#it was like someone had written it in sharpie on my brain

[official-lucifers-child]

i went on a 3.5 hour walk and suddenly the phrase “i’m sorry you saw me growing and decided it wasn’t worth staying to see who i became” came to me so vividly and intensely that i had to find somewhere to sit so i wouldn’t collapse where i stood.

[christinesficrecs]

Hi, Christine! Thanks for all your help, you're wonderful ! I recently read Jurisdiction by elisera and i liked how Derek and Sheriff was bonding there. Can you suggest me more like that if possible? Thanks again!

Of course!! I love a good Sheriff fic. ❤️

Jurisdiction by elisera | 7K | Mature | Angst

John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.

But the temper is still there.

He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Cincinnati, or Anywhere With You by yodasyoyo | 7.1K

After Stiles joins the FBI, and the pack leave for college, Derek develops a close friendship with John Stilinski. But when he gets shot one night in the line of duty, Stiles comes rushing back to Beacon Hills, and his return reignites feelings Derek's spent a long time trying to ignore.

Emergency Contact by Leslie_Knope | 8.1K

He feels decently well-equipped to handle rogue werewolves, kanimas, fucking faeries, or whatever other supernatural-monster-of-the-week that the universe decides to throw at them. A plain old car accident is a completely different story.

Hotter Than Coffee by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 3K

“So, is there a reason my son’s phone number is on my coffee, and he wants me to call him?” The Sheriff questioned as he looked up over his glasses at Derek.

Derek’s eyes widened as he looked at the Sheriff. “What?”

The Sheriff slowly spun his coffee cup around on the desk, the coffee shop’s logo coming into view very slowly.

Derek’s eyes were glued onto the coffee cup, terrified at seeing what the Sheriff was asking. His heart stuttered when he saw the beginning of the words written in Sharpie.

Wolf in the House by JoeLawson | 33.4K

“What? It’s totally an improvement. He’s not scowling, or dating bad guys, or slinking around in unsanitary places. Still a bit paranoid, but what can you do. At least he’s a lot easier to get along with when you can buy his affections with ear rubs.”

“And you always wanted a dog,” Sheriff added wryly.

“And I always wanted a dog.”

All Stirred Up by jsea, marguerite_26 | 49.4K | Explicit

Derek's first duty as a new deputy is the early morning coffee run to The Leaky Carafe, and it's not long before he discovers that the quirky barista has a knack for making the perfect drink. Every time. Even before you order.

But is it intuition, luck or magic that has all Stiles' customers leaving happy?

Matchmaker, Please by LadyMerlin | 4.8K | Mature

When the Sheriff said that he wanted to set Stiles up with one of his deputies, Stiles thought he'd be meeting some chubby, doughnut-loving desk sergeant. He definitely wasn't expecting Officer Hale.

After significant efforts on the Sheriff's part, Stiles takes Officer Hale on their first date.

Use the Front Door for a Change by stileskolpath | 4K

“Hale, good. I thought I’d thought you’d be here.”

Derek nearly brained himself on the window sash as the elder Stilinski opened the door into Stiles’ bedroom, which was, Derek could tell, oddly bereft of Stiles.

He caught the faltered move before he could embarrass himself further, and for a brief, hesitant second debated making a run for it.

“You’re already almost there, son, just come on in.”

Big Days by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) | 9.6K

It’s an impulse really, inviting Derek to spend Thanksgiving with him and his dad. The Sheriff. Who once arrested him. It’ll be fine. Stiles is sure it’ll be fine.

Hale Construction by Mynuet | 8.3K

Derek gets a business and a home. Stiles gets his own Batman. The sheriff gets hash browns. The Stilinski household is expanded without anyone quite talking about it.

Shop Talk by aussiebee | 12.6K | Explicit

Deputy Derek meets Shopkeeper Stiles. Derek likes Stiles and Stiles likes Derek. There are puppies and flowers and an awesome Sheriff and an awesome Hale grandmother.

The Morning After by mikkimouse | 3.6K

After the night he'd had, John just wanted a quiet cup of coffee and some toast before his son woke up. This, he felt, was not too much to ask from the universe.

Apparently the universe disagreed, because John came downstairs at 7:30 in the goddamn morning to see a man he'd previously arrested for murder grinding coffee beans in his kitchen.

[bingsucks]

while working on the new chapter of picture perfect I'm mulling over a detail that would reference one of my other works and I think i'm going to get rid of it because it doesn't make any sense. still want to preserve it though, so here's the cut section. it's in reference to that Jeff/Rich fic I made like a year ago where Rich is a serial killer, and after writing this I realized it wouldn't make any sense for them to find what they did in the way that they did (avoiding spoilers at all cost lmao). here it is though!! it's like a director's cut but i'm just meta for myself

(they just stole a car, and are using it to get to canada.)

The car, used, was not completely cleaned of the previous owner’s belongings. There was nothing too incriminating, a bit of trash, an iPhone charger – and to the intrigue of both of them, A blank CD with ‘for Stephanie’ written in sharpie, with tiny shaky hearts around it. Once they had gathered as much gasoline as they could fit into the car, Abed climbed into the driver’s seat and Troy into the passenger. He turned the disc over his his hand.

“I think the last time someone made a mix-tape was the year 2000,” Abed said, slotting his thumb into the middle of the disc and taking it. He spun it around.

“You know your way around analog tech, huh?” Troy inquired, more a statement than a question.

Abed stopped spinning the disc. “This is digital.”

“But it’s –” Troy let his protest die before he could voice it. “What?”

“CDs are digital,” Abed stated. “Right?”

“Noooo,” Troy affirmed in disbelief – he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. “They can’t be. You have to connect them to something to work.”

“well, I –” Abed frowned in thought. “Are cars analog?”

The conversation was too much for him. The concept of analog and digital no longer made sense. Were they analog? Is AI the digital version of the analog human? Troy gripped his temples. “that’s wrinkling my brain, dawg. I’m gonna pop,” Troy mumbled.

Abed, yielding, put the CD into the player. Rather, he shoved it onto multiple parts before finding the actual opening for it. Abed started to drive, as the speakers crackled to life – not with music, but with a shaky intake of breath. Troy, intrigued, turned up the volume.

A teenage boy’s voice came through, nervous and cracking: “Stephanie, this is for you, girl. I love you.” A song began, a familiar one, but not one Troy could put a name to.

Abed made a sound with an emotion Troy could not place, somewhere between surprise and morbid delight. “This is an interesting choice for a first song,” he said. Troy hummed – a question. Abed looked back and forth between him and the road, smug. “I mean, I hope that they just have a mutual love for Pina Coladas, and not that they cheated on each other. Unless they were into that.”

The first line hit Troy like a truck: ‘I was tired of my lady.’ “Must’ve been a melody person,” Troy reasoned, though without doubt unsure in himself.

“I hope so, if not I feel bad for Stephanie.” Abed tapped on the wheel to the beat of the music.

(and after another conversation that is being KEPT, it is revealed that this is the ONLY song on this CD.)

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Pinned Fanfiction Post! Updated 9/25/24.

Psst… there's a way to support my writing now (and thank you Kraiva, Som, Charlie, Flamia, Bree, and more who encouraged me to do it).

Fandoms:

The Magnus Archives

Malevolent (Podcast)

Deviser (Podcast)

I'm bad at updating this, my apologies! It's all on AO3, folks.

Latest:

Malevolent

BIG BANG: BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives

"T" IS FOR TOMB - a bittersweet sad post-TMA one-shot AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives x Malevolent

CORRUPTED, chapter 24: Fogged. A Tim Stoker x The King in Yellow weird romance because I am strange. AO3 || Tumblr

Loads of Surrogate updates, as per usual. :) The last few:

Like Father - Faroe makes a dangerous decision

Message Received - Kayne bitching because we were too busy to write

Strained - the beginning of fallout from Faroe's choices.

Nightingale - Something with Arthur is very, very wrong.

FINISHED FICS:

(This needs some serious revision! For now, be sure to check my AO3 profile until I get this part cleaned up.)

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

AND EAT IT, TOO

The voice gets under his skin. Is it pleasing or terrifying? Inside his head or out? Is it even real, or is his still-human brain just cobbling monster-sounds into something he can comprehend? It’s impossible to get out of his head, whether literal or not. Doesn’t matter, though, because the answer Michael gives is a terrible one, and ends the same way: Gertrude could protect herself, Jon can’t, and he’s going to die for her sins.

Playlist available here.

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A THOUSAND WORDS

It’s coming, Jon. You know something is; something that itches, that nags, that hides just out of view. Our glorious future is coming.

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QUIT

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at. The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion. If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

Playlist available here.

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TULIPS IN SPRING

Martin crawled back into bed like he’d crawled through the burned-flesh hole in his heart, and knew he still loved Jon. Martin knew Jon loved him, too. Jon had thrown away godhood for him, like it hadn’t mattered. Maybe it hadn’t.Jon loved him, and that meant they could fix this.All Jon had to do was wake up.

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CRUCIBLE

Martin's been having dreams.He doesn't understand them. Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered. But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks. Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

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INSTANT NOODLES (crack fic)

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast. There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end. Well. There was no accounting for taste.

Note: This is nonsense. Full apologies to Jonny and Alex, who are 100% the creators of my favorite podcast, The Magnus Archives. This is a work of fiction, etc. and so forth. Take it as the joke it's meant to be. Written because I wanted Jonah to suffer.

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SHORT STORIES FOR TMA APPRECIATION WEEK, 2023

Just what it says on the tin. Silliness, angst, and crossovers incoming.

AO3

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THIS DARK THING THAT SLEEPS IN ME - Rusty Quill Big Bang 2023

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead. Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe. In a world where the End won and Jonah Magnus is its Heart, the cycle of death and rebirth is a given: no one lives past thirty, the Other Fears scramble for scraps, and any infant without an Alignment—called Uncertain—has until the age of ten to be claimed, or they are sacrificed. Jon, an Uncertain child, knows things he shouldn’t, has memories he shouldn’t, and also has a purpose: apparently, he’s been called to do what no Aligned person can do and stop Jonah. Sometimes, there is no happy ending, only the right one. Jonah broke the promises he made to take over the world, and Jon is here to make it right. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?” ― Sylvia Plath

AO3

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MAGNUS ARCHIVES x MALEVOLENT CROSSOVER

I PREFER MY HEART TO BE BROKEN

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know. He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough. Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god.

Playlist available here

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MALEVOLENT (PODCAST)

BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS - Malevolent Big Bang 2024

Serial killer Wallace Larson has been murdering children for his ritual, and the cops won't stop him. Private investigators Parker Yang and Arthur Lester choose to get involved... and everything goes wrong. Interrupting the ritual leaves Parker missing, Arthur in chains, and a piece of the King in Yellow in Arthur's head. But this piece knows who he is, and knows what he wants: to complete his ritual and rule Earth. Unfortunately, Arthur is incredibly stubborn, maudlin over his missing partner (stupid Parker Yang), and John, it turns out, is not the only piece of the King seeking power right now. It's a race against time, and John has a heavy handicap. With Larson in pursuit, a trail of murdered victims in their wake, and a host whose body is failing, John is determined to win at any cost... even if the cost includes Arthur Lester.

"It may not be much light but it beats the darkness" ~ Charles Bukowski, The Laughing Heart NOTE BEFORE READING This is part one of a Darkthur fic. There is violence and bodily harm. This fic was written in tandem with Kraiva's IT MAY NOT BE MUCH LIGHT, and is intended to be read together, though both are standalone. For the fullest experience, read the corresponding chapter from each fic. We'll be linking the connected chapters in the end notes of each. The incredible art in chapters two and eleven are by @wurmeon. The breathtaking 3D models in chapter six are from @iconiccookie.

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WRONG - spoilers for part 43

There is a thread where it all went wrong. Where Arthur, lost, has lost his hope. Where John makes a choice to teach Arthur what it means to be human.

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HERETIC- an Oscar one-shot:

What road remains for a man whose purpose abandoned him?

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Blood and Sand:

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back. It took a while before John Luke was sure, before he allowed the worry to slither into his bones, and take flavor and color away, and leave only trembling cold behind. Parker had never been quiet this long. Something had happened. John Luke Yang wants his brother back. When he learns about a wish—offered by a god, in exchange for winning some kind of game—he's willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of it. But the Dreamlands are not safe, and the King in Yellow has gone mad. The Games are not designed to be survived. Luke has fallen into deep and dangerous waters. Fortunately, he won't be swimming alone.

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They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks (Intermezzo spoilers):

Not much surprises Kayne anymore. A melting Arthur manages.

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All that Glitters (crack-fic one-shot):

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

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Fragile (Intermezzo spoilers):

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won. John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

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Double the Popcorn (Intermezzo spoilers):

You think there’s anyone I haven’t seen? Fucked around with? Followed? You think there isn’t a version of you I haven’t tweaked to be the very d-d-darkest you could be, with flesh in your fingernails and blood in your cheeks like a really fucked-up squirrel? I. Have tried. Them all. And pal… they don’t fucking work.

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God of Cowboys and Fools:

Well. No time like the present. “I am the King in Yellow, and you are now my slave,” I tell him, because that is the truth and we might as well get it done. He is a god, awakened in the crater of his birth. Somewhere out there is the Wizard he needs to ensure his misplaced immortality. Now, if only the Wizard would just do as he was told instead of fighting back, they could get on with the business of living forever.

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SACRAMENT - an Oscar one-shot

Arthur and John are long gone from Oscar's life, and whatever they did has left more than one wound in the world. Oscar's is obvious. Scratch's is not. Oscar certainly hadn't planned on encountering the malevolent spirit ever again, but now that he has, he faces a choice.

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BOYO

Warning: this is a dark fic. I liked me boyo’s anger, and he was just scuttered enough to make this work. To join me hitting the prop, and hitting too much. To not know when it was time to stop, and to follow my lead as we went far beyond. Wasn’t quite perfect. Didn’t have the rhythm yet. But I knew he’d get it; musical lad, or I’m a whaler, and I’d get him singing my tune. The fool died, and my boyo stood there, panting, blood everywhere, and hit the body again just because. Fuckin’ beautiful, that was to see.

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THE INCIDENT - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

Arthur and John are in Arkham, getting their burgeoning P.I. business off the ground. And then Kayne asks for a favor, and everything goes to hell.

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TRY, TRY AGAIN - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

The King in Yellow worked for a month to get Arthur to spill the information he wanted. Eventually, he got what he wanted through a made-up Bostonian, Adam Fry. What happened in the month before Arthur woke?

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CONFESSION

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away.

I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

An Oscar one-shot

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PEDANTIC

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind, with a rare genetic condition that can’t be fixed. The looming depression is bad. He can’t imagine a life where he can’t create anymore. Arthur nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new. Great, right? Now, if only this John Doe weren’t clearly hiding something so wild that not even PI Parker Yang can dig it out….

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PET

Arthur loses John. Hastur loses Arthur. Yellow does not deserve what happens here.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Angst warning Things happen when we age. Unavoidable things. Until death do we part.

AO3

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CLOUD CITY - MALEVOLENT BIG BANG 2023

The sun never rises in Cloud City. Owned by distant gods, the world creaks along in techno-magical paralysis, making Contracts with spirits, and limping along in isolated enclaves while monsters run wild in the Wastes. Five years ago, Arthur Lester, a private investigator, made a Contract with a Summon called Hastur. The deal? His soul in exchange for the identity of his daughter's murderer. Until the time Arthur's soul is ripe for harvesting, Hastur will give him power, and eventually must find Faroe's killer. If he doesn't, they both die, so failure is not an option. Hastur, however, is not a normal Summon... and it turns out he's come here and chosen Arthur in order to stop a threat that will destroy the entire universe if it succeeds. Unfortunately, humans aren't meant to channel power like Hastur's, and Arthur's body is beginning to break down. It's a race against time to solve Faroe's murder and stop the incoming threat before he simply drops dead.

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YELLOW CITY - A CONTINUATION OF CLOUD CITY

Arthur Lester has been taken by the King into the Dreamlands. Arthur Lester has gone quite mad. As promised, Arthur will suffer… but his presence will have a bigger effect on the future of Earth than anyone planned.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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THE BIRTHDAY SONG

Very much post-canon. Very much fluff. John has a body. Arthur has his sight. They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday. It's all fluff from here, folks.

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WORTH THE PRICE OF A BOTTLE OF POP

So, anybody want a crack-fic with Kayne, Arthur, and too much sugar even for an Outer God?

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FIVE TIMES JOHN WANTED TO SEE A MOVIE, AND ONE TIME KAYNE MADE IT SUCK

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

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SURROGATE

The beginning of the series, Surrogate: The Director's cut.

The King in Yellow has a plan. The first part works, and Arthur Lester is broken. The second half blows up in his face. John has gone mad, and Hastur’s adopted daughter is upset, but that’s not all. It turns out a certain Outer God wasn’t done watching that show, and when he arrives with director’s notes, not even the King in Yellow can refuse him.

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DEVISER (PODCAST)

DEVIL

Dad knew he'd failed with humans. Dad did not know he'd succeeded somewhere else.

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RED

Son likes painting. Son likes red.It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for. He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

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[eliesaidwhat]

red-handed

cross-posted on ao3

0. wedding bells

Marinette traces her fingers along one of the shelves, waiting patiently for his arrival.

The sound of her heels clicking against the tile floor echoes throughout the room with each slow step forward. Her gaze flits throughout the room, taking in each detail and observing everything carefully. Shelves stocked with records, books, and even a few cassettes—seemingly home made, with titles written in sharpie across the case.

She snorts. He is the worst rich boy ever, she thinks to herself. She pulls one of the books off the shelf, flipping through it idly, but she’s not paying attention to it. She probably couldn’t even recite the title if someone asked her to. She’s itching for his arrival, and to hear the important news he’d mentioned vaguely over text. He’s always been one for dramatics. The pronoun game, dropping subtle hints, but never enough to leave her satisfied. Stupid tease.

Marinette catches sight of herself in the mirror, and smiles at her appearance. She surely put work into it. A bodycon lace black dress, black Louboutin heels and her iconic Lady Dior bag. Crimson smeared across her lips and her favourite cat-eye shades sat on the top of her head. Black, red and a whole lot of leg is a killer combo-- especially on Marinette.

Finally, just as her patience started to wear thin, the office door opened. And in walked none other than Adrien Agreste.

A smile curls onto her lips. “Adrien,” she greets. “Nice of you to show up.”

He returns the smile with one of his own. “Marinette. Always a pleasure. I’d apologize for my lateness, but of course I had to build suspense. I can’t just give myself away like that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ah, of course. How stupid of me to believe that you might want to deliver the urgent, life-changing news quickly instead of dragging it out. My sincerest apologies,” she says flatly.

He chuckles at that, and takes a seat on the chair at his desk. She follows him, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Patience is a virtue, Marinette.”

Her eyes sharpen. “Mm. Yes. I don’t have many of those left. Now, out with it.”

Adrien plants his elbows on the desk, his hands folding together as he leans closer to her. “Lila Rossi is getting married.”

Her blue eyes narrow to slits. “That is the earth-shattering news? Why do I care in the slightest what Lila fucking Rossi is doing with her life? I only pity the poor man she trapped.”

“That’s because I didn’t get to the good part.” He reaches into his desk and pulls out a white and gold envelope with his name carefully written in calligraphy. He sets it down on the desk. “You know Lila Rossi. She’s always been one for the illusion of luxury and glamour and being adored. Even if she has to buy it, or fake it.”

She lifts a brow. “What are you getting at? Why are you telling me things I already know?”

His lips curl into the cat grin she hasn’t seen on him in a while. The kind he gets when he schemes. More importantly, the kind he gets when he knows she’s scheming. When he knows that the wheels in her head start turning and she comes up with the elaborate plans that he follows her to the ends of the earth for.

“Because she invited your entire graduating class. She even invited me.”

The gears in her brain did, in fact, start turning. Her back straightens almost instinctively. Her lips part. Her eyes widen.

Her entire… graduating class… in one place.

Marinette’s eyes narrow on Adrien. “You got an invite? You weren’t in our graduating class. You never attended Francois Dupont. Why would she invite you?”

“You know she was a model for my father’s brand.” Adrien’s lips curl up into a self-satisfied smile, and he leans closer to her. She peeks at him through her lashes. “Well, she had a bit of a crush on me, but I rejected her. So, I guess this is her way of throwing her happy marriage in my face so I can fall to my knees and beg her to pick me instead.”

She snorts. “Of course she would. She has to be the most delusional bitch I have ever encountered.”

“But this time, my lady, it actually works in our favour.” He takes his hand in hers and presses a kiss to the back of it. “She doesn’t even know what she walked into by inviting me.”

She remembers the crushing weight of dirt piled on her chest, and the feeling of it scraping against the walls of her lungs. She remembers pulling her out too late. Marinette remembers dragging her to the nearest road, crying for anyone to help them. To save her.

But, it was far too late.

And now, everyone will pay for it.

“No,” her red lips form a small smile. “She doesn’t.”

next

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

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I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[corpsedaydream]

point of view

corpse husband x reader

word count: 2.4k

_______________________________

pov

Growing up, you’d spent so many afternoon and nights in your childhood bedroom scribbling down notes into diaries. Some of it was reality, some of it was fantasy, but all of it was you. Once you were done, you would hide the journals all over your room, they were for your eyes only but your brother use to have a habit of finding them and reading them and teasing you if you happened to write about a boy you had a crush on.

Ironically, when you’d first started talking to Corpse, before he became your boyfriend, your brother had caught you sending him some heart emojis, and even as grown ups, he still teased you about it.

You weren’t surprised that hadn’t changed, but something that did change that did take you by surprise is how that hobby of writing brought you to where you were in your career.

You were on your way to your boyfriends place and in the passenger seat of your car was a CD. In a very early 2000s style, there was writing scribbled onto it done with a black sharpie and the letters read, ‘POV demo’. You could feel nervous butterflies gathering in your stomach as you neared closer and closer to Corpse’s place.

You’d had an incredible past few days. Writing always felt like something for fun, never something that would actually be a career prospect but when your YouTube videos of you sharing your original song ideas started to take off, people started to notice. Someone in particular being Ariana Grande. She’d fallen in love with your writing style and wanted to work with you to create a song for her next album, so of course you graciously and excitedly agreed.

It seemed you and Ariana were in similar phases of your life, both falling in love with someone who seemed so perfect for you. So the song came so easily for you, all you had to do was think of Corpse.

Your car came to a stop out the front of his place and you took in a few deep breaths as you unbuckled your seatbelt and picked up the CD from beside you. You’d written about Corpse before, but never something that was as confessional and honest as this song was.

Will he even like it? You thought to yourself and for a second you contemplated placing the CD under your car to run over it to destroy it. But you wanted him to hear it before it was released to the world. So with one last deep breath you shook your head to try to send the nervous thoughts to the back part of your brain as you exited your car with the disc that had the song on it in hand.

The time between knocking on his front door and him coming to open it had never felt this long before. You were chewing on your bottom lip and your forefinger was picking at the corner of your thumb nail as you anxiously waited. Then when the door opened, you spoke up before Corpse even had a chance to greet you. “I have a surprise for you!” You blurted out as you stepped inside and avoided bumping into him.

Corpse had a humoured yet confused expression as he watched you slip past him, usually you greeted each other with an exchange of touch, but you were barely looking at him right now and seemingly keeping your distance. “What-”

“No, please don’t say anything.” You held your hand up that wasn’t holding the CD as a signal to shoosh your boyfriend. “I have to show you right now before I change my mind.” You were visibly nervous, he could see it so clearly in you right now, so he listened and kept quiet. He wanted you to feel okay, but now you had spiked his curiosity, he had to know what the surprise was. “Can I put a disc in this?” You asked as you walked to a laptop that sat on his coffee table and sat down on the floor to place the CD beside it so you could inspect.

“A disc for what?” He was puzzled by the question.

“Just answer!” You didn’t mean to snap at him, this was supposed to be a good surprise, but god your heart was beating so fast and it felt like it was lodged in your throat. You were about to spill your heart out to him like you never had before and you were terrified of a potential rejection if he thought it was too much. Instead of questioning or arguing or snapping back at you, he neared you instead. Corpse could see your hands shaking a little and you were hunched in on yourself. Usually you were the confident one of the two of you so seeing you in this insecure state was something he wasn’t exactly used to. However, he had seen it before, but only a very few times. As confident and bright as you were, he’d been slowly learning your more deep seeded fears and vulnerabilities, so he was learning how to handle it when you were in a state like this.

“Hey,” He called for your attention as he crouched down beside you his voice ever so calm, one of his hands coming to land on the small of your back and his other grabbed hold of one of your hands. “Look at me.”  Finally, you did. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth you turned your head and found his gaze, your eyes flickered between his, you were still so nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah, I am. I’m just-” You cut yourself off and you broke away from his gaze.

“Just what?”

“Scared.”

At that answer, his hand on your back rounded around you further as he let go of your hand so he could instead shift closer to you again and use that hand to bring it to the side of your face, encouraging you to turn to him again. “Why are you scared?”

“I’ve really just got to show you this.” Was the only answer you could give him without spoiling what the surprise was.

“Do you want to?” How badly he wanted to know what the surprise was, but he wouldn’t push for it if it caused you to be more on edge.

“Yeah.” You answered him and he smiled before leaning in to kiss you.

“Go ahead then, baby.” Corpse told you after you broke apart, his hands falling from you as you scooted forward to be in front of the laptop and he leant back against the couch.

One last time, you looked back at him over your shoulder, you were more in front of him now, but he was still within an arms length. He nodded fervently at you, watching with interest as turned your attention back to the laptop and opened the device and inserted the disc. With a few clicks, the beginning of the song started to play and you dropped your vision to your hands that sat in your lap before the first lyrics were sung.

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20-20, babe

Hearing this, Corpse sucked in a quick breath, it was clicking in his mind what the surprise was.

Made of glass the way you see through me

He directed his gaze to the back of your head, how he wished he could see your face right now, but he knew you must have needed to be facing away from him right now to feel okay with doing this.

You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothing from you How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride

You spent so much time laughing and joking around, you were a very playful person and sometimes, you found it hard to get more serious. Corpse had been one of the only people to be able to see through this, to be able to reach a more exposed part of you. And as he listened to those lyrics, he recounted a time the two of you were wine drunk and and it was one of the first times you’d ever really opened up to him. But then right after, you’d attempted to laugh it off and he stopped you and made you feel okay with not having to seem like you were at 100% all the time, especially with him.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

The chorus played and Corpse couldn’t help himself, he leant forward slightly to make contact with your elbow. And even though nothing was said, you understood fully what he wanted, because you did too. Your hand left your lap and without turning your head towards him, you reached your arm behind you, he grabbed your hand once more, intertwining your fingers with his.

I'm gеtting used to receiving Still gеtting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared

These lyrics caused his hand to squeeze tighter around yours. It was only a few weeks ago the two of you had a pretty big fight, although it was only born out of fear and it ended in tears. When you were apologising, you’d told him you were so happy he was still with you and you’d also opened up to him about how with every past relationship, you never let yourself get in too deep, you always made a run for it before your heart was too in it. But you didn’t want that to happen with Corpse.

Learning to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learning to believe in what is mine

The chorus began to play again and Corpse tugged on your hand.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view

At first, you didn’t respond, and he really didn’t want to interrupt the song, but he wanted you to be in his arms so badly. “Come here.” He tugged again and this time, you finally moved. Your hands broke apart as you scooted back to sit beside him where he was still leaning against the couch and as soon as you were there, his arms came around you, pulling you in so close.

I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

Your heart was beating so hard and your cheeks were flushed as you nestled your head into his neck.

I couldn't believe it, or see it for myself Know I be impatient, but now I'm out here Falling, falling, frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

His arms were around you so tight and your emotions were running so high. Tears were pooling in your eyes as your hand grabbed ahold of his shirt, the material pulling taut as your hand tightened into a fist over the material.

I won't keep you waiting All my baggage fading, safely And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

Corpse turned his head in order to be able to press his lips against your forehead as the chorus begun to play out one last time.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too

Just like earlier, one of his hands would come to cup around the side of your face, encouraging you to look at him again. With his aid, you’d move your head out from the hiding spot you’d found in the form of his neck.

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Corpse swiped his thumb across your cheeks upon seeing that a few tears had spilled over the edges of your eyelids, you were still keeping your eyesight down.

I wanna trust me, ooh The way that you trust me, baby

He’d dip his head then, still trying to connect eye contact. You’d glance up and much to your surprise, tears had begun to bubble in Corpse’s eyes too. You’d let out the softest gasp and your hand would lift to grab a hold of his wrist of his hand that was still cradling the side of your face.

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

As the songs last lines were playing, the two of you moved your faces closer together to meet for a passionate kiss.

I'd love to see me from your point of view

The both of you poured every emotion you were currently feeling into the physical display of love and adoration. Deepening the kiss, you’d kneel up briefly so you could climb into his lap and sling your arms around his neck and his arm would tighten around you.

When you both parted to catch a breath, you’d have your foreheads resting against one another until you lift your head back up to look at Corpse properly.

“Did you like it?”

He smiled and shook his head in disbelief at your question, how could you not know that the answer already? “I loved it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“It’s everything I’ve always wanted to say to you.” Yet again, you moved your eyes away from his.

He could see that still, you were feeling vulnerable about sharing the song with him. “Baby,” And once again, he was using his hand against the side of your face to coax your eyesight back to his. “It was perfect.” He assured you and he would feel so pleased to finally see a smile appearing on your face. “Should we only communicate in songs now?” He’d joke and he’d feel even more delighted to hear you laugh.

“I love you.” You’d tell him.

“I love you, too.” He’d reply.

“No, like, I really fucking love you.”

“I get it, because I really fucking love you.”

The both of you would laugh again and when it subsided, you shared another kiss.

“Play the song again.”

[crew-of-the-detz]

Y’all thought I was joking?

Lets go baby coffee shop AU time.

I’m a new hire at the local coffee shop down the block from my appartment. I work the early morning shift and often open the shop with the manager. Usually that early its pretty dead with the exception of this one woman. I suppose I should call her my regular, as it’s always me that ends up serving her. She comes into the shop every day, orders a large cold brew with an extra shot and vanilla flavor, and leaves. Nothing remarkable about her really, and from the whole 5 words of dialouge I’ve gotten from her I learned she’s a marketing consultant for Detz Incorperated across the street. I suppose the real reason I always remember her is because of her face.

That face she has, it’s the grumpiest looking face I’ve seen in my entire life. 

Like, I’m not exagerating, it’s almost always pulled down taught into a slight frown. When it’s not, its curling a snear at somebody or something in annoyance. Also, everything about her is sharp. Her clothes, sharp black suit and slacks. The laptop bag she normally has with her, a sharp looking aramid bag with a sleek machine on the inside. Those aviators she always has on, even inside, a sharp silver colors that accentuates her sharp face. 

Yesterday, I saw her come in and the line was longer than usual for us that early in the morning. Her frown curled up into that snear and she got in the back of the line, patiently waiting. Now, her drink is pretty simple, so between steaming milk and grinding cardamom for someone elses drink I quickly poured some coldbrew and put a shot of vanilla in it. Eventually she came up to the till and ordered in her short, curt, manner. I grabbed the cold brew from the fridge behind me and set it on the counter in front of her.

Her face, it changed. 

It wasnt a snear, it wasnt a frown. It was something knew. It was the face you make when you get a pleasant surpise, her mouth opened ever so slightly shock with maybe even a grin. 

Her brain took a second to reboot and then that frown came back, but as she handed me the cash she said something she’d never said to me before. 

“Thank you.”

It was the most sincere thank you I’ve ever heard in my life, even though her tone of voice was the flattest tone I’ve ever heard in my life. 

So now I’m upping the ante, when I prepare the drink Im going to write a joke on it and see if I can’t change that grumpy face. I spent time after closing looking up cheesy business jokes on the internet, cause, to be honest, I have no idea what her sense of humor is like. I had no idea what any of it meant, but I wrote one down on a napkin and brought it to work with me this morning. 

I opened with the manager, the manager left to sort out some paperwork, and I waited. Sure enough, 5:45 AM rolled around and in she came. The store was completely empty aside from me and her, so I started to make the drink as she walked up to the till and just leaned against the counter waiting. I took the sharpie we used to write the drinks ingredients on the cups and wrote my little joke. I handed it to her and immediately started sweating as she gave me the cash.

Is the joke stupid? Is she gonna think im some sort of creep over stepping bounds? Oh god what if she stops coming back? What if-

“Pfffft”

I looked up and her hand was over her mouth, but her cheeks had... dimples?

The hand moved away and she had an honest to god smile on her face. She took off her shades and read it again, as if she was checking it was real.

“That’s a good one, mind if I tell it to my co-workers?”

Her voice had intonation, her face was in a smile, I was caught completely off guard.

“Uh, y-yeah! Thought you might like that one.”

She leaned over the counter and read my hand-written nametag. “So uh, Finnegan right? I was kind of in a rush last time, but I really wanted to thank you for making my drink before. Even though I was at the back, guess it pays that I come here every day huh?”

This was the most I’d ever heard from her, In the two months I’d worked here and her coming in every day for those two months. “Ah it’s nothin, helps your drink is super easy to make. Unlike some people who want like 50 things in their coffee and expect it to be done in 5 minutes.”

Her smile, got bigger?

“What can I say, I have simple tastes.” She gasped, like a small little muffled gasp to hide feeling. “Oh my god I just realized that I never told you my name,” she reached her hand across the counter, “I’m Elizabeth.”

That name, I’d heard it somewhere before. Then it hit me; the marketing consultant, her working at Detz Inc, the general manner she held herself. I’ve seen her in magazines at the doctors office, this woman is Elizabeth Korlin a marketing genius or something like that. She wrote the Peacock software for marketing and like revolutionized the game. 

I stood there dumbstruck for but a second, before I came back to reality. “Pleasure to meet you Elizabeth,” I shook her hand, “Say, aren’t you the one who wrote the software that like, changed the game for marketing?”

She blushed, I swear on my mother she blushed. It was faint, just a slight pop of dull red to her cheeks.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it changed the game. But yes I wrote some software that helps businesses with their marketing.” She picks up her coffee, “But, I really should get going. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Same place same time.”

As she opened the door to head out into the street she turned back to me, “With another joke, I trust?”

I smiled at her, “You got it.”

She left the shop and went out into street, the sunrise reflecting off her shades. Looks like I got some jokes to research. 

[phantom-curve]

For your prompts: 5. trepverter for Willex, please?

this one kind of got away from me, but hopefully it still mostly captures the essence of the prompt! and if not, it's at least a cute little fluffy Willex moment that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. set in an AU where the boys are alive, here is some flustered Alex ft. supportive Reggie and Luke.

trepverter - a witty response or comeback you think of only after it's too late to use (Rated T for swearing with a Trigger Warning for mentions of homophobic parents)

They say hindsight is 20/20 but Alex never really paid much attention to that until the day he found himself knocked flat on his back, elbows scratched and head pounding as if he had been hit by a freight train instead of an irresponsible skateboarder. It probably didn’t help that he had been in the middle of trying to calm himself down, all the signs of an impending anxiety attack mounting within his system until he had finally just put his feet to the pavement and started walking to get some of the overwhelming energy worked out of his system. He probably could have been more attentive, more aware of exactly where he was going and who was headed his direction, but he figured it would be fine on a random Wednesday morning in October when the tourists weren’t really around and most kids his age were in school.

Alex wasn’t in school because his parents had withdrawn tuition payments after he had finally worked up the courage to tell them he wouldn’t be bringing a nice girl home because he didn’t want to date any girls, in fact he would much prefer to date some boys, but the pressure of keeping his identity a secret hadn’t made that possible either so he was done hiding and he hoped they could accept that. Turns out they couldn’t accept that, or him, once he made it obvious he wasn’t going to go back in the closet or give any girl the chance to “change his mind”. As if that was even possible.

It hadn’t been a big blowout, more of a silent retreat, his parents completely withdrawing any and all support from his life over the course of the last few months. And apparently that included tuition, as Alex had discovered that morning when the school called to inform him they had finished completing his withdrawal forms, and they would be sad to see him go. Which had led him to the boardwalk, and then directly into the path of whatever hooligan that had crashed into him. Maybe if he had just been able to keep his mouth shut for 3 more years he wouldn’t be lying here, breathless and bruised, and still on the cusp of absolutely losing it.

Hindsight, Alex thought to himself as he stared up at the clear blue LA sky, can absolutely kiss my ass.

“Awh, man!” A voice above him whined. “You dinged my board!”

Alex toppled off of the anxiety ledge and straight into an ocean of lost control.

“Dinged your board? Dinged your board!? Dude, you ran me over!”

He punctuated his statement by leaping to his feet, which would have probably been a lot more threatening if he didn’t immediately stagger, hand held to his head as the world spun and his stomach rolled.

“Oh shit.”

The voice cursed quietly, and then Alex felt warm hands against his biceps, steadying him until everything slowly came back into focus. There was a boy standing in front of him, black cracked helmet perched on his head, soft brown eyes staring at him with a tinge of concern and remorse. When it was clear Alex was steady once more, he released his grip and offered an easy-going smile.

“You’re right, man, I totally pancaked you. My bad, are you okay?”

There was a weird feeling in Alex’s gut. Not the kind of sickening wave of nausea he had experienced when he first stood, but more of a fluttery feeling. His brain had quieted somewhat, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just look where you’re going next time.”

His voice came out soft and almost breathy, not at all the warning tone he had meant to use, and Alex could feel his cheeks warming slightly in embarrassment. The other boy’s smile grew. He reached up and unclipped his helmet, lifting it off and then tossing his head back as a cascade of long brown hair tumbled out. A few stray pieces fell to rest alongside his face and Alex felt his mouth fall open slightly. His stomach swooped and then dropped completely, like he had just plummeted from a rollercoaster and his mind went blissfully blank. Everything narrowed down to the absolutely beautiful boy standing in front of him, face awash in golden morning light, cheeks flushed from his exertions, dimples and white teeth on full display as he grinned yet again. Alex wasn’t sure he had ever met someone so blindingly attractive in his entire life, and then the boy winked, winked!, and lifted a hand out towards him.

“I’m Willie.”

It was the best name Alex had ever heard of. When their palms met, a spark shot up his arm and straight to his heart.

“Alex.”

Thank God he remembered how to talk, because he truly hadn’t known what to expect when he opened his mouth. Willie released his grip and Alex left his hand suspended for just a second before he pulled it back and shoved it into the pocket of his jean jacket.

“Nice to meet you, Alex. Listen, I really am sorry about knocking you over. Any chance I can make it up to you?”

It took Alex an uncomfortably long amount of time to process what Willie was asking. Long enough for him to panic and wonder if it was like a date or if it was like a pity thing or oh God what if Willie wasn’t even into guys and Alex was about to make this whole thing super weird and –

A chirping sound came from Willie’s pocket. His eyes flitted away from Alex’s to pull a phone out and check the screen. Alex felt a strange twist in his heart as he watched Willie’s easy smile fall only to be replaced by an annoyed grimace and eyeroll as he silenced the phone. Without skipping a beat, he thrust it back into his pocket and pulled out a sharpie instead. Alex barely had time to register how much he liked the way Willie’s hand felt on his forearm before the other boy was suddenly bent over it and there was a cool sensation sending goosebumps up his arm as the tip of the marker scratched across his skin. When Willie pulled back, that brilliant smile was back in place and his eyebrows were dancing so merrily Alex wanted nothing more than to watch them forever.

“I gotta go, but that’s my number. Text me sometime.”

And then, before Alex could work up the nerve to say anything, Willie was tossing his skateboard to the ground only to chase after it with a few bouncy steps before jumping onto the deck and quickly making his way down the boardwalk, away from Alex. He watched for longer than it was probably acceptable until Willie was nothing more than a speck in the distance. Only then did he look down to see the numbers sketched onto his forearm in orange ink.

(213) 555-3276 Willie<3

It was the heart that did him in. That heart had to mean something, right? It was intentional. Willie had written his name with a heart. Alex wasn’t making that up, it was inked onto his own arm! He studied it as he sat on the beach, mind silently replaying every single second of his short interaction with Willie over and over again while different groups of people came and went around him. There had to be a reason for the heart. Alex fiddled with the braided rainbow bracelet on his wrist, the motion familiar and soothing. Had Willie noticed it when he grabbed Alex’s arm to write his number on? Was the heart some kind of sign?

Alex let out a groan and fell back against the sand, the texture scratchy against the back of his head where a slight throbbing still persisted. Another silent reminder of his morning encounter. He wished he had thought to say something when Willie had asked him about making it up to him. Wished he hadn’t panicked or let his stupid brain go into overdrive worrying about what might happen for so long that nothing ended up happening. If he could go back, he would have told Willie, yeah, he could make it up to him. Maybe take him out to coffee or dinner and a movie or ya know, just any kind of date in general? But Alex wasn’t that smooth, and he wasn’t quite that confident yet. And now all he had was a number in orange ink and a name with a heart and absolutely no answers to the millions of questions crowding his brain.

He let out a deep sigh and sat up again, before finally climbing to his feet. It wouldn’t do to sit and worry, even if that was kind of his specialty. Luke had a girlfriend now. And Julie was incredible, and Luke was a disaster, so obviously the guy had to have some kind of game. Alex couldn’t quite believe it, but maybe he could give him an idea of what to do in this situation. Alex turned his feet towards the apartment the boys had been sharing since Luke turned 18 and left his parents’ house for good and started the long walk back to their shared home.

Luckily, both Luke and Reggie were home, which meant Alex had two sounding boards for his word vomit as he paced in front of where they were sat on the couch. Reggie was kind of like a puppy in the sense that all he had to do was exist and people flocked to him, so he also had more experience than Alex did when it came to figuring out someone’s true intentions after a first meeting. By the time he had finished giving the boys the run down, he was feeling like they might be able to put their collective braincell to use and figure out exactly what the best course of action would be here.

“Yeah, man, I got nothing.”

Alex groaned and Luke held up his hands defensively.

“Look, dude, just cause I’m dating Julie doesn’t mean I know how I pulled it off! I’m just hoping my luck holds out until I can convince her to marry me, okay?”

Reggie was nodding thoughtfully, so Alex held out hope that maybe he would have some words of wisdom.

“I mean, he sounds like he wanted to at least like...talk to you some more, right? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given you his number. And the heart is promising!”

Alex let it soak in for a second. An idea struck him out of nowhere.

“What if I just text him and tell him he can make it up to me by going on a date?”

“Bold moves, dude. I like it”

Of course, Luke liked it. It was a very Luke-inspired move. But Alex didn’t quite have the same guts as Luke. He didn’t think he could really pull it off.

“Ugh, no. My anxiety would skyrocket the second I sent the text. I just wanna know what the heart means!”

“Why don’t you ask him that then?”

Alex didn’t like how Reggie was the voice of reason here. That was supposed to be his job.

“Because if I ask him that he’ll know I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“You have been thinking about it all day.”

Alex finally reached his physical limit and stopped his pacing to fling his body onto the couch between Luke and Reggie, both boys catching different limbs and silently shifting to accompany his sudden presence.

“I don’t want him to know I’ve been thinking about it all day! That’s pathetic. Ugh, why didn’t I just say something in the moment!”

Reggie’s fingers were gentle against Alex’s scalp as he carded a hand through his hair reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Lex. You’ll think of something to say when the time is right. Release your worries to the wind and all that other junk, ya know? Just breathe.”

So, Alex breathed and tried to surrender his obsession into the ether. Reggie had been on a bit of a self-help kick lately, but honestly, it did help Alex more often than not, so he resolved to try and follow his best friend’s advice, even as his anxiety raged against the idea.

Turns out, the right time was exactly 11:43 pm when Alex suddenly awoke from a dead sleep where his dreams had been invaded by none other than Willie himself. He looked down at the number, the hastily scribbled name, and the accompanying heart bright against his pale skin even in the darkness of night and typed the message into his phone before he could think twice about it.

To: Willie<3 Considering you pancaked me, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me with a pancake breakfast. 9 am at Sandy’s Diner?

The responding message was almost instantaneous.

You’ve got yourself a date. Catch ya in the morning, pancake ;)

And for the second time that day, Willie wiped Alex’s mind completely blank, the word date playing on repeat until he fell asleep with his lips still curved into a smile, visions of a certain long-haired pretty boy dancing through his head.

[carnationcreation]

Hi! Can I please get an imagine where the reader is Bombay’s daughter and he’s never been around because of his job and that he left the readers mum years ago. But he comes back to coach her team, not knowing she plays and they argue, he pleads to get to know her etc.☺️😄basically the absentee!father x reader who wishes for a father but doesn’t know how to forgive him

TITLE: Forgiveness [Can you imagine?] (Bombay x daughter!reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Prompt/summary:  Bombay tries to reconnect with the daughter he walked out on 8 years ago. 

Word Count: 2,519

Authors note: You said argue? Alright here’s some angst. It feels so good to be writing for The Mighty Ducks again, this is one of my favorite movies so I’m so happy I got a request for it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every summer I used to get the same letter from my dad. It actually wasn’t even a letter. It was child support.

Every fall we used to stop by the diner in town to get milkshakes to celebrate the anniversary of him leaving us. It wasn’t that he was a terrible dad, she just knew she could do better for the both of us if he wasn’t around. After 8 years she still got the same order every time we went to the diner, and every year Mrs. Conway was still there taking our order.

Her son Charlie was always there too. Both of us played on the same hockey team and every winter we would drag our gear down to the pond to practice with our team.

That entire routine changed after one day.

“Goldburg you’re the goalie, the puck is supposed to hit you,” Charlie sighed as he skated towards us.

“Does that sound stupid to anyone else?” the goalie groaned.

I rolled my eyes at him before lining up another shot. 

After a few more shots Charlie tapped my shoulder, he looked in wonder as a car drove out onto the ice. We all wandered over and a man in a finely pressed suit stepped out. 

“Wait, that can’t be him-” I mumbled.

“We ain’t buying nothing man, I’m feeling generous today so I’ll let your sorry vanilla bootie outta here before we use your eyeballs as hockey pucks!” Jesse said.

“Thanks bro,” the man rolled his eyes before going to reach in to his jacket, “but I’m not going home ‘til I take care of business.”

The group slowly backed up. When the man pulled out a piece of paper and not a gun we all sighed in relief.

“District five pee-wee hockey team, I’m Gordon Bombay. Your new coach.”

The team laughed as I locked eyes with Charlie. He saw the absolute panic in my eyes. 

“Got the roster right here. Averman, Dave. Bombay, (Y/n). Conway, Charlie. ”

His face scrunched up as he got to mine. Confusion or being uncomfortable. Either way I couldn’t tell. Luckily no one seemed to notice the fact that I had the same last name as the coach.

“Here’s the long and the short of it. I hate hockey and I don’t like kids. I’m sure this will be a real bonding experience.  Maybe one day, one of you will even write a book about it in jail.”

Charlie nudged my shoulder, looking at me with a questioning look. I sighed, “He used to love hockey, but he really seems to hate kids. My mom said she heard that he got a DWI last week.”

Bombay ordered us to scrimmage. We all dove for the puck. Players tripped and fell over each other as we desperately tried to play. I finally got the puck and started to make a move towards the goal when Jesse (accidentally or not) hooked my ankle with his stick as he fell. Connie skated over quickly to help me up before taking off over to Bombay.

I rubbed my sore elbows as Charlie and I skated back over to the car that was still parked on the ice. Bombay brushed the team off by saying we need to scrimmage more and got back into the car.

“What a jerk,” Peter said. 

Eventually the team came to the amazing conclusion we should hijack the car. On Peters mark, we all jumped on the car, shook it, and climbed inside.

“We want a ride! We want a ride!” Connie began to chant as we all joined in.

“Take em for a spin, anything!” Bombay said, we all cheered as they started driving.

The fun didn’t last for long. Charlie’s mom soon appeared on the ice and made us all get out.

She furiously shouted, “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking putting that car on the ice? My son was in that car!”

“Lady lady relax,” Bombay said, “The ice is not gonna crack.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she said. Charlie and I slowly got out of the car and skated to the side to take off our skates.

Bombay sighed, “Gordon Bombay, the new hockey coach.”

Oh lord he was in for it now.

“Oh you’re the dead beat that married (Y/m/n). They send you down here to coach the team and you endanger their lives. You endangered your daughter's life!”

I hid my face with my hand as Bombay looked back at me. Oh god he knows now. 

Charlie’s mom eventually pulled us away and drove us home. I knew I’d be hearing about this from my mom later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By order of the state of Minnesota Bombay was at the game the next day. I’d made it my mission to avoid my “dad”. Charlie did a good job of keeping him away, asking him questions or distracting him. I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually but until then I was content with pretending I wasn’t his daughter. 

The game was a joke. We didn’t score any goals. Didn’t get a chance to defend ourselves as the Hawks beat us into the ground. 9-0. I left the game with bruises on my face and arms. My helmet was barely covering my face and my hockey pads were my dad’s old ones from the 80’s. One of the few things I stole from his house when we left. Charlie was extremely frustrated at the missed shot he had towards the end of the second period.

As the team sat arguing I was putting my gear up. 

“I thought we came here to play hockey. Do you guys think losing is funny?” Bombay yelled.

“It’s not like you coach us or anything. At least we tried,” Jesse said.

Bombay’s face went red with rage, “That was the sloppiest playing I’ve ever seen. Why the hell won’t you just listen to me?!”

I stood up, shouldering my bag, “Why the hell should we?”

The team followed me out of the box. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next game was a disaster. Bombay encouraged us to lie, cheat, and foul our way through the game. Bombay was furious when Charlie wouldn’t do his little act when he was cornered. The bruises on my face still hadn’t healed properly. 

The locker room was filled with groans as everyone agreed the game was pathetic.

“Charlie! When I tell you to do something, you do it! Got it?”

“You can’t make me cheat,” Charlie said walking out of the locker room.

Jessie and Terry’s dad stormed into the locker room, “LEt’s go boys. This is what I gave up my overtime pay for? To watch my kids take falls? You’re a pathetic excuse for a coach, and an even more pathetic father if you can let your daughter get beaten up like that.”

The team’s heads turned to me as he pointed in my direction. I let my head fall as I stormed out behind Jessie and Terry. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really thought I could keep avoiding him. I didn’t think he would come and try to find me. 

The next day at practice was a shock for everyone. We all got new uniforms, gear, and sticks. Everyone was pumped up during practice and we even got two new players.

“What changed?” I asked Charlie.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. He came and apologized last night.”

My blood boiled. He can apologize to another kid but not his own daughter who he practically abandoned. I warmed up to him as practice went on but in the back of my mind there was still that thought lingering. 

“(Y/n), you’re riding home with me,” Bombay told me as I packed up my stuff.

I looked at him confused, “But-”

“Your mom said it was okay.”

I silently followed him out to the car, the driver had rolled up the middle window so we could have some privacy.

“So…” he said, I stayed quiet still looking out the window, “Your mom told me you never quit hockey. Even after I…”

“Left?”

He sighed, “Yeah I guess it was like that wasn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look (Y/n), if I had known how much it had affected you I never would’ve stepped out that door. Your mom and I… we just weren’t good together.”

I scoffed, “No, your drinking side just didn’t line up with the fact mom wanted a decent husband.”

He went to speak again but quickly closed his mouth.

“I’ll just imagine me forgiving you. Maybe one day I can actually do it with meaning,” I sighed and went to pick my bag up as the driver pulled up to the curb. 

“(Y/n),” he said grabbing my arm, “I already talked to Charlie about this. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. I never should have asked you guys to cheat. And I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you guys. I’d do anything to try and get you to forgive me.”

“I’m just confused as to why your star player got an apology before your daughter did. I’ve been waiting for that for 8 years. If you truly wanted that from me you should’ve tried a long time ago.”

I slammed the car door as I got out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days I spent at Charlie’s house when my mom wasn’t home, hoping Bombay wouldn’t come track me down again. 

“(Y/n)?” Charlie said, “Someone left a package for you.”

I looked up from the comic books that were sprawled across Charlie’s bed in confusion as he sat the brown paper package down. My name was written across it in black sharpie.

Charlie shook his head, “Well, are you gonna open it?”

“I think I already know who it’s from.”

“(Y/n), he really wants to make it up to you. Just open it.”

I sighed and slowly ripped the paper, inside was a jersey. My favorite hockey team’s jersey.

“Woah,” I said.

Charlie scoffed, “Your dad sent you that? How’d he know your favorite team?”

“Cause it’s his favorite too. Charlie this is his vintage jersey.”

“Well,” he said, “Maybe you can start imagining that forgiveness part.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The Ducks? We’re the ducks? What brain dead jerk came up with that name,” Peter scoffed. 

“As a matter of fact,” Bombay said pulling a jersey out of the box, “I did. But I didn’t have a choice, we’re being sponsored. You’d rather be district 5? Some stupid number?”

“They don’t even have teeth,” Peter said.

“Neither do hockey players,” he said, we all giggled, “Have you ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It’s beautiful. Pretty awesome how they all stick together. The other animals are afraid, cause they know if they mess with one duck then they’ll get the whole flock.”

Bombay walked around the locker room giving his little speech. He smiled when he got to me, his eyes flicking down to see I was wearing the old jersey he had left for me. 

He whipped off his coat to reveal his Ducks jersey underneath as we all laughed, “I’m proud to be a duck, and I’d be proud to fly with any one of you.”

Charlie and I smiled at each other.

“So how about it? Who’s a duck?”

Silence followed as everyone looked around the room to see who would go first.

“I’ll be a duck,” our new player Fulton Reed said.

I smiled and placed my hockey stick on the bench, “I’ll join the flock.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said following suit, “me too.”

Soon enough the whole team joined in. Grabbing jerseys and cheering.

“We are the ducks!” Bombay shouted, “The Mighty Ducks!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few games were amazing. Our winning streak started to pick up and soon enough we were getting ready to face off against Cardinals. 

Charlie and I were named the dynamic duo. Our ability to make plays and take shots off of each other improved everyday. But that put a target on our back. 

It was the third quarter, we had to make one shot to pull us out of a tie and win. The crowd was going crazy as Charlie and I sped up the ice. Our team following behind us for backup. 

It was a stupid idea. 

Charlie went to take a shot as I saw a goon defender moving in for the body check. So I threw myself in between Charlie and the goon. My head snapped back against the glass as I heard the buzzer go off signaling a goal.

The team cheered. Charlie frantically raced over to me.

“(Y/n)?”

I could barely hear him, the ringing in my ears was so loud, “Where’s my dad?”

Charlie looked confused before shouting over to Bombay.

“(Y/n)? Can you hear me?” he said.

“Dad?” I started to cry as the pain caught up to me.

“Get her helmet off Charlie,” he said, I felt Charlie gently take it off and the coolness of the ice against the back of my head, “(Y/n) the paramedics are gonna get you off the ice okay?”

I felt myself being picked up off the ice and lifted onto a stretcher, the crowd clapped as I was rolled off the ice.

The ride to the hospital was short, Charlie’s mom called my mom's work to tell her what happened and she rushed over as Casey rode to the hospital with me.

“Where’s my dad?”

“He had to finish up the game, he’s gonna meet us there afterwards.”

Everything happened really fast when we got there, I wasn’t allowed to sleep even though I was super tired. 

“Look who’s here” Casey said. I turned to see Bombay and Charlie walking in.

“Woah,” I yelped as Charlie ran over to give me a hug.

“Are you crazy? You won’t be able to play at the next game!” 

I laughed, “At least we get a next game. It was worth it.”

He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. Bombay sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed. Casey and Charlie walked outside.

“Do you remember what happened after you took that hit?”

I paused trying to think back to earlier, “Um… not really.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in front of the team. You called me dad.”

I turned my head to look down at the sheets, “Oh…”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he laughed, “But the team is definitely going to have questions for you tomorrow.”

I smiled. 

“Alright, grab your stuff. The doctor said you can go, you just can’t practice or play in a game for a week.”

My eyes widened, “A week?!”

“Yes,” he said, “And I better not hear any complaints. I’ll make you run extra. Your moms waiting on us.”

“Where?”

“At the diner, she said something about milkshakes.”

I smiled, “We always get milkshakes after games.”

“Well, it’s on me tonight.”

I jumped up and gave him a hug before running out to grab Charlie. I think I can imagine that forgiveness thing now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx  @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse  @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @solophantomsmultis @drxgxnslxyer @schnapp-my-neck​

[floralguccistyles]

epilogue

...he probably loves you

After four months of dating Niall, our families and friends still couldn’t believe it. 

Apparently, Niall’s feelings had only been apparent to my sisters, because when we told our parents that we were dating, they had stared at us with supportive confusion. Niamh had mourned the loss of the five hundred dollars four our Jamaica trip, but she had thrown an arm around my shoulders and congratulated me. And then, in a surprising turn of events, had started crying when Patrick announced he couldn’t contain himself anymore and proposed to her shortly after Niall and I had made our announcement. 

Niall had just smiled his beautiful smile at me and pulled me closer into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’ve just realized!” His mom shouted in the middle of our movie. It was Greg’s pick tonight, so naturally he had chosen a Disney movie that Theo would actually be interested in. His wife had already dozed off to sleep, pregnant with number two and according to Greg, “unable to stay awake for more than five minutes.”

“Christ, Mum,” Greg complained, jumping from her loud exclamation.

“We can get Rose and Niall couples gifts for their birthdays!”

Niall raised his brow. I was curled up against him, my own eyes falling shut every couple of moments. The new job working for Eric’s brand was exhilarating and exciting, but it was a lot of work getting a start up business off the ground. Often, I would come home late and simply collapse on my couch while Niall took pity on me and made me dinner.

“Mum, our birthdays are five days away. Have you not gotten us anything yet?” he joked, his thumb running back and forth across my arm.

“You’ve always been hard to shop for,” his mum said simply, waving us off, her brain looking like it was going a million miles a minute with the new possibility of a couple’s present. “Not you though, Rose. You’re an angel to shop for.”

I grinned up at Niall. “I’m an angel,” I whispered.

His nose wrinkled. “Whatever.” But he quickly kissed my nose, ignoring Violet’s protest against PDA.

Violet was sitting on the floor by my feet, her nose buried in her phone as she waited on a text from the cute guy in her summer anatomy class she had a crush on. She had been hesitant to tell me about him, but three weeks ago, at one of our weekly-Thursday lunches, she confessed that he’d asked her to study with him. After hearing that, I had pushed and demanded she show me a picture and tell me his name.

He seemed nerdy and sweet. His name was Arjun, and he had helped her study for the final, where he stammered his way through the entirety of their study session before blurting out that he thought she was pretty and wanted to take her on a date.

They had been texting each other back and forth since. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of this,” she had told Lily and I while we gushed over how cute it was that she had a crush on someone, especially after her good friend started dating the last guy she’d had feelings for. 

Lily, on my other side, was leaning on the arm of the couch, her eyes slowly blinking in and out of sleep. She officially had her law degree and was going through what her coworkers lovingly called “Hell Year.” Her first year of being a lawyer and dealing with all the shitty cases was getting to her. However, she still managed to drag herself to our weekly lunches and had even mentioned that she had decided to go on a weekend getaway to London with Carmen, her coworker.

Violet caught me looking at her phone and shielded it from my view. I just playfully kicked her side.

After the movie, Niall drove us back to my apartment. It was nothing special, just a one bedroom, one bath. But it was mine. And while I still didn’t sleep all the way through the night except on the nights when Niall stayed over, I was working on it. I unlocked the door and let the both of us in, kicking off my shoes and flipping the light switch on.

Before I could take another step, Niall’s arms were around my waist and his mouth was on mine. I would never get tired of his kisses, of the way his hands would tease under the hem of my shirt and touch my heated skin. He always kissed with an eagerness, the kind of happiness that only someone who had been in love for a long time possessed. 

“It’s so hard to sit next to you at family functions,” he sighed out against my lips. I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Unlike my mother, I already got your birthday gift.”

“If you say my birthday gift is sex with you, I might actually have to hit you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That would be your birthday gift to me, Rosebud.” 

I knew he didn’t mean anything by it. We hadn’t taken that final leap into our physical relationship yet. He was cautious and I was still unsure it was something I was ready for after my incident with Kent. The group I had been attending had been a huge help and I got coffee with Wendi and Carlos (two sexual assault survivors I had met and befriended at group) occasionally. Still, there was a small part of me that wondered if I would ever truly get over it.

And I wondered if Niall resented that.

He saw the look on my face and his smile melted away. “I didn’t mean it like that, Rosebud. You know that,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I know,” I replied, “I know. I’m sorry I’m a piece of work.”

He shook his head, his arms encircling me and pulling me into his body. “You are not a piece of work. You’re the girl I love and will continue to love, no matter what boundaries you set. You know that. Nothing could make me love you less.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. Every time he told me he loved me, I got butterflies in my stomach and my lungs stopped working properly. “You staying over tonight?”

“If you want me here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I always want you here, Niall.” 

He kissed me again, his lips soft and gentle. “Mind if I shower really quick?”

“Go ahead. I’m gonna make some hot chocolate.”

I watched him walk up the stairs, a smile on my face when he turned back to wink at me. When I heard the shower start up in ym small bathroom, I turned towards my kitchen and grabbed two disposable coffee cups and a Sharpie. Niall liked his hot chocolate made with the little chocolate sticks I bought at the store, so I poured milk into the saucepan and heated it before depositing one of the little sticks inside. He was also a big baby who demanded the little marshmallows, so I grabbed the bag from my pantry and set them on the counter to add to his drink later.

My heart was pounding. I had been planning this for a while, but just tonight felt confident enough to do it. So I poured his hot chocolate into his cup with shaking hands and raised the Sharpie to the side of the cup, scribbling down the message. I still had pictures of all the notes he’d written me, including the one from this morning, when he had written “love you more than you know, Rosebud.”

And he did. He loved me more than I could ever comprehend. The four months being with him, he had never failed to show me just how much. He held me when I woke up with a nightmare, kissed me on the forehead when I was frustrated with work, held my hands when I got home from group. But I’d realized the things he’d done for me before, too. Like picking me up when Lily couldn’t, staying on the phone with me when I asked it of him, always making me laugh. 

Niall Horan truly loved me. More than I’d ever been loved.

And I needed him to know that his feelings were reciprocated.

I heard him before I saw him. He was loud as he walked over my hardwood floors, chattering on about some thought he had in the shower. I should have been a better girlfriend and listened properly, but my hands were still shaking and I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest and run away. I turned, catching sight of him in his comfy black sweats and a white tee with that signature grin on his face.

“I forgot my shampoo at my place, so I used yours and now I smell like a lovely lilac spring.”

Just like that, my nerves evaporated. I didn’t know how Niall did that, make me so sure of myself, but he did. This man loved me. And I loved him. He deserved to know how much and not have me chicken out at the last minute. 

I walked over to him, giving him a little sniff. “Very nice, very manly.”

“Nothing manlier than using my girl’s shampoo. Just shows how much I love her.”

“Is that what it does?” I asked playfully, reaching his cup out towards him. He took it in his hand, bringing it up to sip at it.

“Hey, you put in the little marshmallows this time,” he commented happily, taking another drink before he pulled the cup back. His large thumb covered my small writing, but he caught the tail of the ‘y’ and maneuvered his hand so he could read it. I saw the moment the words caught up with him, the moment he registered what I had written.

I love you more than you know.

“Rosebud…” His voice was delicate, like it could shatter in a single moment. “Do you mean it?”

In lieu of a response, I took the hot chocolate cup out of his hands and set in on the coffee table. I grasped his face in my hands, giving him a watery smile. “Thank you for being patient with me. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he breathed out. I felt honored and cherished when I saw the tears in his eyes just from my simple confession. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So much.”

The earth could have collapsed around us. The ground could have opened up and swallowed us whole. All that mattered was Niall as he surged forward and kissed me hungrily, his tongue delving into my mouth to tangle with mine. His hands were tightly wound in my hair, but didn’t pull or tug. He just held me there, like if he let me go I would dissipate. He’d never kissed me like this, but I’d never kissed him when he was a Niall who knew how much I loved him. And he’d never kissed the Rose that had finally stopped running and admitted her feelings to him.

“My birthday present to you feels shitty now.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to the surface. “This wasn’t your birthday gift.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “This was more. So much more.”

He kissed me again, his touch sure and unwavering. “Thanks for loving me, Rosebud,” he whispered, repeating my words from so many months ago. 

So I decided to repeat his back. “It’s the easiest thing in the world, Niall.”

~

Oh my god. Wildflower is over. I cannot believe this. This started as a random thought in my head one day because I needed a good friends to lovers but with a twist, and suddenly Rose was born. This is the first story I’ve finished on this blog and will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you to everyone for reading this little story and for all your support. I refuse to let go of Niall and Rose forever, so don’t be surprised if I write little drabbles for them, but I’m excited for what the future holds in terms of my writing. 

I give one big giant virtual hug to all of you. You don’t know how much you guys mean to me.

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Nandor the Relentless x Reader - WWDITS fanfic

Summary: Nandor saves you for later.

A/N: I just had a lot of feelings about this burly Ottoman warrior that needed an outlet. This is goofy as hell. The reader’s birthday is given as well as the background detail that she does roller derby. Also...I don’t want to commit to more parts, but as you can see it’s not complete soooo. There will be more.

Warnings: Female reader, Uh---vampiric blood drinking!, keeping humans as pets/snack food

---

“N-A-N-D-O-R...what is the date, today?” 

The vampire has long dark hair, equally dark soulful eyes and a rich, full beard. He’s peering down at you expectantly and it takes you a while to realize he’s waiting for an answer.

You clear your throat and swim through the fog in your brain to reply, “It’s...March 11th. ‘S my birthday…”

“Oh, really?” he grimaces uncomfortably and you idly observe that his fangs are still stained red with your blood. “That’s…unfortunate. Happy Birthday!”

He leans in and raises the Sharpie to your forehead. Is he writing his name and the date on you like you’re a take out container?

“Thanks…,” you murmur and then you’re floating beneath the surface again.

---

“Master, leftovers!” 

Someone is leading you by the hand into a candlelit room dominated by a large wooden coffin. You shake your head and look around you with bleary, confused eyes. How long have you slept? Or...is this a dream? The lid of the coffin opens suddenly and you squeak as a man sits up from inside.

“Leftovers?” Nandor whines and throws his Familiar a petulant scowl.

Guillermo holds up a hand and says with uncharacteristic confidence, “It’s my day off, remember? You can survive on leftovers and whatever you can scrounge up yourself tonight.”

“Fucking guy...forcing me to eat stale food,” Nandor curses under his breath as Guillermo flounces out of the room. 

You’re alone with...a vampire. The one who abducted you from roller derby practice and drank your blood last night. It’s coming back to you now. You watch him with wide, frightened eyes as he finally turns his focus on you. The intensity of his liquid gaze roots you to the spot even as your mind is pleading with you to flee.

“Alright, then. Put your neck in my mouth, little human,” he commands breezily, as if this is just one last formality for you and not the end of your mortal life.

“What?! N-no…,” you stammer. 

He clambers out of the coffin, coming to stand before you in all his glory. He’s massive. He towers over your short frame and his already broad shoulders are made more impressive by the long, ostentatious cape that flows down from them. Your eyes rake down his form of their own accord. He’d be handsome and totally your type if he weren’t currently trying to eat you. 

He sniffs the air with a look of distaste.

“Ugh, this is why I hate leftovers,” he whines and turns to address the far corner of the room, “They go stale. It’s the fear.”

You turn your attention to the corner and you’re startled to see an actual film crew just standing there. What the…

“Help me!” you implore, stepping in their direction. The vampire moves faster than your eyes can track. He’s just suddenly standing in your way.

“No, my little human. They are a documentary film crew. Just here to observe. I’m afraid they can’t intervene,” he explains, finally wrapping his arms around you and drawing you in closer. “But don’t worry, this will hardly hurt at all.”

And then he’s brushing your hair aside with an almost gentle stroke of his fingers and he’s lowering his mouth to your throat. There’s the briefest brush of soft lips over your skin and the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into your neck.

“Ow!” you complain, squirming in his grip. “You said it wouldn’t hurt!”

Nandor pulls back with a sheepish grin. His mouth is already painted red.

“I said ‘hardly’,” he corrects before plunging back into his feast.

You’re just starting to drift off into that foggy, wobbly, dreamy state when he releases his hold on your neck with one final lick of the wound. He rears back and looks at you with a ponderous expression on his bloodstained face.

“Even with the fear you are quite yummy... I think I’ll save you a bit longer after all…,” his voice is rich and hypnotic and--wait, he might actually be hypnotizing you, come to think of it.

Your brain is once again lagging and all you can utter is a soft, “Please…”

“That’s right, mortal,” he says in a saccharine tone, “I, Nandor the Relentless, have decided to show you mercy...for now.”

Your legs are like jelly. The only thing keeping you upright is Nandor’s arms. He hoists you up, cradling you to his chest and walking out the door.

My hero, you muse hysterically, half awake and half dreaming.

“Now, back to the cell, little mortal--”

NO!

“What!?” you screech wiggling in his arms until he drops you and you land in an ungraceful heap with a distinct pain in your backside. You look up at the ancient, powerful vampire standing over you and decide to beg, “Please don’t put me back in that cell. It’s horrible and cold and dank and--”

“Alright!” Nandor puts a stop to your rambling with a roll of his eyes. “Creepy jeepers! More trouble than you’re worth...”

He bends down and effortlessly lifts you back up into arms. He takes you into his room and settles you--of all places--inside the fur-lined coffin. A shiver runs down your spine but--you have to admit--it’s kind of cozy.

“Now, I am going hunting,” Nandor says. He leans down to catch your gaze, his eyes widening and his voice lowering an octave, coming out in a hypnotic drawl, “You will not attempt to escape from this house or from me. Sleep, mortal.”

You sleep.

---

“What the blazes! Nadja, darling, come here!” Laszlo calls from the doorway to Nandor’s crypt.

“Is it witches again?,” Nadja asks, following Laszlo into the room with a look of trepidation. “Laszlo I told you to get rid of that--Oh! A little mortal has snuck into Nandor’s crypt!”

The vampire couple stand over the open coffin, peering down at your prone form with twin looks of disgust.

“That’s what I thought, but look!” Laszlo reaches down and brushes your hair off your forehead to reveal the letters written in black permanent marker, Nandor - 11/3/20.

“Ew,” Nadja frowns, “he’s keeping food in his coffin?”

Laszlo nods with a look of outraged vindication, “And he calls me unhygienic!”

---

A/N: Good grief...please let me know if this is...anything. LOL.

[badatjokezz]

Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Fic Recs

i’ve been so hype about some Hq rarepairs lately now imma list some of my fav fanfics, mostly OiSuga mwehehe.... 

(probably gonna add some more in the future)

Oisuga (Oikawa x Sugawara)

1. Stuck in the Middle With You by overlymetaromantic

It's not the kind of blossoming relationship either of them would expect, but maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something good.

1. In which Suga and Oikawa run into each other on a late night convenience store run.

2. In which Suga and Oikawa inadvertently switch bags and end up with the other’s uniform.

3. In which Suga gives Oikawa the lecture he doesn't want but probably needs, and Oikawa might accidentally be a little in love.

4. In which Oikawa won't shut up about Suga, and Iwaizumi plays matchmaker just to make him stop.

5. In which there is not a date, and Suga likes spicy things much more than sweet.

6. In which Karasuno and Aobajousai hold training camps in the same neck of the woods, and the trip back proves to be more revealing than it probably should.

7. In which there might just be a future to this after all.

(Dis is so fluffy i might die)

2. moving on (growing up) by _helios (neocitz)

‘I’ll do it,’ Suga says, walking into their prep school and dropping his bag on the floor next to Oikawa. He shoves the melon bun and drink forward into Oikawa’s hands, and stands there looking down at him because he knows that he needs to not chicken out.

‘You’ll do what?’ Oikawa looks up through his glasses, eyes wide and confused as the other students stream in around them.

‘The fake dating thing, I’ll do it.’

‘Fuck. Yes.’ Oikawa says with a fist pump.

(It’s been AGES since i read Fake/Pretend Relationship fic, this one is goood)

3. how strange, to be remembered by venusintwelfthFandoms

"He is not formed of the type of dust that makes up stars. Suga is not the type of person that stays in the mind of one like Oikawa Tooru, ten years later. He is formed of the type of dust you shake off, the type that settles into the ground."

Ten years after Suga last steps off a high-school court, Oikawa recollects a "Mr. Refreshing" in a post-game interview, and Suga is left scrambling.

(Cute one-shot, Oikawa still remember Mr. Refreshing from Karasuno)

4. all the small things by Authoress for lemedy

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

(Single Dad! Oikawa, cuuutee ugh)

5. Win Some by kingdra (aroceu) for Icie

Tooru does not have a problem, its name is certainly not Sugawara Koushi, and he is not going to the Karasuno practices just to watch him. Regardless of whatever Iwa-chan says.

(High school romane~)

6. Even as bright as you are? by BKAKCANON

That night when he goes to sleep, he includes "the safety of fairies" on his prayers, making a promise to whoever was listening him, that he'd protect all the fairies and keep their secret safe forever.

[Where Oikawa meets Suga when they are kids and Oikawa believes Suga is secretly a fairy and decides he has to protect his secret all costs.]

(This is basically matches my headcanon)

7. getting to know you by oisugasuga

Suga feels like he’s back on the court then, his heart thudding hard in his ears… so hard he almost misses what Oikawa says. Unfortunately, though, he doesn’t.

"My, my. What a surprise," Oikawa Tooru says. And then… "Hello, Mr. Refreshing."

(Haven’t finished yet but DAMN I LOVE OIKAWA AND SUGA IN HERE, single dad! oikawa, and Suga babysitting oikawa’s kid, def slow burn. Imma follow this fic till death)

8. Dear Reader by hyirule

No one seems to read the paper anymore. But Oikawa likes to for the sports section. One day he finds himself reading a section called "Dear Reader" and finds a submission he can relate to.

Basically messages sent through a page on a newspaper brings to unlikely souls together, who maybe have more in common than they first thought.

(Cannon compliant, simple and... refreshing(?))

9. rest by shicchaan

Tooru looks at the sleeping person beside him as he waits for the lights change into green. The growing fringe of his husband started to cover his eyes but he can still see the beautiful birthmark under the silver haired's left eye.

(Established relationship, fluff fluff!!!)

10. long is the road (that leads me home) by ichweissnichtauch

He thinks about himself, deleting contacts from his phone and throwing coffee cups away without even looking at the string of numbers scrawled in Sharpie ink underneath, and he’s tired of hiding, tired of carefully treading the lines he’d drawn for himself all those years ago.

Just this once, Tooru wants— he thinks he wants to be brave.

Oikawa Tooru is not a stranger to wanting.

(like... 20% Oisuga but i like the way this story follows the Cannon till he get to Argentina)

11. It's Always Been About You by mintycarrots

Every time Tooru had envisioned meeting his soulmate, it was a confession of love, filled with tears of happiness and a lot of making out. It would be a faceless petite girl that would support Tooru in whatever he chose to pursue and would understand when Tooru prioritized volleyball over all else.

It was never a boy on the rival team.

(Soulmate AU)

12. a play in three acts by venusintwelfth

"The first time Sugawara Koushi sees Oikawa Tooru play, he thinks that if he wasn’t so set on volleyball, he’d do well in theater."

the first seijoh x karasuno match through the eyes of suga.

(Kinda poetic i guess, well written af)

13. colors by dazeful

Sugawara Koushi's colorful life as an archer.

(this is like the perfect oisuga one shot ive ever read)

___

IwaSuga (Iwaizumi x Sugawara)

1. And so the moon cried by iwriteinpenFandoms:

The hillocks are the domain of unearthly creatures. Creatures of rot and fog, of music and dance. Like ghosts in the night they travel without leaving footprints, they disappear in a flurry of long dresses and pale hair. Those who are fated to see them risk curses far worse than death. You may hear them, a giggle in the wind. You may smell them, the smell of the fog rolling in through the trees. You should pray you never see them. Iwaizumi Hajime is a simple man. He works a simple farm job and enjoys simple things. After one morning where he woke next to a perfect circle of death and only the memory of brown eyes and cold hands, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the forest. Will the tales of his childhood play out with him at the center or will he have to disregard all reason?

(Danish Folklore AU)

2. Cry Just A Little by DreadfulMind

Suga was whistling a tune to himself as he opened the door to the bathroom, so he didn't hear the muffled crying through the door. But he could hear it clearly once he was inside. He heard the sharp sob of someone trying to stop.

"Iwaizumi?" He asked, "are you sure you're alright?"

(Simple but c u t e)

3. Generations by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor), mozaikmage

Professional sports blogger Sugawara Koushi writes an article about a volleyball match that bears special meaning to him and his former kouhai: a showdown between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukigaoka Middle School, ten years after the teams faced off for the first time. He doesn't plan on capturing the attention of the world of sports journalism, and he certainly doesn't expect himself to end up having a thing for one of the coaches involved, one Iwaizumi Hajime.

(Time-Skip, I loved it)

___

KuroTsuki (Kuroo x Tsukishima)

1. Invictus by Chiru

Kuroo T. » So let me get this straight (gay?) Kuroo T. » You want me to pretend to be your perfect and fabulous boyfriend, so that your little freckled friend will stop trying to set you up with cute little highschool girls? Tsukishima Kei » yes Kuroo T. » Aha. Tsukishima Kei » you'll do it? Kuroo T. » I don't know. I missed the part where I get something out of it. Tsukishima Kei » you get to annoy me. Unfortunately Kuroo T. » Tempting, Tsukki, very tempting indeed.

(Fake/Pretend Relationship, some fluff, some angst, i read this in the middle of the night and cried, fortunately happy ending)

2. hold onto hope if you got it by nekolyssi

"Now, in the beginning of their third year of high school, the obnoxious hollering and incessant spirit of his teammates became normalcy to Kei. And now, normalcy is this. Weekly psych meetings. Pharmacy waiting rooms. Prescriptions. Refusal of prescriptions. More prescriptions."

(Not finished yet but yep prolly gonna put this one to one of those best haikyuu fics ive ever read. I wasnt so interested at first but i really like the idea of mental ilness etc, this is g o o d!!)

3. [KuroTsuki Fest Week 2017] Traces by Heartythrills 

Kuroo’s disappeared for a little over a week now, and suddenly a 4 year old who looks like him appears before Tsukishima’s apartment.

(Age regression, fluff)

4. I swear by xArtemisx

Like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there

"What are you doing here, Tetsu? It's cold." Kei asked softly. Tetsurou smiled. Hearing his name came out of Kei's lips is always music to his ears.

"Nothing. I just came to think that whatever memory we make, may it be happy or sad memories, the bright moon and the starry night sky is always there to be the witness. Did you notice?" The alpha answered and Kei nodded. He also noticed it.

"Yes, I did noticed it."

(I love agony and sad ending....)

5. Honeybee by ClosetGoblin

Tsukishima has trouble sleeping one night during a Third Gym Camping Trip. So, he takes his acoustic guitar and passes the time with some music, and gets a visitor. Maybe he doesn't mind Kuroo's voice as he does the screeching that Lev and Hinata call singing.

(Simple but sweet)

6. Say You Like Me by the_madame21

It's been three months. And Tsukishima Kei is going to see Kuroo Tetsurou.

(light angst and.. s m u t. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamic)

7. trying to get to you by mytsukkishine

Everything came crashing down on Kuroo when Kei had left him alone with nothing but the moon shining down on him.

Wherein, Kuroo was struggling to move on and decided that he wouldn't mind being with Kei again.

(sad beginning? yes. sad ending? y e s. you’re a masochist? come get your juice)

8. Please Hold by ThemooncatFandoms

Kei was expecting Kuroo to do one of two things; Send a text to the office saying that they will have to call back another time and continue what they started, or excuse himself from Kei to answer the call, which was most likely. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Kuroo does neither of those things.

(short but hot. what’s hotter than quiet sex?)

___

Ushijima x Oikawa

1. This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (poulerslashes)

Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

(It was funny for me reading oikawa/ushijima fic with that “you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa” joke at first but somehow i found this one... endearing :3, cute poor ushiwaka)

___

Atsumu x Nishinoya

1. All the things I love about Yuu by KilluCoulomb

Atsumu Miya is fixated in Nishinoya. The way the boy acts, talks, plays. He Carefully observes from afar, but he slowly warms up to the Libero. Friendship becomes more and more intimate. Atsumu realizes Nishinoya is not that simple guy he met three years ago. And he loves it.

(pro volleyball players AU)

2. i'll see you then by noyabeans (snowdrops)

Nishinoya Yuu and Miya Atsumu build a rivalry and something more.

“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.

Contains spoilers for the current manga arc, up to chapter 380.

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Letters To A Boy Who’ll Never Read Them

A/N: Kinda inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Anyone who knows me will see how much I projected on this but oh well. Also, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written! (Which is kinda sad I guess but oh well)

Summery: The letters to Peter were never supposed to leave that box 

Word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: I like half proof read this so probably some typos

Peter Parker was a boy you liked to admire from afar. You’ve gone to school with him for the past three years and were yet to feel the courage to talk to him. The first time you laid eyes on the curly haired boy, you were a goner. Everything about him was perfect to you, even if he was considered a nerd by most others. You liked to imagine that he felt the same towards you, but you were sure he never took a second to register your face among the hundreds at Midtown. 

And maybe you owed that to how perfectly average you were. Sure, you were fairly smart, but so was everyone else at the school. You were pretty enough, but it wasn’t something that set you apart from everyone else. You blended into a crowd like a chameleon on a green wall. 

Your one special talent, if it could even be called that, was your writing. Your teachers always commented on the eloquence of your essays and your friends liked to ask you to come up with witty captions from their Instagram posts. You were even on a competitive writing team.

 Writing was the one thing that set you apart, but it was something that went unnoticed by the majority. 

Unbeknownst to you, Peter Parker was very aware of your presence in a room. Your “average” beauty was more than average to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d known that he liked you, but he guessed that it started around the first time he read one of your essays. Your way with words was something he would never stop admiring. He was a science kid, through and through but he could see your passion for writing even in the simple essay you had to write about symbolism in Lord of the Flies. 

He wanted to talk to you and ask you just how you did it, but there was always something holding him back. You were either hanging out with your small group of friends and he didn’t want to interrupt or you were studying quietly in the library and he was sure you wanted to be alone. He never seemed to have the courage to talk to you and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

So he never approached you. In the three years he had known your face he never spoke a word to it. Every class that you had together never required a group project and assigned seats that were never next to each other. Sometimes, it felt like fate was keeping you apart. 

~

You kept a container under your bed. There wasn’t anything that special about it originally. You put some stickers on there when you were a little younger. There was no reason in particular that you did it, you just had some stickers and wanted to put them to use. You ended up sticking it under the bed eventually and left it there for a while. 

There was a day when you got sick of keeping your crush at bay. It wasn’t all that long after you “met” Peter. Who knew that staring at the back of someone’s head could make you like them so much? 

So you did the thing you knew best; write. 

You wrote him a letter. A letter you hoped he would never read because it was too embarrassing for him to see. 

Dear Peter, 

How does one tell you they love you? Perhaps I could tell you in this letter, but a letter alone could not capture the raging feelings I have for you. The butterflies I feel when you walk in a room, the sense of calmness I feel when I see you smile, the giddiness when you shoot your hand up to answer a question. Not a day goes by that I fear I won’t see that smile again. But that doesn’t come close to the fear that you’ll never see me. For I am little more than another face in the crowd. I’m average and you are anything but. I wish this letter could make you see me, but I doubt anything really can. I hope this is a letter you’ll never read, but fate has ways of changing the things we want. Maybe, some day, you can be mine. 

With love, 

                 The girl I wished you’d see

You read the letter once over and weren’t sure what to do with it. You obviously couldn’t give it to Peter but you didn’t want to get rid of it. 

Your eyes caught sight of the container under your bed and you grabbed it, folding the note and putting it in there. You placed the container back under the bed and worked on more homework, hoping that somehow, the letter would rid you of your feelings. 

Over time, the container accumulated more letters. From little notes to full length letters describing how you felt, they never left that container. You even wrote “Dear Peter” in sharpie on the side. There were things you hoped you could mention in the hallway as you passed him and things you could only hope he would never know. 

From

Dear Peter, 

Your smile makes me happier than One Direction. 

To

Dear Peter, 

Sometimes, I fear that you’ll realize that you’re too smart and kind for the people at Midtown to treat you like they do and that you’ll leave. Sometimes, I wish I could be the one to make it better. 

You never told anyone about the container. It was something you felt was too personal to share. Even if your friends knew all about your crush on Peter, you weren’t sure you trusted them with the things you wrote to him. 

~ 

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” you said to your friend, Becca, as you grabbed your pajamas and headed to the bathroom across the hallway. The two of you were having a sleepover and you didn’t want to be in jeans while you watched movies. 

Becca twisted the ring on her finger as she waited for you when it accidentally came out of her grasp and rolled under your bed. 

“Oops,” she said to herself as she kneeled on the ground to get it. She swiped her hand under the bed before she found it, curiosity striking when she felt the box it was resting against. She looked down and was met with the container, the “Dear Peter” in your handwriting facing her. 

“What’s this?” She pulled the container out enough to see the folded letters sitting in it. She pulled one out and read part of it.

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. 

The sounds of your footsteps interrupted her reading and she quickly put the letter back, shoving the container under your bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing her kneeling on the ground. 

“Oh, my ring dropped.” 

You smiled. “You need to stop dropping that thing, my gosh, Becca.” 

“I know, I know,” she chuckled. 

Later that night, when you were asleep, Becca took some of the letters and shoved them in her bag. There were tons of notes in there. Surely, you wouldn’t notice if five of them were gone. Maybe she could get these to Peter. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do behind you back, but she was sick of hearing you swoon over the boy. Just because you were oblivious to the yearning looks Peter gave didn’t mean she didn’t see them. 

The next Monday at school, Becca didn’t hang out at your locker for long, claiming that she needed to go to the bathroom before class. While you went to class early, she pushed the letters in through the crack of Peter’s locker. All she could do now is hope that Peter knew what to do next and that you wouldn’t kill her. 

~ 

“Dude, did you even read the chapter last night?” Peter asked Ned as they walked to his locker. 

“Of course not. Why do you think I’m asking you about it now?” 

Peter scoffed as he put the combination to his locker in. “What if everything I just old you wasn’t true?” 

“You would never-”

Ned was cut off by a few pieces of folded paper flying out of Peter’s locker. Peter picked one up, reading the short message written in small handwriting. 

Dear Peter, 

Your eyes are like the midnight sky. Dark and mysterious yet beautiful. 

“What is that?” Ned asked, reading it before Peter could move it out of eyesight. 

“I don’t know. Maybe someone’s putting notes in people’s lockers or something.” 

“Then why do you have four others in there?” Peter closed his locker, leaving the rest of the notes in there. 

“Aren’t you going to read them? What if Y/N finally confessed her love to you?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “She is not in love with me. And I’ll read them later.” 

Little did Peter know that Ned was right. As he read the notes later, he couldn’t help but wonder what led you to put such personal and deep notes in there. 

Dear Peter, 

It’s me again. I know I’ve written a million notes for you, but I don’t know what else to do. I am helplessly and completely head over heels for you. You and your cute sweaters, your genius brain, that little smile you get when you know all the answers to a test. I’ll probably be stuck writing letters to you ‘till the day I die, but oh well. You are the sun and I am a small blade of grass in the middle of a field. You are the ocean and I am one of the thousands of fish. You are you and I am just me. Maybe one day I’ll gain the courage to tell you that to your face, but until then, I remain the little fish in the big pond. 

Sincerely, 

                The little fish, 

                                      Y/N 

Dear Peter,

Yeah, you’re Peter Parker and I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N but what if you were Peter Pan and I was Wendy Darling? (That sucked, I’m sorry but not really)

Love, 

         Someone who wishes they were your darling

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been dreaming about you for years and all of a sudden you just threw some love letters in his locker? 

Of course, it could be fake. It was a little elaborate to be fake though. Ned couldn’t write like that and nobody else knew about his crush on you. Maybe it was an actual dream come true. 

~ 

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter called when he saw you standing at your locker the next day. He didn’t know what you were doing there since it was a lunch period but it didn’t matter. He walked towards you quickly, one of the letters subtly stuck to his side. 

You gave him a confused look. He knew who you were? Since when? 

“Hey, I uh . . . I got your letter.” 

“What letter? I never gave you a letter.” You closed your locker and turned to face him fully, arms crossed as you leaned onto it. 

“Well this letter says it’s from you. Unless there’s another Y/F/N Y/L/N in this school I don’t know about.” He held the letter up and your eyes widened. You snatched it out of his hands and scanned over the message. Yup, it was definitely yours. 

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. I keep telling myself that if I can confess these stupid feelings behind the pen, then I can do it in person too. But that day hasn’t come yet. I guess it’s like liquid courage but with ink. Ink courage? That’s weird. 

That wasn’t even the end of it. There was a lot more on the page, things that even if you were to tell him how you felt, you would never want him to know. And you were absolutely mortified. 

“How did you get this?” 

“I don’t know. I was in my locker the other day. There were like four others with it.” 

“Four?” You stared at him like you had just seen a ghost. 

“Yeah four. This was the deepest though.” He had a shy smile, but you couldn’t even look at him. 

“You were never supposed to see this.” You leaned your head on the locker and brought a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t know how it made it to you.” You’ve never told anyone about the box of letters. 

“Well-”

“I’m so sorry you had to read that, Peter. It must be so weird. You don’t even know me. I’m really really sorry. You were never supposed to read it.” 

You looked like you were about to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Thank goodness nobody else was around to witness it. 

“Hey, no. It’s okay. I thought it was really sweet.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he had an urge to comfort you somehow. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that some girl you’ve never talked to is writing love letters to you?” You finally let your hand fall and glanced up at him quickly, reverting your eyes to the ground when he made eye contact. 

“No, it’s really cute actually. Just because we’ve never talked doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.” He looked sincere, but that did little to relax fear and embarrassment swirling inside of you. 

“You know, Y/N, I’ve always thought you were cute too.”

Your head snapped up quickly, banging on the locker and causing you to grimace. 

“You okay?” He immediately stepped closer and took your head in his hands, checking to make sure you hadn’t really hurt yourself. 

Warmth spread through your body like a fire. The feeling of his hands was a little more comforting than you cared to admit. “Yeah, it’s just a locker. I’m a little tougher than that,” you laughed softly. 

“Just making sure.” He smiled sheepishly and pulled his hands away. 

You stood there, staring awkwardly staring at each other's shoes until you spoke up.  

“So can we agree to just forget about this and never speak of it again?”  

“Only if you will go on a date with me.” 

Your head shot up and you hit it on the locker again. Peter laughed and you sighed as you took a step away from it.

“I really need to stay away from lockers apparently.” Peter smiled a little wider and you swore your whole word was on fire. “But yeah, I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said shyly, scratching your neck as a surge of nerves pulsed through your body. Peter Parker actually just asked you on a date. 

“I’ll make sure to go somewhere without lockers.” 

“Oh, how considerate of you.” 

“We should probably get to lunch.” 

“I’ll walk you there.” 

“To the cafeteria?” 

“Where else? Unless you want me to follow two steps behind you like some creepy stalker.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I guess you can walk me.” 

“What a privilege.” 

“It is actually. You get to walk with the Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

“True, true.” You both turned and walked in the direction of the cafeteria, smiles on your faces. 

“Happen to have any more of those letters?”

“Oh you have no idea.” 

~

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[trashforgubler]

You Know I Love You

Word Count: .8k

Summary: You’re out of town and Spencer decides to have movie night with your daughter Bella. Unfortunately, they decide to watch Coraline, which leaves the six year old feeling rather unsettled

Extra Info: This movie used to absolutely terrify me when I was little, but is now honestly one of my all time favs. Its literally genius. I’m forever salty they took it off of Netflix earlier this year. Anyway, the song is called “You Know I Love You,” by Sakura Jurai, which is one of the songs of the movie’s soundtrack.

Requests: Open

masterpost

Movie night. The perfect way to bond with your children. All you need is a bowl of popcorn and an old couch and you’re on your way to forming happy memories right from the comfort of your very own living room.

At least, that’s what Spencer thought. It’s not like he was having a lot of them growing up, but with you out of town he figured what better way to wind down with his daughter than spending some time in front of the big screen? So, on a Friday night, Spencer popped some popcorn, but M&M’s in it for extra spice, and started flipping through the kids’ section of Netflix with Bella. They’d seen all the Disney movies already, and if he had to watch Despicable Me one more time he thought he might scream. No, they definitely needed to try something new, and that was when the movie “Coraline” showed up.

“Oooh, let’s watch that one!” His six year old daughter pointed enthusiastically at the screen, immediately drawn in by the characters bright blue hair and devious smile. Spencer shrugged and hit play, not bothering to watch the trailer or read reviews first. After all, it was a kid’s movie, what could go wrong?

By the time Spencer realized that this absolute horror film should definitely not be categorized as a kids movie, it was too late. Between the skin crawling idea of having your eyes ripped out and replaced with buttons, to being chased down a web by some spider mutant, it was clear that Spencer had made a grave error. Bella’s eyes were glued to the screen, to in shock to duck her head under the blanket. Her skin had become the same shade as the ghost kids that the Bedlam had stuffed in the mirror. Spencer promptly turned the movie off, leaving them in complete darkness.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t like that movie very much.”

After a few minutes of Spencer sitting in a silent panic, wondering what kind of nightmares his daughter was going to be dealing with for the next few weeks, he finally decided to pick her up and get her ready to sleep. After getting her pajamas on and making sure she brushed her teeth well, Spencer tucked her into bed and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Goodnight, lovebug.” He was about to leave and go about his night, when Bella said:

“What if she comes and gets me?”

Spencer’s heart sunk at the sound of her soft voice, completely terrified that the animated character was going to hurt her in the middle of the night. He walked back over before sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding his arms open. Bella promptly went and sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder with her arms wrapped tightly around his torso.

Spencer was a little lost on how to reason with a six-year-old, because she was the perfect age to firmly believe that there were monsters under her bed no matter what logic Spencer tried in the past. It wasn’t until you told him that six-year old’s require different methods to ease their fears that he was able to make any progress.

“The scary woman died at the end, remember? She got trapped when Coraline slammed the door on her. She can’t hurt you. Besides, I promise we don’t have any secret doors in our house.”

“But what if she comes though my closet?”

The gears in Spencer’s brain began to turn. Trying to put a six-year-old to bed was like trying to solve a case. Both required a lot of brain power trying to understand someone who made absolutely no sense to the rest of the world.

“Well, then your going to have to fight her like Coraline did in the movie.”

“How?”

Spencer left the room, and ten minutes later returned with a bottle of windex he had pulled out of the recycling. The label had been taken off and replaced with “Monster Repellent” written in Sharpie, and the bottle itself was full of water with a few drops of lavender oil. He handed to his daughter, and lead her around the room telling her to spray anywhere she thought the Bedlam could get in. Under her bed, the closet, the window, according to Bella, the Bedlam could shrink herself down to the size of a mouse and hide in her dresser drawers (which were then sprayed thoroughly). After all the crucial areas had been taken care of, Bella went back to her bed, where Spencer sprayed the lavender mixture on her, making her giggle.

“There, now you’re invincible. No monster will ever step foot in your room, and if they do, they will be met with the fiercest warrior of them all!”

Her laugh echoed in the room as Spencer kissed her one last time and pulled her blankets to her chin.

“I love you, Bella sleep tight.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Spencer shut off the light, smiling as he watched his daughter fall asleep.

[minghaocouture]

Fight Me?

Request: @yukine-smx​  Hi! Can you please write a fluff oneshot for Kanghyun from Onewe? Thank you 💕

Pairing: Kang Hyungu x Reader Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Non-Idol Au Warning: Hospitals, sickness WC: 1.2K

A/N: I’ve been want to use this prompt for ages! So when I got this request I figured I might as well use it for Hyungu! I could totally see him doing something like this. I hope you enjoy!

This sucked.

The beeping of your heart monitor echoed through the room. When you had come to the hospital after passing out at work, you had expected them to say "oh you're just overworking yourself! Go home and get some rest, drink fluids" all that crap. But nooooo, here you were laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed, and you felt terrible. It wasn't just because of the sickness, but because of your own thoughts. You were upset with yourself for getting sick during the busiest time of year, you had bills to pay and those bills would only get worse the longer you were in this hospital. 

Needless to say you were in quite a sour mood, well when you were awake at least. This was your second day in the hospital and you had spent quite a bit of time sleeping. When you weren't sleeping you were staring blankly up at the tv screen, barely paying attention to the reruns of Supernatural. 

The sound of the door opening distracted you from the current monster hunt playing out on the screen, and you watched one of your nurses, Hyungu, enter the room. He wasn't the most talkative nurse you'd ever had, especially not this weekend. The day nurse, Dongmyeong, he could practically talk your ear off, Hyungu though was a lot more soft spoken around you. Always making sure you were feeling alright and bringing you more water if you needed any. Though, you were a bit surprised to see him while the sun was still up.

Unfortunately for him, you were in a worse mood than normal that day. After all, you hadn't seemed to be getting any better and the little tube shoved in your nose to help you breathe was getting on your last nerve. So when he stepped closer and asked how you were doing you instantly responded with.

"Fight me." You weren't sure why that was your response, but it seemed like the proper thing to say. At least to your irritated and sick clouded brain. To your surprise, a small smile flashed across his face and he moved forward to adjust your pillows to help you get a little more comfortable.

"Maybe later." 

***

The next day was full of pills and boredom, you were coughing a lot more than you had been previously. So the doctors had tried to give you something for that, and it seemed to be working. The only issue was that it tasted absolutely terrible, and you had to take it three times a day until the coughing settled down. 

So come nine pm, in comes Hyungu once again. His bleached blonde hair framed his face nicely, and if you were being honest with yourself...he was pretty cute. The only thing that sucked was that he was here to give you more of the absolutely disgusting medicine, so you were less than happy to see him. 

Taking the disgusting liquid caused a new round of coughs to escape your throat, not from your sickness but from the taste of the nasty stuff. So once again spoke, doing your best to get the words out between your coughs.

"Fight me."

Just as he did yesterday, Hyungu smiled softly at you, helping you sit up more as you coughed. Once the fit had passed he handed you a fresh glass of water, watching as you slowly gulped it down. The liquid burning as it hits the irritated insides of your throat. Once you finished the glass, he took it back and refilled it before setting it on your dinner tray. 

"I won't fight you," he began. You felt your eyebrows furrow as you stared up at him. Now even more irritated with your sickened state. "because I know you would win." 

***

It had been almost a solid week in the hospital before you were let out, and you were certain that your bank account would regret this sickness for the next few decades. As your mother helped you pack up the things you had brought with you, you heard the door to your room open once more. Turning, you were surprised to see Hyungu entering with a...starbucks cup in his hand. 

His soft smile plastered onto his face once more, and you were grateful that now you at least looked like a normal human. Instead of the sick gremlin you had been for the past week. 

"I'm glad you're feeling better." He said, extending his hand out to pass the coffee to you. During your time in bed, you had mentioned how badly you had been craving your favorite coffee, and to your surprise, that was exactly what he had brought you. You were shocked that he had remembered something you had complained about in passing.

"I have to get back to my other patients now but, I hope you get home safe. Stay healthy." He was gone almost as quickly as he arrived.

"Well he was a sweet boy!" Your mother cooed, pulling your duffel bag over her shoulder as she had refused to let you carry the time. Saying that you had been in bed for so long that you needed to build up your strength again first. You tried to argue with her but she absolutely refused to listen. 

Taking another sip of your coffee, the two of you exited the room and made your way down to the lobby. Just as you were about to exit the building you glanced down at the cup, noticing something written in black sharpie on the little cardboard holder.

"Fight me? xxx-xxx-xxxx - Hyungu"

"Did....did I just seduce someone with drool and bad lungs??" You muttered to yourself staring at the cup in utter awe. 

***

"I hope you weren't waiting too long!" 

"No, I actually just got here myself." 

The lobby of the theater was almost empty, as it usually was at noon on Wednesdays. No one went to the movies that early, especially not during a week day! Well, no one but you and Hyungu that is. But that's how life worked when you were dating a graveyard shift nurse.

Taking his hand in yours, you dragged him behind you to the snack counter to get popcorn.

"Fight me to see who pays for the popcorn?" You questioned, raising a brow impishly at the taller male. He laughed at your proposition and shook his head.

"I would, but I know you'll win." He retorted, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close so that he could press a light kiss to your forehead. This caused you to pout childishly, even crossing your arms for dramatic effect. 

The action seemed to work and he looked confused, a small innocent look on his face as he tilted his head. Questioning you even without words. You almost couldn't hold back your laughter as you spoke up.

"You missed. Now I get to fight you." Before he could respond, you grabbed his collar and pulled him to your level. Pressing your lips firmly against his. 

Looking back on it, you were glad that you got sick. If you had never spent that week in the hospital then you would have never found someone that you would fight the world for. But now you had Hyungu in your life and you would take down the sun, stars, and the moon if it meant he would give you that small shy smile.