lady has good taste I must admit. Heh, she must’ve learned it from me. She used to be a tea gal before she met me, but now it seems she quite enjoys a little more caffeine here and there.

Can’t help to let out a small smirk as I brew myself a cup of coffee. She utterly consumes me at this point, every single damn thing reminds me of her it ain’t funny. I never thought I could still feel this giddy like a teenage kid at my current age, but then again she had always said that I still have my child-like wonder.

I rest my body against the counter, the cold marble hits my bare waist making me wince at the sudden temperature difference. After this, I’ll do laundry and then afterward I should start preparing for dinner.

As I lost myself in my thoughts I could hear the sound of a key twisting inside the keyhole, ah she’s home. “I’m back. Miss me, old man?” she muses as she turns her head towards me.

“Nah, I’m starting to miss my short-lived tranquility though,” I smile, pressing the rim of my glass against my lips to hide my smirk. She on the other hand has her eyes wide open, her mouth wide agape.

She stares at me a little too long before I finally break the silence between us, “Why'd ya look at me that way kid ?” I ask as I gaze toward her small face, analyzing her expression.

“You’re practically half naked, but wait that’s good actually,” shit, I forgot about that. She starts to walk towards me with a nasty smile, oh she’s scheming something alright.

“What? why is it a good thing? you've never seen a man’s body before ?” I snicker, masking away my flustered interior.

“Oh because I could clearly measure it now,” she smiles. Now hold on, measure what ??!!! The seemingly ambiguous sentence drives my mind toward possibilities that would definitely put me behind bars.

“Measure what huh ?” I let out a small chuckle, I put my cup down and leaned towards her eye level.

“You definitely won’t fit a size XL,” she sighs. Well ouch! cut me some slack little lady. I might be slacking off on my training, but I’m still in good shape. “What a way to break this old man’s heart you little brat, fyi I’ll definitely fit a size L,”

“Said that to your shirt. The poor thing needed its button to be stitched back up yesterday,” okay maybe she’s right but it still stings, my lips curve downward as I look at her, she’s out here breaking my heart to pieces.

“I’m not saying you’re putting on weight, what I’m saying is I want to measure your measurements so that I can buy you something custom-made,” she caresses my chest as her eyes lock towards mine.

I could feel my heartbeat drumming against my eardrum as her touch burned against my skin, marking it as hers. Fuck, feels so fucking good to feel her touch. Is it greedy for me to want more of her?

Her pink ‘nd soft lips curve into this delicate smile.

Fuck, she looks so pretty like that.

“Oh, what’s the occasion for dressing up this old hound ?” I smile as I lean forward to close the gap between us, trying to take control of my not-so-innocent thoughts about her lips.

I can’t recall anything worth celebrating between us, maybe the fact that I’m cutting down on smoking, but that’ll be worth something when I fully ditch it.

She merely chuckles before lightly hitting my chest like I’m telling her a funny joke, “You are an old man after all, how can you forget that three months from now is going to be the annual family?”

Ah right….

I was never the person who enjoyed those fancy parties, but hey I have her by my side so maybe I might change my stance.

“Those types of events were never my thing,” I avert my gaze, my finger drums against my nape.

“Well those types of events are my thing, so you’ll come right?” I mean with those puppy eyes, of course I’ll come.

“Fine, I guess this year’s gala could be bearable with you by my side,” I could only sigh as I stroked her hair, truly she dictates the same way as an old friend of mine.

With a smile that rivals the sun curving on her lips, she pulls out a measuring tape from her purse. Ah, so this is the ‘measuring’ part she talked about.

“Since when you’re a tailor,” I snicker as her fingers trace the long tape to find the zero mark.

“Oww hush, you’ll be the first person I’ll measure so be kind,” she mutters as she unravels the tape, “Alright lady,”

She leans closer to me as her finger holds one side of the tape beside my bare ribcage, “Stay still,” she mumbles, easier said than done.

How can I stand still when her fingertips press against my skin? It’s my damn Achilles heel. She’s too close, way too close. I don’t know how to act nor what to think when she’s soo damn close to me, the air feels stuffy and the atmosphere feels way too intimate and somehow sexual?

Kill me now.

She almost has her small face pressing against my chest, my bare chest to be exact which made this seemingly harmless interaction so dangerous.

Her other hand still struggles to find the tape behind my back. “Your chest is too broad,” she complains, I just let out a snicker at her statement which made her lose her focus.

“M’sorry anything I could do to help ?” I couldn’t do anything though, I could only extend my arms to the side to let her in, closer to me.

“Just stay still,” she huffs. Alright then, I’m cool as a cucumber. Without any warning, her cheek presses against my chest as she hugs me.

The warmth of her skin seeps through my cold chest, now this warmth burns inside me. “Ah! This works,” well I’m happy for her but there’s practically no distance between us, not even an inch.

“Stay still ol’ hound,” I must’ve been moving too much. I look down at her, her fingers skillfully bring the other side of the tape in front of my chest.

Now her forehead rests against my chest as she struggles to read the number that transpires, “Uhhh how do I read this again ?” she huffs.

“Can’t read a simple measurement now ?” my hand finds its way back toward her head, brushing a loose strand back behind her ear.

“Don’t tease,” well of course I’m going to tease as if I’m not the one who's secretly flustered as hell.

“Alright got it, now I’m going to drag this down to your waist,” she smiles as she drags both of her hands down and tightens the tape around my waist.

I never thought of myself to be a squeamish person, but I am now. “Oh wow, your chest and waist ratio are quite something….”

“What d’ya mean by that ?” I ask as she looks up towards me, “Your waist is quite slim and also your shoulders are broad so you do have that hourglass silhouette…” she muses to herself.

Well, ain’t that interesting…..

“Oh yeah your shoulders and back !” she naps herself back from her trance, cute.

With that, she took a couple of minutes to measure my upper body to the best of her abilities. Albeit the fact that I need to crouch down a bit for her to be able to measure my shoulders and back.

She takes a couple of steps back with newfound determination exuding her. I guess it’s from the fact that she’s getting the hand of measuring me.

“Are we done now ?” I ask, rather impatiently. Her fingers still linger in any direction she wants. Mapping every single inch of me into her memory.

“Still a long way to go,” she huffs. I see that she wants me to be as still as a mannequin, the things I do for her…

She hums a familiar tune, a song I like to hum. She crouches down bringing the tape around my hips, then she circles back in front of me, “Pardon my intrusion,”

Well the sentiment is rather too late now, she had been breaching my personal space since the very beginning. She couldn’t help but rest her forehead against my lower stomach as she looked down, reading the tape.

“Take your time, s’not like I could go anywhere,” I sigh as I stroke her hair, letting her silky smooth locks stream through my fingers. “I thank you for your coordination,” she snickers as she looks up at me, pretty little thing she is.

So stinkin’ cute. I smile as I cup her cheeks, letting my thumb graze against his lower lip, “Anytime, Lady,” I reply, before casually folding my arms back against each other.

Why the fuck did I just do that?

“I’m going to go lower now, I need to get some measurements for your pants,” she continued her current action without any signs of discomfort, thank god. “Oh wow even a pair of pants, you spoil this ol’ hound too much,” I feel as though my chest cavities were filled with cotton, making my heart all warm and soft.

“We both know you spoiled me rotten, Gallagher,” she cuts me, the tape now encircling around my thighs.

“Have I now?” Honestly, she deserves more than I could afford.

“You have you silly hound. Now let me repay your kindness,” her face now rests against my thighs as the tape travels slightly lower.

“Heh is this your way into getting to my pockets again,” I snicker, knowing that it’s one of her best manipulation tactics. Acting all cute and then stealing my money.

“Hey! I’m spending my own paycheck on this mister,” she protests as she stands up. “Oh, she’s a big girl now. She doesn’t need my money anymore right ?”

“Well technically no,” she looks away to the side, biting her lips in annoyance.

“She doesn’t need my money, but I’ll give it to her anyway because she has me wrapped around her little fingers,” I cup her cheeks, guiding her face to see me. “Cuz she’s my lil lady,” I smile as I press our forehead together, I can feel a thin imaginary veil between us.

“Of course I am and you’re my old hound,” she wraps her arms around my neck as my hand rests on her waist.

The thin barrier that puts a blur in our relationship, but somehow it just feels right, whatever we are it’s perfect. I don’t need more or less, just her warmth against mine.

[cillianhead]

hii! your work is amazing from what i’ve seen. so so amazing. i know you do a lot of smut but i was just wondering if you would do fluff headcanons of cillian with a fem reader who absolutely adores music? also maybe what would he do if you like dragged him to a music festival? would he enjoy it? thank you so much!!

Oh my gosh! Thank you. I'm glad you enjoy what I've written so far :)

Thank you so much for your request and I will happily write a fluffy fic just for you <3

Put The Beatles On, Light The Candles, Go Back To Bed || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: None really, fluffy <3, mentions of an unspecified age gap between reader and Cillian, reader and Cillian aren't married.

You and Cillian had a very harmonious relationship. You showed him how to get out of his comfort zone more and he showed you the finer quieter things of life. Like books, new music, poetry, and films.

You've always loved music, obsessing over it since you were little, not being able to go anywhere without your headphones and something with some sort of music that could play through it. Without it you're an irritated mess. And when you met Cillian, he introduced you to new music you'd never heard before, it's what you bonded over when getting to know each other.

Before you lived together, you'd stay up all night, listening to records he'd recommend you or calling all night long, talking about whatever together, talking about music. And when you moved in, it was just perfect. His record collection was large and full of rare finds, when he was away for work, you'd play the same Beatles album over and over again, falling asleep to it. It was comforting to you, in the presence of music, you felt Cillian there, even in his absence. You couldn't listen to one song without thinking of him.

Swaying in his living room with him, his arms wrapped around you as he sung along softly to the words. He was the perfect man for you, you both had a shared love and passion for music. You'd stay up writing songs together, playing various instruments, and making up melodies to gentle love songs dedicated to one another. It was cheesy but it was also so beautiful.

One time, Cillian wrote a short sappy love song on his guitar for you, the words were simple but meaningful, you sat cross legged, watching him play his guitar with that shy smile on his face and rosy cheeks and when the song was over, he'd look at you to see your reaction to find you sitting there crying quietly.

"Oh no, Y/N, what's wrong, baby love?" He gently placed his guitar to the side, kneeling on the ground in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. "Why are you crying?"

"That... that was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, Cillian," You sobbed, whimpering as happy tears streamed down your face. That was the moment he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you. "I love you so much, I love you, Cillian... thank you for writing that for me." You cried softly.

"Oh you sweet girl," He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips in the hopes to calm you down. Even though he knew you were happy crying, it still pained him to see your tears. "I love you more than anything, that song was only a small example of it, please don't cry or I'll start crying too..." He pulled you into his lap, tears starting to well in his own eyes, cradling you in his arms, on the floor of his living room. He hummed into your hair. You were both so incredibly in love. Two souls perfectly intertwined, your love was a slow gentle waltz and life was the music that let you dance.

Though you weren't the most extraverted person, you were definitely more outgoing than Cillian himself. He was quiet and reserved, though around you he would open up a bit more, he couldn't help being quiet when the two of you went out in public, for whatever reason it was. So when you got tickets to a one day music festival with some artists that you liked and you thought Cillian may like too, he was very hesitant to go with you. Not because he didn't want to but because he knew there would be thousands of people there, probably a lot younger than him, he'd definitely feel out of place. But he couldn't deny you something that seemed like it made you so happy.

So on the day of the festival, Cillian kept a tight arm around your waist both for his own comfort and to protect you, even if you didn't need protecting. You were so excited, raving on about how excited you were to see Lana Del Rey and all the other artists that were performing. He smiled at how happy you were. You had a glow around you when you were smiling, one that made him give you big heart eyes.

"You're so cute, love," He muttered into your hair as he placed a loving kiss on your temple. "Gonna make you m'wife, love how you love music, love you."

"Oh shut up!" You teased, nudging him softly as you shook your head bashfully. You stood more towards the back of the mosh pit, so you guys had a little more room to dance and privacy to yourselves. The event was quite colorful, people covered in glitter and nothing else walked by and tight revealing clothes, you could see Cillian's flushed face, he wore one of his cardigans and dress pants, a very modest outfit, one he usually wore everyday. You thought he was so cute. You could tell he was nervous. "I love you, Cillian, we can always leave if you don't feel up to it... I won't be upset. I just want you to feel okay." You kissed him reassuringly, he just smiled at you in response. That's all you needed to see to know he was telling you he was alright.

Your relationship was like that. You didn't need to speak to understand each other, you could give each other a glance and you would know how the other was feeling. Your hearts were connected, after all.

When the performer came on stage, Cillian took a step back, leaning against one of the barricades and watching you with a grin on his pretty face, arms crossed loosely over his chest. You danced and swayed to the music, singing your heart out to the words. You were the most beautiful thing to him, so carefree and free spirited, an angel in human form. Occasionally you'd look back at him with that big dopey smile of pure bliss, your eyes full of love and Cillian didn't know how he could love you more in that moment. He'd never met anyone like you, anyone that he could spend days and days on end with and never get sick of.

Though big crowds and festivals weren't his thing, the sight of you dancing to the music and laughing at how much fun you were having was the most lovely thing. It made his heart swell and a sense of calmness floated over him. You were all he ever wanted. As long as you were happy, he was happy.

As one of the slower songs began to play, you walked over to him, leaning against him and swaying softly, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he placed gentle kisses on your neck and collarbones. Your skin was like a drug to him, the high washing over him in waves. "My lovely girl," He'd whisper. "Love of my life."

"I love you, Cillian." You felt like the luckiest person in the world. As long as you had Cillian's love and music, you knew you'd be okay.

-

Oh to be in Cillian's arms and swaying softly to music :(

[carriedawatermelon]

Ronancetober, prompt three. In which a fish might be dying and Nancy figures some things out. This is silly and soft. In the same universe as my prompt one fic, if you squint.

Prompt: Dead

Nancy’s pulling on her jacket and boots at 11pm on a Wednesday because Robin might’ve killed a fish. 

“He’s dead, Nance. Shit, shit, shit. Or he’s gonna be. Oh my god, Dee asked me to feed him for a week and I’ve killed him.”

Fingers the Fish, Robin’s roommate’s betta, is apparently “lethargic” and there’s “a white spot on his fin, maybe?” and “he’s swimming strangely, Nance, I swear.” Nancy’s pretty sure he’s fine. Nancy’s pretty sure the way that Robin described lethargy is just…being a fish, but also, even if he’s not fine, he’s a fish.

Nancy will not let Dee be a dick over this. She will personally buy Dee another fish. She will sit with Robin when she tells her. She will nod seriously when Robin says she’s sorry and he was such a good fish. She will glare the moment Dee even implies this is Robin’s fault, and Dee will notice and stop, because she’s afraid of Nancy, and Nancy likes it that way.

For Robin’s sake, she will also attend whatever ridiculous fish funeral Dee and her performance theater people put on. The two of them will not be able to make eye contact, because they will both immediately start laughing, a lesson they learned at a harvest moon celebration that involved a set of pained, orgasmic noises thrown across an outdoor stage and into the audience by people dressed in tan turtlenecks. She will stand beside Robin and not look at her and inside she will be running a very lengthy commentary on fake problems and people who have more money than sense, which Dee and at least half her troupe do. 

(She is not dissimilar to her father sometimes, but Robin tells her it’s “style over substance, Nance, which here is a good thing. Dee is more like Ted than you, when it comes to what matters.” A wicked grin. “Try not to imagine your dad on stage next time we see them.”)

It’s halfway through lacing her second boot, hunched on the little stool by her front door and considering which 7-Eleven is the best option at this hour for Robin’s favorite sour candy, that Nancy realizes. Her hands slow on her shoelaces; her back straightens; and her mouth goes dry.

“Shit,” she says into the silence of her studio apartment. There’s some panic attached to it, but not the usual kind. Certainly not the world-ending danger panic that still sometimes rockets her awake at night. Not even the minor crisis kind that comes with leaving an essay at home or cutting it close with editing deadlines. 

It’s more internal, more incredulous. Less what are we going to do and more how could you not have known this? Because with the realization comes the knowledge that it’s been true for a long time. Years maybe. And Nancy has Wheeler genes, which means she is outstanding at ignoring and repressing and turning her head away when she doesn’t want to deal with her feelings. But Nancy’s also spent considerable time trying to learn not to be Ted. She sees a therapist, for god’s sake. 

So it’s a really, Nancy? kind of panic there at her front door, slumped back against the wall as she stares at the little side table with her keys and Robin’s keys and the green glazed little dish Robin had made for her in the ceramics class she took their first year of college. A watercolor she did hangs next to Nancy’s bed. She’s in more than half the frames on Nancy’s bookshelves, in the Polaroids on Nancy’s fridge. She has a drawer in Nancy’s dresser and a nightstand that’s all but officially hers, books of poetry and Greek classics stacked in the opening underneath the drawer, which holds a spare pair of reading glasses that Robin wears all the way down her nose. She’s everywhere, and Nancy only wants more. Nancy’s getting herself together to make an hour-long drive on a weeknight because Robin is freaking out over a fish, and the only thing she’ll be able to do is be there with her. Nancy wants to be there with her. 

Nancy is, as it turns out, entirely in love with Robin. 

“Shit,” she says again, and then forces herself to lace her boots.

After a night of watching Robin watch the fish, of carding her fingers through Robin’s hair on the sofa until she falls asleep in her lap, Nancy drives them both to a pet store, which according to the Yellow Pages ad has considerable knowledge about fish. They talk to a very enthusiastic kid who reminds Nancy of her brother if he ever smiled, and they leave with some droplets. Robin hugs her so hard before she drives back to Evanston that Nancy’s sleep-deprivation-inspired grumpiness evaporates. She holds Robin tightly to herself and breathes her in, which doesn’t feel weird because it’s what she does every single time she says goodbye. 

Really, Nancy?

Nancy has college friends. Nancy has good college friends. Nancy has good, queer college friends, who would absolutely mock her for what is maybe the most stereotypically lesbian thing she has ever done, and she regularly assists with set-building for the plays her friend Jamal directs, tool belt firmly in place. 

She doesn’t call them. 

She picks up her phone and dials a number she still knows by heart and when, on the third ring, Steve picks up with a lazy Hello, Nancy blurts, “I’m in love with Robin.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “Nancy?”

“I’m in love with Robin,” she says again, like she has some kind of virus that compels it. 

“Nancy,” he says, slower, gentler. “Did you…did you not know?”

“Did I…” She frowns. “Did I not…”

“Oh my god,” he breathes out. “You didn’t know.”

“Steve,” she says, a little helplessly, which she hates so much it makes her want to hang up the phone. 

“Oh, okay, yeah. Yeah. Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Nancy. What, uh…do you want to talk about it?” He tries, and yes, she does, because Steve is Robin’s best friend and loves her deeply and it had felt right, to call him, to call someone who could hear her love Robin and go, of course you love her, who could hum and say, isn’t she something? 

Instead, she says, only half-sure she wants a real answer, “It’s that obvious?”

He’s kind, when he explains that yes it is in fact that obvious. He talks about all the things Nancy knows, the things that had shot to the front of her mind last night at the door and then in the car and with Robin’s head in her lap and while Robin nodded intently and took notes on fish care. 

Really, Nancy?

“Does she know?” She asks, when she feels like she can.

“I mean, I’ve tried to tell her.” A pause. “Sorry about that. I just…uh…” 

I thought you knew, he doesn’t say, and Nancy thinks about what it would have been like to realize because Robin did something before she could, pressed her lips to Nancy’s one night before they said goodbye or didn’t let go the way Nancy never wanted her to anyway when they woke up together. 

“Does she…” She doesn’t finish the question. Steve shouldn’t be the one to tell her, and Nancy is coming to realize she doesn’t need him to, anyway. “Never mind.” She takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Steve. Really. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Steve laughs. “You’re driving back to Chicago,” he says, voice teasing. 

“I am,” she confirms. 

“It’s gonna be good, Nance,” he says, in a tone Nancy never expected to hear this way. “You both deserve something good.” 

“Thanks,” she says softly. “You do, too, you know?”

“There’s actually…there’s someone you should meet. Both of you. When you come home.”

“Melissa?” Nancy asks, and Steve groans. 

“Jesus, Robin. I should’ve known she’d be telling you everything.”

“Not everything,” Nancy corrects. “But she’s very excited about this one. She likes the way you talk about her. She likes the way she makes you feel,” she says, using Robin’s phrasing. 

“She makes me feel good,” he says, and Nancy smiles into the receiver. 

“Good.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, Wheeler, stop talking to me and go get the girl. And be prepared for me to ask you about your intentions when you come home for spring break.”

“I don’t think you want to hear about my intentions,” Nancy says, a little lecherously, and Steve barks a laugh. 

“Uh-huh, stud, good try but remember how we started this call.”

“Stud?” She snorts, but she does remember. “Thank you again. Really.”

“Go, go,” Steve says, and she hangs up and does just that. 

Robin’s got class, and Nancy’s skipping one of her own to make the drive back, but she doesn’t care. It’s an art history survey for a gen ed requirement, massive and boring and Lisa will give her notes anyway. She lets herself into the apartment twenty minutes before Robin’s class lets out, which means she probably has forty-five or so to wait anxiously on Robin’s couch before she gets back. 

She stares at Fingers, at the medicine droplets and the page with Robin’s notes sitting next to his bowl. He looks fine. He looks like a fish. He swims in circles. 

She tries to read, a long form piece mentioned in one of her journalism classes on Robin’s coffee table where she’d left it last weekend. Eventually, she gives up, eyes unfocused on the page. 

When Robin’s key turns in the lock, she’s back staring at Fingers. “Hi,” she calls out.

“Nance?” Robin’s tossing her jacket on the hook, grinning around the corner to see her. Her face falls when she sees Nancy, whose own smile must be an anxious mess. 

“He’s not dead,” she says, voice shaking a little, and Robin’s got her arms at Nancy’s biceps, eyes checking over her frantically.

“Nancy, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Really, Nancy?

“Nothing,” she says, forcing a breath, reaching up to squeeze at Robin’s hands on her arms and then stepping forward and wrapping her own around Robin, burying her nose in the fabric of her sweater. 

Robin’s arms close around her immediately, holding her closer, and her cheek rests on Nancy’s head as she says, “Okay. Okay. Are you sure? Because you looked…and you’re back here even though…shit, Nance, you have class. What’s wrong?”

Last night I was putting on my boots to come comfort you over a not-dead fish and I realized I was in love with you and it’s both the best thing that’s ever happened to me and terrifying. 

That’s not quite what she wants. Nancy’s good at words. She’s going to make a career of it. She’s also brave. She’s had to be. And Steve’s right. This is going to be good. This is Robin, and it’s going to be so, so good.

“I’ve been an idiot,” she says, and then pulls back. Her eyes flash to Fingers, still not dead, and she links her hands with Robin’s, pulls her to the sofa. She wants to look at her and be close to her, so she pulls one leg up and presses it against Robin’s knees where they’re crossed, keeps their fingers linked. Robin’s blue eyes are tracking her closely, concerned, and Nancy reaches up to run a thumb over the furrow between them. 

Really, Nancy? But now she’s going to do something about it.

“You’re my favorite person,” she says, and Robin’s worry stays, but a blush blooms in her cheeks. She keeps talking before Robin can say something sweet. “Last night, I was putting on my boots and thinking about you. That’s normal. I’m always thinking about you. Which is another reason why I’m an idiot for not…” She sighs and Robin’s head is slightly tilted now, eyes questioning and blush deep and beautiful against her pale skin. She stays quiet, for Nancy. “Anyway, last night I was thinking about how to make you feel better about Fingers and I was imagining the nightmare funeral Dee would have for him. And I thought about you laughing at that Harvest Moon performance and I realized…I realized I’m in love with you. And I have been for…for a long time.”

“Oh my god,” Robin says lowly, and then she leans forward and kisses Nancy deeply, hands framing her face and tongue licking into her mouth, and Nancy climbs into her lap and holds tight. 

Six months later, Fingers dies, and Robin shows up at Nancy’s apartment with the flyer for the funeral, bottom lip in her teeth and laughter in her eyes. They go, dressed in  blue and purple as requested, a tribute to his kind. When the lights dim in the basement, a rhythmic grunting emanating from backstage, Nancy squeezes Robin’s hand tightly and does not look at her. When the troupe emerges in jewel tone leotards, writhing and wailing with one another, she feels Robin’s body shaking with laughter. They make it, barely, snacking on vegan cookies and giving a weepy Dee a hug before hustling back to Nancy’s car. 

Tears stream down Robin’s face, her breathing ragged with laughter, and Nancy thumbs them away and kisses her. “Rest in peace, Fingers,” she says solemnly, sending Robin off again, and she’s so gorgeous when she laughs. 

Nancy’s in love with her. Really. 

[piratefalls]

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.” “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.”  OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married. 

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

[mwahsturns]

First choice // Matt Sturniolo Pt 1

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

Contains: cussing, fluff, flirting, talk of death, Semi-proof read! I think that’s it let me know if there’s more! Also if there’s any grammar or spelling mistakes please ignore them 😭🙏🏻

Synopsis: Y/n works at a record store and one day while she’s working two very cute guys walk into the store but one especially catches her eye and later so happens they end up having more then just there music taste in common ;)

Word Count:1,890

Author’s notes: Hii bbys !! <3, So I’ve never written a fic before or posted on tumblr, So I’m sorry if this is bad I’m new at this please go easy on me😭🙏🏻. If you guys have any suggestions, tips or advice please message me I hope you enjoy my new series!!, this took me a very long time to come up with so I hope you love it💗.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

The sound of music always brought me peace, I work at a record shop because I love being around vinyls and just anything music related really. I also really enjoy reading It's always brought me a sense of comfort as well as writing and poetry. Honestly it makes me really happy, and ever since I was a kid I've always written songs and maybe sang a little bit but that’s a secret. I don't know what it is but I always feel like it helps me forget about everything that’s wrong in my life, my parents died when I was 16 so it’s always been just me and my two little brothers. I love them more than anything and I'd do anything for them. Today was just a regular day at work I was putting vinyls on the racks that they go on when two guys walk into the store, I look over and give them a soft smile.

‘hii welcome let me know if you need any help finding any artist or vinyl specifically’ they smile at me and nod as one of the boys catches my eye, I’m a very shy person so I decided not to say anything unless I needed to. After a couple minutes I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turned around and saw the guy who caught my eye standing in front of me. ‘hi um i wanted to ask you something’ he seemed very nervous but also very confident weird mix. ‘yes of course how can i help you’ I smiled softly at him hoping to make him more comfortable, ‘do you happen to have “circles” by Mac miller’ he says as he does a side smile. I smile at him as I think about how I also enjoy mac miller.

‘yea over here!’ i walk over and pull it off the rack, ‘this is one of my favorites’ i say chuckling, ‘i really like this one’ he says turning the vinyl around. ‘what other artists do you like?’ ‘i really like d4vd and um frank ocean oh! Omg Dominic Fike omg Tyler the creator?! is so amazing and oh my god i'm rambling im so sorry’ I blushed getting a little nervous, ‘nah you're good’ he smiles as I look up at him and smile softly. We stand there until the guy he came with comes up to him ‘woah you guys twins or am I dumb?’ ‘nahh triplets’ he says laughing ’oh cool” i say and start checking them out. ‘You're the first to not ask us a million and one questions about being triplets’ he chuckles, ‘yea nah y'all will tell me over time’ I smirk i say with my boston accent coming through a little.

‘oh so you plan on getting to know us’ he smirks a little ‘oh totally y’all look cool’ I laugh, ‘you're from boston?’ The other guy says noticing my backpack in the back with the Boston logo. ‘yes i am’ i laugh ‘us too!’ ‘What's your name?’ The guy who got my eye says ‘I’m y/n’ ‘cool im matt and hes chris’ ahh Matt hot guy hot name. ‘cool!’ I hand them the bag and me and Matt make eye contact, ‘have a good day’ ‘thanks you too’ matt says smiling at me. They walk out and i really hope i see them again.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

  I finally got to clock out of work It was so tiring and I needed to make sure my little brothers were ok. I get to my car and get settled in and connect my phone to the aux and play “Ivy” by Frank Ocean. I’m so glad to be going home I think as I started driving I decided that I was gonna pick up a pizza for my little brothers because I got paid today and I know how much they love pizza. We aren't broke completely but we definitely struggle sometimes recently things have been rough but I finally got a promotion so it's getting a little easier I got the pizza and started heading home I got home and when i opened the door and my brothers cody and alex run up to me and ‘sissyyyy we missed you’ alex says hugging me, ‘aww i miss you too bud’ ‘sissy you bought pizza!’ Cody says looking like his eyes are gonna pop out of his head. 

 

i walk over to alexa who’s been my best friend for years, she helps me with my brothers and just around the house ‘thank you so much lex’ i say hugging her ‘Of course love that's what best friends are for’ she says smiling softly ‘wanna spend the night and when i put them to bed we can talk?’ ‘yeah okay sure’ Alexa smiles at me while i feed the boys.

I start to give the boys a shower and as i’m showering cody he looks up at me with the biggest smile on his face. ‘sissy I wanna be just like you when i grow up.’ He says playing with the bubbles, ‘aww little c i love you a lot bub and i know one day you’ll be even better than me’ i say tearing up, cody has always been more clingy to me than Alex is but not as much, cody doesn’t like to leave my side and he is the sweetest kid ever. Him saying he wants to be like me does hurt a little because I've been through a lot of shit but the fact that I look strong in his eyes makes up for it all. I put them to bed and Me Alexa got some wine and took a seat on the couch.

‘So how was your day?’ She says sitting next to me. ‘it was good omg lex these two really cute brothers came into the shop and oh my god girl’ I say blushing thinking of Matt ‘speaking of cute brothers you know the guy i was talking to?’ ‘yes why?’ ‘this is him and his brother I’d think you like him’ she turns her phone and pulls out a picture.

‘hold up hold up let me see that?!’ i say taking the phone from her ‘omg thats the cute guys that came in today’ ‘Omg?! yeah i've been talking to chris for a minute now’ ‘matt’s pretty attractive just sayin’ I couldn’t help myself but blush i don’t know what’s wrong with me fuck Y/N get it together. ‘oooo y/n has a crush?’ ‘oh shut the fuck up’ ‘oh come on you haven’t had a boyfriend since your parents died’ she says starting to get serious, ‘i know but my brothers mean the world to me lex i need to make sure there ok i don’t have the time’ I would love to give Matt a chance but i don’t know.

‘your brothers would want you to be happy y/n/n’ she says rubbing my knee, ‘I know but it's not about me being happy i need to make sure there happy i have to be a mother figure to them they need me’ ‘i get that babes but you need to remember you lost them too your only 20 rasing two kids you need to be a kid too especially since you were forced to grow up so quick’ i look at her and nod I mean I understand where she’s coming from but my brothers are all I know. ‘i love you y/n i'm just looking out for you ima head to bed goodnight love’ ‘night babes’ as she walks off and goes to into the guest room i kinda sit there think about what she said and i mean she's right but i can’t risk something happening to my brothers.  I head upstairs and head to bed because i have another day of work but holy fuck thank god it's friday. 

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

I woke up the next morning only because my alarm for work went off and i see it’s 9:44 so i know Alexa is getting my brothers ready for school I get out of the bed and i started to get ready for work. I finished getting ready for work when my younger brother Cody came into the room with tears in his eyes. ‘sis…’ he says in a sad tone I turned around quickly and scooped him into my arms ‘aww what's wrong love?’ i say concerned.

‘i don’t wanna go to school i wanna stay home with you can you please skip work..’ he says in a whiny tone, ‘Aww bub i wish i could help but you know the rules’ When i got custody of cody and alex the court gave me really strict rules to follow, i had to make sure they were always at school, they weren’t falling and that i kept a stable job and make enough money or else they would take them away. ‘I know but i hate being at school kids are mean to me and alex’ i look at him feeling bad but i don’t wanna risk losing them. ‘I’m sorry bub if i could keep you and alex with me 24/7 forever i would’ i say hugging him tightly.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

i got to work over an hour ago and to say its boring is an understatement. Just as i think that i hear the bell ring meaning someone walked into the store, i look up ready to greet them and i realize its matt. ‘Matt? Hey’ i say smiling. ‘Hey um i know this might be weird but i um.. Well so my brother chris the one that was with me last time uh i found out that the girl hes been talking to happens to be your best friend right?’ ‘yeah shes my best friend’ ‘well um she kinda encouraged me to come back..’ ‘what do you mean?’ ‘well i uh wanted to see if you were willing to go out with me… you don’t have to its o-‘ he starts to say but i cut him off. ‘Sure why not’ i say smiling i don’t know what happened but he was too sweet for me to say no to.

‘Wait really?’ ‘yea i mean i can’t deny you are pretty cute..’ ‘well thank you’ he laughs damn something about the way he laughs i dont know but it feels almost addicting to listen to. ‘Uh are you free saturday?’ ‘yeah i am’ i smile ‘sweet! Ill text you’ ‘okay bye matt’ ‘bye” he blushed a little bit as he left the shop. Shit who’s gonna watch cody and alex?!                                                                   

Author’s notes:heyyy I’m back! So I hope you enjoyed the first part of this series and I’m sorry if there was any typos, spelling mistakes, etc I’ll try to fix the ones I can if I miss anything please let me know but I hope you enjoy and have a great day 💋

[lillylvjy]

Tender is the night (for a broken heart)

A/n// hello! So I’ve been writing this fic for… a long time. But it’s also one of my fav fics I’ve wrote so far, and it means a lot to me. It is long but! It’s cute so, enjoy! Also, if it seems like it’s everywhere, I’m so sorry. I tried to make it as connected and sensible as I could!

Warnings// kissing, some sexual innuendos at the end ig, hurt/comfort, reader being insecure, crying, swearing, panic attack, a lot of fluff at the end, Sarah being a bitch. (Please tell me if I missed anything!)

Edited and 5.5k words!

When you and Wilbur started dating, you thought it was a joke.

Wilbur was the smart and nerdy, yet extremely attractive and well known kid. He was the lead trumpet in the band and a straight A student. He liked to play guitar for small gigs at your local coffee shop, but it was also the same place he worked at on a regular day basis after school.

And you. You were the smart and nerdy kid that no one really knew. You always kept to yourself. You were usually sitting at one of the corner tables at lunch watching the group of girls crowd around Wilbur. You worked at the diner down the street from the café as a waitress. You wrote poetry for fun and put your art in art shows that happened in the city to try and sell them to gain a couple bucks.

To put it simply. You were a nobody. An outcast.

So when Wilbur came over to you at lunch one day, tapping your shoulder to get your attention over the music blasting in your ears, you were shocked.

“Hey! Y/n right?” The boy asked you as you took off your headphones and looked up at him. You took a quick glance over at the group of girls and saw all of them looked confused and jealous he was paying attention to you. The schools nobody.

“Uh.. yeah! Yeah I’m y/n.” You said hesitantly and quiet. “What are you doing over here? Don’t you have other girls to talk to?” You said with a bitter tone.

“Ouch. I can talk to other people you know? What? Don’t want to talk to me?!” He asked as he leant against the wall your table was against and smirked down at you.

You rolled your eyes as you put your pencil down on your notebook. “No Wilbur. I really don’t want to talk to you. I’m busy.” You pointed down to your notebook with a rough sketch of the scene that was in front of you a couple second ago. You had the silhouettes of the students drawn out but got rudely interrupted by Wilbur before you were going to start drawing him.

“Ahh. I see. Is this what you always do at lunch?” He asked as he stole your notebook from the table and flipped through the notebook.

“Wait! Wilbur, stop it! Give it back!”

“What?! Got something bad in here?! Do you draw naked people like Jack from Titanic?! Even worse, do you draw me-“ Wilbur froze as he looked down at your notebook, his face falling slowly into a look of confusion and disbelief.

You quickly grabbed your notebook from Wilbur’s loose grasp and closed it up. You held it to your chest as you closed your eyes and waiting for him to start laughing. But yet, no laughing came.

“Was- Was that me?” He asked in a hushed voice for only you to hear.

“Yeah, so what?” You asked back in a harsh voice.

“I- It’s really good. Like super good. Can I see it again?” He asked you softly as he sat down next to you and held his hand out, head slightly turnt to look at you.

You hesitantly put the notebook in his hand and let him have his fun. As he opened the notebook and flipped through, you watched his face. His face was always perfect somehow. Not just because it was symmetrical! But, because it was always so loose. He had very few wrinkles and he had a little crease it his forehead from when he smiled. He looked peaceful and beautiful. Regardless if he did have any or not, he would always be perfect to you. Always.

“I like this one.” He snaps you out if your thoughts as he points to the page he’s on. One of your favorites as well. It was a portrait of him, but it was his side profile while laughing. He continued flipping until he got to the one he landed on. That one was a drawing of him playing the guitar in a flower field. Something you kind of just.. came up with. But it was by far the one you admired and cherished the most. “Now this. This is incredible. How did you draw this?” He asked looking up at you.

“Oh! Um.. I just kind of imagined a place you would possibly play at and came up with this. It took a while but, it was worth it.” You tell him as you trace over the likes of rough pencil markings and dark shaded areas, admiring the piece. While you did that, Wilbur never took his eyes off you. He watched how your eyes filled with happiness and nostalgia from when drawing this. Filled with relief and longing. He watched your lips twitch as you held back a smile. God how much he would love to see you smile. “But it’s nothing important. Just a silly little sketch.” You concluded as you grabbed the notebook and put it into your bag as the bell rang.

“Do you put any of your art in the art show they do up in the city? Because if you do, you should definitely put that one in there.” Wilbur says as he gets up with you and slings his backpack on his back.

“I do. But I don’t know if I want to put that one. I like it too much.” You gave him a small smile as you looked up at him.

Wilbur smiled back down at you. “Do you have another class for the rest of the day?”

“Um… no actually. Why?” You asked him as you both started to walk out of the school.

“Would you maybe want to go get coffee and maybe go to that flower field so I can play you some music? And so you can draw my handsome self again, obviously.” Wilbur cockily added the last part.

“Hmm. Only if I pay. It’s the least I could do since you’re letting me get a free show and a drawing session in one day.” You offered him.

“Deal. But this is the only time you will be paying. Also I’m driving.” Wilbur says as he stops in front of his car. It was an old, rusty, beat up red truck. But it fit him so well. Like it was made for him.

“Oh? So you’re saying there’ll be another time?” You jokingly questioned him.

“Only if you want it darling.” Wilbur told you as he opened the door for you as you gave him your bag. Wilbur quickly put the bags in the back and ran to the drivers side. He put his phone on the aux and put on a random playlist.

“We’ll see how today goes pretty boy. And maybe there will be another time.” You said as you rolled down your window and let the fall breeze into the car. Wilbur did the same with his and chuckled at the nickname. You looked at him from your seat and smiled brightly at him as he looked at you.

“Well then. I’ll try my best to make it the best time you have ever had.” Wilbur says as he backs out of the parking lot and to the coffee shop.

After that day, you and Wilbur grew closer. You continued to hang out as friends. And eventually those feelings turned into more for the both of you, and the hangouts became dates. And by the end of your junior year, you and Wilbur were dating. Everyone always told you how good you and Wilbur were together. And you thought that too. You loved him. A lot. Yes you had worries but, those quickly subsided when he was around.

You and Wilbur graduated high school with the both of you getting voted best couple of the year in your year book. Wilbur went to college for a couple years but soon dropped out to pursue music. He made a band and quickly started to make music and publish it, which was going extremely well. You, on the other hand, went to college and finished. Going to classes for drawing and painting, to improve your skills, and majoring in fine arts and digital arts. You continued to sell and show your art off at shows and art museums when they offered. You also got a job at a school teaching art and teaching kids that art can help express things and tell stories.

You loved that Will followed his heart and pursued music. You loved watching him just play small snippets of the things him and the guys were working on for you. Loved being apart of the writing process, as well as the designing process. You loved seeing him so happy and excited with his music.

You both lived together in an apartment in downtown Brighton and you were both happy!

Well. At least you were. You didn’t know about how Wilbur felt after finding those text.

Wilbur and you were both lying on the couch, watching a movie. Well. You were at least. Wilbur fell asleep half way through the movie with his arm holding your waist, pulling you close to him. The other hand that was tracing your arms was now in yours as you played with his fingers, listening to his soft snores and his little whispers from his dreams. He looked so peaceful.

Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of Wilbur’s phone buzzing on the coffee table. Thank god it was on silent or he could’ve woken up immediately knowing him. You took the phone and pressed the ‘shut off’ button to turn of the buzzing.

Once you were settled into Wilbur again. The buzzing started up again. You groaned as you moved and turned the buzzing off again. That had to be it.

A couple minutes later his phone started to buzz again, but short, little buzzes from text messages.

Now you were curious.

Who needed his attention this badly, besides you of course.

You slowly reached over to grab Wilbur’s phone and turned it on to show his lock screen.

The lock screen was a picture of you and Wilbur, sitting on the couch that was in the studio. You sitting on Will’s lap with his guitar in your own lap. Wilbur’s hand fingering the chords, as you strum whatever song you guys were playing. Wilbur’s free hand on your thigh as you both looked at each other with goofy smiles. You remember that day like it was yesterday. The day Wilbur told you he loved you.

When you finally snapped out of your thoughts, you looked down at the messages that continued to come through. You grimaced as you swiped up into his phone to reveal the numbers asking for the password. You hated going on or even through his phone. You didn’t want to be considered that girlfriend. You weren’t the jealous type and it wasn’t like you didn’t trust him, because you did! But. His phone never went off like this unless it was you wanting his attention or his band mates trying to get him to wake up on Saturday mornings for practice.

You typed in Wilbur’s password for his phone, which was your birthday. He said it was “more romantic than a stupid little password that didn’t mean anything to him.” Which you didn’t argue with. As you finally got into his phone, you took a deep breathe and went into messages.

But the name you saw didn’t seem real.

Sarah. A girl throughout high-school you were always jealous of. She was the cheer captain her senior year and she was always on varsity cheer throughout the years. She was the definition of perfect to you. She was beautiful, nice and extremely smart. She was one of those popular girls who was always super nice to people… well like you. The quote-on-quote “weirdos”. Even when she was friends with absolute assholes, it felt nice to be noticed by her. Now, junior year, it was rumored that her and Wilbur liked each other. I mean, they always talked to each other, sat by each other, and you could tell by the way Wilbur looked at her that something was going on. That’s one major reason of why you were jealous of her. But, the rumors were quickly shut down when Brett, the quarterback, asked her to the homecoming after the big game against their rivals. She obviously said yes and that was the end of the story. Sarah and Brett started dating and Wilbur was, you could say, forgotten by her. But you could tell Wilbur still had feelings for her after that night at the football game.

“Why is she texting him?” You thought out loud. You heard Will groan and shift slightly after you said that. You froze and looked at him until you heard his snores start back up, that’s when you relaxed. You looked down at the text.

‘Hey Wilbur!’

‘Are we still getting coffee this afternoon?’

‘Text me back when you can!’

When you say your heart stopped, you meant it. Coffee? With her? With the person he knows makes you insecure about everything? He said he had a get together with his friends tonight. What the fuck is going on?!

You scrolled up and saw the text messages they had earlier. Nothing screamed ‘cheating!’, you know Wilbur wouldn’t do that. But some whispered, ‘watch out for her.’

As you heard Wilbur groan and begin to wake up, you quickly put his phone on the table and smiled up at him.

‘Act normal. Talk about it later.’

“Hey sleepy head.” You put on a small smile as you ran your hands through his hair. He looked… perfect.

“Hey. Have you been awake this whole time?” He asked in a scratchy deep voice. He looked at you as you scratched his scalp and smiled.

“Eh. I woke up about 10 minutes ago.” You said while pecking his chin. He laughed and cupped your face in his hands as he pulled you up to be face to face with him. “What’s up?”

He smiled and looked at you for a couple seconds. “You, my love, are so beautiful.” He leant up and kissed you. Slow and passionate.

The kiss lasted shorter than you both would’ve liked but Wilburs phone started buzzing again. He groaned as he reached for the little device and grimaced as he looked at it. “Sorry love. I have to go. James is calling me.” Wilbur said as he got up from underneath you and put his shoes back on. “I’ll bring back some food for you ok?” He asked you as he pecked your lips one last time.

“Mhm. Just don’t get the wrong thing this time.” You teased him.

“That was one time! And I promise I won’t.” He said back to you as he kisses your forehead and grabbed his wallet and phone.

“I love you. Have fun.” You said as he opened the front door.

“I love you too darling.” He smiled at you as he closed the door.

You quickly frowned as thoughts started to crowed your mind.

‘When he comes home, I’ll ask him about it.’

Well. That was two days ago. And you still haven’t talked to him about it. It’s not like you haven’t had time or you haven’t seen him! You two are basically stuck to the hip when you can be. But. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Afraid that maybe it was true. Maybe Wilbur never loved you and kept in touch with Sarah secretly this whole time and waited until she was either single or loved him again.

No. Your head was just playing tricks on you right? He wouldn’t do that! He’s a good guy. And he loves you. Right?

Wilbur came home from filming a video with Tommy and the rest of the boys. Once he came into the house and greeted you, you sat him down on the couch with you and sighed.

“We need to talk Will. And it’s nothing bad, maybe.” You said, anxiety filling your body as you looked down at your hands in your lap and started picking at them.

“Love what’s up? Talk to me.” Wilbur whispered to you as he grabbed your hands and kissed them.

You looked at him and sigh. “Do you love me? Like… truly. Do you love me?” You asked, slow and drawn out. your voice quiet and breathy, almost like you didn’t want to be saying those words and you didn’t want the reply to them.

The moment those words fell from your mouth, Wilbur’s face fell. He felt… sad? Angry? Confused? Why did you ask him that? Didn’t you know you were all he can think about half the time? Of course he loves you! “Love. Why are you asking that?” Wilbur asked in confusion and disbelief you would even ask that.

“No. Wil. I need you to answer the question. Do you love me or not?” You said, your voice raising slightly as you let go of his hands and got up from the couch.

“I- what brought this up y/n? I just want to know what I did to make you think this-“

“I saw the text. I saw what you both were doing that night. You fucking lied to me Wil! How long has this been going on? How long have you been seeing her?!” You raised your voice as you spoke. You couldn’t control your emotions. You weren’t angry per-say. You were more upset and disappointed. If this was true, you were done.

“What text?! What are you talking about?” Wilbur said as he scrunched his face up and looked at you like you were crazy.

“Oh don’t fucking try that on me. You know exactly what I’m talking about! You and Sarah have been secretly seeing each other this whole time, right? All the times you went out with the “guys”. It was with her. Right?!” You yelled at him, your voice cracking as you held back sobs.

Wilbur just looked at you with the most heartbreaking look ever. You saw the text? He got rid of those! He wasn’t even worried about the text at the moment though. He was upset and angry you thought that about him. Thought that he would do that. But disappointed at himself for not getting rid of her number and just telling you about what happened. “Y/n-“

“Please tell me this is fake. Please tell me what I’m feeling is just my mind playing games on me!” You sobbed as your ran your hands through your hair. “Please, Wilbur. I- I love you so much. Please. Please don’t leave me.” You whimpered as you choked back sobs as you looked at him through blurry eyes. Wilbur hurriedly got up and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought your head to his chest and held it there as you sobbed. You wrapped your arms around his torso and scrunched his sweater up in your hands and squeezed.

Your thoughts persisted as you sobbed into his sweater. ‘He doesn’t love you. He never did!’ ‘He was using you the whole time to get over her.’

It didn’t feel real.

“Please- Wilbur please-“ You gasped out through sobs as you grabbed your chest, trying to get air into your lungs.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, ok? Focus on me.” He said in the softest voice you have ever heard as he gently cupped your face. “Deep breathes. In and out, ok? Do it with me. In-“ Wilbur inhaled as you grabbed into his forearms and followed him. Once he saw you take in as much air as you could, he exhaled. “And out. Good girl. Yeah. And just keep doing that with me ok?” You nodded as Wilbur helped you get a steadier breathe.

Once you nodded at him to tell him you were alright, he brought his forehead down to your own and sighed. “Can I- Can I please explain, all of this?” He asked you as he leaned back to look at you. You nodded, afraid if you spoke you would start crying again.

Wilbur sighed and gently brought you to the couch. He grabbed your hands and held them in his own as he kissed them gently. “Darling. I love you so much. So goddamn much. And I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Wilbur started but quickly stopped as he got choked up. He was scared to be honest. Scared you would leave him either way. Scared that once he explained the whole situation, you would still be upset about all of it. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. Not having you there with him. Not having your stupid jokes and your silly faces when he wakes up in the mornings. Not having anyone to come home too. Not having you to share music with.

He didn’t like the thought of you not being in his life anymore.

Wilbur looked up to see you looking at him with a sad lopsided smile and waiting patiently for him to continue as you rubbed his knuckles. “I-“ He took a few breathe before continuing. “I saw her at the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. And I hadn’t seen her since high school so I just went up to say hi and ask how she was doing.” Wilbur took a deep breathe before continuing the story. “She said that her and Brett broke up and she was home for the holiday. I had to leave, so I gave her my number, just to catch up her! Nothing else. And she texted me later that day if I wanted to get lunch and catch up in person. And me being the person I am said yes. And then during lunch I-“ Wilbur cleared his throat as he got chocked up once again. “I knew she was trying to flirt with me. She kept touching my hand and making unnecessary comments about me and just- it didn’t seem right. So I started talking about you and she got annoyed. That’s when I finally realized she didn’t want to catch up, more like she wanted to see if I was available. Which I made it super clear that I wasn’t! I mean. I thought I did. I thought I blocked her number, truly. I didn’t think she would keep pestering me about seeing her after talking about you. Y/n-“ Wilbur got cut off by his own sob. All you did was bring him into your chest while crying with him. “I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t mean to h-hurt you. I didn’t mean for you to think like that. I should’ve never said a-anything to her. I’m so sorry.” Wilbur sobbed out into your chest as he held you close to him like a lifeline. Like you would leave any moment.

You buried your face into the messy mop of hair on top of his head. You just sat there, holding him and crying with him, whispering to him that you loved him and it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know this was going to happen. He didn’t plan for this to happen. It wasn’t his fault.

As you both settled down and your breathing was back to a regular rhythm, you lifted his head in your hands and wiped his tear stained cheeks and gave him a weak smile. “Wil. It’s not your fault. You were just being the nice person you always are, and I love you for that. And I’m not mad at you or anything. I’m just, kind of mad at myself and confused about everything. Mad at myself for letting myself get upset over this without letting you talk. Letting myself get insecure about our relationship and your feelings about me because of her. But also knowing your history with her, it kinda made my brain go into thoughts I didn’t like.” You let out a shaky sigh as you tried to blink away your tears. “But I’m also conf-“ you cleared your throat before continuing. “I’m just also confused on where you went that night and all those nights that you just left in a hurry or just left while smiling at your phone. It doesn’t make sense Wil.” Your voice cracked as you ended your sentence, putting your head down to look at your lap as your bottom lip quivered and you took deep breathes to stop yourself from crying.

Wilbur frowned at you as he sat up and took your hands in his again. “Love. You had all the right to be upset. I should’ve have told you I saw her, I should have told you about the lunch, I should’ve have told you about everything. And I’m so sorry you felt that way love. You shouldn’t have to be insecure about yourself or this relationship. I love you. And only you. You are perfect. And I only want you. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you.” Wilbur sniffed as he lifted your chin up so you were looking at him. “There’s my perfect darling.” Wilbur smiled at you as he cupped your face and rubbed your cheeks. You sent him a weak smile back as you leant into his hand. “And if you’re wondering what I’ve been doing all of those nights. I’ve been with the Phil, Tommy, Jack, James, practically everyone. Every night. Not with her. And I had a plan, but I cant wait any longer so-“ Wilbur cut himself off as he went to his coat on the rack and went through his pockets. He held the mystery thing in his balled up fist and came back over to you.

Wilbur knelt down on one knee in front of you as he looked at you with a small smile. You just sat on the couch with a confused yet shocked face. “Wil-“

“Y/n. Ever since that one little interaction in the cafeteria in junior year, I’ve been utterly in love with you. From your art to the way you laugh and talk about the things you love for hours on end. You have become home. And I never really believed in that stuff, about how a person could become home to you. But now I do. I have found that one person i want to spend every moment with until I die. And the only person that will put up with my bullshit.” You laughed at that as you sniffed and held back tears. “And that is you, darling. Always and only you. Now-“ Wilbur sniffed and smiled as he looked at you and opened the small black box. Inside, a silver ring with a small yet beautiful diamond, which you knew was fake, on the top. You admired the ring as he took it out of its resting place and held it up to you. “I know it’s not much but, it’s something. Y/n L/n, will you make me the happiest man to ever exist and marry me?” Wilbur asked you, his hand slightly shaking as he awaited your answer.

You laughed a little as you yet again held back tears and nodded. “Of course I’ll marry you William. Oh my god.” You say in shock as Wilbur put on the ring and cupped your face. He pecked your lips softly and rested his forehead on yours as he laughed.

“Thank fuck. I was scared you were gonna say no.” Wilbur sighed out as you smiled up at him.

“I would never. I love you too much. That is unless you did do something bad-“

“I swear I didn’t!”

“I know, I know! What made you decide to do… that… now?” You asked him as he sat on the couch and pulled you into his lap.

“Well, knowing you had those thoughts and knowing how impatient I am to just make you mine forever, fuck the plan. Sorry Phil but, I needed you to know that you are my forever. My one and only. My sugar plum. My little soft cute baby-“

“Ok now you’re pushing it.” You deadpanned at him as your crossed your arms and tried not to laugh at Wilbur’s pout.

“Fine. I just won’t call you anything. I won’t even call you my fiancé!” Wilbur whined out as he looked away from you.

Hearing him say that word. Fiancé. Brought a whole other world into you. A whole other part of your life you get to experience, with him.

“Nooooo! No please! I’m sorry! Call me what you like!! See what I did there- please I’m sorry!” You whined out as you kissed all over his face, not a spot left untouched by your lips.

Wilbur laughed at the song reference as you continued to kiss his face. He placed his hands on your waist and squeezed. “Ok! Ok, fine. I will call you whatever I like. And I won’t stop calling you my fiancé. Well- not until we’re married. Because then I get to call you my wife. Oh! I get to call you my wife then! Can we just get married now?! Please-“

Wil! Wil! Calm down dear. We’ll get married when we can afford it. And plus I want our family and friends there. But for now-“ You ran your hands through his hair and rubbed his head as his eyes fluttered shut. “You can call me your fiancé or any other nickname you want.” You smiled at him as he looked at you. Wilbur leaned in and softly connected your lips together. The kiss wasn’t quick or rough. It was like Wilbur was summoning all of his love for you into one kiss. The kiss was soft, slow, and love-filled.

It was perfect.

Once you both needed air, Wilbur pulled away and panted softly as he smiled widely at you. “I love you. And I’m sorry for what happened and not telling you anything. I promise to tell you everything for now on, like i should’ve been doing.” Wilbur sighed and rubbed your waist lightly. “I love you.”

“And I love you. So much.” You smiled at him as you leaned in and kissed him again, but quickly pulling back before the kiss could go anywhere. “And what do you mean ‘like you should’ve been doing’?? I swear to god if you did something el-“

“Hey. None of it is bad. Maybe somethings I did with Tommy or the band that we kept secret, but nothing bad. Now shut up and kiss me.” Wilbur quickly reassured you as he pulled you back into him and kissed you again.

But you being the person you are, needed more answers. “No no no! Did- Did you and Tommy break the TV that one ti-“

“Darling. Love. Baby. Stop talking more kissing, ok? I want to show my fiancé how much I love them.” Wilbur quickly mumbled out as he started to kiss you again.

“Yeah but you have some explaining to do.” You mumbled out in between kisses.

“That depends if you even remember it after we’re done.” Wilbur says as he flips you over, so your back meets the couch, as he hovers over your frame.

“Oh, I will. But you can try to make me forget pretty boy.”

“Oh I certainly will.” Wilbur smirked as he leant down and pressed an intoxicating kiss onto your lips.

You were gonna have to try really hard to remember.

Taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @aimi-chann @z0vamp @art3m1s-adelia @bird-shack @mcr-pr-fob @hop-scotchh @romancingdaffodils @sixofshadowandbone (if you want to be added, all you have to do is ask or message me dears <3)

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: The members of Greta Van Fleet agree to do an interview with the Human Napkin himself, Nardwuar, and find themselves ridiculously unprepared for his interview style.

Words: 2k

Warnings: language, some sexual innuendos (kinda?), mentions of stalking, the void™️

Notes: Shoutout to @skywaydrifter for the amazing fic idea, and sending me down a wild Nardwuar binge-fest

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

Nardwuar theme plays with the animated intro video. The shot opens to show NARDWUAR standing in front of an impressive display of vinyl records, next to JOSH KISZKA. 

NARDWUAR: How are you?

Nardwuar shoves his microphone into Josh’s face. Josh flinches back a bit, but then leans into the microphone.

JOSH: Absolutely groovy. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me who you are. 

JOSH: That’s a bit of a loaded question. I’m a dreamer, a mere mortal, a man with a dream…

NARDWUAR: Your name. 

JOSH: Oh. Josh Kiszka. Frontman for the group, Greta Van Fleet. 

Josh curtsies to the camera.

NARDWUAR: Welcome to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And right off the bat, I have a gift for ya.   

JOSH puts a hand over his heart and looks at the camera in shock.

JOSH: Now I feel bad, I didn’t bring you anything. 

NARDWUAR (continued): I’ve got this 1966 album, All About Miriam. 

JOSH: (taking the album and cradling it in his arms) Oh my goodness.

NARDWUAR: I heard that you’re a fan. 

JOSH: Miriam Makeba? Oh yeah, she’s one of my favorites. My parents had a few of her albums that they would play all the time when I was younger. She’s got such a rich voice, I can only dream of sounding like that. 

NARDWUAR: But you do have a pretty distinct voice that I’m sure a lot of people are jealous of. How did you find that sound? 

JOSH: I started screaming and then I guess I kind of found my way, eventually. (chuckles) No, but actually, my vocal coach, Ron, I call him “The Master” because he genuinely saved my vocal cords. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. 

NARDWUAR: How do you do it? Is it special vocal warmups? Some kind of mystery technique? 

JOSH: Well, you see, if I told you, I’d have to kill you. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got another gift for you here, Josh. 

JOSH: Oh god, now I feel super bad. 

NARDWUAR: Costumes are a big part of your stage presence. Here, I’ve got a piece that might look familiar to you. 

Nardwuar holds out Josh’s infamous golden pants, and Josh reluctantly takes them.

JOSH: Oh boy, I forgot how shiny and see through these were. 

NARDWUAR: You wore these in the sweltering sun on the iHeart Radio festival stage in Las Vegas, Nevada on Saturday, September 22, 2018, didn’t you? 

JOSH: I’m not sure if these are the exact pair…

NARDWUAR: They are. 

JOSH: Huh? Did you dig them out of the dumpster or something? 

NARDWUAR: Now, Josh, can you tell me about Sean Reyes?

Josh looks at Nardwuar with intense skepticism.

JAKE: (offscreen) What the fuck? 

JOSH: Now how do you know about Sean Reyes? 

NARDWUAR: It’s Josh Kiszka trivia!

Josh squints at Nardwuar, uncertain.

JOSH: Sean Reyes was my third grade teacher. 

NARDWUAR: And he was the one who encouraged you to write poetry, right? 

JOSH: Yes…..

NARDWUAR: Like haikus? 

JOSH: Mr. Reyes would play a lot of folk stuff for us, like John Denver, Joni Mitchell, all the classics, and he could tell I really dug it. He pulled me aside after class, showed me some of his favorite lyrics, and explained how it was a form of poetry. I took that to heart and spent a lot of time outside of class writing poems after that.

NARDWUAR: Were they any good? 

JOSH: Well, some lines ended up in our songs, so you tell me. 

NARDWUAR: Well, I heard your twin brother behind the camera just now. Let’s bring him out here. Come here, Jake! 

JAKE joins Josh’s side in front of the camera, looking nervous. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding eye contact with Nardwuar.

NARDWUAR: Hello, Jake. 

JAKE: (short) Hi. 

NARDWUAR: I have a gift for you. 

JAKE: Uh, okay. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a poster from H.O.R.D.E. Festival at Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana featuring big names like Blues Traveler, The Black Crowes, and Taj Mahal from 1995. Something important happened at this festival, right? 

Jake pales.

JAKE: Uh. Uh. 

Josh is staring pretty hard at Nardwuar.

JAKE: (to Josh) There’s no way he knows about that. How could he know about that? 

Nardwuar sneaks the microphone closer into Jake’s mouth. 

NARDWUAR: Well? 

JAKE: Okay, uh, they might kill me for admitting this on camera, but my parents are pretty sure that’s where Josh and I were conceived. 

NARDWUAR: Do you like Taj Mahal? 

Jake struggles to rebound from that 180. 

JAKE: Um (beat) yeah. I’d list him as a big influence. 

NARDWUAR: And another gift for Jake Kiszka! 

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) This guy freaks me out. 

NARDWUAR: Here you go! 

Nardwuar tosses Jake a ziploc bag containing something brown. Jake’s reflexes get the better of him and he grabs the bag out of the air, and then blankly studies what’s in his hands. 

JAKE: What the actual fuck. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what you’re holding there! 

JAKE: Hair. It’s my hair. 

JOSH: What??

JAKE: I’m not even joking. This is what they chopped off, like, last year before our second leg of the Dreams in Gold Tour. 

JOSH: (growing defensive of his brother) Where did you get that from?

NARDWUAR: What was the reason for the big chop? 

JAKE: I could have sworn my hairdresser said she was going to donate that. 

NARDWUAR: Oh, she did. 

JAKE: I’m sorry, what? 

SAM bounds into the scene in front of the camera, looking energetic. 

SAM: This is fun! Do me now! 

NARDWUAR: Sam Kiszka! Alright, Jake. Thanks and doot doola doot doo…

JAKE: Huh? 

NARDWUAR: (finishing for Jake) Doo doo! (turns to Sam) I have a question for you. 

Sam is hopping from foot to foot and clapping his hands with glee while Jake confusedly wanders off camera.

SAM: Fire away! 

NARDWUAR: Your aunt works at State Farm in Chicago. 

DANNY: (offscreen) That’s not a question. 

JOSH: How could you possibly know that? 

NARDWUAR: Have you ever had to file a claim with her? 

SAM: Well, actually one time…

JOSH: Ssh! Don’t tell him anything. 

NARDWUAR: (entirely unbothered) I have a gift you might like, Sam! 

SAM: Oh my god! You guys aren’t gonna believe this. It’s my birth certificate! 

JOSH: What kind of interviewer are you?? 

NARDWUAR: I’m just a fan, guys, just a fan. I love your music! 

Sam’s phone rings. 

SAM: Whoops, sorry. I know this is unprofessional but, one sec. I gotta take this. 

Instead of going off camera to answer the phone in private like a normal person, Sam answers the phone and puts it on speaker. 

SAM (continued): Y’ello? 

KAREN: (obviously shaken) Sam? 

SAM: Hey Mom, what’s up? 

KAREN: Are you boys alright? 

Josh grabs the phone from Sam. 

JOSH: Mom? What’s going on? 

KAREN: Someone broke into our house while your dad and I were on our trip. We’re worried it might have been a stalker since they took a lot of your possessions and some important documents. 

JOSH: Oh my god, are you okay? 

KAREN: Fine, just a bit shaken up. But, I’m so sorry, they stole Sammy’s birth certificate. 

Sam calls into the phone over Josh’s shoulder.

SAM: Don’t worry about it, Mom! I just got it gifted back to me! 

Josh hands Sam his phone and rushes away. 

JOSH: (screaming offscreen) RICHARD! WE NEED BACKUP!

KAREN: I’m gonna have to call my sister to file a claim. They broke a crazy amount of our windows. Like, way more than they needed to. What a headache.

DANNY: (to Nardwuar) You have a lot of explaining to do. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got a gift for you, Daniel! 

Nardwuar pulls out a pack of old Beatles cards. 

DANNY: I don’t want it. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a pack of 1964 Beatles collector’s cards, in mint condition! 

DANNY: Wait, I do want it. 

Danny takes the cards from Nardwuar and looks at them with delight. 

NARDWUAR: You’re a big fan of the Beatles, right? 

DANNY: Oh yeah, I always have been.

JAKE: You’re not seriously continuing this interview. 

DANNY: (while opening and flipping through the pack of cards) I mean, this is a pretty cool gift. 

JAKE: (evidently at his wit’s end) This guy 100% broke into my family’s house, and he for sure did the same to your parents. 

NARDWUAR: Would you say there was a specific Beatles album that most inspired you? 

DANNY: Definitely Rubber Soul. I loved hearing them try folk. 

Jake throws up his hands in exasperation. 

DANNY: Norwegian Wood genuinely changed my life. 

NARDWUAR: In what way? 

JAKE: Nope, we’re not doing this anymore. 

Jake thrusts his finger up into Nardwuar’s face. 

JAKE (continued): What else did you take from us, you son of a bitch? 

NARDWUAR: Does it count as “taking” if I give it back to you? 

JAKE: Yes! 

NARDWUAR: I’d beg to differ. 

DANNY: (looking through his cards) Woah! I’ve never seen this photo of Ringo Starr before! 

Josh comes rushing back to the scene with their bodyguard and pal, RICHARD. 

RICHARD: (scanning around on full alert) Where is he? 

JOSH: (shrill, pointing at Nardwuar) There! 

Nardwuar simply grins at Richard. 

NARDWUAR: Can you tell me about Grubbyknot? 

Richard is obviously thrown off, and he lets down his guard. 

RICHARD: Huh? Grubbyknot? That was my metal band in high school. But we only played like two shows. One was in my parent’s garage. 

JOSH: Don’t let him get into your head, Richard! You’re our big guns, we can’t lose you! 

SAM: Do you have another gift for me, Nardwuar? 

Nardwuar stares at Sam, entirely expressionless. 

NARDWUAR: No, I don’t. Doot doola doot doo…

SAM: Doo-doo? 

Upon Sam’s words, he vanishes into thin air. Jake is so terrified, he falls to the ground and cowers on the floor. 

JAKE: Jesus Christ! 

NARDWUAR: I usually like to speak with only 1-2 people at a time on camera. It’s getting a little bit too crowded for me right now. 

Nardwuar looks at Danny, whose attention is finally away from his cards, and is gawking at the empty space where Sam was just standing. 

NARDWUAR: (continued, making eye contact with Danny) Doot doola doot doo…

Danny stares back at Nardwuar in horror, his mouth sealed shut. Nardwuar sings the little tune again, holding his microphone up to Danny to finish it. 

JAKE: (cutting in) Doo doo! (beat) Fuck! 

Jake disappears. 

JOSH: (explaining to Richard and Danny) He has this condition where he can’t handle hearing an unfinished tune. Poor guy has a curse.

NARDWUAR: Just one more to go. 

Nardwuar focuses his attention back to Danny. 

DANNY: Where did you send them? 

NARDWUAR: To another place. 

DANNY: Super helpful, thanks. 

NARDWUAR: Don’t mention it. 

DANNY: Are they still alive? 

NARDWUAR: I can’t see why not. I’m a fan! I wouldn’t hurt you guys. 

Danny sighs. 

DANNY: Okay. Send me away so I can do some damage control. 

RICHARD: No! 

NARDWUAR: Doot doola doot doo…

DANNY: (unenthused, clapping his hands on the beat) Doo doo.

Danny is gone. 

RICHARD: My boss is gonna kill me. 

JOSH: I’m pretty sure I’m your boss. 

Richard widens his eyes and holds his hands up in a defensive position, backing slowly away from Josh. 

JOSH (continued): Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, Richard. 

RICHARD: You did dump an entire bag of flour over my head that one time. And kicked that giant chocolate bar in my hands. And swung a folding chair at me backstage. 

JOSH: All tiny, insignificant hiccups.

NARDWUAR: Josh, you’re gonna love this next thing that I’ve got for you. 

JOSH: Please, no. 

Nardwuar hands Josh a Scooby Doo plushie. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what that is. 

Josh studies the stuffed animal, trying to discern how it has any relevance to him. 

JOSH: Scooby Doo? 

NARDUWAR: What was that second word?

JOSH: Doo?

NARDWUAR: Wait. Say it again? (under his breath) Doot doola doot doo…

JOSH: Doo? 

Nardwuar taps on his ear, signaling that he didn’t hear Josh. Josh huffs and rolls his eyes. 

JOSH (continued, enunciating maybe a little bit too much): Doo! 

Josh disappears. 

NARDWUAR: Well, this has been fun. Keep on rockin’ in the free world and doot doola doot doo…

It’s silent around him since there’s no one there to finish his jingle. Nardwuar continues to grin wider and wider until he’s nearing uncomfortably close to uncanny valley. 

The scene shifts to a confusing plane seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. A pattern reminiscent of Nardwuar’s red and green plaid Tammy cap stretches from the floor to the sky. Josh and Richard appear in the mysterious space, Josh screaming with terror. 

JAKE: Hey. 

DANNY: Nice of you to join us. 

It takes a while for Josh to collect himself but, when he does, he notices Jake and Danny standing in front of him. 

JOSH: Where’s Sammy? 

DANNY: He went to take a piss. 

RICHARD: Hey, wait, I didn’t say the doo doo thing. Why am I here? 

Josh shrugs. 

JOSH: We must be a package deal or something. 

RICHARD: That’s wildly unfair. 

SAM: (off in the distance) Woah, I had a lot more in my bladder than I thought. I wouldn’t come over here if I were you, guys. I can cross “building a manmade lake” off my bucket list.

JAKE: God, I need to get out of here. 

DANNY: And how are we gonna do that, Jake? 

Jake has no clue. He’s frankly dumbfounded. 

The scene jumps back to Nardwuar, still in front of the records. He seems unaware that the camera is still rolling. 

NARDWUAR: (to someone offscreen) Yeah, yeah. They should be gone for good. Yup. The plaid void, where I sent Dave Rowntree. We should be good to steal their identities now. God knows we’ve done enough research. 

Back in the plaid void. 

DANNY: Holy shit, is that Dave Rowntree?

RICHARD: The guy from Blur? 

DAVE ROWNTREE: CURSE YE FOUL BEAST, NARDWUAR! 

Fin.  

Note: The names/facts listed in the interview within this fic are all entirely fictitious. I'm not about to start leaking private and personal information about the guys.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Late Nights Under the Stars

Fem!Reader

Summary: Two-night owls flirt under the stars before heading to bed to get some sleep.

Words: 711

AN: I haven’t posted a fic since July 2021. uhhhh crochet took over me a bit. But I swear I’ve been writing in the background. I’ve been trying to write a fic for this man since he was announced as a real character and not just an npc.

"How long have you been sitting out here?"

Y/N turned her head around looking behind herself to see Ayato standing behind her. He was already dressed for bed. It felt like a first. Usually, Y/N was asking Ayato how long he had been sitting at his desk.

"I couldn't sleep. I just felt too warm and cramped up in the room. I've just been staring at the sky trying to map out the stars. I think the only thing I've been able to map is where the moon is."

Ayato smiled, shaking his head. He sat next to Y/N on the stairs of the Kamisato Estate. "Has it helped to clear your mind?"

"A little bit. I think it reminded me how small we are in the grand scheme of everything. With all the stars in the sky you know there are probably planets circling those stars." Y/N was focused on the sky once again. "I mean just think about it. We can't be alone in the universe since there's Lumine. I just wonder how many worlds there are out there."

"So in other words, it has not helped you clear your mind." 

"Yeah." Y/N laid her head against Ayato’s shoulder.

Ayato put an arm around her, pulling her close. "It's good I came out here. I think you would have started an existential crisis in Thoma."

"Just Thoma? Not Ayaka?"

"Yes. Ayaka would have dragged you back inside already the moment you started rambling."

Y/N laughed. "Oh, would she now?"

"She's forced me to rest more times than the stars you've been counting. You can only protest her so much." Ayato spoke from experience yet proud of her behavior.

"So what would she do if she found us out here?"

"Maybe say I'm being a bad influence on you."

"I don't think you are being a bad influence. I've always been a night owl. I'd still be doing this even without you here. I think whoever I ended up with would have to deal with me being like this."

Ayato laughed. "You make it sound like it's a burden."

"I didn't mean to make it sound like a burden. I'm just tired. I can't word right at the moment."

"Let's get you to bed then. As much as I love all sides of you. I don't think the world is ready for such poetry of 'Can't word right'. You might be considered a genius and then how would I be able to see you then?" Ayato stood up and held a hand out.

Y/N took his hand helping her get off the seat of the stairs. "I'd run away every night, crawl next to you in bed and tell you how much of a nuisance it is to have the world consider you a genius."

Ayato didn't let go of her hand as they walked to the front door of the estate. "And what if you were sent off to another country?"

"I would make them think I'm so lovesick that they would ship me back home. And when I set foot back in Inazuma I would tell them they fell for my trap. Cause I do my best thinking with you."

"Sounds convincing to me." Ayato opened up the door to the estate letting Y/N walk in before himself. He closed the door behind him making sure it was locked before continuing on to their shared room.

"Perfect. Even though I don't think anyone would mistake me for a genius it's good to have a plan in place."

"Not sure. You're already planning ahead for theatricals. Exactly what a genius would do."

Y/N laughed. "Of course, you would know that. Must you forget, my only talents have been anything but traditional book smarts? I was made for the arts."

"Still requires some sort of brains. Even then it's easy to tell you were made for the arts when you look like someone brought a wood carving to life."

"And you say I need sleep. I think you're trying to romance me all over again."

"And if I am?"

"Then I feel bad for whoever overhears you flirt because I'm not stopping you." Y/N had planted a kiss on his cheek before heading towards their bedroom.

“I would hope not.”

[achilleean]

Poetic Nonsense

A/N: My Squealing Santa fic for @vampiretickles (only slightly belated) – I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Based off of the prompt, "Admitting they like/want to be tickled" with Jon and Martin. Shoutout to @squealing-santa for facilitating one of the best events of the year <3

Summary: Martin gets sabotaged by a poem, a craving, and Jon's stupid mind reading powers.

Words: 1.3k

Martin was changing his mind: tickling could be used to torture him, even if not in the traditional way. Not torture by tickling, no – as long as it was with the right people without ill intention, he found it too fun and giddying for that – but torture by tickle withholding... as Jon was in the middle of discovering.

“You can literally read my mind!” Martin said indignantly, a hint of desperation seeping in.

“So?”

“So, I don’t get why I have to say it, when you know perfectly well I do!”

“‘Do’ what?” Jon’s usual academically curious tone didn’t hide his mischief in the slightest.

“Jon!”

They’d each just been reading — Jon, a complicated historical novel, and Martin, a book of poetry — next to each other in bed peacefully. Nothing had even happened to start the whole debacle. Except that Martin had gotten to a stanza set on describing a playful tickle between lovers. Feeling the unbearable sparkles of sensation, the lightning shocks of vulnerability (as the poem referred to it), being counteracted by the trust and affection for their partner and resolving in indignant delight. A joyous memory worth writing about, creating art in homage to.

And suddenly, his brain was crowded with the idea of that, the speaker in the poem, being him. Not with the speaker’s partner of course. With his partner. Jon.

Who was so close Martin could feel his warmth.

And, right on cue, Jon turned his head to look at Martin.

It was neither of their faults that, despite Jon not actively using his powers to look into Martin’s mind, a particularly strong thought about him could still make it through like an emergency alert on a silenced phone. The recognition and smothered eagerness in Jon’s eyes told Martin this was one such instance, and when Jon found a bookmark and set his book aside, Martin knew he was screwed.

But that had been two whole torturous minutes ago. Jon was still simultaneously playing oblivious and teasing with his Knowledge instead of just doing it already.

"Really, I can tell something's on your mind," Jon prodded again. "What is it?"

“You’re the worst,” Martin complained into his forearms, balled up with his knees to his chest. “The absolute worst. Just awful. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” Maybe, he thought, if he kept blathering on, it would distract (both Jon and himself) from how damn flustered this was starting to make him. Maybe if he griped long enough, Jon would get tired of it and/or show some mercy and put him out of the pseudo-misery that was being made to wait just to wind up and embarrass him.

But Jon just raised an eyebrow at him and propped his chin on a fist, in it for the long haul. Fuck.

“I’m never going to make you tea again.”

“Why’s that?”

The all-knowing Jonathan Sims of all people playing dumb like this was infuriating. They both knew he knew. He was doing this purely to make Martin squirm and blush red-hot.

“Very true,” Jon said, a smug grin valiantly trying to overtake his passive expression.

Martin groaned. It was even meaner that Jon wasn’t even pretending not to have a front row seat for Martin’s every flustered thought (to which he was now actively listening), yet wouldn’t acknowledge the one that really mattered.

“I don’t deserve this,” Martin whined.

“Probably not. Still fun.”

Martin just groaned again and flopped uselessly against Jon’s side. Both for a bit of cover to hide his embarrassment (at least the visible signs of it) and to see if he could make Jon physically uncomfortable enough to do something about it.

“I’ve been through far too many genuinely torturous situations to be convinced of anything by you laying on top of me,” Jon said, smirk even more audible in his voice than before.

There was that word again, torturous. Martin was being tortured right now.

“If it’s so torturous, why are you having so much fun with it?”

“I am not.”

“I’ll drop it, if you really want.”

No, that was worse! The idea of all this teasing without any of the follow through was downright cruel.

“You’re making me feel like a bad partner,” Jon laughed, not an ounce of genuine concern in his voice.

“Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Responding to my thoughts without—” Martin could only end his sentence with a noise of wordless complaint. After all, if he could just say it, he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

Jon shifted to be facing Martin a bit more, and Martin couldn’t help but shrink back a little as a nervous-excited thrill rushed through him. Was the wait finally over?

“Without what, Martin?”

Apparently not.

“Without… listening to the important one,” Martin tried.

“You could just use your words.” Jon’s pleasant tone could only do so much to offset the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Scootching a bit a way from Jon, Martin grabbed a pillow to hug for… protection? comfort? It didn’t matter. Didn’t change what he was nervously hoping for.

“I don’t see why I should have to,” he groused, hoping it’d conceal his bashfulness (as if his body language wasn't already projecting it loud and clear).

“We’ve been over this. It’s fun.” When Jon leaned down to kiss Martin’s temple, Martin had to actively fight to not shrink away more. How was he this flustered over something so ridiculous? He wanted to crawl under the covers and never be seen again. Or better, be tickled until all thoughts of embarrassment left his head.

But that meant he had to ask for it.

Jon’s demeanor shifted. “I want to hear you say it out loud,” he said, gentler, “just one time?” It was like he was asking for permission. Like he’d cave even if Martin couldn’t do it, should this go on for much longer.

No, Martin was not going to be rendered useless by one silly request, especially one which he knew would be well received. He could do this.

Jon smiled encouragingly. “Yes, you can.”

Shut up!

Martin squeezed his eyes shut and gathered his willpower. “I’d… kind of like it if you… tickled me a bit, at some point,” he managed.

“‘A bit’? ‘At some point’?” Jon teased, knowing the truth.

Something in him finally snapped. “Fine, Jon, I’d like it if you tickled me. Happy?”

Fully grinning now, Jon snatched the pillow from Martin’s grasp (Martin hadn’t been holding it very tightly) and tossed it off the bed. He got on his knees, looming over. His fingers flexed and crooked into claws in preparation. “Very.”

–– Epilogue ––

“Did you know I can hear little lines of poetry forming in your head when I do that?" Jon said. "During the teasing, mostly, it usually all goes out the window the second I touch you.”

Martin couldn’t decide which half of that contributed to his blush more. Thankfully, it was hidden with the way he was flopped over half in Jon's lap, finally done giggling but still breathless after the (admittedly very fun) tickle attack he'd gone through so much grief to ask for. Yeah, okay, fine, his mind had a way of framing things that gave him big feelings in a poetic way. Especially ones that made him happy. And what about it?

Picking up on the hint of embarrassment, Jon smoothed over Martin's hair fondly and softened his tone. “It’s very nice. I like that you like it so much.”

“Shut upppp,” Martin grumbled into Jon’s thigh, not really wanting him to at all.

“I will when you stop thinking about it so much.” And a kiss was placed atop his head.

Martin did end up with several lines for a poem of his own by the time he fell asleep in Jon’s lap like that. Which would be perfect for Jon to tease him about more later.

[firewoodfigs]

Random ask weekend: Where were you and what were you doing the last time you had a moment of inspiration for your writing or poetry? :)

hi friend!!! thanks for the ask—i hope that your week is off to a gentle start as fall dapples its colour on us 🩵

i think the biggest lightning bolt moment over the weekend was when i was hanging out at a friend’s and we were all losing it after 4 hours of nonstop karaoke and this idea for a song bridge just STRUCK me out of nowhere 😂 i was literally half-drunk on a massage chair and was like “omg girl could you pass me my phone” and started furiously tapping away and recording whispers, and my friend who peered over my shoulder went “ah. i see. it’s wall of text time” 😆 i also got inspired to finish a poem that i’m writing for a friend who’s currently planting potatoes in arizona after we spoke on the phone :)

as for my fics—inspiration really does strike at the most inopportune times because i’m usually stuck in the office when it happens 😭 i end up writing bits and bobs on my phone and try to piece it together after haha. i hardly ever write fics on my computer anymore because i literally spend hours on it daily agonising over whatever i have to do, so the thought of having to sit in front of a big screen and do it all over again (even for a different kind of writing) can be quite off-putting and sometimes nauseating ngl 😂 i’ve tried to switch to writing on paper instead, but a. carpal tunnel and b. my handwriting speed sometimes can’t keep up with what runs through my mind and when i try to write it out it more often than not ends up an illegible scrawl and i’ll be like squinting and thinking “what did i even write here…?” 😂 all in all it is a hot mess and sometimes i just maladaptively daydream instead LMAO.

have a wonderful week, my friend!!! enjoy pumpkin season and the crunchy foliage and stay warm and toasty 🥰💕💕

[mypoisonedvine]

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash.  luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you.  rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.  

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie.  he’s just a hot dad.  don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there.  With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door. 

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in.  But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform.  Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that… 

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug.  "Hey!" you greeted in return.  

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door.  "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime?  Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10.  It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day.  "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow.  You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket.  But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno.  Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began.  You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.  

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too.  You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone.  You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice.  You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now.  Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up.  He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way.  Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating.  It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for.  It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little.  It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded.  “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine.  Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new.  “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently.  There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm.  Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed.  “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan.  “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it.  Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured.  “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could.  You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this.  Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned.  “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach.  "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say.  "Yeah?  I can do that," he decided.  "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped.  Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord.  You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck.  "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished.  "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts.  You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace.  "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly.  "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly.  It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.  

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you.  Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours.  You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted.  Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top.  He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other.  Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little.  It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.  

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind. 

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed.  You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did. 

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you.  Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them.  He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too.  Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him.  Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly.  “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.  

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you.  “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt.  “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.  

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt.  He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists.  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much?  There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you.  It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes. 

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating.  You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.  

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.  

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood.  Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly.  "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt.  Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you.  You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state.  You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open.  “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers.  It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature.  How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars.  Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode.  Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand.  It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder.  You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath.  He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured.  You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it.  “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves.  Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno.  Or, Marcus.  You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.  

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain.  The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter.  "I'm gonna move now," he announced.  You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.  

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again.  Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for.  But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.  "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back.  "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it.  Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin.  You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound.  "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse.  "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips.  You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them.  It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there.  You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity.  Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent.  "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah?  Go ahead," he encouraged.  "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level.  It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.  

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you.  It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate.  You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there.  Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.  

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control.  You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever.  So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement.  "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night.  Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs?  Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.  

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought.  "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged.  With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck.  In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards.  But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.  “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent.  We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

[plant-flwrs]

Heyy!! I wish you would write a fic where Fred is lowkey really into Shakespear and Romeo and Juliet and tries to woo the reader cs she’s muggleborn? Idk but it would be so cute!! 🥺

romeo and juliet // fred weasley

masterlist!

summary: Fred reads Romeo and Juliet and can’t help but fall in love

a/n: schools out, so hopefully that means more time for writing! thanks for the request anon i thought it was adorable, hope you like it!!

(2.5k)

At first, it was a secret. Fred had no intention of actually enjoying it. He had simply accepted the book Professor Lupin had lent him, thumbed through it, and stayed up all night to read it by accident.

Maybe it was because Lupin had seen the way Fred looked at you across the class, separated by hidden bloodlines and upbringings. You, with your muggle pens that you smuggled in. You, with your muggle records you used an entire bag to carry onto the train. You, with your muggle magazines that spread through the common room like wildfire. You, with those weird little things called cigarettes that you sold in your third year to the older students. You, with the way the older pureblood witches would sit and ask you to do their hair for them because only you could do all the newest muggle styles. You, with your reluctance to Quidditch but your love for soccer.

Fred was gone, absolutely gone for you. He was even more behind than usual in class because he couldn't help but find you with his eyes, no matter the room you were in or the distance between you both. Remus Lupin, the secret romantic, asked Fred to stay after class.

"Mr. Weasley," Professor Lupin called, feet kicked up on his desk while he levitated a novel wandlessly in front of him. A half-eaten apple rested on a napkin beside a chocolate wrapper and Fred was forced to remember the breakfast he had barely eaten, choosing to instead pretend he hadn't noticed the fact you had only sat a few seats away.

Fred stood in front of Lupin's desk, waiting as the room emptied out and George shot him a wink from the doorway.

"Yes, Professor?" Fred rocked on his feet, hands stuffed in the pockets of his robe. He tried not to wonder if you had noticed that he had been called behind, or if you had noticed him at all. He vaguely registered that this might what his brother would call 'pathetic'.

"You never turned in that essay on wandless defenses," Lupin said slowly, the book moving to rest on his desk as he moved his feet to the ground.

Fred was quiet, biting the inside of his cheek as he couldn't seem to recall the last time a teacher had bothered to talk to him about his assignments instead of deeming him a 'lost cause' or a student who 'simply wouldn't apply themselves'.

Professor Lupin sighed, moving again to stand. Fred thought he caught a flash of pain on the professor's face, perhaps a wince as he stood, but the moment was gone before Lupin was giving Fred a calculating and sympathetic glance.

"Do you need an extension?" Remus offered, leaning his hip against the desk and inclining his head to show Fred the importance of this offering.

"I'd appreciate that, Professor," Fred admitted.

They were silent again, Remus still looking at Fred like he was something to figure out. Remus shifted, eyes dropped to his desk and lips lifting.

"What's got you so preoccupied?"

Fred was blushing before he could think of a lie, and then he realized he didn't want to lie. He hadn't even told George about his crush on you- no doubt it was obvious. Fred had had flings and crushes on loads of girls, all fun and easy, but this felt heavier. He didn't want to have a fling with you.

"I guess-" Fred sighed, removing his hands from his robes and wiping them on his trousers, "I've just been distracted recently. A lot on my mind."

"Ah," Remus smiled fondly, nodding slowly.

A book began to move from a pile in the corner, elegantly and easily avoiding the tall stacks of clutter and various lumps of papers to levitate to Fred. Fred reached out for it, moving it in his hand to read the cover. Romeo and Juliet.

"I'll make you a deal, Fred," Professor Lupin said, his voice sounding so mischievous that Fred was surprised he hadn't become ten years younger right in front of him. "You can either write the essay on wandless defenses, or you can read that and write an essay on 'Romeo and Juliet'."

Fred thumbed through the book, eyebrows furrowed. He had never liked reading, most of the books at the Burrow belonged to Bill, Percy, or his father. He was pretty sure that George would find Fred reading Shakespeare to be just as funny as the time they released Cornish Pixies in the Slytherin changing rooms.

"Yeah, alright."

Fred managed to eat dinner that night, with you safely at the opposite end of the table. The curtains to his fourposter had been closed for hours and the light from his wand had been steadily bright for just as long. He had gone from laying on his back, head propped up beneath his arms, to resting his back against the headboard, to sitting upright in the center of his bed, head propped on his fist, to laying on his stomach, to laying on his back again with his head at the foot of his bed, and soon enough, the sun was flooding through a crack in the curtains. He had just finished Romeo and Juliet when he heard the showers starting.

"Lupin!"

Remus stopped and watched Fred catch up to him. He looked tired and simultaneously wide awake, his hair was a mess, and Remus was almost certain that he was wearing his pajama pants beneath his school robes.

"Mr. Weasley," Remus said cordially, continuing his walk to the greenhouse.

"I wanted to talk to you about that book you lent me-"

"Oh, you can keep it, if you'd like. I've read it dozens of times."

Fred hesitated, a wide smile spreading over his face, "Oh, thanks, Professor! It's just, I wanted to tell you I really liked it."

"You've finished it, then?" Remus asked with an impressed smile.

"Read it last night," Fred admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

"I look forward to the essay, then," Lupin said with a kind smile and a nod, turning into the greenhouses and leaving Fred in the corridor.

Inside his robes, he felt the weight of the tiny book against his chest. He kept it in a pocket there, fingers itching to hold it and read it again.

He couldn't help the roaring thoughts in his head. The idea that you were his Juliet, that you and he could find a hidden love, just for you two, amongst your external differences. He was oddly disappointed by the ending and decided he might not completely finish the book if he read it again, perhaps pretend it ended differently. He leaned his back against the stone wall behind him, fighting a blushing smile from his face.

So, Fred loved Shakespeare in secret. He loved reading in secret. He loved the weight of the book in his hands in secret. He loved the words and the phrases in secret. He loved the way it made him think in secret. He loved you in secret. He loved in secret.

Until you started dating Thomas Meadowbrooke. Thomas was a Ravenclaw, wickedly smart, handsome, kind, and the victim of many of the Weasley twins' pranks for a while. George didn't directly ask Fred why they were suddenly pranking this one boy so relentlessly all of a sudden, but he didn't need to.

Thomas wore blazers with patches on the elbows and combed his silky hair down the middle. He always had a flower in his coat pocket to give to you and he always carried a book of poetry with him. He was sensitive and wistful in all the ways girls loved, including you.

You thought Thomas was painfully boring. He would fawn over you in the most annoying ways, giving you poems that he wrote (horrendously awful, they were) and quoting lines from old and boring books to you. He didn't listen to Joan Jett or Janis Joplin and he cringed when you played your records. He suggested Bach or Debussy instead. He was boring.

You had only agreed to go out with him because he asked. Thomas Meadowbrooke may have been able to put a cornish pixie to sleep just by talking to it, but he was undeniably handsome. Well, he was more handsome before he had fallen victim to a particularly entertaining Weasley twin prank that turned his hair gelled and spiked up for a few days.

You broke up with Thomas soon after. He took it well, saying it gave him fuel to finish some poetry he hadn't been inspired enough for before.

Remus heard this gossip quite excitedly.

"She did, did she?" Remus tilted his head, a coy smirk on his lips.

The smell of fertilizer was strong, but he learned not to mind it as he watched the merry witch digging in various pots.

"He was quite heartbroken, the poor thing. Filius said that when he did routine bed checks, he could hear Thomas crying for weeks!" Professor Sprout sighed, patting down the soil and checking for weeds.

"Teen romance is always quite fickle," Remus commented, following Pomona as she moved to the next pot.

"Says you!" Pomona playfully scolded Remus, her red cheeks filling as she smiled.

Remus chuckled, thinking back to Sirius who would sneak into his office later to distract him from grading papers.

"You know, Pomona," Remus said in that voice of his, the one that got Sprout to drop her trowel and lean in close to hear the latest gossip. "I think Fred Weasley's got a bit of a crush on Y/n."

Pomona gasped, dirty hand flying to cover her mouth. She paused, scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out to spit out the clump of dirt.

"He hasn't!" she continued, not minding Remus' amused smile and the clean rag he offered her to wipe her hands.

"He's always staring at her," Remus said, thinking on it. "I reckon he's quite the secret romantic."

Pomona cooed and awed as she continued to tend to her plants, she and Remus trading anymore gossip that they could think of.

The weather changed at quite a convenient time for Fred. With the slightly warm but still a bit chilled fall weather, Fred could dawn his lighter coats. His lighter coats that happened to have wonderfully shaped pockets on the inside, just the right size for a book.

Fred wondered if you had gone out with Thomas because Ravenclaw book nerds were your type, or if you had broken up with him because Ravenclaw book nerds weren't your type. Fred had spent almost all of the warm weather contemplating how he was going to continue to live if he was determined to remain secretly in love with you. By fall he had figured it out.

Fred wasn't going to hide anything, not the books he had recently begun to love, or the way he loved so strongly. He wasn't going to miss meals because you were so distracting. He wasn't going to suffocate under his crush on you.

It was a beautiful day. George was up in the dorms with Lee working on a prank and Fred had decided to take a walk down to the Black Lake. His lighter coat was a bit heavier because of the book in the pocket, and Fred pushed his hair out of his eyes as he looked down at the ground to avoid stepping on tree roots. He found a nice spot beneath a tree, resting against the trunk and reading.

"Hey, Fred," a voice called, coming closer as they easily avoided the maze of tree roots.

Fred looked up to see you, in those perfect muggle clothes you wore any chance you could, hair styled in that wonderful muggle way, one of those muggle cigarettes tucked behind your ear, walking towards him.

"Hey," he responded, surprised by how easy his voice sounded.

"Have you been reviewing at all for Lupin's?" You sat next to Fred like it was the easiest thing in the world, brushing your shoulder against his.

"No, not really," Fred closed his book with his thumb tucked between the pages saving his spot.

"Mmm," you hummed, leaning your head back against the tree and closing your eyes. "What're you reading?"

"Romeo and Juliet," Fred replied, looking at your profile while he had the chance.

"Didn't think that was your thing," you said playfully, opening one eye to catch Fred looking at you.

He flushed and turned his gaze to his hands in his lap. "Me neither," he admitted, swallowing.

"I always liked ‘The Taming of the Shrew’, personally."

Fred smiled to himself, because of course, you had also read Shakespeare, and of course, you would have a cool favorite.

"I like that one, too," Fred said lamely, enjoying the way you were smiling at him.

By winter, Fred had devised a plan. It was perfect, more perfect than any prank he had created or any Zonko's product he had bought. He would die if he kept all this love to himself, so he decided all he needed was one kiss.

The Yule Ball was in full swing, the classical and slow music long forgotten as everyone moved to the dance floor and rocked to the loud and fast rhythm. Fred had seen you when you first arrived, noticing with glee that you were alone, and hadn't lost sight of you since. He had removed himself from the heavily crowded dance floor, stumbling to the table with the juice he and George had spiked hours earlier. He loosened the collar of his robes and pushed his already disheveled hair out of his face.

You watched Fred move through the crowd like a tornado, a mass of energy that you felt required to look at and admire. He strode to the table, a quiet and self-satisfied smirk on his lips as he took a long sip of punch.

Fred caught you staring at him with pleasant unexpectedness. You looked just as beautiful as you did when the night started, skin glowing and everything dawned upon you with your magical muggle-ness. Fred put his cup down, a comfortable pink hue warming his cheeks, and approached you. He touched his hand to yours.

"Hey, Fred," you said with an entertained smirk, glancing down at his hand on yours.

"I need you to do me a favor," he slurred, voice easy and breath warm as it landed on your skin.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need you to kiss me," Fred pulled his mouth away from your ear, looking to your face.

He didn't have much of an opportunity, though, before your lips were on his and you stole his breath. He tasted of the spiked punch and his hands were trembling and careful as they rested on your waist. You grabbed a fistful of his robes, pulling him close to you with urgency.

He pulled away, lips red and swollen, with his eyes still closed.

"I need you to do me a favor," you said, mouth hovering above his.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me," you whispered, just loud enough for Fred to hear.

He listened, and held onto you with less trembling and more confidence as you kissed for the second time.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Who is She: Part 1🌙

summary: two weeks before Aaron arrives a sliver of peace turns into longing.

pairing: Zira (black!fem!oc), Jillian Daly x Maggie Daly (fem!lesbian!ocs)

warnings: feelings, internal angst

an: meet my baby, Zira, all by herself with a sprinkle of interaction with two of my favs. all poetry written in this fic is original. i hope y’all enjoy getting to know Z a little better. song inspo is requiem by nicholas britell.

word count: 726

series masterlist | playlist (in progress)

Zira wakes early, knowing that the guests of the b&b will soon be up as well. She wants her sliver of peace, a moment to only be with herself before starting the work day. The days don’t always start this early but its Wednesday, which means that she’s teaching a novice flower arrangement class in the garden at noon. It doesn’t give her much time to do much of anything between breakfast and her shift at the front desk. So here she is, 5:30 a.m. on a Wednesday, pulling herself out of bed.

She showers quickly, having detangled her hair and put it into two plaits last night. Stepping out onto her balcony she feels that it's unseasonably cool for a July morning. She does linger despite the cold, looks out across the fields and fields of green dotted with cottages. There’s a castle on the edge of the mountains in the distance, one she likes to bike to and she makes a mental note to make a trip during the upcoming weekend before stepping back inside. She steps into an olive green dress and drapes a white knit cardigan around her shoulders before slipping her feet into sandals. As she does her skincare she looks at herself in the mirror, chuckling to herself. She finds it funny that she was living such a peaceful life so far away from Atlanta, her hometown, and her bullshit past.

The silence that hovers throughout the halls of the bed and breakfast is welcome as she quietly makes her way downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Well don’t you just look swell!” Maggie says sweetly, earning a bump on the hip from Zira.

“Okay now you’re just doin’ it to piss me off!” Jillian glares at Zira playfully.

“Jilly, its only 6 a.m. keep it down.” Maggie admonishes gently, sweeping a hand over her shoulder.

“Its only 6 a.m. and she comes in here all put together. I’ve just rolled out of bed, my hair’s all manky and I could down enough coffee to power a small militia.”

“Well maybe if you went to sleep for once.” Zira quips back.

“This place isn’t gonna run itself.”

“But you don’t have to work yourself to the bone.”

“Aren’t you here to get coffee so that you can go work yourself to the bone over the computer before your actual job?”

“Writing is first and foremost a hobby, something I enjoy and something that helps me cope. It’s not work, it’s passion.”

“Well said Zig.” Maggie pipes in finally with some support, ignoring when Jillian rolls her eyes.

“Thank you Mags, I’ll be back.” Zira holds up her cup to them before exiting and heading back up to her room.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon when she makes it back to her room, warm cup of coffee in hand. Powering up her laptop, she drains her mug before cracking her knuckles and typing away. It’s a messy process of filling the page and emptying it. Her fingers twirl the end of a braid, her lips pursed in frustration as she stares at the poem half-finished. She stares, and stares, and stares until it hits her, her fingers flying across the keys at the speed of light.

and what would i give?

if it meant that i could find a home in a person.

a solace in a living breathing human.

would i give up my home in myself?

bit by bit would they not fill me instead?

no, i couldn’t.

not when love is so frail

slipping through our fingers

like burnt paper

that’s turned to ash.

when proclamations and feelings so dear cycle with the moon.

what would i give?

if not myself,

if not my home then what?

will it be enough?

When she finishes typing and reads it through a handful of times, she’s happy to have finally finished a piece of work. It’s been weeks of writer's block. She needs this win though it’s short lived. She reads through it again and it leaves her feeling safe, but a bit hopeless. The push and pull of wanting companionship has been her struggle for so long. She’s tired of writing about it, tired of crying and thinking about it. It never resolves anything, it just makes her feel like this. Safe in her stuck.

tagged: @laurensprentiss, @jaspxr, @angelfxllcm, @ssahotchie, @sadgirlml, @rousethemouse, @chelseyjoyce, @hotchs-bitch

[agere-fandom-time]

Hi hi!! Can I gets a fic with toddler regressor! Midoriya izuku going nonverbal during an outing and lowkey regressing but he doesnt know what's happening and he just kind of rolls with it and the rest of 1-A's just like "whelp, looks like we've got a toddler on our hands??" Idk idk but yeah. Please n thankies

I loved this idea so much. Here is your fanfiction!! Mainly featuring Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Asui as the caregivers, with brief appearances from most of Class 1-A but I couldn’t fit everyone in. Also some Dadzawa, of course. 

Can be read below the 'read more’ or here on AO3.

Content Warnings: Sensory overload, non-verbal regression, briefly mentioned fear of Bakugou, involuntary regression in public. 

-Mod Stella

Izuku had always enjoyed shopping with his class.

Of course, now that they had moved into the dorms, there were new rules. A teacher had to come with them, and the students were required to stay in groups of three at all times. They had gone shopping in chaotic groups in their first year, but now leaving campus was an entire event, filled with paperwork and anticipation.

Today, Izuku sat in the middle of the bus between Ochako and Shouto, discussing their math homework. Around them, the rest of 1-A was humming with gossip and excitement as the city sped by outside the bus. Eventually, the conversation turned to specific questions, and all three pulled out their notebooks to compare their answers.

Kaminari wandered over to check on Ochako’s answers, earing him a smack on the head from Kirishima.

“Dude, come one, cheating is totally uncool!”

“I was just checking my answer,” Kaminari pouted, rubbing his head. “I wanted to know if I got question three right!”

“Bring your notebook over,” said Izuku. “The more the merrier!”

By the time they reached the mall, half of the class had their notebooks out and were arguing about the bonus question.

“Not to discourage you from schoolwork, but we could have stayed on campus if you wanted a study session,” Aizawa called from the front of the bus as the doors opened.

“We’re here!” Mina cried, shoving her notebook into her backpack and bolting for the door without zipping up her bag. Izuku could see her through the bus windows as the rest of the class followed her, bouncing impatiently in place as she waited for them. Izuku joined the line outside the bus, waiting for Aizawa to check the class numbers and announce the groups for today.

“Alright, pick your own trios today. Feel free to travel in groups of six, but don’t be a pain for the other people at the mall. Behave while you’re here.” Aizawa’s glare travelled across the class, and Izuku nodded furiously. He wasn’t going to cause any trouble this time!

Izuku was so busy nodding that he almost missed when people started mingling to form trios. He quickly located his nearest friend, which was Shouto, and walked towards him. It looked like he had already paired up with Tokoyami and they were just waiting for a third.

“Mind if I join you guys?” Izuku asked, hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack as he got closer.

“You are welcome,” Tokoyami said. Shouto simply nodded and shifted his body to include Izuku in their little circle.

“Cool, thanks!” Izuku took his place with them, watching the rest of the class divide themselves. Most of them were split by gender, having discovered that the boys and girls tended to shop in different places. Aoyama and Mina were the exception to the rule, an inseparable shopping duo. Hagakure had joined them today, and the three were already planning their route through the mall with loud enthusiasm.

“Do you guys need to visit any clothes stores? I’ve gone through, like, ten pairs of socks since our last trip, but I’m okay aside from that,” Izuku admitted. “I’d love to check out the new All Might figurines, I think the games store carries them here…” His trio started to plan their trip with far less fanfare than Aoyama’s.

“You have until five,” Aizawa called into the noise of the class. “Text me if there’s trouble, I’ll be in the food court keeping an eye out.”

“Yes sensei,” the class chorused. Finally free, they filed into the mall in an exuberant crowd.

Izuku, Shouto, and Tokoyami ended up in the bookstore first, trailing each other to their preferred sections (Izuku the manga, Shouto the poetry, and Tokoyami the historical fiction, which Izuku wouldn’t have guessed). All three of them found something to take home and they re-entered the main hallway of the mall with new bags hanging on their arms.

Excited as Izuku was to read his new magazine, the sound of the mall was starting to grate on him. The lights were slightly too bright, and the rustle of plastic bags clashed with the incessant noise of the crowd. People rushed past each other, occasionally brushing against Izuku, and he had to control his instinct to flinch whenever someone stepped on his foot or bumped into his shoulder.

Izuku trailed behind the others, focusing on Tokoyami’s sneakers so that he wouldn’t lose them. He tried to shut out the sounds of the mall, with limited success. There was just too much.

“Are you alright?”

Izuku was surprised to hear Shouto’s quiet voice from his left, and glanced up to see the other boy walking beside him, forehead creased with concern. Izuku smiled and went to say… something. But he couldn’t quite figure out what to say, or how to say it, so he settled for giving Shouto a thumbs-up. Shouto’s expression did something too complicated for Izuku to follow, and then he offered a subtle smile and an outstretched hand.

Izuku didn’t think twice before sliding his hand into Shouto’s, and everything was immediately better. Had the mall been too bright? It was very nice, almost sunny. It was still a little too loud, but he didn’t have to worry about that. He just had to follow Shouto wherever he went, hand-in-hand.

Knowing he wouldn’t lose his friends, Izuku was free to look around. And there was a lot to look at. Lots of strangers, and bright coloured clothing in the shop windows, and… ah!! All Might figurines!

Izuku dug his heels in, pulling Shouto to a stop. Shouto looked back with concern on his face, but Izuku smiled and pointed towards the shop with figurines in the window, and Shouto’s expression cleared.

“Tokoyami!” Shouto called into the crowd ahead of them. “Izuku wants to stop.”

It only took a moment for Tokoyami to join them, glancing briefly down at their joined hands. “I’m with you,” he nodded. “I will follow.”

Izuku tugged Shouto towards the games and collectibles store. There were so many things in here that Izuku loved! So many heroes and cool clothing and wow! Izuku bounced on his heels a little as he pulled Shouto into the store.

Once they were inside, Izuku let go of Shouto’s hand and dove in. There were plushies to feel, and figurines to inspect, and lots of games to check out! Distantly, he was aware of the others following close behind, murmuring to each other. But the merch was so much more important. Lots of All Might, of course, but there was a plushie of Thirteen that Izuku had to take a minute to cuddle. Ochako would probably like that: she was a big Thirteen fan, and had a fair number of plushies. And there was a Crimson Riot figurine that made Izuku think of Kaminari. He gave it a pat on the spiky head. Izuku didn’t hug Kaminari enough. He gave good hugs.

Finished with his inspection, Izuku turned back to his friends and reclaimed Shouto’s hand, leaning contentedly against his side. It made him happy just to be here, surrounded by all these things he could buy, and his friends as well. Tokoyami was on Izuku’s other side, and he bumped his beak lightly against Izuku’s head when Izuku came to join them. Izuku blinked at him. Was that how birds said hello?

Izuku tried to return the gesture, but he didn’t have a beak, so he just poked his nose into Tokoyami’s jawline. He heard Shouto stifle a laugh behind him, and he was pulled back to Shouto’s side.

“Be nice to Tokoyami,” Shouto said. Izuku tilted his head, confused. He was being nice! He was saying hello.

“Should we find another group?” Tokoyami suggested quietly. “Would you like to see Uraraka?” he asked Izuku.

Izuku nodded. Why wouldn’t he want to see Ochako? She was one of his best friends!

“Sounds good.” Shouto’s fingers wrapped a little more firmly around Izuku’s as they started to walk again. Izuku continued to stare around the mall. Everything seemed so fast and loud and big. Was this how the world always was? Something felt off, but Izuku couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Suddenly, there was movement through the crowd: Kacchan shoving his way through a group of preteen girls with his usual murderous expression, Kaminari and Kirishima loudly apologizing as they followed in his wake.

Izuku did his best to hide behind Tokoyami and Shouto, pressing closer to Tokoyami in the process. A face emerged from Tokoyami’s shoulder, making Izuku jump, but it was just a small part of Dark Shadow stretching lazily from Tokoyami’s shirt, glancing at Izuku and then back towards Kacchan’s trio.

“Don’t worry, kid, we’ve got your back,” Dark Shadow muttered, and did the same beak thing that Tokoyami had done, pressing gently against Izuku’s forehead and then retreating back into Tokoyami’s shoulder.

Izuku stared at the place where the shadow had been, mouth slightly open.

“Still alright?” Shouto asked, pressing Izuku’s hand lightly. “Do you want to get some headphones from Aizawa or Iida?”

Izuku shook his head. Less sound was nice, but he liked being able to hear his friends’ voices. Shouto gave him a thumbs-up, and Izuku mirrored the gesture with a grin.

“There they are,” Izuku heard Tokoyami announce. “Dark Shadow, get their attention.”

“Alright, alright, jeez.” Dark Shadow jumped from Tokoyami’s back and stretched above the crowd, waving a clawed hand. That got a lot of the crowd’s attention, but soon Izuku could see who he’d been gesturing at: a group of four girls, Ochako at their head, was coming over towards them.

“Hey Tokoyami, hey Dark Shadow! What’s up?” Ochako asked.

“I believe we have completed our expedition. We wanted to check with other members of our class,” Tokoyami said. Izuku frowned. Were they really done? But he needed… socks? Or maybe food? He was supposed to buy something.

“Hey, Izuku,” Tsu said, coming to join them. “How’s the trip?”

Izuku was slowly getting used to the weird twisting sensation that kept happening when he tried to talk. He gave Tsu another smile and thumbs-up. She nodded, her tongue poking out from her mouth.

“Don’t feel like talking? I get that. Ribbit. Do you want to go back to the bus?”

Izuku was conflicted. It would be quieter on the bus, and maybe he could even lie down, but all his friends were here! He didn’t want to be alone.

Not knowing how to express the feeling, Izuku reached his free hand towards Tsu and wiggled his fingers. Seeming to understand, Tsu moved forwards and curled her hand in his, and Izuku squeezed both her and Shouto’s hands.

“We’d come with you, if you wanted,” Tsu said. “I’m pretty much finished, and the others will still be a group if we head out. We’d have to check in with Aizawa-sensei, ribbit, but he won’t mind.” Izuku liked the idea of talking to Aizawa. He took care of the class. Izuku felt safer with Aizawa, and when his friends were with Aizawa.

Izuku reluctantly nodded. There was more to see at the mall, and he was sad to miss it, but the idea of curling up on the bus and relaxing with his friends sounded a lot better.

“Well, let’s go then!” Tsu said, pointing towards the food court.

“Wait, wait, I want to give Izuku a hug!” Ochako yelled, and then there were arms wrapping around Izuku from behind, pulling him back into Ochako’s familiar embrace.

Izuku melted, arms dropping to his sides and his weight leaning back into Ochako. She made a surprised noise, tilting back under the pressure, and then Izuku was weightless and Ochako pulled him properly into her arms.

“Hey, Izuku,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you’re going, but I hope you have a good time with Tsu and Todoroki.”

“Mmm!” Izuku said, hoping that Ochako would understand that he meant that he would definitely have a good time, and it was a very nice hug, and thank you very much.

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” Ochako sighed, and pressed a kiss to the top of Izuku’s head, right on his hair. He squeaked and felt his cheeks flush from the unexpected affection. It had felt… a lot like Tokoyami’s beak, actually. But kind of softer. “Take care of him, you two!”

“You know we will, ribbit.”

His weight restored and his hands taken again by his friends, Izuku turned to smile over his shoulder at Ochako as he was led away, his face still warm from the kiss. She smiled and waved, before turning back to Jiro, Momo, and Tokoyami. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Ochako’s voice was high-pitched and excited as she joined the conversation. Hopefully they were having fun.

“Careful, Izuku,” Shouto said, tugging at his hand. “Watch where you’re going.”

Izuku turned his eyes back to the front just in time to let Tsu and Shoto navigate him around a support beam that had been coming a little too close for comfort. Then they were in the food court, the crowd less chaotic here but the conversations louder.

Aizawa was sitting alone, dressed in passably civilian clothes with his capture weapon draped around his neck, phone in one hand. He lifted his chin as soon as Izuku and his friends stepped into view, acknowledging them as they headed towards him.

“Hey sensei,” Tsu said, when they got close enough. “Izuku’s a little overwhelmed and we were thinking about heading back to the bus for a while.”

“Did something happen?” Aizawa asked, directing the question towards both Izuku and Tsu as his eyes flickered between the three of them.

“Not as far as I know,” Shouto answered. “I think it was just the mall.” His thumb swiped across the back of Izuku’s hand. “Do you know?”

Izuku shook his head, then gently pulled his hands free.

Loud, he signed to Aizawa, whose eyes followed the gesture. Bright. Tired.

“Do you want a set of headphones?” Aizawa offered, making a shift towards the bag he’d brought along.

Izuku shook his head. Friends, he signed. Thank you.

“Suit yourself. How about a fidget toy?”

That sounded tempting, and Izuku’s face must have shown it, because Aizawa was rummaging in his bag and tossing things onto the table shortly thereafter. A Rubix cube, a length of string for cat’s cradle, squares of paper for folding, and a miscellany of little fidget gadgets. Izuku chose a set of interlocking rings that made a nice sound when he rattled them, and were fun to twist around each other. He gave Aizawa a smile and a bow, and then put the rings in his mouth. They were cool and metallic, and interesting to bite, but not very nice on Izuku’s teeth.

“Hmm.” Aizawa said, looking unimpressed. “I’ll have to clean those. And get you a proper chew if you’re going to be putting things in your mouth. Maybe a necklace so you can keep track of it.” He packed the rest of the fidget toys away, but not before tossing Tsu her favourite fidget cube and a set of keys. “Lock the bus doors behind you. If those keys go anywhere near the ignition, you’ll be expelled.”

“Yes, sensei,” Tsu agreed, tucking the cube and the keys into her pocket. “We’ll be careful.”

“You’d better be,” Aizawa said. “And take care of Problem Child.” Izuku perked up at the nickname. That was him! Aizawa was talking about him!

“Why is everyone saying that today?” Shouto said. “Of course we will.” He rested a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, which was almost as nice as holding his hand. Izuku leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. He felt very tired all of a sudden.

“Come on, Izuku,” Tsu said, and then his hands were taken again and he was led away, out of the mall. Izuku’s eyes were more closed than open now, and the mall passed in brief flashes of colour and crowd. With a friend on each side, deflecting the traffic, no one bumped into him. Soon enough, they were in the fresh spring air, and Izuku blinked his eyes open to stare up at the clear blue sky, breathing in the taste of petals and dirt.

His friends were by his side, the smell of spring was in the air, and Izuku felt better than ever. The world was very big, but it didn’t matter because his friends were there. They would take care of him. He was safe.

[ramp-it-up]

Fine

Pairing: Rafel Casal x Reader

Word count: 2Kish.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE! Dark Dom!Rafa, Daveed dancing, drinking, cursing, angst, possessiveness, ex sex, face slapping, bathroom sex, fingering, oral (f receiving) clit slapping, orgasm denial, bdsm, binding, lashing, gagging oral (m receiving).

Summary: You didn’t need Rafa anymore. You were just fine without him.

A/N: This is a little dark. I think I’ve used this pic of Rafa before, but it’s perfect for this fic. And btw, I’m on my Rafael Santiago Casal Bullshit. Watch out.

-----------

It had been 84 days and you were perfectly fine.

Out with your girls, you were wearing your freakum dress, getting plenty of attention and drinks.

You were fine.

So fine, that you were debating on which fine man to go home with. You surveyed the room for your pick. They’d all bought you a drink. You were polite, drank with them and told them you’d get back with them. You were trying to decide.

The chocolate one with the light eyes and the razor sharp fade?

The light skin with the gap teeth and hella swag?

The beefy blonde with the buzz cut?

You downed your fifth drink and moved towards those pretty gap teeth and swag.

Someone tall stepped in front of your 5” 6” frame in heels. You zigged and they zagged, blocking you from your goal.

You sighed and looked up at them, ready to politely ask that they move or cuss them out. It just depended on how their face made you feel.

You looked up to see Daveed and you squealed.

“DIGGS! HOLY FUCK IS THAT YOUUUU????”

He smiled and laughed at you.

“The one and only. What’s crackin’ girl?” He leaned back and surveyed your form in the dress.

“Damn! You’re still fine as hell!” He was shaking his head.

You threw yourself at him, your short body almost knocking his big lanky ass over with your over zealous buzzness. He laughed and hugged you more, leading you away from the bar.

“Where’s my girl?” You looked around for Daveed’s other half.

“She’s across country at a gig. I miss my Lady.” Daveed’s pout was adorable.

“Awwww, po baby. I’m gonna have to tell her to give you some electronic lovin.’” You started to pull out your phone.

“Oh, don’t bother. She already knows what’s up. Come dance with me.”

Daveed had turned into Mr. Smiley, and as usual, you couldn’t resist him. But you loved to tease.

“Boy, you know you can’t dance.”

“Fuck you mean????” Daveed started doing a very ugly robot.

“Fine! Let’s dance, ugh!”

You groaned and grabbed his hand to pull him out on the floor before he could embarrass himself, and you, any further.

Y’all had a ball, laughing and trying to talk to each other over the loud music, Daveed white girl dancing and you trying to teach him some moves.

After about four songs, the music turned slow and you two stood there awkwardly.

“Well, I guess I’ll go….”

You looked around to see if High Yella was still around.

Daveed’s eyes were above your head and the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“May I have this dance?”

FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You turned around, and came face to face with Rafael Casal. Damn he was so fine.

You cocked your hip and crossed your arms, and glared up at him, mad because you felt like this was a trap.

Rafa stared at your pushed up breasts in the dress and your nipples pebbled as he licked his lips wolfishly.

You avoided the memories of Rafael’s excellent nipple play looked back at Daveed for rescue to see that Rafa’s wingman had suddenly disappeared.

You turned your head back to Rafa, the swivel in your neck obvious.

“I should have known that you would be lurking around here somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, super annoyed and full of attitude.

And that’s why Rafa’s dick was on hard. He needed to give you some act right.

He’d watched you promise your body to every dude in the place with that fucking dress and lead them on. He needed to remind you whose it was.

Fuck that he’d given you the ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ months ago.

You belonged to him.

“I don’t lurk, Sweet Pea, I flow. And yeah, you know Diggs is the Yin to my Yang, and vice versa.”

Rafa was speaking low enough that you had to lean in, and you caught his scent. Fuck if you weren’t thrown back 83 days to the last time you’d let him take you apart and literally screw you back together.

That dick was an artistic masterpiece, just like everything about Rafael Casal.

But you were fine.

“You have some nerve, calling me Sweet Pea. Fuck you, Santiago.”

You were heated, and maybe it’s because you wanted some act right. You cursed your pussy’s muscle memory and the five drinks you had that were making you weak for him. Because other than that, you’d be fine.

“Maybe later.” He smirked at you, so damn cocky.

“So, are you gonna stand in the middle of the dance floor and cuss me out, or are you gonna move to the music with me?”

Rafa held out his arms and you looked around, pretending that you didn’t want to be encircled by them again. But you couldn’t be rude, right?

You stepped to him and he put his hands around your waist and crossed them behind you, pulling you flush to him. You stared at his lips as you felt him look down at you.

You didn’t dare look into his eyes, but this view was making you remember what that mouth do.

Shit.

Rafa cleared his throat.

“So, how have you been?”

You looked over his shoulder to the speakers on the stage.

“These past three months have been fine, just fine, Rafael. My life is so zen now. I’m happy.”

“Not quite three months, Sweet Pea. 83 days and 14 hours. And I’ve missed you like crazy.”

You looked up into his eyes when he said that. Oh, hell.

“Oh. Did you now?” You were hot.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke up with me the morning after you fucked me goodbye, you self centered narcissist asshole.”

You tried to leave his embrace, but Rafa slid his hands around to hold you fast, thumbs digging into your hip bones, hurting you. At the same time, his grip caused you to feel his desire pressed against your stomach.

You gasped and slapped his face. Hard.

You two stared at each other on the dance floor for a full ten seconds which seemed like forever.

The next thing you knew, you were being pushed up against the stall in the bathroom, the act of Rafa pulling you in there a total blur.

It always started like this, rough, fast, and hot.

Rafa’s hands were under the hem of your dress, dragging it up so that he could grab your panties and pull them down.

“You seem to have forgotten lesson number one. Whose pussy is this, Sweet Pea?”

You refused to answer and closed your eyes, memories of him seducing you just by teaching your fucking Poetry 201 course years ago flooding your brain.

He shook his head and knelt on the filthy floor as he removed and pocketed your thong.

“You prolonging your submission just prolongs the punishment, Sweet Pea. Is that what you need tonight?”

He licked a stripe up your leg and slung it on his shoulder, rutting into your pussy with his mouth.

Your protest at him stealing your clothing died on your lips and was replaced by a moan as Rafael’s skillful tongue started to swirl around your clit, while his fingers came up to roughly finger fuck your cunt.

“Damn, Rafa.”

You moaned and pulled his hair as his other hand came up to try and still your squirming on his face.

“Shut up and stay still, damnit.”

He spoke to you through your pussy, and your eyes rolled back in your head as the vibrations drove you crazy.

You tugged harder on his hair, which made him graze your clit with his teeth. Then, he laved it with his tongue and leaned back to look at it adoringly and then up at you.

You stared down at him, and watched his face glisten with your arousal. Then you caught his look. He sighed at your insolence.

“Fine. You know the drill. This is going to be payback.”

Before you could move, Rafa reached up and lovingly swirled three fingers around and around your clit, then slapped it three times.

You screamed, thankful that the club music was back to a loud cacophony.

He looked at you again, smiling that fucking smile.

“You wanna cum all over my face, Sweet Pea? Want me to make you unravel right here?”

You refused to answer him, but you both knew what was up. Rafa just chuckled at you, and leaned back in to devastate you with his mouth.

He flattened his tongue and took wide, languid strokes against your clitoris, keeping eye contact with you.

You were on fire, all nerves alive and reacting to what he was doing. He inserted two fingers inside you and curled them so precisely to that spot that always made you wonder if he was present at the engineering of your pussy.

You quivered, eyes squeezed shut and tears eaking out, so close to doing what he’d asked you about and bracing for it. Your muscles were taught, your feet were on tiptoe, even further than your 5 inch heels required, and you were holding your breath.

As soon as you felt you were about to gush into his mouth, suddenly, his warm tongue was replaced with cool air, and his fingers withdrew from your cunt.

“Arrghhhh! Cash! Fucking hell????”

He stood up, licking his fingers as he turned away from you, washed his hands and face, and used the water on them for his hair.

You were quivering with rage and desire. As you fixed your mouth to cuss him out, he spoke, calmly.

“You better not fucking move until I’m done.”

Rafa’s ice blue/green eyes in the mirror, and the tone, made you stand stock still, your dress still around your waist. Your pussy throbbed with excitement.

He finished the swoop, then turned back around to you, straightened your panties and pulled your dress down.

Then, he grabbed your face, pushing you against the stall again. His voice was menacing and cold.

“That’s just the beginning of your punishment for slapping me out there.”

You were dripping on the floor now. You wanted to hear what was next, despite yourself. No one could destroy and put you back together as eloquently as Rafael could.

Fuck, how you’d missed it. You were so wound up.

“If you want me to finish it, you know what to do. If you’re done…”

His eyes took in your face. So fucking beautiful.

“Well, goodbye Sweet Pea.”

He leaned in, and gave you a kiss, releasing your face and his hold on you. You moaned a little and put your arms around his neck, reveling in the tenderness while wanting the pain.

You whimpered as he pulled away, backed toward the door and walked out.

You went to the sink and put a cold paper towel on your neck, fixing your makeup and hair and getting your mind right.

You looked in the mirror. You were fine. You didn’t need what Rafael Casal had to offer.

You made a decision, straightened up and walked out of the bathroom.

----

An hour and a half later, you were in Rafael’s bedroom, naked on your knees, hands tied around your back, the lashes on your ass throbbing, gagging around his cock and praying that he’d let you breathe before you passed out.

You didn’t need Rafa.

But you wanted him.

And that was more than fine.

———

I hope it was fine for you! 😜

Tagging:

@sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @anh1020 @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @delaber @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @elocinnicole @mysearchforgratification

[fox-bright]

A note for all the people who started writing in 2020, and are submitting stories now:

I’m a submissions editor (that is, I read slush) for a fairly well-known SF magazine, and in this read period I am noticing a considerably higher-than-usual percentage of manuscripts that are rejected for severe grammatical errors.  When I mentioned this on a writing forum, I received a number of comments and PMs from writers who were surprised that I don’t “just fix the errors.” I’ve realized that it’s likely a lot of people don’t really know what a submissions editor does, or what happens to their short story after it’s submitted.

I’m not the magazine editor. I don’t get to send you the fun email that says “We’d like to buy your story!” and at no point do I have any place tinkering with your story at all. It’s not my place to correct errors.

I’m a filter. It is my job to take twenty stories and find one good one out of them to send on to the magazine editors. The other nineteen get rejected. I take stories, one after the other, from the submissions pile and I read through them until I hit a place where I say “No, this one doesn’t work” and I send a rejection letter. If the writer is skilled, I get to the end of the story without hitting that point, and I go “Huh!” and I set it aside for a day. I sleep on it. I go back and read it again, and if I get to the end and go “This is pretty great!” I send it on to the magazine editors, who do the next round of the process. If I am myself very lucky, I start reading a story and immediately forget that I’m looking for reasons to reject it. I am consumed by the drive to finish it, and I immediately send it on.

The second-to-last category is, as I said, composed of about one in twenty stories. The last category? That’s rare. One in a hundred, maybe. Maybe one in twice that many.

It is a lot more likely that I pull a story, open it up, get two or three double-spaced pages in, sigh, tab back to the submissions page and hit the “send rejection” button.

There are a lot of reasons that a story might not make it past me. There’s the basic stuff (does it meet submission guidelines? Is the format correct? Is there a cover letter with the necessary information about the writer? Is it in English? Is it a short story, not a novella, a novel, song lyrics, poetry, or a picture book?) and then we move on through grammar, readability, originality of concept (is it a fiftieth story about sex robots?), genre fit (we don’t publish non-fantastic westerns, or noir, or gonzo horror slasher stories, for instance, even if they’re very well-written), and increasingly arcane, specific things that any particular magazine is looking for. Those specific things differ, from publication to publication; there are good markets that want that gonzo horror robot porn western, for instance.

But the thing is, I can’t even get to looking at all of that top-level stuff if trying to get through your grammar and spelling is like stubbing my toe on concrete every other step.

There’s a tag on Archive Of Our Own that sees pretty common use, variations of “No Beta, We Die Like Men!” meaning that the chapter went up without ever getting a second set of eyes on it. Nobody checked it over for grammar, spelling, cultural accuracy, et cetera.  And for fanfic, that’s often fine. You are (by law) not trying to sell your fic, and you’re giving it to readers who generally already know the setting, the characters, the premise of the original work that the fic is based on. Other writers have done all of that trailblazing for the fic author. So if a fic has bad grammar, or weak characterization, or any of the other flaws common to new, casual writers, it’s not such a big deal; we already have a strong construct in our heads that we’re projecting the fic onto. We want to read good fic, but even mediocre fic can have something satisfying about it.

With original fiction, all the work is being done by the writer right then. There aren’t thirty TV episodes, a hundred hours of video games, forty volumes of manga sitting in the reader’s head already waiting for your story to join them. This means that every little thing, every word, is important. Every piece of grammar. Every clue about characterization. You’re building it all in front of us and if it’s nothing but dialogue then we can’t understand your setting, and if it’s nothing but ponderous worldbuilding, we’ll never come to be interested in your characters. And if there are fifteen grammatical errors on a page, it’s too distracting to immerse ourselves in any of it.

I don’t think that most submissions editors like rejecting stories. I think that all of us, who love reading and the craft of storytelling, would much prefer that when we pull your story from the submission pile, it grabs us by the throat. But we have to reject the ones that still need work.

You don’t want to submit a story that needs more work. You want to submit the absolute best thing that you can write. 

So if you’re new to submitting stories, particularly to professional markets, I highly recommend that you get a second set of eyes on it before sending it on to me or any other slush reader who will have to bounce it for the sixth dangling participle in two pages. Have a hyperfluent, passionate reader friend go over it for you in exchange for a pizza. Get in with a writing group (there are a lot online!). 

And if you don’t  have access to anyone else who can help, I suggest that you take the story and you put it in a box for a month or three. Come back to it with fresh eyes after leaving it entirely alone for a few weeks, and read it out loud. Record what you read, and then listen to it! A lot of the mistakes should pop out into sharp visibility.