#like his head is blank and whatever elevator music plays in it ends up coming out of his mouth

[leclercskiesahead]

“It’s finally quali day…”

carpool C2 karaoke

[five-rivers]

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU.  Sort of.  Lots of outsider perspective.  

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links.  So.  Here’s the AO3 link to the series.  

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McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct.  He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.  

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park.  That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate.  That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate.  Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere.  And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.  

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just.  Disappeared.

The county wanted answers.  So, they sent McGee.  Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that.  As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.  

So, yeah.  Bracing.  Just like the wind.  Ouch, it was cold.  McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.  

The… underground parking garage.  Wind?  

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from.  There weren’t exactly any windows down here.  

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button.  The doors opened immediately.  Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.  

Well.  If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.  

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music.  He kept his face carefully blank.  It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.  

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.  

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head.  They were decorated with bells.  How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins.  We’ll probably be working together at some point.  Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department.  We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.”  He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly.  “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time.  But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner.  You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives.  That’s going to be weird.”  He sipped from his mug again.  “Maybe we’ll promote someone.  Not Cameron Daily, though.”  Collins stared into the middle distance.  “No. Not Cameron Daily.  Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.  

“Hah.  Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.”  Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck.  At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

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McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’  Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate?  Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went.  The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office.  Was the man a fan?  Did he believe in that ghost nonsense?  Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on.  We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.”  Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze.  “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah.  So, the captain was suspicious.  Time to put that backstory to good use.  

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm.  See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel.  We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.”  The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change.  “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll.  Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins.  I know you met him.  Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

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Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid.  Both of their backs were to McGee.  He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests.  All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.  

“—until he sees his first fight?  We’re supposed to babysit him until January?  We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly.  Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.  

“Oh.  McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee.  You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it.  How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.  

“Only since yesterday.  Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.  

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.  

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Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.  

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads).  There was something else.  Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on.  Something—

He did a double-take.  Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters?  Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins.  He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot.  “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm.  Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.”  He pulled the parking brake.  “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face.  “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t.  You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested.  “This isn’t just any new resident.  This is a coworker.  A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee.  This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.  

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further.  “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins.  “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped.  God. It was just some kid.  McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.  

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen.  “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh.  That was interesting.  Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson.  “This is McGee.  McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.  

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.  

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast.  Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…”  He trailed off.  “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway.  Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.”  He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.  

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny.  “Might have to play animal control soon, though.”  There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises.  Danny winced.  “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging.  “Straight from the mayor.  Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins.  “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.  

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.  

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.  

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“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within.  “Your kingdom awaits!”  He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust.  “You’ll be entering old cases into the system.  Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech.  “Yes,” he said.  

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back.  ���If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep.  You’ll learn about those later.  VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great.  So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.  

Collins nodded.  “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.”  He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.  “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk.  There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.  

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins.  “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away.  A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.  

McGee turned to his work and smiled.  They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.  

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.  

It was odd, though.  He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.  

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The department computer filing system was a miracle.  McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems.  He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.  

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it.  It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.  

The record room was not well organized.  In fact, it was barely organized at all.  Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed.  A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room.  Only about half of them were labeled.  

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week.  -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they were a front.  

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop.  He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.  

Except.

Except.  The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist.  Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped.  Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.  

“How’s it going?” she asked.  “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.  

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”  He took the offered cup from her.  “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently?  You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Patterson was unperturbed.  “Yeah, that was pretty exciting.  Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah.  Well, there wasn’t any foul play.”  Patterson shrugged.  

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.  

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson.  “There wasn’t anything there.  Case was cold even without that.”  Another long, aggressive sip.  She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw.  It had to be mostly air.  

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life.  This was saying something.  Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.  

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged.  “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that.  Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too.  You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.”  Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes.  The ones that got fished out of the lake.  Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.  Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake?  Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson.  “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.  

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson.  “Come back at eight.  Bye.” She waved as she left.  

Great.  What was he supposed to do about that?

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He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town.  Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative.  They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.  

But they had avoided certain parts of town.  McGee had noticed.  

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble.  Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.  

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground.  Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself?  Were those tourists?  In the graveyard?  

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.  

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride.  This whole town was in poor taste.  

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave.  Maybe it was a funeral?  No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today?  Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it?  McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh.  The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman.  “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.  

McGee grinned.  “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman.  She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him.  A lie.  Or, at least, deciding which lie to use.  “Well, there was a body found a few months ago?  No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here?  We just, um.  It was sad, you know?  You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.  

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually.  Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.

[kumkaniudaku]

Hey, Neighbor

Summary: You’ve got a noisy neighbor next door to meet.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

“My love is like woah! My kiss is like woah! My touch is like…”

Rolling your eyes, you quietly danced in front of the stove as you sauteed vegetables for dinner. Mya was a new entry into the almost nightly DJ session that took place in the apartment beside your two bedroom unit. Without fail, the once quiet atmosphere was electrified at 6:30 pm sharp, letting you know what kind of day your next door neighbor was having.

Some days, you’d sit and listen, trying to block out the Goodie Mob or Marvin Gaye passing through the paper thin walls while you completed work that had seeped into your home life. Then came the rare moments of playfulness when you would follow each of his songs with a track that served as an answer to the overall theme.

He didn’t seem to notice your attempts to spark a non-verbal conversation. You weren’t even completely sure he knew who you were. Brief meetings in the parking garage or the lobby elevator put you in close proximity, but he never took time to say hello or even acknowledge your dog, Leche when she would climb his long legs for attention. Still, doing so helped you pass the time until he closed up shop and presumably went to bed.

Working on your second glass of Rosé on a rainy Friday evening, you bopped your head along to song after song until the buzz tingling in your bones convinced you to connect your phone to the nearby Bluetooth speaker.

“If your love is like whoa, then you should let me love you. That’s corny,” you muttered to yourself. “Just play the damn song.”

Your timing was perfect as the tail end of Mya met the smooth tone of Mario’s signature crooning.

“Baby, I just don’t get it. Do you enjoy being hurt?”

As quick as you pressed play, you returned your attention to the stove to reduce the heat on your honey glaze. Mario’s vocals quickly became white noise in your brain and you hadn’t noticed that the song was nearing the end until a familiar guitar line interrupted the remaining thirty seconds.

“The time has come for us to stop messing around…”

Your body reacted before you could completely understand what was happening. Was he responding? And if he was, did that mean he had purposely ignored you during the previous unofficial battles? Shaking the thought, you rushed to your phone to find the perfect follow-up to The Gap Band’s ‘Yearning For Your Love.’

Four minutes felt like four hours while you waited for your turn to hit play and answer the coded message.

“In the middle of the day now baby, I seem to think of only you. Never thinking for a moment, baby, that you’ve been thinking of me too.”

“It’s Total and Biggie. Everybody loves Total and Biggie, right? Right?”

Judging from his never ending playlists, he was hard to pin to a genre. Old school funk and soul could be replaced with 90s hip-hop and then soft rock in a 30 minute time span without missing a beat. So, it was only natural that he would find some common ground with a moment from your Bad Boy playlist.

You were at his mercy while the song played and wondered how he was reacting. In your mind, he was just as excited as you were as he scrolled through his phone or computer looking for the perfect rebuttal. In reality, he was probably searching for the perfect set of lyrics that said “Please, leave me alone,” in the nicest way possible.

A long and uncomfortable bout of silence followed the son, making you scrunch your face.

“Oh-kay. Did I win, Leche?” Your favorite Corgi in the world yawned in response before splooting in the center of the living room. “You’re right. He is totally calling the front desk to have me fined for a noise disturbance. Can I borrow $75?”

Mentioning money earned a bark from Leche, making you laugh as you joined her on the floor. The only sound between the two apartments was the start of the newest Real Housewives of Atlanta episode until the Bluetooth speaker next door started up again and Tevin Campbell’s voice began signing.

“Can we talk for a minute? Girl I wanna know your name.”

That was it. The chorus played once through before silence took over.

“Did he do that on purpose,” you thought to yourself.

After a few seconds of gambling with your rational self on what to do next, you scrambled to your Lemme Holla playlist and pressed play on your response.

“Come and talk to me. I really wanna meet you. Can I talk to you? I really wanna know you.”

A loud laugh, one you’d never heard before but knew you wanted to hear again, rang out, making you smile. You listened for movement and found your answer as a door in the hallway opened and closed. Soon, knuckles rapped at your door.

You calmed your giddy dance moves before tip toeing toward the mirror next to the entrance. Luckily you were still in your work attire from the day, sporting a simple olive jumpsuit. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a mental countdown from three and opened the door.

“Oh…”You immediately felt like an idiot for your outburst but it was certainly justified.

He stood with undeniable confidence and the brightest smile you’d seen in a while. The material of his maroon turtleneck stretched across the broad span of his shoulders, rippling at his arms and chest. You could smell a little of his cologne when he shifted his weight to move from his leaning position against the doorframe. He was damn near perfect and you were almost regretting playing games with a gorgeous stranger.

“I brought wine. I could smell whatever you got going on from the balcony and figured I should bring gifts,” he said smiling as he extended the bottle of white wine in your direction. You reached out with a blank stare,prompting him to nervously continue. “I’m Yahya, by the way. From next door. The one with the music.”

“Yahya…,” you repeated. Snapping back into your body, you could see confusion brewing behind his expressive eyes. Shaking your head, you began to smile. “Looks like the Sixth Floor DJ has decided to grace 6F with his presence.”

“Well, you know, I like to put on a show. You’re my favorite audience member if that counts for anything.” Both of you laughed at his pseudo compliment before sharing brief looks that carried deeper meaning. “I gotta say, this is a nice place. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. Just me and Leche about to settle down and watch some Housewives. You caught up with the season?”

“I never miss an episode.”

You returned his wide grin with one of your own and stepped aside to give Yahya room to enter. He strolled in like he was in familiar territory, even bending down to greet Leche who eagerly stood to place her front paws on his leg.

Dinner for one had just found a second party. It was the neighborly thing to do, right?

I’m not sure if anyone wants to be tagged in Yahya stuff. I don’t even know if this will become a regular thing. But, if you’re interested in either, let me know!

[angelruel]

vintage

      summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future.

masterlist      part 2

Word Count: 3.6 k

        Thoughts of worse case scenarios and disasters clouded his mind. After getting that unforeseen phone call, there was nothing left to do except book the earliest flight and rush his way to her. 

        Ruel wasn’t given too many details. All he was told was that his girlfriend had a drunk Uber driver, the crash was big, and her head was hurt badly. He’d never felt more helpless in his life before. And the 16-hour flight was beginning to feel like it would never end. He never slept through flights but he also never sat up staring at the home screen of the airplane monitors, either. There was no listening to music or audiobooks when his mind provided enough loud thoughts to last a lifetime. Ruel’s head felt heavy. He kept replaying their last conversation over and over again. Guilt flooded any positive bridges he tried to aid his confidence with some hope that maybe she would be okay at the end of all this. But even if her life wasn’t ending, would she even want him to be apart of it anymore?

        The piercing sounds of his mental tyranny were silenced once he heard the pilot’s announcement of a successful landing. Ruel couldn’t be bothered with the idea of getting a hotel room or even trying to see what clothes he packed in the small bag he made in his rush to the airport. He knew there was a chance that he might not be able to see her at all since members outside of the family were usually prohibited from visiting ICU patients, but none of that mattered. He just needed to know what was going on. He had tried to stay in close contact with her parents and brother during his travels but between the timezones and lack of signal on the plane, he was only informed of her need for an emergency brain surgery that night. It was almost 8 am when he arrived so he assumed that she would be asleep if she was even out of the procedure by then. 

        He was immediately met with Y/N’s younger brother in the lobby of the hospital. Ruel knew something was off by how quiet her brother was being in the elevator. When he saw him click one of the highest buttons on the navigation panel, he immediately questioned what the letters “SC” stood for. His suspicions were gone as soon as they made it to the floor and he read the sign ahead of him which said “Special Cases Unit.”

        Her mother was more than ecstatic to see him and embraced him with a huge hug when she caught view of the two boys.

         “I’m so glad you’re here…...I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what happened.” She was struggling to speak in between sobs. Ruel rubbed her back while his heart broke right along with hers. She finally pulled back to look up into his swollen eyes.

        “Is she...okay?” His thick accent was amplified and Adam's apple quivered as he tried to choke back his own cries. Her mom fell back into her seat as if her body couldn’t take anymore and Y/N’s father stepped in to answer Ruel’s question.

        “She’s okay, physically. She woke up about two hours after the procedure. But she’s not...there all of the way.” The concerned look in Ruel’s eyes turned into confusion and it felt as though all of the worse case scenarios that he imagined were becoming a reality.

        “What-what does any of this mean? Did the brain surgery not go well? What’s wrong with her?”

         “She doesn’t know who we are.”

         His world seemed as if it were crashing down around him. His vision grew cloudy as it did when he initially got the phone call with the news of the crash, but he tried to pay as close enough attention to what was being told to him so that he could do whatever needed to be done. Ruel always feared losing the ones he loved, but he never imagined any of them being taken away from him in this manner. This felt all so...torturous. As if there was a higher being up above pulling the strings of coincidence and having a huge laugh at his expense. 

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        Everything appeared to be light when he walked into the recovery room. Like the entire room was covered in a comforting aura, not too different from the way Y/N had of making someone feel with her presence before the accident. 

        Her bedding was covered with her favorite blue quilt, her feet were exposed but covered in adorable fuzzy sheep socks. Ruel assumed she was sleeping by the silence in the room. He grabbed one of the couch chairs, scooted it closer towards her bedside, and decided to take a nap. Her mother had already extended an invitation for him to spend as much time as he wanted in there since they would have a lot to talk about and she could see the exhaustion worn out on his face from the sudden travels taken. 

        Y/N’s head was turned to the other side of the room, but he could see that it was wrapped in fresh gauze from the procedure. He didn’t want to get in her face and startle her if she woke up since she didn’t know who he was. However, Ruel found himself restless as he awaited the moment he would get to “meet” his girlfriend. Another part of him was thanking fate for granting him a chance to relive their relationship without regrets. He thought about what he would do differently. He thought about whether or not she would even want to be with him in the first place. She did before, and he was still the same person, so nothing should have changed. Hopefully it didn’t.

        The back and forth in his head was hushed with the soft coo of her voice. He hadn’t even noticed that she had turned around to look at him.

        “Hi,” she repeated with the same soft smile she had given him the first time they’d met. It was clear that she had no idea who he was. And by the rosy tint in her cheeks, she was still very much infatuated with him. 

        “...hi.” He tried to respond in an eager tone, but not too eager, as he didn’t want to freak her out or come on too strong. He didn’t want to seem like a creepy dude who waited at her bedside to speak with her, but that was exactly what he was. 

        She started to sit up in her bed and Ruel stood in concern with his arms out toward her.

        “I don’t know if you should be doing that yet, you just had some major procedures.”

        “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She gave him a hesitant look. She was obviously freaked out by the stranger sitting in front of her. The girl who was once so comfortable around him was now slowly backing away from him in small scoots as much as she could in the tiny hospital bed she laid in.

        “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.” He was met with another blank stare from her.

        “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable.” Ruel smiled at her which granted him a smile back.

        When she smiled back at him, she went to push up her glasses that were currently not on her face. Something she only did when she was nervous.

        “Excuse my forwardness, but if you don’t mind, who exactly are you?”

        Very forward.

        The question didn’t hurt Ruel half as much as he anticipated it to. In reality, he was just grateful to be sat down talking with her at all. He could almost call it a miracle that she was still here with him but he refused to think how much worse her conditions could have been. 

        Instead, he simply smiled and replied, “I’m Ruel.”

        “Ruel, Ruel. That’s a cool name. I’m Y/N.”

        His smile grew bigger. He didn’t expect her to remember anything, let alone her own name. “Yeah, I know.”

        “Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” she began to look down and play with the ring on her hand before looking up at him again with hopeful eyes. 

        “So how do we know each other, Ruel?”

        Ruel hesitated to respond. How weird would it be to say ‘I am your boyfriend,’ to someone who you just met two minutes ago? Well, more like met you two minutes ago. She had two minutes of memories with him and he had two years of memories with her.  He wasn’t some random guy taking advantage of her memory loss who was posing as her boyfriend to get close to her. Her family wouldn’t have let him get through to the room if that was the case. It’s not like she knew who they were, either.

        “We were friends.”

        “Friends, huh? Well okay. That’s cool. We must’ve been best friends since you’re up here to visit me this early in the morning.”

        “Yeah, we were. I uh, actually got you that ring you’re wearing there,” he pointed to her left hand which sported the blue promise ring he gave her after some anniversary that he couldn’t even remember. He was shocked that she had it on. 

        “So you lied then, huh” Ruel’s expression turned to confusion and she erupted into laughter. “You didn’t tell me we were married, Ruel.” She pushed her imaginary glasses back again and tried to pull down the right sleeve of her sweater. This tone she had about her, he recognized it. She was flirting with him.

        And then he laughed with her. Still a nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

        “Hah, yeah. See the thing is, not married but we were together.”

        “Together? Like, together together?”

        He could only nod in response. What was he to say to her in this situation? Her reaction to this was simply going to determine the course of their relationship from there forward.

        “Like boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that so?” She joked in a matter-of-factly tone. 

        That didn’t sound like a positive tone.

        “Is that a bad thing?”

        “No, not at all. It’s just unbelievable.” Her face read pure disbelief.

        Was she being serious? Had she no idea how crazy he was about her? Of course, she didn’t. In the early stages of their relationship, Y/N struggled with insecurities and the need for reassurance that Ruel was actually into her. He gave her all of the comfort she needed and he was more than willing to do it again. It was weird to think that she was there but not there.

        “Okay well I need some proof here, Ruel.”

        “Proof?” 

        “You can’t just hop in and say you’re my boyfriend and then not have anything to back it up on. For all I know, you could be some deranged stranger who snuck into my room and is taking advantage of my memory loss.” Huh, maybe it wasn’t as far fetched as he thought.

        She ended that last statement with a proud smile which made him chuckle softly. Her expression shifted from her cheeky grin into a perplexed smirk as she hesitated to continue the conversation. He sat back down and gave her the signal to go ahead.

        “Do you have any pictures of us?”

        “Sure, here’s one right now,” he moved with a nervous quickness as he patted down his pants to fish for his phone out of a pocket. He motioned it towards her to grab.

        It was his lockscreen. The two of them, in a room of some sort. Maybe a bedroom? He was sitting in an office chair and she sat on his lap. They were laughing at each other or something. His large hand cupped the side of her face while the other wrapped firmly around her waist. She finally looked up from the screen to take another look at him for an explanation. He was studying her intently. 

        “Yeah, so uh this was basically the last time you came to visit me at home. About two weeks ago. My sister took the picture. It’s one of my favorites at the moment.”

        Y/N took another look at the phone screen before dropping her head low. Her eyes began to build up willowy clouds of tears and she let out a soft cry. Ruel bent his head down to meet her eyes with concern. Confusion erupted and he looked confused as to what had just happened.

        “What’s wrong? Do you need me to get a nurse? What’s going on?”

        Y/N sniffled and wiped her nose with the fuzzy blanket that covered her legs. When she lifted her head to meet his eyes, hers were red and puffy. Ruel stared at her with hurt in his own eyes. It looked as if he just wanted to take away any pain that she was feeling.

        “I don’t remember any of it.”

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        Y/N’s eyelashes fluttered open and her sleepy face morphed into a stern mug. The constant beeping from her monitors went from a soothing lullaby to an annoying alarm. She turned her head slightly to see the long haired boy staring back at her hopelessly. The fading lights from the tv in the corner of her ceiling illuminated his face. How long had she been asleep?

        “you’re still here,” her voice hummed out.

        He let out a low chuckle, “I am.” A clear silence hung above them. Not awkward this time, just still.

      “I can leave if you want. I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

        “-no, no. You should stay. I like the company.”

        He smiled. “Well good. Because I didn’t really plan on leaving anyways.” The silence was cut by mutual laughter.

        “It’s just a little weird, though.”

        Ruel tilted his head in curiosity, “What’s weird?”

        “Oh, you know. Spending time with a girl who doesn’t know who you are,” her face grew into a cold smile again. She may not have remembered much but she never lost her sarcasm. 

        “Or anything about herself,” she added and looked down again. 

        “I didn’t have any other places to go in mind when I bought my plane ticket.”

        “You flew out here?” He nodded. “Oh wait, you said in the picture that I came to visit you ‘at home.’ Where’s home for you?”

        “Sydney, Australia. That’s where I live.”

        “Ohhhhh. So that’s where the accent came from. Okay. Cool, cool.” After saying that, her lips puckered into a pout. She seemed weirdly accepting of everything. Her cute reactions to learning things about him was so entertaining to him.

        “Wait, how did I end up with a boyfriend from Australia?” Her fascination in him was adorable. It was also refreshing to have this new sense of discovery between the two of them.

        Ruel’s exhaustion all but faded away once he got carried away with explaining the entire story of how they met to Y/N. He answered every question that she had without hesitation. He told her everything he could think of and she listened with open ears. He talked to her until the exhaustion hit and he fell asleep mid sentence. She just laid there and watched him in admiration. He had clearly used every ounce of energy left to pay her attention and his restful state was quite angelic. His arms were crossed and he sat up in the lounge seat adjacent to the bed. His head laid to the side, lips pierced slightly opened where little snores escaped. Y/N was crushing hard.

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

        “Guess what I did today,” she suggested eagerly as she snatched a green bear from the bag sitting in Ruel’s lap across from her and proceeded to chew the head off.

        “What’d you do?” He gave her a soft smile.       

        Ruel enjoyed the back and forth that they were able to enjoy. Things were starting to feel normal. In a weird, very not normal way. 

        “I remembered my parents.”

        Ruel felt himself slightly choke on the few gummy bears he had just stuffed into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting that. It had only been two days. 

        “What did you remember?” He managed to get out between muffled chews. He tried to hide his disbelief. It shouldn’t have come as much of a shock to him, though. Y/N was always extra resilient in difficult times.

        “As weird as it is, I remembered the most random memory of them. We were all gathered in the kitchen to help my brother. Jason, no. His name is John I think. He was sick though. And we were all trying to make him take his medicine. And then, all of a sudden, I grabbed the little cup and drank the cough syrup for him. And he got all jealous that I had drank his medicine. Then they both-both of my parents-also drank a little cup full of the medicine. He drank it so fast,” she laughed and used her hands to narrate the story. 

        “We never had a problem with the medicine again.” Y/N turned her head back to him and folded her hands in her lap. 

        Ruel stood up and began pacing the room. He was excited. “That’s good. That’s so good. I wish I would’ve been here to witness it. I bet your mom cried.” She laughed in response and confirmed his assumption.

        “Well, even stalkers need rest sometimes,” she joked in reference to the new nickname she’d labeled Ruel as a stalker. That was all he did after all: stare at her and break for sleep in the hotel down the street.

       Ruel floated across the room and towards her bed. He pressed his hands against the rails at the end of it. “I wonder what else you could remember if we triggered it. Do you remember what happened right before you got the memory?”

        “Not really. We were just talking at it all came to me. I remembered their names and everything. It felt nice.” She nonchalantly continued to steal the gummy bears from his bag that he’d left in her lap. 

        Ruel looked up as if he was brainstorming up a plan to jog some more memories. 

        “So we just need to talk more. Maybe if I bring you some items to help bring some stuff back.”

        “Items?”

        “Yeah, a few things I have from you. You get kind of...emotionally attached to material things. I’ve grown quite a collection over the time we’ve spent.”

        “Ooh, maybe if you could bring me a few pictures to look at. That might help.” She watched him pace around the room. It felt as if they were a team working together to solve a mystery. Or find hidden treasure. The treasure in this case were her memories. They seemed so valuable and delicate since she didn’t have them anymore.

        “I have to go home in a few hours. I can bring some things when I come back.”

        She looked up at him as if he’d just killed her best friend. “You’re leaving?”

        “Only for a while, honey. I just have to get some things in line. I kind of left without any notice. But I plan on taking more time off to spend with you.”

        “Is um...Nate gonna be okay with the amount of time you took off? That’s his name, right?”

        “Hah, yeah. It’s Nate. And everyone is very understanding of the circumstances. They all just want to see you get better.” He looked up at her with optimism as he sat back down. Anytime she would bring up the outside world or his very real responsibilities, he would shut her down. Ruel was dead set on focusing just on Y/N and what she needed at all times. It made her wonder about their relationship sometimes. Made her wonder if she gave him half as much love as he gave her. Trying to somehow figure out what she did to deserve such kind people to take care of her.

        “Well, tell them that I appreciate it.”

        He reached out to place his hand on top of hers. His fingertips graced on top of the IV coming out of her hand. His were much larger than hers. It was kind of funny to look at. “Will do,” he remarked with a smile.

        “So you don’t think there will be any consequences to the sudden break you’re taking in your career? Like, won’t the fans be disappointed?” He had told her a little about his life, but not in too much detail. All she knew was that he was a singer and he was pretty popular among teenage white girls. When he showed her some of his music online, she was shocked by the amount of success he’d acquired over such a short time period. Her favorites were “Younger” and “Don’t Cry” but she really enjoyed all of it. He loved watching her listen to his music for the first time. Well, the second first time. 

       He took her hand in a firm grip. “They’ll all understand. They love you almost as much as I do.” She smiled back at him. The connection was obviously still there. He always told her he loved her in middle of conversations or right before he would leave, but she never said it back. Ruel told her he understood. He understood that she didn’t want to say anything she didn’t mean. But he also explained to her that even though her feelings had gone away, his never did.

        “Yeah well hopefully you can last this plane ride without leaking any other cover art to them,” she turned her head at him in a joking manner.

        He laughed, “Yeah hopefully.” Ruel looked back up at her. He couldn’t believe it.    

        “Wait, what?” The last time Ruel took the long flight from visiting Y/N, he’d been so disoriented from lack of sleep that he accidentally posted a picture of the new cover art for an unreleased song on his story instead of sending it to a friend. He never mentioned that to her.

        She looked confused. “What?”

        “Y/N, you remember that? You just remembered that. The thing about the picture. How’d you remember that?”

        Her smile revealed her teeth this time. “Huh, I don’t know. I guess I just did.”

[thompsborn]

sappy lines #16 and #11 with parkner please and thank you

16. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

+ 11. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

coming right up babey, let’s pine lads

—

There’s that moment, the one that feels like it came straight from a movie, where time slows down and the world goes quiet and everything goes fuzzy outside of the one place that eyes linger, the focal point of attention. In that moment, there is only Peter, standing in the kitchen and tossing an apple between his hands, and there’s Harley, standing in the doorway, hands settled in the front pockets of his pants and his eyes a little bit wide.

The apple rolls across Peter’s fingertips and falls to the countertop—not that either of them notices, of course, far too busy taking in the sight of one another in a not so subtle yet trying way too hard to be subtle way.

Of course, this isn’t really the first time they’ve seen each other dressed up before—there had been the big dinner they went to for Pepper’s birthday, where they’d put on nice button up shirts and clean black slacks and the nice shoes that Tony insisted on buying them—but this is different, full on three piece suits that kind of match in a very subtle sort of way. Peter’s curls are gelled with just enough precision to make them the perfect kind of bouncy and Harley’s hair has just enough moose in it to keep it from going haywire, like it usually does within the first thirty minutes of taming it, though it still falls naturally across his forehead in dirty blond waves that still appear somehow soft to the touch. Peter’s fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and brush through the ringlets, but he doesn’t, just averts his eyes after taking in the way the suit hugs Harley’s body perfectly.

“Um.” Peter clears his throat, picks up the apple again and takes a bite out of it, just to give himself an excuse to wait a little longer, mind blank on something acceptable to say. Juice from the apple drips down his chin in his haste, quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand before scrabbling for a napkin because he doesn’t want a single drop to get in the far too expensive suit he has on. Only after he’s dapped it away with the napkin does he try to look back at Harley again, knees going a bit weak at the soft eyes smile that Harley is wearing, looking some kind of fond and amused and a little bit timid, too. Clearing his throat again, Peter crumples up the napkin and tosses it in the garbage before saying, “You look, um—you look nice. It’s a good suit.”

“Yeah, Pep has great taste, right?” Harley agrees, leans against the entryway for the kitchen and looks away from Peter with a blush that could just be makeup but could be his cheeks flushing a bit as well. “Thanks, though. And you, uh... you look good, too. Or, um—nice, not good. Not that you don’t look good, ‘cause you definitely—you definitely do, but you said nice, so maybe you just want to hear nice and not—you know what? I’m gonna stop talking before I say something even more stupid.”

Peter’s lips quirks up against his will, beyond endeared by the way that Harley ducks his head in some kind of embarrassment, scuffing his nice dress shoes against the kitchen tile as he bunches his shoulders up in a weird sort of shrug. “Thanks,” Peter murmurs, takes another bite of his apple despite not really wanting to eat it. “When do we have to head down again?”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Harley tells him, “It starts in ten minutes, so we should probably go now. Tony said he wants us to be there before guests show up, since we’re supposed to, like, actually socialize with people and tell them about the charity and shit.”

Peter lets out a light laugh. “You make it sound like a hard thing to do when you’re the one who suggested what charity to donate to this year.”

“Oh, choosing the charity was easy,” Harley says simply. “Talking to a bunch of snobby rich people? Not so much, but, y’know, for the sake of making sure poor and homeless kids get shelter and presents for Christmas is worth it.” He shrugs, a forced sort of nonchalant attitude to his actions, and adds: “Plus, y’know, I get to spend all night watchin’ you walk around in that super nice suit, which is definitely a bonus.”

A moment of quiet passes where Peter feels his face heat up at the blatant attempt at flirting, eyes casting downward, takes a third bite of his apple before tossing it in the trash because he doesn’t think he can force down anymore. Then, when he can’t find something suitable to say—can’t grasp the right words, has always struggled to vocalize something as upfront as flirting, doesn’t have the confidence for something so blunt—he settles for meekly saying, “So, we should—we should go, then.”

Harley clears his throat, squints over at the wall with some kind fo pinched expression. “Yeah, we should, um—we should go. We should go.”

“Okay,” Peter murmurs, tried not to feel stifled by the undefinable feeling hanging in the air.

There’s that moment, yet again, where they meet eyes across the crowded room down at the charity gala, even when a sea of fancily dressed business people separates them, when music is playing through the speakers and chit chat is pleasantly filtering across the room. Peter is nodding along to something a bookkeeper for SI is saying and Harley is laughing along with an engineer professor that teaches at NYU and their gazes lock and there’s something there, an unspoken yet all consuming something that curls and twists and pleads with them without using words.

Peter looks away first, before he gets stuck there, staring into Harley’s baby blue eyes with a sense of everything filling his veins, smiles at the bookkeeper and keeps nodding despite not really hearing what it is they have to say. Harley keeps looking for a moment longer, swallows thicky before tearing his eyes away, and it’s left at that for the time being, settles in the back of their minds with an insistent sort of buzzing.

It isn’t until the end of the night, after they’ve raised over a million dollars for the charity and a majority of the guests have filed out of building to head home and the staff are starting to clean up, and they—as they always tend to do—gravitate towards each other, meet in the middle at the elevator and share little smiles but don’t talk until the doors have opened and closed behind them. Even then, it’s just Harley asking, “That wasn’t too bad, right?”

“No, it was pretty fun, actually,” Peter says with a light hum, clasps his hands behind his back because he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I got to catch up with Harry, which was cool, since we kind of stopped being friends when his dad sent him to boarding school back when we were, like, thirteen. And the food was good, too, and, um...” He trails off, tries not to sound as awkward as he feels when he clears his throat a bit and gives himself a moment to string together his sentence. Then, a bit strained and lacking certainty, he says, “Um, it was also—also kind of nice, seeing, um—like you said before, with you seeing me in a suit, y’know, but, um, the other way, with me getting to see you in a—in a suit. That was nice, too.”

He doesn’t look over, because he doesn’t think he really can after that train wreck, but he glances at the metal elevator doors and looks at Harley’s reflection instead, sees the way the ends of his lips quirk up in a small little smile, how he glances at Peter and then quickly looks away. It’s a cute sight, Peter thinks, even if he didn’t really get the flirting thing right, but he doesn’t have time to try again before the doors slide open on the pent house floor.

Feeling sheepish and unsure, Peter ducks his head to avoid Harley’s eyes, shuffles out of the elevator with a murmured little, “I’m gonna go, um, go to bed, probably? So, um, goodni—”

“Or we can watch a movie,” Harley offers, sounding a bit rushed with his words, stepping out of the elevator as well. “It’s not that late yet, and I’m not really all that tired, so, if you want, we can—I mean, in the living room, or one of our rooms, or—or whatever. If you want.”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek, look up at Harley with a barely contained smile. “Okay.”

There’s a glimmer of something in Harley’s eyes, some kind of excitement as he bobs his head in a nod and says, “Okay, then, um—your room, maybe? Since you already have snacks in there? I can—I mean, we could—the living room, too, if you’d rather go there.”

“My room’s fine,” Peter says, tone a tad bit softer than intended. “Ten minutes?”

“Yeah,” Harley breathes. “Ten minutes. I’ll be there. And I’ll grab some drinks, too. Soda?”

Peter nods, turns on his heel before he gets sucked in by the gravitational pull that Harley has on him, and quickly scurries to his room, knowing that there’s a pile of schoolwork on his desk and a mess of clothes on the floor that he wants to pick up before Harley comes in. Not that he thinks he’d be judged for the clutter, is well aware that Harley’s room can be just as askew as his own, but he wants to impress, in even the simplest of ways.

There’s that moment, the third of the night, where that feeling settles over them, when Peter opens the door ten minutes later in his lazy clothes and with his hair still wet from quickly rinsing the gel out in the sing, a few drops of water rolling down his face as he steps out of the way and gestures inside with a sheepish little half grin, as if Harley wasn’t in his room two days ago while they studied for a test.

Harley doesn’t move for a long moment, looks a little bit ridiculous with the hem of his sweatshirt in his hand to hold four cans of soda in the make shift pouch that the material makes, hoodie pulled up over his head and hiding a majority of the blond waves that he spent a solid minute tugging at because he didn’t have time to shower away the products in his hair and hadn’t thought of rinsing it out real quick like Peter apparently did. His eyes are stuck on how the light reflects off of Peter’s curls like a halo, has to blink himself out of it in order to step into the room and forces himself to ask, “So, what should we watch?”

“I was thinking either something funny or something scary,” Peter answers quickly, because he had spent part of his ten minutes debating that very question, wanting to seem prepared because he feels anything but. “Or a Christmas movie,” he adds. “Since we just had a whole Christmas charity thing, y’know?”

“Christmas themed horror movie, maybe?” Harley offers, trotting over to Peter’s bed and plopping down on it to make himself comfortable, releasing his hold on the hem of his hoodie to let the drinks roll onto the mattress beside him. “I’ve heard of a few of ‘em. There’s gotta be something good, right?”

Eyes lighting up, Peter settles in next to Harley, pulls open the bottom drawer in his night stand to pull out the paper bag full of snacks that he keeps in his room for the munchies that always seem to wake him up in the middle of the night. “I know exactly what we need to watch,” he says, kind of giddy and excited. “Friday,” he calls out, pulling a blanket over the two of them and settling the bag of snacks on the duvet for them to easily access. “Dim the light to fifteen percent and play Gremlins, please!”

Automatically, the lights go low and the TV turns on, the movie flickering to life on the screen. Harley hums, settles back against the pillows and says, “I’ve never actually seen this, I don’t think. Heard of it, but never watched it.”

“Shh, you gotta pay attention,” Peter whispers, eyes already fixated on the TV, but his mind doesn’t focus on the movie—which he has watched a thousand times by now, always seems to rewatch it with May every December and recommends it whenever he can. Instead, he finds all his senses trained onto Harley, hearing his heartbeat, feels his body heat due to how close they’re sitting, can smell the cologne he was wearing for the charity gala and watches his reactions from his peripheral as subtly as possible, smiles when he smiles and hopes that Harley actually likes the movie and won’t think that Peter chose something dumb.

Thoughout the movie, Harley makes the odd comment here and there, jumps a bit at the loud noises and giggles under his breath at some of the scenes, but otherwise seems completely engrossed in the film, doesn’t look away, barely even blinks, keeps his reactions to a minimum. Peter is so focused on trying to figure out if he’s enjoying the movie or not that he doesn’t really notice that Harley is moving closer, not until their sides are pressed right up against each other, from shoulder to elbow to hip to knee, and then he does something odd, tilts a bit until their heads are leaning together, as well, and Peter has to hold his breath to stop himself from actually gasping in shock.

“Um...” Peter’s voice breaks a bit, cracks on the exhale and shakes when he sucks in a sharp breath to try and relax a bit. “Harley...?”

“Shh, I’m trying to pay attention,” Harley whispers, and Peter can practically hear the little smile in his voice, the little smug like edge to his tone as he presses a little bit closer to Peter, doesn’t move his eyes from the TV for even a moment, even when he slowly reaches over to hold Peter’s hand, their interlocked fingers settling atop the duvet, and all Peter can do is stare at how their hands fit together, wonders if Harley realizes that his heart is thundering against his ribcage.

He doesn’t even realize the movie’s ended until he watches Harley pull his hand away, and, without really meaning to, looks up with a shadow of disappointment settling over him at the loss of contact, turns his head to see why Harley let go, only to find the TV off and Harley moving away altogether, no longer pressed to Peter’s side and staring down at his lap with a frown that’s barely visible in the low lighting.

“It’s late,” Harley says, kind of quiet.

Peter isn’t sure what it is, but he knows he’s missing something. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Harley nods, still not looking up from where he’s twisting the material of the blanket between his fingers. “Past midnight, so...”

“You’re going back to your room,” Peter says, doesn’t ask it because the answer is pretty clear, and he tries not to feel upset, tries not to let the disappointment double in his chest.

Harley falters, then says, “I’m sorry.”

That makes Peter freeze a bit, confused and a little bit panicked because he doesn’t like that sad tinge in Harley’s voice. “What? For what?”

“For, y’know, the—the stupid flirting, and for holding your hand like that without even asking, even though you were clearly uncomfortable with it and I... I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

“Uncomfortable?” Peter repeats, frowning.

Harley shifts, leans further away from Peter and crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders hunched. “Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes downcast. “You got quiet and changed the subject, and when I held your hand, you sounded weird, and just stared at our hands with a weird look on your face. Like you were disgusted, or whatever. It looked like you wanted to let go.”

“I wasn’t... I’m not disgusted,” Peter says, brows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. He thought it was pretty obvious, the fact that he’s not really good at this stuff, but he supposes he can see it, the way Harley must have misinterpreted his reactions as something negative. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine that Harley isn’t actually there, hopes that thinking he’s alone will give him courage, and meekly admits, “I, um... I’m just really out of my element right now? I’ve never—never really, um—never flirted before, I guess? I don’t really know how to—how to react, or anything. But you haven’t... you don’t make me uncomfortable, Harley. You just make me nervous, ‘cause I don’t really even know how to act when I’m around you.”

Finally, Harley looks up, glances at Peter with what might be a little bit of hope in his eyes. “You don’t know how to act around me? Why?”

Peter shrugs a bit, swallows the nervous lump in his throat and gives himself a moment to properly piece together a response. “Because, um... well, I mean, I—I thought it was obvious, to be honest. I thought you already knew.”

Harley is frozen in anticipation. “Knew what?”

“That I, y’know...” Peter trails off, shakes his head a bit, and barely manages to choke out, “That I—I like you. Like. As more than a friend. And I don’t know how to—how to act around you because I’ve never actually, um—never really ended up all that close with my crushes before, y’know? But then we started hanging out and became friends and I—I don’t know what to do when you—when you flirt with me and hold my hand because I’ve never done this before and I really, really like you, okay? And I thought you knew that because you keep flirting and stuff, and I keep thinking that you like me, too, but then you do—you do this, where you pull away before I have the courage to do anything, and I just keep—keep hoping you’ll just do something, like—like kiss me or something, so that I can stop doubting if you really like me, ‘cause I—I think you do, but if you do, then why haven’t you kissed me yet? But that’s not really a fair question, either, and I shouldn’t—shouldn’t expect you to—”

There’s that moment, not the first, not the last, where soft, slightly shaky hands cup Peter’s face and a pair of lips press to his own, open and warm and inviting, cutting off his rambling in the best possible way. His eyes are already closed, so he just leans into it with a slightly hitched breath, reaches up to wrap his fingers around Harley’s wrist with one hand, the other hesitating before settling lightly against Harley’s waist, curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he tried to imitate what Harley’s doing, parts his lips and moves like he does, hopes that he’s doing it right because he doesn’t really have much else to compare it to. It seems like he’s doing alright, though, because Harley makes a dizzying sort of desperate noise that rumbles in the back of his through and he moves one hand to Peter’s hair and the other to the back of Peter’s neck and tries to pull him closer and deepen the kiss and Peter’s hands are shaking but he ignores it and gets lost in this feeling, this moment.

It feels like they must kiss for years before they pull away, panting and out of breath and wearing dopey little smiles. Peter’s words, everything he wants to say, is lodged in his throat and impossible to talk around so he just kisses Harley again and again and again, little pecks that try to say everything he can’t, until he finally stop and leans their foreheads together and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I thought...” Harley trails off, clears his throat and closes his eyes. “‘Cause of how you kept reacting, I just—I thought you didn’t want me.”

“God, I want you,” Peter breathes, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve been crushing on you for over a year, Harley. I definitely want you. Like, one hundred percent, please date me, I really want to keep kissing kind of want you, y’know?”

A heavy exhale pushes its way out of Harley’s mouth, a sound of relief and an emotional sort of happiness, and he leans in again, kisses Peter with a sense of urgency, lips moving fervently and fingers lightly brushing through Peter’s hair, fingertips skimming across his jaw and mapping out the shape of his face while Peter just presses closer and hopes that this moment never ends, wishes that all of their moment, the eyes meeting across the room, the awkward fumbling through nervous compliments when seeing one another in their fancy suits, the heaviness of something unspoken weighing them down in the elevator while Peter stumbled through a compliment, the feeling of their sides pressed close together and their fingers intertwined and this kiss, god, this kiss.

If they did nothing but kiss til the end of time, Peter would be happy. God, he could die now and he would be content, holding onto Harley and kissing him, kissing him, kissing him, until he’s dizzy and warm and he has to break the kiss because happy little giggles are bubbling out of his throat and Harley just grins, a bit dazed and fond, and he loops his arms around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, the two of them curling into one another and cuddling close together, and only when their little bouts of laughter have calmed down does Peter clear his throat and ask, “What do you think of Gremlins, by the way?”

“Oh, I want a Gizmo,” Harley answers instantly, presses his nose to the underside of Peter’s jaw as he snuggles into him. “The other fuckers deserved to die, but Gizmo is a precious baby and I would die for him.”

“I wanna get a cat named Gizmo,” Peter muses, eyes closing, every muscle relaxing into the mattress. “I think it’d be cute.”

Harley hums lightly. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas.”

“May and I can’t have pets at the apartment.”

“But I can convince Tony to let you keep a cat here,” Harley points out, shrugging a shoulder half-heartedly. “Don’t worry about it. Just maybe think about what kind of cat you want and let me know in time to go look around at nearby shelters. And maybe try to act surprised when I give it to you.”

Peter snorts, smothers a grin in Harley’s hair. “You’re crazy.”

He can feel the smile on Harley’s face against the side of his neck. “Crazy for you, Parker. Now shut up and go to sleep. Cuddling makes me tired.”

“Bossy,” Peter murmurs, but leaves it there, starting to feel drowsy himself, and when he drifts away, he’s still wearing a happy little grin.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Got Your Number

Follow up to “Wrong Number” - but can be stand alone.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18, graphic smut

* * * 

You may have let out a little groan as you lowered the heavy file box to the ground, but it didn’t cover the deep, sexy hum that came from the doorway. It took effort to bite back the grin and school your features into a rye scowl. Standing up slowly, you turned with a sigh.

“You going to just stand there, or give me a hand?” One eyebrow arched.

Bucky closed the distance in three long strides, grabbing your ass cheek in a firm grip. “I’ll give you a hand.”

You shivered when he growled in your ear, voice low and just loud enough for your ears alone. Playing tough only lasted as long as he didn’t drop into that tone. He quickly learned your personal kryptonite existed within the low register of his voice, especially when laden with sinful promise and filthy words.  

He chuckled when your fingers fisted in his Henley and your head lolled back to stare into his eyes.  

“You need me?”    

“Seems to be a regular occurrence.” You sighed in mock disappointment.  

Metal fingers cupped your face, drawing you up for a kiss. His teeth nipped at your lower lip. Lifting onto your toes you fought for more contact, tongue sweeping against his mouth. He pulled back just enough to block your efforts. You whined, trying again. He smiled against your lips, but didn’t grant you the depth of kiss you desired. When he tried to pull away a third time, you grabbed two handfuls of hair, pulling him forward hard.

“Asshole.” You smiled against his lips.

Bucky growled and devoured your mouth thoroughly, wet and messy. His arms held you flush against him, lifting you to the tips of your toes. His arms did not lessen their hold even when his mouth trailed to the sensitive spot below your ear. “Any chance I could lay you across that desk and fuck you ‘til you scream?”    

“Not right now, Buck. People are working.” You laughed.

“So, later?” He pulled back enough for you to see the mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes.

He drank down your laughter in another kiss.

“You know, he has a room upstairs.” The dry voice of Tony Stark interrupted you. “I’m not putting a murphy bed in here and the cleaning crew will only do so much.”

Bucky reluctantly let you go. He almost managed to not glare at the intrusion, to which Tony only beamed all the brighter. Buck shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans to hide his cockblocked erection and leaned against your desk.  

“So, getting all moved in?” Tony picked up a photo of your mom and put it back in the box where he found it, flipped open a binder on the latest W.H.O. status report, and finally ended up unscrewing the cap to a fountain pen that had been on the desk. “Oh, nice.”

“Careful, she tends to get stabby with that one.” Bucky muttered.  

You laughed, barely believing he remembered some of the first word you ever spoke to him.  

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Tony put it down. “So, seriously, is there anything you need, doc?”

“No, not now. The office is bigger that my first apartment. The lab is amazing. I’m just getting settled in right now, so,” You smiled. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” Stark grinned back. “Welcome aboard.” He stopped at the door, looking back with a smirk. “I mean it about the cleaning crew. They won’t do biological messes.”

“Piss off.” Bucky growled.

You could hear Stark as he walked down the hall, “Not the fluids I was talking about!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth ticked up. After a moment, he pulled his hands free and grabbed your hips. You leaned into him as he nuzzled your neck. “You done for the day?”

“There’s still lots to do,” you sighed. “But, yeah, it’s quitting time.”

Stark had made true to his word and called you with a job offer. Actually, he sent a currier with furniture catalogs and paint samples. Then he followed up with a phone call with the offer. Even though you knew the work you did for the CDC was important, working for Stark Industries and therefore with the Avengers could have even bigger impacts. Plus, the wages and fringe benefits couldn’t be beat.

You insisted on giving a four-week notice before coming to work for Stark in order to appropriately hand off the research project under your guidance. During that time Bucky would call you to see if you’d left the office, teasing about the long hours, promising that once you were within his reach he would make certain you never worked overtime.

Here it was your first day, and he was staying true to his word.

“You want to grab some dinner, Doll?”  

“Would we have to go anywhere?” You leaned into his chest, head resting upon his flesh shoulder. He generated so much heat. Melting into him, feeling the solidity of chest against yours, you really didn’t want to go out. You wanted the contact.  

“Just upstairs.” He breathed into your hair.

“That,” You purred, lips nipped his stubble covered jaw, “I'm all over that.”

He chuckled.  

“What?”

“Everything you say, Doll,” His voice dropped an octave, and he breathed in your ear, “just goes straight to my cock.”

You rubbed into him, feeling just how true it was. He groaned.

“Stop that,” he held your hips still. “Upstairs. Now.”

He pushed you away. You grabbed your purse and locked your office with a touch of your hand. The few people on your floor, the new team you would be working with, shot glances your way but didn’t really say much. Not everyone on staff got a personal visit from Stark. None of them got a personal escort from the Winter Soldier.  

At the elevator you caught the hard look on Bucky’s face.  

You leaned into him a little, wrapping your hands around his bicep. “No scaring the staff.”

“What?” His brows rose.

“You were giving them the eye.”

“They were staring.”

“Well, you’re hot as hell. Get over it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but a grin broke though the scowl. “You’re so full of shit.”

“They’re a bunch of researchers. They don’t go upstairs. Seeing one of you is rare, even working in the same building.” You chuckled. “They’re probably thinking I’ve slept my way into the job.”

His back went stiff, face hard. “If anyone so much as...”

“Hey,” You started but the elevator came. Pulling his royal angriness inside, you started over. “I meant they are undoubtedly wondering about the situation. It's human nature. Don’t worry. I can handle it. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I couldn’t.”

Bucky still looked murderous. “Still, if anyone dares to accuse you of anything like that...”

“Then I will be the one to rip their balls of and shove them down their throat.”

He went blank.

“I’ve been standing up for myself, especially in the professional arena, for a long time. I’m good at it. I know when to push back, and I know when to let people hang themselves.” You put your hands flat on his chest. “Buck, I appreciate you wanting to come to my defense, but in this situation you need to leave it to me. You saying anything, or Stark saying anything, will make me look weaker. Believe me.”

He covered your hands with his, “Hang themselves, huh?”

The elevator doors opened to the residential floor that you’d gotten to know so well in the last month. You turned towards Bucky’s suite. “Yep, nothing like watching an egotistical idiot fall on their face when they trip on their own bullshit. It's a thing of beauty.”

“Amen to that sister.” A voice came from the common room a few feet away. Natasha head popped over the edge of the sofa. “Hey, Y/N. How was the first day?”

“Overwhelming.” You paused. “It’s going to take a day or two to absorb everything. It’s all good though.”

“Well, welcome to the crew.” She turned back to whatever was on her laptop.

The shared kitchen was empty. You paused by the entrance but Bucky took your hand in his. Giving him a quizzical look, you followed. Upon entering his suite, you paused. A small ‘aw’ may have slipped out.

Bucky cleaned up the normal stack of books and mission papers from the table. It now held two place settings with covered plates, wine glasses, candles, and a single rose. The room smelled amazing. Dim lights and mellow old music completed the scene.  

“What is all this?”  

His strong arms wrapped around you from behind. “You seemed really interested in that fancy place Pepper was talking about last weekend. I appreciate that you know it’s not my kind of place. So I thought, I could bring some of the place to you instead.”

You looked over your shoulder in surprise.  

“I just, um, Pepper may have helped out with arranging for the delivery. I just wanted to do something special for your first day here, working, I mean.” Bucky pressed his forehead into your hair, holding you tight.  

It took effort to loosen his grip enough to let you turn around. A moment passed before his blue eyes lifted to your face. You beamed. Taking his face in your hands, you kissed him, slow, wet, full of gratitude. “You’re amazing.”

“You like it.”

“I’m going suck your dick so hard.” You smirked. He laughed. “After dinner.” You amended. He laughed harder.

The meal wrapped up with a decadent dark chocolate and white chocolate mousse. Midway through your beef bourguignon your shoes hit the corner, freeing your toes to rub on his legs. By the time you were eating the mousse, you were curled on the sofa, half in his lap and tasting the chocolate on each other’s lips.

Bucky trailed sweet, sticky, open mouth kisses down your neck. His hand massaged your inner thigh, slowly inching upward. “I want you to stay the night, Doll.”

You hummed, losing yourself to the sated feeling of a great meal, good wine, and the wonderful things Bucky did to your body. His mouth caught yours, drinking in your kiss, tongues dancing, pulling a moan from you. Shifting up to straddle his waist, you tugged at his shirt, throwing it aside to expose his power chest.

“You gonna stay?” He asked again.

“Yeah, Buck. I’ll stay tonight.” You smiled, silently wondering at his odd tone. It wasn’t unusual for you to stay the night at one or the other’s place. You’d done it plenty of times in your short six week relationship.  

“You know,” he began unbuttoning your blouse. “You can stay here whenever you want, Doll. Even if I’m not here.”

“Wha-,” You leaned back to get a better look at his face. “What do you mean by that?”

He sighed, soft eyes studying your face. His fingertips ghosted over your neck, pushed the blouse off your shoulders, and traced circles on you skin. “I’ve got to leave out tomorrow. If we don’t want the mission to get bloody it may take a while. Couple weeks. Maybe more.” His thumb traced over your bottom lip. “If you want to stay here, maybe, while I’m gone… you’re welcome to. I’ve already told FRIDAY to grant you access. You can come up anytime. Especially if you’re working late. I don’t want you having go all the way home by yourself. I mean, if you want to. It would make me feel better knowing you’re somewhere safe. There’s space. You could keep some things here.”

He was rambling. Bucky Barnes did not ramble. He couldn’t stop himself. Nerves just kept pushing words out.

You covered his lips with your finger. Excitement bubbled through your chest, but it couldn’t come out. It lodged there, stuck. You chest too tight with emotion. This man, this fiercely independent and private man, just offered you the digital equivalent to a key to his home. This sanctuary of his, he protected so vehemently that Stark wasn’t allowed surveillance. He’d even told you once Steve, his best friend, never came in without permission.  

Swallowing hard, you kissed him, pouring all the emotion you could into it. “Thank you.” You whispered.  

Bucky knew then. You understood. He smiled.  

You rolled your hips into him. “Tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah, we’ve only got,” he glanced at the clock. “Nine hours and twenty six minutes before I have to report.”

Biting his earlobe, you murmured, “Is that enough time?”

A squeal escaped your lips when he stood, hold you up. Your legs went around his waist. Still not used to his super-soldier strength, being manhandled by brought butterflies to your stomach. Bucky stalked into the bedroom, tossing you down on the mattress with a playful bounce.  

“Best hurry out of those clothes, Doll. Clock’s ticking.” He shed clothes, smiling at you with a wicked grin all the while. You didn’t quite have your pants kicked off, so he yanked them free and tossed them at the wall over his shoulder.  

Your laugh melted into something deeper as Bucky’s hands slid up your legs. His mouth ran a wet trail along your right leg. He lifted it to rest on his shoulder as he nipped his way across your inner thighs. Hot wet tongue, rough beard, along smooth sensitive skin had you soon panting. His fingers brushed against your folds, pushing you open and laying you bare for him. Slick, pink and swollen, Bucky’s eyes went dark at the sight.

First his breath washed over you, searing and feather light. The sight of his eyes looking back at you, desire blown, seared into your brain. His mouth fell upon you, lapping and rubbing, tongue heavy and soft then firm and demanding. Lips suckling at your clit until the tension pooled and moans poured from your mouth. 

He danced you right to the edge, only to pull away, kissing your thigh and stroking your body. You whined. “Fuck, that’s not fair.”

“What do you,” he ran his tongue across ultra sensitive flesh, “want?”

“I want your fingers to fuck my cunt. Uh, god. I want that gorgeous mouth on me until I come all over your face.”

Bucky growled, hips involuntarily rubbing into the mattress. He loved the dirty words that fell from your mouth. The sound of your lust filled breath drove him mad. His mouth closed over you again, he hummed with pleasure at your cry of “Oh, fucking hell, that’s it!”

Fingers pumping in you clenching cunt, mouth and tongue attacking your clit, you pulled at his hair. Words spilled from your mouth without thought. “Shit. Oh fuck. Bucky, you’re so fucking good.”  

He pulled away again.  

“No! Fucking hell, please, Bucky!”

The most sinful, wicked chuckle rumbled from his mouth across your sex just as he attacked you with enthusiasm. Vulgar slurps and lapping. Delighted moans and hums. Fingers curling and drawing at your g-spot.  

“Bucky!” You orgasm crashed into you, shaking your body, whiting out your mind, flooding Bucky’s face.  

Feeling him crawl up your body, you tried to focus. An amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Gonna live, Doll?”

“Fuck me, yes.” You smiled, but still couldn’t move.  

“Gladly,” He strong hands flipped you over, pulling your ass up to him. His cock slipped in, stretching and filling you balls deep, with one powerful thrust. “Goddamn, you feel good.”

He moaned, panting, as his pumped in to you, hands digging into your hips. Flipping hair to the side, you looked back at him, strong and powerful. His hair fell in his eyes. Mouth dropped open. He watched himself slide in and out.  

“So funking sexy,” you breathed.

Bucky’s eyes rose to meet yours, heavy and intense. He quickly flipped you over, draping your knees over his forearms and pulled your hips up to meet his. He thrust into you with strong, hard strokes. His metal thumb skimmed over your clit.  

Watching every move, every flush and quiver of your body, he memorized every erotic detail. Massaging your own tits, pulling at your nipples, he groaned. “Fuck, Doll, so beautiful. Feels so, ah, good.”  

Your hips tilted and the drag of Bucky’s cock pushed you to the edge again. He knew, watched your chest flush, felt your legs twitch. “Come for me, Doll. Ah, fuck baby, come with me.”

You did. He slammed into with a curse. Your body flooded with intensity, sensations overwhelming. Bucky fell forward and kissed you, messy and lazy.  

He nuzzled your neck. “Mmm, that’s a good start to the night.”

You laughed, not letting him pull away just yet. “You plan on fucking me into a coma?”

“Hm” He agreed, already stirring again. God bless his enhancements.

“You really don’t mind if I’m here when you’re gone?” You had to admit sleeping in a bed that smelled like him would be a wonderful thing.

“Really.” He kissed a line down your neck and across your shoulder.

“Am I going to find any weird kinky porn and sex toys?” You teased.

He laughed, taking your arms and pining you down. “Do you want to?”

You only arched a brow at him.

* * *

You phone rang making you jump. Answering it right away, “Hey.”

“Hey, back” Bucky’s smooth voice rumbled across the line. “Did I wake you?”

“No, just, um, getting ready.” You bit your lip.

“Ready for what, Doll?” You silence stretched. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’m at your place.”

“Okay.”

“I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.” It’d been six days since he’d left. “What are you doing?”

He could hear it in your voice, you knew it. “I haven’t changed the pillow cases. They still smell like you.”

“M-hmm”

“And, I kind of stole one of your black tee shirts.”

“You wearing it now, Doll?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?” He breathed.

“No. Nothing.” Your purred.

“Okay, your in my bed, wearing just my tee shirt. You miss me. Baby, is your pussy dripping for me?”

“Yes.”  

“You touching yourself?” Bucky leaned back against the headboard in his crappy hotel, hand cupping his balls and rubbing the tip of his hardening cock. “Tell me.”

“Once I got up here, I couldn’t stop thinking about how you make me feel. You mouth on my body. Your hand on me, in me. It was so strong. I used the shower, washed myself with everything that smelled like you. The shower head wasn’t enough. I was aching. I was thinking about the time you fucked me up against the bathroom counter. I could see you, the look on your face while fucking me hard. God, Baby, I was so worked up.”

“What’d you do about it, Doll?” His hand now stroked himself more firmly.

“I, ah,” You breathed, touching yourself again despite your recent release. “I had to touch myself, had to pump my fingers into my cunt, thinking of you. I’m so wet.”

“Now?”

“Now. I laid here and thought about you. How I want to run my tongue over your abs. Want take your heavy cock in my mouth, taste you, feel your hands in my hair. Want you to fuck my mouth like you did before you left.” He panted as you spoke. “I want you to turn me over and slam your cock into me. Rough and hard, making my scream.” He growled. The fingers between your legs sped up. “Want to feel your mouth on my neck, on my tits. God, when you fucking suck my tits, my cunt just soaks.”

“Doll, when I get home, I’m going to spank your perky ass for this.”

“Fuck, yes.” You moaned. He’d given your as a smack, but the idea of more made you insides clench. “You going to punish me for teasing you? For telling you I’m laid out on your bed, legs open and fingers deep in my cunt. Are you, ah, going to spank me for coming without you?”

“Holy shit, Doll.” Bucky could see it. “Are you about to come, baby?”

“Yes,” You panted. “So, un, so fucking close.”

“I’m going to bend you over and fuck you hard, ah, squeeze those gorgeous tits, and play with that yummy little clit until you’re screaming. Uh, when you come, fuck, it’s, ah, amazing.” He moaned. You knew the sound. He was there. He was coming.

You moaned over the receiver as the quivered of another orgasm took over your body.

Bucky hummed into the phone. “Fuck, Doll. I was just calling to say ‘hey’ but this was so much better.”  

Laughing you rolled over, head on Bucky’s pillow, cradling the cell phone. “Anytime. You’ve got my number.”    

[cakesunflower]

Quiet Hours [College!Luke AU] Ch. 12

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Chapter 12

BEING A RESIDENT advisor not only meant making sure all of the residents under their responsibility were following the building rules, but also coming up with events to keep them involved and have a good time. Events like movie nights, a few hours scheduled for baking, a gaming night and other types of fun things were planned for throughout the school year, and while Ophelia was looking forward to them, she wasn’t completely excited for what they had planned today.

Tonight was a scheduled event for the residents of her floor, planned by herself and the resident advisor from the other side, Clarke Taggart. It was a Battle of the Sexes game they planned, boys versus girls with rounds of multiple choice questions, fill in the blanks, and charades. When Ophelia got to the basement lounge of their apartment building, she was happy to see that everyone had shown up—it paid to be well-liked resident advisors. And while she was excited to have everyone participate, she was hoping to God that the girls would win.

Because if the girls lost, then the R.A. from the opposing side got to pie the losing one right in the face and the last thing Ophelia wanted was coconut cream pie going up her nose.

“I’m probably not going to get any question right,” Tanya said as she sat down on the floor in front of one of the couches on the right side, letting out a slow breath. Looking up at Ophelia, who stood in front of her, she added, “get ready to probably get pied in the face.”

The resident advisor’s eyes narrowed, crossing her arms over her chest as she wore her red and black R.A. fitted collared shirt. No way was she potentially getting pie on any of her regular shirts. “There’s lots of pies—if I get pied, so do you,” she threatened with a pointed look.

Some of the other girls sitting in hearing range snickered as Tanya huffed, and Ophelia offered her a sweet smile before turning and walking away. Music was playing through the lounge from one of the TVs mounted on the wall and as Ophelia talked with Clarke, the male R.A. playfully taunting her on how he couldn’t wait to shove pie in her face, she caught sight of a group of people entering the lounge from the elevators.

Her neighbors walked in and Ophelia’s eyes immediately went to Luke without her consent, watching as he laughed at something he and the boys were talking about while shoving Michael away from him with a shake of his head. The mere sight of his smile had Ophelia’s heart jumping into her throat and as he ran his fingers through his curly hair, Ophelia wanted to do the same, especially when he made the sounds he did when she did so.

Clarke was going on about the questions that he had made up for the girls to answer, and Ophelia really was trying to listen to what he was saying but her eyes remained on the blue eyed Australian. She was nodding along and smiling at whatever Clarke was saying and it was like her fixated gaze had burned a hole in Luke’s skin because suddenly he was glancing over in her direction, and the smile on his face melted into that boyish smirk that always knotted her insides rousingly.

She quickly looked away, forcing herself to focus on Clarke’s words of showing off how he had picked questions about cars and sports that only people avidly interested in the subjects would know. “You know girls can be interested in cars and sports too, right?” Ophelia pointed out, thinking of Penny O’Brian, who was one of her residents who knew everything about cars since she was obsessed with them.

Soon enough when everyone was gathered and the music had been lowered a little bit, Ophelia and Clarke gathered all the residents as they split into boys and girls seated on either side. Ophelia set her laptop up on a spare chair, connecting it to the TV to bring up the Google Slideshow she and Clarke had mutually created with the several questions for the residents to answer.

“Alright,” Ophelia smiled, standing next to Clarke as she clapped her hands together, getting everyone’s attention. She kept her gaze on anyone but Luke, whose eyes were fixated on her and she knew her knees would buckle if she looked at him, while she spoke. “So the first round’s multiple choice. We’re gonna go back and forth between the girls and guys while Clarke and I keep score. The second round’s fill in the blanks, and the last is charades.”

“By the end of the three rounds,” Clarke continued, gazes shifting over to him, “Ophelia and I’ll count up the scores and the winner will determine which R.A. gets pied in the face.”

That emitted excited cheers from everyone, people clapping as Ophelia shot a look to where all of the girls were sitting. “Don’t let me down, ladies,” she said, pointing at them warningly.

And so the game began, with the boys and girls answering a question at a time and Ophelia and Clarke keeping score, always making faces and mocking each other whenever their respective teams got a correct answer. By the end of it, the girls had ended up winning the round since a lot of the questions Ophelia had picked for the guys had to do with makeup, fashion designers, and the works. It was probably sexist, she knew, but it allowed them to win.

She cheered with the girls after delivering the scores, high fiving them before running back to stand next to a sulking Clarke. Ophelia was grinning as he prepared the Google Slides for the next round, her eyes involuntarily flickering over to Luke. He was sitting on one of the couches, right in between Ashton and Calum as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and hands linked together. His eyes, bright and blue, were on her as they had been for most of the night while he smirked at her. It was safe to say Luke was endearingly amused by Ophelia’s enthusiasm.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if I get pied in the face,” Ophelia muttered as the boys discussed the answer for their fill in the blank question. “I just washed my hair.”

“You’ll probably have to wash it again when the night’s over,” Clarke smugly said, arms crossed over his chest as he shot her a grin.

The rounds went on and by the time it was the last one, which consisted of charades, it had gotten quite loud as people were screaming out their answers towards the player trying to get them to guess what action they were performing.

By the end of it, Ophelia was glaring at Clarke with her arms crossed over her chest as the male resident advisor grinned triumphantly and cheered with the rest of the boys in the room, while the girls were sending apologetic looks to Ophelia. They had lost. “I hate my life,” she muttered as she took the hair tie on her wrist to gather her dark hair and tie it into a ponytail as Clarke pulled out one of the pies from its boxes.

She sat down on a chair in front of everyone gathered, looking utterly bemused and bothered as Clarke impishly grinned while everyone had their phones out to record. Ophelia mentally cursed her friends, who were also ready to film her getting pied in the face, as well as Luke and the boys who looked like they were enjoying this way too much.

“On the count of three!” Clarke called, standing to Ophelia’s right with the creamy pie in his hands. She braced herself, shoulders squaring and briefly wondering why the hell she agreed to this, as everyone began counting down. “One. . . Two. . . Three!”

Then came the pie.

Ophelia’s eyes immediately shut as the dessert came in contact with her face, the cream cold against her face and, like she had expected, some of it going up her nose as she heard the loud applause and cheering of everyone in the room.  Clarke was laughing right next to her, making sure to press the pie into her face briefly before pulling it away and allowing Ophelia to let out a gasp as to breathe again through her mouth.

She kept her eyes closed, mouth ajar because she definitely couldn’t breathe through her nose as the cheering continued and she reached her hands up to wipe the cream and coconut pie filling from her eyes. Ophelia licked her lips, tasting the admittedly delicious coconut taste before wearily blinking her eyes open, catching sight of everyone laughing in front of her and taking pictures and videos.

There was pie on her shirt, obviously, and some on her jeans as Clarke helpfully handed her a towel to wipe as much of it off as she could before washing it off. As she did so, she looked at the group in front of her and stated, “I hate all of you,” which only elicited more laughter.

She wiped most of the creamy pie off as everyone began getting slices of it for themselves, standing up to go to the bathroom to wash the rest off. As she departed from the group and entered the hallway leading to the bathroom, she continued wiping at the sides of her face with the towel when she heard, “you’re a good sport, R.A. Ophelia.”

Ophelia turned around and saw Luke walking towards her, an impressed smirk dancing on his lips. He took in her haphazard ponytail and how there was still coconut and whipped cream around her hairline, a bit on the corners of her lips, even some on her neck and along her jawline. Obviously she hadn’t done too well of a job wiping it off. She let out a light laugh, the towel in her hands as she said, “anything to keep my residents happy.”

Luke neared her, gaze flickering to her lips where he saw the whipped cream. He was now right in front of her, prompting Ophelia to tilt her head back to look up at him. Luke’s lower lip rolled into his mouth briefly before he asked, “how does the pie taste?”

The change in his face told Ophelia exactly what Luke was thinking, feeling the familiar flush on her cheeks as she returned, “pretty good. You should try a slice.”

Luke hummed, smirk widening. “Or. . .” he trailed off, leaning down and capturing her lips with his. Honestly, both of them knew Ophelia didn’t have enough remnants of the pie on her lips so Luke could have a proper taste, but neither of them cared as their lips moved together. Though, Luke could taste the sweetness in her mouth as his tongue slid against hers.

Ophelia’s heart was doing the familiar enthusiastic leaps as Luke kissed her, having not done so since the party three days ago. It was slow, unrushed and made her inhale sharply through her nose. They pulled away moments later and before Ophelia could open her eyes, Luke had tilted his head to his right and connected his lips to her jawline, kissing his way along the structure and licking up the sweet coconut and whipped cream left there.

The hazel eyed girl’s lips parted at the feel of Luke’s light sucking kisses and exploring tongue as his fingers hooked into her jeans belt loops to pull her closer. “Yeah,” Luke murmured against her skin, licking off the last of the pie and leaning back, hooded gaze meeting Ophelia’s mildly dazed one. “Pie tastes great.”

Ophelia tried to gather her wits quickly, swallowing as she blinked up at him and practically croaked, “you’re ridiculous.”

Luke’s grin widened, obviously satisfied with himself as he kept his fingers in the loops of her jeans while his thumbs stroked the skin right above the waistband. The subtle action sent an electrifying jolt right between Ophelia’s legs and she knew she had to step away from Luke as soon as possible before she decided to jump on him right then and there. “And you’re delicious,” he returned smoothly in that deep voice.

She let out a breathless laugh before pressing her hands against his chest and pushing him back, poking him in the chest as she did so. “I’m gonna go clean up,” Ophelia said as she began backing away, hands going to Luke’s wrists to pull his hands away from her jeans.

He watched her, not too keen on letting his hands leave Ophelia as he tilted his head back and unabashedly inquired, “can I help?”

His words prompted an amused laugh to escape Ophelia, finally managing to lose his grasp as she took a step back, a fond look crossing over her face at the endearing pout that settled on Luke’s lips as she said, “I can handle it myself.”

Luke’s eyes remained on her as she walked backwards into the hall that had the bathrooms, biting in the inside of his lower lip as she shot him one last grin before disappearing into the ladies’ room. Instead of heading back to where everyone else was in the lounge, Luke leaned against the wall to wait for Ophelia, shoving his hands in the front shared pocket of his hoodie as the back of his head came in contact with the wall and he stared up at the ceiling.

Honestly, Luke had no idea what he was doing—with Ophelia, specifically. They’ve slept together more than once and Luke more than enjoyed being with her so intimately. If Luke was being completely truthful—sex with anyone else didn’t feel as amazing and heavenly as it did with Ophelia. He was obsessed with the feel of her lips, the smoothness of her skin as his fingers ran over it, especially when he traced the stretchmarks on her sides that he thought made her body all the more enticing, and the taste of her he couldn’t get enough of.

Sex with other girls paled in comparison; Luke had tried hooking up with other girls twice after being with Ophelia the first time, but it just hadn’t felt right. Both times, all he could think of was pouty lips and hazel eyes that belonged to the pretty girl who lived right next door to him. And so as he leaned against the wall, staring up with his lower lip pulled into his mouth, Luke knew that being with any other girl in any type of capacity would not feel the same as it does when he’s with Ophelia. He wanted her, he knew that, yet he still found himself fighting the fact. Never had being with someone felt so right and natural.

And he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for that.

                                                        *****

Something was up with Luke, and Ophelia wasn’t sure if she should be worried or not—hell, she didn’t know if it was her place to be concerned. But then she thought about how he was making it blatantly obvious that he was avoiding her by sending back bland responses to her texts or not at all replying to her Snapchats. Even if they happened to run into each other in the hallway, Luke would give a quick smile before disappearing into his apartment, leaving Ophelia feeling confused and, frankly, a little bit insulted.

It was getting to be mid-October, and Luke’s been acting distant for the past couple of days—ever since they participated in the Battle of the Sexes. They weren’t in a relationship, they weren’t together save for those couple of nights, so Ophelia really had no right to invade his privacy and prod him as to what the hell was going on. Luke was confusing to Ophelia, especially since she didn’t really go around kissing the boys that she had occasional hook-ups with. The same couldn’t be said in regards to her and Luke.

“Don’t stress about it,” Isabelle suggested after hearing Ophelia’s somewhat worried words about Luke as they drove back from the local Wal-Mart in their college town. It was their turn for grocery shopping this week, so the trunk of Ophelia’s car was full of bags. “Boys are flaky and weird, he’ll be fine eventually.”

Ophelia snorted as she slowed the car down to a stop at a red light. “Easy for you to say; you don’t have to deal with men’s bullshit.”

“I know,” Isabelle responded, shooting her best friend a smug, wide grin. “Not being straight is amazing.” Ophelia rolled her eyes as she began driving once more, shaking her head. “But, I mean, come on. Why’re you concerning yourself with this? You guys slept together a couple of times, right? Isn’t he just someone you fuck on occasion?”

Ophelia ignored Isabelle’s somewhat vulgar words as she let out a sigh, eyes on the road as she drove. “Yeah, but,” she paused, pursing her lips momentarily, “it wouldn’t be a big deal if I could go ahead and have sex with someone else without thinking about Luke.”

Isabelle’s dark eyes widened slightly, not expecting that as she demanded, “what? What do you mean?”

“Like,” Ophelia huffed, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “It’s so weird and annoying but the thought of hooking up with some other guy is so. . . Blah.”

“Oh, God,” Isabelle let out a groan, throwing her head back against the headrest as she stared up at the roof of the car in agonizing thought before looking back at her best friend. “You didn’t catch feelings for him, did you?”

Ophelia’s heart thudded in her chest. “What? No!” she denied quickly—a little too quickly, because Isabelle’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as Ophelia swallowed inaudibly and kept her gaze on the road. She didn’t dare look her friend’s way. “He’s just. . . I don’t know. Different.”

She tried her best not to cringe at that because Ophelia knew how cliche and cheesy that sounded. Isabelle, however, didn’t even attempt at hiding her distaste as her face scrunched up in displeasure and looked at her friend as if she lost her mind. Shifting in her seat, Isabelle sat with her back against the door as she blinked in disbelief. “You didn’t just say that, Lia,” she scoffed with a slight shake of her head. “College boys don’t want relationships—they want the whole friends with benefits deal. Sometimes even without the friends part!”

“I know, I know!” Ophelia practically whined, leaning forward on the steering wheel briefly in distress as she pulled her car onto campus. She knew Isabelle had a point, that developing feelings for Luke was a bad idea because, really, he didn’t look like the type of guy to want to be in a relationship. Ophelia liked them; she liked being with someone exclusively, and she knew that was probably not what Luke wanted when the two of them first fell into bed together. But she hadn’t really been thinking about that—she was lost in the moment, lost in Luke, with no regard for what she may emotionally fall into later. “But the sex—oh, my God, it’s unbelievable with him, Iz. And he’s just so hot and so pretty. I didn’t think a guy could be pretty until I met Luke.”

Isabelle snorted dismissively. “Have you seen Chadwick Boseman?” Ophelia let out a laugh although she had to agree. “But seriously, Lia—I can’t believe you fell for that giraffe.”

Confusion flickered across Ophelia’s features as she drove into her parking spot by their apartment building, raising an eyebrow at Isabelle. “Giraffe?” she questioned bemusedly.

“Luke’s a giant. He reminds me of a giraffe.”

 Ophelia couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that, shaking her head in amusement as they got out of the car and walked to the back to get their shopping bags out of the trunk. They carried two bags each up to their apartment, depositing them on the kitchen counter as Isabelle said she’d come back downstairs after going to the bathroom. Ophelia went back down, using her keys to unlock the trunk because she honestly didn’t trust anyone to not steal their groceries if she left the trunk open.

There were still a couple of bags in there, but her eyes went directly to the sixteen pack of toilet paper that she knew Isabelle would absolutely refuse to bring up. So heaving a breath, Ophelia bent down and put her hands under the pack and lifted it, letting out a quiet groan at the weight of it. Why the fuck does toilet paper have to be so heavy? She ran her tongue over her upper teeth when she realized she’d have to put the pack on the ground to close her trunk and when she did so, she couldn’t help but just glare at the package now sitting on the ground.

“Okay, I can do this,” Ophelia muttered to herself, crouching to her knees and shoving her fingers under the pack once more, flinching slightly as the back of her fingers scraped against the ground before standing up with the package in her arms. “Shit,” she grumbled at the weight once she stood to her full height and turned to walk towards the building entrance.

“Do you need help?”

Ophelia stopped immediately at the familiar voice, looking to her right and seeing Luke slowly approaching her, dressed in his usual skinny jeans, a red shirt with his leather jacket on top and sunglasses covering his eyes. She could still see how he raised his eyebrow as he neared her, hearing the jingling of keys as he shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans. “Oh, uh—”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, or form a proper thought when Luke came right up to her and took the toilet paper package from her grasp, effortlessly holding it in his arms without strain. A sigh of relief automatically escaped her at the lack of weight, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear as she smiled up at him, squinting against the sun. “Thanks,” she said, pulling out her keys to open the trunk to carry some of the bags.

Ophelia pressed her lips together as she picked up the bags holding new air fresheners, Clorox wipes, and other bathroom cleaning supplies they were running low on. There were a couple of bags left which Isabelle could pick up when she came down, so she shut the trunk and walked towards the building with Luke, who walked easily despite the pack that she had struggled even lifting out of the car.

They were silent, almost uncomfortably so as they used their key cards to swipe in at the front desk before getting into the elevator to go up. Ophelia found it ridiculous how the elevator ride to the fourth floor seemed to drag on, her eyes on the digital numbers the higher they got, trying her hardest not to glance over at the tall Australian next to her. His familiar piney scent was dancing in her nose enticingly, and she couldn’t help but wonder once more what the hell was going on with Luke.

The doors slid open, Ophelia blinking in surprise at Isabelle standing on the other side, her dark eyes flickering over to Luke in confusion. She then looked back at Ophelia, who cleared her throat as she and Luke walked out of the elevator and she said to the dark skinned girl, “there’s only a couple of bags left. Can you lock the car?”

She handed Isabelle the keys, who took them and nodded before throwing her a quizzical look and nodding towards Luke. Ophelia merely shook her head before turning and following Luke down the hallway towards her apartment, offering the smallest of smiles as she stopped to unlock the door and let them in. Luke’s feet lightly thudded on the linoleum floor as he walked in behind her into the empty residence, and Ophelia dropped the bags on the kitchen counter where the rest of them were before turning to Luke.

“You can just leave that by the coffee table,” she said, gesturing to the toilet paper.

Luke nodded, bending down and dropping the pack before standing up straight and rubbing his hands on his jean clad thighs. His sunglasses rested atop his head as his eyes wandered around the room, as if this was his first time in Ophelia’s apartment. He felt out of place and Ophelia hated that she could so easily tell how he was feeling, and why he would feel like that in the first place. Why was he being so weird?

“Do you, uh, want anything to drink?” Ophelia found herself asking as she slowly walked out of the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at Luke who looked at her, blue eyes meeting green for the first time in a while.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” Luke shook his head, backing his way towards the door and Ophelia tried not to let the disappointment on her face show as he nodded behind him. “I should go, I’ve got a lot of, uh, homework to do.”

He was lying. Ophelia could easily tell with the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing rapidly in his throat and the way he was cracking his fingers even after no more sounds could be made. Luke gave a single wave before turning and opening the door, but before he could step out, Ophelia stepped forward and hastily asked, “Luke, are you—are you okay?”

The blonde paused and Ophelia noticed the way his broad shoulders tensed at her words, her fingers twiddling together as she watched Luke’s right hand brace himself on the doorframe while his other hand gripped the door handle. For a moment, she thought that he would turn around and tell her what’s been going on with him for the past few days; why his texts have been blunt and his eye contact brief and, for the love of God, why he stopped sending those charming smirks her way that made her knees buckle.

But Luke did none of that. No, he just glanced at her over the shoulder, yet another fleeting smile on his lips as he gruffly said, “everything’s good,” before walking right out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him and missing the way Ophelia’s expression melted into one of utter confusion and disappointment. It was just the other day where Luke left her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush—Ophelia would much rather prefer that than the sudden emptiness eating her up inside.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @softforcal @valentinelrh @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @calntynes @invisiblexcth @soulmatecashton @calumsmermaid @kchillout @thewackywriter @akacalciumhood @calumculture @ohhmuke @empathycth @flannelpunkcalum @poppedpins @novacanecalum @walkedhomealone @calistheloml @gettingjillywithit @hearts-to-the-sky @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-stan4lyfe @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @calumthoodsyonce @xhaileyreneex @rosecoloredash @asht0ns-world @cxddlyash @mysteriouslycali @lmao5sosimagines @monsteramongmikey @calteahood @5secondssofssummer @sublimehood @biwriting @findingliam-o @isabella-mae13 @canujustnotplease @vxidhood 

[sharethisgemwithme]

Zach and Grace Friday panel at Connecticon 2019

Some highlights and notes from the "Growing Up with Steven Universe" panel featuring Zach Callison and Grace Rolek, Friday afternoon at Connecticon 2019. There are some promo spoilers. Most quotes are approximate from the notes I took on my phone. There may be a recording of the panel, but the camera was blocked by the audience question line for a while and when I got to the front of the line, I saw it wasn't even pointed at Zach and Grace.

Sorted into broad categories:

Movie hype / spoilery talk

Host asked about the poster. Zach said he's kinda looked at it, but not studied it closely. Grace: "Spoiler alert, someone has a neck." Zach: "That's all anyone can talk about."

What's the hardest scene to record that you've done. Zach: "I hate to do this but the hardest scene I've done I did a few weeks ago and I can't talk about it for quite a while." [audience groans]

Audience member: "I have a question about the movie." Zach makes police siren noises, "Oh no the Cartoon Network spoiler police!"

Attempts to get even small details were denied. "So we saw you have a neck. Is your voice going to change?" [pause] Zach: "A week from today (Friday), there's a big panel and there's gonna be a bunch of stuff. I recommend you watch."

This was earlier in the day, when I met Zach in the autograph line. Me: "I'm really looking forward to all the stuff that's gonna come out next week in San Diego." Zach: "There's so much. I'm not going to be there, after six years of going, I need a vacation."

Zach makes ABUNDANTLY clear how excited he is for what's coming up, "I am thrilled with what they've done after CYM."

Reaction to the new gems from CYM. Zach: "Sunstone is one of my favorites now. Like an after-school camp counselor." Grace: "Obsidian is one of the hardest secrets I've ever had to keep on this show." They finished recording CYM in 2017!

Have you ever cried in the recording booth? Zach: "Over a dozen times. One time really badly... with something that hasn't come out yet."

What's the biggest theme you've taken from the show? Zach: "I'm really sorry to do this, but I'm gonna skip this question because the theme I take away is something that hasn't come up in the show yet." He says the show has become intensely personal to him and his experiences, both intentionally and unintentionally, and says if he accidentally gave hints as to upcoming themes, it wouldn't be fair to the crew. (This probably ties in with some of the stuff below under “Outside of SU”)

Favorites and funniest

What's the hardest scene to record that you've done. Among stuff that's aired, Zach: Storm in the Room. Connie: "Either Nightmare Hospital or Full Disclosure when Connie is like 'Stop ghosting me, Steven!' "

What are some funny moments from recording? The opening scene from "Winter Forecast", the directors INSISTED on real marshmallows, "nothing else would do". Grace: "And these were not small. There's jumbo and then there's novelty size." Zach: "They got novelty size." Grace: "I could barely fit one inside my mouth."

Favorite episode (this question might've had a "besides the Big Plot episodes" caveat).

Zach: "Onion Gang. Any of the weird Onion episodes."

Grace: "I realize this is an unpopular opinion but I love the Ronaldo episodes. I have a Keep Beach City Weird sticker on my laptop. I don't like having stuff that's too overtly Steven Universe because I don't like to toot my own horn, but KBCW is great because it's 'if you know, you know'." Zach: "It's a lifestyle."

That segued into talk about "Rocknaldo", which Zach thought was hilarious, especially the way CN trolled everyone with the Bloodstone promo. Grace "Was that the one where Ronaldo tried to kill someone in the basement?" Discussion brings up that's "Horror Club". Grace continues, "That was a great one, like what are we DOING? No one went to jail for this?"

Favorite songs:

First, ones that they did.

Zach said "Let's Only Think About Love". I think he added a second one, but my notes say “or” and then stop there so I think I moved on to the next bit and forgot what else he said.

Grace says "Of course 'Do it for Her'" but also that she loved providing background harmonies for "Escapism". "Aly and AJ was the first concert I ever went to, so to do back-up vocals for AJ was the greatest fangirl moment." (There’s been some confusion as to whether Zach and Grace had vocals on that song, it’s now clear that they did)

Then, overall. Zach immediately sings "It's over, isn't it? Isn't it over?" Grace grumbles that she can't take the same answer, so she throws out "Stronger Than You".

"Back in the start of the show, it was a lot more lighthearted. What's the funniest or weirdest line you had to record?" Zach IMMEDIATELY goes into voice: "A boy on the cusp of manhood can't spend the whole day wackering." Grace enjoyed her line from "Open Book": "Of course you like the ending, you LOVE schmultz."

Pivoting into the weirdness of early episodes, Zach says "Frybo and Cat Fingers were back to back, 5 and 6. I don't know how anyone stuck with the show after that."

What's the biggest theme you've taken from the show? Grace: "I think about Mindful Education all the time. Here Comes a Thought is such a great song but also an important mantra."

Other than Uncle Grandpa, what crossover would you like to do? Zach: "I wanna be the very best!" Audience cheers. Grace says she would've loved to do "Adventure Time".

This segues into a joke that people confuse Zach for Jeremy Shada (Finn), in some cases even when Zach is standing in front of a poster that says ZACH CALLISON. Grace says that her boyfriend loves the joke so much that Zach is listed in his phone as "Jeremy Shada".

Behind the scenes

What was it like seeing the show blow up the way it did? Grace: "I used to go on Tumblr and read all the posts, all the reactions people had, but after Jail Break... couldn't do that anymore." Zach: "I poke my head into a reddit every once in a while."

What's it like in the booth with the rest of the cast? Grace: "Deedee and Michaela always get to do the funniest things."

Discussion of how voice acting lends them a little more anonymity than live-action, and there's still a spectrum of how recognizable people are.

Grace recounts a story from earlier in the day, possibly on the way to that very panel. "The elevator was pretty crowded and I was able to get on but Zach wasn't. And as soon as it closed, one of the other people in the elevator was like 'Oh my god, Zach Callison almost got on the elevator with us!' And I was like 'Oh my god, that would've been so cool!'"

Both Zach and Grace recounted times when they've greeted stranger wearing SU apparel and gotten blank stares in response, like, "Uh, yeah, what's your point?"

Zach: "As of Sunday, I'm leaving the country to be a hobo for a bit." He's flying to Siberia, then taking a 62-hour train ride to get on a boat to Korea, where he plans to visit the Korean animation studio where SU is drawn (as seen in "Steven's Dream"), something almost no actors do (apparently Michaela was more or less the first to do so, for any show at all).

Sometimes Grace will have a lot of "catching up" to do with the plot. "One time Rebecca was like 'oh by the way Lars is pink now." Zach jokes, "Lars is pink, Ronaldo and Pearl are married, oh and Steven is dead."

Have you ever cried in the recording booth? Zach: "Over a dozen times." Grace says she has, sometimes in group records.

More joking around: "Yes, I'm Zach Callison, the voice of Onion. I'll be in my booth." "You should have a print that's just Onion." "With the flames behind him."

What were your auditions like? Grace: "I was reading the sides from 'Bubble Buddies', and Connie is worried she's gonna die with no friends and I was like 'This is a kids show? This is a show for children and I'm supposed to say these words?!'" She saw Rebecca Sugar's name attached to the show, which she recognized as a fan of Adventure Time, particularly Marceline "I'm edgy like her!"

Audience member starts her question: "Ohmygod, my heart is in my ass. Wait, can I say ass?" Grace: "You can say whatever you want, you're not under the thumb of Time Warner." Zach: "Technically, I've never signed any NDA. Oh hell, I'm leaving the country in three days. ACT ONE!" [laughter, and he does not continue with joke spoilers]

Outside of Steven Universe

Tell us about yourself outside of Steven Universe. Zach: "I'm a dirty rowdy hippie." He goes to music festivals barefoot (but not urban ones).

Zach talked about some of the over-the-top scenes he's been in or seen on "The Goldbergs", where he plays a minor recurring character, including one where the actual rain they were filming in wasn't enough, so the producers dumped thousands of gallons of additional rainwater on the cast.

Zach said he hasn't auditioned for anything new in a while (I think he said at least a year) because of burnout. Whenever SU may end, he's ready for a break. Following on with that, discussion of what a shitty industry Hollywood is, especially for kids.

Zach: "A lotta people (in this industry), their big break is a show they hate, and that kills me to think that. And it couldn't be further from the truth for anyone in SU. If I had booked a live-action sitcom that ran six seasons, I wouldn't be here. I'd be in a much darker place."

What would you be doing if not this?

Zach: "I enrolled in college, signed up for things, never went to class, and eventually dropped out. I never had any other plan." Ties into further discussion of what an absolute nightmare Hollywood is for kids, that some of his friends from high school are no longer around.

Grace: "I went to college for two years (she would've graduated this spring), trying to make sure I had a plan B lined up. But flying back and forth from San Francisco to Los Angeles was getting ridiculous and I realized I wasn't being fair to my plan A."

[huntertales]

Part Two: Don’t Get Too Preachy. (I’m No Angel S09E03)

Episode Summary: When Ezekiel tells Sam and Dean about a group of angels that are hunting Cas, the reader and the boys race to find their friend before the angels do. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,473.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

The next morning you and the boys were at the local police precinct that reported the crime of your dead pharmacist that was your next big lead in trying to find Cas’ latest whereabouts. You greeted the detective who was working the case with a lie that you were here on the behalf of the FBI to lend out a helping hand. While he led you up to his office, he told you about the strange details in the case that left him scratching his head. And the reason why you were here in the first place.

You stepped out of the elevator when all of you got up to the level in the building where his office was located, following behind him through the busy floor with other officers going about their day. "Damnedest thing if I ever saw. Vic had a stab wound, but it's not what killed him." The detective continued on. “It’s like his insides were—”

“Vaporized?” Dean cut off the man, giving him a word that might help describe what he saw a little better. The detective turned his head to give the older Winchester a sort of surprised look at how eerily accurate he was. Deans shrugged. “It’s been going around.”

“So, this guy was a pharmacist from Ohio?” Sam asked the detective.

“Apparently. Total family man, religious. One day, just hops in the S.U.V, takes off, dies under a bridge here from God knows what.” The detective said. You stopped at his desk so he could grab two large evidence bags filled with the victim's belongings and handed them over to you. "This is his stuff. Help yourselves.”

You smiled and mumbled a thank you, watching as he went on his business somewhere else so you and the boys could privately take a look at whatever sort of junk the pharmacist was carrying around. You dumped one of the bag’s contents onto the desk and took one glance to realize most of it wouldn’t be helpful for you. It was nothing more than a bunch of loose change, car keys, his wallet, phone and a pocket sized bible. You grabbed the bible and flipped through the pages with doubt that you were going to find anything useful in here. Dean took his chances with the man’s phone. He scrolled through the text messages and apps on his phone,  trying to find anything that might raise a few red flags.

“Anything?” You asked, tossing the bible back down to the table in defeat.

“Nothing weird. Crappy music, a lot of podcasts, all the same.” Dean said. “Reverend Buddy Bolye’s ‘Goin’ for glory hour.’”  

“Cop said he was religious.” Sam noted.

You leaned over to stare at the phone's tiny screen when Dean pulled up the reverend’s most recent podcast to see if it might be the least bit helpful in trying to figure out what happened. At first glance it seemed like the rest of the stereotypical religious crap people of faith watched. Some overweight middle-aged reverend preached with his open bible with a little too much enthusiasm about what he was saying, all while behind a backdrop that people could only wish was what was waiting for them at the pearly gates.

“Join me in a heapin’ helpin’ of glory, friends. When you’re in the presence of the divine, you’ll know it. And if you let yourself, you’ll hear it.” Dean didn’t seem to be the least bit impressed as you rolled your eyes from the mumbo jumbo the reverend was trying to preach to all of his followers. He fast forwarded to near the end of the podcast, presuming the rest was filled with the same kind of stuff. “So, remember, when angels come a-knocking, let ‘em on in.”

You furrowed your brow slightly from the context of the preacher’s words that might be taken a different way for a faithful person. There was more of a deeper meaning to those words,  you knew that for sure. “Angels can’t possess a human without permission, right?” Sam asked. You nodded your head. It seemed angels were starting to get desperate for a warm body to possess if they were using some sort of  propaganda to fool humans into saying the magical word. “So, what, they’re using this guy to find vessels?”

“It’s a willing audience. They’re all religious types like our pharmacist here.” You said. “Buddy Boyle was telling them to let the angels take them over.”

“Like body snatchers.” Sam said.

“How big a reach does this Boyle guy have?” Dean asked, wondering what kind of scale of angels might have over people they were able to reach.

Sam pulled up a new browser and typed in the podcast’s name into a search engine, hitting enter and clicking on the second link that popped up. You stepped closer to the computer and examined the map of the world on the reverend's official home page, your eyes wandering over the many, many red dots on the map. You let out a frustrated sigh from what this meant. He was more than just a local celebrity. The word of the Lord traveled all over the entire world, reaching anyone who has access to the internet. Which was just about everyone these days.

You and the boys shared a quick glance at one another before deciding you saw everything you needed. Sam clicked out of the browser and headed to the exit with you and his brother. Since this lead had done nothing more than wasting your time, you needed to figure out a new one quick.

+ + +

"Look, for the billionth time, we're just looking for some information, okay? We're not cops. I mean, do we look like cops?" Dean tried once again to reassure the four people of many more others weren’t in any sort of trouble. You decided to try your luck and check out the spot where the pharmacist was killed, hopeful that someone might have seen something. However everyone clammed up when you started asking questions. You and the boys had long ditched your fed suits in favor for your regular street clothes. But it wasn’t everyday people like yourselves go poking around in their living space. One of the homeless people nodded his head, mumbling a yes to Dean’s question. “Well, we’re not cops.”

“We just need to find a friend who’s in trouble.” You explained to them the real reason why you were here so they would understand they weren’t going to get busted for trying to survive. “He might have been here the night that guy was killed. Were any of you here then?”

“Maybe.” Your eyes jumped over to a man who came over to join the conversation, probably wondering why a couple of people were asking questions. He seemed hesitant, unsure of your reasons for finding the man were sincere.

“Oh, okay. Uh, he’s got dark hair, blue eyes, a little out of it.” Dean gave a description of the person you were looking for, hopeful it might jog the man’s memory and help point you in the right direction. The man thought about it for a moment, only he was drawing blanks.

“He maybe called himself Clarence?” Sam added. It seemed the name made him remember the face his brother described. The man nodded and smiled slightly, making it seem they had some sort of contact while Cas was here. “You two talk?”

The man shrugged, “Not much.”

“And…?” Dean trailed off, silently hinting for more information he knew the man was withholding.

“I think he was on the run.” The man said.

“You see him with the vic?” Sam asked him. You cleared your throat ever so quietly, making the younger man correct himself from the lingo that sounded awful familiar to what a cop would say. It was the exact image you were trying to steer clear from. “Uh, victim?”

“No.” The man said. You noticed that he was starting to become hesitant about telling you more about what happened to Cas from the more you asked. You gave him a friendly smile in some sort of attempt to put his mind at ease that you weren’t going to hurt Cas. It was the exact opposite of what you were trying to do. “He went off to sleep in another part of the resort.”

The man tried to leave the conversation at that as he walked off. You and the boys followed right after him, not letting him leave so quickly. “Where?” Dean asked.

“He’s not there now.” He said, tossing the garbage bag he was holding into the pickup of some old rusty truck you would be surprised to if it was still able to run.

“Where’d he go?” You pressured him for a straight answer.

“I saw him running from under the bridge to the highway.” He said.

Dean waited a few seconds for the man to add on any sort of details as to the direction of where Cas might have gone. However all he got in return was silence, making him grow annoyed at the game of twenty questions all of you seemed to be playing for a simple response. “You gonna pay us for all this teeth pulling? Where was he headed?”

“He flagged a truck heading north. Detroit, probably.” The man said. You furrowed your brow at the location that sounded a hell of a lot like a guess, but he sounded sure enough of himself that he was right. Truck was marked 'Motor City Meats.'”

+ + +

A hunter’s diet wasn’t filled with nutritious meals and five servings of vegetables. You were lucky half the time if you managed to find a piece of fruit that wasn’t all the way rotten when you made a pit stop at the gas station for a quick meal. Since living in the bunker you were able to have more food in the kitchen that wasn’t going to lead you into an early death. There was only so much fast food and microwaveable meals someone could digest over the years. You missed the opportunity of having a home cooked meal that was now more accessible since you had a roof over your head. However you were never going to deny yourself a chance at indulging in your favorite junk food for the road to Michigan for the long drive ahead of you.

You snuck a hand inside the plastic bag Dean was carrying for your food as the three of you headed out of the convenience store and to the quiet streets. You smiled in amusement as Sam took it upon himself to lecture his brother about his unhealthy choice in pie as he read the list of ingredients that weren't good for a human body. Sam tried his hardest to treat his body well, choosing healthier options when he could. However Dean was a bottomless pit. You had no idea how he still managed to look the way that he did with the diet that he had kept up for all of these years.

“Look at these chemicals.” Sam said, shaking his head. “Do you even read the label?”

“No. I read ‘pie.’” Dean snatched his beloved dessert out of his brother’s hand and shoved it back into the bag for safekeeping to enjoy later tonight. You quietly chuckled at their banter that was never short of amusing in your eyes. “The rest is just ‘blah, blah, blah.’”

“Okay, listen, when we hit Detroit, I say we start with the homeless shelters.” You suggested the next plan of action as you took another bite of your food. You and the boys kept on walking, passing by someone who was using a pay phone on the street. “If that doesn’t lead to anything, then we should hit up the encampments, soup kitchens.”

“Yeah, and I can check for vagrancy arrests.” Sam added another possible way you could track your friend down.

“Yeah, and, you know…” Dean mimicked his head exploding. “odd deaths.”

You crossed the street and headed down a dark alley, casually going about your business as one might think. You weren’t stupid. You knew there was someone following you. The guy who was at the payphone was now several feet behind you, trying to make it seem he was going about his night. You got suspicious when he happened to be going the same direction you and the boys were. You crumbled up the food wrapped and tossed it into the dumpster and reached for the demon knife tucked in the waistband of your jeans. When the man turned down the exact same alley expecting the three of you to be there, he stopped when he noticed there seemed to be nobody around except for himself.

He stood there for a moment as he looked around the alleyway, trying to figure out how three people managed to vanish into thin air. One of the things a hunter learns quickly on was how to figure out if someone was following them. And confront the person who was stupid enough to go after someone like you. The man took a few more steps down the alley, wondering where you might be hiding. While he was thinking to himself was when the boys made their move. They slammed him up against a chained fence, pinning him down with an angel blade pressed against his throat. He realized that he was up three against one. Didn’t matter what he was, there was no way he was getting out of this alive if he didn’t answer a few questions of yours.

+ + +

Reapers were your least favorite kind of people to deal with. The few times you crossed paths with one trouble always followed. One of you was always fighting to save your life, and then there was that one time where you made a deal with Death himself to get Sam’s soul back from the cage. The poor reaper, Tessa, was stuck with you for twenty-four hours. She wasn’t a particular fan of you from the stunts you pulled that made her job harder. While you bumped into her by pure coincidence, the one who had been trailing you and the boys seeked you out for a particular reason.

You managed to get some information out of him after you went somewhere a little more private. The reaper, who was known as Maurice, flinched in pain when Dean slashes him once again with the angel blade when he wouldn’t properly cooperate with you. His chest was covered in several masks with his wrists cuffed to some exposed pipe, rendering him under your mercy. You learned so far that the angels were asking a favor from the reapers to find a certain someone.

“So, Maurice. You bounty hunters are like Delta Force reapers. Why would they sic you on Cas?”

“He warded himself.” Maurice said.

“Naomi hire you?” Dean questioned the reaper, wondering if the angel you had only met once before was behind all of this.

“You really are out of the loop.” Maurice chuckled at the lack of knowledge either one of you knew. You furrowed your brow slightly, wondering why that was that was so funny to him. “Naomi's dead. Resting in pieces.”

“So then who's running things now?” Sam asked. Maurice responded with the silent treatment. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from how complicated he was making things for himself.

“Answer!” Dean shouted at the reaper, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

“Her protégé, Bartholomew.” Maurice responded unwillingly a few seconds later. “He's an up-and-comer.”

“So he figured we'd lead you to Cas.” You said, connecting the dots on your own. It was a typical tactic trying to get their hands on their least favorite sibling. They must’ve known you would go looking for Cas after he dropped off the map. But they were stupid enough to believe you would eventually catch on. You found yourself circling back to a name Maurice mentioned a few seconds ago. “This Bartholomew, is he the one who’s organizing the angels?”

You raised your brow slightly when the reaper continued to give you the silent treatment, leaving your question unanswered. You gave him a moment before Dean slashed Maurice over the chest once again.

“That's all I know.” Maurice admitted to you. Dean stepped forward and placed the tip of the blade against the reaper’s throat. The sharpness of the blade caused him to flinch and tilt his chin upwards, forcing him to look the older Winchester in the eye, and for him to realize all of this would be child’s play compared to what you could do to get more information. But he wasn’t scared. “You can kill me. It won't matter. If I don't find Castiel, there are others that will. But do what you want.”

Dean decided he would do just that. You weren’t the least bit fazed by the mentions of angels and reapers on your tail, you had something hunting you almost all of the time. You were already expecting the extra competition. You and the boys had a mutual agreement Maurice wouldn’t be much help to you. So it seemed useless to keep him breathing. Dean shoved the angel blade into the reaper’s chest, killing him without a second thought. You might be chased by angels and reapers, and they might be able to track you, but it didn’t mean you were going to give up so easily.

+ + +

You and the boys spent almost all night driving around town, following every possible lead you could think of with the hopes that Cas might be hiding somewhere safe from harm. All it turned out to be was wasted effort on your part. He was nowhere to be found, making you start to fear for the worst that you might be too late. Dean pulled up into a parking lot and shut off the engine. The sun had risen over an hour ago and you were wasting time. Either Cas was heading somewhere new, or a reaper managed to get their hands on him.

You casually looked out the backseat window and to your outside surroundings, wondering if you might get lucky and find the man wandering around. When you found nothing you turned your gaze straight forward, where you met eye contact with Dean. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion as to why he was staring at you. “What’s up?”

“We've been chasing our tails all night. No Cas. ‘What's up?’ I'm fried.” Dean said. He was tired of doing things the hard way. There was a potential lead neither one of you had tried yet. Time was running out, and there wasn’t much else Dean could think of to find his best friend.  “I think it's time for plan B.”

“I'm not following.” You mumbled, looking between the boys when you heard Sam let out a sudden sigh of frustration from what his brother was implying. It seemed he managed to catch on, but you were left in the dark.

“I'm letting you know.” Dean spoke his words deliberately slow and meaningful, as if he was trying to tell you something in secret.

“O-okay.” You said. You were officially lost as to what the hell was going on. “Um, letting me know what?”

“I'm letting you know.” Dean was more slower and delberite with his words, as if he was trying to get you to unlock some memory in your head that you were suppressing. Or he was trying to talk to someone who you didn’t know was there.

You kept staring at him like he had grown a second head, that was, until your eyes suddenly flowed a bright blue, your expression changed as you sat up straighter in your seat. Dean managed to get through to the person who he was trying to reach. Ezekiel was now officially behind the wheel. And he didn’t look too pleased about it. “What is it, Dean?”

“We need your help.” Dean said, admitting defeat after brushing off the angel’s offer a few days before.

“That is flattering. We've been through this.” Ezekiel said. “I cannot be making public appearances.”

“Oh, I understand that. I'm not asking you to walk the red carpet, Zeke, okay? I need your help finding Cas.” Deans stated the real reason why he was speaking to him in the first place.

“It cannot be done.” The angel said. “He is warded.”

“I know that, but maybe you can use your intergalactic, hyperspace, X-ray eyeballs to find someone else.” Dean said. The way he explained things to the angel got a lack of uncertainty of what he was talking about. “There might be a reaper for rent on his ass. Could you find them?”

“I could try.” Ezekiel said.

Ezekiel shut his eyes and put his concentration on tuning into angel radio to eavesdrop on the chatter among his siblings. The boys anxiously waited for a response that was their only chance at finding Cas. Ezekiel kept to his word, giving a location that wasn’t too far from here. If Dean was fast enough, all of you would be able to get there in record time. When you came back around, it was like no time had passed at all, but you were confused when Dean turned the engine back on and slammed his foot on the gas.

[Next Part]

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[rosemerriam]

Heiress and the Bodyguard

Summary: Heejin, the heiress of the widely successful company, ViSual, is being given a bodyguard. To avoid any bad rumors, her mothers have given Heejin a bodyguard her age. A little fic with some angst and a wee bit of fluff at the end. 1.9 k words.

 Heejin's breathing stilled. Her ear in her hand, trying to listen.

 "I'm telling you that it's necessary!"

 "And I'm telling you that you're overreacting! You're worrying too much!"

 "Worrying too much? You're not worrying enough! We're talking about our children!"

 "Hey, Heejin!" Yeojin's loud voice broke Heejin's concentration. "What're you doing by the door?"

 Heejin shot right up, speed walking away from the suddenly quiet room. She dragged Yeojin away but not fast enough before one of her mothers stopped her.

 "Heejin, where do you think you're going with Yeojin?" Heejin turned to see Haseul leaning by the doorway with her arms folded. Vivi was still inside the room. Heejin could have sworn she was ironing a dress in attempts to relieve any anger.

 "Oh, us?" Heejin pointed at herself, putting on her most innocent looking face. "Oh, well, Yeojin said she wanted more yogurt so I was gonna take her to the convenience store to get some."

 "Uh-huh, nice try," Vivi called out from the room.

 Haseul let out a sigh and walked back into the room. Her daughters trailed after her and took a seat on a couch opposite of Vivi ironing and Haseul standing.

 "So your mother and I were thinking," Haseul let out another sigh, "and, well, that is--"

 "You need a security guard."

 Haseul looked at Vivi exasperated.

 "Yes," Haseul said. "Um, so, your mother and I will begin looking for someone to that, that being making sure you two stay safe. You know the world is a, uh, very dangerous place and well, Heejin, with all your modeling and commercial gigs and everything else--uh, your promoting of the company!"

 Heejin could feel herself zoning in and out of Haseul's ramblings. Yeojin looked over at Heejin and let out, "So what type of security guard are we getting? Are they, like, gonna be this big ol' guy with crazy ass muscles?"

 "Yeojin, don't say ass in front of me," Vivi said, her eyes not even looking up. She took the pile of clothes and folded them into a neat little stack for Haseul to take and put away. When Haseul left the room, Vivi began to pace slowly in front of the two. "First off, they aren't going to be a 'big ol' guy.' I am not comfortable with a man being around you two all day long. And some strange man following you two around, the media may get some strange thoughts. Strange thoughts will lead to the tainting of our company's image."

 "So who are you going to hire then?" Heejin asked, feeling impatient.

 "A girl. Maybe someone around your age. The media isn't going to suspect something strange if the guard is a girl near your age. They'll just think you two are friends dragging Yeojin around."

 Vivi paused to look at Heejin and Yeojin to see if they had any objections. They looked back at her blankly. She could practically hear the elevator music in their heads.

 "I'm going to find your mother. We'll begin looking for applicants. I'll try to get someone who is near your school's so that they can pick you two up." The serious mother left the room, leaving the two behind.

 "So..." Yeojin leaned close to Heejin. "You were saying something about getting me yogurt?"

 "Whatever. You want to go get some now?"

 "Yeah! Oh! We can get some snacks too, right?"

 "Sure. You're lucky all these commercial deals are paying me well."

 "Ha! Yeah, I am!"

 Yeojin kept rambling all over the place on the way to the nearby convenience store.

 "...like I'm telling you, Hana's snail is no way near cool as mine!"

 "Is that so?" Heejin mused.

 "Yeah! Listen, my snail is, like, way faster than hers so obviously mine is gonna be cooler. It's just science!"

 "Obviously," Heejin smirked at her little sister.

 They walked into the convenience store. Yeojin immediately ran to the snack sections. Heejin took her time getting their drinks.

 "...are there really no job openings?" Heejin turned around to see a girl her age talking to the cashier.

 "Listen, sorry kid but like I said last month, we aren't hiring," the cashier shrugged. His eyes softened. "Look, I really am sorry. Maybe try the place down the street again?"

 Heejin could see the girl blink away her tears as she let out a shaky sigh.

 "Oh? Heejin, what are you doing?" Yeojin's loud voice broke Heejin out of her trance.

 "Oh, sorry," she looked away from the girl. "Did you want juice or the drink with the jellies?"

 "The jellies, please!"

 "Yeojin, you have to use your inside voice." Heejin scolded Yeojin's loudness.

 "Oh! Sorry!"

 "Yeojin..."

 "Oh! Sorry..." the apology this time coming out as a harsh whisper.

 They paid for the snacks and walked back. Each step Heejin took was the memory of the crying girl slipping away. Until one day after school…

 "Heejin!"

 Heejin turned around to see a very familiar face waving to her.

 "Ah! Hello! You are...?" Heejin's head tilted in confusion.

 "Oh! I'm Kim Hyunjin," the girl bowed slightly. "I'm going to be your bodyguard from this day on."

 "Ah, I see," Heejin smiled at the girl. She thought about bringing up how she had seen her before but thought better of it. It would only make things awkward between the two. "Alright, well we have to go pick Yeojin up from school and then from there it's a modeling gig for a perfume company."

 "Yes, ma'am. Your mothers sent for a car so that we don't have to walk."

 "Oh, please don't call me ma'am. We're in the same grade, aren't we? Yellow uniforms mean Junior Year."

 "Right," Hyunjin chuckled nervously. "So what would you prefer me to call you?"

 "Heiress Heejin," she replied with the most cheesy grin.

 "Okay, Heiress Heejin," Hyunjin said with a blank face.

 "Wait--seriously?"

 "Of course, Heiress Heejin is the one I am going to be with the most and so whatever she wishes, I will grant."

 "Oh goodness..." Heejin got into the car. It wasn't any fun if the new employee didn't have a good reaction to her teasing.

 The driver stopped in front of Yeojin’s school where Yeojin stood.

 “Where were you? I was standing there for two hours?”

 The two girls made room for Yeojin in the car.

 “‘Two hours’?” Heejin questioned. “I thought your school ended 10 minutes after mine.”

 “Yeah, except every other Tuesday, c’mon, Heejin,” Yeojin said exasperated.

 Heejin felt stupid when she realized that Yeojin was correct.

 "Whatever, let's just go to the photo shoot already; it's rude to keep all the staff waiting," she snapped at Yeojin. Heejin untangled her earbuds. She listened to her playlist, daydreaming until they reached the building.

 "Miss Heejin! Welcome, your changing room is right this way." An intern greeted them when Heejin stepped out of the car.

 "Thank you, lead the way." 

Hyunjin and Yeojin followed after Heejin.

 "So what's your name? I don't think I recognize you."

 —-

 The photoshoot was going fine. While the staff was preparing to change sets, Heejin went back to her changing room.

 “Hyunjin?”

 “Yes, Heiress Heejin?”

 “Oh, you’re still calling me that. Never mind that, could you get me some coffee? I’m feeling especially drained from this shoot.”

 “Of course.”

 Hyunjin left the room.

 Yeojin spoke up. “Why is she calling you that?”

 “I told her to call me that as a joke but now she won’t stop.”

 “Sheesh.”

 “I know.”

 The intern comes into the room.

 “Miss Heejin, there’s going to be a bit of a delay until we’re ready for you again.”

 “Ugh, are you kidding me?” Heejin shouted. She gasped at the harshness of her words. “I am so so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

 “It’s fine,” the intern said but it did nothing to reassure Heejin.

 Heejin slouched into her chair.

 “Yikes, that went well,” Yeojin said from the back of the room.

 “Shut up, go play somewhere else,” Heejin said, irritated.

 She could feel another mood swing coming so Yeojin left. As Yeojin was leaving, she bumped into Hyunjin. The bump caused Hyunjin to spill a hot coffee onto herself.

 “Oof, sorry about that, Hyunjin. You could give her that other coffee.”

 “Right.” Hyunjin went into the room attempting to ignore the scalding hot coffee on her uniform.

 Heejin put on a plastered smile when she turned to face Hyunjin.

 “Some coffee, finally,” Heejin sighed in relief. She took the coffee from Hyunjin but her face contorted.

 “Is something wrong, Heiress Heejin?” Hyunjin didn’t think she could take more hits from the universe.

 “What type of coffee is this?” Heejin’s voice barely above a whisper.

 “Well originally that coffee was meant for me but som—“

 “What type of coffee is this?” Heejin repeated her question. Her voice was slowly rising.

 Hyunjin wasn’t sure what to say to make Heejin calm down.

 “It’s an iced caramel frappe, Heiress Heejin.”

 Heejin was silent for a second, but only for a second before all hell broke loose.

 “An iced caramel frappe? What am I, a middle schooler? And for goodness sake, would you quit calling me that? I said that to tease you. Look at how that turned out. God, the one thing, the one thing, I ask you to do and you can’t even do that right. I asked for some coffee, not some poor excuse of sugar disguising itself as a proper pick-me-up!”

 A knock on the door prevented Heejin to continue her temper tantrum.

 “Miss Heejin? We’re ready for you now.”

 A beat of silence.

 “Okay, coming!”

 —-

 Heejin tried her best to relax her face and ignore all the thoughts swirling in her head but it was no use. She could see the disappointment in everyone’s eyes. She couldn’t live up to their expectations.

 “Okay, that’s a wrap!” The director shouted and everyone went on their merry way.

 “Thank you for all the hard work!” Heejin bowed to all the staff.

 Yeojin walked up to Heejin.

 “Hey stupid!” Yeojin shouted at her older sister.

 “Hey! Who are you calling stupid?”

 “I’m calling you stupid, stupid!”

 Heejin sighed. “What?”

 “Nice going back there, yelling at Hyunjin.”

 Heejin said nothing as Yeojin continued. “It’s her first day at work and all she wants to do is impress you, do everything you tell her to do. You told her to call you Heiress, she did. You told her to get coffee, she did. I bumped into her and made her spill your coffee. She gave you hers instead. And then you started screaming like a total psycho to the point that everyone could hear.”

 “Whatever,” Heejin said, looking away from Yeojin’s stern face. Why did her face feel so warm suddenly? Heejin walked to her changing room where Hyunjin was sleeping on the couch.

 “Hey,” Heejin shook Hyunjin’s arm gently.

 Hyunjin groaned grumpily. Heejin had to bite back a laugh. The cranky girl had the cutest pout when woken up.

 “Come on, let’s go. The driver usually takes us to ice cream after shoots.” Heejin offered her a warm smile.

 Hyunjin scanned Heejin’s face. Just a moment ago, the girl was screaming at her. But, ice cream sure did sound good…

 “Alright!” Hyunjin smiled back at her.

 For a second, Heejin could have sworn she felt her heart flutter.

[just-another-romantic]

How To Date a Broken God

Chapter One: Unfamiliar Faces and Uncomfortable Situations

Series Summary: A mere mortal teaches an almighty god how to be human

Warnings: nothing besides Loki being slightly depressed and having really bad issues, domestic avengers

Notes: GET READY FOR A SLOW BURN KIDDOS

“what is more unfair than having to choose between being a monster or being a hero? (-when you have to be both.) when you learn that the road to hell is paved with more than just good intentions.” -@dvoyd

Loki was having a really bad day. It barely ten in the morning and within the span of two hours of his waking - he spilt his coffee, managed to piss off Thor and cause a thunderstorm, got caught in the freezing May rain, and was now late to an Avengers meeting. Great, just great, he thought. They barely trust me enough to have me as a member of the team, and I’m already late to the first meeting.

The streets of Manhattan were mostly cleared due to the sudden storm, most people ducking inside whatever building to seek shelter, but the few unlucky pedestrians still on the street steered clear of Loki.  The whole New York incident still didn’t sit well with people, even with it being a good ten years (or five for some) in the past. The god couldn’t blame them, he hated himself for it too.

In the middle of an almost abandoned Manhattan street, Loki held his arms outstretched, trying to remember the way it felt to fly. Hundreds of years ago, when he was just a boy, he’d run across the bank of the lake outside of the palace, “flying.” He yearned for that time all over again - when he was young and innocent, unaware of the ways of the world, when nobody hated him and he didn’t hate himself. He longed for his mother’s touch and soft voice, and the wrestling matches between him and his brother. He missed the adrenaline coursing through his veins in the midst of a battle. He was a god, still is, but oh, did he feel so small. His hands that once helped forge the universe seemed powerless now.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold of the tower,  Loki was bombarded by no other than Agent Maria Hill. “Jesus Christ,” she exclaimed, grabing his wrist in a tight clasp and leading him through the building, “we let you out for one hour. One hour. And you turn up late.”

He swallowed his pride. “I’m sorry. I got caught up.” Loki was earning some interesting looks from the workers, most likely due to his appearance similar to a wet dog.

“Caught up reeking chaos, no doubt,” she seethed, reaching the end of the hall and pressing the elevator button. If the god didn't have a sliver of dignity left, he would have winced.

Instead, he coolly tossed, “You actually think that low of me, Agent?”

They stepped inside of the elevator, immediately beginning to rise to the fifth level where the conference rooms were located. Agent Hill turned to him, with a tight lipped smile. “Yes, actually,” she said. “After you destroyed half of New York, tried to take over our world like a maniac, and killed thousands of innocent people in the process, I believe I’m entitled to hate you, God of Mischief.”

Loki snorted. “There’s a line Miss Hill, and I’m the leader.”

The elevator dinged, cutting through the annoying music that Loki all but failed to realize, and opened its doors. He let Agent Hill lead him to the conference room, tracking water through the hallways behind her. After many twists and turns and passing too many doors to count, the pair arrived at the double French doors. Beyond them, sat the rest of the Avengers.

Once the door had opened, all eyes were on Loki, making him gulp. They were pleasant enough people, but he still hadn’t earned all of their trust. He had been their mission to take down for years, a villain to put in chains and shackles. Even after Ragnorok and the Blip, Loki doubted he’d ever be able to win their trust.

There was a new face at the table of superheroes, however. A woman of exquisite beauty, hair pulled into a simple ponytail, eyes vibrant and shinning, skin fair and clear. She was as gorgeous as any Asgardian woman Loki had ever met, perhaps even more so. Even in a plain blouse and jeans, she surpassed every beauty standard. 

Her (y/e/c) eyes locked with his and Loki felt...odd. He felt his insides turn to warm mush under her stare, electricity sparked in every nerve, and his heart seemed to have doubled in size. Oh no, that can’t be normal.

“You finally found him,” Director Fury said to Hill from his place at the head of the table, somehow managing to look annoyed and pleased all at once - an art. “Took long enough.”

“I apologize, Director,” Loki said, tearing his gaze away from the girl and to his boss. “It wasn’t my intention to get sidetracked and arrive late.”

“I don’t think that’s ever anyone’s intent, yet it still happens.”

Silvertongue remained quiet and Hill directed him to the only available seat, the one next to the woman. His hands felt clammy and for the first time in the past hour, he was almost thankful to be soaked in rain because he’s sure he’d be sweating otherwise. Why was he so nervous?

He lowered himself in the rolling chair next to her, and she looked him up and down through the corner of her eye, face flashing with...disgust? The woman stiffened, crossing her legs and positioning herself furthest away from Loki. His hear ached for the first time in a millennia. No, no, no, no. Stop that - stop that at once.

“You all may be wondering why I called you here today,” announced Hill, taking her place beside the director. “And why there is a new face.”

The woman’s cheeks turned pink under everyone’s gaze and she forced her lips into a tight smile, bashful.

Hill continued. “I would like to introduce to you all Agent (Y/n) (Y/L/n). Our newest addition to the Avengers team.”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before the sorcerer from across the table asked, “Pardon me Miss (Y/L/n), but Agent Hill, is a new member really necessary?”

Loki sensed (Y/n) practically sinking into the leather of her rolling chair.

With a deep breath, the Agent explained, “First of all, Doctor, she is ‘Agent’ to you. Second, its been a year since Thanos.” 

There was another pause as all of the avengers allowed the painful reminder to sink in. Loki’s eyes flitted over to the west wall, where the memorial was in place. Three huge portraits of the fallen heroes, framed in gold, with a matching broken avengers symbol above them. Underneath the first portrait of a red-headed woman was a plaque, reading, ‘Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, Black Widow, died for it.’ She was laughing in the picture, emerald eyes bright and dancing.

The picture in the middle was a man with a disheveled dress suit on, tie loose and hanging around his neck, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he worked on a laboratory table. Despite the grey hair’s sprouting in the thick brown locks, the man looked young and at ease. His smile flashed at the camera, teeth a pearly white. ‘Anthony Edward Stark, Iron Man, who died with it in his grasp,’ read an identical plaque.

The final picture was a handsome blond, looks so divine he could have been sculpted out of marble. His baby blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and a bit of mischief, a smirk to mirror it as well. He sat with a sketch pad in his lap and a charcoal pencil in hand. ‘Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America, died peacefully because of it.’

One larger block underneath read in bold print, ‘ALL DIED FOR JUSTICE.’

“We’ve been lucky to not run into any major issue so far, as it seems the universe itself is trying to get back in order. But what we cannot do is be naïve in thinking that it will last any longer. We need to face facts, we are down in numbers, and Agent (Y/L/n) is the only agent that has proven to me she is worthy of being a member of the team over the years I have worked with her.”

There was a loud crunch, coming from non-other than Scott Lang himself, munching loudly on pringles with his feet on the table. “So what,” he said through a mouthful of food, “does she have any powers?”

“What training does she have?” said one.

“In what ways is she qualified?” came another.

Finally, the new agent spoke. “I cannot turn large or small, nor can I fly or have a metal arm, but I have enhanced senses. Acute hearing and more than perfect vision, along with strength and agility. As for my qualifications, I’ve been trained as a skilled marksman and I’ve worked for S.H.E.I.L.D. for many years. I can take down a moving target from 250 yards away and I’ve been stationed on every continent for over six months.”

“Not to mention, in the past five years I gave her a medal,” cut in Fury, “And I wouldn’t give that to any wimp.”

“Most importantly, she has the character,” finalized Hill, leaving no room for discussion. With a sad smile and blank eyes, she gestured to the portraits on the wall. “I miss them too, guys, but we need to fill in the gaps. Thor and the Guardians are off world, Carol is doing who knows what, Clint will put an arrow through me if I drag him out of retirement again, and T’Challa has duties to his country. (Y/n) is not replacing our beloved friends, but we need more numbers for when something does happen.”

“So I’m assuming the Sokovia Accords are just gonna be disregarded now?” asked a witch.

“There really is no need for them anymore after the Snap. Today and over the weekend, Agent (Y/L/n) will be moving in and getting situated, but she begins training with you all Monday. Please for the love of God don’t scare her away.” Hill locked eyes with a certain god. “I’m talking to you Loki.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms, and in a fake promising voice said, “I would never! But a little prank never hurt anyone.”

“What about the time you stabbed your brother?”

“First, I was eight. Second, my brother and I are gods, madam. He’s survived much worse. I would never fatally impale a measly mortal.”

Agent (Y/L/n) huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Two can play at that game, Silvertongue.”

He glanced at her, unnerved by her confidence. “Are you willingly throwing yourself into a prank war with the god of chaos and mischief, petal?”

In the blink of an eye, a dagger that seemingly appeared at of nowhere was poised at his throat. Loki could see her smile behind the hilt. Her voice was sickly sweet, “No. I’m just willing to prove I am no delicate mortal, Lord of Chaos.”

“God.”

“Same thing.”

Loki bit his tongue, raising his hands slowly in mercy. As quickly as it came out, (Y/n) sheathed her weapon in her boot, looking all too pleased with herself.

Hill clapped her hands together to draw back the attention, plastering on a smile. “Proof enough?”

-----------

(Y/n)’s day had been going well. First thing in the morning, she got called into her boss’ office and got a promotion to work alongside the literal Avengers, was introduced to the team shortly thereafter, proving her skills to the ones that doubted her by holding a dagger to a god’s next, and clicked immediately with some lovely people.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. Compassionate, sassy, and didn’t take any bullshit from anyone. Her room was adjacent to hers and she offered to help unpack. Then there was the sweet Peter Parker, the Spiderling (Spider-Man). Innocent, lovable, and too intelligent for his own good. It only made sense to befriend him as he followed Wanda around like a puppy.

So the trio sat splayed out in (Y/n)’s room, out of energy from hours of unpacking, but laughing non-stop, nevertheless.

(Y/n) was wheezing. It was the type of laughter that made your stomach hurt from laughing so hard; she hadn’t felt it in awhile. “Oh God,” she gasped, “then what did he do?”

Wanda sat perched on the newly made bed, wiping a tear off of her check with a polished finger. “Nothing! You wouldn’t believe it, he just stood there with a horrified look on his face. I thought he was about to shit his pants!”

(Y/n) smiled. “Your brother, Pietro...it sounds like he was a good man.”

The redhead twisted one of her rings around her finger, looking suddenly downcast. “He was. Really was.”

“Jesus Christ, does everyone here have terrible family issues?” piped Peter from the windowsill, laughing in hopes to lighten the mood. 

“It might as well be a requirement to be a hero,” Wanda said with a sad smile, before abruptly turning to (Y/n). “What about you, new girl? What’s your tragic hero story?”

The new girl looked down at her bare feet, a bashful smile on her lips, but before she could open her mouth to say anything, F.R.I.D.A.Y. made the announcement that dinner was ready. Saved by the bell.

“To be continued,” declared Peter, hoping up from his seat and taking off towards the dinning room. “Hope you like pepperoni pizza, (Y/n)!”

She did, in fact.

The scene was incredibly domestic, nothing she would've imagined as a normal night for the almighty Avengers. Stacks of pizza boxes and liters of soda lined on the bar counter - plastic utensils, cardboard plates, and Styrofoam cups close by. Those who lived permanently in the tower sat on the variety of sofas and cushioned seats, chowing down on classic American food. Unfortunately for (Y/n), permanent residents also included Loki.

She grabbed two pieces or pepperoni, a cup of cola, and a napkin, and took a seat next to Wanda on a love seat, Peter chilling on the floor at their feet with a stack of five slices in his lap. Superhuman metabolism?

After a few minutes of silence (minus the munching of food) Sam piped up, “So Agent (Y/n), where are you from?”

She smiled, wiping the grease from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “(Y/n), please. I’ve been all over the world, but I’m originally from Brooklyn.”

“I like her already!” exclaimed Bucky through a mouthful of cheese and sausage.

She giggled, giddy like a child. Is this what home felt like? She hadn’t had a home in years.

“So how’d you get hired at S.H.E.I.L.D.?” asked a very green Banner, his plate of food actually an entire pizza box. “That’s no small feat.”

“My parents were actually Agents as well. I kinda grew up around here.”

Below her, Peter choked on his Sprite. “That’s so sick? Were they spies? Assassins? Snipers? Oh I bet they’re were snipers!”

(Y/n) ruffled the boy’s honey curls. “They were spies. My dad just had good aim, he taught me everything I know about guns and shooting.”

Peter chuckled immaturely, “Hehe...good aim...uh - Ow!”

Wanda had backhanded him upside the head.

There was a snicker from the far side of the room, where Loki stood emerged in the shadows. His pink lips were curled upward in a genuine smile, yet (Y/n)’s heart felt as if it had taken a bullet.

“What do your parents do now? Are they retired or do they still work?” Wanda asked from her side, but the new agent barely heard it.

Her face turned to stone, eyes now icy and cold as she stared at the God of Mischief. Of chaos. Might as well add murder to the list as well.

“They’re dead,” she stated, her voice spitting with venom. The room fell into an awkward silence, and Loki’s eyes met her own.

“In New York...the attack...the building collapsed on them.” Her nose scrunched in disgust. “All thanks to none other than the God of Chaos.”

---------

How to Date a Broken God - Taglist

@cosmic-souls-and-stardust​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @electroma89​ @madshelily​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @daddylouislittle @fanartdom​

[prismarine-parrots]

Grian (Short Story)

I don't count this as angst because it's really technically not but it's going to be interesting to see reactions >:3

The pressure of the cable connected to the back of his neck disappeared and he immediately started his usual startup procedure. He found that the codes running through his mind before he really woke up was much smoother- but also more complicated than he remembered... even if that wasn't much more than a feeling since he wasn't technically conscious yet.

"You alright there?"

He slowly sat up before releasing a breath. He felt so loose? He had never been able to do that before.

"How do you feel?"

"...Loose. Flimsy," his voice was soft, barely a whisper- how? He had always only had one tone.

"Yeah, welcome to your muscles actually communicating with your brain. Amazing how then human body is when you're actually functioning. Now get up, I'll teach you the basics. You have a lot to learn before you can completely your half of the deal. I hope that three weeks straight of completely rewriting your shoddy code was worth it."

NPC Grian's eyes finally focussed to see the person he had made the deal with for this to be possible. Glancing down, seeing his body laying on the bed, then seeing his savior sitting looking bored in his rolling chair.

He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. He had never had this type of maneuverability- it was strange. It was foreign. It was a miracle.

NPC Grian grinned.

Objective set.

—————

Grian was sitting in the cool shade of the Sahara storefront. They had recently installed a noteblock loop playing some soothing music and tables and chairs and a café in the previously-empty space up top, and the mass amounts of white concrete and large windows kept the inside of the building cool in the rising summer heat.

Grian didn't have much to do today- the building of Sahara was done, his latest advertising campaign had been completed, his base was finished except for the spur-of-the-moment interior builds, and all of his friends and current collabs were offline. He decided for once to just take it slow and chill instead of be going, going, going with his chaotic energy.

He took a long, slow sip of his tea- really just heated water with crushed flowers and a couple of flavorings, but it was still good. He closed his eyes, content with the peaceful quiet that surrounded him.

But suddenly Grian got shivers down his back. His soft smile fell as his eyes snapped open and body froze. Nothing has changed, as far as he could tell, yet something felt wrong and all his half-developed survival instincts were on high alert.

"Hello?" Grian called out. He set his cup of tea down and rested his hand above his phone in case he needed to pull out a weapon from the virtual inventory.

The Sahara Café stayed silent.

Grian realized that it was too quiet- the noteblocks has stopped playing.

But the noteblocks were looped.

"Whoever's here, this isn't funny..." Grian called. He didn't want to look down and check the player list to see if one of the redstone pranksters were online. He slowly stood up, waiting for someone to make themselves known and announce that they got Grian good and then continue on with whatever they needed from the builder.

There was a slurp sound from behind Grian. He spun around, only to be met with a face way to close for comfort- an evil smile and malicious glint in his red eyes.

Grian nearly screamed.

"YOU—?!"

Then there was a whoosh and something hit Grian in the head. He crumpled to the ground, dazed and disoriented. He tried to get up, but his limbs wouldn't respond.

"N... no... I won't..."

A rough cloth of darkness consumed his blurry vision, and Grian irritatedly realized they had tied a sack over his head like a cliche kidnapper.

He tried to stay conscious and to fight back, but his arms only slapped the ground pitifully instead of push himself up and his legs only stubbed his toes instead of kick the double. He felt his wrists be tied together and his entire body be picked up.

Grian's head knocked against something in the sudden movement he was blind to. Despite his clever skills and fast wits, they were useless when he was out like a light.

—————

Iskall had noticed something weird going on with Grian for the past few weeks.

It wasn't obvious, but little things. The way Grian would freeze and his eyes would go hazy for a second or two before he continued with whatever he was doing. The way his normally lively movements recently seemed a lot more controlled and calculated. There was rarely that little hop Grian did when he was excited, or the skipping while he walked with someone to a new location. But he sounded fine, and acted normally- flew with mass amounts of rockets, danced with parrots, hummed some of his little ditties from the beginning of the season. Iskall had brought it up with Mumbo, but Grian's closest friend hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary.

So Iskall hadn't brought it up again. As much as he wanted to let it go and allow himself to assume that he was over analyzing things, his gut wouldn't let him. Something just didn't feel right about Grian- which was weird, because usually nothing felt completely normal with that little gremlin.

Iskall was fixing up the Sahara ordering system to connect Mumbo's item transport tube as he was finishing that up. He had just finished recording the clip that would go before this when he got a text from... the War Talk channel on their communications?

DocM77: is Grian alright? He just asked me what kind of a blank space he's in and if it's a war prank

Zombiecleo: the war is over? It has been for a while?

DocM77: which is why I'm concerned

ImpulseSV: where is he? I don't know of any reason he'd be at the war zone, but maybe he sprang a leftover trap like he did with that TNT right after the war ended

DocM77: he says Sahara???????

Iskall looked up and in the direction of the warehouse. He quickly put two and two together, and his doubts were basically confirmed as he realized his bad feeling may actually be right.

Iskall85: there's an infinity room in Sahara. He built it. I think something's up with Grian.

DocM77: so then why is he confused about being in one of his own pranks?

Iskall put his phone away and crawled out of the hole to the redstone and took the elevator up the second floor and marched out the path to the warehouse. Along the way he passed Mumbo and called out to him.

"Mumbo! We need to go interrogate Grian, you're coming with me!"

"What? Why?"

"Just come."

Iskall took no time in leading Mumbo to the main meeting room and telling him to sit down before sitting in Grian's chair and reaching over the armrest to hit the button. The duo fell from their seats and into the infinity room, where Grian was curled on the floor with wide eyes.

"Grian?! What happened?!" Mumbo demanded and immediately dropped to his knees.

"I- I don't- all white, no difference— does not compute—" Grian stuttererd fearfully. Mumbo had a confused look cross his face as he hesitated in helping Grian up for a moment.

"It's just your infinity room. You build this yourself?"

Iskall narrowed his eyes at Grian's panicked face as the builder immediately tried to get himself together.

"I-I...? I mean, yeah. I just, uh, woke up here and was confused. I thought I had died or something crazy," the strawberry blonde chuckled awkwardly, pushing himself away from Mumbo.

The mustached man and the Swede shared a concerned look.

"Now, how do we get out of here...?" Grian asked, looking around and infinite walls nervously.

Mumbo gestured to Iskall, tapping at a nonexistent phone, before pointing to Grian who as looking away and covering his eyes, then pointing to himself.

What the heck? Was Iskall's first response, before he realized that Mumbo was trying to say. Text the others, he'll try to restrain him or something.

And so Iskall did that while Mumbo talked to Grian, pretending to feel around the walls for a hidden button or something before Iskall got a confirmation that the other hermits were coming and Mumbo "accidentally" fell down the hole in the floor to the sub-infinity room. Iskall feigned surprise and jumped down with him, and then they called up to Grian to tell him it was safe to come to come down and that there was an exit down here.

"When he comes down, we wait for him to bounce and then we grab him," Iskall planned under his breath.

"Are you sure we need to be that drastic? This IS Grian," Mumbo questioned.

"Who was scared out of his mind in his own infinity room? I've been seeing other weird things about him. I'm getting to the bottom of this," the Swede growled. He knew on the inside he was trying to hide his worry with aggression, but that feeling of wrongness was only growing stronger each minute something was wrong with Grian.

The builder bounced down and after disappearing through the white ceiling a couple of times, Iskall lunged and tackled Grian to the spongy ground.

"Ah! Iskall! What the heck?!"

"Alright, game's over, what's up, Grian? Why you acting weird?"

"Nothing's wrong with me! I'm fine!"

"I think I'm with Iskall in this one, Gri. Something is wrong. The war has been over for a couple months now, and you made the infinity room maps forever ago. How could you forget? I... I don't know, Gri, and I'm scared to find out what else you've been hiding from us that's not normal," Mumbo said quietly. Grian looked over his shoulder at his friends. Iskall cringed inwardly at the shocked look on Grian's face, but he held firm, knowing that Mumbo would cave in before the issue was solved.

"Let's head up, the others should be meeting us upstairs." Mumbo suggested nervously.

Iskall nodded and held Grian's hands behind his back and lead him up the water column to the normal part of Sahara. There were some of the other hermits wandering the warehouse- Doc, Cleo, Impulse and Tango.

"Grian! Iskall? What's going on?" Tango asked.

"Grian's acting up, and I don't trust it," Iskall summarized.

"This is completely uncalled for..." Grian muttered. Tango, Mumbo, and Cleo all seemed to agree. 

"Grian is our friend, Iskall. No need to put him in in handcuffs!"  Cleo exclaimed. 

Iskall shook his head. "I just... I don't trust him right now. Things don't make any sense."

"Give the man a chance to explain himself? Maybe he hit his head or something and has amnesia..." Tango offered.

"Don't give him an excuse to get out of this!" Iskall snapped. Grian had been rather quiet this entire time, and the Swede didn't like it. Another thing out of character for him. Normal Grian would have been yelling his head off right about now. 

Doc's good eye was narrowed and he was glaring at either Iskall or Grian, it was hard to tell. 

"Iskall, let him go." 

Doc's voice was dangerously low and steady, and for once the hitman actually listened to the hybrid scientists. Grian immediately stepped away from Iskall, shaken eyes glancing over his shoulder...

Only to walk into a headlock by Doc. 

"HEY!"

"Doc, what are you doing?!"

"Stop it! You're choking him!"

The two were on the ground and the others had jumped back while Grian struggled weakly against Doc's green arm and the creeper hybrid pinned him to the ground. Iskall rushed forward and pulled against Doc.

"Doc! Let him go! Too far dude! I was just being yelled at, now you're going past me!"

Doc sat back and released Grian's throat and the builder immediately gasped for air. 

"What the heck, man?!"

Doc's face was neutral. "I don't think Grian has an LED in the back of his head," he announced firmly. 

This caught everyone's attention. 

"What...?" Cleo breathed and slowly approached the mess of limbs. 

Iskall hesitantly glanced over Doc's shoulder, feeling like this was an invasion of privacy but also a needed investigation. 

Indeed, there was a red glowing LED light, along with a single small port lined with silver, just under the hem of Grian's sweater.

"What in the world?" Tango asked, suddenly turning to Grian. The strawberry blonde hadn't moved further, as if he weren't sure how to react beyond this point. Tango kneeled by Grian's face. "What's going on, Grian?"

The demon then jumped back in surprise and Iskall reached out to instinctively help him. Tango's red eyes were wide and arms pressed against his chest as if pulling away from something disgusting. 

"Red eyes?!"

Cleo's head shot up. "But isn't that only a demonic trait?"

Tango nodded while Mumbo slowly drew a distressed breath. 

"That's not Grian... That's NPC Grian... I'd only heard about him once before..." the redstoner explained slowly, not taking his wide eyes off their false friend. 

Iskall watched as "NPC Grian" suddenly threw Doc off him as if it were nothing (which was no small feat) and got to his feet. He scanned the gathered hermits and Iskall shivered as he made eye contact with unnerving red eyes on his usually-chipper friend.  They were bright and calculating and malicious and excited, nothing like the soulful dark-brown-almost-to-the-point-of-black that belonged to Grian.

"Finally, I've been so bored of pretending to be that organic version of me. Grian is so boring! All he does is yell and cry and try to talk to me. And all he ever seems to do here is fly and build and talk. Does no one appreciate calculated thinking time anymore? But I'll admit, with a fully-organic body, one needs a lot more time to function than basing everything on numbers. Anyhow, I should really be going, I need to catch up with some friends..." 

NPC Grian casually waved and turned on his heels to walk out. 

"Get him!" Cleo yelled and chased after the false Grian. Doc was already a step ahead and was aiming his electified trident at the fleeing figure and Tango seemed to be chanting in something or another- Iskall honestly had no idea. He didn't have any idea of what to think of any of this.

Mumbo slowly turned to the last Architech with genuine fear.

"Iskall, if that's not Grian..."

"Then where is he?"

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

Word count: 2430

This turned out longer than I thought it was going to. It's also very stiff and awkward :/

And I'm not doing a part two :P but if someone wants and ending bad enough, go ahead and make up your own!

[ficstogo]

Belgian Waffles and Fried Oreos

Pairing: Edward Nygma x Reader

Word Count: 2,901

Summary: Hoping to have a new start in Gotham to begin your independent life, you have a run in with an intelligent man.

Warnings: None

A/N: A birthday request made by someone on Wattpad. It took awhile and sorry for the minimal Edward here.

My cheeks stung as the cool air blew past me. Already feeling the differences between Gotham and Altavista, the giddiness started to brew inside me, excited for the new life that was ahead of me. Life couldn’t get more exciting as my boots crunched against the snow and my thoughts wandered off to pleasant ideas. Of course I knew that Gotham was…not the best of places to live in when looking at its crime rate but I couldn’t help but feel happy that I was in a new location, having a new life, and now being able to have new experiences.

As my feet crunched against the snow, I stopped to raise my hand, waiting for any cabs to pull over and take me to my destination. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait too long as one of the first taxis that came down the road stopped in front of me to be their next customer.

“Where too?”

“Gotham Royal Hotel, please.” And the trip to the hotel was set. The drive there was remotely quiet except for the soft music that played in the background with the occasional horn honking in the slow traffic that the cab was stuck in. My eyes wandered to the worn down, dangerous looking streets, that Gotham is most certainly known for, which was why my family worried at the idea of me moving to this city, but when a billionaire boy wonder insist on having an interview with you for the opportunity to work with him, well, I don’t think most people would turn that down.

As my sightseeing came to end, having a large building be in front of me as well as to hear the cabbie tell me the fare, I exited the taxi and entered the hotel with my luggage right behind me. If all goes well, I’ll just be sleeping in Wayne Manor, personally helping around the home of this young man. Checking into my room, my wandering eyes continued to explore the new setting I was in as I took the elevator up. Upon entering my small dark and grey room that matched the aesthetic of the entire city, I couldn’t help but drop my weight onto the mattress, releasing a sigh as I stared up at the ceiling with thoughts being processed through my head. Bringing myself back to reality feeling as though that enough time has passed, I brought my wrist up to my face to view the time.

With wide eyes, I instantly rose up to a sitting position as time dawned on me. Swiftly rising to my feet, I grabbed my purse and dashed straight toward the door and through the main entrance of the hotel. My interview with Bruce Wayne was nearing and missing it would be the last thing on my mind. I needed this. This job was going to be my fresh start to begin a new independent life for myself. I never even realized how late my flight arrived to Gotham and now, here I am, making a mad dash to his extravagant home, hoping to arrive on time. Running right through the doors I make a sudden stop at the edge of the sidewalk, waving my arm in hopes to grab the attention of any taxi driving by once more. To my misfortune, the few that glided down the street, not bothering to stop for my convenience.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I decided to run down to my destination instead of waiting around noticing that traffic has become heavy. If I try to get a taxi, I won’t be able to make it in time in this rush hour. I stopped for nothing, apologizing to any person I ran into and continued on with my mission and because of my one-tracked mind, I suddenly heard a loud honk coming towards my way and my body hitting hard against the pavement as my head took in most of the heavy impact. With a weight on top of me, my vision suddenly gotten blurry and then heavy eyelids obscured my vision as I was knocked out from consciousness.

.~.~.~.~.

My head hurt. It felt heavy with a pounding to put in extra pain to what I already have. The light made my eyes sting and a crick in my neck only made me feel even worse but besides that, a sudden drop to my stomach came to me as I noticed where I was. My breath was caught in my throat and I couldn’t help but slowly rise up from a bed and observe the area, knowing there was fear in my eyes. My fight or flight instinct suddenly reached an all time high as I heard a bustling coming from the other side of the door. Looking around the edge of the bed and around, I tried to see if my purse was anywhere near by and if any of my belongings were discarded around. But as I kept looking, the sound of the door opening took me by surprise as my eyes widened to see a tall, sharp dressed man enter with a tray. Cowering away slowly as he continued to walk forward, I finally heard his baritone voice break the silence. “Oh good! You’re awake. I was afraid that you would still be knocked out for another day.”

With a shaky small voice, I gained the courage to talk to my likely kidnapper. “W-Where am I?” As he placed the tray on the bedside table, his dark eyes looked at me in curiosity and straighten up his stature to view even more intimidating than he was when he was standing by the door.

“Hmm? Oh! My home. Unfortunately, while I pushed out of the way of a moving vehicle, you hit your head pretty hard on the pavement and decided that it was my responsibility to make sure you get back into good health.” Thinking back, I did recall small bits from whatever had happened but thinking only caused me more pain than I wanted. “You do know who you are, correct? Where you are and where you’re from?”

“Uh, Y-yes, yes I do,” I held my head with my head to ease the pain as I finally looked up at him to answer his questions. “My name’s Y/N L/N, I’m in Gotham but I’m from Altavista…” With wide eyes, I looked at him as a sudden realization came to me. “Did you say I was here since yesterday?”

“Uhm, yes. You hit your head pretty hard, like I-”

“Oh no!”

“Oh no?” He repeated in a questioning tone with eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have a phone?!” I asked in a panicked strained tone.

“Um, yes. In the kitchen…Why?”

“I was suppose to attend an interview yesterday and now I’ve completely missed it!” I said in distressed tone. My entire life depended on this interview, on this job, and now everything seemed as if they were slipping between my fingers. I rose myself off of his mattress and followed him out of the door into a small yet cozy kitchen. “Thank you.” I said to me as he pointed to where his phone was placed in the area.

Nervously twirling my finger through the curly cord, I awaited to hear the ringing to cease and hear the voice of either him or his proper butler to spill from the receiver. As the ringing finally came to end, my breath was held until the sound of British man answered the phone. “You’ve reached Wayne Manor, this is Alfred Pennyworth speaking.”

As my mind blanked for a minute, I instantly made sure to answer back before an awkward silence fell upon the line. “H-hello! This is Y/N, the woman that was suppose to attend her interview. I was hoping that I could speak to Mr. Wayne about my whereabouts yesterday?”

“Right. I’ll put you through.”

Waiting nervously once more, I couldn’t help but have negative thoughts of him giving up on me for not being punctual yesterday. Biting my lip until it started to become a bit painful, my breath hitched once more when I heard the young man on the other line speak. “This is Bruce Wayne.”

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so very sorry for missing the interview yesterday. I was on my way and apparently I was almost hit by car and knocked my head when they pushed me out of the way.” I hope it didn’t sound as if I was lying. Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, and that usually leads to surprising results.

“Are you alright? You’re not terribly injured are you?” The concern in his voice sounded genuine and eased my mind, showing that (hopefully) my future boss was not a spoiled brat as I was afraid he was.

“I’m fine. Just a hit to my head that put me unconcious for the rest of the day. It would have been much worse if I actually got hit by that car.” As I said that, I looked towards the direction of the lean man who was busying himself with cleaning the dishes used to make my breakfast. I smiled a bit as I took in his physical traits. He was awfully attractive, I will admit.

“I’m glad to hear. If you like, we can reschedule your interview once you’re fully recovered. I prefer to speak to you in your best health. Just call and give Alfred a good date to have the interview.” I was amazed at how kind and mature he sounded over the phone, smiling even more as I still had the opportunity to more than likely earn this job here in Gotham.

“Thank you Mr. Wayne! I absolutely appreciate your understanding and second chance at this.”

“Of course, I just want you to recover after being in Gotham for the first time. Not a very spectacular way to spend as a newcomer unfortunately.” He chuckled out to alleviate the topic of my near death experience.

“No, but I won’t take this incident to heart,” I chuckled back. “Thank you again Mr. Wayne. I really appreciate this!” Ending the call, I turn to see the man with the tray in his hands once more, looking a bit nervous but professional at the same time.

“I brought your breakfast here, unless you want to eat in bed, then I’ll gladly take it back.”

“No, it’s alright! I think me being out of bed will help with this little creaks in my body.” I said as I placed my hand on my shoulder to show the soreness that I felt. Taking a seat at the small dining table, the scent of vanilla and waffles made a smile stretch across my face.

“I hope you’re a fan of tea. I didn’t know whether to make that or coffee but went with the more healthier choice.” He said with a smile as he took a seat in front of me. Sipping cautiously at the still hot contents of the tea cup, I was delighted at the taste that came across my tongue.

“It taste wonderful. Thank you.” Digging in at my breakfast once I felt the rumble in my stomach, I was surprised that what I thought to average belgian waffles are elevated to a magnificent taste. With wide eyes and a hand to my mouth to prevent any food from jumping out of it, I couldn’t help but give him my thoughts on it. “These waffles are amazing! How did you manage to make them taste fantastic!”

“A little secret of mine,” He smiled even more, “Maybe one day I’ll tell you what I do to add some pizazz to them.”

“I’m guessing that’s your way of saying that we should get to know each other if I ever want to know your secrets.” I said to him with a cheeky grin.

“That’s only if you’d like too.”

“Well I’m free today, that is if you don’t have anything planned.”

Finishing his sip of tea with an arched brow and a smirk, he placed his cup down and responded: “Nothing too important that requires my immediate attention but I’ll make a call to the office and inform them that I’ve inconveniently fallen ill.”

.~.~.~.~.~.

As a stranger to Gotham, Edward, as I soon found out, decided that it would be good idea to take a tour of his hometown, showing the less grittier and more lavishing side of Gotham. Finding out that he worked for the mayor, it was only understandable that he wanted to show off that part of town. I was amazed that I’ve fallen acquaintance with someone so formal and important and, to be fairly honest, he was quite attractive. I couldn’t help but steal glances at his looming figure, with his suave hair, his beautifully structured face, and lips I wouldn’t mind having against mine. As I noticed how I’ve been stirring in this attraction, I’ve started subtly flirting with him as well. I would berate myself on doing such a thing but even my inner conscious was egging me on, to take the opportunity to bring myself closer with this kind stranger.

It wasn’t only his physical features that attracted me to him, but how he was as a person and what went on in his mind. For one, he was very intelligent and that was something that liked him all the more. He explained how he use to work for the police in forensics and now he worked with the mayor who was one of his friends. The fact that he accomplished this much at his age was something to admire. Especially when I was still struggling to even make it in this world. Walks around town were spent with him giving off clever riddles that I couldn’t help but find charming and brought more fun to our outing. His entire energy was something that I was swooning over and I only hoped that he didn’t find me as boring as I thought I was, as all I ever do is stay home and read ridiculous romance novels that are far fetched to actually take place.

“I hope you enjoy sweets. I know this wonderful place that serves these fantastic fried oreos.” He said as he looked down at me with a smile as we continued to walk down the now brightening streets of Gotham.

“Sweets are bit of weakness of mine, so please, lead the way.”

.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Sitting on a park bench, Edward and I enjoyed our time by eating and talking to each other about topics that put each of us in a tangent. It had been a long while since I’ve spoken in depth with another person and it brought me a satisfying feeling.

Noticing the bit of white powder that was left on the corner of his lip while he continued to passionately talk on about everything and anything he knew, I could only giggle at both the mess on him and how one tracked his mind was as words flew out a mile a minute. When he noticed that my attention was not on what he was saying, he stopped and turned his eyes to me, as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

Smiling, I eased his mind that might have thought he had done something embarrassing and smiled. “Nothing. It’s just that,” Raising my to his face, I swiped my thumb across the corner of his lip. He looked at me with raised eyebrows and wider eyes as his adam’s apple bobbed at my action. “You’ve got some powder left on you.”  Once I finished my small innocent flirtatious action, I went ahead and took another fried oreo to eat.

“Well, it seems as though you have a bit of a mess yourself.” As quick as he said that, I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks as I felt his, what I now knew, soft lips press against the very edge of my lips. Snapping my head to look at him with my wide eyes, he too, had a red tint to his face.

With the small bit of silence left in between us, I decided to break the increasing tension by saying, “I…might be staying in town for a few days. If I get the job, I’ll being moving in…” He then slightly turned to me with a curious glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t mind having a new “friend” to have around.” Nervously looking back at him, I was surprised to see a smile on his face.

“Well even if you don’t get the job, I’m sure that the mayor could use some extra help in city hall.” He then offered more fried oreos and with a gleaming smile, I accepted it while responding, “I would greatly appreciate that as well as your help and care that you provided for me.”

“Well I couldn’t possibly leave a pretty girl on the streets while having some medical knowledge to treat her.” From there, we could only smile at each other. I only gleamed even more as I felt him scoot a bit closer as well as feeling his hand lightly touch mine. I knew from there that Gotham is going to give me the start that would go beyond my expectations and I was glad that I already have someone along to join me along for this.

[blurry-fics]

Chapter Three

Prove Me Wrong | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Profanity, awkward situations, little bit of angst, brief mention of past physical aggression

Word Count: 1896

Author’s Note: I don’t really have that much to say today, other than thank you to everyone who has been reading the series so far! It makes me so happy to see all of you enjoying the story so far :) I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

“Hey, Ty.”

He pulled his headphones down around his neck and turned to face you. You were currently sprawled out on the couch with your laptop on your stomach as you worked on homework.

“Yeah?”

“What was the name of that Greek god? You know, the big one.”

“Zeus?” he laughed.

“That’s it!” you exclaimed, throwing a hand to your forehead. “I totally blanked.”

“Isn’t your history textbook right there?”

“Yeah, but it’s out of arm’s reach.” You waved your arm in its general direction for added effect.

“You confuse me, Y/N,” he said before pulling his headphones back on.

You made a face at the back of his head before writing down the answer he had given you. It would have to be double-checked later for accuracy, but for now you just wanted to get this assignment over with.

The apartment was quiet, save for the typing of your keys and the quiet click of Tyler’s keyboard. He was singing quietly to himself, although you were pretty sure that he was completely unaware of that fact. It was just loud enough for you to hear, but just quiet enough to seem unintentional.

“What song is that, Ty?”

He pulled his headphones down and turned to you with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“That song you’re playing,” you said, nodding towards the keyboard. “What is it?”

His cheeks flushed with a little color, “You could hear me singing, couldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you grinned. Then, in a moment of bravery you added, “It was cute.”

“It’s a new song,” he said, breaking your eye contact and turning back to the piano. Your stomach filled with an uncomfortable, sinking feeling. You shouldn’t have said anything. “Do you want to hear it?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, happy for the distraction.

“It doesn’t really have a name yet,” he said as he pulled out the headphones.

“I’m sure something will come to you.”

“Yeah.”

His fingers found their place on the keys and he began to play. You slowly closed your laptop and set it on the coffee table, all the while your eyes never left Tyler. There was something different about him when he played music. Something that you could never quite put your finger on.

His voice was gentle as he sang to you. You admired the way that he seemed so sure of the keys that he was playing. If you had the opportunity, you would just sit on the couch and listen to him play for hours and hours. Tyler’s voice was something you would never get tired of.

He finished the song and dropped his hands to his lap. You waited for him to turn to you so that he could see your reaction, but his focus remained on his piano.

“That was really good, Ty.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler got up and sat down on the other end of the couch near your feet. He was still avoiding eye contact with you.

“Should I just go?” you asked.

“No, sorry. I’m just in my head right now.”

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, I just - I’m going to grab a drink.”

“Ok.”

While Tyler grabbed himself something to drink from the kitchen, you grabbed your laptop and pulled it into your lap. There was still over half of your assignment that needed to be done and it would only be so long before Tyler was back to his normal self and distracting you in every way he could think of.

*     *     *

After a couple more hours of studying, you had finally finished your homework for the night. Thankfully, Tyler had also come out of whatever slump had been bothering him earlier that day and now the two of you were reliving crazy stories from high school. You had become friends shortly after you started your freshman year, meaning that most of your crazy adventures had happened together.

“Hey, remember Peter Jones?” Tyler grinned.

“No!” you gasped. “Please, don’t make me relive that.”

“And how he asked you out…”

“Stop!” you giggled. “I didn’t know how else to handle someone liking me.”

“Y/N, you slapped him.”

“I apologized right after! I felt awful.”

“The poor guy was probably already nervous enough and you just slapped him straight across the face instead of politely declining.”

“I admit, it was not my proudest moment.”

You grabbed your drink from the coffee table and took a long sip of it. Tyler always kept stuff that you liked in his fridge since you were over so often.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get detention.”

“I think he was too embarrassed about getting hit by a girl to actually tell anyone that would get me in trouble.”

“Dumb.” Tyler shook his head as he finished off his Red Bull.

“Ok, but what about that girl that was obsessed with you junior year?”

“Sadie? Yeah, that wasn’t fun.”

“She came to every basketball practice and tried to talk to you afterwards, right?”

“Yes! One time she even followed me out to my car.”

“Wait, really? You never told me that!”

“She did. I’m pretty sure she would have gotten in the car if I didn’t keep the door locked.”

“We really didn’t have any luck with high school relationships, did we?” you laughed.

“No, not really.”

You ran your finger around the rim of your mug as you debated if you wanted to vocalize the thoughts that were in your mind. Tyler took notice of this.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Tyler said, giving you a light tap with his foot. “Your mind isn’t just elevator music right now.”

“Maybe it is!”

“I know it’s not. That’s not your ‘my-mind-is-elevator-music’ face.”

“Well, um, do you ever think about the truth or dare game?”

“Are we really having this conversation again?”

“You asked!”

“What about the truth or dare game?”

“Like, what I said. About my feelings.”

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, Y/N: I don’t care that you have feelings for me. It doesn’t make me think any more of you and it doesn’t make me think any less of you. It’s just… one added aspect to our friendship.”

You should have expected that response from him. It was the same thing that he defaulted to every time that you brought up the truth or dare game and it annoyed you every time. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings for you - that part was fine - the problem was that you had a hard time believing him. His actions never seemed to match his words.

“I should have seen that one coming,” you said. A petty excuse for a laugh escaped your lips.

“It’s the same thing I tell you every time.”

“Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s fine. I asked.”

You hated that you couldn’t seem to get over Tyler, no matter how hard you tried. It didn’t help that you two were together almost every day, aside from when you had to go to classes. Being around Tyler always seemed to bring up new reasons for you to fall even more in love with him as you got older.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I-”

“No, Tyler, it’s fine. Just forget I brought it up.”

“Ok.”

You tapped your fingers along your leg while you tried to think of a better conversation topic, although you couldn’t help but feel like you had ruined the nice night you had been having. Of course you had to go and bring up your feelings again, as if Tyler had somehow changed his mind about you.

“What are your plans after class tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’ll probably hang out with my brother. Or come over here, if you want to see me again.”

“You’re always free to come over. I like spending time with you.”

There he went again, making things confusing.

“I like spending time with you, too.” You tried your best to muster up some form of a smile.

Tyler didn’t really say anything after that. You had no idea what to say either, and the silence was beginning to press in on you. All you could think about was that stupid truth or dare game.

You sat up and began to gather up all of your things. There was no point in staying at Tyler’s apartment now that you had made things awkward between the two of you. The quiet and forced conversation was going to drive you crazy.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” you answered plainly.

“You don’t want to stay longer?”

“I do, but this…” you waved a hand between the two of you. “I made it awkward.”

“It’s not awkward.” He said it so confidently that you almost believed him. “I just - I don’t know - feel bad, I guess.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Why do you feel bad?”

“I just wish I felt the same.”

“Right.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Listen, I’m just gonna go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You finished packing up your things and pulled your bag onto your shoulder. Tyler didn’t say anything else until you had pulled the front door open.

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Later, Ty.”

As soon as the door shut behind you, tears began to pool in your eyes. Something had to be done about your feelings for him, since he obviously wouldn’t ever feel the same.

You blasted music the entire way home to keep yourself from thinking back to all the dumb things you had said. Why couldn’t you just let the entire situation go? It wasn’t new information that Tyler wasn’t in to you, and yet you kept bringing it up in hopes that it had changed. All you were doing was making things harder on yourself.

Carter was in the den playing video games when you arrived home, so you collapsed down next to him on the couch and grabbed a controller.

“Sure, you can join the game,” he said sarcastically.

“Shut up, Car. I had a bad night.”

“Tyler?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok.”

Carter finished up the round he was playing before switching to multiplayer. Throwing insults at him and trying not to lose ended up being the perfect way to take your mind off of things.

“Ok, I’m going to call it a night,” you said, shutting off your controller and tossing it down onto the couch.

“Alright, goodnight.”

“Thanks for playing video games with me, Car. It was the distraction I needed.”

“You know you can talk to me if you need to.”

“I know. Now get some sleep, you still have work in the morning.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “I’m coming.”

You walked out of the room while he finished shutting off the console. Apparently the video game had distracted you from how tired you really were, because you were having troubles keeping your eyes open as you brushed your teeth.

Your phone buzzed as you collapsed into bed. It was a text from Tyler.

Tyler: Goodnight

You sighed and typed out an answer.

Y/N: Goodnight

Things were going to be ok. If you really worked on it, you would be able to move on from Tyler and finally find someone that felt the same way about you. That way your friendship with Tyler could be just that: a friendship.

You fell asleep thinking about Tyler.

*     *     *     *     *

Taglist

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[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Devil’s Trust pt5

Warnings: Strong language, Moblord styling warlords.

Masterlist

—

Chapter 5

“No not at all I completely understand. Thank you for your time.” His phone had not stopped. It was either the vultures from the media, some of the companies connected to him or direct calls from the other factions wanting something. His head swam with explanations, confirmations and renegotiation meetings. This was a show of professionalism. He was not proud of his little display in the meeting with the others but he was composed now. At least he had been right up until that last call. “God Dammit!” He ripped the line free of the wall and tossed the entire contraption clear across the floor of his office. The plastic shattered and splintered as it came in contact with the polished wood flooring. Why was this happening? Since when did he have to bargain in his own territory? Why?

“My-my, there’s a sight you don’t see every day.” Mitsuhide appeared like an apparition in the room. He hadn’t heard him arrive or even seen him venture in. “Were you planning on conducting semaphore when the next person tried to contact you or were, we going to try Morse code?”

“You seem to be taking delight in this.” Nobunaga growled. He felt it as his voice rumbled in his throat. That familiar paranoia he had from a child. The one that had him keenly aware of the knives posed at his back waiting for the curtain to fall on his Caesar.

“Is that what it looks like?” Mitsuhide collected the broken phone from the floor and placed it back on the desk. It was a tangled mess and he couldn’t quite shift the idea that it was strangely symbolic of the man who had thrown it.

“Why are you here?” The intimidating look was firmly locked in place and he could already feel his patience lacking.

“They are worried.” Mitsuhide sat down in the chair opposite as if he had been invited. “That was quite the show after all.”

“It is all in hand.” Nobunaga schooled his face so it was as blank as possible. Oh, dear my old friend. Try as you might you simply cannot kill the emotion in your eyes. That is a trick very few have mastered.

“Come now you might be able to sell that kind of BS to someone like Hideyoshi but it isn’t going to wash with me.” Mitsuhide calmly brushed aside Nobu’s attempt to blindside him. He had no idea really the extent to what was going on in the guys head but he was damned if he was going to just sit back and wait for the tinder to catch light. He had had his fingers burnt once by this man as he blindly followed. Now, he was determined to do something a bit more proactive. “What do you need?”

“Information. Shingen is painfully slow when it comes to gathering anything I can use and then the parts I am given are dead ends.” Nobunaga waved his hand at the pile of papers on the desk and overflowing bin on the floor.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Mitsuhide’s body language was unreadable but his voice held the question like a viper poised to strike if need be.

“You were busy playing house.” Nobunaga tossed out his jibe caring little for its implied malice.

“Is that the only reason? This isn’t like you. What happened to the man who had all bases covered and everything tied up in a pretty bow?” Mitsuhide pushed.

“It’s difficult to cover bases when you don’t even know what you are supposed to be protecting against.” Nobunaga complained crumpling up yet another piece of paper and tossing it like a sportsman in the general direction of the rest, giving little care as to if it hit the mark or not.

“I’ll see what I can find out.” Mitsuhide stood up and adjusted his jacket so it was closed, hiding the holster on his side. This was far from a comfortable confrontation but at least he had a slightly better idea of what he was dealing with. Arrogance and ego any one of them is enough to bring down someone. But anger? Now that just makes you sloppy. “I’ll send up a replacement phone while I’m at it.”

Nobunaga watched as Mitsuhide left the room. That breezy attitude and relaxed composure irritated him. He pulled out his mobile and hammered out a text. “The Birdcage eight sharp, don’t keep me waiting this time.”

---

“Morning [Name]” The cheerful voice of one of the girls from the secretarial pool called out as [Name] stepped foot off the elevator.

“Grace? Morning.” [Name] smiled and gave a little wave back as the other woman came closer. Grace was the poster child for whatever average was. It was something that had struck [Name] since they first met and it was in no way meant as a slight on the woman. In fact, it was her averageness that was the source of some envious thoughts when [Name] was cursing her life on the run. How nice it would be to just be so blendable, that you could fit in no matter where you were and not stand out? What’s that old saying? You always want what you don’t have?

There was something enjoyable about lacklustre methodical daily grind after everything that had happened. The time off had been a somewhat forced experience when the office manager found out about the church thing. 

Apparently, it had made it to the local news despite the police attempting to shut it down before it went that far. They insisted she take time off, claiming she might be suffering from some sort of delayed stress and trauma. Mitsuhide had been the one to encourage her to agree with it. It was going to take time for the dust to settle and apparently things weren’t as resolved as they seemed. 

He needed time to make things secure for her and she had been a little worried he might attempt to send her to her father. He knew the connection. At least he knew the fact that she was connected to the other family and her father was involved but he didn’t seem to want to dig for further detail and the matter was dropped. It seemed that despite their efforts to improve communication there were still problems with how much they could share with each other.

“Hey, didn’t you just move in with your boyfriend? You don’t get to look like that so soon.” Her friend extended her hand and prodded the small creases that had formed on her forehead.

It always felt a little strange to her that she was able to have this kind of friendship even if it was only a work thing. She had spent most of her life distancing herself from others in case she had to leave in a hurry and too many connections made that kind of thing messy. But Grace had been different. They started at the company around the same time. Both new to the area and she was at least grateful that Grace seemed like the kind of person who was happy to just keep to themselves. They never pushed for more information than was given but they were always willing to just hang you and drink if you needed company.  

During the whole funeral thing with Mitsuhide, Grace had proved to be an honest to good friend and pestered [Name] enough to keep her going. Bringing in packed meals, making tea and coffee. It didn’t seem like much but in the closed-off isolation [Name] had felt as she locked herself away from the rest of the world during grieving it had been a source of warmth, she was thankful for. Part of her always felt a little guilty that even now outside of work there was nothing more to their friendship than spoken greetings on the street.

“Sorry guess I’m just tired.” [Name] recoiled a little and gave a chagrined smile.

“No rubbing it in my lonely single gal face either!” The girl huffed putting her hands on her hips and backed up her show of offence with a rather unconvincing angry look.

“Ha-ha, I wasn’t!” [Name] chuckled. She had missed this. Simple interactions, conversations with no real substance. Just friendly banter.

“Yeah well, I’ll let you buy me lunch to apologise.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” [Name] smiled knowing this was probably the start of a long lunch that probably involved a drink of some sort.

“Yep cos I’m all kinds of generous like that. Well, I better get back to the fourth floor. Heaven forbid someone has to make their own coffee.” Clasping a hand on [Name]’s shoulder her friend gave a wink before stepping past and getting on the elevator.

[Name] took her seat behind her desk the grey felt-covered walls of her cubicle blocking out the rest of the office. So, this is what normal feels like huh? The phone rang as soon as the time on the wall shifted to office hours. Switchboards were lighting up, trading had started.

“Hello thank you for your call to us today my name is [Name] how may I help you?”

---

The heavy curtain was pulled aside allowing access to the main door. The silence from the entranceway became engulfed by the melodious sounds of the in-house live band as they played soft jazz music that was the usual ambient tone when performers were not on stage.

He hated the fact he was once more summoned although this time he at least had a mind as to what it was about. His eyes moved from each low-lit table and partly hidden seat as he walked towards the reserved section. Traders and dealers mixed with clientele from all walks of life. Shingen smiled to himself. No matter the day and age it’s those that trade in information that survive. The larger booths were positioned close enough to the stage you were not easily overheard by eavesdroppers. At least this time I get a better view. So many beauties here tonight, what a pity this is work.

Shingen slid into the seating, the padded leather moulded around him making the booth feel even more intimate. There was still five minutes before their agreed upon time and he took the opportunity to grab a waitress and place a drinks order. His plunged his hand into the lining of his jacket and retrieved a folded set of papers. The fruits of his labours as he looked into the affairs of the offending competition. Returning a few minutes later she placed a shot glass and tall slender bottle dusted with a light frost to it on the table.

“Dry Martini”

The waitress turned with an affirmable smile and gave a slight bow to Nobu before returning to the bar to fetch his order.

“Well hello to you too.” Shingen welcomed the other man as he poured his own drink. His hand melted the chilled coated on the bottle and the black spirit swirled in the shot glass like an inky pool before he tossed it back in one straight shot down his gullet. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be nicer to the staff.”

“I’m not here to socialise.” Nobunaga popped the buttons on his jacket the hilt of his flashy piece of weaponry glinting in the candlelight before taking a seat. “What did you find?”

“Straight down to business then.” Shingen sighed and downed another shot, the astringent sweet liquid coating his mouth before he handed over the papers. “Here. From what I can tell Esshu is now being run as a form of conglomerate venture.”

“Conglomerate?” Nobunaga quirked a brow glancing at Shingen before reading the documents.

“You said you were hitting a wall trying to find the new head? Well, this is probably why. The board of directors appear to be the ones calling the shots for the business now.” Shingen calmly outlined the highlights of his findings as he continued to drink.

“So, they are all collaborating in order to prevent the business from folding? That’s not something I wanted to hear.” Nobunaga nodded as he read. Even in the subdued lighting, it was easy to see the agitation in the man. The same displace of unrest in the man that had been present at the meeting in HQ was still there days later.

“Well, we can’t all get things nicely tied up in a neat little package. You asked for information I found it.” Shingen’s snarky reply didn’t so much add fuel to the fire but it did give him some pleasure. Seeing the usually composed devil give a show of uninhibited raw emotion was gratifying. “So, what now?”

“I need to think. I now have multiple targets at the same source but something is bugging me with it all.” Nobu folded up the papers and placed them inside his own jacket before picking up his martini and draining it in one go. Making a mental note to gain a second opinion in order to gain a little peace of mind.

“Oh?” Shingen raised his brow at the reaction he hadn’t exactly been expecting. Then again if the man before him was more predictable perhaps their previous game might have ended differently.

“Why go to such lengths for a dead in the water company?” Nobu was referring to the other pages in the report. The ones that showed the financial records. Something about them looked familiar and flashed like a warning signal to him.

“People do a lot to keep their own jobs and livelihoods.” Shingen shrugged wondering what the devil had seen that he hadn’t.

It was true. People had the uncanny ability to do things in order to protect what they had. Some were smart, a lot were reckless, and then there were the moves that shouldn’t have been possibly and yet by some miracle succeeded. The question here was which one was it? The company was floundering just as he thought it should be. It was weakened just as he expected it to be. The Beast had lost its head and it was dying. So why keep going? To what purpose was the drum still pounding out its beat in the darkness?

“Maybe.”

---

– Buzz, Buzz –

A quiet room devoid of light became a little livelier as a call to a mobile rang out. The vibrations rattled it against the hard surface of the desk and the screen displayed the incoming call. The device fell silent as it remained unanswered. A few seconds later a different notification came to the phone. A simple text…

“The first move is in play”

---

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 2 - (totally uninterested.)

The possibility of speaking more than five words to Ethan had my heart doing somersaults as I got off of the elevator in Harry’s building. I knew where he lived--Kristen’s classmate, Georgia (who we sometimes hung out with) lived on the fourth floor.

If I remember correctly, we ended up eating pizza here a few Fridays back at 2am when we were plastered and Kristen was not anxious about her grades.

I made my way down the hall to the fifth door as Harry’s text message from an hour earlier had instructed. I lifted my hand to knock, but it opened before I made contact--Harry stood with wide eyes and an expectant smile on his face.

“Hi,” I said, pulling my head back in surprise. I peered over his shoulder, causing him to laugh. “Is he here yet?”

“No, Nora, relax, come in.” He stepped aside and let me by, we were cramped in a small hallway that didn’t give me much of a view of the rest of the place. “They’ll probably be here in like 15 minutes. They sometimes get take away after practice.”

“Hmm,” I said, watching as he retreated back towards the living room. It was decently clean for an apartment of four guys.

Harry and Ryan had been friends since freshman year--at least, that was my understanding. He was the one that Harry talked about the most. Then there were Alex and Niall as well.

Ryan and Niall were both on the basketball team with Ethan. Harry was on the soccer team (he’d told me at work that he was good, but I decided out loud when he told me that I didn’t believe him.) Alex, their fourth and final roommate, didn’t play any sports. He was big into the music scene and spent most of his free time, as Harry as explained, in a dingy recording studio with his classmates.

“Hmm what?” He asked over his shoulder, not stopping to look back at me. He headed into the kitchen and reached into the fridge. He pulled out a beer and handed one to me before opening one for himself.  I followed him over towards the couch and sat beside him.

“Just hope he shows up,” I said simply, shrugging my shoulders. I took a sip of the beer and winced at the tase. I’d never admit it to Harry, but I was much more of a cider or wine type of girl.

“Right,” he laughed. I followed him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. He reached for a bag of chex mix he’d apparently been snacking on before my arrival. “Whatever would we do if he didn’t?”

I rolled my eyes, pulling out my phone to check the time again. “They don’t pay me enough to sit next to you in that stupid library, so we’re definitely not gonna do it out here,” I motioned around his apartment.

The TV was on, commercials flashed over the screen as he pulled his eyes up to look at me--completely unenthused. “Nora, just appreciate the fact that I even let you come over, okay? Now you get to drool over him like he’s a caged animal and he’ll never even know.”

His tone was playful and chastising, but I pulled my feet up on the couch and moved around to get more comfortable. “How are you gonna introduce me?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at him to bother him more than I already was. I took a few more sips of my drink--hoping the alcohol would calm my nerves.

He reached his hand in the bag and then popped another handful in his mouth and shrugged. “Doesn’t he know who you are?”

I thought on it for a second. I mean--he should. We had a class together during our sophomore year and he’d spoken to me three whole times in the Library. He at least had to know my face. “He knows that I work in the library, I think.”

Harry widened his eyes a little bit and let out a sigh, grabbing another handful of his snack. “Okay--I’ll just say you’re my friend, from the library, that we work together,” he shrugged a bit.

There was noise in the hallway--laughter and voices as the door opened, and I turned to look at Harry with big eyes and a grin on my face.

He rolled his eyes at me and reached his hand inside the bag once more. “Oh come off it,” he said, and he must have known his gibberish made no sense to me--an American--because he continued when I scrunched my nose in confusion. “Relax.”

Niall, Ryan, and Ethan all came in with their duffle bags on their shoulders, laughing at something one of them had said as they filed into the living room. They dropped their bags on the floor and I--as the ever-nervous idiot who could barely manage a conversation with someone she found attractive--kept my mouth shut decided I’d let Harry do most of the conversing.

“Hey guys,” Harry greeted. “This is Nora. We work at the library together.”

I watched as they each scanned my face. I’d met Ryan maybe twice--Niall was in my major, and Ethan, well, you know the story. I raised my beer at them in greeting and let them turn back to each other and whatever conversation they’d been having. Was that too friendly? Was raising a beer at a group of guys basically code for I’m also a dude, so don’t bother finding me attractive?

“Dude, y’shoulda seen the fucking half courter this one made tonight,” Niall pointed at Ryan, who was too busy downing a gatorade to respond. Ethan sat at the table in the corner, taking off his shoes and finding a sweatshirt in his bag.

“It wasn’t actually that good,” Ethan laughed, looking up to give Harry and I more details.

“It was pretty fucking awesome,” Ryan defended, setting the gatorade down on the counter. He was stood in the kitchen--but a cut out in the wall allowed a full view. “I’ve never seen you make one like that,” he shot back at Ethan.

“I’ve never tried cause I’m not trying to get hurt and benched for the fucking season,” he retorted with a laugh.

I didn’t know nearly enough about basketball to act like I did, so instead, I tried to change the subject.

“Have you started your project for Benham yet, Niall? You’re taking his class this semester, right?”

He let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, am I. He’s ridiculous--completely mental. I have to work with Kyle Porter, that wanker. He’ll probably fuck it all up and we’ll fail.”

Harry let out a laugh at how dramatic his friend was being, but I simply kept my eyes on Ethan as he came to join us on the couch. He reached for the bag of chex mix from Harry (who easily handed it over) and plopped himself down with a sigh.

I felt somewhat betrayed, honestly, not just because Ethan had sat next to Harry instead of me--but really because Harry had completely and utterly downplayed his friendship with Ethan. Here they were, all hanging out in Harry’s apartment, and Harry just handed him the chex mix as if they were long lost brothers in some sort of tribe of idiots.

Why had he completely downplayed it?

Ethan leaned forward and it took me a second to realize he was looking at me. “Nora, you said? You were in my History of the English Language class last year, right?”

I let out a laugh, which Harry made a face at because nothing Ethan had said was really funny, and nodded. “Yeah, with Adam Middleman, good times!”

Ethan nodded and sat back again, letting his eyes drift to the TV. Harry’s eyes were still on me--his face blank and somehow sending a message that I was a total idiot.

“Anyone hungry? Should we go to the dining hall or order something?” Ryan asked as he came back into the living room, his eyes scanning the room for answers.

“I’d do either,” Niall announced, tossing his bag into (what I assumed to be) his bedroom. “But I’m hungry, so let’s make up our minds, ladies.”

“Let’s just do the dining hall,” Ethan said with a shrug.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “The dining hall is fine.”

Harry turned to look at me again--which was just getting to be obnoxious now. He’d give me these are you crazy? stares, but wouldn’t actually say anything. He stood from the couch as Ryan responded to Niall, saying something about the sandwich bar in Henderson Dining Hall. 

“Will you come with me, for a second? I want to show you something.”

I stared up at Harry, confused and annoyed that he was trying to get me away from Ethan. He widened his eyes at me to let me know he was serious, and I stood from the couch. I held in the exaggerated sigh I so badly wanted to unleash and followed Harry down a side hall and past a bathroom.

He went into a dark room (his bedroom, I was guessing), and shut the door behind me. “You need to chill out. You’re being obnoxious.”

I rolled my eyes, somewhat offended by his feedback. He clearly didn’t know what it was like to have the hots for Ethan Davis for two years and finally be able to talk with him in a casual environment. I was always seeing him at parties or in the library--now I finally had the chance to talk to him like a real person.

“I am not being obnoxious.”

“You’re being obnoxious,” Harry nodded sternly, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

“You think everything I do is obnoxious,” I retorted, crossing my arms to mirror his.

“Everything you do is obnoxious.”

“Is that seriously all you wanted? Can I go back out there now?”

He let out a breath and tried to temper himself. “Nora, just--play it cool.”

“What do you mean?” I asked--almost desperate for him to give me legitimate feedback. If he was going to drag me into time out and just shit on me, I didn’t want his help. If he was going to actually give me insider advice on how to land Ethan Davis, I’d take it.

“Just, I dunno--play hard to get or something. Don’t act so available.”

I paused for a second, looking at him straight in the eyes. Maybe the adrenaline was clouding my comprehension, but I didn’t understand. “But,” I said, my eyes narrowed. “I am available.”

He rolled his eyes a little, which caused me to laugh in response. “Nora, that’s not hot. Being unavailable and totally and completely uninterested is hot.”

I frowned at him, totally and completely trying to not laugh at how stupid he sounded. “You’re incredibly moronic. Can I go now? I’m totally tagging along for dinner.”

He let out a deflated laugh. “You’re unbelievable. But I’d love to watch you continue to crash and burn tonight.”

I reached up to pinch Harry’s cheek. He swatted at my quickly, a deep frown causing a wrinkle in his forehead. “Cheer up,” I said. “You get to watch people fall in love tonight!”

**

My dinner with Harry and his friends was mostly uneventful. I did my best to interject at the right moments and say things that would catch Ethan’s attention, but most of my social interaction ended up being eye rolls back and forth across the table with Harry.

At least I got to sit and look at Ethan for a whole 45 minutes.

And now, I was hoping when Ethan left the library for the night, he’d decide to march right up to the information desk, tell Harry to suck it, and propose marriage right here, right now. I’d happily oblige.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Harry mumbled, his mouth half blocked by the hand he rested his chin on.

I looked over at him, clicking my phone shut in a quick realization that I still had a paper to write. “What thing?” I asked, my voice monotonous and disinterested.

“When you roll your wrist and make that cracking sound.”

I narrowed my eyes--was he serious? My silence made him look up at me and offer a quick smirk before he turned back to his computer.

“Sorry that I don’t live to please you,” I replied coolly. I lifted my feet from the desk and brought them back to the ground, internally bargaining with myself that better posture would lead to better focus.

Harry was quiet for a second. He typed away at his computer and I flipped through the book on my desk, hoping to find whatever inspiration I needed to bang out a quick 6 page paper.

“The other night was terrible,” he said, his eyes peering up sideways at me to see what type of response he’d get out of me.

“It wasn’t terrible,” I corrected him. “It was the first of many nights that I spend with Ethan. Every couple starts somewhere.”

He let out a snort, clearly disagreeing with my description. “And how do you think you’ll spend a bunch of time with him?”

I shrugged. “You really hate me that much that you won’t let me hang out with all of you?”

His face was serious, his lips in a straight line and he blinked twice before responding. “Yes.”

“Harry,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re a dickhead.”

He laughed at this, clearly un-offended by my insult and somewhat entertained by his own answer. His hair was up in a bun, he was clad in a black t-shirt and skinny jeans that seemed to make it hard to sit comfortably. He kept moving around and adjusting (what I could only imagine) was his incredibly small penis.

He didn’t respond, instead, he picked up his phone and opened snapchat--clicking through a selfie from some blonde-haired girl I didn’t recognize. Barf.

“I mean, I guess if you don’t want your little secret to get out,” I trailed off, hoping he’d put two and two together.

“My secret?” He asked, his eyes still on his phone as he snapped a picture of his computer in front of him and typed back some type of message to whatever stupid girl was falling for his sickening charm.

“Yeah,” I said casually. “You know, your” I raised my voice to be above our normal library shift volume. “Arrest record.”

He looked up at my quickly, not as bothered as I expected. “It’s not an arrest record,” he reminded me.

“Well, whatever it is, I’d hate for everyone to know about it.”

He lowered his brows at me, his lips still set in a firm line. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Hanson?”

I shrugged my shoulders and laughed a little. “I mean, you told me about it--it’s not like I had to go digging.”

“Keep quiet about it, yeah? I don’t need your big mouth ruining my chance as a politician.”

“Right cause the skinny jeans didn’t already do that for you,” I nodded seriously, a smirk fighting its way onto my face.

He let out a sigh. “Nora, Nora, Nora. You’re my least favorite person on the planet.”

I looked back to my computer and typed my name on top of the word document. “I can live with that.”

We both looked up when we could feel someone approaching the desk, and Ethan (who carried a water bottle in his hands) smiled at both of us.

“Hey, hi Nora,” he leaned forward on the desk. “Either of you know that someone’s totally drunk on the second floor?”

“What?” Harry asked, pushing his computer back on the desk to stand up. “Jesus Christ.”

“Thanks for telling us,” I said, following Harry’s lead. I followed Harry around the desk and into the main area of the first floor.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow night?”

Harry stopped in his tracks and I my head shot in his direction with raised brows. Tomorrow night? I had no idea what he was talking about--but you bet I was going to be there if Ethan Davis would be in attendance. “You sure will!” I answered for both of us.

With that, Ethan waved and bid us goodnight, heading out of the main doors as Harry and I made a beeline to the stairs.

“What was that about?” I whispered once we were inside the stairwell. Even at a lower volume, my voice echoed against the old walls.

Harry took the stairs two at a time, putting distance between us as he replied. “Just some people coming over, it’s not a big deal. You won’t know anyone.”

“I’ll know you and I’ll know Ethan,” I argued.

He rolled his eyes as he stopped in front of the door to the second floor. He placed his hand on the doorknob and paused. “Nora--fine. You can come. But keep your mouth shut about the whole thing with Luke Billups thing, okay?”

I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Deal.”

**

Not only had I weaseled my way into being invited to whatever type of party was happening at Harry’s on Friday night, but I also weaseled my way into getting a date. So when Kristen and I were stood in the living room, watching as Harry and Niall played pong with Alex and Ryan, I was hopeful that Ethan would be arriving soon.

There were a decent amount of people. A few kids from my major that were friends with Niall, a few guys from the basketball team, a number of girls who seemed to be interested in getting the attention of Harry and his roommates.

Pair that with the lowered lights, the music that was playing way too loud, and the alcohol in every cup, and I was feeling more comfortable by the minute. Even Kristen seemed to be enjoying herself. Georgia Lederman had showed up as well, so we stood in the corner of the room, sipping our drinks and laughing whenever one of the boys did something incredibly stupid.

“Have you seen him yet?” Kristen whispered to me when Georgia got distracted by a fellow classmate.

I shook my head, tilting the rest of my drink back into my mouth. “Nope,” I said defeatedly. “But he’ll be here, he’s the one who brought it up.”

“Anyone need a drink?” Harry’s voice sounded from behind us, I turned suddenly to find him leaning over me, a drunk smile on his face as he waited for our response.

“I’m all set, thanks though,” Kristen smiled up at him.

“I do,” I sighed, somewhat bitter about having to follow him into the kitchen, but also disappointed about the fact that Ethan was still nowhere to be found.

He turned on his heels and started weaving through the living room. I trailed behind, finishing the last of my drink in order to start a new one. Once we were in the kitchen and somewhat separated from the rest of the crowd, I lowered my voice.

“Where’s Ethan?”

Harry pulled a face as he bent into the fridge to grab a beer for himself and a bottle of vodka. “How would I know? He’s not actually my friend.”

“Well you’d have a better idea than I would,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes, taking my cup out of my hands and setting it on the counter. I hoisted myself up, happy to sit on the section of counter that connected into the living room--my back to the crowd--watching as he twisted off the top of the bottle and poured a shot’s worth into my cup. “M’sure he’ll show up eventually. Lemonade or cranberry?”

“Lemonade.”

He poured some in and stirred with a knife. He took a sip first and then handed it over to me. I hopped down and took it, but both of us turned to the door when it opened and revealed more people in the hallway.

Low and behold, Ethan Davis stood behind two other members of the basketball team, a smile on his face as Alex greeted them at the door.

“It’s about time,” I said under my breath, only loud enough for Harry to hear--who only let out a short laugh.

Ethan squeezed his way through the people in the hallway, joining us in the kitchen as he offered hellos. “How’s everybody doin’?”

“Great, hi, how’re you?” I asked, offering a side hug as he leaned into me. Harry made a face but turned around to grab a beer from the fridge, offering it to Ethan without a greeting.

“Good, happy to be here, how are you two? Glad to not be at the library?”

“Totally,” I laughed, sipping at my drink to make myself feel less awkward.

“Actually get to just hang out tonight, right? Must be hard to work with your significant other,” he laughed.

“What?” I tilted my head sideways, sure that I had misheard him. Harry let out some sort of laugh but looked just as interested in Ethan’s next words.

“Aren’t you two, like--y’know--together?”

I pulled my head back and my eyes went wide--I probably couldn’t have made a more disgusted face if I tried. I looked up to Harry quickly, totally unsure of how we’d given Ethan that impression. Maybe it was the bickering. Maybe it was the time Harry pulled me into his bedroom last week in front of Ethan. Whatever it was, Ethan couldn’t have been more--

“Right,” Harry nodded, slinking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. “Yeah, we are, actually.”

“What?” I said again, looking up at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion and annoyance. He smiled down at me and widened his eyes, somehow conveying that he had a plan and that it was in my best interest to go along with it. I let out a sigh, hoping to God that he wasn’t about to screw me over. I twisted my mouth into a small smile. “I thought we weren’t telling anyone about it, babe?”

Harry laughed a little. “Yeah, well, it’s just Ethan. He’s a pal.”

Funny--that was a change of tune from what he’d said five seconds ago. 

Ethan let out a laugh and slapped Harry on the arm. “Happy for you two.”

I forced a grin in his direction--feeling suddenly stuck against Harry’s side and under his arm. Kristen, who was watching on in the corner with Georgia and Kate Levinsky, had the most confused look on her face. She wasn’t the only one.

Ethan got distracted suddenly, pulled into the living room by Ryan to play a round of pong, which gave me the perfect opportunity to pull Harry aside and smack him upside the head for a whole hour. “Excuse me, bedroom, now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at this. “Didn’t know you’d be so willing,” he laughed, only causing me to roll my eyes at his stupid joke. I pulled him by the shirt into his room, shut the door behind us with a thud, and set my drink down on his bedside table to cross my arms.

“Okay, relax,” he said slowly, drawing out the phrase in a mess of slurred words and accent. “That’s the most interested in you he’s seemed. So, you’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?!” I repeated his words in a high pitched voice, my anger getting the best of me.

“Nora, just chill, alright? It’s not real. Just let him think that for a week or something and then you can tell him we ended things and he’ll want to swoop in.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s Ethan Davis,” he shrugged. “He’s kind of that guy.”

I looked at him with wide eyes, expecting him to continue. He sighed again. “Y’know--he has a reputation for being kind of a rebound. He hooked up with Charlotte something in your major. Right after her and Andrew Best broke it off?”

“Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he’d do it again.”

“He did it with Allie Nguyen and Peter Norville too.”

“Okay, but, you don’t know that it means he’s actually like, into that.”

Harry rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t more appreciative of his quick thinking.

“And besides, fake dating is stupid and it won’t work and it would require that we spend more time together outside of the library than we’ve already done this week. Don’t you hate me? Don’t you not want anything to do with me?”

He shrugged. “If it means you’ll keep your mouth shut about what I told you and cover my ass when I’m sometimes late for shifts and if it will get you closer to Ethan so you shut up about him, I’ll do it.”

I sat on his words for a second. He sipped at the beer in his hand and gave me an expectant look, as if he were impatiently waiting for my answer.

It felt stupid. It felt like it was bound to go wrong and things would get weird and complicated and then what if at some point things between me and Ethan actually did work out? What if we ended up married and I’d have to tell him that I lied about being with Harry to make him interested? I could already picture the emotional break up scene with Ethan in my head where he found out I lied and felt betrayed and I didn’t know if I wanted to go through that.

But maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

I let out a breath--and Harry seemed to tilt his head to prompt me to answer him.

“Fine, okay. Fine.”