#if anybody knows the reference i used ily

[lunarservantt]

karn sauer doodles

[hauntedhokage]

that you didn't say at all

word count: 512

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, hints towards shibuya spoilers

[crossposted to ao3] [prompt list]

Satoru doesn’t say “goodbye”. Not to you. 

“Goodbye” feels too definite, too final, like he’s not going to see you again when he knows its a matter of hours, sometimes days, before he’ll be back by your side. So he just does not say it. Not on the phone, not when either of you are leaving for the day, and especially not before a mission. He’ll say anything else, reference a movie or show, sing a song promising his return, but he will not simply say “bye”. 

He hates it when you say it to him, too. The first time you’d said it was met with a “What, we’ll never see each other again?” that took embarrassingly too long to put together what he was trying to hint at. You say it shortly after moving in together, and he just gestures to the large apartment that you were both calling home from that moment forward. 

Your departures were often a murmured “see you later” into your hair, or “I’ll be back” over the phone. A teasing “don’t do anything I might do” met with your own “please start to do things that I would do”. Never “goodbye”, it couldn’t ever be goodbye. 

Satoru also doesn’t use the full “I love you”. Too formal, too serious, something he felt should be reserved for firsts, weddings, childbirth, and deathbeds. The heart emoji or “ily” quickly typed out sufficed enough. The impossibly tight hugs after tough missions, the careful hold and close he has on your hand after the resolution of a fight, offering the sunglasses off his face when the sun was too bright for your own eyes conveyed the feeling well enough. Holding up half a heart with his fingers and waiting for you to mirror the action - that was how he conveyed his love for you. 

But tonight, facing the demand for his attention in the Shibuya train station, he only has time for a quick call. It’s hard, trying to keep his cool for you while you’re miles away in a different prefecture for your own Halloween plans, but he does his best because he doesn’t want you to panic. Not now, not when the outcome hadn’t yet been decided. 

“Should I go home?”

“No, it might not be safe. But I gotta go handle this.” You both take a deep breath in unison, but it doesn’t help settle his nerves as much as he’d hoped. He knows it certainly didn’t settle yours, your breathing is shakier than it had been before and he was certain you were about to start crying. Despite all his effort, it wasn’t enough to keep you from worry, and he knows his next words will not help matters either. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” A sniffle from your end makes his chest feel tight, moments like these weren’t supposed to happen. He was the strongest, wasn’t he? “Give ‘em hell.”

“Standard one-two-punch.” He hears a scream in the distance, and he has to go now. Before anybody else got hurt. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Satoru.” 

[ronearoundblindly]

hi!!

after hideout 4.2, i wanted to know: where is the motel located in the universe? whenever i read it, i see it more out west in the US, like california/nevada/utah/arizona area, maybe even within the four corners. I see more ruralness and a little more desert and rocks than grass and trees.

ily and this series thank you for creating such a unique universe <3

😳

I suppose I see it similar to the American west, but since I do try to keep Reader Fics as ambiguous as possible, I hope it's, yeah, open for interpretation. For the advantage of 'cover,' I do have the general description of woods and hiking areas out behind the motel. It is definitely rural but maybe vague enough to feel like there are different states/countries/continents this could refer to? Idk, I'm newer to xReader stories, and it is not possible to mean everyone with the exact same words, like an enormous age range or language barriers, etc, without being specific.

I'm struggling to figure out how little to include other people/plot in the last two chapters because that would involve family details. That feels like it's pigeon-holing the "this is you" part of the story. I struggle with this for every Reader Fic though; you can only say so much about anybody, however, without giving some personality, which is shaped by our experiences. Blargh. Humbug. Big shock, I overthink it.

Thank you for asking!

I've absolutely adored your comments for each part, and I hope I can keep up the excitement through the end 🥹😅🫡

[Hideout Series; Main Masterlist]

[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

three. everywhere

content (for this chapter): swearing (in multiple languages), chaotic siblings dynamic, insecurities, references to a past (bad) relationship, fluff, one black eye, a landlord being a landlord (derogatory), frankie being a little bit of an idiot, symbolism if you squint

word count: 6.2k

a/n: for santi's girl please refer to @lcvenderblues (i feel like i'm throwing you to the wolves), and also thank her because it's the main reason why camila and frankie came to be. i wanna thank you all once again for the response to the previous chapters, makes me cry a bit and ily all

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“Frankie has always been the least impulsive of us. When we worked together, it was the two of us bringing down the rashness of the group–I think that’s why we went along in the first place. I looked at him and saw a wise, level-headed, considerate man–and then Camila happened. Sorry, I’m sorry, just a joke! But, truly, ever since she came into his life, Frankie became different–it took me a while to realize it was a good different, that it was, for lack of a better word, his healing. And I liked Camila, since the first day we met: she was funny, kind, smart, beautiful too–most of all, I’d never seen Frankie like that. None of us had. It was odd, I think, and she knew that. I’ve never met anybody as understanding as Camila, as able to read other people as she does, and I’ll admit it was a little scary, in the beginning. But I’ll never forget–and, Fish, you don’t know this–one night, we were out for drinks, and Camila pulled me aside; it was just a few weeks after we’d first met, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me William–swear to God, the first person to call me William in years–, I could never hurt him. She said it like she couldn’t even fathom the idea of doing so, and it was so easy to believe her. It became even easier as time went by, and she stuck not only with Frankie, but the rest of us. So Fish, thank you for bringing her into our lives–I know I don’t have to tell you how lucky both of you are.”

The three men at the door looked at the woman in front of them with a dumbfounded gaze, looking between her and the young girl giggling in her arms. Alba wriggled in her hold, reaching her arms over towards the closest of the three of them.

“Does it take three people to deliver pizza now?” she wondered, her eyes flickering with amusement as she tilted her head to the side, loose strands of her braided hair falling across her face. Alba, turning her head towards her, squealed and imitated her as she looked back at the men, headbutting Camila gently in the cheek with a babble. “I know, baby–they don’t even have the pizza!” she hummed with a grin.

“Sorry,” the tallest of them managed to pull himself back from his haze, leaning forward slightly, “who are you?”

“Camila,” she readjusted Alba on her hip, her gaze wandering across them one more time.

“Mila, do you need–” Frankie called, walking towards the entrance. At the sight of the three men, he stopped in his tracks for a moment. “Carajo,” he muttered under his breath, then reached her side–his hand rose to the small of her back right away, a gentle caress up across her spine as one of Alba’s arms pushed out in his direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Interrupting somethin’, clearly,” the one at the front said, looking at Camila and Alba, then back towards Frankie, dark eyebrows arched. “Surprise?”

“Is this Morales?” a voice called from behind them, and all five turned. “Pizzas for Morales?” the delivery guy offered, tentatively.

“Yeah, sorry,” Frankie sighed, fishing the money from Camila’s cardigan pocket before pushing between the men to retrieve the boxes and pay him. He turned back towards her, his gaze darting between the three before settling on her–she shrugged lightly, her eyebrows arching a little, to which he tilted his head to the side, and only then she nodded. It happened so fast, the others simply stood staring, all equally perplexed, until Frankie sighed again. “So, are you guys staying for dinner?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the boxes were quickly removed from Frankie’s hands as one of the men walked inside, lingering a moment at the threshold with a little smile on his boyish face. “Hi,” Alba babbled the word back, and his eyes shimmered slightly before he looked at Camila again. “I’m Benny.”

“I know, dear,” she said gently, her smile soft and incredibly warm. Benny tripped on the step to get fully inside, gripping the boxes a little tighter in his hands as he walked past with her free hand brushing his shoulder–he turned to the others, his eyes a little wide. “You’re Will,” she added, looking towards the taller of them–he nodded, his lips pressed a little tighter than before–and then turned to the last of them. “Which means you’re Santiago.”

“Christ, nobody’s called me Santiago in ages apart from my mother,” he muttered, and Frankie elbowed him in the ribs. “Ya basta, pendejo,” he complained, pushing the man aside before stepping forward. “Sorry, chiquitita,” he murmured towards a smiling Alba. “Yes, hi.”

“Ma’am,” Will nodded his head as he walked in, and Camila’s eyes widened a little before she snorted, sending the child in another fit of giggles. Will frowned slightly, his steps faltering as he turned to look over his shoulder at Frankie, right after him.

“Sorry, just–Camila is just fine, Will,” she said, shifting to close the door. Frankie moved at her side, his hand again reaching up her back before he had to grab Alba, her whole body tipping forward to reach for her father. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am in my life.”

“Get in here and make yourself useful, Miller!” Santi called out from the kitchen, and Will cleared his throat with one last glance in Camila’s direction before walking away.

Frankie bumped his shoulder gently with Camila’s, turning his gaze towards her and mouthing a quiet sorry to which she smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she reassured softly, interlocking her arm with his and walking with him towards the kitchen, where plates and glasses clattered, quick and nervous chattering filling the space. “Besides, you did mention us meeting.”

“Yeah, just–” he took a slow breath in, exhaled when her chin brushed his shoulder. “I think I was hoping it’d happen as late as possible,” she laughed softly, placing yet another kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Well, at least one of them likes me for sure,” she whispered, glancing at the three bumping into each other in the kitchen, and smiled. “I can work with that. I’ll be right back.”

He let Alba back down to toddle by herself in the kitchen, followed by him shortly–the three men stopped their chat and movements as soon as they saw him, Benny crouching down with his arms wide open to welcome the child.

“If we crashed date night you could just say it,” Santi said, eyebrows arched as he looked at Frankie leaning on the counter.

“She just came over after work, Pope,” he muttered in return, head hanging a little lower. “My place’s closer than hers and neither of us wanted to cook, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he scoffed, mockingly, before mimicking the other man’s position–elbows on the counter, head slightly tilted to look at him. “You don’t want us here. You wanted to keep hiding her from us.”

“Pope,” Will chided, clear eyes hardening a little with the reproach.

“Hiding her?” Frankie frowned, pushing himself up. “You’ve all known about her for months, what are you talking about?”

“Yeah, six months,” Santi’s eyes darted towards the door and then back to his friend. “You do realize it’s been six fucking months since you first went out with her, right?”

“Don’t listen to your uncle, he can’t watch his mouth,” Benny told Alba, who sat on his bent arm and giggled whenever he looked back up at her. 

“Sorry,” Santi muttered, but quickly turned back towards Frankie. “All I’m saying is, you’re hiding her from us–or us from her, maybe.”

“I’m not hiding anybody, Pope,” Frankie sighed heavily, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But if you must know, this is why I hadn’t introduced you yet–you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

“This whole thing? You mean your girlfriend, Fish?” Santi snorted, to which Frankie frowned again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, flinching when Benny, suddenly at his side, hit him in the arm. “What?”

“Dude, come on,” the younger Miller said, with a wide grin and his head tilted–Alba imitated him, too, tipping herself to the side. Benny’s hand reached up to balance her. 

“What?” he repeated, shrugging lightly.

“You’ve been spending all your time with her–we gotta start ambushing you to remember what you look like,” Frankie rolled his eyes, stepping back to fold his arms across his chest.

“I don’t spend all–I’m not having this conversation,” he exclaimed at last, shaking his head. “You’re here now, you’re meeting her, that’s it.”

“Still sounds like you don’t want to,” Santi retorted, to which Frankie threw his hands up in the air, head tipped back.

“Dios–you’re unbelievable,” he muttered. His position shifted almost immediately after, shoulders sagging a little as if in relief before he turned his head, just a moment before Camila stepped into the kitchen–she’d undone her hair, washed her face of any residual make-up, barefooted, and looked right at home. “Hungry?”

The three of them glanced at each other as a bubble seemed to form around Frankie and Camila, his eyes crinkling at the corners while she reached his side, nodding with her eyebrows arched. Frankie’s hand sought her arm, trailing down the large sleeve until it brushed her hand, fingers hooking almost as an afterthought. She leaned in, and brushed a quick kiss to Frankie’s lips. The others looked away quickly–it felt like something too homely to be witnessing. Too intimate.

“Starving,” she replied, bumping into his side gently, a smile grazing her lips.

“Mi-a!” Alba called, loudly, rocking herself in Benny’s hold. The woman’s eyes shimmered slightly, and she circled around Frankie to reach for the child–she all but fell in her embrace, with a giggle as soon as her face was buried in the waves of her hair, tugging slightly on the closest lock she could grab.

“Hey, how come you call for her but not your uncle?” Santi protested, reaching for both of them. “Ya pues, digas tío, chiquitita,” he leaned so that his face was a little closer to Camila’s shoulder, where Alba rested her chin and gave a toothy grin. “¿Puedes llamar a tu tío Santi?” the woman chuckled at his sweetened voice, looking towards him from above her shoulder.

“Sorry, Pope,” Frankie exclaimed, his hand coming down onto the man’s back in a mockingly reassuring pat. “Think she has a favorite Garcia now.”

“Yeah, yeah, must run in the family,” he scoffed, then reached over to poke Alba’s cheek. “Pequeña traidora,” he whispered, making the child squeal and hide her face into Camila’s shoulder. “Alright then–I’ll just have to win you back.”

“Oh, you’re making it into a competition?” Camila chuckled, stepping aside and towards the living room–Santi followed shortly after, bringing Alba’s high chair with him.

“Of course I am,” he declared, puffing his chest out a little. “For both Morales,” he added, and Camila’s laughter rang crystalline and loud.

Frankie’s gaze stayed trained on them, blindly reaching for the pizza boxes until another hit against his shoulder from Benny made him groan and rub against the offended spot, looking back at the younger Miller with a frown.

“Will you quit that?” he grumbled, to which Benny snickered.

“Not your girlfriend my ass, Fish,” he took the pizzas from him, walking backwards to the living room with a slightly wilder grin. “You’re not fooling anybody!”

Will, quiet until that moment, tilted his head as Frankie’s gaze moved from his younger brother to Camila–she was crouched down with Alba in front of her and Santi to the side, her hair falling like a curtain across her side profile until she reached up, tucking it behind her ear to reveal a smile. A quick one broke on Frankie’s lips, too, and Will cleared his throat.

“Looks pretty serious,” he commented, level-voiced, and Frankie looked back at him.

“Still figuring it out,” he admitted, occupying his hands by gathering the glasses one of them had already pulled from the pantry. “It’s–you know how it is. Better safe than sorry.”

Will wondered if Frankie was truly unaware there was no safe anymore–not with the way he seemed to be lured by her, eyes and body seeking her even though she was just a few steps away. Not with the way her gaze softened when she looked at him, too, her hand trapped in Alba’s ones.

“How much does she know?” Will asked softly–careful, always calculated Will.

Frankie shrugged, lowering his gaze before turning it to his friend once more.

“All of it.”

“The pilot license?” he nodded, tapping his index against the side of the glass he was holding. “Colombia?”

“All of it, Will,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, brows pinched together. “She’s known for a while, and she’s still here, and things are good. Actually good.”

“Alright,” Will said quickly, stepping towards him and reaching to squeeze his shoulder. Frankie exhaled heavily, face relaxing. “Alright, Frankie, I’m sorry,” he added, and sighed before taking the glasses from Frankie. “She does seem nice. I’ll tone it down.”

“Thank you,” he nodded once, and turned his gaze to meet hers across the room–a quick smile pulled at his mouth once more, instinctual and soft. “She really, really is. She’s good.”

Camila’s fingers gently scratched across his scalp, the images on the TV screen blurring with each passing moment–the movie played softly, sound muffled by one of his ears pressed against her thighs, one hand brushing small and slow circles over her knee from above the hem of her skirt.

Alba was asleep in her room, a reprieve from her ever growing vocabulary and the quickness of her steps that had left them both exhausted–Frankie knew that if neither of them made a move to get up and go to bed, they’d probably spend the night right there on the couch.

“Whose idea was it to go out today?” he mumbled, cheek squished against her leg that turned his words into a light slur. Camila chuckled, trailing the hand that was in his hair down to the nape of his neck, making him sigh softly.

“Yours,” he gave a gentle squeeze to her knee and groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing himself against her a little harder–Camila chuckled again. “The park, too?”

“It’s such a nice day,” she responded, deepening her voice in a mock imitation of him. “The sun’s out, it’ll do Alba some good to be outside. Oh, let’s also invite the others!”

“That is not how I speak,” he protested, pinching her inner thigh–she snorted, wriggling a little underneath him. In response, he draped his whole arm over her legs, locking her in place. “Besides, you’re the one who brought that cake–the sugar high is on you.”

“Your mom gave me the recipe! I had to try it,” she retorted with an offended gasp, poking his shoulder with her finger. A buzz came from the coffee table in front of them–the nth of the evening–and the laughter in her words left space to a heavy sigh as she waved towards her own phone, its screen lit. “Could you turn that off?”

“Sure,” he murmured, holding onto her legs to reach for it. “Do you want to see what it is?” he asked, lifting it over his head to offer it to her–she made an annoyed noise from the back of her throat, and he twisted his neck a little to look back at her.

“No need, it’s just my landlord again,” she muttered, taking the phone from him with a grimace twisting her lips. He watched her as she pressed on the shut off button before throwing the phone aside, pulling her glasses over her head. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, once more softly, moving his hand over the top of her legs.

“Yeah, he’s just–breathing down my neck,” she sighed, sinking a little against the backrest. “Next rent payment is coming up–a few months ago work didn’t pay me on time, so I couldn’t pay him on time, and he started being an ass about it,” she scoffed, fingertips brushing through his locks again. “Texts me every single time, even though I’ve been punctual ever since.”

“Maybe you could not pay him,” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and he tried to play it off with a shrug that reverberated across her body, too.

“I still need the apartment, Frankie,” she chuckled softly, rolling the tip of a lock between her fingertips. “I can’t just decide to–” when his body tensed, Camila stopped and he felt her shift in her seat, leaning slightly forward. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Frankie’s ears started to burn as he felt her gaze on the side of his face, and he quickly cleared his throat to try and clear the knot that had formed.

“I mean, you’re here most of the time,” he murmured, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Half your stuff’s here already, and you’re closer to work, so I just thought–” he closed his eyes, drawing a slow breath in.

Silence wrapped around them, the only sound that of the now forgotten movie and his own heart thundering, blood rushing to his ears. There it was, he thought, the reckoning–he’d fucked up truly this time, had let himself run away with the comfort of their situation, but it had been too much, too soon, too–

“Frankie,” she tapped against his shoulder, voice and touch equally soft as she shifted on the couch and tried to slide from under him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself up, keeping his gaze lowered to where she was crossing her legs and turning towards him. “I need to be sure you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” her hand searched for his across the cushion. “Do you–are you asking me to move in? Here, with you and Alba?”

“God knows she wouldn’t be thrilled to have you here every day,” he scoffed softly, then slowly lifted his eyes. Her glasses were a little askew over her head, eyes wide and eyebrows arched as she let her gaze dart across his form. “I would too, and I know–” he locked his index around her small finger, pulling her hand up and towards his lap, “it’s soon, and quick, and maybe too much, I just thought–it’s convenient, is it not?”

“You’re not asking me just because it’s convenient,” he shifted his hand until they were palm to palm, her eyes moving from the point they were joined back towards his face, a flicker of doubt crossing her eyes. “Are you?”

“No, of course not,” he shook his head, and she moved closer across the couch, leaning in a little–he caught her side with his free hand, thumb rubbing at her waist, right underneath her ribcage. “You wouldn’t have to worry about rent–that apartment is awful, anyway,” he added with a quick, nervous laugh.

“Frankie, honey,” her free hand reached up to cup his jaw, and in doing so he met her gaze fully, drawing a quick breath in before melting towards her touch. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” trailing up her side and arm, he wrapped his hand around hers right against his face, pressing his cheek into her palm. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s a big change, Frankie,” she kept her voice low, yet he still could catch the nervous edge on the tip of her tongue. “For you, for Alba–do you really want me here all the time? It’s–” she must’ve noticed the shift in his expression, the slow retreating of his expectant gaze as his lips dropped into a half-pout. Too much, too soon, too eager, too– “I need to know you’re actually sure. Because waking up next to you is the happiest I’ve been in almost two years–a little more, if I’m being honest–and I can’t get my hopes up if it’s just, I don’t know, a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He had realized early on that Camila rarely held back–over the course of the months they’d kept seeing each other, he’d pieced together the messiness of her last relationship, the sorrys and moments of silence she carried after it, the uncertainties that still manifested in her sometimes-gazes towards him. A work in progress, she called it, trying to smile it off–but Frankie could see the frustration when she thought she’d done something wrong, and caught herself seizing up for it, searching his gaze for reassurance.

It nearly broke his heart.

Yet it made him understand why doubt was clinging to her like a second skin, why she sought more and more of him as they talked about it.

“This is it for me, Mila,” letting go of her hands, he reached for her waist and pulled her close–as close as he could before she had to move onto his lap. Her hands fell to his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt. “It is a big change, but I don’t mind it–and I can assure you, Alba won’t either. I do think she likes you more than me,” she chuckled softly, bottom lip trembling slightly. “And I’m absolutely sure–if you don’t want to now, then someday else,” he shrugged, squeezing her waist once in reassurance before smiling. “But, even now, I wouldn’t mind coming home to you every night–although actually, it’s you coming home to me, but still–” his sentence was cut off by her lips pressing to his, quick and a little messy in her hastiness.

Frankie’s arms wrapped around her, one hand shifting up across her spine as she almost toppled over to get closer and closer and closer still–he could feel her hands moving from his chest to his shoulders, up his neck, in his hair, shuddering breaths across his lips as she pressed herself into his front, moving onto her knees and straddling him.

“Is that a yes?” he slurred through the kisses, leaning against the backrest of the couch and bringing her with him–her lips trailed down across his cheek, his jaw, and he squeezed her hips once, twice, chuckling. “Mila–”

“Yes,” she mumbled, arms wrapping around his shoulders before she buried her head in the curve of his neck–all the tension left her body, and he blindly reached up to take the glasses from her head, the frame pushing a little into his jaw until he placed them aside. “Frankie?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked softly, brushing through her hair, nape of her neck and down her back. It was easier to confess while hiding against his collar, thumb brushing the side of his neck–his pulse jumped towards her touch, eyes closing as he sighed in response to her words.

“You’re it for me, too.”

And although he had been terrified in the beginning, Frankie knew there was no timeline where, as they kept seeing each other, he wouldn’t fall deeply, deeply for her. He’d known it, deep down, from the day he’d woken up with her in his arms for the first time; from the first time he’d seen her with Alba, and his heart had skipped a beat; even before, he’d known it when they were in his car, and her voice, loud, louder, had brought back to life a part of him he hadn’t realized he was missing.

“Should I see the other guy?” Camila took Benny’s face in her hands as soon as he walked out in the backyard, angling his head down towards her to get a better view of his left eye–bruised and slightly swollen, it made his eyelid droop a little. “Thought you were done with boxing,” she sighed, frowning ever so slightly.

“MMA,” he corrected, and she arched her eyebrows at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Sorry–it’s nothing, wasn’t a fight.”

“Sure looks like one,” she let go of him, stepping back toward the table set behind her shoulders–between more food than all of them could ever consume and drinks, was a bucket of ice she fished from, dropping some of the ice-cubes in a dishcloth that was resting at the corner of the table.

“I mean it, it’s nothing, it’s–” he hissed when she gently placed the ice against the corner of his eye, ducking his head. She held him still by the chin, keeping him so that he was looking down at her. “It’s stupid, really. Don’t worry.”

“A dude was being an asshole to some girl at the market and he stepped in,” Will called from behind his brother, and Camila’s eyebrows arched up again, gaze wandering from one Miller to the other–Benny’s expression was twisted, somewhere between guilt and coyness. 

“I see,” she nodded, her head tilted again. “You were being a knight in shining armor, then,” color crept along Benny’s cheeks, warming his face up a little. “Did you get her number?”

“That’s not–” he tried to argue, but bit his tongue the moment he met Camila’s gaze again, holding his breath for a beat before exhaling. “Yeah.”

She broke into a grin, shifting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss over his still bent head.

“Good boy,” she hummed before patting his shoulder. “Keep the ice on, and eat something–both of you,” she said then, stepping back.

“Yes, ma’am,” Will nodded, already half-way towards the laid out table. Camila scoffed, the back of her hand smacking against his shoulder before he could turn with a wide grin, his head bent towards her.

“Knock the ma’am off, Miller,” she pointed a finger at him, accusingly, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight before he lifted her off the ground, making her squeal with laughter despite her best effort. “This is the last time I’m warning you!” she exclaimed, ruffling his slicked back hair.

“Heard that before,” he chuckled, having now to tip his head back. She scoffed, a mock eye-roll before the smile took over again and she leaned her head down with a noisy kiss to his cheek.

“Where’s Santiago? Is he late again?” she asked, resting her arms over his shoulders, legs still dangling in the air. Will shrugged lightly.

“He’s inside with Frankie and his girl,” the moment the words left his mouth, Camila’s posture shifted, straightening her back as her gaze snapped towards the sliding door.

Frankie had gone to open the door while she finished setting the table for the impromptu almost-fully-moved-in celebration, as they called it, and in that moment she could almost catch a glimpse of his shoulders by the kitchen counter, his back turned on them.

“I’m sorry, did you just say his girl?” Will chuckled, and before she could even start wriggling out of his hold, he set her down and watched her sprint towards the kitchen.

“Pope’s not gonna like that,” Benny told his brother, words slightly muffled by the olive pit turning in his mouth and the ice pressing down his cheek.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” was his only reprimand.

Inside, Camila all but fell against Frankie, leaning forward as he was mid-sentence while holding onto his shoulders–he smiled right away, hands coming up to brush her arms before tilting his head to rest a kiss against her temple. In front of them, Santi held Alba with her arms tightly wound around his neck, and at his side a woman shuffled on the spot, lowering her gaze a little.

“Hi,” Camila said, interlocking her hands with Frankie’s.

“And this is the lady of the house,” Santi all but sighed, tilting his head to look at the woman by his side. “Although there’s not much on the lady part.”

“Cállate, cabrón,” she muttered in response, and Alba wriggled in Santi’s arms.

“Tío!” she called, enthusiastically–Santi’s eyes shimmered, his smile widening.

“You’re right, sweetie–it’s tío cabrón,” she nodded, her voice slightly lowered as she grinned. Frankie chuckled as she shook his head, while Santi’s face dropped in a deep frown that made the woman at his side hide her smile behind her hand.

“Hey, don’t take her side already,” he protested, looking at the woman from over Alba’s head.

“Oh, no–do take my side,” Camila detangled herself from Frankie–much to his dismay, his hand catching the ends of her hair as she brushed past him to reach the other woman’s side. “It’s nice to have some respite from all the testosterone going around in this house,” she added, leaning in almost conspiratorially. She chuckled, gaze darting from Santi–his expression turned in mock-offense–back to Camila.

“Glad to be of service,” she said, sweet-voiced. “And contrary to what he’s letting on now, Santi’s only ever spoken nicely of you–so it’s nice to meet you.”

“Betrayer,” the aforementioned man mumbled, making Frankie snort. Camila turned to look over her shoulder at him, sticking her tongue out and consequently sending Alba in a fit of giggles. “Camila, I’m warning you–”

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand dismissively, locking her arm with the woman’s to lead her towards the sliding door, their steps matching–the woman looked back just once, a half-apologetic look in her eyes that was accompanied by a smile nevertheless. Santi sighed, defeated, watching the two head outside, back to the Millers.

“Fish, I swear that if your girlfriend does anything–”

“Not my girlfriend,” he interrupted, his gaze still turned towards Camila. With a roll of his eyes, Santi hit the man on the shoulder with the back of his free hand, regaining his attention with a flinch.

“Seriously? You literally live together,” he scoffed, as Frankie shrugged and reached for his daughter instead. The child all but launched herself into her father’s embrace, still giggling.

“We haven’t discussed it, is all,” at that, Santi rolled his eyes again. “So what? We lived together. Should I call you my ex boyfriend?”

“Very mature,” he tsked, shaking his head. “Don’t you think maybe it’s time you do talk about it? What’s the worst that could happen, she says no and moves back out?” he snorted at Frankie’s growing worried gaze, resting one hand over his shoulder. “I doubt that’s how it’ll go, man. Seriously.”

“So you’re gonna finally do the same?” he retorted, letting go of Alba as she squirmed out of his grip and called for Mila. “Be careful, nena–she’s right outside.”

“What are you talking about?” although he tried playing it off quickly, still an edge remained to Santi’s words–he cleared his throat when Frankie looked back towards him, his eyebrows arched. “I told you a million times, we’re just–”

“Friends, sure thing,” it was Frankie’s turn to clasp his hand over Santi’s shoulder. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pope.”

Santiago hung back as the man made his way outside, and watched when, as soon as she saw him, Camila’s face broke into a smile, quick to welcome him in her embrace once again. Frankie kissed her cheek, her jaw, murmuring something in her ear with a grin that made her laugh, so loud Alba had to join in from her post on the grass.

At their side, lowering her gaze towards the tip of her shoes, was the other woman, hands falling down her sides with a shy smile before she stepped back slightly–and looked up. Their eyes met through the open door, her smile widening and his own returning quickly, instinctively, and something pulled at his chest–hooked underneath his ribs, brushing the edges of his heart, he felt it tug him forward and outside, unrelenting until he reached her.

“Are you sure about the couch?” Frankie called from the living room, his head turned towards the kitchen where he could hear Camila.

“You already have a couch, honey,” she walked in with the nth box in her arms over the course of how many days, weeks, the branches of the rosemary plant poking out from above the edge, purple flowers decorating some of its extremities. “A bigger, way more comfortable one, actually.”

“But it’s practically new,” he protested, placing his hands on one of the cushions, right by half-asleep Alba. “It’s just a pity,” Camila chuckled, placing the box on the ground and walking up to him. “We could put it in storage.”

“It’ll just collect dust in storage, Frankie,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against his back–he straightened himself as she did, her cheek pressing against his shoulder before shifting onto her tiptoes, hooking her chin over the bent of his neck. “We don’t need it–I got everything I had to. I have everything.”

He sighed, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he rested his hands on top of hers–he could feel Camila’s breathy chuckle against his skin before she lowered her lips to his neck, peppering soft kisses along the edge of the collar of his shirt, side to nape in a delicate brush. 

“It’s a really nice couch,” he murmured, and she smiled against his skin.

“I know, it’s the first thing I bought,” she said softly, moving then to his side–she went under his arm, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in as she took his hand, locking herself into his embrace. “It looks better here, anyway.”

“Is it too late to ask you if you’re sure about this?” he asked, their fingers interlocking.

“Yes,” she turned her head with a light smile, cheek pressed to his shoulder. “You’re not having second doubts, are you?” she asked then, voice softer.

“Of course not,” his response was immediate, turning as well to look at her–her smile widened at his words, shifting their intertwined hands towards her chest. “Just–making sure you don’t have any, either.”

Camila’s gaze softened, carefully unknotting them to move in front of him–still close enough she had to tilt her head slightly back to keep looking at him, pressing his hand to her chest a moment longer before lifting it to her lips. His free hand rose towards her side, brushing his fingers along her hip as she left a gentle kiss across his knuckles and then all but pressed herself to his front. He smiled when she bumped the tip of her nose with his, half-chasing her.

“No doubt whatsoever,” she hummed before their lips met once, twice, soft kisses that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I never planned on staying here long, I just had to get away from that house, and him,” she shrugged, Frankie’s brows knitting slightly.

I spent so much time during that relationship staying quiet, staying still–he remembered the words clearly from their first morning together, and she’d reconstructed it piece by piece during the following months. Camila counted herself among the lucky ones–her body had never taken the brunt of his boredom, or annoyance. And still she carried some marks.

Still she’d practically ran.

“I would’ve moved in with you on the first night,” she admitted then, grinning.

“Because you liked the house,” he scoffed with mock-offense, and she turned her lips in a half-pout, tipping her chin up.

“Of course. Why else?” he saw her lips quiver with the attempt to hold back a smile, and leaned in to kiss her a little more harshly, making her laugh against his mouth as she brought her hand to his cheek. When he pulled back, she sighed. “Right–maybe for that. And the house.”

“I’ll take it,” he relented with a shrug, followed by an almost sheepish smile–she kissed it off his lips, once and twice and once more, a quiet laughter that she interrupted quickly, slipping out of his grasp before he could even protest it.

“Nena, don’t eat those directly from the plant,” she called softly, walking a bee-line towards the box left behind and Alba, sitting by the rosemary and trying to chew the flowers off the branches. “Here, look,” Camila said, kneeling at her side and plucking some of the small, purple flowers, placing them one by one on Alba’s palm. “My yaya would make candies out of these, but I think they taste nice on their own, too.”

“Can-y,” Alba tried to speak and put the flower in her mouth at the same time, butchering the word–still, with a smile, Camila nodded and mimicked her, placing the flower on the tip of her tongue.

“Yes, can-y,” Alba giggled at the slightly muffled mispronunciation, reaching with her hands towards Camila’s–she gave her another one of the flowers. “You know, if the plant sticks properly in the garden, next year we’re gonna have so many of these,” she added, saying it like a secret.

Frankie’s heart stuttered at her words–next year, we, given as a certainty.

He walked to them both, crouching by them–Camila offered him a flower, which he ate directly from her fingertips, making her scrunch up her nose in mock-disgust while looking at Alba, the kid laughing again and grasping Frankie’s pant leg.

“You sure you want to move it to the garden?” he asked carefully, hand coming down Alba’s head to ruffle her soft curls. The child lifted her arms to wrap them around her dad’s wrist, pulling his hand to her.

“I want it to take root,” Camila nodded, brushing her fingertips along the leaves of the plant. “I found its perfect home already–a great sunny corner. It’ll grow nicely,” she added, meeting his gaze with her voice a little lower. Again Frankie’s heart swelled, and he nodded as he leaned in, nose brushing her hair as he kissed her temple–the rosemary smell clung to her skin, welcoming him home.

next

[lex-munro]

[Suicide Squad Scrap] Princess pt. 15

self-indulgent batjokes-flavored SS/BvS/JL, snippet #15.

sorry, darlings, I forgot that the whole point of this was to give you my unfinished thoughts, not to slavishly complete the narrative.  x_x  without further delay, a tiny bit of plot and a tiny bit of mission exposition.

Ratcatcher is the rogue who keeps putting max points into UMD. isaidwhatisaid

the piece as a whole is rated Mature for pervasive language, varying degrees of violence, use of controlled substances, sexual references, questionable ethics, and themes of mental illness.  set from Flag’s POV, with references to Birds of Prey, but not compliant with The Suicide Squad.

***

  So Flag sneaks Joker’s phone out of the confiscated locker.

1 new text message from Darling 1 new multimedia message from Darling

He unlocks the phone on his second guess:  8181, H-A-H-A.  His first guess was 4242, but that’s apparently a little too obvious.

Darling 08:39 watch his hands [embedded video] Warning, attachments may contain malware.

Flag clicks the video.

A Belle Reve guard shoved Joker into a chair and strapped him down. ~Better hope Daddy doesn’t get wind of this rough treatment.~ The guard unconcernedly started inserting a feeding tube into one nostril.  ~Who?  Oh, yeah, the delusions.  Well, a few more doses should put a stop to those.~ Joker’s hands shook, then clenched.  He snarled at the guard, but couldn’t move enough to bite. ~Here we go…  Don’t you worry, now—these drugs are amazing.  Soon, you’ll be saying, ‘Batman who?’~

Flag focuses on the hands.

Flap, flail, twitch.

It could be Morse, in which case…

He rewinds.

trap. stay away. ily. gb ily ily ily Gradually, the movements slowed and stopped.  White fingers went lax. ~Theeeere,~ said the guard, patting one thin hand.  ~Better, right?  Cloud nine.  No need to think about nutcase vigilantes.  No worries at all for our little princess.  You just do what Waller says, and you’ll keep getting these niiice drugs.~ Joker was slack in his restraints, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.  Another opiate, maybe? ~Pretty thing, aren’t you?  For such a basket case, anyhow.  Such long eyelashes, like a baby doll…  Dress you up and pose you.  Not like you’ll know or care, with this stuff.  Enough doses, and even somebody with your resistance will break right down.  Forget everything, not a care in the world.~

Flag grinds his teeth and feels like a fool for buying any of Waller’s lies.

He jumps when his own phone buzzes, hurries to see—

2 new text messages from Satan This time you’re retrieving a pris…

He swipes it open and reads.  Retrieval from a LexCorp facility.  Dossier says it’s a martial arts specialist named Ben Turner.  No known meta-human abilities, favored weapon bronze clawed knuckles.  Intel says surface security shoots to kill.  Drones have scanned thoroughly enough to pinpoint the facility’s entrance below the building housing their main control hardware.  The entrance and central computers will require some hacking—Flag hopes like hell his gang is up to it, because he can’t stand Brainiac or Egghead or any of the other likely candidates in Waller’s bag of tricks.  Maybe he can requisition some nice automated toys; Ratcatcher is pretty handy with any kind of tech, after all, and Joker managed to disarm Harley’s nano-charge…

He texts Waller, preemptively nixing the addition of a dedicated tech expert and citing the combined volatility of Ratcatcher (who tends to bite strangers) and Joker (who might let a stranger walk over a landmine for fun).

The analysts will prep a care package, she says.

Flag goes to see the Geeks—they explain the logic of their selections and tell him they loaded a tablet with the inventory list and corresponding user manuals.

“All pretty self-explanatory for anybody with a three-digit IQ,” Economos tells him.

“Good.  I finally have a team I don’t hate; I don’t want ‘em all dropping dead on me for lack of computer gizmos.”

  ~*~*~

  Joker is red-eyed and coltish as he steps onto the tarmac.  Better than he was the day before, but it’s worrying, all the same.  Guy’s supposed to have their backs in a fight, come up with their plans, maybe hack some shit.

“Welcome back, Jay,” Flag says, just watching.

The clown looks at him, then starts digging in his trunk.  “Where’s my goddamn makeup?” he mutters.

“The fuck is she playing at,” Lawton grumbles under his breath.  “Fucking him up like this when we got an op scheduled…”

Joker glares at them both as he brushes smokey green eyeshadow into place.  “My ears are burning, boys.  I may not be looking my best, but I’m more than capable of handling myself.”  Next is bright, bloody lipstick with just the slightest overpaint.  Knives, holsters, sidearms, coat.  “Where’re we headed?”

Flag lifts his chin.  “Coast City.  Industrial district.  Run-down, dirty, medium foot-traffic at the best of times.  We’re retrieving somebody from a top secret LexCorp lab, which may result in people wanting us dead if we make too much noise or leave too much evidence.”

“Ahhh, Lexy,” Joker muses as he watches Digger load up on boomerangs.  “Y’know, he once called me a ‘deranged fanboy with more evil impulses than sense.’  I told him I was flattered, but taken.  He winked at me, so I warned him I kill people who try to spoil the game.”

“Game?” Ratcatcher asks, shoving a spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth.

“Guessing the mask my lovely hides behind in daylight,” Joker replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  “I think I know who it is, but there’s plenty of time to eliminate possibilities.”

“Man’s the world’s greatest detective,” Lawton points out.  “You think he don’t know how to hide shit like that?”

“Only so much you can hide from the guy you stick your dick in on a regular basis.”

The boys all jeer and complain about mental images while Ratcatcher laughs so hard she snorts peanut butter up her nose.

Flag heaves a deep sigh.  “If you’re done choking on your snack, this crate is full of doohickies Waller’s analysts thought might help us out.  Have a gander, gadget-girl.”

She starts digging through the gear.  “Skeleton key, very nice…self-cloning RFID card…ooh, a jackhammer!”

“What?” Lawton says, looking deeply perturbed.

She waves a thick computer tablet at him.  “Brute-force code-breaker.  Plug it in, it digs around until it figures out where to go to gain admin access, and then it does what computers do best:  making really shitty guesses really quickly.  Here, see—”  She turns it to show him the label the techs have put on it.  “—not suitable for systems with brickware, can overcome dictattack blockers.  Huh, and apparently not compatible with Apple systems…”

“Gimme the intel pack,” says Joker, holding out a hand and wiggling his fingers.

Flag gives it to him and sees him flipping through maps and blueprints.  Good; he can still do his job.

“Three roving patrols, three sniper nests, single elevated indoor guard post overlooking the building the scans claim hold the computers, right above the entrance to the facility.  Infrastructure implies an underground complex entered through a shielded door in the basement levels…”

“Dodge the patrols, hit the snipers?” Flag offers.

“Split up, first.  Better chance to sneak up on ‘em.  Then we need somebody to poke around downstairs to verify that door while somebody else pokes the central computers.”

“Croc and Boom, me ‘n Deadshot, Arcee ‘n Jay.  Let’s go, kids.”

.End.

[transbee]

[nadia-zahra]

St5 byler speculation

This is some st5 speculation based off of will and mike’s last heart to heart in st4.

This is the scene I’m referring to btw:

First things first I just have to say that the Duffer brothers have said (don’t know if they were lying or not) that we would be able to figure what happens in season 5 from what’s given to us in 4. Ok now for the actual theorizing:

The first thing that happens is Mike tells Will him and El aren’t speaking and haven’t really spoken much since the love confession. Obviously this means El and Mike are still going to have relationship problems in season 5, but more importantly this means that El is definitely done with Mike’s bullshit. I’m assuming them not talking, even after Mike said ily in that horrendous monologue, that El is going to break up with him. Maybe she’s not breaking up with him because of his inability to say I Love You. Cause I mean literally this whole season was about that and we do get mike saying ily in the love confession. maybe its because her new sense of independence let’s her know she doesn’t need Mike’s (or anybody’s) opinion of her to make her feel good ab herself. And also she probably feels like she needs to focus on Max and Vecna but that’s for a whole other day lol.

Second thing that happens is Mike and will sitting down on the couch; this is where the rest of their convo happens. Now a lot of people have pointed out that the couch is upside and this could mean that Mike and Will will be in the upside for the next season. However, I would like to add this: Mike is the first one to sit on the couch…Mike is the first one to end up in the upside down. Will follows him onto the couch, and has to put the cushion down to sit…Will chooses to go into the upside down to save Mike. I think if Mike is the first to end up in the UD, then he is getting Vecna’d. That’s really the only plausible reason why he would be in there since there are no more gates. The Duffer brothers have said that st5 is going to circle back to st1 and it’s going to have a lot of the same character pairings. Wouldn’t it be crazy if instead of Will being lost in the upside down, it was Mike, and instead of Mike looking for Will, ITS WILL LOOKING FOR MIKE. i wouldn’t think, if this is true and Mike does get stuck in the ud, that they’d have him in there for a week considering most seasons have been set within a weeks time span. But the idea of them flipping they’re dynamic from season one is chef’s kiss.

Moving on to the third thing: lighting. Will is bathed in sunlight and Mike is pretty much in the shadows—except when he grabs to will. There’s dozens of analyses on the lighting in this shot, and I don’t really want to resay what’s already been so heavily spoken on. But I will say this as my own little spin on the lighting’s meaning: what if the light being almost like a spotlight on Will means that he is going to be the one to save the day? I mean think about it like this. In media and literature, there’s always a parallel between good and bad and light and dark. If Will does chase mike into the ud, or is trying to save him, Will would be mike’s light in the darkness. Mike is shown all the way out of the light, it actually kinda looks like Finn was told to position himself out of it. This could mean that Mike is stuck in that negative ass headspace while in the ud, he’s going to struggle with not letting Vecna get him. But Will is his light, and just like in this scene, mike will reach out for that light. For the goodness that will save him from being vecna’s next victim. You can also note how Mike’s grip on this scene is extremely tight (ik Noah’s shoulder must’ve hurt after that lol) and a lot of bylers have used that as byler evidence, but I’m going to use the death grip he gives as symbolism for him reaching out to Will for safety for dear life.

Fourth thing: Will talking ab his connection to Vecna. He hasn’t been in Hawkins for even a day and it has all flooded back to him. The being able to see through Vecna’s eyes, hear his thoughts, feel his presence. The connection is just as strong (if not stronger) than before he left. If Will ends up in the ud looking for Mike, this will obviously play a disgustingly huge role. I mean I can see us getting scenes where Will is talking to Vecna through his mind, getting a zoom in on the back of Will’s neck and then HEARING VECNA TALK TO WILL, and just so much more. Like can we pleaseeeee get Will doing a full on Harry Potter v. Voldemort battle?? This isn’t even me speculating that this is me wishing. Oh and I am going to make a post regarding the parallels between Will and Harry because everyone loves doing it with El but I feel there’s so many more with Will it’s insane. I have completely gotten off track let’s move on.

Idk what number we’re on now, but I was rewatching the clip and forgot to discuss them talking ab el. Now there are a lot of things through out the season that point to el not defeating vecna, and it being someone else (I will also be doing a post ab the d&d game because HOLY SHIT does it have some juice to it) but when talking about specifically this scene, mike says that she’s never lost like this before. Ok actually I’m going to have to rope in the d&d game a lil bit for this to make sense. So in the d&d game Eddie explains how vecna has returned from the dead even tho it was believed he was killed. We end st4 with everyone thinking Vecna is dead (dare I add how both in the d&d game he is missing a left arm and in the fight between him and the three older kids Nancy and robin both aim for his left arm). But in the game we watch a bunch of players die (to reassure those who think I would say st5 everyone is going to die but two people, no. That is absurd) and they’re left with only two chances to kill vecna. it’s not the 11 that kills him it’s a 20. Going back to this scene with mike and will (I am sorry for how messy this paragraph is it’s 1am and I’m just waiting for my goddamn script) Mike says El’s never lost like this. We can parallel El to the person that had supposedly tried to kill vecna but didn’t. Then Will goes on to say “she’ll have another chance” mike says “let’s hope not”. Now, this is kind of reaching but I think this scene with mike and will in regards to el is solidifying the idea of El not saving Hawkins. If the d&d game is true, and it’s not 11 but 20 (I have searched throughout this entire fucking season for even an inkling of a 20 being even AROUND a character but no hope so far) then mike saying, after Will says she has another chance, “let’s hope not” could be the writers telling us “El isn’t going to be the hero”. Also love that Will goes into brother mode when Mike talks ab her doubts, he is such a lovely brother.

Final thing I noticed: mike repeating “we will. we will”. I don’t care if I’m wrong ab what those words mean, but I don’t think I KNOW these words hold weight and tell us something ab st5. Think about it, Mike only ever repeats something if he is really trying to put emphasis on it. He did that with “we’re just friends”. The writers are telling us to pay attention to these words. And I think that it’s just such an odd sentence to begin with. It’s one of those sentences that only the writers would write with the intentions of it alluding to what’s to come. (Edit: I’m sorry to add it here but I reread this and I need to say that OBVIOUSLY THE WE WILL MEANS THEYRE GOING TO WIN. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that at the end of the show the bad guy loses. I’m talking ab more so “who” is doing the “will” so to speak… who will kill vecna 😐). I’m just going to throw out the idea of this alluding to will and mike fighting vecna, but it’s Will that ultimately kills him. Because if you break it down (analyzing a two word sentence is so fun! *said sarcastically*) the “we” mike is referring to could really only be two possibilities: it’s either him talking about mike + Will, or him talking ab the entire group. It’s not just a singular person that’s killing vecna. So to make that statement work with my “Will is killing vecna” theory. In the ud, mike and will hatch up a plan that involves both of them killing vecna. However, when it all comes down to it, it’s going to be Will that kills vecna. Even this little theory I just cooked up in three seconds works with the sentence. “We (mike and will as a team destroy vecna) will ( will kills vecna by himself)”.

So hears my little st5 theory based off of that scene (and this is really only in regards to Will + Mike obviously): Mike gets vecna’d, but instead of dying he, he like max, gets trapped in the upside down. I’m going to throw this in here for fun and because I really want it to happen, but Vecna first gets mike by making an illusion of him at the quarry and vecna is basically harassing Mike for jumping off. Anyways, Will finds out (maybe he’s with mike? Idk it’s 2am leave me alone) that Mike is stuck in the upside down and goes after him. Will is in contact with vecna and scared of it but he knows that with this connection they can find him easier and can learn his weaknesses. Will does find Mike and their reunion would probably make byler shippers have a full on exorcism (I’m thinking the reunion scene would probably be a parallel of their reunion at the airport, but instead of the awkward side hug, they’re like crying and holding each other for dear life). Mike and Will will create a plan to kill good ole vecky. While on that journey they most definitely would have a heart to heart and I think this convo would make byler cannon. Also while on the journey Will would probably be seeing some crazy shit from Vecna and the closer and closer they get to him the worse it’s going to get. Once they actually do meet vecna mike and will begin their plan. Idk what the details of the plan would be or how it would lead to this, but it would lead to Will being the one to end vecna’s life. With or without mikes help, Will is killing him. I think while all this is going down throughout the season (can you imagine if all I just said only happens in like one episode Jesus Christ that’d be crazy) El is trying to figure out a way to gain back her confidence in her abilities, El and mike definitely break up before he gets vecna’d, and (PLEASE DONT MURDER ME THIS IS JUST A THEORY) in el and vecna’s final batte El loses….and dies. IK NO ONE WANTS HER DEAD I DONT EITHER I LOVE HER CHARACTER. But there’s just so much that shows her death and like not to mention story telling wise, going with the story of the whole show not just the final season, it makes sense. And like if they’re alluding to her not winning the final battle, how tf do y’all think that’s gonna play out? What she’s just magically gonna live because she said pretty please at the hands of vecna’s mercy? I don’t think so. Anyways this concludes this EXTREMELY long analysis. I’m going to check if I got the papa script now lol.

[gayofthefae]

The shot with harsh lighting they consistently use in the ily scene is literally called a “choke shot” for anybody wondering :))...

It’s used for either intimacy or, in this case, discomfort - a feeling of suffocation, (which is definitely pertinent to El’s state...). The intention of discomfort is emphasized by the angle and harsh lighting.

Not only is this an active choice for Mike’s delivery of the speech, but it is used specifically for the more dramatically romantic lines of the speech in contrast to shots where they chose to keep Will present in the background (consistently during lines that reference the things he has said to prompt this speech like the van speech and moments ago repeating “you’re the heart”).

I would also like to note how purposeful it is in timing given that the quick cuts back and forth are wildly inconsistent as to whether Will is in them or not. It doesn’t become progressively more intimate between Mike and her. If I didn’t know better, it would almost seem random (but I do know better, hence the previous paragraphs).

There was also one shot where instead of including Will, they chose to do a choke shot on Mike as he said “hurt more” and cut to Will - separating the two in this one instance. Maybe because, unlike the references to his speech’s prompting, Mike is less aware of the pertinence to Will in this comment. It also may reference their conversation on top of the car. Interestingly, it is hard to tell people things because you’re scared of them leaving you and this comment has a disconnect between the two that implies that there is still something to be told and in that that risk still has to be taken.

Another point of note was that I noticed that they kept Jonathan’s hand on El’s shoulder in the background of the shot of Mike and her hand when there were other shots they could have done to exclude it and I thought that was a nice touch in addition to being open to analysis.

Overall, Will’s presence is consistent periodically throughout the speech. It isn’t when the speech gets more vaguely romantic, when a choke shot and harsh lighting is used on Mike. But he is there during all the specific romantic comments that reference him either via the van speech or in one instance in reference to his search party. Will is present for all specific romantic comments as they are in response to and thereby arguably about him whereas all sappy romantic non personal romantic comments are made to be suffocating.

[gyllenhaalstories]

YOU WON’T PLAY, YOU’RE NO FUN — PROF!CHRIS

summary: chris evans is your professor with whom you’ve had an affair with since the beginning of the semester. you meet with him over zoom with your fellow teammates to discuss your project, but you can’t seem to get into the right mindset. instead of providing the group with clever comments and ideas, all you do is test the limits of chris’ patience and self control.

warnings: don’t have sex with your prof please, mentions of online classes, smut including: established dom/sub relationship & teacher/student relationship (abuse of power used strictly as a joke, they are both 18+ and consensual), degradation, masturbation & mutual masturbation, edging. MINORS DON’T READ NOR INTERACT.

word count: 1500

notes: rail me daddy :) i’m a hoe for teacher/student if you can’t tell already. i do keep it vague by not mentioning any majors, don’t worry! it’s my first time writing for chris, so please, be kind!!! i hope you enjoy reading this mess!!!! ily <3

gif credits: capsgrantrogers blessing us with this low quality webcam goodness.

“Miss /Y/L/N, would you mind staying a little longer? I need to talk to you.” Chris’ voice resonated as your classmates went quiet before they waved their cameras goodbye and left the two of you alone.

Uh oh.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” By the time you were done with your question, you noticed that his face was frozen. “Mister Evans! Chris?! I think there’s an issue I can’t — hear you.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. You seriously needed to get that Internet connection checked. You had your hand on your laptop, ready to close it up when you heard the familiar noise of a video call, but this time it was a private conversation.

“Don’t want anybody to walk in on us, right?” Chris winked and smirked at you. You had a flashback of that one time you hooked up in his office and realized his door was left ajar when you could hear the secretary of the department arguing with the printer. You thanked your guardian angel (who must had been very disappointed) that you were just on your knees blowing him off, and that nothing too serious was going on.

You laughed, for a second you thought you were in trouble.

“What was that all about?” Chris questioned, his smirk disappeared and was replaced by a dark expression.

“I have no clue what you’re referring too.” You shrugged lightly and looked at the screen, wishing he had chosen another shirt that showcased his tattoos. You were lucky enough to see his arms from the short sleeves, you felt as aroused as royal men back in the day when they saw a woman’s ankles.

Chris clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, really? There is no explanation to the attitude you’ve been giving your teammates and me all morning?”

You sighed again, loud enough for him to hear you. “They’re idiots and I’m sick of their shit. They’re not doing anything on the project yet they show off in front of you just to   —“

“Got it, they’re dumb and you’re smart.” He put the emphasis on the last few words. “Tell me, Miss, if you’re that smart, how come you’ve made the very stupid decision to be rude to me as well?”

You swallowed thickly. You were just so pissed off, exhausted from the all nighter you had to do in order to complete the requirements for today’s class. “Chris, look, you know it wasn’t about you...” You heard him cough. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’d call you a good girl, but good girls don’t talk back and they certainly don’t act so bratty. What a potty mouth, you swore in front of everybody. Do I have to teach you manners too? I’m afraid that’s not listed on my tasks as your professor, too bad.”

“I said I was sorry! You know how much I hate them!”

“Do I have to give you a bad grade for not cooperating? Not everybody is as understanding as me, you need to learn that.”

He sounded so arrogant, so condescending. As much as you hated it, it turned you on. You were all squirmy on your chair, and he caught up on that.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, princess? Why are you on the edge?”

You looked up through your lashes, letting out a complaint. That fucker. The last time you met, which was over a week ago, he had an emergency and had to leave his apartment to go on campus. How convenient, you had not finished and you were left breathless and worked up on his bed. He made you promise not to touch yourself without permission on his way out. He knew just how impatient you could get. All the needy texts you sent him while he was looking over his other classes during an exam; all the begging you did over the phone while he insisted on doing small talk.

“You won’t play with me,” you pouted at the screen. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckled, his voice sounded lower than usual while he sat up on his chair. He loved this game with you, probably as much as you did if not more.

You noticed his arm disappeared out of the frame. You’d do ten other team works with your stupid colleagues if it meant you’d be the one to take care of his hard on at that very moment.

“Oh, baby wanna have fun? Is that it? You should have told me sooner!” He cleared his throat when he heard you sigh again, giving you a warning. “Get those fingers nice and wet for me.”

You obeyed, sucking on two fingers of your dominant hand. You picked up on the back and forth movements of his arm, he was palming at his crotch. You caught a glimpse of him standing up   — he was in tight Calvin Klein boxers   —  and sitting back down, his cock freed from his clothes. “I’ve been good, Sir. So good.”

He nodded slowly, after spitting in his hand and starting to fist his cock. “Oh, really?”

You nodded frantically. “I haven’t touched myself since you left,” you pulled your hand away from your mouth, a string of saliva fell down your chin. “I’ve been so wet for you, Sir. You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Then think about my fingers rubbing your clit.” He groaned, the speed of his arm motions increased.

You jerked on your chair at the contact of your fingers, your panties were soaked from your arousal. “Sir!” You moaned out when you circled faster against the bundle of nerves.

“You’re so fucked up for me, you’d rather cum on your fingers than on my face, huh?” You felt tears pooling in your eyes. “Stop touching yourself and answer me.”

You pulled your hand away, showing it to the camera so he believed you. “I want to cum so bad, Sir! Please, just once! And I’ll wait until we meet again. I need it!”

“And I need to fuck that tight little cunt of yours and you don’t hear me complainin’.” His bicep flexed in his tight shirt, his breathing got heavier. “I waited for you the entire week. I didn’t text you in the middle of the night begging like a desperate slut.” He nodded, indicating you could start rubbing again.

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. He was edging you, again.

“Eyes on me, Baby. Need to see you.”

It took so much energy just to keep your eyes open.

“Faster.” He growled, he was so close too. You could feel it, even if he was far away.

“Sir, please!”

“Stop, stop right fucking now.” He pulled away from his swollen cock at the same time as you did. “I won’t tolerate attitude like this again, you heard me?” You nodded, mouthed a ‘yes’. “I don’t want to repeat myself. You’re such a dumb little baby sometimes, I’ll probably have to.” The more he mocked you, the more you needed to touch yourself again. “Next time you act like a bitch in my class, you’ll regret it.” You never took his threats lightly. The first, and last, time that you did, you ended up bent over his knee with the belt of his dress pants spanking your ass red like the ink from the pen he used to grade papers

“I’ll count to ten. At ten, you’ll...”

“I’ll cum!” You spoke excitedly.

“Yes, Babygirl. You’ll get to cum.” He licked his lips and stroked his beard, his hand holding his sensitive cock. “Ready?”

You replied with even more enthusiasm and he started to count up.

“Slowly, 1, 2, 3...” He swallowed thickly. “Add more pressure now, 4, 5, 6,” he tightened his grip around his cock. “Faster, 7, 8, 9...” he jerked himself up at the same speed as you. “Now, cum for me. Make a mess like you’d do on my cock. That’s right, cum for me, Princess.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you released yourself on your hand. You were panting and clenching around nothing, wishing you were with Chris right now.

He growled loudly as he released himself on his hand and shirt. “Look what you did to me, Baby.” He sat up just enough to show you, causing you to laugh at the sight of his messed up top.

In exchange, you showed him your slick coated fingers before you licked them clean. Blood rushed to his cock again, but he took a deep breath to calm down. “All good now?”

“Yes! Thank you, Sir.” You smiled, content and satisfied.

He wiped his hand clean with his shirt, after he removed it and let you admire his broad chest and inked drawings. “I’m giving you extra homework.”

Your smile disappeared and you squinted, mentally preparing for more readings or an extra essay on how good he fucked you. It would be your third or fourth, you ran out of synonyms to explain that he made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Take a shower and a nap, I’ll get to this meeting and meet you back home, okay?”

Your face lit up again, and you clapped happily.

“See? I can be fun when I want to.”

[daimonhalos]

Appreciation post for the eggpire and more during the red banquet cause I'm not seeing enough love for how well they organized and delivered and because I'm so proud of cc!Bad for how far the Bloodvines arc has gone ♥ (this stuff is from Bad's vod btw)

Also something to cheer people up a bit in case the lore got u hard like it got me cause I'm still not okay bestie <3

The starting soon screen being an animation (with glitches to show another frame!!) plus the jazzy electro-swing soundtrack underneath. Just such a good intro, I felt like I was actually in the waiting line for an event, just awesome.

Ponk. Just Ponk, dapper man, handsome Ponk just standing there. Gorgeous, thank you, standing ovation, I love him.

Just everything Bad and Ant did with the building of the room, the stairs!! The coat room!!! The statues right in front of the table, everything looked SO pretty.

ANT MY BELOVED LOOKING HANDSOME AS ALWAYS I just loved all their outfits. The banquet's skins just SLAPPED HARD.

The little moment where Bad changed view of his character and we could see him, Ant and Ponk cwc

Bad singing >>>>>>>>>>

Everyone getting lost despite the oak signs

THE ARC ABOVE THE DANCEFLOOR, WHAT THE HELL YOO

Bad complimenting everyone on their outfits and giving out some gapples here and there

Bad also always repeating the same catchphrases

Sam just drinking copiously and the dumpy situation

People actually dancing + HBomb being the dj

Puffy walking around Bad to see his outfit and complimenting him, just felt like their old friendship cwc

FOOLISH GAVE BAD A FLOWER <3

Bad scolding George for not wearing an outfit (Sam's "his name is Gogy and he is beautiful")

"It's almost time for the feast. It's gonna be delicious." the foreshadowing

Everyone dancing together cwc

"minecraft dancing is speed squats" eret ilu

Bad and Ant complimenting moment ♥

The eggpire all on the same side of the table. Them

Ponk's little "Hello!" after Bad said he made the soup, plus everyone going "good job!!" just twt

When Bad started asking if anyone wanted to give a toast, I realized eventually that this was more of a disguised "Want to say your last words before death?" and it now sounds s o freaking cool. ye s

P O N K 'S S P E E C H

"you look beautiful right now" sam i will cry

When in the middle of his speech, Bad turns to Ant who's already looking at him, nods, Ant nods back, and as Bad turns around again we can see Ant walking away from his seat. I am OBSESSED with this scene, like you already know something is about to go down and oh gosh it was delivered so good

THE LAVA COMING DOWN FROM THE CEILING AS BAD KEPT TALKING, NONE NOTICING, HIM TALKING ABOUT HOW THE BANQUET WILL BE UNFORGETTABLE. SO HOT

"And yeah! Thank you for coming everybody" the little mischievous giggles right after "And prepare uh ... yep. Prepare to die." AND THEN HE FUCKIGN DRINKS FROM HIS GLASS LIKE COME ON YOU CANT BE ANY COOLER THAN THAT YOOO

"The leaf is staying the way it is" you can hear the laughter in his voice like HAH GOTTEM that's so good

Bad still giving Hbomb gapples cwc

"Where you looking for this perchance?" AND THEN EQUIPS THE ENTIRE ARMOR AND WEAPONS E Y E when the twists started dude. this si where the twists started and never ended

HANNAH CROSSING SIDES AND SIDING WITH THE EGGPIRE. QUEEN SHIT that was such a cool moment for her i'm so glad she's getting her moment

The eggpire laughing, just pure villainy, love them

"Time to get on the main event" the nonchalance. The way they equipped the crossbows and readied the arrows at the same time. B r u h fucking awesome they are

The eggpire faking being afraid when Sam was talking about blowing the egg up. Sad that we already knew about the obsidian thing, but still made it a very cool scene. Especially right after when they started laughing at them again. I don't know what it is about it but I love them being so sassy.

FREAKING EXECUTIONS THEY WORKED FOR MASS EXECUTIONS they were able to trap all those freaking people!! And trick them and counter attack all the time! what the fuck, I'm so impressed

Thank you Fundy for sounding super terrified /gen ♥

Wait ahah they really said EGGSECUTION-

THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES im not saying IT but im saing Velvet

"Follow me! Follow me!" HANNAH SOUNDED SO ENTHUSIASTIC i love

"We trusted you!" "Well, that was your first mistake-" THE WAY BAD WAS ABOUT TO LAUGH. DUDE they definitely had so much fucking fun making this

sassyboyhalo

Foolish acting thank u ily. Also the thunder not working what the heck i wanna know what was going on inside his mind right then he sounded so lost. THE ACTING

"Sacrifice!" Hannah idk how to say this but I love you

ANT MOMENTTTT

When puffy called them selfish i was expecting bad to just do a huge double take. I wanted him to snap immediately PLEASE SNAP-

BAD DELIVERING AGAIN WITH THE AMAZING ACTING

"Not just for the egg but for what the egg is going to give us" he's so desperately trying to make them udnerstand it promised him his friend back he literally mentions it every single time but everyone calls him selfish because they think he wants power when he just wants skeppy's friendship back in this essay I will- Anyway yes I love that he never explicitly says it because it kills us viewers with pain cause we KNOW and then the reveal will be 100 times more powerful. This is so awesome

"I can't stop Quackity and you know why I can't stop. If I stop I can't get what I need." his voice grew so much lower like he's just holding back MAN I HH IT WAS SO GOOD

SECRET RETREAT ROOM YOOO

Ponk giving Bad some food and telling him to stay safe, Bad telling both Hannah and Ponk to stay safe too. My tears

And now the solo Bad lore part, where we actually see the true part of him that's absolutely devastated and makes me cry, the way he acted all confident and then saw everything crumble in a few seconds and now he's destroyed again because what if they find a way to destroy the egg what then? what if he never gets skeppy back? dude, you can just read his emotions it's so sad and i love how it was portrayed

"I know where I can go. I know who I can see!" BDI REF BDI REF FOR SURE I have a feeling that's going to be explained in the next lore stream with Skeppy and I'm so hype. I love the little crumbs of references here and there.

"But now they have it.." he sounded so broken??? bad your acting please ill cry

"I didn't really want to hurt anybody" his true self trying to get back cwc especially because he's farther away from the egg. I just love the transition between the guy Bad portrays who's so sure about the egg when it's in front of others and the doubts and anxiety he actually has when he's alone. Just so cool

"Did I screw up?" im just pointing out everything that moves me emotionally cause these people's acting is so cool

Ending the stream with simple black background my beloved

Okay but really I'm so so so proud of the ccs for making this happen and it's only going upwards, I'm literally so in awe, they really said go big or go home

Free space for Ant's villain speech I wasn't able to hear yet, but they said it was v cool, so I'm trusting people on this

Thank you for listening, stan Bloodvines arc /hj

If I made typos no I didn't

[cielcius]

There’s No Cheese & Crackers in Prison, Katsuki || Bakugou Katsuki

Pairings: Bakugou x g/n!reader

A/N this has to be one of my favorite tiktok audios istg i laugh at every vid w this audio. also, if anybody catches the spongebob meme reference, ily

Genre: pure crack, i don’t think any other of my works can beat this

Notes/Warnings: unedited!! mentions of hiding a body, implications/mentions of death, katsuki just woke up n is confuzzled, reader is doing a joke on katsuki w a tiktok audio, reader is laying on katsuki, sleepy katsuki just goes along w it lmao, shoto might know how to hide a body (vʘ_ʘ)v

“katsuki! wake up, katsuki!” bleary red eyes appear to meet yours, eyelids slowing blinking open and shut to make sure that it was you that katsuki was hearing. not only that, but you had been standing above his head as if the rest of your body wasn’t flat laid out on his own.

“wha—“

“come on, katsuki, we’ve got to hide the body! there’s no cheese and crackers in prison, katsuki! who will they believe? a man, or his dog?”

at that, his eyes shoot wide open to form wide saucers. “say that again, it’s too dark in here.” what the fuck.

“they don’t allow dogs in jail, katsuki! they’ll put you down! now come on!”

“why would they— who— what the fuck?”

suddenly, his overly confused expression becomes too much for you and you burst into laughter, all the while katsuki stays laying in bed still trying to figure out what just happened.

“so where’s the body?”

“katsuki, it was a joke!”

katsuki sits up, eyes glazed over with his bed head hair stuck up in a daze. “but what if it isn’t? we can get that half-n-half to help us. i’m sure he knows how to hide a body.” katsuki grabs your shoulders with both hands, obviously lost in his own words and too out of it to even realize how absurd he sounds.

“why would todoroki know how to hide a body?” katsuki opens his mouth but says nothing before closing it. “katsuki?” he keeps eye contact with you. “katsuki.”

“he just knows, okay? we’ll go with that.”

“LIKE HELL, WE WILL. WHOSE BODY DID YOU HIDE?”

“DON’T ASK ME, ASK ICYHOT.”

[gallifreyanlibertea]

Coincidence

a/n: @inkwells-writing: My AP World History teacher was a loveable asshole and my AP Chemistry teacher was a dork so have this. I’m sorry this didn’t satisfy your toe kink... :( 

Arthur woke to the impending doom that was a stack of essays on his nightstand table. The throbbing pain in his temples told him that no, he had not fallen asleep grading them like a good teacher, but had instead obliged to the whims of his coworkers and tossed back a couple of drinks until he’d forgotten his last name. Kirk-something was it?

Arthur turned his gaze toward the conveniently formatted papers, in which, underneath the writer’s name was consistently printed a Mr. Arthur Kirkland.

Kirkland, yes, of course. He blinked his groggy eyes.

There was no harm in letting go once in awhile, yes? It wasn’t often that he’d let himself go to this extent, but it had happened and that was that. No need to go back and lament. Besides, another day behind on reading and he might get the raw satisfaction of making his students wait longer for their grade. Oh, he loved to feel evil, Arthur felt a smile tug on his lips despite the parched, dry state of his throat.

It was easy to blame teachers when grades came in late, Arthur even remembered cursing some of his own to hell and back, but oh boy. Being one was so much different. Torturing his students was as fun as his job got, and if it was another excuse to go out and party like he wouldn’t end up breaking a hip, he would take it.

All in good-natured fun, of course.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, blinking to find himself surprisingly unclothed.

It didn’t faze him. One would expect him to… empty the contents of his stomach after, maybe, the fourth drink, naturally. Even his piss-drunk-est self wouldn’t let him sleep in soiled clothes.

His vision blurred for a painful bit before he hissed aloud and held his head in his hands. “Damn.”

“I know a good family recipe for hangovers that I think would be of service to you!”

“I definitely need that service,” Arthur replied with a chuckle, letting himself be pulled into a warm, comforting embrace, fingers under his chin tilting his head up as lips peppered his forehead in kisses.

Oh, the way those arms wrapped around his bare waist, pulling him to a strong, sturdy chest, to hell with the hangover, with those essays. They could wait another few hours, it was hardly ever he got time for himself to enjoy, responsibility-free, stress-free-

Stress-free only to the extent of which those green eyes of his blinked open, wide as saucers, because he hadn't been in a relationship in what felt like forever.

So who was in his bed?

Arthur used every last bit of strength in his arms to push the man far away, holding the bedsheets to his chest like a vice, “Who the hell are you, mate?”

The look he got in response wasn't like something you would expect from a stranger in bed. The man tilted his head, confused. He shifted to prop an elbow up, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “Are you alright?”

Arthur held his breath. “Uh-”

The man turned to the nightstand, slipped a pair of glasses onto the bridge of his nose and Arthur felt every drop of energy drip out of his system. His sheets dropped back down to pool at his waist.

“Mr. Jones?”

“I think at this point, you can call me Alfred.” Mr. Jones said with a dreamy smile, propelling himself forward to no doubt plant another kiss wherever was closest on Arthur’s skin.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Arthur found himself jerking backward, “What- wh, why are you in my…”

“You don't remember?”

It was a silly question to ask. Taking into consideration of their lack of clothes, of the hangover wracking Arthur's skull, of the fact that they'd woken up in the same bed- Arthur was no Sherlock Holmes but he was pretty damn sure what had happened and he wished with every cell in his body that it hadn't.

Because this man taught the class directly across from him, and Mondays were already hell, but now, to walk into school and see a man he’d spent the night with, to see that face every single day?

Arthur crossed his arms. “Mr. Jones, you need to leave. Now.”

“I-” Mr. Jones sat up and those sheets fell away from his shoulders, making it extremely difficult for Arthur to be stern.

No matter how badly behaved his students were, Arthur could always relentlessly crack the whip. But they had never been naked in his bed, and they had never been built like a tank, with biceps, or triceps, or numerous other -ceps that seemed to come out of nowhere. Arthur had definitely never seen them behind those button-down shirts Mr. Jones would wear to work.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Mr. Jones-” A furrow of those brows framing those sad, sad blue eyes and Arthur cleared his throat, hand pressing reassuringly against a pectoral before him.

And for other reasons too, of course- “Alfred, I just-”

Oh, that face. The same expression that fell across those features when Alfred caught one of his students cheating on an exam- he was, by many and all definitions, a more empathetic teacher than Arthur could even try to be.

Arthur would watch him as he flitted around his class, blue eyes sparkling with wonder at the thought of being surrounded by atoms, that the whole world’s workings divided down into the subject he so lovingly taught.

“Chemistry!” He would say, loud enough to catch Arthur’s attention as he watched his class silently take a quiz. “You guys, chemistry is everything!”

And Arthur would grumble, resting his chin in his hands because history was quite literally everything as well, yet his students never got hyped up about hunter-gatherer societies undergoing the agricultural revolution.

What was Alfred’s secret? Arthur had always wanted to ask, hell, he vaguely remembered doing so last night- slurring over the rim of his umpteenth drink wondering aloud how anyone could make Coulomb’s Law as interesting as Alfred did. So interesting that Arthur himself would pause his teaching on many an occasion to listen in on Alfred’s lectures, after which he would shut the door and resume with a scowl.

Needless to say, Arthur didn’t remember Alfred’s answer.

“I have quite a few essays to grade that I would be better off doing in an empty house. To avoid distraction, that is.”

Alfred broke out into a grin, “I know you like to hold off grading those!”

Damn. What else had he told him last night?

“If I hold off any longer, I think I might warrant angry letters from parents,” Arthur said with a nervous chuckle, shifting to the far edge of the bed.

Alfred shifted with him and peeked over at the nightstand, crinkling his nose. “The dates on those look fairly recent.”

He then turned back to Arthur with a sunny smile. “Maybe you had them confused?”

“Yes, it’s possible I- oh.”

Alfred had climbed on him. Yes, literally, like a dog craving attention, he had hoisted himself quite literally to hover above Arthur, smirk pushing a dimple into his cheek. “So what say you about a round two?”

“I think I have another set of essays somewhere in the back to, um-”

“God, you make me so hot,” Lips were at Arthur’s ear and green eyes fluttered wide open. “Heh- I guess you could say, you’re quite the exothermic reaction.”

“My parents are coming over in half an hour!”

Alfred paused, expression mimicking the faux-panic on Arthur’s features. “What?”

“Yes, my parents, they-” Arthur sat up straight, hands coaxing Alfred’s warm body off of him- somewhere, anywhere, God, just somewhere that was not above him. “They want to see what I’ve done with the place.”

“You should’ve led with that.” Alfred said naively, blinking as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Gosh, I’d better leave then.”

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded, and damn he was either one good actor or Alfred was just one gullible man. Something told him it was the latter.

Alfred slipped out of bed to hunt for his clothes and Arthur fought the urge to look.

“Say, why don’t you put your number in my phone and I could call you sometime tomorrow?”

Arthur would not be doing that. “Er- yes, of course.”

A man like Alfred- if he were already this attached after one night, Arthur could just imagine how it would be after a date. To top it off, they were coworkers, it wasn’t ethical!

Besides, Alfred could do better than a shifty man like him whose nightmares were commitment itself.

“Phone’s next to your essays. The password is 1776.”

Arthur couldn’t help the smile working its way onto his face. How predictable... He then went back to frowning, feigning the action of plugging his number into Alfred’s phone.

It was for their own good! They weren’t compatible, it wouldn’t work, and this was the only way to ensure their careers would be unaffected by the disaster that would ensue when two very different types of people decided to date.

“I guess I’ll leave then.”

Alfred put on his clothes and Arthur remembered why he’d been so eager to bed him in the first place, drunk or not.

Mr. Jones was a stud.

“And I guess you’ll call me by tomorrow.” Arthur said with a laugh, burrowing under his sheets, “With the number I put in… on your phone.”

“That’s the plan,” Alfred said with a wink and he was gone. Out the front door, with a phone that didn’t have Arthur’s number on it, dropping a two-ton weight on Arthur’s chest as the door clicked shut.

He slipped on his underwear and a pair of reading glasses, deciding to grade an essay before freshening up. It was unfair, truly, to the student who wrote it because Arthur was not in a very forgiving mood.

Nor was he usually ever, but even more so today- Like he always tended to be after trying situations such as these, not that they were quite common either.

He tended to be quite different in class.

Arthur was a man of a gentleman demeanor. One that could lock up any feelings that conflicted with his normal behavior behind it, feelings such as those that would be brought about by a particularly annoying member in his class, or someone telling him they didn’t remember the homework assignment had ever been given.

In those cases, he would keep a straight face and deliver a proper punishment. Not one tinge of red in his cheeks, not one word that hadn’t already been rehearsed in his head minutes before the conversation.

And it had been that way until the fateful day Mr. Jones had begun to work in their school.

He brought with him leagues of distracted students. Girls who spent more time admiring him through the windows of Arthur’s class, taking discreet pictures as if Arthur wouldn’t catch them and force them to move seats far away from the window view.

He did.

It was all so confusing, how childish little teenagers would throw away perfectly good education, perfectly good opportunities to get A’s on every single exam he’d administer, just to gawk at a man who would never give them a second glance.

“Could I borrow a marker? Mine is dry.” Had been the first thing Alfred had said to him though, and forget everything Arthur had just said, because he was gawking. Stuttering for the first time.

“Um, I-” Exposed. Arthur had paused in his movements pacing back and forth the classroom, as he usually did when he lectured. His hands had fumbled on his desk, “What color?”

“Any color you can spare!” Mr. Jones had said with a dazzling smile and Arthur needed to sit.

“Is green alright?”

“Green!” Alfred had taken it from his hands, leaving Arthur nearly shuddering at the touch of those warm, rough fingertips. “Green is perfect! Beautiful.”

And Arthur knew Alfred couldn’t possibly be talking about Arthur’s eyes, or the sweater Arthur had been wearing that day, but it felt like it and Arthur had to sit right down, turning to scowl at his snickering students upon Alfred’s leave.

“I hope you find it funny when I give you a pop quiz right this instant!”

So of course when Francis, the French teacher down the hall, had asked him out for drinks, promising with twinkling eyes that Alfred would be there as well, Arthur had foolishly gone, pretending it was due to a stressful week. Pretending it was due to anything that wasn’t wanting to see Alfred outside of school.

Despite the fact that Alfred had proposed sharing a lunch break the day he returned the green marker, and despite the fact that Arthur rejected not only that offer, but many others that had manifested themselves, he simply had to go get those drinks. For some bloody reason, Arthur was drawn to him, yet at the same time repelling like the wrong end of the magnet nearing another.

He thought about it all weekend, leading to the moment he’d walked right back into school on Monday, a bit late, seeing as the first bell had already rung before he’d walked into class.

He set his bag down behind his desk. “You’ve got a pop quiz on chapter eleven. Prepare as much as you can before I can get out your graded essays.”

The chorus of groans only served to quirk the corner of his mouth up in a sly smile. “And it’s not curved.”

“Mr. Kirkland!”  

Arthur had taken a little longer than he would’ve to set the essays on his desk, but when he did, a timer was set and a relatively simple yet lengthy quiz was passed out, giving him a bit of time to leisurely grade the one or two essays left to grade.

He couldn’t fully focus the whole weekend. Not when small tidbits of Friday night came back to him every now and then, putting a nasty red on his cheeks, forcing him to take a break and… once in awhile, relieve the tension they brought him. He was only human!

Which is why he averted his eyes as he unwittingly caught the blue-eyed gaze of the teacher across the hallway, who’d stopped midway in his lesson to cast a rather sad look in Arthur’s direction.

Arthur chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Now if you guys will get to work on your labs, I’ll be right back!” He heard Alfred say and he practically buried himself in the essay in front of him, pretending to be occupied, nonchalant, indifferent, all at once, all to keep Alfred from walking to the threshold of Arthur’s classroom and knocking gently against the wooden door.

Which he did anyway.

“Hey, Mr. Kirkland, can I see you for a second? I’m having problems with my computer.”

“You should ask Mr. Honda in the math hall, he’s far better at technology than I am,” Arthur responded all too quickly, flipping to the next page in the essay and marking a word with a red pen. “Besides, my class is taking a quiz right now, I can’t leave them, sorry.”

Those blue eyes dimmed down even further and Arthur didn’t know Alfred could own an expression so distraught.

And it was all Arthur’s fault.

“Alright, thanks anyway.”

“Yeah, good luck with your computer, mate.”

Arthur was a horrible, horrible person.

He didn’t believe it when he gave out multiple choice quizzes where all the answers were B, he didn’t believe it when he took fifty points off an essay for botched formatting, yet with that look on Alfred’s face, Arthur was ready to have the insult tattooed on his forehead. He deserved it. He was a grade-A ass.

One that couldn’t bring himself to tell Alfred he wasn’t interested, even though he so clearly was. One that couldn’t bring himself to ask Alfred to leave him alone even though it was the last thing Arthur wanted.

Arthur was a mess and Alfred had caught himself in the crossfire.

The dismissal bell rang faster than Arthur would’ve liked, despite the school having a block schedule, and he watched as his students left the room, leaving quizzes at his desk and picking up unsatisfactory essay grades on their way out.

“You know, Arthur-”

A startled jump and Arthur bit his lip, eyeing the surface of his desk as his fingers fumbled with the fabric of his sweater.

Alfred had walked in during Arthur’s free period and there was no excuse coming to Arthur’s mind, not one that would save him from this, frankly inevitable, confrontation.

“The oxygen in the water molecule has two lone pairs of electrons, and electrons always repel each other.”

Arthur pretended he knew that information.

“They push the hydrogen molecules toward each other, and despite one hydrogen desperately wanting to get as far away as possible from the other one, they’re forced together by the lone pairs pushing them down.”

Alfred touched Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur recoiled, just slightly.

“There doesn’t have to be those two lone pairs for us.”

Despite the unnecessary chemistry analogy, Arthur got it. There was no need to be pushed together if Arthur wanted to get as far away as possible. A far-fetched comparison, but he got it.

“Well, I mean, if there weren’t two lone pairs on the oxygen we’d all be nonexistent.”

Arthur glanced up to find Alfred rather flustered. “Not! Not that I’m saying we have to be together for the sake of the human race or anything, er- it was a bad analogy, but if you don’t want me to bug you just let me know.”

A man of admirable quality. Arthur cleared his throat. “Friday night was a mistake I’d never intended to make- I hadn’t been fully conscious.”

“Me neither!” Alfred blurted, “Or else I wouldn’t have let it happen, I mean, because you couldn’t consent. Not that I... didn’t want it to happen.”

“I don’t think it, um, we should be more than that. A mistake.”

“Okay.” Was Alfred’s response, punctuated with a light smile. It was enough closure for Arthur to have gotten back to his work and for Alfred to have gotten back to his, yet for some odd reason, Arthur couldn’t stop.

It was as if he was convincing himself. “I mean, we’re co-workers, what if something went wrong and we brought our feelings into the workplace?”

“Well, if we fought, I think you’d be able to handle it pretty fine, you never seem to lose your cool.” Alfred remarked, “And me? You never gave me your number and despite that, I think I handled my class today just fine.”

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat. “There would be rumors.”

“The rumors would be true.” Alfred said with a shrug, “Besides, it’s not like we’d parade it around school. If they ask, we don’t have to tell.”

“We can’t date, though,” Arthur muttered, fists clenched atop the surface of his desk. “We just can’t, I’m sorry.”

“And that’s okay, it’s what I came here to say, don’t feel pressured to comply with what I want,” Alfred said with a grin, and Arthur really could’ve left it at that. Alfred seemed to carry himself well, he would be fine, and everything would be back to normal, but he just… couldn’t.

“Although, I find myself craving a sandwich from that coffee house near the supermarket. It really is quite good.”

“I’ll have to try it out,” Alfred said, and Arthur glanced up to find him plucking a pen from his pocket, scribbling a note onto his wrist to which Arthur had to force himself not to chide him for the habit.

One couldn’t reveal their true colors so quickly.

“I think I’ll be there, what, this evening? Around seven?”

Alfred stilled his motion, clicking his pen so that the point receded back into its shell.

“If you happen to be there around the same time, I can’t do anything about it.”

“Nothing more than a coincidence,” Alfred said with a smile, and Arthur dared not smile back, lest a student saw and discovered that he was not just a shell of a human with not a single emotion inside, as he tended to quite frequently appear.

After all, there would be plenty of smiling in the numerous other coincidences to come.

[frogtanii]

hey froggy!! i submitted this to ya but i think my wifi may have crapped out when i tried. i wrote this on a whim because kenma has been one of my favs in Poker Face! it’s kind of a song fic based on the song feelings by dana vaughns. i kinda proof read it but also wrote this very sleepy after i read the chapter of the osamu & yn encounter so it may not be the best lmaoo. love your work my friend!! can’t wait to see more!

—

it had been a long day, to say the least. kenma was tired. he had been avoiding mirrors the more she had been present in his life. that was until you had walked into his life. well really until he noticed that you were the person that he truly had been missing. it wasn’t her, it was you.

though meiko was supposedly the love of his life, he and the other boys who had left her were finally breaking free from her hold. and with that came all of the baggage. the trauma. the lingering thoughts that she plagued each one of them with when she had them in her grasp. the most prominent for kenma being the image of himself that he held.

he wasn’t as big, strong, or tall as his other housemates. he didn’t work out like most of them tended to. he had a lean physique, though he only saw it as scrawny. too small to love, or to do anything that was of use. and though everyone, even the therapist that sakusa had referred him to, said that his body was perfect the way that it was he never really believed them.

been sitting alone for hours, can’t seem to get you off my mind

he wanted to seek you out, but he also felt bad. he knew that you had also just recently had your encounter with osamu and didn’t want to drain you anymore emotionally. but his feet had a mind of their own and he found himself at your door that was slightly open. he peered in and you seemed to be just laying on your back staring at the ceiling. the other boys seemed to be gone, but he knocked nonetheless. he didn’t want to intrude after all.

before you fall asleep imma ring your doorbell. throw a rock at your window, come down

but with one look you knew the thoughts that plagued his mind. they were the same ones that had filled his head since the beginning when you had initially started to open up to each other. so instead of words you patted the space beside you and returned to peering up at your ceiling. kenma softly made his way onto the bed and laid with your bodies a few inches apart. the two of you stayed like that for what seemed like a while until you spoke.

you’re all in my mind, i’m all in my feelings

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect kenma. that you are worth it. that you are worth loving. your body is no less because you’re not as beefy as bokuto, or as tall as sakusa. you don’t need to be a ‘big presence’ to have a big presence. you alone, all that you are, is enough to light up an entire room without any effort. because you are kenma kozume. you’re human. genuine. and even though you did some shitty things to me in the past, i’d go as far to say that we’re friends,” you reached your hand over to his and gave a gentle squeeze.

you should know. hope that you know. that you’re perfect to me

he could tell that you were exhausted, with the bags under your eyes and your hair a bit disheveled from laying in bed for so long. but he was so grateful for all that you had been doing for him and so he didn’t leave you. because kenma knew that you were worth it too. you were worth losing sleep over just to make sure you were okay. you were worth the stupid investigation that they had brought upon you because they had been shitty. hell, you were worth losing his contract with the house over. you were worth it all and he’d be there as long as you needed him.

has anybody told you that you’re perfect? has anybody told you that you’re worth it? if they haven’t baby, i apologize for them

BESTIE BESTIIIEEEE THIS IS SO FCKN GOOD TY FOR RESUBMITTING IT ILY THIS IS INCREDIBLE <33333

[whale-shark-queen]

Hey I’m sorry about the rude asks <3 I don’t get why people get so mad about “pronouns in bio”. People just want to know what to refer to you as, imo it’s no different than saying “my name is Luna”, I want people to know that’s what to call me. i don’t want to refer to someone by the wrong name or use the wrong pronouns for them, so I want to know what they are and having them in their bio saves time from needing to ask “hey what’s your name / pronouns?”. Wanting to know someone’s name doesn’t have to be asking for “personal info” too, sometimes you just want to know what to call someone by.

Aww thank you, and yeah like I know idiots like to think anybody with pronouns is some brainwashed government controlled blue haired sheep but ....everybody has pronouns. Pronouns aren't something limited to the online spaces and types of people those idiots think. Those idiots have pronouns too. Putting them in your bio just makes it easier for others to know how to refer to you in conversation.

I mean idk if I'll even be sticking with she/her in the future as I'm very much questioning my identity and very confuzzled about it. I'm okay with being referred to as she/her but I do not consider myself a 'woman' and cringe at the thought of referring to my younger self as a 'girl'. I also wish I was AMAB but as for what exactly I identify as...I don't even know. Either way whatever weird jealousy that anon has and has kept for like...a year? Can get fucked. I'm with the sweetest guy in the world anyway (@melkior ily💙💙💙)

[bethchapelsbonnet]

I Dont remember if it Was on you're Ways to Tell ILY Prompt list but might I suggest a "I Choose you" Hournite One shot?

I didn't see you interact with the original submission I answered, so I included it here

I Choose You

All of the fuss that Beth went through to try to compile each and every piece of evidence that someone may need in order to get Rick the heck out of that place was simply... Well - it was actually exhausting, but she never realized until she was at the end of her days.

The database was always excellent and as the official Dr. Mid-Nite, she had access to even more information.

Not what she truly needed - to be able to actually speak to Rick. To assess how he was doing. To at least hold his hand, which.. she was conflicted about that one in particular. She didn't understand why that idea kept coming to her when she and Rick never actually really touched each other that way.

Casually - pats on the back or holding each other back in a fight, but nothing so intimate as hand holding. Maybe it was her renewed self confidence. She had chosen herself. And now, she was choosing Rick. 

They didn't allow any of them to see him. He was currently being held at a juvenile center, assigned a caseworker and a child advocate attorney, with an ongoing investigation about his uncle and his home life. But, Beth found out the names of everyone involved in his case and she was sending them documents, school reports, and everything that she could scrape up to prove that Rick was in a dangerous household and had been abused and mistreated. 

It was her hope that they would all see it was self defense and go easy on him. Courtney and Pat had tried to explain to her that Eclipso was controlling him. It wasn't self defense. It was just a terrible mind game.

Not too long ago, they were pressing her to accept murdering a bad guy… but suddenly, when it's THIS bad guy… who didn't even DIE, they were willing to accept Rick turning himself in and being put away? "It's what Rick wanted, to be held accountable.."

"He didn't DO it! It was Eclipso!" Beth had snapped at Courtney. Courtney's eyes went wide and she got quiet. Of course she knew that and she didn't deserve Beth being rude with her, either, but Beth was too frustrated to tell herself that at the moment and Rick wasn't around…

She called him anyway, as she stormed out. 

"Rick!" She took a deep breath, "You don't deserve to be held responsible for something that you didn't do wrong!" She noticed Courtney in the corner of her eye and whispered, "There's nothing you need to be held accountable for and I'm working on helping you get out. Just… I hope you aren't too hard on yourself." She hung up and looked at Courtney.

"I watched him run around, hallucinating, breaking down as he was attacked by something that we couldn't see… it was like with Yolanda, only someone did get hurt. I didn't want to have to see that again and it wasn't easy to let Rick confess, but what else could we do? What would you have done differently?"

Beth wanted to say that she wouldn't have let him out of her sight, that she would have talked to him until he was back down to Earth..  but as a firm believer in herself, some part of her knew that Courtney didn't have that type of power. Beth was the one who could stop Rick in his tracks and make him think for a moment. 

"What about when you see a dead 10 year old girl? Would you have been able to use your head in that moment and stop him from reacting?"

Beth sniffled and wiped her face, "If I was here, I know that I could have fixed this. I know that I could have talked him down. He listens to me. It's different with us. And with Eclipso… it's personal now."

.

Rick heard about an "adorable but incredibly annoying" girl who spoonfed a lot of information to his case worker and his advocate. They didn't have to describe her. He did initially automatically think Courtney, since that was who saw him last on the outside and that's who annoyed him more than any girl he knew…

But when they spoke about legal documents, school incidents and cases and studies of similar cases..  He knew that they meant Beth. A lot of her findings needed to be double checked by the proper authorities and his advocate would need to speak with a judge, but it was looking like Rick may be entitled to psychological treatment from years of abuse that resulted in him finally lashing back.

He wanted to argue with that, but in a way.. that felt like some type of hope and he couldn't say there wasn't truth in it. Whatever Beth had done, he finally felt some peace of mind, since coming here…

.

The court order to grant him a placement took shorter than he thought, even though it still felt super long. The Chapels weren't foster parents, but thanks to some… creative documentation on Beth's part, they were able to be listed as family friends to whom custody could be signed over.

He would be trying for emancipation, but in the meantime, he had a place to sleep and eat and stuff… and Beth was there.

"How did you manage to pull this off?" Rick wondered, more confused than grateful, but she didn't take it to heart. She smiled and tapped her goggles. "Of course…" he stared at his bags on the floor. "Did you get the full story?"

"I got Courtney and Pat's side of it. You don't have to tell me, but in your own time, if you want to, you can." She handed him some mail, "I filled out your paperwork and sent it in. You've gotten at least one response."

"My paperwork?"

She winced, "I totally trespassed into your car and home, scanning everything and looking for something to help me. I traced punched in walls, I took an inventory of the alcohol in there, you name it. I also found the forms that you had for college and financial aid. I took them with me, but also wondered what they were doing there. So I checked on cell phone records and saw that Miss Woods-" she rolled her eyes when she said her name. (She wasn't fond of how cruelly that woman had treated Rick, and she didn't mind saying so), "Had been there. I figured she was the one who gave those to you, went to pay her a visit and questioned her until she told me about what happened earlier. She had seen your uncle and he was belligerent and drinking. I told her that I would speak to your advocate in order to see if that was usable information. It was. She made for a very dependable character reference."

Rick looked stunned. He didn't know what to say, but eventually landed on, "Why am I at your house and not at Pat's? I don't even know your parents and they probably aren't pleased about what happened." 

"Well, I believe that I've managed to do quite the PR campaign for you when I was making my rounds to see if anybody had recollection of witnessing your uncle be unkind to you. A lot of people have been quiet about things that they should have spoken up about… myself included.." she lowered her head, "I noticed bruises on you sometimes at lunch when we weren't friends and I guessed that they weren't from some school fight, otherwise, the school would know." She looked up at him and her eyes were brimming with tears, "All of us made choices to mind our business and just leave you to fend for yourself. Everybody's been feeling pretty guilty that it came to… that.."

She cleared her throat, "There's enough going on at Courtney's house, and Yolanda's isn't an option. I couldn't let you wind up at the group home. Artemis is there. The last time you two saw each other, you almost killed one another. I thought my home was the best choice. It's safe, there's just me here. My parents believed me when I vouched for you, so they would be acting like wardens or anything, and I just… I feel better knowing that if something happens, I'll be there."

He sat down on the guest bed and twiddled his thumbs, "That's just it. If something happens, I… I no longer have the hourglass. I won't be able to protect you fully."

"I can protect myself," she said, sitting next to him. "Just wait until you hear my Eclipso story."

"Your what?"

"He attacked me the same time that he attacked you…" Rick looked terrified as he checked her over for damages. "It's a long story, but I'm fine. It went very differently for me than it did for you." She looked sad for a moment. I think he must've known."

He was confused. Beth looked him in the eyes through her goggles, "That we protect each other. That you fight for me and I fight for you. I felt so victorious when I was able to take my goggles back from me and solidify my place on the team… the. I found out he had gotten to my Rick…" 

His heart jumped in his chest and he stared at her. He reached for her goggles but she shook her head and he withdrew his hands. "It wasn't anything to do with you."

"No, but had I been there…"

"Then you could have gotten hurt or had to see me become the very kind of monster that I hate!" 

She furrowed her eyebrows and she grabbed his hand, harder than she meant to, but that demanded his attention and he stared at her face, "If I had been there, you would've had the extra strength you needed to see through him. I wouldn't have let you fight. Please believe me when I say that I'm sure I could have talked some sense into you. I could have saved you from thinking that you're a monster. Because you aren't a monster, Rick. You're a kid who was in a situation that most of us can't fathom, and when you needed me, I wasn't there." He started crying and shook his head. "I'll understand if you want to stay with Mr. Dugan instead…"

"No. No.."He had told Grundy that day that he just needed someone to care about him, to be kind to him, and he could be alright. Rick was so caught up in the stress of his uncle, he hadn't thought about how he did have someone like that. He had his friends, the Dugans, and he had Beth. She had done all of this, because she felt like she'd failed him. Like she was supposed to protect him. She wasn't obligated to do that, but the fact that she wanted to, that she tried to. 

Hell, she was even correct about being able to talk him down. He didn't know if she could have that night, but as much as she meant to him… he couldn't rule out that what if. He collected her hand to his heart and said extremely softly, "I choose you." 

@futurewriterwannebe

[vintagedolan]

hey babe! im in awe with your writing🤍🤍 can u do 23 and 37 with grayson thanks ❤️❤️

tysm, ily!!!

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’“ & “Thank you, for everything”

You stirred the pasta around, making sure it was to your liking - just a little al dente - and were happy to find that it was perfect, so you began adding the sauce. For some unknown reason you’d felt like cooking, so you’d gone all out, deciding to make vegan fettuccine from scratch with some fresh bread, and a new vegan cheesecake for dessert. You doubled the recipes - it was Sunday, the boy’s cheat day, and you knew they were going to demolish it when they got home. 

And right on time you heard the familiar purr of the porsche in the driveway, signaling that the boys were back from their long work day downtown. They had no idea you were making anything, and you were honestly a little excited to see what they said. 

You could hear them talking about their day when they walked in, but they stopped as soon as they smelled dinner. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” was the first thing out of Ethan’s mouth when he came into the kitchen, which was very shortly followed with him getting slapped across the back of the head by his brother. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Grayson grumbled, but his face lit up a bit as he moved towards you. His hand went to your back, pushing your hips forward into his as he kissed you softly. He always did this when he got home - “making up for lost time”, he had once said. 

“Dinner’s ready, get some bowls,” you said once your lips were free.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Grayson sighed. He always said you did more than you needed to for him, and for his brother. 

“I know, I wanted to. Now get some before it gets cold,” you said, pressing one more kiss to his lips before moving away to grab a bowl that Ethan passed you. Everyone scooped their pasta and got some bread, immediately finding the closest seat and digging in. You hopped up onto the counter - didn’t matter how fancy the meal was, it was your favorite place to sit and eat. It was so good that you all barely talked until everyone’s bowls were practically empty. 

“This shit is amazing. Remind me to never let Grayson cook ever again, you win cooking privileges,” Ethan joked. Gray shoved him with his elbow. 

“Hey, don’t be getting mad cause you’re spoiled,” Ethan poked fun again, trying to get a rise out of his brother. You didn’t want to deal with their bickering so you stepped in.

“If anybody here is spoiled, it’s you E,” you reminded him. “I cook for you cause I’m nice, I cook for Grayson because I get something in return.”

Grayson choked on his pasta.

“LALALA EW DON’T WANNA KNOW,” Ethan exclaimed, dropping his fork to cover his ears like a child. You laughed, continuing to twirl the noodles around your fork as Grayson started cackling, holding up a fist for you to bump.

“You all are gross,” Ethan grumbled, eating his last bit of pasta and going to put his bowl in the sink. He disappeared quickly, but not without a “thanks for dinner even though you two disgust me!” before he was out of earshot. 

Grayson finished his pasta and was on his feet, immediately coming to the counter and standing between your legs, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

“So, you cooked for me to get something in return, huh?” He said, eyes devious.

“A thank you would suffice, Ethan is just perverted,” you grinned, proud of your jokes.

“Well thank you, for everything. Now for dessert,” he smiled his most mischievous smile, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the cheesiest line he could have possibly used. 

“I made cheesecake,” you deflected, but you barely got the words out before you squealed as he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, headed for his room.

“Not the kind of dessert I was referring to.”