#if you want me to do more math and figure out uh. how much weed it takes to get coco fuckin blitzed somehow. hit that subscribe button bayb

[lunearobservatory]

"New York, you've been quiet."

"That's new."

(tw alcohol)

There are ten visible 18oz cups on screen. Lowballing, I’m going to say this is all he has had. I’m also going to say each counts as 12oz since it’s possible they weren’t filled up all the way, also standard Budweiser can and bottle sizes are 12oz, so it’s an equivalent of one can/bottle per cup. I’m saying Budweiser bc it’s statistically the most popular beer in New York which. It’s also the most popular beer in the entire country so like. Whatever. I’m going for it.

Okay.

10*12oz=120oz

It could be either Budweiser (5%abv) or Bud Light (4.2%abv) and I’ll go with Bud Light, again going for the lower number.

In my heart of hearts I know this is Wildly going to affect the outcome of these results but God damnit I have NO other form of reference. So. I’m using Ben as a body ref. Personally I hc NY as around the same height anyway so fuckin? Sure I guess.

Ben is uhhh self stated to be 5’5 and 125lbs which LMAO I COULD THROW HIM SO FAR but also I’m gonna use that as the metric.

120oz of 4.2%abv for a 5’5 125lbs person is. HURRKKKHH A LOT LMFAO.

That rounds out to 0.29%bac (aprox 20h until 0%abv) at minimum

And for shits and giggles 0.5%bac (aprox 35h until 0%abv) at most (10*18oz(5%abv))

0.08%bac is the average level New Yorkers start feeling “drunk” (it’s also the legal driving limit lmao). The national average for that is 0.099%bac, so I feel comfortable saying it’s sssssimilar enough to just. Use those numbers with a pinch of salt which isn’t how math works but ffff.. Sshhh…

So basically, yeah, I guess based on my word and above numbers he’s anywhere between 0.29%-0.5%bac in that. If he’s only passed out that’s WILD LMAO

0.25%bac is starting stage 5 (level that passing out is listed at); 0.29%bac is the bottom line so it makes sense he would be passed out at this mark if his tolerance is above average which! Probably! It's fuckin New York!

But. 0.45%bac+ is like. Pretty damn assured death for errrrrrr. Most people!

So. Yeah! Between 116-200% tolerance when compared to average citizens. I know that’s a big discrepancy just play with me in this hypothetical math hell please!

The point of all this being. Yeah. I do maybe believe the states are a little tougher than humans and I had to justify it to myself in some semblance of reality

Thank you.

[spiderh0rse]

freeman's mind notes part 10, e46-50

e46

if he was hardcore... But you said TWO EPISODES AGO that you were

he doesn't mind too much that his new job seems to be killing people

mocks the xenians about earth gravity

thinks in the south, particularly florida and louisiana, you shoot at rescue helicopters to signal them. Well. i can't say anything to the contrary.

minefield >:[

tries to open ANOTHER giant metal door

haven't bombed this place enough? Well, no!

squirrel on the roof could be payback,,,

yells as he almost slips on the stairs

"this must be how old people feel about stairs..." and me! Stairs are a MENACE and a HAZARD TO SOCIETY. what is wrong with RAMPS, HUH?

we hear a sniper round impact the HEV suit

tries to pry open another large metal rolling door

"GRRAAAHHHHHHGHHHH"

not yet shot enough to take off all the orange paint

almost walks into a tripmine in plain sight. He's getting tired.

talks about snipers the way some people discuss clown husbandry

climbs on around this bullshit

figures out Xen's lower gravity

are there coyotes in new mexico? uh. probably

he thinks we'd be better at math and subsequently further along in technology if we had more fingers. I'd agree with that

MAYBE killing scared unarmed people doesn't make him the good guy

asks after a random guys finger amount

e47

he is not going to wait in this room

thinks things are just going to get worse forever

dumbfounded that this guy is afraid of a couple tripmines

either made vaguely uneasy by clowns or expects the other scientist to be afraid of em

doesn't notice the rockets as he shoots the headcrabs

sneezes :(

yeah he's realizing what's up with the rockets now. Doesn't seem too afraid though

checks a body for money. Admits the soldiers would have taken any

thinks a platform might have spikes that come out of it. Jumps onto it, wondering if he can trigger it. Sir.

considers the spike platform may be for an abattoir

squeezes on by some bars and onto the elevator

hivehand looks awful. He shoots it. No hivehand.

"BLAHHHHHHH."

surprisingly DOESN'T shoot at someone that runs towards him

"friends are like weeds that scream"

just wants a VEHICLE

always meant to learn how to hotwire a car

sobs when stuff starts shooting at him unexpectedly

the tank is NOT supposed to be here

its CLEARLY rocket launcher time

hes never joining the military

e48

new intro! a portion of On A Rail.

sobs as the tank shoots at him

"TELL REALITY TO STOP CHEATING"

grappling hook mention

boops out entry of the gladiators

ANOTHER sniper

yells at the soldiers that there's a sniper outside

can't turn off the radio. Smashes it.

he wouldn't make a good surgeon.

he likes when people call him "sir." I'd forgotten about that I just feel like being polite when I address his more insane notions.

Eddie mention! This time to sell the contents of that giant room full of ordinance

"this might be a warzone but theres money to be made here" war profiteer

can Eddie even handle this many guns? He'll sure try. He gets a sparkle in his eye. Same one he had before going to Panama. That turned out! A way!

if he knew where he were going a few hundred people would be alive rn

he's always wanted a Crown Victoria from a police auction. Drive it around with the stripes, put some fake blood on the hood...

does seem reasonably friendly towards that one guard for a bit. Not enough to wait for him but enough to be almost nice

"nee!"

"hoop bup pah!"

admits he's kind of dropped the kill everyone policy he had

he wants to train a chimp on karate to attack everyone but him

man this guy just LOVES roleplaying as Respectable Professions (Meant To Be Here optional)

shoots the guard on accident. Feels a bit bad but mostly just angry

e49

thinks soldiers are less likely to change history than any random people

...okay he can bust down large doors. Okay.

"I'M NOT ALLERGIC TO BEES, ASSHOLE" sentence you do not hear often

just taking so much electricity to the face. Yelps every time he does

wants to hook up the vortigaunts to a generator

screams when the trampoline bounces him up. does a weird little whine immediately afterwards

the last time he was juggled in the air did NOT go well

"everybody wins! :D especially me"

kills SO many snarks and avoids the nests

fucking love how he rambles when panicking

he had to deal with people shooting at him in ventilation shafts in high school

gasps multiple times when grenades are launched at him

walks right on by a battle when it doesn't affect him directly

shotgun chess! Kill them in the right order or else

doesn't really like chess because some guy can memorize board positions and guess what you'll do

DOES like memorizing chemical bonds

decides he wants the aliens to win these fights

"thank you, oh dark ones, i pay homage"

deeply panicked about the explosive-small pipe situation. Doesn't want to think that ambush is tbe only use of that pipe

just glad no puns were made

e50

likes that being stuck in this tube more than other places because it's not immediately deadly

ghost noises

he's a ghost with a shotgun!

I'm pretty sure he believes in ghosts and thinks he owes them murder now. He likes having ghosts on his side

"in the shining they let him out to kill his family but that doesn't really apply to me"

he's getting a bit silly with the ghost thing

wonders briefly if HE'S a ghost

random guard gets to join the Freeman Fan Club because the ghosts do not order his death

ITS ANOTHER LOBSTER

as always the bouncepads don't work well

jaunty "sir yes sir" to the military radio calling in

hes got time for exploding shit. He'll make time.

less communication is the best communication

very good at aiming the airstrikes

would love an airstrike map for the whole world

glad the military is going to leave him alone now

the HEV doesn't do shit against 50 tons of rock

[dexter-doll]

Incorrect quotes from a generator

Ft my ocs

—————————————————

Alen West: The joy of hanging out with Cerena. You look away for 5 seconds to make sure something is set up correctly, and they bite the tip of a marker off.

—

Cerena Demon: I wish I was a cat, but not in a furry kinda way, more like a “I can sleep all day and hit people with no consequences” kinda way.

—

Cerena Demon: The risk I took was calculated but, man, am I bad at math.

—

Cerena Demon: Wow, it sure smells like wrong dog in here!

Alen West: Oh buddy...

Cerena Demon, already sobbing: ASK.

—

Alen West: I'm having problems with a guy...

Cerena Demon: Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

—

Alen West: One time I went to hand Cerena a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.”

—

Cerena Demon: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

—

Alen West: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Shadow Cerena: Literally or figuratively?

Alen West: I have to specify?

—

Cerena Demon: That’s illegal, right?

Shadow Cerena: Why do you care? Are you a fucking cop?

Cerena Demon: No-

Shadow Cerena: Then shut the fuck up.

—

Alen West: Where are you going?

Shadow Cerena: Hell, eventually.

—

Shadow Cerena: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down.

—

*Cerena Demon is casually searching around the room*

Shadow Cerena: Hey Cerena, what’re you looking for?

Cerena Demon: My will to live.

*Alen West walks into the room*

Cerena Demon: Oh, there it is.

—

Alen West: You look mentally ill.

Cerena Demon: I am. Let’s go.

—

Shadow Cerena: :)

Cerena Demon: >:(

Shadow Cerena: Turn that frown upside down!

Cerena Demon: ):<

Shadow Cerena: Not sure what I was expecting...

—

Cerena Demon: You know, sometimes dandelions remind me of that shadow version of me.

Alen West: Aww, is it because they’re like a little sunshine, spreading light and hope everywhere?

Cerena Demon: What? Gross, no, it’s because they’re like a weed that you can’t get rid of!

—

Shadow Cerena: I baked you a pie!

Alen West: Really?! What flavor?

Shadow Cerena: *pulls gun out of the pie* DEATH!

—

Cerena Demon: So my therapist was talking to me and she said that I really just need to break down my walls and let people in.

Cerena Demon: So I’ve decided to break the fourth wall.

Cerena Demon: *looks at camera* Hi there. I use humor as a coping mechanism.

—

Alen West: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material.

Cerena Demon: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

—

Alen West: Though I admit I don’t know much about you, I am feeling pretty confident in my assessment that you are probably some sort of sick deadly fuck.

Shadow Cerena: Who told you my secret?

—

Cerena Demon: You disgust me.

Shadow Cerena: *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

—

Vic Demon: Do you want this handful of moss?

Cerena Demon: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss?

Vic Demon: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

—

Vic Demon, at Shadow Cerena’s funeral: I need a moment with them.

Everyone else at the funeral: Of course. *leaves*

Vic Demon, leaning over Shadow Cerena’s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re using my brothers body and also not dead.

Shadow Cerena, sitting up in the coffin: Yeah, no shit.

—

Shadow Cerena: Thanks for not telling Alen West what happened.

Cerena Demon, dumbfounded: I wouldn’t even know where to begin trying to explain this.

—

Vic Demon: When's the last time you slept?

Cerena Demon: Uh... a few days ago, I think.

Vic Demon: A few- how many?!

Cerena Demon: Uh... *starts counting on fingers* I need more fingers...

Vic Demon: What you need is sleep!

—

Shadow Cerena: Anything else?

Cerena Demon: Yeah. Stay away from me!

Shadow Cerena: Alright. See you in the room we share.

—

That’s it for now

@crossover-enthusiast

[rwprincess]

Head Over Feet (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.8k

Synopsis: What’s that sound? It’s another anachronistic Brian Johnson songfic! (Based on Alanis Morissette’s Head Over Feet) You’re one of Bender’s trash-punk friends and things change drastically when he brings the scrawny brain from detention with him to meet you all. Set up in snippets, your relationship develops with Brian, even if you weren’t really looking for a relationship.

CW: Teenage smoking (including reader), swearing, parental abuse (being being kicked out), sexism, angst and fluff

“This is Johnson,” Bender indicated the boy he brought along to your group’s spot under the bleachers.

“Brian, please.” The kid corrected. You eyed the gangly youth from top to bottom; in his sweater over a crisply-ironed collared shirt and khakis, he definitely didn’t fit in here with you all. You’d be called grungy punks at best. You didn’t think any of you even owned an iron and crisp definitely wasn’t your style. You blew out a puff of smoke, exhaling the nicotine from your lungs and shifted your gaze to Bender, wondering what he was at with this. He wasn’t the best guy, but pranking this preppy little nerd by bringing him down to your hangout? That seemed beneath him.

“You, uh, running some kinda charity here, Bender? We’re not exactly Make-A-Wish material, kid.” Scorch told the blonde dweeb and you snorted at the thought.

“Shut the fuck up,” was all Bender said in response. The rest of the twenty minutes of Brian Johnson standing there was of course, incredibly awkward and it was clear to everyone that he didn’t fit in. But that didn’t stop him from coming back a week later. And again a few days after that. And again and again until, well, that dork had grown on the lot of you. While he didn’t partake in cigarette smoking like most of you, he did take Bender up on his weed on several occasions and was actually really funny while high. He did weirdly spot-on impressions and had a sense of humor that none of your group had anticipated.

And, as much as you would vehemently deny it, you liked him when he was sober, too. He was incredibly smart and helpful and while his jokes were different without marijuana in his system, he could be amusing. That first awkward encounter was back in March, maybe April. But now you spent time with him without the convenience of school pulling you together. Now it was June and you sought to spend time with him, even without the group. Tonight, you were laying in a field not far from the high school, just the two of you. You liked to listen to him ramble on about the constellations and the myths about why they were named as they were. You remembered liking that as a kid, but you didn’t remember most of the stories. You knew you could ask him questions about the actual stars, too. Like, the science of it, and he would know. But you’d rather let him ramble and tackle one subject at a time. Even though he focused more on science and math, he was a pretty good storyteller, and right now that provided you with more of an escape than talking about the chemical composition of a star. When he finished his retelling of Ursa Minor’s story, however, he remained silent and didn’t start up a new piece of lore. After a moment, you looked at him to see what the hold up was, but you just caught his eye as his gaze was already fixed on you. Your heart started pounding in your chest because you knew what was coming.

“You know, we could go on an actual date some time.” Brian suggested, breaking the silence. You closed your eyes, almost wincing at the words. He was generally more subtle than this, but the same idea had been brought up before. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Brian. In general, you did, and in the honest depths of your soul, it was as more than a friend. But, every time it came down to this subject, you panicked. You had never been serious with anyone and the thought of dating was completely foreign to you. You had messed around with some guys before but you never had feelings for them. You didn’t know how to depend on another person, to have an actual relationship with them.

I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You sighed, your eyes still closed. You didn’t know what to tell him. Before, he always left it as more of a hint and it was easier to dodge. Now he was just coming out and saying it. Basically asking you out, so you would actually have to turn him down this time. The terrible thing was, you didn’t really want to. The conscious side of you wanted to agree and go out with him, on a proper date. But your subconscious kicked you into fight or flight mode and if you weren’t in the middle of a field, you might have picked flight and walked away. But that didn’t seem to be an option.

“Look, Johnson. It’s not that easy. Just...don’t waste your time on me.”

“I’m already wasting my time on you.” He pointed out, but when you took a peek at him, he didn’t seem upset about it. He was actually grinning about it. “We’re already wasting our time out here. Or at the library, or under the bleachers… So why not like, a movie theater or dinner, or my house?”

“Oh yeah, your mom would love having me around.” You joked, humorlessly. The smattering of times you had met Brian’s mother hadn’t gone swimmingly. You could read the derision in her voice and knew she did not approve of her good little baby hanging out with a ne’er-do-well like you.

“She’d come around. You’re different once someone actually gets to know you.” He meant it as a compliment, but you took it as your out.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You leapt up, indignantly and he just gaped at you like a fish out of water.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I swear!” He put his hands up defensively as you looked down at him. “Forget it, I’m sorry.” You had victory, he dropped the subject and your friendship could last another night and you could try to pretend like he wasn’t right, that you two weren’t meant to be something more.

*~~~~*

You treat me like I'm a princess

I'm not used to liking that

You ask how my day was

For the most part, working at Bert’s auto shop felt worthwhile and valuable. Other days, it chewed you up and spit you out. It was hard being in such a masculine environment and not fitting into that type. Customers (mostly men, but even the women too) thought that you were less knowledgeable and handy than your cohorts. Bender’s teasing didn’t help that image, either.

Now you slid into the booth at Gino’s pizzeria utterly deflated and defeated. Of course, Brian took notice right away. “Rough day?” He inquired, pushing a menu towards you even though he knew you ordered the same thing every time.

“That’s not even the half of it. Why does Bender hafta be such a dick all the time?!” You asked, incredulously but sincerely, diving right into your problem.

“I don’t know. I think he thinks it’s part of his charm? Maybe it is. I mean, we’re still friends with him.” You nodded at his point, but clenched your fists just the same.

“I just wish he knew when to back off sometimes. Like, he never realizes he’s taking it too far and digging you further into a shithole.”

“What did he do this time?” Brian’s gaze on you was unbroken; it made you feel important, like your opinion, your story, was the only thing that mattered.

“So we got this old guy in the shop today. Beautiful car, so of course he was hesitant with me touching it.” You began and his eyebrows furrowed, already not liking the direction this was going. “And I’m trying to prove myself worthy to work on this car, even though I would just be doing an oil change, which isn’t like a big deal anyway, right? Simple stuff.” You looked to him to get acknowledgement to move forward.

“I mean, I guess. I don’t really know about oil changes or anything about cars. But I know you do.”

“Right, so Bender has to go and make a crack to the old guy about how they won’t let me near it and I’m just the secretary for the shop or whatever. Just a total dick move. But of course the guy believed him and laughed with him and sent me to go get him a cup of coffee? I mean, what the hell is that?”

“That’s not right. And you wear a mechanic’s uniform at work, why would he think--?”

“Because macho man Bender told him I was! He was more believable than me.” You sank back and put a hand up to brace your forehead as the waitress approached the table. You prepared to order your drink when she set down exactly what you would have ordered in front of you and walked away, promising to come back in a few minutes. You blinked at the cup as if it magically had appeared.

“I uh, figured you’d get the usual and you’d need it when you got here, so I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.” Brian said and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the idea. Since he wasn’t looking at you anyway, you allowed your lips to twitch up into a smile threatening to break out on your face...but only for a moment.

“Yeah, whatever. So anyway, Bender…” you carried on, pretending nothing happened, but secretly cataloguing his gesture in your memory.

*~~~~*

The only thing worse than arguing with Brian or him pissing you off was him making you laugh. There were times that you would go home with sore sides and itchy eyes from the tears that formed while laughing so hard. Then you would always, always reflect on the hours you just spent together, feeling the warmth and butterflies tickle your insides and a nervous heat would prickle your skin as you thought about how happy Brian made you. He never pushed you to do anything; he liked you the way you were. Sure, he would drop hints here and there about how you should stop smoking or give you advice when you had a particularly bad argument with one of your friends, but overall, he just accepted you. And you knew how hard that was to find.

You had never been popular and when junior high rolled around, you accepted that you never would be. You found your own little group of outcasts who understood what it was like to be kicked down time and again, and now he had somehow joined that group too. You knew he understood how it felt. Even though he looked different and came from a very different social circle, he had been looked down upon by his peers all his life. You were guilty of judging him the same way when you first met him, but now you couldn’t imagine life without him. He was cut of the same cloth and you could see yourself in him, which is why you just clicked. And he was so kind and so patient with you. You tried to push him away dozens of times, to put up the barriers and the walls that worked so well for everyone that came before him; you couldn’t be hurt if you never got attached. Where most people gave up and only saw the cold, distant bitch you gave them, Brian always saw something more. He didn’t give up in breaking down those walls, and even accepted just being your friend. That made you love him even more.

Shit, wait. Did you just think about loving Brian? A crush is one thing. Having a buddy to fool around with is one thing. Being in love was quite another.

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

*~~~~*

Mercedes Johnson was all about keeping up appearances, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear her arguing with Brian on the other side of the door, about you. Again. You had known from the second you met her that she didn’t like you. She was instantly worried about the influence you’d have on her son; it was a common reaction from parents based on the way you looked and the company you kept. You would think you’d be used to it by now.

However, it truthfully bothered you more because this was Brian’s mother. You were hoping that she would be different and see the person underneath like her son had, or at the very least, that she would eventually warm up to you. You had no luck with either.

“I’m not comfortable with having her over at the house right now.” You could hear her tell Brian.

“She’s my friend, ma. Of course she’s going to come over--”

“I’m aware of that but you know I wish she weren’t. I would prefer that you keep the company of other friends.” The formality of her sentences while she was still cruelly putting you both down made you cringe.

“You don’t know her because you won’t give her a chance. She’s not that different from my other friends.”

“You have friends in the Physics Club, from Knowledge Bowl, Honor Students. You don’t need the association with a hoodlum like that or John Bender and I don’t know why you keep insisting on bringing them into my home when I have repeatedly told you no. I don’t want them around your sister, or even you!”

“Fine. Then we’ll leave.” You heard the door swing open harshly and Brian was motioning for you to follow him out of the house.

“Brian Ralph Johnson!” You heard his mother cry after the two of you. Brian held open the front door for you and you looked at him cautiously before rushing out. You knew you weren’t wanted there, but you were worried that he wouldn’t come with you. You were even more worried that he would. “You are not leaving this house.” Mercedes put on the most intimidating tone you had witnessed her use.

“No, I am. We are. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t bother coming back tonight if you walk out of this house!” She was now pink-faced and losing all of the reserved, polished look you had seen her have. She had never been so...uncomposed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Brian said and grabbed you by the elbow as he escorted you down the driveway to your car. He immediately got into the passenger seat and as you sunk behind the steering wheel, you glanced at him.

“Brian, this is stupid. You don’t have to---you shouldn’t do this.” The whole situation reminded you of the many times you had been kicked out of your house. This was just another home you weren’t welcome in.

He clenched his jaw in response. “Let’s just go. I’ll figure it out later. Please, just drive.”

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You're so much braver than I gave you credit for

That's not lip service

“Your mom gave you a choice, you know. It’s not like she told you to get out. She actually told you not to leave.” You said as you both sat on the trunk of your car, looking out across the field that was slowly turning to a golden hue, both from the afternoon sun and the change into autumn. Neither of your houses were really an option to go to, so you just chose the empty field that you would look at stars in during the summer.

“It’s not like it was really a choice though, was it? I’m tired of her trying to control every part of my life. I need to start thinking for myself, doing things for myself. She needs to understand that I’m going to do what I want, and like who I want to like.” He looked at you meaningfully for a moment, but you looked away quickly. It was too heavy for you to process right now.

“That’s a big step. I’m really impressed with you for standing up for yourself.” You told him, and he gave you an appreciative, heart-stopping smile in return that caused your cheeks to flush. Your parents had shouted at you to leave so many times before, any time you were ‘inconvenient’ for them, that it was hard to relate to someone who chose not to stay. But you wanted to support him and you did feel proud of him today. You thought back to the most recent event in which you had been dismissed from your family, and how you had tried to take it out on Brian:

You slammed your locker and watched him almost jump out of his skin. “I don’t want to talk about this.” You growled at Brian.

“I understand that, but you need to. You can’t just--”

“Just what?”

“You can’t just act like nothing happened or run away from it...run away from here.” You had been disciplined at school yet again and your parents had had enough. You had a big fight with them the night prior and did not sleep in your own bed. The tiredness racked your body today and you were stiff from sleeping in your car. If it weren’t for the social aspect, you wouldn’t have bothered coming to school. But you quickly realized you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone, and you were only making the situation worse.

“Like hell I can’t.” You stated, quickly turning to walk away.

“Y/N, don’t. Come on, talk to me. Tell me what happened. We can figure it out together.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, bucko. I’ll be fine. I’ll do this on my own. I’m used to that anyway.”

“But you don’t have to be alone, Y/N. That’s what I’m saying! That’s my whole point: I’m here for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to be, Brian.”

“No, because friends don’t have to ask.” His words scared you. Nobody had so adamantly offered to be a safety net to you before.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “we’re great friends. We’ve bonded so much in the, what, four months you’ve known me?” You rolled your eyes, trying to make him feel uncomfortable, to drive a wedge between you. You only knew how to put up walls, how to run.

“You know we are.”

“Yeah, sure, right. Friends. Not like you want to sleep with me or anything.” You tried to drive another knife into him, to play it off like he was following you only because he had a crush on you, one you tried to pretend wasn’t reciprocated. “It’s not going to happen, Brian. So just accept that we’re not friends.”

He let you get about three steps away before you heard him say, “No. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. Sure, part of me wants something more, but...I care about you, Y/N. And if we can just be friends, I am happy with that, I swear. But don’t do this to me. Don’t try to shut me out or walk away or act like you’re fine. I know you well enough to know you’re not.” When you turned around, you could see that he had tears rimming his eyes, threatening to fall, which made your own tears spring up as well. “I am your friend. I’m not going to just let you go and do something stupid. You are going to talk about this. If not to me, then someone else. But you can’t just run away or sleep in your car or, or…”

“Okay.” You said, softly.

“Okay?”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. I screwed up again and my parents kicked me out. So what do I do?”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I...we’ll think of something.” He began to tell you, but you bit your lip and drowned him out in your own sobs. Everything crashed in on you at once; you hadn’t escaped in time. You slid down your locker wall and sat on the floor. Brian joined you and put his arm around you tentatively.

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

After that day, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You tried your best to brush him off, to hurt him, to land irreparable blows. But it was all in vain; he stuck by you. You admired how he stood up for you, for your relationship, whatever that meant. He didn’t back down, even though you knew he genuinely cared what you thought. He was willing to put everything on the line just to be with you, in whatever capacity you would allot him. And today, he had chosen you again. He had picked a fight with his mother and chosen you. He placed you above being safe and comfortable and at home right now.

“I’m sorry, this must seem so stupid to be complaining about. I know I don’t have it that bad, it’s just that--”

“No, your problems are valid, too. Your mom sucks.” You told him and he laughed, “But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t...weird to have someone be given the choice to stay instead of being yelled at to get out and that you’re worthless and---I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make this about me.” You said softly, looking down at your hands.

“No, I get it. It’s gotta be on your mind a lot, the uncertainty. Plus, I don’t mind talking about you.” He nudged your shoulder with his own, trying to be playful but you knew he meant that. He always put you first. You couldn’t help your next impulse as your hand shot up to cup his face and you leaned in and kissed him roughly. You weren’t entirely sure why you had done it. It would probably change everything and you couldn’t tell if you were doing it selfishly to feel like someone cared or to keep him around or because you truly wanted to. Of course, he kissed you back, and the feeling it gave you pushed a lot of those doubts from your mind.

You're the best listener that I've ever met

You're my best friend

Best friend with benefits

What took me so long?

*~~~~*

The kiss in the field still didn’t mean you were “together.” Realistically, it complicated things for a while. You avoided Brian for a couple of days and didn’t discuss it when you finally caved in to your desire to see him. He didn’t bring it up either, even though there were many times he would look at your lips like he wanted to make a move again, but you never talked about it. Things began to look “normal” after about two weeks. You spent time at the record shop, or under the bleachers with your friends or in the library with his friends. He nagged you about giving up smoking and you finally listened, much to his surprise.

“What made you finally decide to quit?” He asked, looking at the nicotine patch on your arm. You shrugged, not wanting to tell him the truth.

“I guess I just finally got tired of you being a broken record, mother hen.” You teased him, but he just smiled because he was happy with your choice. The truth of the matter was, you had done it for him. While you weren’t with him, you wanted to be. You didn’t want to keep doing something that bothered him so much, but you also knew that eventually, your habit of smoking would cost time with him and you didn’t want that. You lied to yourself that you didn’t want a relationship and weren’t thinking about a future with Brian, but you were. Every time he helped you study or encouraged you to do your best, the time your parents were out of town so he had made you his “specialty” of spaghetti in your kitchen, when you drove him around singing songs together on the radio...you thought about doing those things with him forever and instead of the fear you used to feel at such a thought, you felt happiness. You anticipated a future with him, something to look forward to.

I've never felt this healthy before

I've never wanted something rational

I am aware now

I am aware now

*~~~~*

“It’s kind of weird, yeah. But they’re cute together, I guess.” You had just returned from a movie with Bender and Claire. You were surprised at how long their relationship had lasted, especially since you had hated Claire at first. You assumed she was dating Bender as a statement, but it had been over six months and they were still together and it just seemed to work.

“It must be nice to have someone like that. Even if they don’t make sense, they care about each other. It just must be a nice thing to have a relationship like that.” Brian looked at you for a moment before backpedaling, realizing he must have made it sound like he was guilt-tripping you. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you out again. I really just was complimenting them--”

“Well, maybe you should.” You cut him off.

You realized how rare a find like Brian truly was. He always put you before himself; he listened to all of your problems and knew when to offer solutions and when to just listen. He was endlessly supportive, and kind. He kept taking giant risks just to be with you, to show you that you mattered to him. You knew, without him saying it, that he loved you. Why else would someone go to the lengths he did, just to make you happy? You had tried everything to shake him, to get rid of him so neither one of you would be in too deep to get hurt. But he stayed, and now, you wouldn’t want him to go anyway. It was too late; you were both already in too deep.

He just blinked at you, sure he had heard incorrectly. “Wh-what?”

“I said, maybe you should. Ask me out again.”

“Y/N, do you want to go out with me?” He asked, unsure. It felt like a setup, but he knew you wouldn’t do something so cruel to him.

“Yes.” You replied, softly.

“Why?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess you won me over.” You chuckled, but he failed to see the humor in it, so you changed to a more serious tone. “Brian, I thought that these feelings would go away, that you would go away. Lord knows how hard I’ve tried to push you. But...you didn’t and the feelings didn’t. I-I love you. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to keep loving you, I don’t want to waste my time with anyone else. And...And I think that you love me.”

“I do.” He breathed quietly, with zero hesitation.

“So, why fight it any more? I was afraid that I would hurt you, but I think I’ve already done that and you’ve stuck around.” He nodded in confirmation of that fact. “And I was scared that I would get hurt but...but I’ve realized that you won’t do that to me, either.”

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

He took your hands in his, “You’re serious? You really want this? Because, you know how I feel. How I’ve always felt.” You nodded in response, tears quickly filling your eyes, which was a rarity for you. He leaned in towards you to kiss you, for the first time since your conversation in the field over a month ago. He waited for you to be ready in every aspect of your relationship and you had never known so much love and respect before. It took some adjusting to, but he had pulled you in and made you fall for him again and again.

Just gonna tag my buddy...

@90sinequity

[luminnara]

Flying On Wings Made From Feathers And Wax | Ganondorf x Gerudo!oc chapter 2

Part one | Part two | Part three

Growing up in the Gerudo Desert is hard. 

The sun is merciless, especially to the small. For someone like Ilula, it is draining, seemingly determined to exhaust her as it beats down on her during the day. It will never stop doing so, but at a young age, she learned how to deal with it. 

The others called her lazy, but she considered herself clever. Just like the lizards that liked to snooze while they sunned themselves, she took naps during the day. It wasn’t that the other Gerudo didn’t—naps were almost a necessity in such a hot environment, and it was common to see be back in an hour signs hanging on merchant stalls—but Ilula simply napped more than the rest of them. 

It concerned her mother greatly. 

Kiluki took her daughter to the best healer in town, the one who looked after the chief and royal family, hoping to find answers about Ilula’s small stature. Just like the Hylian healers, though, this one declared that Ilula was, for the most part, fine, she was just...small. Small, and a bit weak. For Kiluki, a tall, strong vai, who had once been a member of the Chief’s guard, Ilula’s relatively tiny stature and shortcomings were cause for major concern; she knew that many Gerudo never joined the guard, and to keep Gerudo Town running, they needed all sorts. But she wanted Ilula to follow in her footsteps, to become stronger and braver than even she, and Kiluki feared that it was a dream that could never be.

Ilula knew that her mother worked, but what could she possibly do about it? It wasn’t anything that she could control. She spent her days playing or helping Uvira sell her produce while her mother advised the Chief, trying to forget the way that she couldn’t reach things the other girls could. As she grew older, it became obvious that she would never hit a growth spurt, and while Ganondorf shot up like a weed, Ilula stayed at least a head shorter than the others her age. 

“C’mon, pipsqueak!” Ganondorf scooped her up one day, interrupting her midday nap.

“Gan!” She yelped in surprise as he threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” the prince grinned as he ran towards the palace. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got something to show you.”

Even at twelve years old, Ganondorf could carry her easily. He spent his days studying and training, his mother keeping a watchful eye over him and ensuring that her son would become strong and capable. While Ilula had already finished most of her schooling, knowing how to read and write and do simple math, the prince had many years of studies still ahead of him, his chambers lined with shelves full of thick books. Being royalty meant that he needed to know everything about the world, and he enjoyed reading about Hyrule and its politics and history. Ilula didn’t share quite as much appreciation for the Hylian kingdom neighboring the desert, but whenever he was reading, she had a chance to take a nice nap in his incredibly soft bed, and that was something she could absolutely appreciate. 

“It better not be stupid,” she grumbled with a yawn. “Interrupting me on my day off…”

“Day off from what?” He snorted. “You can’t even start real training until you’re twelve. That’s a whole month away.”

“So?” She argued.

“So you can’t possibly be too busy for me,” he rolled his eyes. “Sav’aaq!” He called to the guards at the top of the steps as he passed them. 

“Sav’aaq, my prince!” They snapped to attention, bowing their heads. “Ilula, sav’aaq.”

“Sav’aaq,” Ilula mumbled. She was used to the guards keeping watch over her and the prince, and they had all developed a certain fondness for Ganondorf’s runt of a friend. 

Ganondorf carried her through the throne room, past the chief and her advisors as they pored over a map of Hyrule. They bowed to him as he walked by and he grunted in acknowledgement, too focused on his task to stop and ask what they were doing. 

They allowed him to rush by without interruption. He only had a few years of childhood left before the burdens of leadership would fall on his shoulders, and his mother wished that he enjoyed his time as much as he could. He was growing into a fine young voe, the Sheikah prophecy a distant memory now, and As any voe, he should be enjoying the years of his youth as much as possible.

When he reached his chambers, he threw Ilula down onto his bed. She laughed as she bounced, sitting up to look at him as he grabbed a wooden box from his desk.

“Here,” he said, slightly out of breath as he pushed it into her hands. 

She took it, hearing something rattle inside. “What is it?”

“Just open it!”

With an inquisitive glance up at him, she slid the lid off the box. Inside, something was glimmering, reflecting the light of the desert sun that streamed in through the windows. As Ilula reached inside, she picked up a set of earrings, a teardrop-shaped sapphire hanging from each hook. 

“Oh, Gan,” she breathed, holding the jewelry in her palm as she stared down at it, “these are beautiful…”

He was watching her anxiously. “Do you like them?”

“I do!” She looked up at him with a wide smile. 

The prince let out the breath he had been holding, relieved. “Oh, good.”

“Did you have these made?” Ilula asked, peering closely at the stones. 

“I did,” he smiled. “Just for you. Well, actually, they were going to be a birthday present, but Amira finished them early. I couldn’t hold my tongue for an entire month.”

“This is the best early birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” she beamed up at him. “Thank you, Gan.”

“Oh, they’re not a birthday gift anymore,” he laughed. “I figured out something else for your birthday. These are just normal gifts now.”

Ilula raised an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t be spending so much time spoiling me, you know…”

“Or what?” He laughed. “You’re my best friend, Lula. You deserve gifts.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m not going to accept them,” she grinned at him as she stood and walked to the mirror on the wall. 

“I put a spell on them.” he blurted out. “To help you stay cool in the sun. Sapphires are good for that.”

She glanced back at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I had the jeweler make them and then I enchanted them. I’m supposed to be practicing, and I wanted to try it out…”

“I can’t believe you know magic,” Ilula said as she faced her reflection. “I wish I could put spells on things.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” he shrugged. 

“Shut up,” she laughed. “It’s a super big deal!”

He watched with a serene smile on his face as she took out the big gold hoops she was wearing and replaced them with her new earrings. Just as he had hoped, the bright blue sapphires contrasted perfectly with her fiery red hair…though the thick green band she used to keep it up off of her shoulders didn’t match at all. He made a mental note to add a new, nicer one to the small pile of birthday gifts he would be giving her in a few weeks. 

Ilula admired the way the sapphires hung from her pointed ears. She had to admit…Ganondorf had an eye for jewelry. Maybe it was because he had so much of it himself; as she looked at his reflection behind her, she could count no less than ten incredibly expensive precious stones on his head and arms alone. The perks of being a prince, she supposed.

When he noticed her watching her, he suddenly shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing away for a moment before looking down at his hands. 

“I’m, uh…glad you like them.” He mumbled. 

“Gan, don’t be sheepish,” Ilula laughed, turning to face him.

He looked up at her, hoping that she couldn’t see the blush on his face. She was the only person who ever made his skin heat up like that, the only Gerudo he ever wanted to be around, the only vai whose hand he wanted to hold. It confused him, the way he felt about his best friend, but he was headstrong and determined not to shy away from whatever he was beginning to feel. 

“I’ve never seen a sheep,” he chuckled. “What does sheepish mean?”

Ilula’s laughter grew louder as she plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked up at him. “They’re soft. Hylians cut their hair and make things with it. They look like fluffy little clouds with legs.”

Ganondorf grinned. “I can’t wait until I’m king and I can see all of Hyrule. I want to go to the castle, see the Hylians.”

“It’s a long walk,” Ilula said. “…well, Mama carried me most of the way, I think. I don’t really remember much of it. I know it rained a lot before we got to the outskirts, though.”

Ganondorf suddenly sighed and turned to the window. He walked towards it, placing his hands on the cool sandstone and leaning on them as he looked out over Gerudo Town and the wide, flat desert outside the gates. 

“What is it like there?” He asked, gazing towards the distant mountains that marked the Gerudo Highlands and the edge of Hyrule. 

Ilula frowned at his change in demeanor and stood to join him. “It’s…green. Everything is green, and you can smell all the plants. And there’s so much water, everywhere…when it rains, it isn’t like here. It just rains for a few hours, and then the sky clears up again, and the birds come back out.”

“It sounds…nice.” He admitted.

“It is,” she agreed. “You can just lean down and drink out of a stream if you’re thirsty. And if you’re hungry, there are apple trees all over! And fish in the rivers, and boar in the woods…”

“I like boar,” Ganondorf laughed.

“Yeah, they taste pretty good, I guess. When you add enough spices.” Ilula shrugged.

“No, not to eat!” He looked at her like she was crazy. “I like the way they look. Those big tusks…there are drawings of them in some of my books. I’ve always liked them.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re pretty cool.” Ilula giggled. “There are lots of other animals, too.”

“Life there must be easy.” He commented. “The Hylians have it all.”

“What do you mean?” Ilula frowned. “I thought you liked the desert.”

“I do, I just…wish we had things like grass and trees and forests. I wish we lived more comfortably.”

“You live very comfortably.” Ilula snorted. 

“What do you mean?” He looked down at her, nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Uh, all of this?” She gestures to the room around them. “The palace? You’re royalty. You hardly have to worry.”

“I have to think about our people!” He argued. “What’s Castle Town like?”

“Busy and big.” Ilula shrugged. “The streets are all made of stone, and there’s a big market where people from all over sell things. Mama didn’t let me go there very much, because of the way the Hylians are sometimes.”

Ganondorf looked down at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“They don’t really…trust Gerudo that much.” She folded her arms, hugging herself lightly. “They don’t treat the Rito or the Zora like Hylians, either, but they like them more than they like us.”

As Ganondorf listened, he considered her words. “I’m going to change that.”

“You’re going to change how they think?” She asked skeptically.

“I’m going to show them that they should respect us.” He said. 

“How?”

“Maybe I’ll…send them aid, if they have a natural disaster.” He thought out loud. “Or take a big delegation to visit the castle, or invite them here.”

“The king can’t enter Gerudo Town,” Ilula laughed. “You’re the only voe allowed. Remember, you spoiled prince?”

“Oh. Right.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m going to be in charge someday. I’ll have to figure out this whole diplomacy thing.”

Ilula smiled softly as she looked up at him. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”

He grinned down at her. “Only if you help me.”

She returned the grin. “Deal.”

“I don’t think I could handle the throne without you,” he bumped her with his shoulder, nearly throwing her into the wall. “I still have so much I have to learn.”

Ilula stumbled, but she didn’t fall like the last few times he had forgotten how big he was. “That’s why kings always have advisors. Nobody can run everything by themselves.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighed, his attention returning to the world outside his window. “I’ve got six whole years to figure it out, though.”

“Yeah, and it’ll be fine.” She tried to bump her shoulder into his arm with the same force that he had, but he didn’t budge. “Hey, seriously, are you made of rock?”

He barked a laugh. “No, I’m just bigger than you!”

“Well stop it!” She snapped, only half serious. “If you keep this up, you’re not even going to be able to see me!”

“Maybe you should just start catching up!” He retorted.

“I would if I could.” She rolled her eyes. “My mom keeps making me go to the healers to figure out why I’m so short. I keep trying to tell her that it’s not that big a deal, but she won’t listen.” 

As she spoke, her tone grew more serious, until it had Ganondorf frowning. “You’re fine.”

“That’s what I keep saying, but it doesn’t matter.” Ilula sighed. “She’s always worrying that I’m going to get hurt because I’m fragile. I always tell her that I’m not, and I know I’m not because you’re always throwing me down off the walls or into the aqueducts or whatever, but she just always gets mad and tells me to be more careful.”

“Do I ever hurt you?” Ganondorf asked, his eyes wide in alarm. 

“No, you don’t,” Ilula shook her head. “I’m serious, I’m not that fragile, but all she ever sees is me lagging behind everyone else. That’s why I want to start training with the guards, so I can show her that I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know, if you start training, you’ll be busy all the time…”

“Gan, they train literally right outside your window.” She rolled her eyes. “You won’t miss me. I’ll be right there.” 

“…oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“But I bet my mom is going to be all worried about me training, too.” She sighed. “Until i show her that I’m not some fragile little flower. You know, back in Castle Town, I was always the biggest kid. She didn’t worry as much back then.”

“Do you ever miss it there?” Ganondorf asked, studying her face. 

“Sometimes. I miss everything I could get at the market, and I do miss my father. But…I didn’t fit in there. I guess I don’t really fit in here, either.”

“Yes you do.” He nudged her with his elbow, gentler this time. “You’re Gerudo. You belong here, with your people. With me.”

Ilula smiled up at him. “I know, Gan. I think it’s less about the place, and more about who’s there. You know?”

He looked down at her, his heart fluttering in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah. I know.”

000

On Ilula’s twelfth birthday, she woke to the smell of meat cooking over the fire. As soon as her eyes were open, she remembered what day it was, and she shot out of bed to investigate the main room of the home she and her mother shared.

“Sav’otta, my little desert flower,” Auntie Uvira greeted her as she prepared breakfast over the small wok in the middle of the room. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” Ilula shrugged. “Where’s Mom?”

“Right here,” Kiluki appeared in the doorway, a parcel in her hands. 

Ilula eyed it. “Sav’otta, Mama.”

“Sav’otta, Ilula,” Kiluki smiled, holding the parcel out towards her. “Happy birthday.”

Ilula lunged for it excitedly, tearing the wrappings open while Uvira yelled at her to be mindful of the fire. 

As the brown paper fell away, airy pink fabric was revealed, and Ilula pulled out a bandeau top. Matching pants were next, made of a thin, breathable weave, and as she rushed back to her room to try the new outfit on, Kiluki smiled. 

“How do I look?” Ilula asked breathlessly when she returned, holding her arms out as she spun around to show it off.

“Oh, it’s stunning!” Uvira clapped.

“I think it suits you perfectly,” Kiluki nodded. “How is the fit?”

“I think it’s good. What’s for breakfast?” Ilula was buzzing with energy, bouncing over to look at what Uvira was cooking. 

“This is for later,” her aunt laughed as she sprinkled in some Goron spices. 

“We will be eating breakfast at the palace,” Kiluki informed her daughter. “That’s why I wanted to give you that gift first thing in the morning. You should look your best.”

Ilula grinned. Eating at the palace meant getting to see Ganondorf, and as she rushed to get ready, she wondered what sort of gifts he had in store for her. 

She found out soon after she walked through the impressive archway and approached the throne. The chief sat with her hands on its armrests, her back straight as she looked down at Ilula and Kiluki.

“The prince and queen mother are awaiting your arrival, Ilula,” she said, her voice firm and strong. “I would not keep them waiting. Kiluki, if I could have a quick word.”

Ilula glanced up at her mother in confusion, but when Kiluki waved her off, she was eager to run towards the dining hall. It was her birthday, after all, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about anything. Whatever the chief wanted wasn’t of her concern, and when she saw Ganondorf waiting for her with a pile of gifts, any and all thoughts about what her mother could possibly be needed for flew out the window.

“Happy birthday, Ilula,” Ganondorf’s mother, Mira, said, a smile on her face as she watched her son shove a box into Ilula’s arms.

The Gerudo royal family spared no expense. Ganondorf had given her a sapphire necklace, one that matched the earrings, and a ruby wrist cuff that he said would keep her warm at night when the desert winds pierced Gerudo Town. His eyes lit up at the sight of her happiness, and though he had certainly given her birthday gifts before, he was especially glad to see that all of his hard work and pondering over what to get had all paid off this year. He gave her a new sirwal, the light, baggy pair of pants a bright white with golden accents threaded throughout. Then came an assortment of her favorite candied fruits, a beautiful sand sealskin journal, and the biggest breakfast feast she had ever seen.

By the time the unwrapping was finished, the table was covered in a plethora of delicacies. Everything from platters of sliced hydromelons, to gourmet meats hunted in the highlands, to rare seafood brought all the way from the coast, was piled up and presented to Ilula. It was a lavish celebration, the kind usually reserved for holidays or royal birthdays, and with Kiluki returning from the throne room to partake, the festivities were finally truly underway. 

The adults drank as the children laughed and played. They were nearly too old to be doing so, both nearing the age at which they would begin training for adulthood, and one last romp before it all started seemed to be in order. The day was full of merriment and their spirits were high, and as the two tore out of the palace to get themselves into trouble elsewhere, Mira turned to Kiluki with a sigh. 

“He will be devastated,” she said.

“As will she.” Kiluki raised her cup to her lips and drank. 

“How long do you have?”

“I do not know.” Kiluki lifted her eyes. “Ryla did not say…all I know is that we are to return to Castle Town when she deems fit.”

“Why is she sending both of you?” Mira asked. “I hardly see the sense in taking Ilula away from her training.”

“I believe she wants us to keep up appearances.” Kiluki sighed. “Perhaps by the two of us seeming to return home, the Hylians will be less on edge.”

“Still…” Mira sighed again. “I am sure we will all be focused on our tasks, but your absence will be hard.”

“I only wish I knew when we would be leaving.” Kiluki frowned. “Ryla told me that it could be tomorrow, or in five years.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll be allowed to visit home…”

“I doubt it.”

“Not even if Ganondorf requests it?”

Kiluki pursed her lips. “Perhaps after he takes the throne, he will summon us back to Gerudo Town. I should hope he will see the value in placing me amongst the Hylians, though, and so close to the royal family…”

“Like a spitting sand cobra, nestled right within their own walls,” Mira chuckled. “You must do your job well, for Ryla to send you back again.”

“Yes, I suppose I must. Though it was easier back then.”

“Will you return to that voe?”

Kiluki wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps, if he is willing to see reason.”

“What did you even fight about?”

“Everything.” She shrugged. “Hylian voe have a single use. The rest of the time, they are wholly disagreeable.”

Mira threw her head back and laughed, the hearty sound echoing off the sandstone walls. “That they are! That they most certainly are.”

[morwensteelsheen]

If Faramir went to Rivendell, how would the whole ttt/rohan plot be different?

A good question that I have spent an unreasonable time thinking about! My first LOTR fic was going to be an attempt to answer this, but then I got so wrapped up in not having the answers that I sidelined it and wrote WC instead. So I think instead of giving you one definitive answer I’ll give you a couple scenarios I think are plausible? If that’s not too much of a cop out lmao? Apologies in advance for the inevitable spelling errors, I did this on my phone and my dyslexia is off the charts today.

I think it’s basically unavoidable that he goes via Rohan first, geographically he’s sort of left without an option there. When he’s there, we get into this issue of whether and how he and Éowyn interact. Worth noting, I think, that the Unfinished Tales has Éomer living in Aldburg by the War, but Éomer does seem to imply he’s around for Boromir passing through. Is this because he knows and already is a fan of Boromir? Maybe! Or maybe Éomer goes to Aldburg after.

But I digress. We have to ask the question of whether Faramir falls in love with Éowyn because he was always going to fall in love with Éowyn, or if it’s because the things he’s gone through immediately preceding it primed him for it. I — perhaps quite cheaply — come down on the side of Faramir always having it bad for her on first sight. And contextually I think that comes from his, rather sweet, enunciation of the way his regard/love changes for her. He says that at first he pities her, and then he gets to know her and he doesn’t pity her anymore, he respects and admires her. That’s an interesting dynamic to bring into play in basically every AU, because you get this double barrel characterisation of his attitude to her changing, and his own character maturing/sharp edges softening.

I think he off the bat he sees that she’s beautiful, and immediately is drawn to her for that. Shallow? Maybe! But, to badly paraphrase my ol fav Victor Hugo quote — love always begins with a glance.

I imagine he stays for a short while, maybe a week, two at most. At this point I think that Éowyn’s basically viewing him as an official guest that she has to entertain, and I think Faramir is, in his own, slightly stilted, slightly wanky way, putting the moves on her. This can go, imo, one of two ways. She can either be receptive to it (which is a nice thought!) or she can be aware of it but mostly ignore it because, really, she’s got lots of shit on her plate.

Either way, he leaves Edoras at some point. The big question is where does his go from there?

One thing I toy around with is that, given his pre-existing relationship to Gandalf, maybe he’s willing to trust the Istari a bit more and goes straight for Isengard? Which, and I think I did the math on this once a few months ago, would have him arriving at Isengard around the time Gandalf’s getting his shit kicked in by Saruman lol. I think this could be a really compelling plot point, but I’ll be very honest with you, I 100% don’t have the imagination or writing skills to figure out how it proceeds from there, so I’m not going to try to.

If he goes the normal Boromir route, he still loses his horse at Tharbad and walks (lmao jesus???) to Rivendell. When he gets there, I think he’s immediately going to have everything he knows put to the test in quite jarring ways. First off, he’s going to be infinitely more deferential to Elrond, Aragorn &c when they’re trashing Gondor. He’ll push back a bit, no doubt on that, but he’s going to be starstruck by Aragorn in a way that Boromir just wasn’t.

No real difference I imagine between Rivendell and Lothlórien, except that he’d definitely be laser focused on palling about with Aragorn, and he’d probably spend more of his time being friendly with Frodo than with Merry and Pippin tbh (not in a douchey way, I just think he and Frodo vibe a little better. Though I bet he and Merry had some interesting chats about pipe weed history).

The underlying question here is what sort of relationship does he have to the ring? I don’t buy this idea that he’s not tempted by it, I just think that what the ring offers him is a bit shit. We don’t know what the ring tempts him with, he’s not clear on that in TTT. I can’t really see the ring being like ‘oh I’ll give you a king to follow’ because that is some intensely nerdy shit, but is somehow the one thing I could see Faramir actually being tempted by. Regardless of what it offers him in this AU, he resists it on the basis that he’s got this mythical king he’s been desperate for, and he’s not gonna risk that for anything.

Lothlórien comes next, and oh my god when I tell you this is the part I genuinely have no answer for. I stopped writing my first fic at Lothlórien because I couldn’t cope. Tbh it probably lowkey fries Faramir’s brain, and for so many reasons. The whole godmoding Númenórean stuff he’s got going on probably interests Galadriel a bit, and so that whole conversation is going to be wildly different than it was for Boromir. But what does she say to Faramir? I have no idea. I really don’t. There’s also probably a million and one things also going on psychologically for him at that point, which makes dealing with this bit difficult. Really difficult. So I’m gonna, uh, conveniently smash cut away.

Parth Galen! Again, another two potential splits here. The first, (from here on out I’ll refer to as Plot A) which I find rather endearing, is that he goes off with Frodo and Sam when Frodo makes the decision to split. I don’t know that I believe he’d do it, but it proves for a very delightful interpretation of his character.

Plot B is that when the Orcs show up, Faramir survives not by virtue of his being a ~ better warrior ~ or whatever than Boromir, but by the terrain surrounding Parth Galen being something he’s far more in the habit of dealing with, and by virtue of his having a bow at his disposal. I know there’s room for an interpretation of Faramir as not primarily an archer, but narratively I think that’s less interesting. So he’s an archer. He’s an archer and also his priority is on Aragorn first and foremost, so Merry and Pip still get taken, and Frodo and Sam use the hubbub to GTFO, which is actually slightly more in line with the movie’s chronology, funnily enough. The three hunters become four, and then go on Merry & Pippin’s trails.

In Plot A, they’re hauling ass across the Emyn Muil, bolstered in some ways by Faramir’s experience as a Ranger. The problem is the issue of getting into Mordor and whether or not they pick up Gollum. I think, in a way that frustrates me immensely, they do end up taking Gollum, not because they need a guide, but because Gollum fulfils this deep psychological need for Frodo, and I think he would have argued for keeping Gollum regardless. Faramir is going to be fucked off about this, but will ultimately, I think, be deferential to the ringbearer.

So they go across the Dead Marshes, but they do NOT attempt the Black Gate first because Faramir’s not a fool. Do they go to Henneth Annûn? I say yes, but with the caveat that in all likelihood Boromir is gonna be there, which is gonna complicate stuff tremendously.

Over to Plot B!

The four hunters go to the Mark! They meet Éomer! Hey! Éomer recognises Faramir! (And he’s probably a little fucked off that he lost his horse lol). But whatever, he knows this guy, so he’s probably gonna be like, uhhh, everything you saw before in Edoras is much worse now. Also my cousin's dead and everything is bad. Here’s some horses, sorry for maybe accidentally killing your pals, see ya! And at this point I think Faramir’s probably having a, hmmm, g e n t l e  p s y c h i c  c r i s i s, because if he’s still very 👅 for Éowyn (which he is, sorry, he has to be) then he’s going to want to go there ASAP. Obviously though that’s not gonna happen, so: Merry and Pip chasing, Gandalf finding, Edoras arriving.

Which means Éowyn. If, at this point, she and Faramir already have something of an arrangement going on (nudge nudge) then she’s really not gonna give a shit about Aragorn. You know how in TTT it’s not even clear that she actually sees Legolas and Gimli? 100% that vibe with Aragorn too. Théoden’s gonna get his house in order, they’re going to head to Helm’s Deep, and Éowyn’s gonna get named head of house. (Faramir, if he starts off just thinking she’s beautiful, is going to have quite the paradigm shift here, because he’s going to have to start reckoning with her as not just a beautiful woman, but as a very, very intense person. This is how his love for her starts to mature.)

Sometimes I dream about him being like, ‘hey! I have some first hand experience of ruling a kingdom, how about I stay and…….. lend you a hand……..’ to Éowyn while she’s keeping watch on Edoras. This is wildly unlikely, but a delightful thought nonetheless. In the more likely case, which is that he goes to the Hornburg, she’s going to start feeling some strain about this whole war shebang, and it’s going to lead to some difficult conversations. Chief among them is that Faramir, as second son, actually has basically nothing to give her, which is not exactly a great position to be in when you’re in love with the niece of a king. I’m of the opinion that Éowyn’s not fussed by that stuff (she agrees to marry him when he’s prepping to give up a shit ton of power anyways), so she’s probably like, 'no, fuck you, we’re getting married.' And then he leaves, and it starts to emotionally unsettle her more and more.

If they don’t already have a thing, then it either begins at this point OR he gets overshadowed by Aragorn. In either case, off to Helm’s Deep he goes.

Helm’s Deep happens, I think Faramir ends up extraordinarily impressed by how the Rohirrim handle the Dunlenders afterwards, which also begins to soften his harsh opinion of them more generally.

They go to Isengard, Pippin looks in the Palantír, and away Pippin and Gandalf go. Both Gandalf and Faramir here would recognise that it would be batshit insane for Faramir to go back to MT now, because Denethor would read him like a picture book and he’d have to admit to the entire mission of the Fellowship.

Over in Plot A, I think we’re going to have some real emotional complexity vis a vis Faramir showing up at Henneth Annûn with two hobbits, a ring, and Boromir in control there. God, it would just be a disaster. My incredibly generous interpretation of this is that Faramir keeps the plan vague enough that Boromir lets them pass unhindered. My less generous interpretation is… yeah I don’t wanna do it tbh. It’s not pretty. It's also, to be clear: not an indictment of Boromir as a character. His response is entirely rational for someone expected to lead a kingdom and for someone put up against the unbelievable power of the One Ring. The reason Faramir continuously gets to pass largely untempted by the ring is because he's a guy with no actual responsibilities once you take the Rangers away. His understanding of his duty to Gondor is almost entirely conceptual in nature. He can think and talk about defending Gondor as it once was because there are several people above him in the hierarchy defending Gondor for what it is. This is also not an indictment of Faramir. He and Boromir just have wildly different realities to contend with.

They are going to go through Cirith Ungol even though Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass both speak Sindarin and don’t cotton on to what its name implies lol. This whole scene is much shorter because Faramir’s significantly more cautious, so there is no Orc capture and Sam doesn't take the Ring. This is where things get a bit complex, and where I don’t think I have the imagination to say much more. Sorry!

Back in Plot B, the lads catch up with Éowyn as they prep to go down the Paths of the Dead. If she and Faramir are a thing, this is where the real emotional distress kicks in for her. All of the men in her life have, at one point or another, functionally abandoned her, and here’s Faramir, love of her life, about to do the exact same thing. Faramir inevitably goes with the Grey Company even though she begs him not to. When she tries to convince them not to go down the Paths at all, he is in the fortunate enough position to throw up his hands and say 'not my call, actually. King’s in charge,' which lessens the emotional conflict there somewhat.

No part of me doubts that Éowyn wouldn’t then immediately go over his head to Aragorn. She would, she absolutely does not give a fuck. And she’s going to get knocked back re: joining them in exactly the same way as in the book, because Aragorn’s take here isn’t actually dependent on her personally, it’s dependent on the duty she’s been charged with, which is taking care of her people. (Also going to be an interesting narrative parallel to a later conversation between Faramir and Aragorn after the Pelennor, which I’ll explain in more detail later.)

Faramir will, perhaps somewhat less dismissively, say this to her. He learns much more obviously the way to talk to her on her own terms, and he’s not gonna fall into the trap of letting her be like ‘you just want me to wait and die after all the men are dead.’ He’s going to probably give her some line about her being the last organised line of defence, and he might even invoke Haleth! It’s not going to work, because Éowyn’s very aware of the apocalyptic nature of all of this, but it’s not going to cause such abject hatred and fury as it otherwise would.

If she and Faramir are not a thing, her emotional distress is as it is in the book, except now Faramir’s trying not to pout in the background. He might even step in to try and soften the blow.

Regardless, she ends up as Dernhelm, she rides to the Pelennor.

Boromir is the one responsible for the Osgiliath retreat, and because it’s heavily implied that Faramir only keeps his seat because he’s got this dumbass Númenor garbage going on ('master of man and beast' — king Beregond), Boromir’s going to get killed by the Witch king here.

This is going to send shockwaves through not just Denethor, but Minas Tirith more generally, because Boromir is fucking adored. Denethor’s going to go high holy crackers much quicker, mostly because Gandalf is a shit stirrer and is going to waste no time at all in announcing that Aragorn, The Rightful King, is on his way, and Denethor will — correctly — surmise that Faramir has chosen Aragorn over returning with whatever Isildur’s Bane is to Gondor. This is the end for Denethor.

Éowyn rides from Dunharrow, slays the Witch king. Faramir and Aragorn show up with the Army of Dead, Faramir does not end up injured, but does end up as the Steward (obviously) and (obviously) aware that Éowyn is in the HOH. And also that everybody else he loves is dead. Yeehaw.

Here’s where I think things get really interesting. I think, counter to the way this is portrayed a lot of the time, Faramir doesn’t go to the Black Gate at all. I think he stays in Minas Tirith, not just to organise the wider range defences (esp the Rohirrim dealing w the Druadan) but in this very grim preparation to lead the retreat from Minas Tirith if/when Frodo & Sam fail. I think he's kind of fine with this for two reasons. The first is that him being conscious to process the death of his father, and it coming hours after the death of his brother means that he's going to have a personal-political crisis, and he's going to have to take the defence of Gondor more seriously than he did before. Second, Aragorn's going to tell him to fucking stay put, and he's going to be fine with it because it means he's going to get to spend the last few days of his life with Éowyn.

He and Éowyn reunite in the HOH, there’s still a lot of deeply emotional stuff going on, but, at least now Faramir’s conscience is clear re: marrying her because, well, he’s the Steward now. Also their reunion is going to take on greater significance because she’ll have killed the thing that killed his brother. So, that’s a lot.

If they are not a thing before the Pelennor, she's still going to drag his ass over to the HOH so she can bitch about being stuck there. But this time he's not a fellow hospital-prisoner, he's having to actually do things, and he's going to use that to his advantage in terms of keeping her from doing stupid shit. I think he's going to try to involve her in some of the strategic questions re: the retreat if the Morannon feint fails. I think he's going to make a point of talking to her to get her help on dealing with the Rohir forces that are in and around the City. I think that's going to go a huge way to helping to ease her misery, and it's going to be such a significant vote of trust in her (even after she's done the unthinkable and deserted her people) that she's going to fall in love with him here, as per. And the contrast between him and Aragorn is going to be all the stronger for it.

So yes. Those are just some of the possibilities I think! Sorry for the word dump!!

[ghostnebula]

Wait does human richie lick into the other losers’ mouth? I get wolf but i thought human richie just made out with eddie like that. Also 2 questions: 1) how does reddie get together in this au? 2) pls get horny with this au and mouth licking ajdjdjdjdjhf

No, he only licks inside Eddie’s mouth when he’s human. He is well aware of what he’s doing. Eddie, on the other hand, is oblivious. At no point does it occur to him that wolf Richie will lick every Loser indiscriminately because he is a puppy with limited self-control who loves his friends, but human Richie only ever specifically targets him.

Like. Richie is pretty much making out with him and he’s like “Yeah normal werewolf behaviour lol”

(Of course once they’re dating he catches on but by then he’s like “Okay Richie just so you know that actually really turns me on so if you could like, exercise restraint, that would be fantastic.”)

I think that EVENTUALLY Richie is going to figure out how to woo Eddie with things that don’t involve hunting or finding good dens. Every time he brings Eddie to another hole in the ground or pile of rocks he is SO proud of himself and so excited to show Eddie and get his approval but Eddie is just... “Dude. This is the third time this week you’ve brought me all the fucking way out here to show me some dirt. You’re my best friend, Richie, and I really appreciate that you appreciate this... this dirt hole, but I was in the middle of doing my math homework.” 

Two things happen: 

One - Richie gives up trying to be traditional because he realizes Eddie isn’t even intentionally rejecting him, he just doesn’t get it

Two - Eddie complains about his predicament to some of the other Losers and how he swears it’s Richie leaving these dead animals at his door, and he doesn’t want to like... upset him by telling him to stop, but why is he even doing that? Is anyone else getting dead rabbits delivered to their porches on a regular basis? Also has anyone else had to deal with Richie taking them on wild adventures through the Barrens just to show them some kind of burrow? Is that where he’s getting the rabbits from?

Ben is laughing so fucking hard by the time he’s done ranting, and Mike is trying really hard not to laugh, and Eddie’s all “What’s the fuck’s so funny?!” And. Well. What kind of friends would Mike and Ben be if they didn’t tell Eddie he’s being very overtly flirted with? 

Eddie: No I’m not?

Mike: He’s been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you? He is very clearly trying to get your attention and is just doing that the way werewolves probably do.

Ben: I thought Richie was supposed to be the blind one?

Eddie: *bluescreens*

Of course, Richie has realized Eddie isn’t getting the hint, so the next morning he intercepts him on his morning jog with a bouquet of wildflowers he picked himself because he was in a rush and didn’t have time to wait for the fucking florist to open shop. And Eddie takes one look at Richie, all ruffled and out of breath clutching some fucking dandelions and chicory and he’s like. Yeah okay maybe Mike and Ben are right. Maybe this is really a thing. And he happens to have it on pretty good authority that he has also been in love with Richie for longer than Mike or Ben have known them and just got really good at hiding it because -- well, duh. Even if he had the slightest clue that the feeling might be mutual, he also has a sense of self-preservation. 

“You’ve been leaving dead animals on my porch,” he accuses one final time, and Richie goes all red in the face (well, more red than before) and nods, thrusting the flowers out towards him.

“I thought you’d get the message, but apparently werewolf traditions aren’t common knowledge. Who woulda thunk?”

“You’ve been leaving dead animals on my porch,” Eddie says again, reaching out to take the flowers (and weeds) Richie is presenting him with, “because you’re... in love with me?”

Richie nods mutely.

“Okay,” says Eddie. “Okay. Uh-huh.” He’s definitely blushing, too, but mostly because he’s realizing that he is an idiot with the observational skills of a cinderblock. “Well, I’m also in love with you, so that works out.”

Richie, of course, is more relieved than he’s ever been in his life, but before he can ask permission to kiss Eddie (like actually kiss him, properly, for the first time) Eddie interrupts with a, “Hey, Richie? Isn’t this poison oak?”

I don’t wanna make this too long but I’ll include horniness in the mouth-licking scenario in another answer. I am... pretty sure there are one or two asks in my inbox with the same idea anyway.

[gamerwoo]

Junhui: Oh, Positive (Part One)

Characters: Junhui x female reader

Genre/warnings: vampire/vampire hunter au, kinda angst but not really that angsty tbh, kinda crack thanks to flirty and sassy vampire!jun, lots n lots of cringey flirting

Word count: 2,163

Summary: As a vampire hunter, your job is pretty self-explanatory. But sometimes, the enemy has to become your ally, and that’s exactly what happens when you're ordered to track down Jun. To stop the coven of vampires that’re bringing up the death toll in Tokyo, you have to work with the thing you’re trained to kill -- assuming the two of you don’t kill each other in the process.

a/n: there will be more parts but i’m not sure how many which is why there isn’t a masterlist yet. this is just a lil idea i’ve had for a while sooooo it’s not really top priority so updates will probably be slow. but idk i wanted it out there (and yes i wrote this bc i love vampire!jun from that web series)

Next

“Don’t kill him, just capture him. Bring him back here when you do.”

Those stupid instructions kept repeating in your head. What was the point of capturing a vampire and not killing it? All vampires were bad. They killed humans. That’s why you existed. You were trained to kill them on sight, but now you were being told to show some sort of mercy. What sort of bullshit was that? 

But your boss gave you orders so you would follow them even if you didn’t agree with them.

It had taken a few days to figure out where to find this Jun. There were apparently a few places he hung around, so you were checking those places. It was well into 2am and most of the streets were empty. However, most vampires were known to linger in the alleyways of more crowded places, hoping to lure humans away to feed on them. So you stuck to the shadows, watching and listening carefully for any sign of--

‘Vampire.’

You froze as soon as you sensed it, knowing exactly where it was. You didn’t make it obvious you knew, but you stayed in your spot, slowly moving your head to seem like you were surveying the area. In reality, you knew it was perched on the fire escape above you, ready to pounce down on you.

But you were ready for that.

Just as it leaped down, you rolled out of the way, swiftly and smoothly pulling your knife out of its sheath. You were on your feet and running at the vampire quick enough to catch it off guard. Since you knew where it was, you had time to figure out your plan. So you tackled it to the ground, straddling it and holding your knife to its throat.

And lo and behold, it was just the vampire you were looking for. Jun looked up at you with a smirk, his eyes blood red as he eyed you up and down, licking his lips hungrily.

“Wasn’t expecting my dinner to be so quick on its feet,” he chuckled. “Shouldn’t have been so careless, I guess.”

“Shut up,” you stated boredly as you used your free hand to get the handcuffs from your belt.

“So what now?” he asked, ignoring your order. “Are you gonna kill me or whatever?”

“As much as I would like to,” you sighed as you began cuffing his hands together, “I have to take you somewhere.”

“Ooh, an adventure,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as you managed to get off of him and tug him to his feet. “Just one question, sweetheart--”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Do you really expect some handcuffs to stop me?”

You rolled your eyes before looking at him, “Do you not know anything about vampire hunters?”

He shrugged, “Never been caught by one.”

“Well, those will keep you from running away. Now let’s go.”

You turned to walk away, but, of course, Jun had other ideas.

“Thanks but uh, I think going home with you after the first date is too early for me,” he said, miming tipping his hat to you. “Sorry, but this won’t work out. Please don’t contact me again. Bye!”

You knew vampires were quick. You knew Jun could easily get away and you wouldn’t catch him. You’d have to follow your instincts to find him again, but you knew he’d definitely be hiding pretty well for the rest of the night and probably for a few weeks at minimum. But you also knew how the handcuffs worked while Jun had no idea.

He was only a few feet from you when he shouted out in pain and had dropped to his knees. He was hissing as he stared at his wrists that had felt the painful shock, looking between them like he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem.

“Those’ll shock you if you’re a certain distance away from me,” you explained, “and it’s so painful that you can’t get away. So I suggest you keep up or you’re going to be in a lot of pain.”

“Look, I’m into pain, but this is too much,” Jun huffed with a small pout as you dragged him up off his knees and shoved him to walk in the direction you wanted him to. “Do I at least get a safe word?”

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“That’s a really shitty safe word.”

-

You wondered why you’d spent days trying to track down Jun when he was so obnoxious and annoying. The entire way back to headquarters was awful, containing him trying to flirt with you or make some sort of comment that walked the line between flirting and being a snarky asshole. Honestly, that seemed to be all he was capable of.

“I really wish I wasn’t told to not kill you,” you sighed halfway through.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate,” was all he replied to you with before he carried on with whatever he was saying before -- you weren’t paying attention, you’d learned very quickly to tune him out.

Once you were back at headquarters, you thought maybe Jun would shut up a little bit. You thought maybe being in a place full of top of the line vampire hunters would intimidate him into silence, but he seemed to not be fazed by anything at all. He had something to say to pretty much every person you walked past, and it got to a point where you were pretty positive every hunter in there wanted to kill him. The guy was just so annoying.

You finally reached the boss’s office. You knocked on the door three times as Jun leaned down and whispered, “Is this where I die? Because I’d like the heads up when it finally happens, y’know?”

You knew Jun definitely wouldn’t just take his death lying down. Hell, he probably had something up his sleeve to get out if he had to, he probably wanted to just see where this was going -- and you would be right about that because he figured he had nothing better to do. 

“I wish,” you mumbled as you heard your boss tell you to enter.

Opening the door and walking in, you went straight to the boss’s desk. Jun, however, decided to take his sweet ass time and look around the large room, his head tilting back as he looked all the way up at the ceiling and rolled his head around to look at the other side of the room. But being too far from you caused his cuffs to shock him, and he let out a surprised yelp.

“Are you kidding me?!” he demanded in annoyance.

You just silently snickered at him.

“I’m impressed you found him,” your boss, Jicheol noted as he stood up from his desk and observed Jun.

Hearing that familiar voice, Jun snapped his head down to look at the man behind the desk. His face spread into a smirk as he approached the desk, standing beside you.

“Ji, long time, no see,” he said casually as if they were old friends. “Been a while since you were trying to slaughter me. How’s the wife?”

“Dead,” Jicheol deadpanned.

Jun opened his mouth but nothing came out as he blinked, “Okay, not the reply I was expecting...”

“So what did I have to drag this pain in the ass here for?” you sighed, wanting to get this whole thing done and over with.

Jicheol grabbed his computer monitor with both hands and turned the screen to face you. It was an article about the death toll in Japan going up, and the worst of it seeming to stem from Tokyo. Nobody was able to figure out what it was, but the three of you knew exactly what was causing it.

“As you’re aware, _____, a powerful coven of vampires is ravaging Tokyo and spreading to the rest of Japan,” Jicheol began, looking between you and Jun. “Jun here is, unfortunately, one of the most infamous vampires in Korea for how hard he is to catch, and for how strong he is.”

“Thanks, chief,” Jun grinned.

You already hated where this was going.

“That’s why I want you to go with him to Tokyo--”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Jun quickly interrupted. “Let’s go back to when you were just complimenting me, yeah? You ruined it with the whole ‘go to another country with this party pooper’ thing.”

Jicheol sighed, folding his hands together in front of him, “_____ is the strongest vampire hunter we have, but all the best in Japan have tried to catch this coven and have come up dead. If we want to stop them, we need the help of a strong vampire, too.”

“And why would I help vampire hunters?” Jun quizzed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll just kill me when it’s over.”

“Maybe not...” Jicheol shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘maybe not’?” you demanded. 

“He could be useful to us if he chooses to cooperate with us for this. And if he chooses to stay with us, of course he’ll be spared his life, and we’ll provide protection, housing, and means of food.”

“We’re going to protect a vampire?” you clarified. “Jicheol--”

“Yeah, that seems counterproductive for a group of vampire hunters,” Jun agreed.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling, “Can you not interrupt me?”

“Can you get to your point faster then?” he countered.

Instead of speaking on your bickering, Jicheol sighed and continued, “It would be helpful to keep a few vampires on our side to weed out the difficult ones. Look, we could sit here all night and discuss rhymes and reasons but the faster I get the two of you to Tokyo, the faster we can fix this issue.”

“Do I get a negotiation?” Jun asked.

You snorted, glancing down at his handcuffed wrists before looking back at him, “I really don’t think you’re in a position for negotiating, bud.”

But instead, Jicheol replied with, “What kind of negotiation?”

Jun flashed a snarky grin your way before taking a step forward and clearing his throat, “I want protection for my brothers, too. That’s first and foremost.”

“How many?” Jicheol questioned, raising his eyebrows to show he was interested.

“Four.”

“Would they be willing to help?”

“...I can talk to them.”

Jicheol nodded, “Continue.”

“I want cool clothes like sweet cheeks over here,” Jun said, nodding his head toward you, “and I want a really nice umbrella so I can go outside during the day. And I want--”

“We can offer your friends protection,” Jicheol stated.

Jun nodded, stepping back, “Cool, thank you, sir.”

You looked incredulously between the two men, “So this is seriously happening?!”

“We’ll prepare the flight for tomorrow night,” Jicheol explained, essentially ignoring your comment, “so that gives Jun time to talk with his friends. _____, I would like if you accompanied him to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

You wanted to tell Jicheol he was out of his goddamn mind if he thought sending you alone into five vampires was a reasonable idea, but the look on your face said it all. He simply said he knew you could handle it before carrying on.

“We’ll handle packing and such. We’ll equip you with everything you’ll need and everything that’ll help you. Please report back here tomorrow at midnight.”

“What do I do with him until tomorrow night?” you wondered.

“Take him with you,” Jicheol replied as if the answer was obvious.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “You-- Y-you want me to babysit a handcuffed vampire all day?”

Jicheol cocked his head, “Do you think you can’t handle it?”

“Of course I can!” you insisted immediately.

“Then what’s the issue, _____?”

You really wanted to snap at Jicheol and tell him to go fuck himself, but instead you just grumbled and turned sharply on your heels to leave. Jun giggled at your angry expression and began to follow after you.

“Goodbye, Jicheol!” he sang over his shoulder. “See ya later!”

“You two have fun,” Jicheol smirked playfully.

Jun sighed as he fell in step beside you, seeming more amused than ever now, “Oh, I’m positive we will. Isn’t that right, _____?”

You frowned, refusing to look at him, “Eat a dick.”

As the door closed behind you and the two of you walked down the hallway, Jun tisked, “I would watch your attitude around me or I just might end up eating you, sunshine.”

“I’d like to see you try, bloodsucker,” you shot back, glaring at him now. “I can kill you just as easy.”

He chuckled shaking his head as his voice dropped lower, “That’s not the kind of eating I meant.”

You cursed yourself for blushing -- and Jun definitely noticed because he was giggling about it -- and cursed Jicheol for getting you into this mess. But the sooner everything was over with, the sooner you didn’t have to deal with Junhui.

Tomorrow night really could not come faster.

[whumphoarder]

Death by Waffles

Summary: When Tony decides to adopt a cat for Morgan, Peter is almost more excited about it than the six-year-old. He just failed to mention one minor issue before coming to visit at the lake house for the weekend.

Or, in which Peter is horrifically allergic to cats but JUST LOVES THEM SO MUCH.

Word count: 1,638

Genre: Fluff, slight whump, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading and giving me ideas! 

Link to read on Ao3

“I still think we should have called him Winston Furrchill,” Tony says with a shrug, watching Peter, who’s sitting cross legged on the living room floor, grinning ear-to-ear, stroking the long-haired cat’s fur.

“That’s so boorrring, Daddy,” Morgan complains. She grabs the little feather teaser and dangles it in front of the cat’s face. He lifts a paw lazily to bat at it. “All your ideas were so boring.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony balks at her, eliciting giggles from Peter and a dramatic groan from the six-year-old. “My ideas were gold. Mr. Meowgi. Bill Clawsby. Genghis Khat.”

Peter snaps once and shoots a finger gun Tony’s direction. “Luke Skywhisker!” he throws in, causing Morgan to groan. “Ooh! Call him Nick Furr-y!”

“No! His name is Waffles!” Morgan exclaims, throwing up her hands in exasperation and causing the kitty in question to dart across the room and dive into his favorite hiding place—the cardboard box that his brand new, untouched, three-hundred-dollar cat tree came in. Tony just rolls his eyes; it’s behavior like this that makes him almost regret spending the last four days in the workshop designing that damn feline an elaborate catwalk and perch system spanning every room of the lake house.

(Almost.)

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout.

“Aw, Mo, we were just teasing,” Peter says, patting her arm with a kind smile. “Waffles is a great name—I love it.”

That seems to console her. She grins back at him. “It’s ‘cus when we brought him home, he was really scared the first day and he just wanted to hide under my bed. So Daddy said I could eat breakfast in my room with him so he’d feel safer, but then I had to go to the bathroom and when I was gone he stole my waffle,” she rambles.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Your cat ate a waffle?”

Morgan nods. “Uh-huh, and then he puked it up again on the carpet!” she explains cheerfully.

“Ah yes, fond memories…” Tony mutters.

“So I named him Waffles,” Morgan concludes. “But I almost called him Syrup, ‘cus he got that on his paws when he walked on the plate, and then he ran around everywhere and it was all sticky. Mommy says that’s why we got ants after.”

While Peter snorts out a laugh, Tony just runs a hand over his face and sighs. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Peter laughs, rubbing a hand at his eyes. He uncrosses his legs and gets to his feet to walk over to the box where Morgan is trying to lure Waffles out again. “I always wanted a cat, but May never let me get one—said they were too much hassle.”

“They are,” Tony says emphatically.

“Are not,” Morgan disagrees. As Peter sits down by the box, she picks up the bag of kitty treats and starts shaking it, causing Waffles to poke his head out. She pours out three little treats onto her open palm. He sniffs them suspiciously, then turns his nose up and buries himself back in the box.

Morgan turns to Tony and shrugs. “I don’t think he likes chicken flavor anymore. You gotta get him the salmon ones, Daddy.”

“But you told me this morning that he doesn’t like salmon,” Tony argues. “He only eats the premium chicken with gravy.”

Morgan shakes her head. “No, no that’s his wet food. He only eats dry salmon, and wet chicken. And sometimes tuna, but only that one in the blue bag.”

“And waffles,” Peter throws in with a wry smile, sitting down to start stroking the cat inside the box. “Don’t forget the waffles, Mr. Stark.”

“At this rate, I’m thinking it’d be better to just install a cat flap and let him find his own mice for dinner,” Tony grumbles.

As if on cue, Waffles meows irritably and leaps out of the cardboard box, straight onto Peter’s lap. However in doing so, the cat’s fluffy tail tickles the kid’s nose. Peter sneezes twice—rather violently—startling the cat to the point that it shoots across the room and climbs halfway up the drapes.

“Waffles!” Morgan cries and races after him.

Sniffling a bit, Peter gives a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

Tony rolls his eyes and extends a hand to help lever the kid up again. Peter rubs at his eyes again—which Tony notices are redder than usual. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you sure ‘too much hassle’ was the only reason May was against you having cats?”

Something flashes across Peter’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “Yeah, yeah of course. Well, that and she’s more of a dog person, really, but they’re not allowed in the apartment.”

“Hm.” Tony glances at his watch. “Alright, well it’s almost His Royal Highness’ dinner time.” He gestures to the kitchen. “Let’s go see if we can get him to choke down some caviar and truffles or something…”

X

Three hours later, Tony can’t ignore the signs any longer. After witnessing Peter’s third sneezing fit since dinner, he privately pulls the kid out into the kitchen. “Pete, c’mon,” he sighs. “Just admit it already.”

Taking a tissue from the box Tony holds out to him, Peter shrugs innocently. “Alright, you got me. Guess I’m coming down with a cold.” He wipes his nose.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “A cold that began ten minutes after entering our home and has only gotten progressively worse since?”

Peter chuckles a bit. “Yeah, go figure, right? Perfect timing for my weekend off. What does Doctor Banner call that again?” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “Starts with an L…”

“Pete…”

“Leisure sickness!” he recalls, his face lighting up. “That’s the word. Think I’ve got that.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony starts ticking each symptom off on his fingers. “Your nose is running, your eyes are watery, you’re sneezing—”

“Which is all from the cold,” Peter cuts him off. He coughs twice into his elbow. “See? Sick.”

Tony scoffs. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once admitted to being sick unprompted.” He pauses a beat. “Including that time you were actively vomiting.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck and gives a sheepish grin. “So I'm really demonstrating growth, then, huh?”

Tony ignores him and soldiers on. “You’re itching,” he says, gesturing to the red welts emerging on Peter’s forearms and neck. “You’re getting a rash—”

Peter tugs his hoodie sleeves down to cover them. “I think that’s the new laundry soap I’ve been using...”

Tony blinks at him. “Your eyes are bright red, kid.”

Peter opens his mouth to retort something, but then closes it again. He drops his gaze to the floor and lets out a hard sigh. “Okay… okay you’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna say it around Morgan.” He looks up and, with a totally straight expression, whispers, “I’ve been smoking weed, Mr. Stark. I’m actually tripping balls right now.”

“Peter, just admit that you’re allergic to cats!”

“Huh?” Morgan cries from the living room where she has her kitty on her lap while she watches Curious George. “Peter’s allergic to Waffles?!” The cat dives off her lap and out into the kitchen, hiding behind Peter’s leg.

Peter winces. Then his nose wrinkles up and he sneezes four times into his wad of tissues. When he draws in his next breath, it’s more of a wheeze.

Tony heaves out a sigh. “Alright, we’re done here.” He bends down and scoops the cat up. “Waffles is staying in Pep’s office for the remainder of this weekend.”

“What?” Morgan blurts.

“Yeah, what?” Peter echos, snatching the cat back from Tony’s arms. “You can’t do that!”

“Pete, he’s making you sick,” Tony points out as Peter sneezes yet again. “If you’re already this bad in three hours, how do you expect to breathe in a couple more days?”

Peter looks stricken. “But… But you don’t understand.” He hugs the cat a little tighter and Tony swears he can see fresh hives emerging on Peter’s neck. “I just love him so much, Mr. Stark,” he says earnestly. “I would honestly die for this cat.”

Tony sighs and pats his shoulder consolingly. “Yeah, and that’s looking more and more like it might become reality, kiddo...”

X

It takes some convincing—and a bit of bribery—but eventually he gets the kids to agree to his plan. In the end, Morgan and Peter settle for a six-foot-tall ‘Royal Castle Kitty Condo’ (complete with a litter moat) in exchange for Waffles’ temporary banishment. He then sends Peter to the guest room while he and Morgan transfer the cat’s most essential supplies into the office, grateful for once that Pepper’s staying downtown this weekend.

Waffles promptly makes himself at home on the very top of her bookshelf—after first knocking over two glass figurines and a meticulously ordered stack of papers, sending legal documents flying around the room.

(Tony wonders just what kind of royal castle equivalent he’s going to have to bribe Pepper with when she gets back.)

X

It’s 12:16 a.m. when Tony remembers that they forgot to give Waffles his anti-hairball paste that evening and comes grumbling out of bed to do so.

It’s 12:19 a.m. when Tony opens the office door to see Peter, sitting on the floor with that damn cat curled up in his lap, wheezing out a high-pitched chant of, “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a good boy?” between puffs of his inhaler as he strokes Waffles’ fur.

It’s 12:21 a.m. when Tony just gives up trying to reason with the kid and goes raiding the bathroom cabinets for Benadryl.

X

Link to all my fics

If you liked this story, you might also like:

Beanimia

Morgan Stark, M.D.

Fevers, Bananas, & Math Lessons

[supercalvin]

breaking the rules but 5WR for the prompt thing? i was just thinking they went well together and you’d be able to do something crazy awesome with it :)

5. High School AU + W. Pretend Relationship + R. In Vino Veritas

There are no rules here, friend. You can do whatever you want, and I certainly love this combination of tropes+AU. Have I ever mentioned that High School AUs are a guilty pleasure of mine? Which is probably why this turned out so long. Omg why can’t I write 500 word ficlets anymore???

Prompts  (or any prompt)  + Ficlets

***

Lance had invited Merlin to this party, which was the only reason he was here.  It wasn’t that hed didn’t normally go to parties. He did. It’s just he usually hung around a different crowd. Will’s parties were smaller, usually no more than ten kids sitting around his living room, staying up too late, playing video games, and maybe baking some of Freya’s weed into badly made brownies.

Lance, on the other hand, was the type of person to get along with a lot of different people. So not only was he close friends with Merlin, but he also happened to be friends with people in the drama club, the student council, and the football team. To be fair, it was hard not to like Lance.

So Merlin didn’t usually go to crazy house parties filled with football and rugby players. He was beginning to wish he had made Will come with him, even though he knew Will would just complain the whole time. Merlin was chatting with Elyan, a bloke he knew from maths class, trying his best to not seem out of place. He sipped on his beer, and prayed Lance would come save him at some point.

“Hey, it’s Merlin!”

To say that Merlin was surprised when Arthur Pendragon flung an arm around his shoulder and smiled at him would be an understatement. To say that Merlin was surprised Arthur Pendragon knew his name and apparently was happy to see him, was an astronomical understatement.

“Hey,” Merlin smiled, trying his best to seem nonchalant. Arthur smelled strongly of cologne, and Merlin had to mentally remind his tipsy-brain that saying ‘you smell good’ would be supremely awkward.

“Lance said he invited you,” Arthur said, still smiling at him. “I’m glad you made it.”

Merlin shrugged, “Why not, I guess?”

“Arthur!” Someone from across the kitchen yelled, “Where are the towels?”

Arthur groaned, “Bunch of children. I’ll be back,” Arthur tussled Merlin’s hair, playfully.

“That was weird,” Merlin said.

“Was it?” Elyan asked, “Arthur’s just like that when he gets more than one beer in him.”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with him. I didn’t know he knew who I was.”

Elyan tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t you have history with us last year? You know, with Mr. Garrah?”

Merlin thought back. Maybe he had. But he hadn’t spent much time with Arthur. To say the least, Arthur Pendragon was the Golden Boy oftheir school. He was certainly one of the most popular kids. He was a star footballer. Alright enough in his classes, from what Merlin could tell. Definitely was fit. God forbid if Merlin forgot how fit Arthur was. Merlin was bisexual and was very aware of the fact that in a few hours it would hit him that ArthurPendragon had just been pressed up against him.

But, Merlin reminded himself, he was the only out-and-proud kid at school. And no matter how much Merlin drooled over him; Arthur Pendragon was in a serious relationship with Gwen Smith. Merlin had known Gwen since his first year in Camelot. They had kissed during a Truth-or-Dare game at Will’s back in Year 9. He hadn’t spent much time with her lately, since their schedules didn’t line up, but he assumed if Gwen liked Arthur, then he must bealright.

The party continued for another hour or so, everyone loosening up as more beer was drunk. Merlin mingled with people he had never talked to before and if he was being honest he was having a great time. Merlin wasn’t drunk, per se, but he certainly wasn’t sober by the time Arthur crossed hispath again.

Merlin was sitting on a couch, and Arthur plopped himself down right next to Merlin.

“Hey, you like Triple Goddess, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Merlin asked, not sure how Arthur would know his favorite band.

“You wear their concert shirts a lot.”

Merlin wasn’t sure how often he wore Triple Goddess shirts, but he wondered if it was too much if Arthur noticed them.

“I looked them up after I saw your shirt. They’re really nice to listen to while I study. They’re really low-key,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, I listen to them while I code,” Merlin said, wondering too late if it was too nerdy to mention that he liked to write his own computer programs. He tried to cover it quickly, “I haven’t listened to their new album yet. Haven’t the time.”

“I have it upstairs, if you want. Come on,” Arthur stood up and offered his hand. Merlin took it without much thought.

Upstairs was less crowded. Most of the doors were closed andwhen Arthur pulled out a key to open his bedroom door, Merlin figured that was how Arthur managed to keep things from getting out of hand. It didn’t click that Merlin would be alone with Arthur until the door closed behind him.

Arthur pulled out his laptop and popped open the album. The noise from the party was much more subdued in Arthur’s room, and the low sounds of piano and violin came through clearly. Merlin looked around the room as themusic played, unsurprised to see a football banner along with an action movie poster. The desk was scattered with books and the bed was a rumpled unmade mess. Arthur obviously hadn’t expected anyone here tonight. Merlin wondered if Gwen was at this party. He hadn’t seen her. Probably not, if Arthur was here with Merlin of all people.

“Isn’t the lead singer of Triple Goddess gay?”

Merlin chewed on his nail nervously wondering if this was a trick question. He tried to remember that Gwen was a cool person, and she wouldn’t date a homophobe. Hopefully.

“Yeah, she is…” Merlin said, “And the drummer is trans, actually.”

Arthur hummed. He was leaning against his desk, flipping around one of his books. He looked nervous, which was strange to Merlin.

The song changed and the beat was mellower.

“Is that, uh, why you got into the band?”

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, “Actually, yeah, that’s how I found out about them. They have a music video with two guys, uh, you know, together.” Merlin shrugged. He hadn’t talked much about his sexuality with anyone besides Will or his mum. He wasn’t sure why Arthur was asking. Maybe he was just trying to make conversation with what little he knew about Merlin.

“Yeah, I saw that one.”

Merlin rocked back on his heels.

“So…” Merlin struggled to think of anything he knew about Arthur. But before Merlin could ask about football, and absolutely stick his foot in his mouth, Arthur beat him to it.

“I’m glad you came. To the party. I told Lance to inviteyou.”

“What? Why?”

“I, uh,” Arthur looked up, like there was going to be an answer on the ceiling. “Shit, Gwen said this was going to be easy.” He set down his book and stepped up close to Merlin. He cleared his throat.  “I think you’re fit. And smart. And I know we don’t really know each other, but I’ve never had a good reason to talk to you before.”

Merlin blinked at him.

He took several seconds to process all that.

“Sorry, what was the first one?”

Arthur smiled, “I think you’re fit.”

“B-but what about Gwen!” Merlin stuttered.

“Oh, right.” Arthur said, as if he had forgotten about his girlfriend. “I’m her beard. Or we are each other’s beards? Doesn’t matter. She’s dating my step-sister Morgana. We told our Dad that she’s dating me, so that when she stays over, she sleeps in Morgana’s room. It’s a nice set up.”

Merlin blinked a couple times.

“Uh. Merlin?”

“I think I’m going to need a moment,” Merlin held up a hand. “You’re gay?”

“Yeah,” Arthur shrugged and gestured to himself, as if that cleared that up.

“Holy shit, thank you Jesus,” Merlin said, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Arthur laughed hard and Merlin smacked his shoulder when he wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck off, you know you’re fit! Don’t torture me.”

“You think I’m fit?” Arthur asked, seeming to be truly interested in the answer.

“Uh, yeah,” Merlin said, trying to suppress a nervous giggle.

Arthur smiled, and Merlin noticed that his teeth weren’t completely straight. There was something charming about him that had butterflies flutteringin Merlin’s stomach.

“So, uh, I’m not out to my Dad. But uh, would you like to, Idon’t know…We could see a film. Or you could come over and we could play some video games? Or something.”

Merlin smiled, “Yeah, I could do that.” Merlin stepped up closer to Arthur, suddenly feeling very brave. “How do you feel about snogging for a bit before going back down to the party?”

Arthur’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Merlin raised a brow.

“That wasn’t a ‘no.’” Arthur said quickly, “I’m just, uh… I’ve never kissed a boy.”

Merlin smiled, “Want to?”

Arthur nodded, “Yeah,” His eyes trailed down to Merlin’s lips. It didn’t take much movement to tilt his head to the side and pull Arthur into a kiss.

When they made it back down to the party, no one seemed to notice that their lips were red and chapped. Merlin had a bit of a bruise on his neck, but he would just cover it up with a scarf tomorrow.

***

Prompts (or any prompt)  + Ficlets

[inukag-week]

Acceptance

Submitted by: @shupadoop

It’s not the smoothest writing, but I’d be damned if I’d missed day 1 of my first Inukag week because of lack of editing time. Warning: smut ahead (near the end). Length: approx 6 pages. Sorry I’m Posting a day late. I didn’t realize I still don’t show in search results :’( 

Can I really never go back? A full week passed since Kagome was forcibly removed from the time that she had long called home. Every day that week she checked on the well twice; once before school and once right after. And sometimes when she thought she heard Inuyasha’s voice on the wind, but it was always her imagination.Another week passed and the faux-assured smile she always wore was starting to fade.

“Kagome, this is the most days in a row we’ve seen you all year! We’re so glad you’re feeling better. But is something bothering you?”

“I just can’t believe I’m able to be at school so much now. It’s kind of a shock coming back.”A third week and her perfectly practiced smile was gone completely.“Kagome, why do you look so sad? Did something happen with your delinquent boyfriend?”

“Did he secretly like that you were sick and needed him and now he can’t handle your independence?”

“Did he see you flirting with Hojo and got so jealous he bolted?”

“He’s gone far away and I can’t see him anymore.”

“He went to a foreign school? That’s too bad, but I bet it will be really exciting when you can finally visit him!”At that Kagome started to sob.————————————————————————————————

“Miss Higurashi, we don’t normally make exceptions, but given how sick you’ve been, we want to make sure you have every chance of getting into a good high school. We’d hate to hold you back for something beyond your control. We are happy to reschedule some of your tests so you have extra time to study and we can arrange for you to have some one-on-one time with some of your teachers. Please, just let us know how we can help. We’re relieved to see you back at school.

”I can’t say no to that. Even if I could go back-She broke her thought to avoid further crying.

“… Thank you. That’s very kind. I’ll work my very hardest.”

————————————————————————————————

It was true that throughout her time in the Feudal era, (lack of) studying made her panic, but it was also a welcome relief from the tension of being in constant life and death situations. Now that it was all she had to do, it felt so pointless.

I could be helping orphaned children, or cultivating medicinal plants, or…

But she couldn’t. Once again she was just a school girl.

As she studied more and more, Kagome went to the well less and less, only occasionally stopping by when she could no longer bury her grief beneath her studies.

“Hey, sis. I thought you’d given up checking on the well.”

“Of course I haven’t, how could you say that?”

“So you really think Inuyasha will be able to make it back here some day?”

“Of course he will!”

Won’t he?

She turned back to the house for dinner when her mother called to her.

“Hey, Kagome, Mrs. Hojo gave me this plant. She said it’s been used for hundreds of years to treat inflammation. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, Kaede taught me about it. I used to prepare it all the time for Inuyasha, even though he insisted he didn’t need it. You grind the leaves and use it topically.”

“We have a patch of dirt in the back that is mostly full of weeds now. I thought it could go there. Maybe you’d like to tend to it?”

“… Yeah. … I guess I would. Thanks, mom.”

————————————————————————————————

Even when her heart wasn’t in it, Kagome was always true to her word. She studied  as if her life depended on it. She got excellent marks, even in math, and started high school with her friends.

“We are finally in high school! This is so exciting! I heard they have great sport programs here!”

“You should try out for Basketball, Yumi; you tower over everyone else since that growth spurt.”

“I’m going to try swimming.”“How about you, Kagome?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, I don’t know. I’m not really good at sports.”

“What do you mean? You were always on the winning team when we played in class. And you looked so healthy every time you came to school even after you’d been off sick for so long. That must indicate you have a strong physique.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They were walking together to the first day’s assembly when Kagome caught something in the corner of her eye that made her freeze, causing a pile-up of new students behind her.

Kikyo!?

She ran to the window overlooking the courtyard for a better view.

No. Not Kikyo. Just an upper year with their hair tied low… holding a bow?

“Maybe I’ll join the archery team.”

“Really? That would be great, Kagome. I’ve heard archery is really hard and this school has one of the best teams in the country.”

“That’s it. I’ll try out for archery.”

As you might expect, Kagome easily beat out the competition. Firing at a still target was nothing after purifying tiny jewel shards embedded in wriggling demons. She became the youngest competing member on the team, and shortly after, the youngest team captain.

“We’re so proud of you, Kagome!” said her mother, after hearing the good news. “You must be enjoying high school then.”

“… Yeah,” still a touch of longing in her voice.

“What subjects do you think you’ll focus on?”

“I really don’t know. It all felt so far away before, and now the decision is right in front of me. I have no idea.”

“Why not history?” suggested Souta. “You could study the feudal era. You’d have a big advantage over everybody else. None of you classmates have lived it.”

“Yeah… I guess that’s true.”

The following morning after breakfast, Kagome grabbed her bag, and her bow and arrow set, and left for class, glancing at the well that she no longer visited, but was still present in the back of her mind.

History. Why not? It’s not the same as living it, but maybe it could bring me some peace now that I’m cut off from that world. Maybe I’ll finally learn why demons no longer live in Japan.

“Help, stop him! My puppy is in that bag he stole!”

Kagome ran the rest of the way down the steps to see the urgent scene ahead. Instinctively she grabbed one of her heavy, rubber-tipped practice arrows and shot the thief straight in the neck. She did a running slide toward him, catching the terrified puppy. Unaware of what she was doing, she started to rub its pointy ears.

“Miss, thank you! That was incredible!”

“Oh, you’re welcome. Don’t mention it. Happy to help.”

When did I get so capable?

In fact she was always capable. She thought back to one of her earliest adventures with Inuyasha when she helped an angry spirit find Nirvana. Inuyasha told her he knew nothing of spirits and she’d have to figure it out on her own. And she did. When did she become so reliant on others?————————————————————————————————

Throughout high school she become more and more self-assured. She rivalled Hojo for the title of Most Likely to Have a Home Remedy on Hand. She led her archery team to victory in nearly every match. She settled on history and biology as her focal subjects - I might as well make use of all Kaede taught me about plants, right? - and her time in the past started to feel less like reality and more like a wonderful dream she always knew she would have to wake up from eventually.“

Kagome, do you know which university you want to go to? I was thinking of this place,” she thrust a brochure into Kagome’s hands. “It’s far, though. I hope I know someone else going. Then we could be roommates.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about going there too. They have a really good horticulture program, and a great history department. Let’s be roommates!”After a few late nights, and just a couple tears, Kagome graduated high school with excellent exam results to start university. She immediately joined the archery team, and created a spin-off team where she worked with kids in difficult situations teaching them to channel their anger into the bow instead of a more dangerous vice. Her and Yumi’s apartment became known across campus as the breathing room. Flowers and herbs climbed the walls, and Kagome gladly shared her knowledge with anybody who asked.

“Everybody should know. There is so much basic first aid you can do at home with these plants. You wouldn’t have to worry about emergency runs to the drug store.”

From the outside Kagome’s life looked perfect. From the inside, she couldn’t complain, but there was still a loneliness she couldn’t overcome. She tried to date a bit throughout high school, but the boys around her were so boring. In the past it annoyed her to no end that Inuyasha couldn’t put the thought of Kikyo to rest, but at least his story was a real tragedy that would be difficult for anybody to overcome. She just found herself with loser hung up on their exes.

“Come on, Kagome, they weren’t all so bad. What about Mizore’s brother? He was sweet. And didn’t you say he was a good kisser.”

“Yeah, but… I just didn’t feel anything in the end.”

She didn’t feel anything because she didn’t want to feel anything. But she knew this couldn’t last. She wouldn’t be truly happy in her present until she could fully let go of the past she knew she’d never see again.

At this rate I’ll die an old maid. Do I really want to be celibate the rest of my life? I’m sure even jealous Inuyasha wouldn’t wish that on me.

————————————————————————————————

“Kagome, are you sure you don’t want to come to the party? There will be lots of cute gu-uys.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks, though.”

“Come on, I thought you wanted to meet a nice guy. You have to get out there eventually.”

“I know, but my shoulder really hurts after archery. I’m just not up for it tonight. But invite me next time, I promise, I’ll put the effort in.”

“Okay. I’m going to hold you to that.”

I know I have to make an effort. But I can make the effort next week, right? I’ve waited this long.

After Yumi left Kagome’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kagome. Will you be home tonight.”

“Hi, Souta. Yeah. I’m not going anywhere. Why?

”“I have a surprise for you. Expect the doorbell to ring in 10 minutes.”

“10 minutes? How can you get here so quickly?”

“You’ll see.”

She swore she heard a giggle as Souta hung up the phone.

She went to the kitchen to make some tea. 10 minutes passed and she heard a knock. She walked across the apartment to open the front door, “Souta?” but nobody was there. Maybe someone else tried the wrong door? When she turned around she nearly screamed. Perched on her window ledge was Inuyasha. She rushed to let him in.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again! I checked the well all the time for months, but it seemed so hopeless.”

“I thought I’d have to give up too. But Sango and Miroku had their third child yesterday and I couldn’t help but think of the life I’d hoped you and I would live. I had to try one more time.”

“I’m so glad you did.

”They started to lean in, but the tension of years apart made them hesitate.“Kagome, you aren’t seeing anybody else, are you?”

“No. Are you?”

Inuyasha just laughed. With that, Kagome threw her arms around his neck and kissed him like nobody else ever had. And nobody else ever would. A kiss that made his head spin and his blood run hot. With her nails she traced lines down the sides of his face, past his neck and onto his chest. She started to pull apart the fabric of his iconic red outfit. He stared at her in disbelief.

“Don’t you want to?” she asked. “After all this time?”

“I - uh… I-“

“I do.”

His look of confusion turned to panic. He didn’t know what to expect of Kagome after more than 3 years, but he definitely didn’t expect this. She was no longer the girl who blushed at the thought of boys and shielded her face from any hint of nudity. She was a confident woman who went after what she wanted.

“Didn’t you once tell Miroku it’s only a fool who refuses a woman who offers herself?”

“Did I?” panic turned to horror.

“Well?”

She smiled at him, and his expression eased. He allowed himself to be guided to her bedroom.She locked the door and resumed where she had stopped. She slipped her hands beneath the fabric that covered him and exposed his chest and shoulders. Then she undid the ties of his hakama and let everything fall to the floor. She stared hungrily at his naked body.

“Are you afraid to undress me?” He was. “I won’t stop you.”

Slowly Inuyasha undid her buttons and pulled the shirt down her arms and to the floor. Then he ran his hands down her back to undo her bra clasps and skirt.Finally she removed her panties and sat at the end of her bed, waiting to see what he would do next.

He sat down beside her, clearly afraid of making a wrong move. She hopped into his lap and locked him into a deep kiss. She was so wet and dripping onto his erection that grew bigger with each passing second. She rubbed herself up and down his length and he thought he might burst on the spot.

“Not what you expected to find, huh?”

“No.”

“Better?”

“Yeah.”She motioned for Inuyasha to move further up the bed. “Let me get a condom. You’re in luck, the nurse’s office was handing them out this week.”

“What’s a condom?”

“It’s so that I won’t get pregnant.”

“… Don’t you want to?”

Kagome laughed. “Eventually. Not right now. It would be too hard with school”

“School? It’s been 3 years, didn’t you already have school?”

Kagome laughed again. “I’ll explain later. For now, we need a condom.”

They slithered up the bed so she could pull one out of her bedside table. Inuyasha moaned as she slipped it on him, and then slipped him into her. She ground herself into his lap, steadily rocking back and forth, her hands tangled in his beautiful silver hair. He raked his claws gently over the soft skin of her thighs and she thought he might end her then and there. An explosion went off somewhere inside of her and she began to bounce on him, pushing her clit into the base of his shaft with every movement. She squealed and arched her back while Inuyasha squeezed her breasts and kissed her neck. When her breathing calmed back down he flipped her over and thrust against her most excitable spots. She screamed and dug her fingers into his back.

“Do I need to slow down?”

“NO!”

He started to moan while she screamed from the wonderful pressure he created inside her.

“I love you, Inuyasha.”

At that he came undone.

When he finally caught his breath he said “I love you too.”

For a moment they basked in the warm after-glow, but soon the sticky reality got the better of them.

“Leaves you really dirty, doesn’t it? Why don’t we take a bath.”

She drew a bath and motioned Inuyasha to get in first, so she could lean into his embrace.

“Say, Kagome, “ Inuyasha sounded nervous. “When will you come back with me to my time?”

“Well, things are different now, Inuyasha. I have a life here, and I can’t just abandon it.”

“So… what are you saying?” there was audible fear in his voice now.

“I spent so much time in your world. Maybe it’s time for you to spend some time in mine.” She smiled at him.

“Everything is so strange here. You think I can live with you in this world?”

“Well, maybe we’ll do things half and half.”

Now he smiled back.

“Half and half.”

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

[m-rphy]

Stochastics

Give this some love on my ao3 as well

Matteo pulled his laptop closer to himself and opened the next set of exercises. He let the air fizzle out through his lips before he read the problem aloud to David who sat opposite him on the other end of the bed, his notepad on his lap, his left leg stretched out towards Matteo.

“There are six red balls and four green balls in a container. Two balls are randomly selected. Calculate the probability of the following scenarios: 1) Both balls are green, and 2) No more than one ball is red.”

He sighed and looked over at David, who raised one eyebrow at him.

“What's the problem?”

“Urgh, stochastics,” Matteo grumbled, thinking that would be sufficient. But David's second eyebrow followed his other.

“Stochastics are literally the easiest field of mathematics, Matteo,” he replied half-mockingly.

“Yeah sure,” Matteo retorted with a scoff. “Geometry, that's the shit.”

David's eyebrows traveled yet a bit farther up his forehead, part of them disappearing behind the side-swept fringe that fell into his eyes.

“Hey, not everyone can be a genius at math like you!” Matteo spit back playfully, smirking. He saw how the corners of David's mouth stretched into a grin for a split second before he collected himself again.

“You won't get out of solving this problem by complimenting me, you know that, right?” David asked in return, which wiped the grin off of Matteo's face. Fuck. He had complimented him. He was toeing a line he had promised himself not to cross, but with every smile from David, that promise became harder and harder to keep, and the voice deep inside him that told him that David did reciprocate him feelings louder. He inhaled and exhaled noisily.

“Worth a shot.”

At this, David grinned back at Matteo, which caused his heart to flutter in his chest. He would never forget the first time he had seen this grin, back when they had ditched the Abistreich committee together to smoke weed. Maybe...

“Come on, let's solve this,” David then said and leaned over to turn the laptop around so that he could read the problem again himself. When he had done so, he asked, “So, how do you calculate this?”

Matteo licked his lips, trying to remember everything they had learned about stochastics and realized a lot of it had slipped his mind. He hated that his memory was like a sieve sometimes. But he was grateful he had something else to concentrate on than the thought of how beautiful David was when he looked over at him like this.

“Uh... tree diagram?” he tried, semi-confident that it was the right answer.

“Uh-hu. How many branches?” David continued, twirling his pen between his fingers.

Matteo grimaced, knowing he was making a fool of himself right about now. “Two?”

“Is that a question?” David answered, one eyebrow raised yet again. Matteo had been intrigued by this side of David since the first time they had met, this deadpan, matter-of-fact behavior. At times it still caused him to be thrown off, but he got better every day at telling if it was actually extremely deep sarcasm (which almost nobody ever got) or not. This time, he knew it wasn't.

“No,” he simply replied thus. “Two.”

“Okay,” David said and drew two branches on his notepad and Matteo followed suit on his own notepad. “Next?”

Matteo thought for a moment before the answer came to him. “Label the branches. Should beeee... six tenths for the red ones and four tenths for the green ones.”

“You're not as stupid as you look,” David mocked him, which earned him a playful kick into the side of his thigh from Matteo. He was aware that he was dangerously close to crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. Everything between them was so easy. Natural. In a voice that almost convinced Matteo that he was being serious, David snapped, “Ow! What was that for?!”

“For being a smartass,” Matteo replied mischievously and, with a grin, gave David another kick. What he hadn't anticipated was that David would grab his leg, keeping it in place with a firm grip. Matteo looked at him with wide eyes and saw that David couldn't hide the grin that was spreading across his face.

Matteo was sure that he'd never get over this, that glint of mischief in David's eyes whenever the mood changed, the air suddenly full of chemistry. At times it felt to him like the space between them was charged with electricity, threatening to give him an electric shock as soon as their skin touched. He held David's stare for a second, two, three, before Matteo, without thinking twice about what he was about to do, lurched towards him.

“Hey!” David called, half of the word swallowed by the laugh that found its way from his throat to his lips, as Matteo curled his hands around his shoulders and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. The notepad fell to the floor with a rustling thud. “This is not was I came here to do!”

Now that they lay like this, Matteo realize what a stupid idea this had been. He was pretty sure they had never had this much physical contact before. “Well, it's what we're doing now,” he tried to reply in a smug sort of way to cover how much being this close actually affected him, but it came out softer than he had planned. He was thrown by how loud his heartbeat thumped in his own ears. David seemed to notice, or at least registered the change in his voice, and stopped struggling against Matteo's grip on his shoulders. Instead, he raised his left hand, causing Matteo's right hand to slip off his shoulder onto the mattress underneath. This brought Matteo's face a good ten centimeters closer to David's and both of them stilled, David's hand hanging in the air in front of Matteo's face. For a moment, neither of them moved, trying to figure out how to go on from here, before David continued to raise his hand and brushed the strand of hair that fell into Matteo's eyes aside. His fingertips brushed lightly across the skin on Matteo's temple and he held his breath. They stared at each other.

The tiny voice inside Matteo whispered to him and just now, with the sunshine painting golden streaks across his room and David moving his hand so that his thumb ran along his jaw, Matteo threw all caution overboard.

He leaned down and closed his eyes and kissed David.

This was so very, very, very different from kissing Sara. Or being kissed by her. With her, he had never been sure what to do and had done everything in his power to avoid getting kissed but this? Oh. Ohhh...

David's thumb rested lightly on Matteo's cheek, the rest of his fingers brushing across his buzzed hair in the nape of his neck, holding him close. God, he never knew kissing could do that. Their lips were so soft against each another, no heat, no rush, no urgency. Just the two of them caught up in the moment. This right here should've been his first kiss.

A moment later, Matteo pulled back, feeling like he had to catch his breath. Not that he was out of it, he just had a feeling that he'd be overwhelmed by emotions (something he didn't think was possible up until now) if he kept kissing David. He opened his eyes and found David already looking up at him, his eyelids heavy.

“I'm not dreaming, right? You just kissed me?” he whispered thunderstruck and Matteo could see his chest rising and falling heavily.

“No,” Matteo replied with a small smile. “You're not dreaming.”

“Good,” David said, a similar smile appearing on his face, and he brought his other hand up to Matteo's face as well, and pulled him close again.

God, he never wanted to stop kissing him.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 12 - Come Sunday

“I don’t like that melody,” I shook my head, looking over to Julian and another writer, Jamie, as we sat in one of the writing rooms at the label. The walls were a light beige, we were hidden away inside the big building--no windows showing the sky to help us keep track of time.

We’d been working on songs for three days straight--trying to find the right demo for this band that Julian was really trying to launch.

Jamie let out a sigh, it was the fourth melody I’d shot down in the last ten minutes. I strummed the same chord, looking over the words we’d scribbled on paper in front of us.

You said apologies don’t work

But I know it’s not just words that hurt

“What if we sped it up?” I asked, changing the strumming pattern to be a bit more upbeat. “I don’t know, something like this?”

Julian let his head bob from side to side, listening to me hum the words over the new tempo. “That’s not bad,” he said. “We could do a more descending melody over that.”

“That’ll be hard to synchronize all of the words over the chords,” Jamie pointed out, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin.

He was right--and in fact, I’d been too much of a stickler about every single suggestion that had been tossed into the room. All I knew was that whatever song was going to be the first I’d write with the label again had to be a good one.

It’d been three weeks since I came back from Jamaica. Three weeks since I wrote with a group of people that made it feel natural--and not that Julian and Jamie didn’t, it was more that something in me had been off since I’d left.

My brain went back to Harry, back to the studio, wondering what was happening and what they were all doing. Even here, sitting in the writing room that had no windows, I was thinking about what he thought and how he felt.

“Can we just scratch this one?” I asked, looking up to see both Julian and Jamie watching as I strummed the same three chords. Julian scrunched his nose and looked to Jamie--waiting for further input. “I have a better one, I have something that I started working on the other night.”

“Yeah--sure, okay,” Julian said, shifting in his seat and watching as I pulled my phone out from my bag on the floor. I pulled up the note, put the capo on the second fret, and strummed.

I’d like to think that you know this

But I’ve got a feeling you might not

Coulda sworn that you’d notice

Maybe it wasn’t all our fault

Cause now I know, there’s no choice but letting go

So I’ll just be with you tonight

I’ll just push all this aside

Cause I’ve got my heart in my hands

And I don’t have a plan how to hold it

Cause I knew this wouldn’t work

And we’d both end up hurt

Yeah I told ya

“It’s just the first half,” I shrugged, looking back up from the lyrics on the screen.

“That’s good, Maggie--like really good,” Jamie’s voice was quiet but sure. I looked up at him quickly, I didn’t expect the reaction to be that positive. I thought--if anything--the song would get us into a different groove. It was a different tempo, a different chord progression, different key entirely.

I wanted to give us something to just regroup, start fresh, think in a different way. “Oh,” I said, “really? I just had that chorus in my head last night and came up with the first verse.”

“Where would you go for a bridge in that?” Julian asked, leaning his arm on the table and resting his head in his hand.

“Same chords, I think, different melody.” I nodded confidently, it didn’t feel like the song that needed a huge turn around bridge. Julian nodded again and was quiet for a second--I suddenly felt like I’d just played my first demo to the first B-list producer who would listen.

Julian--who was probably one of the most reputable producers in London--was someone I’d known for so long. He wasn’t a new person or a scary producer that I’d never worked with. Yet for some reason, playing a song that was only mine felt terrifying.

I’d long gotten used to the idea of rejection. I mean, when you sell your creations for a living, you kind of have to. I got used to apologetic emails and short voicemails telling me maybe next time, kid, by the time I was 15. I’d sent so many demos to so many people that eventually, I just wanted someone to say I was good.

When I first started writing songs I’d play them alone in my bedroom. Then I played them for my parents. Then for my friends. And slowly I got more comfortable putting them out there and letting the world hear what was going on inside my head.

But, without fail, playing a song for a person in the business always felt somewhat daunting. It was the Monday morning anxiety you felt on your way into a difficult job. It was laying everything out there and hoping you don’t crash and burn.

I was more than comfortable throwing my ideas around. Words, melodies, I was even comfortable singing in front of people despite the fact that my talent was clearly in verse-crafting.

I’d brought in a few pieces of songs before--melodies, some phrases or even a verse or two, but this felt different. This song was fully formed--it just needed another verse and a bridge and it was finished. Julian seemed to think so too.

“Finish that, bring it back tomorrow.”

**

I was sat on my couch later that night, weeding through the words that were tangled in my head. I’d written two separate verses that could complete the song. I wrote a bridge that was fine. Nothing seemed to click though, at least until my phone buzzed on the couch beside me.

Harry’s name on the screen made me push my guitar off of my lap, abandoning it on the cushion beside me. I clawed for it quickly, my heart it in throat as I swiped it open to read whatever he’d said.

Was it an accident? Was he meaning to text a different Maggie he knew?

Can you talk?

I let my thumbs hover over the screen, completely unsure of how to respond to his vague and hopeful question. Should I be hopeful though? Was it fair to think that this was good? Perhaps he wanted to call me up to put one final nail in the coffin; let me know that he never wanted to speak to me again and was officially deleting my contact from his phone and any trace of me from his life. In all honesty, I wouldn’t blame him.

I did the time change quickly in my head. It was 2:09pm in Jamaica--if he was still there. I wondered where he was. At the studio? In a different country all together? He could be in Japan with the Queen and I would have no idea--something about that struck me as disheartening.

And how long did I wait? Should I respond quickly to show my remorse--or did I play some form of hard to get and make him wonder how I felt?

I decided to go with the former before I could overthink things too much, and typed an answer.

Sure.

My phone rang within seconds, reflecting the image on my ceiling on the screen. Not only did he want to talk, he wanted to see me.

I ran a hand over my hair once, trying to smooth it out. I wiped under my eyes to clear any smudged mascara before clicking the green button.

“Hi,” I said, feeling my face flush just looking at him. He was in a dark room somewhere--not Jamaica, the walls were too dark.

“Hi,” he said, his lips set in a straight line. He had some stubble on his chin and he looked a little tired.

“How are you?” I asked, pulling a leg up to lean back against the couch. My stomach was in knots--I simultaneously felt like I could cry and throw up, and I was probably sweating through my shirt.

“M’okay--how are you?” his words blended together a bit, his accent seemed stronger than usual. I wondered if he’d been home to see his family.

“I’m fine,” I said, shrugging slightly. I didn’t know if I should go into it--did I apologize again and tell him that I fucked up? Did he know already that I felt that way? Did it need saying?

“Listen--I uh, I just wanted to reach out to let you know that we’re doing an equal cut for everyone who wrote. Jeffrey offered to call, but I figured I’d just let you know myself. We settled on 25% broken up amongst the creative team. Writers, producers, mixers, engineers, the like.”

I nodded slowly--math wasn’t my strong suit, so I had no idea the actual percentage that would leave me with. I figured the other 25% would go to the admin side of things--the label, management, HR, publicists. And then, as per usual, Harry got around 50%.

And it was fine. I was used to it. There were often 40 people behind the scenes that got a small cut of the profit. Harry--or the band, whoever was the face of the project--got a the biggest chunk.

“So you’ll get 2.5% of every sale.”

I pulled myself back and out of the numbers. I looked at the screen again. It wasn’t terrible. That was about average. In fact, I think I made less during his days in the band. The album would definitely sell a couple hundred thousand copies. If there were any other royalties--radio plays, streaming, touring royalties, music video royalties--my income would be set for the next two years.

“Okay,” I said, offering another nod with small smile. “Harry, can we just talk for a second? I know you--”

“Maggie we’ve already talked,” he said with a sigh. He rubbed at his eyes and didn’t seem to look back at me.

I trailed off, licking my lips and waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I blinked a few times. “Okay--sure, yeah. I just, I don’t know.”

“Listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I nodded slowly, searching for words to change his mind. “Yeah, okay.”

And then he hung up.

**

It’d been a whole year since I’d stepped foot on U.S. soil, and being in Hopkins International Airport for the second time in a week felt overwhelming. I’d let Julian know that I needed some space, so a trip to Cleveland to see my parents was a given. Being on a different continent seemed to be enough distance between Harry and I that I could actually breathe.

After our business FaceTime call--which felt too professional for the nature of our previous relationship--I decided to figure out where he was. A quick google search and some social media scrolling let me know that he was, in fact, back in London. I had no idea the duration of his time in Jamaica or when he returned to the city I’d learned to call home, but I figured running into him would be the cherry on top of the shit-cake that 2016 had shaped up to be.

So, in true Margaret Mable O’Rourke fashion--according to my mother--I was running away. And now, after a week in my childhood bedroom wondering if the U.K. was really the place for me, I was headed to Nashville to see Chelsea in all of her stateside glory.

She’d begged and pleaded and I’d submitted three finished songs to Julian to make up for the time that I’d be gone--but timing was good. The duo we were working with--two girls from Manchester--wanted to record a few demos to prepare an EP of sorts for the label--letting the execs pick which song would be their first single.

When I took off for Ohio, I got a text that the song I’d played him and Jamie the other day had made it onto their mini portfolio. A week later and now I knew that my song had been chosen, and was now in a final stage of mastering for radio and streaming distribution. It was huge news--news that made my parents feel a little bit better about letting me go back to London after crying in their kitchen about my break up and the hiatus and the sudden shift that left me feeling lonely and incompetent.

So naturally, here in a bar with Chelsea in downtown Nashville kind of amped that feeling up. Because once again, it was extremely unclear to me why we were still here at 1:34am, with Chelsea giggling into the neck of her man of the night.

It was nice to see that she hadn’t changed a bit--not that it’d been so long since I’d seen her. A few months between us and Chelsea was still wearing her bright red lipstick and her hair was as blonde as ever. What had changed, though, was that I was now a miserable, pessimistic, and somewhat drunk girl in a bar in the U.S. who’d gone and fucked up a relationship that could have been something great (pun intended, I wrote that song with Harry and Julian in the Summer of 2012).

I held my drink up to my lips, letting my tongue find the straw as my eyes wandered around the room. Everywhere I looked, people seemed to be paired up. Groups of girls, groups of guys, couples sprinkled around the room with heads tilted together, laughing as the alcohol in their cups slowly disappeared.

Chelsea and her new friend, however, were much louder and much closer than anyone else in the room.

I was thankful, then, for the distraction of my phone vibrating in my back pocket. The name on my screen seemed to blur out the rest of the bar--the noise, the music, and the people seemed to dim and fade as my eyes focused in on the words.

Julian played me your song the other day, it’s really good. Congrats.

I read it three times. I stared at the punctuation and calculated the different options for the end of his sentence. Did he actually like it? Did he realize that the song was about him? Was he saying that to be nice? Was he throwing me a bone after having a too-professional conversation as if he hadn’t watched my face while he made me orgasm?

I sucked down the end of my drink and left Chelsea behind, heading for the bar to refill. More liquid courage for whatever type of response I settled on.

“Dirty Shirley, please,” I said, thankful for not having to explain what I meant. Sometimes, in London, the idea of a Shirley Temple struck people as odd. I’d gotten used to following the name with ‘sprite, grenadine, and vodka, please.’

The bartender handed me my drink with a smile, letting me disappear back into the crowd to have a moment by myself. I read the message again.

Julian played me your song the other day, it’s really good. Congrats.

Thanks for the feedback? Why did he play it for you? What did you really think? My options were endless, but none of them felt appropriate for the current lack of communication between us. So I sipped at my drink and read it again--hoping, maybe he didn’t pick up on the things that sounded eerily similar to us.

And then I read it again.

And again.

And then my drink was gone, and then my finger was pressing his name in my contact list and the phone was pressed to my ear as it rang.

“Hello?” his voice was quiet, which made me realize that it was early in the morning there--if that’s where he was.

“Are you in London?”

“No,” he said, “I’m in L.A. Where are you?”

My question surprised him--or maybe it was just the sound of my voice. “I’m in Nashville.”

“Why are you in Nashville?”

His curiosity sparked a feeling of power in me, I turned on my heel and headed for the door to find more quiet. “I’m visiting Chelsea.”

“Oh--how’s that?”

“Did you really like my song?” I changed the subject, wanting to get to the real conversation before he inevitably said he didn’t want to talk to me.

“I did,” he said confidently, his voice calm and sure. Why was he calm and sure? “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head aggressively, denying the fact that there was--undoubtedly--alcohol in my system. “I’m at a bar, though.” Tossing that detail in felt like a surefire way to ignite some jealousy.

“With Chelsea?” He asked, his voice a little higher pitched.

“And some other people,” I lied, watching as the door open and closed as new people filtered into the bar. The noise got louder and then quieted, “Chelsea’s friends from work.”

“How’s she like her new job?”

“She likes it,” I said, not wanting to get too sidetracked. “Why did Julian play you the song? When did you see him?”

“Last night--he’s here for work and I’m here for meetings. We had dinner. When did you write it?”

“A while ago,” I lied again. “It’s in my catalog.”

The lying would have felt more concerning had it not been for the Dirty Shirleys. The next words came out of my mouth without much thought. “You’re kind of a jerk, though.”

He let out a quiet laugh on the other end of the line. “I’m a jerk? Why’s that?”

I sighed, somewhat hesitant to continue my sentence. He was a jerk because when I spoke to him two weeks ago he didn’t even give me the time of day. Maggie with alcohol brain didn’t really care though, at least he was listening now. “Because you didn’t listen to me,” I said.

“Maggie, I--” he started to speak but I cut him off.

“You didn’t even let me explain and you just made your assumptions about what happened.”

“I don’t know if we should talk about this now, Maggie,” his voice seemed sad and quiet, less entertained that he was a few seconds earlier.

“Then when, Harry? When will you listen to me and let me actually get a chance to talk?”

He was quiet for a second, I shoved my hand in the pocket of the leather jacket I wore. “M’not sure it’s a good idea.”’

“Of course, Harry. Of course it’s not a good idea,” I said sarcastically.

He let out a sigh, “Maggie…”

“Harry,” I shot his name back, still sarcastic and still with an attitude.

“Let’s talk tomorrow. You can sleep this off and we can talk in the morning.”

“It is morning,” I told him matter-of-factly.

“In your time zone,” he corrected.

I let out a short laugh. “Okay, fuck you.” I was getting more angry with his reluctance to even acknowledge my feelings. Sure--he had the right to feel his own, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t have any and didn’t get to share them. This wasn’t all about him, but I guess that’s what he was used to.

“Alright Maggie, I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up before responding, the anger building in my chest until it made its way to my eyes, forming as tears that threatened to spill over. I stormed back into the bar, storming past people to find Chelsea--now sat in a booth--with another drink and a different guy.

“I’m going home,” I told her, my hands on my hips as I waited for a response. She stared up at me, my words taking a second to settle in her head and find meaning.

“What? Why?”

“It’s almost closing time anyway,” I defended, ignoring her question altogether. “I’m calling an Uber.”

“Okay, alright, fine,” she said, pulling her phone up to check it. The screen lit up, she had a few notifications, but she clicked it shut quickly. “Let’s go.”

She followed me outside, glued to her screen as we waited for our ride to pull up curbside. Plenty of happy and intoxicated people stumbled by us, drunk on the winter air and the Tennessee whiskey that they’d certainly consumed. But I wondered, for a second, if Harry was as sad as I was.

Did he care? Did he wonder how I felt or wish we hadn’t fallen apart? And maybe it was silly to wish that something that had barely taken flight hadn’t crashed and burned, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it wasn’t silly to hope that someone who brought a new meaning to my life felt the same way. But I didn’t know if I’d ever find out.

He said we’d talk later. I didn’t believe him.

**

I woke up the next morning on Chelsea’s couch. Her flat in Nashville was smaller than what she’d had in London--but she had the same blanket that I’d curl up with back home.

“Morning,” she smiled at me as I blinked a few times to clear my vision. She was stood across the living room, leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, clutching a cup of tea. The sun filtered in through her oversized windows, letting me know that it was probably closer to noon than I’d like for it to be.

“Hi,” I groaned, pushing myself up off of the couch. I rubbed at my eyes and cleared my throat, feeling a wave of nausea hit me. “How are you?”

“How are you is the real question,” she laughed and walked to come sit on the couch. I bent my legs at my knees, making room for her to sit on the opposite end.

“What do you mean?”

She gave me a sympathetic look, sipping her tea before responding. “You called Harry last night.”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” I said, laying back down and closing my eyes, hoping to avoid the embarrassment that was sure to be showing on my cheeks.

“You called him a jerk.”

I let out a groan--I’d forgotten that part--but then opened my eyes to furrow my brow at her. “How do you know all of this? Did I tell you?”

“No, he did.”

“He did?”

She nodded. “He texted me to make sure you were okay.”

“To make sure I was okay?” I asked somewhat incredulously as I stared up at the ceiling. “What does that even mean?” What I meant, what I thought, was: no, I wasn’t okay, and it was because he wouldn’t give me a chance to figure things out.

“You were drunk,” she shrugged.

“I know, but--why does he care? He won’t even listen to me.”

“He does care, Maggie, he just--” she trailed off, looking down at her tea.

“He what?” I sat up again, keeping my eyes on her as she carefully picked out her words. Was she defending him? How much did they actually talk?

“He doesn’t know what to do.”

“Well neither do I, Chelsea. He’s the one who won’t listen. I’m willing to talk.” I said all of this as if it were old news--but I realized that I hadn't really told her much. I filled her in on Jamaica and the break up and me coming home, but I’d yet to really tell her about the conversation about the royalties via FaceTime. I also hadn’t really told her how I felt about it.

“I know, Maggie.”

“What did he say last night?”

She shrugged and seemed to look around the room, wondering whether or not to answer my question.

“Let me read your texts,” I ordered, my eyes on her face to see her reaction. Why would she hide anything? She shouldn’t have to, so I should be able to read them.

She let out a sigh and stood from the couch to fetch her phone in her bedroom. When she returned, she handed it over and sat back down.

Hi Chelsea. Are you with Maggie?

Hey, yeah I am. Everything okay?

She just called me. How drunk is she?

I guess drunk enough to call you haha

Is she alright? She seemed mad at me.

She called me a jerk.

We’re going home, she’s fine, just tired and drunk.

Sorry she called you a jerk.

It’s fine, haha. I guess she just wants to talk.

She definitely wants to talk. Do you not want to?

Not sure yet.

Just wanted to make sure she’s okay, is all. Have a good night, sorry to bother. X

I let out a sigh and looked up at Chelsea--I couldn’t really be mad that she had spoken with him. I was the one--alcohol and all--that decided to give him a call and apparently, a piece of my mind.

She stared back at me, her eyes soft and understanding as I tried to search for words. But I couldn’t find any. Because the only words that played on a loop in my head were: you fucked up, Maggie.

AN: Hi all!!!! Your love for this story is seriously amazing and I super super appreciate it. This story has been tough to write at times because it’s different than what I’m used to tbh. But alas, thanks for reading. Feedback is always welcome!!!!! 

[turtle-steverogers]

Departed Chap 4 Pt. 1

This is a long chapter so it’s going in two parts YEET

Ship: Slow burn Sprace

Warnings: None for this chapter yet?? But pt. 2 oof

It was 10:30 am by the time Spot was fully awake the next morning. Race was still asleep, his arm draped lazily across Spot’s stomach. For the moment, Spot decided to ignore the warm feeling that their closeness gave him, he’d deal with that later. As of right now, he had to get ready for the class he was instructing at the Tae Kwon Do studio at 11:15. He allowed himself two more minutes to lazily drink in the morning sunlight that shone across his bed, then carefully extracted himself from Race’s embrace and grabbed his uniform off of his desk chair.

Once he was dressed, he got to work cooking some scrambled eggs to eat before he left. A loud groan sounded from his bedroom and a few moments later, Race was dragging himself into the kitchen.

“Mornin’, Champ,” Spot greeted, smirking at Race’s obviously hungover state.

“I never wanna even see eggnog ever again,” Race grumbled, slinking over to the medicine cabinet and pulling out some Advil, “Ya got any orange juice?”

“Yeah, in the fridge,” Spot said, taking the eggs off of the heat and transferring half to a plate, “Ya want any eggs?”

Race nodded and Spot pulled out another plate for him, dumping the second half of the eggs onto it. Race poured two glasses of the orange juice and the two of them ate in peace.

Spot rinsed off the dishes while Race scrolled through his phone.

“How long you at work for today?” Race asked.

“Just ‘til two, itsa short day cuz of winter break.”

“Cool. Al was wonderin’ if we wanted to go ice skating later, should I tell him we’re in?”

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“Aight, everyone’s meetin’ at five.”

“Okay, I gotta head out.,” Spot said, grabbing his keys off of the hook, “I’ll see ya ‘round two ish. Ya know where ta find me.”

“‘Kay, bye.”

XXX

By the time the last class rolled around, Spot was at his wits end. Winter break having just started for the kids meant that they were exceptionally unfocused today, especially with the promise of snow that weekend.

“Aight, class, Charyut!” Spot called to the orange and green belts he was teaching at the moment, “We’re just goin’ ta go through your combinations real fast. When we move past the orange belt combos, all orange belts start back at the first one while the green belts do theirs, got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ rang from the group and Spot silently thanked the gods that this was one of his more mature classes.

“Good. Turn to your left with a loud yell, joon bi!” The class did so and Spot began to lead them through their combinations, only having to stop every so often to help a lost kid catch up. Twenty minutes later, he bowed out the class and went to get the mop from the back. He glanced at the clock, which read 1:30, and sighed.

‘Thirty minutes left,’ he thought to himself, pulling out his phone to listen to music, ‘then I’m off for two weeks.’ He grimaced and got to work cleaning the studio.

“Spot, man, I can clean,” Spot pulled out his headphones to see Elmer, his fellow instructor, crossing the mat to join him, “You’ve cleaned the past two times, it’s my turn, anyway.”

“Ya sure?” Spot asked.

“Positive,” Elmer said, already reaching out to take the mop from Spot, “Head home, man, Happy Holidays.”

“You’re a blessin’, Elmer, seriously,” Spot smiled, “Thank ya, Happy Holidays.”

“‘Course, I’ll see ya ‘round man.”

Spot signed out and waved to Elmer once more before leaving and walking to his car. He got back to the apartment at exactly 1:50 and found Race playing Fortnite in the living room. His eyes flickered away from the screen for a split second to look at Spot before returning his focus solely to the game.

“You’re back, early.” He said, his tone distracted.

“Yeah, Elmer offered ta clean,” Spot said, chuckling lightly as Race stuck his tongue between his teeth to concentrate, “I was wonderin’ when ya’d invade my X-Box.”

“Oh hush up, I’m doin’ better than you apparently have been.”

“Whatever, I’ma shower,” Spot said, already tugging off his black belt.

“Yeah, please do, you smell like feet- even from here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Only in ya dreams, Spottie-boy.”

By the time Spot got out of the shower, Race was in the kitchen hovering over the stove.

“Dude, ya don’t gotta cook anythin’,” Spot said, lazily towelling off his still damp hair, “We still have leftover lasagna and meatballs.”

“I know, but I saw this recipe for mac and cheese grilled cheese and ta hell if m’not trying it.”

Spot laughed, “Aight, just don’t make yourself sick.”

Race just shrugged as he pulled every kind of cheese that Spot owned out of the fridge, “Can’t make me any sicker than that goddamned eggnog from last night.” He said, squinting at the expiration date on some parmesan.

“Oh yeah, speakin’ of last night,” Spot said, tossing the towel over his shoulder and sitting at the kitchen counter, “How much d’you remember?”

Race stopped pulling out ingredients for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought, “Not much after I had summa Al’s weed. Why? Did I do somethin’ stupid?”

Spot hesitated, “You brought up Melissa.”

Race’s shoulders flinched slightly and he asked in a clipped tone, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Spot bit his lip, trying to decide how to proceed through the conversation, “You, uh, told me about how she’d, uh, make you have sex-”

“Stop,” Race snapped, “Stop, I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Race, you shouldn’t hafta handle this on your own. I-”

“Sean,” Race said, his voice dangerously low, “Stop talking.”

Spot nodded, “Alright, sorry.”

Race stood still for a moment before hastily shutting off the stove, “I’m not hungry anymore.” With that, he stalked out of the room. A second later, Spot could hear the bathroom fan turn on.

Spot sighed and got to work putting away all the ingredients and pots that Race had pulled out. It was obvious that Race wasn’t handling this whole ordeal as well as he had let on. He wanted to help him sort through it, but he couldn’t if Race refused to talk about it.

‘Oh well,’ He thought to himself, ‘I’ll let him come to me when he’s ready.’ He glanced at the clock. It was 2:30, which meant that they had about two hours before they had to head out to meet the others at the ice rink.

Race was evidently still camping in the bathroom, so Spot decided to go check on him.

He knocked lightly at the door, “Racer? You good?”

The door opened and Race pushed past Spot, his eyes obviously bloodshot.

“Yeah,” He called over his shoulder,“I’ma take a nap, wake me up when we gotta go.”

Spot felt worry itch at the back of his neck, but it was clear that Race wanted to be left alone, “Alright, I’m gonna do some grocery shopping, you want anything in particular?”

“No.”

Taking that as his cue to leave Race alone, Spot grabbed his keys off his hook and exited the apartment.

Although Race hadn’t asked for anything, Spot decided to pick him up a box of Honey Bunches of Oats. He figured he may as well get Race’s favorite if he was going to stay there for a while.

When he got back, he found Race fast asleep on his air mattress. It was still about an hour until they had to leave, so after putting away the groceries, Spot flipped on the TV and pulled up Netflix. He had just finished an episode of Breaking Bad whe Race stirred from across the room.

“What time’s it?” He mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“4:30, we should leave in fifteen minutes if we wanna get there by five.”

“Okay, I’ma jus’ change and freshen up real fast.”

Spot turned off the TV as Race made his way to the bathroom and pulled himself off the couch to grab a jacket and thicker socks to wear to the ice rink. When he got to his room, he found Race digging through his duffel with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

Spot scoffed, “What’re ya doin’?”

Race looked up at Spot, a bit of toothpaste smudged on his chin. He reached up and plucked the toothbrush out of his mouth, “M’lookin’ for my hat and gloves, but I think I left it back at my-uh..other place.”

“Here, jus’ borrow some of mine,” Spot suggested, strolling over to his closet and picking a blue winter hat and matching gloves out of a bin. He crossed the room to Race and placed the hat on his head.

“There,” Spot smiled, “Looks cute on ya.”

Spot froze, realizing that he had just called Race cute, but Race just smiled around the toothbrush, which was back in his mouth, “Thanks.”

“Uh..no problem.” Spot said, watching as Race stood up and went to the bathroom to rinse. He shook his head lightly- what was getting into him? First they had cuddled through the night before and now he was calling Race cute? Did he even have a right to do that since Race and Melissa were technically still in a relationship? Though he wasn’t entirely sure it was a relationship anymore, but they had never explicitly broken up. Beyond that, since when did Spot think about Race that way? Since when did-

“Spottie-boy, ya good?” Race said, effectively breaking Spot out of his thoughts, “You have the same look on your face thatcha have when you’re tryna do math.”

Spot scrunched his nose, “M’good, ya ready to roll?”

Race nodded and the two of them put on their jackets, hats, and gloves before leaving the apartment and walking down to Spot’s car.

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable @aw-jus-let-em-spook @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @newsies-of-nyc @andthewoildwillknow

[pacman-tattoo]

Fish Out of Water [michael m. x reader] pt.2

this was demanded so i gotta do it lads

warnings: uh reader talks about said “tragic backstory” which involves bullying. it’s not recounted in detail but there’s just the mention of shit. other than that, everything should be fine.

      Michael was determined to unlock your tragic backstory. Luckily for him, you would sit with him and Jeremy at lunch, which definitely made talking to you easier, even if you were only sitting there to keep Wes from thinking you were “being a loner” again. But it was fine - Michael and Jeremy were both huge dorks and would go on and on about different dorky shit and sometimes Michael would made dumb references to memes.

    Not that it didn’t make you smile. It always did - just a little.

    You decided against the auditions - at least for this year. Maybe next year you’d try out for the play - but something told you that you had some serious competition, considering how many stories keep flying around about this weird incident and the kids who were getting interested in it just because of the shit that went down. When you asked Jeremy and Michael about it, they shot each other a quick glance before shrugging it off and saying it was some weird shit you shouldn’t worry about. Suspicious, but you had your secrets and they had theirs.

     “Why don’t you invite them over?” Wes said one day, sitting at the foot of your bed in your now-furnished room.

    You shrugged, “I dunno.”

    “You should. Mom and dad are worried, y’know.”

    “Why?”

     “At least talk about them.”

     Which led to you approaching them the next day and sitting there with words weighing you down. 

    “What’s up?” Michael said at one point, and you shrugged. “You alright?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Alright.”

     He and Jeremy resumed their conversation.

    “Do you two wanna come over?” You blurted out, immediately catching their attention.

     So they were coming over tomorrow. Wonderful.

    “Sorry my room’s kind of a mess, I meant to clean it before you two showed up-”

    “It’s fine,” Jeremy chirped, “it’s not half as bad as Michael’s room!”

    “Dude!” Michael protested, and you smiled - again, like with Michael’s dumb memes, it was only a little, but it was still a smile.

     “So, uh,” you said, rocking on your heels a little, “what do you two wanna do? I can probably steal Isaac’s games after he and Wes leave...” 

     So you did. It took a few minutes to find something the three of you could play, but you found Isaac’s copy of Little Big Planet and figured that it was worth a shot, since you’d only played it a few times before.

      It was adorable. Holy shit it was adorable. And that was without the thirty minutes of the three of you generally fucking around and designing your Sackpeople - which in itself was fun. And adorable. You made a mental note you’d have to play this more.

     “So,” Jeremy said, dragging out the ‘o’, “where are you from?”

      You rattled off your hometown and a few facts, “but uh, we moved here for a few reasons.”

     “Which are?” And there was Michael.

     “Not important,” you shrugged, “work, mainly.”

     “Ah.” He didn’t believe you - not completely.

     “What do you think of Middleborough?” Jeremy said - did he just jab Michael with his elbow?

      “It’s fine. Better than my old school,” you said - fuck you missed that jump ugh - before mulling over a few thoughts, “not as many assholes. Wes and Isaac seem to like it.”

     “Assholes?”

     “Yeah... just... assholes,” you spat.

     “Did they bother you?”

     “Me?” You said, “not really. No one really had a reason to single me out,” you tighten your grip on the controller, “I did get in a fight though.”

     “Wait wait waitwaitwait- you can’t just say that,” Michael said, “you got in a fight?”

     “Yeah.”

     “How? Why?”

     “...I don’t want to talk about it.”

      And that’s all that was said.

     “So who’s your friend?” Isaac said one day, sliding into your desk chair, “not Jeremy. The other one.”

      You looked up from your textbook, staring for at him for a moment - how did he know who Jeremy was?  - before shrugging it off. “Michael. He’s cool.”

     “He seems like a nerd.”

     “So do you.”

      He goes to retaliate before frowning, leaning back in your chair, “true, but still. I’ve heard rumors about your friends.”

     “What kind of rumors?”

     He glanced back to the door, rolling the chair slightly closer as he pushed it shut before looking back at you.

     “So I heard from this guy that Jeremy and all of his friends were doing drugs-”

     “Isaac, I don’t care about that-”

     “At the school play.” 

     You frowned a little, “maybe that’s a little stupid-”

     “AND,” he said, “one of them burned down a house.”

     “What the fuck?”

     “No idea why,” Isaac shrugged, “but I’d watch out if I were you.”

      And then he left, only to pop back in seconds later, “dinner’s ready, by the way.”

      Little shit.

      You sat in Michael’s bedroom for the first time since you’d started coming to his house. The first few times never really went farther than his living room - and whether that was his choice or for his own comfort or for yours, you weren’t sure - and eventually you ventured down to his basement which reeked of weed and jesus, Michael how do your parents not catch you? But this was the first time you sat in his room, legs crossed and a binder with your math homework sitting in your lap.

     “You stuck?” You looked up at his voice, confusion apparently etched into every feature, “you... haven’t answered anything in a while.”

     “Oh. No. Just... thinking.”

     “About?”

      You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Some shit Isaac told me. About Jeremy. Or at least, someone Jeremy knows?”

      He doesn’t speak. He just somewhat stares at you, thumb running along the edge of a plastic binder nervously. Then he slowly nods. “What did he say?” His voice is soft and slow and so low and you have to wonder what else have people been saying for him to act like this?

     “Just... that someone burned down a house? And no one knows why - he just told me to watch out and I... don’t think Jeremy would be the kind of person to just hang out with someone dangerous, so I just... thought... maybe you could explain something.”

     He took a deep breath. “Fine. But.” You know what he’s going to say. “You have to talk to me.” You simply nodded. It was going to come out sooner or later and you might as well let Michael think you’re a freak. “So... there were - are.. these things called SQUIPs and... all I know is that they’re this supercomputer thing.”

       You nodded, taking in every word he said. When he asked whether you were going to tell Isaac, you only shook your head. “We all have our secrets,” you muttered. And then you took a deep breath. “Isaac used to be bullied.”

     “What-”

      You continued on without a second thought, “when I said I wasn’t bullied, I lied. But Isaac got the worst of it - even though everyone knew Wes and knew that all three of us were related. They just... they called Isaac some shit and I was there so I got into a fight with the fuckers and I got detention and I guess that was the last straw because next thing I know, mom and dad said we’re moving.”

     Michael stared at you. “Just.. how?”

     “Apparently,” you began, “they had a job offer up here but were on the fence about it because of us. They...” You drifted off for a moment, “didn’t really know. At least, until the fight. Dad was pissed because the school wasn’t doing shit, and mom was appalled at the bullshit that was going on.”

      When Michael doesn’t speak, you continue on, “I think... she was upset at us, too. For not telling her. For not doing anything. And, uh...” You paused, “you look like one of the guys that gave Isaac shit. Or at least, you did. I didn’t really get a good look at you when I ran into you and just-”

     “Hey,” he stopped you, “I’m sorry-”

      Words spilled over, and your voice began to shake but you just kept on going because you’ve already said so damn much and you just can’t stop, “and I just... I regret it. I’m not proud, Michael,” you stared down at your hands, “but the fucker was asking for it - and andandand- Isaac...”

      Then Michael’s arms are around you and the sound of his plastic binder topping off the bed greeted you, and your digging your nails and gripping his jacket so damn tight as everything fell silent. And then it’s broken as you choke back a sob before burying your face in his jacket. You were breaking and crumbling and unraveling and the only thing that held you together was Michael.

      At some point it stopped being you and Michael and Jeremy and started being just you and Michael - not to say you didn’t still hang out with Jeremy (and, after a while, the rest of their friends, who apparently took to you quickly and accepted you into the group, albeit a little warily at first) still, since you did. But things changed. Sometimes your hand would brush past Michael’s for a split second and your heart would skip a beat, and sometimes his hand would find yours and he’d just run his thumb over your knuckles and it was soothing.

       3:00 A.M. blinded you one day as you woke up, Michael’s arm draped around you, your cheek pressing against his chest. Fuck. Your head was pounding and your mouth felt dry as fuck - damn it Michael, he could have warned you.

       You somehow managed to wiggle from Michael’s arm, running a hand through your hair, mumbling profanity as you stepped away, finding your phone. One click of the button was enough to blind you momentarily - enough for you to see a wall of texts from who you could only assume to be Wes or Isaac. You ignored it - you’d text them back soon. You’d wander upstairs first, maybe find some water because fuck, cotton mouth is terrible. You’d fight Michael later for not warning you.

       You found a bottle of water in a drawer in the fridge and stumble to the dining room, sitting down and trying to recollect your thoughts as you down half the bottle in an attempt to relieve the desert feeling. Wes. Fuck, did you text Wes?

       Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t Wes who texted you.

      Jeremy: [y/n] are you okay?

      Jeremy: you and michael just disappeared???

      Jeremy: oh.

      Jeremy: i stopped by to check on you and michael

      Jeremy: but uh.

      Jeremy: sorry, i just didn’t want to disturb you!!!

      Jeremy: [image]

      You stared at the image - four hours ago? - of you asleep on Michael, his arm draped over you as it had been when you first woke up.

       ... Would it be weird to save it and maybe set it as your background?

       ... Maybe.

       You ended up doing it anyway.

      “Hey,” Michael said, sliding into the seat next to you at the lunch table, setting down a slushie in front of you, “got you something.”

       You thanked him and nearly dove back into the conversation, only to find it had halted at Michael’s entrance, eyes pinned to you.

      “So,” Chloe finally broke the short silence, “whatcha got there?”

       Michael looked up, glanced to you and then realized she’d either been talking to you or him, “just... thought I’d get [y/n] their favorite.”

      “So you know their favorite?” 

      “Uh, yeah? He’s my friend,” you said after a long sip, only to hiss softly - “fuck.” Fucking brain freeze.

      “So what’s my favorite?” Rich asked, staring at Michael.

      “... Cherry?” 

       For the rest of lunch the group kept stealing glances at you and Michael, as if the two of you would just spontaneously start making out and announce your love to the whole cafeteria.

       Not that you wouldn’t mind the first part.

       3:00 A.M.

       Why were you always awake at three in the morning? At least this time you had a reason. The same question would worm it’s way into your thoughts:

       Were you in love with Michael Mell?

       Dear god, yes.

       Christine had a nice house. Everyone was asleep in the living room, so you escaped out to her back porch to think - and you may have left Michael lying on the floor.

       At least, you thought you did until you heard the scraping of the glass door, which caused a quick “sorry!” the moment you jumped. 

      “You alright?” He asked as he sat next to you. You didn’t look up, but you nodded. “You sure?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Good.”

       A pause. “Michael?”

      “Yeah?”

      “What are we?”

       He’s caught off guard, before he answered shakily, “... friends?”

       “Are we?”

       There’s another pause. “Are we?” He asked softly.

       “Fuck, Michael, I don’t know. I look at you and my heart fucking races and sometimes I look at you and I just-” You stopped, looking up at him, “fuck.”

       Michael was staring at you.

       Your voice shook and grew dangerously quiet, “can I kiss you?”

       He only stared.

      “Michael?”

       Nothing.

      “Fuck, sorry, just - forget it. Sorry-”

      “Yes.”

      You’re stunned for a moment. But you leaned forward and gently press your lips against his and for a moment, everything fell away. His hand is warm at your cheek and his lips and hair are softer than you’d ever imagined. At least for a moment, is him and you and nothing else mattered.