#like its not even funny how quickly he appeared in that diner

[jaemmphilia]

im craving for service top soft innie male reader please ZIM CRUSHING ON HIM SO HARD

THAT MAKES TWO OF US OMG i love innie sm its not even funny anymore,,,

alright lets set the scene. you and innie are on a super cute date at the botanical gardens, and then you plan to to go to a little diner afterwards because you are starting to complain about being hungry.

he's holding your hand as you both look at all the plants, and you see these really pretty pink flowers. you had never seen any flower like them before. you gasp, quickly pulling out your phone from your pocket.

"innie, take a picture with the flowers! i need a new lock screen!" you say, lightly pushing him over to the flowers. he huffs, but crouches down by the flowers. he sniffs them while you snap a bunch of pictures. once he deems you've taken enough pictures, he stands up straight, groaning like an old man (he's 22, mind you).

"oi, i can't bend down like that. old knees," he says, which makes you laugh. he smiles as you laugh, the sound reminding him of someone strumming the strings of a harp.

"you've been hanging around hyunjin too much. you're becoming too dramatic." you say once your laughs die down into chuckles. you slip your hand in his, your fingers locking with his longer ones. you both walk around for a bit longer, until your stomach decides to make its hunger known by grumbling loudly.

you feel your cheeks and ears get warm and you look away in embarrassment. innie just chuckles before squeezing your hand. "are you getting hungry? i know i am."

you hum in agreement, the two of you walking back to the parking lot where you parked your car.

after a tasty dinner at the diner, the sun has started to set, the moon and stars taking over. you ask innie if he wants you to drop him off at his college dorm, but he shakes his head and says he's staying the night with you.

now, who are you to deny him of that?

so you agree, and you drive him to your apartment just a few blocks away from the campus. you park your car and you get out, making your way to your apartment.

once you both are inside, you feel innie's hands wrap around you from the back. he nuzzles his face into your neck, his dark strands of hair tickling your skin.

you feel him place soft little kisses on your exposed neck, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms. you let out a content hum, and you feel his hand slowly inch towards the hem of your jeans. now you understand.

innie wants to get laaaiiid.

so that's how you find yourself on your bed, rid of all clothes, your boyfriend in between your legs, his mouth wrapped around your hard length.

you're whining and writhing, desperately wanting to buck your hips up into his warm mouth, but he's got a pretty nice grip on your hips. your fists are gripping the duvet below you, wrinkling it. all you can hear are the lewd sounds of slurping and sucking, and you feel like you could explode.

"innie, i cant take anymore," you whine out, bringing your hand down to push his head away from your sensitive dick, but he doesn't budge.

he just keeps sucking, and you end up spilling into his mouth with a sharp cry of his name. you couldn't hold it anymore, and he knew that. your body falls limp as your chest heaves up and down.

innie swallows the load, wiping his mouth with his forearm. he crawls onto the bed, hovering over you. he just smiles fondly at your fucked-out state, his hands pushing your sweaty fringe away from your face. he leans down and kisses you softly, his slender hands softly caressing your chest and stomach. his tongue slips and glides along yours as he swallows any moan that comes from you.

he pulls away from the slobbery kiss, his eyes staring into yours. you can see all the love he has for you in his dark eyes, and it makes your stomach flutter.

"i love you so much, you have no idea," he says, peppering kisses on your tear-stained cheeks. "i want to spend forever with you."

you loop your arms around his neck loosely, your fingers twirling his deep brown locks of hair. "i love you too, innie. i want to be yours for as long as you'll have me."

"that means forever. as soon as we graduate, i'm putting a ring on your finger." he chuckles, his hand inching to your ass. you feel his fingers prodding at your puckered hole, until he slips his pointer finger in.

you let out a soft gasp at the sudden intrusion, your arms tightening around his neck. he slips his finger in and out until he adds in his middle finger. he takes his slow, his eyes watching your face. he doesn't tear his gaze away for a second, he likes watching the faces you make because of his actions.

of course, his own dick is so hard that it's almost painful, but he refuses to chase his own pleasure before yours. he likes to make sure you get the pleasure you need before he does, because he knows that eventually you'll beg to get him off. that's just the dynamic you guys have.

once innie decides that you're stretches enough for his fat dick, he pulls his digits out of you. he adjusts his position so that he's sitting in between your legs. he lines his dick up with your hole, and he pushes the tip in. he drinks in the little whine that falls from your parted lips. his hand finds its place on your lower stomach, this thumb drawing little shapes on the sweaty skin.

he gets his length all the way in, and he starts at a gentle pace. he feels sweat beading at his hairline, short pants coming from him as you clench around his cock.

once you tap his hand, a sign to tell him that you want more, he begins to thrust. he sticks with short but powerful thrusts, the tip of his cock kissing that sweet spot deep inside you.

you start to moan in time with his thrusts, and he honestly believes that he could cum just from hearing the noises you let out. he tries to think about something that isn't related y to you, in hopes of postponing his release a bit longer. he would hate to cut this moment short because he can't control himself around his sexy boyfriend.

you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as innie pounds into you. your body starts to shake, the intense amount of pleasure you feel becoming stronger with every passing second.

you don't even have to announce that you're about to cum, because innie wraps his hand around your cock, his hand jerking up and down. you whine some more, your back arching off the bed.

"my sweet boy is gonna cum, isn't he?" innie asks, his voice bordering on teasing.

"mmh, innie.." you whine again, trying to push his hand away to relieve you from the intense amounts of pleasure. "its too much!"

"if its too much, then why do you keep sucking me in, baby?" he asks, a grunt coming from him as he continues to snap his hips forward, the front of his thighs slapping against the back of yours.

"it feels too good, innie.." you moan out, your back arching higher off the bed, your body convulsing as ropes of white spill from your cock and land on your lower stomach and the rest splattering on your chest.

you see stars as innie picks up the pace, almost animalistic. it isn't much longer until he's spilling his release inside you.

he stays nestled inside you for a bit until you whine about the cum that's starting to dry on your body. you already know he won't allow you to move from the bed until you are all cleaned up and dressed in comfy clothes (which he puts on you himself).

you lay there and allow yourself to be pampered by your foxy boyfriend, and once he's finished, he wraps his entire body around you, giving you kisses all over your face until the two of you doze off into snoozeland.

[beyondmoonriver]

Being experienced at life leaves its mark. Being an experienced MIB agent leaves an even deeper one.

As Kay walks into the office, he doesn’t see or hear – he senses something is off. A group of people stand in a corner and chuckle, looking at something on a phone screen. A couple of others talk in whispers, obviously gossiping. Gossips usually don’t bother Kay, except for those which hinder the work.

“What’s so funny?” he asks Jay when sees his small grin.

“An international scandal,” he replies jokingly and explains, “two guys dropped a cake. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, if it didn’t happen at a Royal wedding, the cake didn’t cost a crazy amount of money and those two weren’t a Prince and Claremont’s son.”

“Now I see why everyone is talking. Couldn’t be any other way, if the First Family is involved. The only question is, why are you interested?”

“‘Interested’ is a strong word, man. I would say,” Jay thinks for a second, “it found me. You’d have to live under a rock to miss this.”

“Or just not be into tabloids and gossip forums,” Kay returns. “Nothing wrong with that, if we’re talking about free time, but I doubt unwanted alien guests would be enthusiastic about your cake stories.”

***

The suspect sits at the table in a corner, waiting for a client to arrive. Jay and Kay watch from a table in an opposite corner. As soon as the client appears, both the buyer and the seller will be captured, but now partners just try to look as casual as possible, as if they are just two friends having lunch and not secret agents.

“How was your trip to Texas?” Jay asks to seem even more normal than, he hopes, he does already. “Nothing new in good old South?”

Kay nods and takes some leaflet out of his pocket to fan himself. The heat is unbearable even in New York, the air in a cheap diner is hot and thick.

“Getting an AC won’t kill them,” Jay mutters.

Kay hands the leaflet over to his partner, and he reads,

“Vote for Democrats, vote for the future. Didn’t take you for this type of guy. I mean, it’s not like you to accept political stuff – or any stuff, really – from strangers.”

“Hard not to when it’s shoved into your hands by Mr. First Son himself.”

“Wait, what?” Jay gasps in surprise. “You saw the First Son?”

“In the flesh. The kid ran up to me in the street, started talking a mile a minute; ‘Hello, Sir, your suit suits you, Sir, have a nice day at your Special Service, Sir!’ And a second later he was already chatting to someone else.”

“At least he didn’t think you were from funeral service”, Jay chuckles.

“You know,” Kay looks at his partner thoughtfully, as if studying him, “you two have something in common.”

“Oh?”

“You both are…” he pauses, looking for a right word.

“Illegally handsome?” Jay winks. “Or charming beyond limits?”

“I was going to say ‘loud’.”

***

One day, several months later, when Kay enters HQ, the office is buzzing. Two young female agents stand right in the doorway and argue, gesturing emotionally.

“Didn’t see that coming! I mean, dating? Them?”

“That was pretty clear to me,” her friend replies boastfully. “The first time I saw them together I knew there was a spark.”

“But why go for him? He gives off those crazy straight-white-male vibes. An odd match for someone not as privileged.”

“Well, turns out, he’s not so straight after all,” she chuckles. She opens her mouth to add something, but then her eyes flicker towards Kay. Both girls stop smiling this instant, mumble their apologies and walk away as quickly as their high heels let them.

“What’s going on?” Kay asks cautiously when he approaches Jay. “You seem to keep track of all the drama.”

“Just people enjoying reading other people’s emails,” Jay sighs. “Pretty fucked up, if you ask me.”

Looking at his partner, Jay notices the signs of tension, invisible to others but clear as day to him, and adds, “It’s not about us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Of course, Kay would never admit he was worried (or that he was capable of worrying in the first place), but his muscles relax a little, face expression softens.

“Those guys,” Jay explains, and for some reason Kay knows whom he means. “Someone hacked their emails, posted on Reddit and leaked to the press. A shitty thing to do. Poor boys.”

“Democrats are doomed,” Kay remarks. “In South, at least.”

“Yeah, things definitely went south for them,” Jay jokes, but his smile is anything but cheerful.

***

“Turns out, the guy’s too serious when it comes to keeping his word.”

They are in some diner again, watching the president’s speech on a TV hanging on a wall behind the counter.

“What do you mean?” Kay asks, his gaze fixed on a blonde young man holding hands with Alexander. He seems familiar, but it’s hard to recall who exactly he was.

“He said he was going to flip Texas, but he flipped the whole damn world,” Jay smiles, looking proud, as if he was secretly cheering for the First Family, both old and new members. “With the UK in the first place.”

Suddenly Kay remembers, and it all falls into place.

“Funny, though,” Jay remarks, “HRH has been in the spotlight for his whole life, but the aliens we welcome don’t look half as scared as he does.”

“Well, usually they don’t come to us after both family and international scandals.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Jay has been sympathetic with them for this whole time. This must be infectious; for some reason Kay can’t help but feel happy for these boys too.

huge thanks to @larsulrichburneracc for pre-reading and giving advice!!

[chilly-me-softly]

Are u going to do a part 3 to the chilly fic its so good <3

Part 1 - Part 2

"I did something stupid" you announce as soon as Mason opens the door to his house, walking in and heading for the living room as if you were at your house.

"You? When have you ever done that in your life" the boy rolls his eyes sarcastically as you glare at him. "This is no time for jokes Mason"

"Okay come here" he claps a hand on the couch after sitting down, inviting you to sit next to him so you don't go back and forth, "What happened"

"Do you promise not to judge?"

"Hmm no but I'm listening" he retorts immediately and a groan escapes your lips as you lower your head and start to doubt at that very moment that that is the right thing to do. But if you don't tell someone, if you don't open up to him, you're gonna go crazy. So you take a deep breath and do your best not to look at him.

"Do you remember how Ben helped me that day? Well I wanted to thank him so I brought him a cake"

"Okay" Mason states looking suddenly curious as to where this is going.

"I just- I used a big plate hoping he might bring it back. But he didn't! Ugh why am I so stupid" it takes him a few seconds to realize the meaning of your words, his body straightening up at the revelation while yours almost wants to get swallowed up by the couch in embarrassment.

"You like Ben? Since when?" but still, his tone isn't judgmental, if anything curious and shocked.

"Mase"

"What? You guys are always fighti- oh"

"What oh" you look at your friend lost as he seems to be lost somewhere in his memory before returning to look at you turning slightly towards you.

"Of course! How the fuck did I miss that" he murmurs, "you acted the same way with Tim Reese when we were sixteen"

"Okay first how do you still remember Tim and second what are you talking about?!" you ask somewhat shocked as he smiles mischievously ready to strike. Oh you knew it wasn't a good idea.

"You were always nervous when it came to him and then when he got close to you you became this impassable fortress of coldness and sarcasm. The poor guy had to sweat to even get a kiss"

"That's not true" you try to defend yourself in vain.

"I might be a little offended you know, you didn't even have a little crush on me"

"Please, you're like my brother ew" you wince as he laughs shaking his head.

"So that's how it is today, it all ends over a plate?"

"It was an excuse Mase" you roll your eyes, "if he wanted to see me again he'd know how to hook me up" in short you had even sent each other a few messages, just to test the waters not knowing how far you could go at the time. But your relationship had never been just about the two of you and there was always that fear of ruining that little step forward lurking.

"Maybe who knows, he needs some kind of push too. Ben isn't the cocky guy he wants to appear after all"

"You know something I don't Mase" you look at him inspectively, him raising an eyebrow. "I won't say anything about him if I can't do otherwise"

"No mh-mh forget it" you shake your head firmly, Mason could talk to you about Ben all he wanted no one would know and you still knew how to handle a rejection by acting like nothing happened. But Ben knowing about your feelings and not returning them... no thanks, you didn't need any more embarrassment in your life to deal with.

"Well then you'll never know what he thinks of you"

"What's he even supposed to think, that I'm a crazy person who always has a say in everything and out of pity helped when I was sick" you shrug as he smiles knowingly, he's never going to tell you how worried his friend seemed in the days following your illness or how he was trying to find out something under the radar. Not if he can't tell him that he might find the door open if he wants to join your world. But as sure as hell he would have done something.

-

You correct yourself. That's the moment you know it wasn't a good idea to tell Mase.

He had asked you a couple of times if you were going to watch the game that saturday, he always did that when there were tough games because he said you were his good luck charm even though it wasn't true and most of the time they won or lost regardless of your presence. However, you had already cleared your whole schedule for that day and so he had extended the invitation to a drink after the game.

Nobody had lost, nobody had won. There was regret for a few wasted chances, but nothing that couldn't spur them on to do better the next game. You'd driven to the stadium in your car, not wanting to wait for Mason after the last time he'd made you wait over an hour outside, having him tell you where he wanted to go after the game and waiting for him there.

The place isn't that crowded and you can occupy a table further away, ordering something while you wait and taking the book out of your bag while resuming your reading.

"Hi" a voice makes you shift your gaze from those pages and you're bewildered to see Ben take a seat in front of you.

"Hi Ben"

"Mase said he'd meet us in a bit, he had something to do" the boy shrugs, "but I'm certainly not going to wait for him to order"

"Go ahead, I've already helped myself" you place the bookmark on the page you are on then put it in your bag and before you can let your eyes rest on Ben again, your phone alerts you to the arrival of a new message.

As soon as you see that it's Mason you get a bad feeling, and as soon as you open your conversation you see that he has sent you a picture of a diner where he is with some of the other guys. And it's definitely not the one you and his teammate are in.

"Son of a bitch"

"What?" Ben's voice makes you raise your head in alarm, suddenly you feel nervous and you want to strangle your friend and you want to bury yourself because what are you gonna do now. All while he looks at you expectantly.

"Um eh I- that wasn't meant for you" you murmur pathetically sighing and handing him your phone, "Mason's not coming"

"I don't understand" Ben looks at that picture with furrowed brows, but you can't read his expression.

"Look I'm sorry he set you up for this really. Um we can go and pretend like nothing happened" you stammer trying to pick up your bag and jacket deliberately trying not to look him in the eye and you try to get up but he stops you.

"Woah hey wait, wait. I'm not letting you go anywhere so upset" he is quick to grab the chair and move closer to you, if he wanted to calm you down he certainly isn't succeeding like this.

"Easy now, just try to explain what's going on please"

"Ben really it's not- it's just Mason okay? I just need to beat him up and then I'll be better" a soft laugh escapes his lips and you find yourself huffing but giggling at the same time.

"Nothing wrong with that. Just answer one of my questions first?" you nod losing focus for a moment as one of his thumbs starts stroking the back of your hand.

"He tried to set us up"

"Is that a question?" you ask struggling to swallow, your voice coming out weak and shaky. What's going on?

He shakes his head slightly, "Do you like me? That's my question" and if before it was difficult to find air now it seems like everything has closed for good. There you go, is that how you're going to die? In front of Ben of all people, and still before you can get revenge on Mason for that low blow?

"Cause Mason probably knows I fancy you-"

"You what?" you croak.

"-but he wouldn't have done that if he didn't know something else" his cheeks are slightly red, so he's feeling all that sudden heat too then!

"Ben I..."

"It's okay, it's okay. Look we're in the same boat here, if anything I'm a lot more exposed than you are at the moment because I've revealed to you how I feel and you haven't really let me know that I haven't really fucked up"

"No!" instinctively you lean forward and you don't know why you actually did it, but the sound of your foreheads colliding together resonates loudly. "Ouch I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh my god are you okay?" geez you feel so stupid, embarrassed like a teenager struggling with her first crush and as clumsy as you've ever been... or don't like to remember.

"I've taken worse balls" he tries to lighten the situation but your now worried look doesn't seem to want to give way to anything else as you gently test his forehead.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe somewhere less crowded?"

"Yes please" you find yourself nodding and after paying quickly exit the building, Ben firmly takes your hand guiding you to the opposite side of your cars.

Neither of you speak on the way, you're lost in your head trying to calm yourself down to get your thoughts in order and not embarrass yourself further. He glances at you from time to time, what he is thinking you cannot know.

You arrive at the park and after a few more minutes of walking you sit down in a fairly secluded area except for a few people walking quietly on the stone path not far from you.

"You were pretty worked up in there" Ben breaks the silence.

"Being taken by surprise throws me off. Probably if I had known you were coming I would have been prepared, and imagined all the possible situations I might find myself in"

"Do you do this often? I mean do you never live in the moment?"

"Obviously I can't predict everything that's going to happen to me in a day, but the important things I like to know in advance so I can leave the anxiety at home and not risk headbutting people" a laugh breaks free in the air and when you look at him you feel lighter, nothing like the you of moments before.

"And to answer your question, yes I like you Ben. That day you helped me I think it helped me realise that"

"Funny, I realized it that day too"

"Sorry I must have looked like a weirdo" the awkwardness comes back overpowering again as he shakes his head moving closer to you some more.

"You were cute. Different from how you show yourself to others" you smile slightly dipping your teeth in your lower lip. "Now, do you still want to beat up Mase?"

"You betcha" you reply promptly causing him to laugh, "but not right now"

[cloud9in]

Driving Lessons Pt 2 (Poppy x Bea)

Long awaited. I hope you all enjoy. This is the finale of the series but I think that Bea and Poppy’s high school stories should be continued.....

Read Part 1 HERE

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @baexpoppy @poppysmc @clowneryme @thedaft1 @zigxryanz @aleiramacaii

Word Count: 2.6k 

Pt 2: The Date

Friday night had arrived and Bea’s nerves were at an all time high. She practiced breathing exercises that conveniently popped up on Youtube, there was no room for thoughts other than that of a blonde cheerleader. The buzz of her phone prompted her to jump up in excitement. 

1 message from Poppy🙄

 Poppy: I’m 99% sure that you haven’t forgotten about our “date” tonight. But if you did I’m not here to remind you. I’ll be here in 5 minutes. Remember, dress casual. ❣

 A familiar grin crept its way onto Bea’s lips as she reread the message about twenty times, taking note of the heart at the end. It may seem conventional, but even that was a lot coming from Poppy. Another message popped up which induced a smirk from the brunette. 

 Poppy: No, I am not driving the Benz.

 Bea set her phone down and spun around to check herself out in the mirror. She wore black ripped jeans with a red plaid design in the holes, red converse, and an oversized grey and black long sleeve. This should definitely fit Poppy’s definition of casual, right? 

 The blonde arrived outside of Bea’s house just as she reached the front door. Poppy was the first to react, her jaw threatening to drop open as she took in Bea’s appearance, all of it. Luckily, she was the queen of poker face’s and masked her thirsty expression….Bea on the other hand, failed horribly. She stood there wide eyed, her hands hanging uselessly by her sides as she studied the blonde. Poppy wore a white and pink checkered wool skirt, a knitted pink sweater, and a white crop top. Her jewelry also dazzled brightly against her neck. The blonde watched Bea amusingly, “you can quit ogling me now...:”

 Bea darts her eyes away self consciously. “Your uh...jewelry is distracting.” Really Bea. Nice going. She winces at her excuse and Poppy arches an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the flustered mess of the brunette in the moment. 

 “Hmm..well come now. I don’t like to waste time.”

 Like a puppy being offered food, Bea follows Poppy into her silver Range Rover. She gapes at the pristine interior and the stars on the ceiling. “I thought those star things only existed in Rolls Royce’s.” Poppy smirks appreciatively, her fingers flexing on the steering wheel, “Oh they do, but I have my ways.”

 Bea tries to convince Poppy to tell her where they’re going, but she scoffs immediately, not even turning her head in the brunette’s direction. “It’s a surprise.”

 “I didn’t take you for a girl that likes surprises to be honest.”

 “Well then there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hughes.”

Bea fought the urge to ask Poppy to elaborate, to tell her every last detail about her. What flavor of ice cream she liked, what she loved to do on a rainy day, but there’s that moment of insecurity  that pushes her away from indulging in those thoughts. She didn’t want to seem overly-interested.

 But maybe that’s what Poppy wanted.

 The sudden quietness becomes obvious and Poppy peers over at the brunette, “I could always let you test drive this one. Maybe brush up on your driving skills?” Bea side eyes Poppy suspiciously, memories of Monday night’s driving lessons infiltrating her mind. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now..”

 “Of course I’m not! You don’t think I remember what you did to my other baby?! You’re lucky you were hurt in the process, otherwise who knows what I would have done…” Poppy glances quietly over at Bea, her eyes carefully scanning the scar that sits on her forehead.

 Bea smiles sheepishly, her hand reaching up to move her locks back. “I don’t think I wanna know- wait hey! What do you mean I was lucky-”

 “Oh please, you were lucky that I took you to a hospital. You are crazy Hughes, you know that?”

 “Crazy for you? Well now that you mention it…”

 Poppy rolls her eyes but can’t stop the smile that erupts on her face. “...Just let me take a look at it later. I need to make sure it’s healing right.”

 “Whatever you say doctor!” Bea mock salutes the blonde which earns another heavy eye roll, emphasis on heavy, but she didn’t mind. The opportunity to be less than an inch away from Poppy’s luscious lips again? Hell yes.

 “Okay, but what did your dad say? I’m sure he understood it was a complete accident.”

 “Mhm tell that to the insurance company. Which reminds me, you will be receiving a bill in the mail sometime next week for all the damages.”

 Bea nearly leaped out of her seat as her head snapped towards the blonde, who looked like she was having a great time. “Pop...you’re joking right...that is a thing you are doing right now.” Poppy rolls her eyes with enjoyment, letting out a soft chuckle. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Farmsville, I know you can’t even afford a tire. 

 “Wha-...hey!”

 ***

 After continuous bickering which almost prompted Poppy to unlock the passenger side door and kick Bea out...psychically, while they were doing 80 on the freeway, she eventually pulled into a parking lot. The only main source of light was the huge sign illuminating the words, “Animal Shelter”. Bea blinks in confusion for a few seconds before realizing she was the only one in the car. Poppy had already started walking towards the entrance, greeting a man with a….smile? Oh yeah, Bea was definitely curious now. Poppy actually looked relaxed when Bea had finally caught up with her. The blonde noticed her approach and hummed to herself, “took you long enough, hurry lets go inside.”

 “Pops-did you take a wrong turn...this is an animal shelter...”

 The blonde rolls her eyes so far back into her brain as she grasps onto Bea’s words. “No I did not take a wrong turn you imb--.....this..this is the place I picked.” The brunette flicks her eyes continuously between Poppy and the entrance before shrugging, a surprised expression on her face. Before Bea could say anything else, Poppy grabs her hand and pulls them into the store and into the column where cute puppies reached for them. A beautiful smile immediately lit up Poppy’s features as she bent down to pet one of the baby bulldogs. This gesture immediately enraptured Bea as she watched...Poppy? Or whoever this was. 

 Not wanting to disturb the moment Bea leans down to the cage next to her and picks up the golden retriever who happily licks her face. “Woah okay there boy, a little too much tongue.” She holds up the puppy as he barks playfully and wiggles in her arms. 

 “I’m definitely not complaining about your destination of choice, but can you tell me why you picked it?” 

 Bea gazes over at Poppy who looks like she’s in her true element. The blonde sighs and stands up, brushing her skirt down. “Well my parents own the place…and well to put it bluntly, some of these animals don’t have much time left.” 

 She turns towards Bea, watching her safely caress the puppy in her arms, and smiles, “I figured you have a close connection with animals and would want to make them feel loved before they go.” 

 Bea watches Poppy with a warm look in her eyes, and it was funny because Bea had been around the cheerleader a lot, but this...was different. Almost incredible. And Bea knew that this was the start of a feeling that she would never get enough of. 

 “I would. Thank you.” 

 The two girls spend a good amount of time playing with the animals. Poppy helped Bea feed newborn strays with a bottle of milk, more than often grabbing a hold of the brunette’s hand to steady the slight tremble. Bea didn’t want to admit she was nervous because Poppy was very close to her. And Poppy would never admit that Bea was doing everything right, but she wanted to hold her hand because it felt incredibly soft for a girl who worked on a farm everyday. 

 But she wasn’t the only one who was very observant that night. Bea kept her mouth shut about the situation, but this new side of Poppy blew her mind. There was so much to ask, to say, but the moment was too valuable to ruin. 

 The time seemed to go by quickly as the shelter started to close down. The time they spent with the animals felt fulfilling but Bea never missed the solemn look on Poppy’s face as she watched one of the older cats rest peacefully. There was so much to learn about the girl, and Bea thought it was best that she kept this date going.

 Food. That could work. 

 “Hey pops...I know I said you could pick the place but there’s somewhere else I want to take you. If you’re up for it.” 

 If it was anyone else, Poppy probably would have cussed at them for taking up too much of her time. But this was Bea, and something in her couldn’t say no. “As long as it doesn’t involve you and I in a forest alone.” The brunette laughs easily, wrapping her arm around Poppy’s waist without a second thought. “Oh please, do you really think that’s how I’d get rid of you?” 

 Poppy seems to lean into her touch, letting her strawberry blonde locks brush up against Bea’s cheeks, “I doubt you’d be the one getting rid of me darling, but sure.” 

 ***

“....Alright I take it back! I’ll even let you drive the car because I am not eating at a diner.”

 “Oh come on, they have the best milkshakes in town!”

 The brunette drags Poppy towards the diner without letting go because if she did, Poppy would probably scream bloody murder in the middle of the lot. 

 Bea led her towards a booth in the back, only then freeing her arm. Poppy plops into the seat after realizing there was no way she could charm her way out of this. “Don’t look so bummed out, you’ll change your mind when you try the famous strawberry milkshake.” 

 “I have never had a milkshake in my life.” Poppy visibly cringes, her posture stiffening at the thought of a sugary liquid infiltrating her body. 

 “Well today is your lucky day baby.” Bea winks at her and calls over a waitress who seems too comfortable with laying a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. It wasn’t evident whether the severe blush on Poppy’s face was because of Bea unknowingly using a pet name or because of the mystery girl who decided to do the most in her presence. 

 “We’ll have the regular Tasha, oh and the strawberry milkshake please.” 

 “Just one? What about your friend over here?”

 Poppy snaps her head up at the waitress who seemed to scan her every move. Something Poppy was definitely used to. Her hands are the first to make a move, slowly trailing their way up Bea’s arm from across the table. She doesn’t take her eyes off the waitress as she speaks softly. “Oh we’ll be sharing it honey. Put a cherry on top too okay?”

 The waitress reverts her eyes from the two and walks away without a word. Poppy watches her leave, biting her lip with satisfaction. 

 Bea can’t help but smirk to herself. “Oh you cannot take your eyes off of her can you? Relax, she’s an old friend.”

 The blonde scoffs, keeping her hands on the surface of Bea’s skin. “I don’t care who she is. Does she flirt with every customer in here? What happened to having class? Or some sort of decent? I mean do you talk to pigs like this?

 Bea squints her eyes and sighs warily. “Poppy this is not a five star restaurant, and that’s what you call being polite and kind to well known customers. People here are normal, not trained robots.” 

 Poppy shrugs to herself, her eyes darting around to the wall decorations and other people who are chatting happily with their families. The atmosphere did feel warm and peaceful, nobody sat up straight and practiced proper table manners. Nobody judged her for who she was or what designer she wore. There was room to actually breathe. Bea could sense the blonde slowly starting to adapt and relax in their new environment and she couldn’t be more grateful for making the right decision. When their food had come, Bea slid the milkshake towards Poppy and smiled shyly. “It’s all yours if you like it, we don’t have to share.” 

 “Nonsense Hughes, I can’t possibly drink this all by myself…but I call dibs on the cherry.” She steals the cherry from the top and plops it into her mouth, eyes sparkling from the burst of flavor. It was nothing compared to the milkshake though, Poppy swore she saw stars when tasting the sweet liquid. Bea laughs as a whipped cream mustache develops on the blonde’s lips after hogging the shake for herself.  

 ***

 “I’m paying for our next date by the way.” 

 Bea peers over at Poppy who walked her to her front door, “oh so there’s gonna be another one?” She can’t help but smile at Poppy’s sudden shyness. 

 “Well I enjoyed tonight, a lot. Maybe more than a lot.”

 “I did too.”

 The silence that consumed them wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but it was enough to make them stare at each other. Bea’s mind started to fog as she thought about finally closing the distance between them. She wanted nothing more than to mask the silence with a kiss. Bea looks at Poppy, who seems to be lost in thought. 

 “What are you thinking?”

 “What?”

 “You’re usually deep in thought when your eyebrows scrunch together like that. Or maybe you’re just planning on jumping me as soon as I turn around.”

 Poppy smiles softly. “Do you know the feeling when the thing you wanted the most is right in front of you, yet it still feels unreal and almost impossible.” 

 Bea takes a deep breath and nods, “I do.” 

 Okay Hughes you’re gonna kiss her in 3. You’re gonna make the move. Come on. 

 But of course Poppy had other plans. 

 “Mmh!”

 The feeling of Poppy’s soft lips had caught Bea completely off guard. A hum of pleasure escaped her mouth as the heat started to increase between them. Bea grabbed hold of Poppy’s cheek and steadied the kiss, her eyes slowly started to shut as she sunk into the warm, smooth feeling. Bea smiles into the kiss as Poppy’s tongue begins exploring the depths of her mouth, and she bites back a moan when the blonde takes her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging it slightly, feeling the desire pooling in the pit of her stomach. Poppy places her lips back on Bea’s, passion igniting once more as Bea begins to dominate the kiss, her hands finding her way to the blonde’s waist, pulling her in even closer. 

 Poppy felt like she could kiss Bea forever, if it wasn’t for the need of oxygen. When they both finally pulled back, the blonde laughed with joy. “That felt so amazing.” 

 Bea wanted to blow a huge sigh of relief that Poppy initiated the kiss, because imagine fucking that up. She just held her close and basked in the moment. Her lips swelled with excitement as she still felt the ghost of Poppy’s tongue tracing it. Poppy always had something to say, but right now there was so much more she could do. And the first thing she would do is finally make Bea hers.

***

if you want to be tagged in any Poppy fics let me know.

[ssamie]

six. “friends die together”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide 

masterlist.           suicide freak!

kenma slowly opened his eyes. the dim rays of the sun were slowly peeking through his bedroom window as he stretched and rolled around his bed, wrapping himself up in a blanket burrito as he felt his eyes slowly fluttering close once again. 

it had been atleast a week since he's actually gotten sleep, and now he's just trying to relish in the feeling of rest before he completely disregards it again. 

all of a sudden, his phone rang. 

"what the.." he mumbled with a groan 

it was currently five in the morning, and he knew kuroo was smart enough not to call him. especially since kenma would usually just be gaming or would just straight up ignore him. 

"hello?" he muttered to the phone, not bothering to check the ID 

"good morning!" y/n's chirpy la-di-da voice resonated from the phone 

immediately, kenma groaned and rolled his eyes. he had to fight the urge of hanging up the phone then and there. 

"what do you want? and why are you calling me so early in the morning?" kenma asked 

"now, now! don't be so stingy kenma-kun!" she laughed "i just wanted to check up on ya, that's all" she said, followed by soft humming of a melody 

kenma blinked as he groggily listened to her words. "oh. okay.." 

"thanks for that, i guess.." he said 

"aww! your voice is all deep and gravelly in the morning! very hot." she chirped 

kenma sighed. he could practically sense the stupid flirty smile appearing on her face. "and you sound oh so happy. as always." kenma chirped back sarcastically

a small smile grazed his lips as she started laughing on the other line. 

"oh, kenma! you're so funny!" she chuckled "when have i ever been happy?" 

"wait what-" 

"anyways, kenma-kun.." she trailed off, her cheerful tone now dropped as an eerily serious and guarded one replaced it. 

"y-yes?" kenma gulped 

"im afraid im in a tight spot as we speak. its quite critical. please come to the location i will send you." she spoke in a monotonous tone 

"huh? wait!" kenma exclaimed. he sat up on his bed, subconsciously reaching for his nekoma jacket which was messily laid out on the foot of his bed. "what are you talking about?" he asked, his hands were shaking, as well as his voice. 

"its a crisis! only you can help!" she said 

"okay. i-i'll be there.." 

humming under her breath, y/n patiently waited for kenma to arrive. she didn't have so much faith at first, but once she heard the soft thumping of feet on the ground, she grinned. 

"w-what happened?" kenma asked through ragged breaths as he skidded to a halt infront of her "a-and what are you wearing?" kenma asked 

he took notice of her rather formal attire, laying underneath the sand colored coat she had. his brows then shot up as he calmed his ragged breathing. 

"is this because of your weird detective work thing? did you get trapped?" kenma asked worriedly. when she didn't answer, he simply panicked even more. "why did you call me?! you should've called those other detective people!" kenma exclaimed 

"i got in myself" she admitted with a small innocent smile 

"what?" kenma deadpanned, now starting to regret running atleast eight blocks just to help her 

"well, you see.. i heard there's a way to commit suicide by getting stuck in an oil drum. so i decided to give it a shot" she said with the same innocent smile. she then chuckled sheepishly as she started sinking deeper into the oil drum. 

"but now that i've wedged myself in this deep, i can't get out on my own" she said 

kenma simply stared her down, looking unamused, tired and annoyed. "i see." he says 

"i think i might die" she pouted as she sank deeper into the drum. 

kenma grunted and sat on the ground, sitting a few feet from the drum she was stuck in. he was kind of impressed on how her whole body hadn't snapped in two yet. 

"well, isn't that what you wanted?" kenma said with a huff of annoyance 

"i like suicide" she said with a scoff, sounding somewhat offended "but i don't like suffering and pain! why would i?" 

"i see" kenma said with a sigh. he sat up from the ground and narrowed his eyes, trying to look for a way to free her from the oil drum

"also, i learned this only after i stuffed myself in here, but it wasn't even a suicide method!" she laughed 

"but, it was actually a torture method from the-" 

before she could even finish her sentence, she was cut off as kenma pushed the oil drum over, sending her and the drum rolling off. he let out a huge breath of air as he cradled his aching hands. 

"ni-nice job, kenma-kun" she squeaked out as she wiggled free of the drum. "but now.. we have only an hour left before school starts" she said as she patted down her clothes and combed her fingers through her hair 

"and i heard from nekomata-san that he has some news that you boys would surely love" she said as she stretched her aching muscles 

"are we really gonna move past the fact that you wedged yourself in an oil drum!?" kenma exclaimed in aggravation 

". . ." she looked at him with a dumb smile before sending him a wink and a thumbs up. 

"yep! we sure are!" 

"i hate you so much" kenma muttered 

she smirked teasingly and loomed over his shoulder "hehehe~ well if you hate me so much, then why go through all the trouble to help me?" she cooed 

kenma scoffed and flicked her away. "because we're.." he trailed off "nevermind.." a small blush covered his cheeks faintly, but it was enough to get her attention. 

she chuckled lowly and poked his cheeks. she narrowed her eyes and tauntingly stared him down. "oya? what's this, kenma-kun? do you like me or something?~" she teased 

kenma flinched and covered his cheeks with his hands "no! no i don't!" he quickly denied "i just thought that.." he muttered quietly

"since we're friends and all.. i thought it'd be right to help you.." kenma admitted bashfully 

stunned from his words, she couldn't really do anything but stare at him blankly with widened eyes. "we're friends?" she asked 

kenma spluttered at her response, suddenly feeling anxious and embarrassed, thinking that he overstepped their 'relationship' 

"um- i mean.. i just thought that since we've been hanging out but.." kenma said nervously. he fiddled with his hands as he looked down at his feet, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. 

"sorry, i guess i overstepped. sorry for misreading things" he apologised 

finally realising what she's done, she gasped in horror as she looked at his heartbroken expression  "oh my gosh." she muttered "im so sorry!" 

she frantically patted his back, and stroked his hair "i-i meant like- i didnt know you considered me as a friend!" she exclaimed  "i kind of thought you just see me as a suicidal leech or something!" she shrieked 

"im sorry kenma! kill me now!" she exclaimed dramatically 

kenma finally looked up to see her tearing some of her bandages off, only for her to tie it tightly around her neck. 

"im sorry!" she cried as she squeezed tightly, trying to strangle herself to death 

"wait! don't do that!" kenma said in panic. his hands pried the bandages off and hastily threw them away. 

"you don't have to kill yourself over me" kenma sighed 

she sniffled and crushed him in her arms "kenma! you are most certainly my most treasured friend!" she cried 

"i would die for you and with you!" 

"let's not go too far" kenma said with a small smile 

"shall we start with the double suicide now?" she asks, fully ignoring his interjection 

"no <3" 

"fukurodani?" she muttered, looking quite confused and clueless 

"yes. it seems a three-day practice match has been scheduled" nekomata said with a smile  "their coach suggested the idea and who was i to decline, am i right?" nekomata chuckled 

"this will be a good opportunity for the team to train and explore new ways of playing for future tournaments." nekomata then looked at y/n and sent her a close eyed smile. "and a chance for you to test your managing skills, y/n-san" he said 

she nodded in agreement. 

"well then, now that that's settled.. you’re free to go! rest up and eat well! you'll be playing nonstop starting tomorrow" nekomata said as he ushered them out of the gym 

"thanks, coach!" the team yelled 

as the team arrives by the gate, they started to disperse. fukunaga, inouka, teshiro, and shibayama ended up declining the offer of an afterschool hangout. they claimed they needed the rest for upcoming games, so they left them be. 

"bye guys! bye y/n-senpai! see you tomorrow!!" inouka yelled from across the street. the energetic first year was waving both his arms around while shibayama drags him along. fukunaga sends them a quick nod and a small wave before they completely disappear from sight. 

"hm, so what do you guys wanna do?" kai asks with a smile 

"let's eat!" lev suggested with a grin 

"sure. where should we go? i don't really have a particular craving right now" kai said as he looked at his friends expectantly 

"we should eat at the diner near that convenience store" yaku says "it's cheap and they serve great food" 

simply humming to herself, y/n takes a quick look at the boys who seemed to be lost in their own conversations. her (e/c) colored eyes then landed on kenma, who seemed to busy with his game. 

kuroo was holding on his bag, making sure the pudding-head wouldn't walk into oncoming traffic. she smiled at the boy, taking in his overwhelmingly beautiful features. 

yamamoto was beside her, ranting about his friends from karasuno and their 'goddess of a manager' 

"we’re here!" lev unnecessarily announced as he skipped into the said diner.  "what should we eat?" he asks 

"fish-" ; "meat-" 

yaku and kuroo freeze and look at each other. their eyes silently roam one another as they look at the other with judgment. 

"hah? are we really doing this again, yakkun?" kuroo scowled. the taller bedheaded male leaned down to get all up in yaku's face, while the latter simply did the same 

"dont call me that stupid nickname, bedhead!" yaku scowled as well "and fish? pssh, what are you a grandpa?" yaku said with a snicker 

"could you stop making comments proving you lack docosahexaenoic acid?" kuroo sneered in aggravation 

"you're ought to eat more fish to fix that.. maybe even your height problem!" kuroo taunted 

yaku scowled and gripped the taller boy's collar "your stupid face is begging to be hit!" 

"no! kuroo-san, don't let him hit you!" lev yelled "he's feral!" 

"oi! shut up!" taketora hissed as he covered lev's mouth with his hand 

yaku turned to face lev, evidently irked and angered by his comment. "hah?! come here, you tall lampost! -" 

"wah! yaku-san i didnt even do anything!" lev exclaimed with teary eyes as the shorter boy continued to kick him 

kai and taketora then took initiative to calm their friends down. partially because they didn't want anyone injured. but mostly because they were fighting infront of the diner, and it was starting to get embarrassing. 

"ke-n-ma~" she cooed in a sing song tone 

kenma sighed and quickly glanced at her, before averting his attention back to his game "what?" he said 

she smiled and laced their arms together. she then pointed to a bridge not so far away from where they were standing. "you see that bridge?" she asked "and the pretty river under it?" 

"oh god. i see where this is going." kenma groaned. he turned off his game and followed her finger, eyeing the bridge she was talking about. 

"wouldn't it be so nice if we just jump off-" 

"how about we don't do that?" kenma cut her off with a sigh 

"but you're my friend right?" she whined childishly "don't friends die together?!" 

"how about we don't die at all. doesn't that sound better?" kenma tried to convince her with a sheepish smile 

her smile fell as she narrowed his eyes, seemingly disgusted and offended by his statement. 

"what? no, not at all." 

[rivaille-13]

Any updates on the status of the stallion Mikasa stole?

Well I guess here you go. (￣^￣)ゞ

After The War; Jean, For Good.

A mini spin-off about what happened to Jean after the war... and the stolen stallion. It took place in Chapter: ? Segment: ? Missing chapter

Pairings: Implied Mikasa Ackerman & Levi / Jean Kirschtein & Pieck Finger

Jean, For Good.

His knocks were useless.

He looked at his frostbite fingers—all swollen and red, and the chilly weather was indeed not a joke at all. Even though if his knuckles would bleed and his eyes would turn white, he could assume that no one will answer the secret-like door.

And just as what Connie said: “Never disturb at twilight times.”

Jean sighed. He ran a hand to his dirty blonde hair, almost shooing the countless snowflakes that took shelter in his head. It had been roughly fifteen minutes since he was there. It was no twilight times at that time but only fifteen hundred hours and yet it was still useless.

I guess I’ll just go some other time.

He placed his hand in his pocket, and the other hand began to grab the bouquet of washcloths and broom. Well, at least, it was the thought that counted.

He walked away and whistled hard.

“Erwin, stay boy...” The slight tremble and faltered of his voice was what it took him over. He strode towards the white stallion, and how funny because even though he knew that the man was five years dead, the respect he had for Commander Erwin would still lay at the bottom of his heart.

It was all Captain Levi’s idea. Jean didn’t have enough time to know whether Captain Levi was just playing with his dark humor or was he just that serious. It all happened so suddenly; One busy day last week was when Connie brought a horse to the small house he bought.

“Horseface, take Erwin for the night.”

“God, Connie... will you stop impersonating Captain Levi? Your face disgusts me.”

Connie only snickered when he threw a boot right into his face. Oh, just like the old good times. Just like the times at the barracks, at the cabin, and at the sea. Those laughters that only reminded him of the good memories of potato girl—Sasha.

He sighed. “Fine, but can you at least respect the former commander?”

“Then call the stallion ‘Commander Erwin’, Jeanbo. It was Captain Levi’s idea, not me, nuh-uh.”

Connie was still dumb as ever, perfect reason why he wouldn’t have a woman to date. Not like him.

Which brought him back to the thought of having a woman to marry, and not just to date. He jumped as he mounted himself onto Erwin the horse, then gave a final glance towards the house he just visited.

He huffed another cold breath of air.

Truth was, Jean was torn between choosing Pieck or Hitch. Hitch was a built up relationship where Hitch was the person by his side when he was moving on from his one-sided love interest with Mikasa. He knew how the girl stayed with him throughout his lonesome times, and it was no banter that he really did fall for the said blonde girl. Their relationship was a good start, and he wouldn’t deny how things had already worked for the both of them. Not like Pieck, she was just a one-night stand that came from a needed sexual tension that must be release after the war.

But hearing those words from Captain Levi in that alfresco diner... made him choose another decision for himself. A selfless one he could admit, yet it was also a heavy burdensome choice where he would be leaving Hitch.

For good.

“Calm down boy, I know it’s freezing, so we better move home.”

Jean patted Erwin the horse and off he gently slapped the stallion’s rare as it galloped fast home.

Ugh, home.

He remembered his mother. Those warm homemade omelettes that would sometimes be paired with curry sauce or cutlets of pork. How he loved munching those when he was a kid, oh, well until now that he was an adult bearded man. And it was such a shame to remember that he once made his mother a fool to everyone’s eyes.

But things did change and so was he.

He became gentle with his mother. He stopped playing his frivolous night-stands with women. And just like Captain Levi said, he better be responsible for the child. No matter what.

Jean broke up with Hitch for the better. It did hurt that even left them in tears, but he thought for the better, that raising a child alone would definitely be such a pain in the ass. He should know that well because he was fatherless too.

He pulled the reins of Erwin when he stopped by the enticing meadows on the western side of Chlorba. The flowers had already wilted because of the snow, but when the sun touched the line where it meets the ground, he couldn’t stop asking himself one thing.

What did Mikasa see in Captain Levi?

“Easy, hey!”

Well, it appeared that even Erwin the horse was Captain Levi’s reincarnated liege. He chuckled as he shrugged and silently told Erwin that he was happy for the said couple, it was just that he was curious for Captain Levi stood like an ideal man.

He paused for a moment when he noticed a small flower that had its petal up underneath the blanket of the snow. He jumped from Erwin and quickly pulled the flower from its root, and what a fortune because it was not even dormant.

And that was for the woman he was about to learn to love, for Pieck Finger. For good, small, and light beginnings. It wasn’t like the world would stop when he found a new woman in his life. His daughter was born a month ago in Marley, and all thanks to Historia that he was given the opportunity for a fast Class-A trip. Nervous as he was, even his hands were shaky and his chin was trembling, but the moment he had seen his daughter, everything else didn’t matter.

Just like Captain Levi said: “Whatever your choices are, just take responsibility for the faultless child.”

And maybe, in a world without walls could he truly live a life he wanted. A life where he would be drinking the finest wine, all too serene in a balcony while observing the tranquil scene of his wife and his daughter.

Home. Yes, home.

He galloped fast with Erwin towards the city of Trost, and even though the city was still meters away, he could gladly hear the jolly Christmas carols and could even see the blinking Christmas lanterns.

He had already asked her hand in marriage, and in two weeks time, would he be able to tie the knot.

But for now, he’ll first guide Erwin to the new stable he ordered at his newly bought house. He might call Connie afterwards that it was his fault for making him go to the house he had visited only to have his knuckles bleed. He’ll even ring a call to his mother to celebrate the Christmas holiday with him and his little family.

And he would, definitely he would, kiss his daughter’s reddish cheek the moment he stepped inside his house.

For good.

End

So there you go! Please pardon if my grammar is like a drunk skunk, I just wrote this on my notes while having a break in writing the last chapter. I hope it answered your question about the stolen stallion but with a twist of PikuJean spin-off as requested by many. (:

[huntertales]

Part Two: Watch Your Tone With Me, Boy. (Bad Boys S09E07)

Episode Summary: When an old friend of Dean’s asks for help to solve a murder, Sam and the reader discover that the older Winchester as a secret past—one that will help solve the hunt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,533.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You slipped the knife back into the waistband of your jeans and adjusted your jacket when you saw Ruth visibly relax a little bit to see that it was just you. And not some ghost that was supposedly haunting this place. You were an avid believer in the fact that every home had its own set of spirits and secrets. Eventually they struck without warning, but never without reason. It was your job to find out and put a stop to it before someone else could get hurt. Lucky for you, Ruth was more than a local. She knew the ins and outs of this farm since she was little. And even better, the tragic history from the previous owners and how Jack was tangled up in all of this mess. 

"I grew up in this town. I used to come up here as a little girl. The Wasserlaufs—Howard and Doreen—they used to own this farm back then. My co-worker, Jack, may he rest in peace," Ruth began to give you a bit of backstory to help explain things a little better. Ever the religious woman, she made a swift quick sign of the cross in hope he might be at peace after suffering his time on earth. "He worked here as a farmhand. Howard was a nice man, but…” 

Ruth never liked to talk ill of the dead. You could tell from the hesitation in her voice and how she trailed off for a second before going back to the story. “Well, he’d get into that corn liquor. And one night he got it into this thick skull that Jack and his wife, Doreen, were rolling around in the hay. It wasn’t true—but Howard’s paranoia got the best of him. He tried to kill the both of them. Jack got away, but Doreen…” 

“He killed her?” You asked, taking a guess of how this story ended.   

“With a meat cleaver.” Ruth whispered, nodding her head. You psychically winced at the gruesome details of a life cut short. “Which for Howard ended a year ago. He always swore he’d get his revenge on poor, old Jack, and...it looks like he finally got it.” 

A year was plenty of time for a spirit to grow powerful enough to seek his revenge that he wasn't able to get while still alive. The pieces were starting to come together. You thought there was no one else to blame, there was no need to. Ruth had been nothing but helpful to you. Still, there was one more question you wanted to ask her. An odd one that made her look at you with a confused expression. "Is Howard buried in town?"

+ + +

You and the boys headed to the cemetery during the usual time when the sky was pitch black and everyone was asleep in this little town. Easy access with no chance of anyone disrupting you form the several laws you were about to break. While you stood over the grave with sore arms from doing your share of digging, the brothers continued with the rest of the work under the light from the small lamp you brought out here. Most of the digging had been in complete silence with the occasional sigh and grunt from shoveling down six feet beneath the earth. You found yourself leaning against your own shovel and drifting to your own thoughts.

Ever since you left Sonny's home, you kept wondering why Dean kept this place a secret for so many years. He wasn't much of a talkative person about his past unless it was for a funny story or if he was feeling particularly vulnerable, which happened rarely for you. Sam was finding himself caught up with his own personal questions. He had been lied to for years about a story that didn't seem like such a big deal just to tell the truth. He wanted to know why his brother kept up this lie for so long. You had a sneaking suspicion there was more to this story than Dean was admitting to, or wanted.

"So...Dad didn't want you to tell me." Sam decided to strike up a conversation when he threw another pile of dirt into the growing one just a few feet from where you stood. His growing curiosity was hard to ignore anymore. Sam decided it was the best time to strike now before all of you headed back home. He needed to know the truth. "How come? was this place really so bad?"

"I don't really remember." Dean said. At first it sounded like another little lie to get himself out from talking about this any further. He felt the need to give you and his brother a peace of mind to keep from dragging this out more than it needed to. "I mean, look, nobody bad touched me. Nobody burned me with their smokes, or beat me with a metal hanger. I call that a win." 

You furrowed your brows slightly from his examples. You peered down into the grave where Dean caught your concerned expression when the both of you made eye contact for a second when he threw another shovel of dirt into the pile. "I'm afraid to ask if anyone actually ever did that to you."

"No." Dean mumbled without much of a thought, hoping you'd drop it. Only the same expression remained on your face as you wondered if he was telling the truth. "No! No, Y/N. No one beat me. I was kidding. Besides, if anyone tried to lay a hand on me back in the day, it'd be the last thing they ever did." 

Sam chuckled when he caught your eye roll at his brother's attitude that hadn't changed much since his teenage years. Dean felt his shovel hit something hard from the thunking sound he heard when trying to dig up another pile of dirt. You leaned over the grave a little more to see the boys had finally found the coffin. Sam did the honors of lifting open the lid to reveal a corpse that was well past the decomposition stage. You grabbed the supplies you needed while the boys made their way out of the grave for you to complete the final step. 

Your favorite part of burning a body was pouring the lighter fluid and salt over the body, a strange cocktail mix you had grown accustomed to doing as your part of the hunt when spirits were involved. The easiest part of a salt and burn while the boys were stuck with the manual labor. You mumbled a thanks to Dean when he handed you a book of matches and his lighter, the last thing you needed to wrap up this hunt. 

"All right." Dean said. "Let's barbecue old McDonland here, get the hell out of Dodge."

You flicked the lighter and watched as a small flame ignited from doing such, allowing you to catch fire to the book of matches. You threw them into the grave when you saw the orange hues grow enough for you to be confident the body would catch fire as well. Like the dozens of times you had done this before, you watched from a safe distance as the corpse quickly burst into flames from the fluid. If you ignored the several laws you were breaking and the smell of human flesh, the fire during a cold night like this was refreshing. You placed your hands over the fire and rubbed your hands together, smiling in amusement when Dean rolled his eyes at your behavior.

+ + +

The next morning you hoped to be back on the road and halfway to the bunker already, instead Dean wanted to stick around for breakfast at some local diner. You were a little bit annoyed at the change of plans he made without telling you or Sam. His brother didn't oppose the idea of having a warm meal for a change. You were tired from being up all night burning the damn corpse, Dean seemed a bit too cheerful. It wasn’t like him. Normally the trick took a few cups of coffee and an hour of being up for him to stop using grunts as forms of words. 

You scanned the menu to see if there was anything decent here you might want. To you, it seemed like every family run diner you’ve been to, and you’ve been to a lot from the years you spent on the road. Dean had a deeper connection to this place, it was the spot where Sonny took him after a month of staying at the farm. A tradition for every boy. For some reason it felt more special to the older Winchester than he realized until coming back here. 

He remembered the conversation shared with the older man over the best pancakes he ever tasted. Both of them discussed things that felt like something Dean should've been able to do with his own father. The littlest of things that were normal for most people, but to Dean, the topic of conversations like how he was doing in school and how he was overall, were strange and new territory. They were the stupidest things that made Dean feel like a teenager for the first time in his life—and not some kid who was forced to watch his brother for weeks at a time. Who spent days worrying if his parental figure was going to make it back alive. Sonny even opened up a bit about himself and the life he had back in the day. 

"Dean, you know I'm fine just grabbing a burger to go somewhere, right?" You turned the menu around to see if there was anything that you wanted, but for some reason you just weren't in the mood for anything offered. "Besides, I wanted to get home sooner than later. I'm tired. I miss my own bed.” 

"What, and miss out on the best banana pancakes you ever had? Come on, sweetheart. Live a little." Dean's infectious behavior didn't seem to rub off on you like he'd hoped. You glanced up from the menu to see his eyes weren't focused on you like you thought, instead they were wandering over to the busy counter. A frown stretched across your lips when you saw him eyeing one of the waitresses. "You can take a nap in the car." 

"Mmhm. I'm sure that's the reason." You muttered to yourself. 

The waitress seemed to be more than just a pretty face that caught Dean’s eye, on the rare occasion that it happened. She appeared to be about your age and overly friendly among her customers, as if she’d been doing this her whole life. After passing by a few tables and checking up on things to make sure everything was all right, she headed her way over to your direction, greeting the three of you with a welcoming smile, pen and pad ready to take your breakfast order. It took you a second to realize Dean must’ve known her from back in the day before he could say something. 

"Hi. Welcome to Cus's.” She greeted all of you. “What can I get you three?"

"Bet you've never thought you'd see me here, huh?" Dean offered the woman a little too friendly of a smile he’d flashed her plenty of times during their teenage years. You remained quiet as you watched the interaction unfold, curious as to how this was going to play out. 

Robin, from what gold name tag pinned to her shirt read, didn't return the overly friendly smile. She merely stared at him, wondering if she was supposed to remember him. "Uh, look, I'm a little bit slammed right now." She said. "Do you guys want to hear the specials?"

"Robin...Dean Winchester." He introduced himself to the woman, hoping it might spark a memory in her. You and Sam looked over at one another for a brief moment from the awkward interaction before focusing your attention back to the unraveling conversation that wasn’t heading in the direction Dean hoped for. "I used to live up at Sonny's farm." 

"Oh, oh. Uh, look, sorry. There's just so many boys that pass through there, it's hard to remember every name and face." Robin apologized for failing to remember someone from well over a decade ago. You bit the inside of your cheek from the way Dean's face immediately dropped in embarrassment from the way he was acting.

"Yeah. Uh, no. Sorry, I just—I remember you coming up there with your mom. She'd give us guitar lessons. It's uh," Dean shifted around in his seat as he told of a memory that you'd never heard of before. You perked up at hearing how Dean learned guitar. He never told you that. You were suddenly intrigued to hear more, curious even more now of how Robin played into all of this. And how well he knew her from the way he was suddenly acting. "It was a long time ago." 

"Yeah. Mom—she loved helping out the boys." Robin said, a small smile crossing her lips at the mention of the woman. You offered one yourself when she looked around at the table, retelling of a fond memory at least shared between the both of them. "I guess that's why I kept giving lessons after she passed." 

The conversation slowly veered into another pause of awkward silence as Robin and Dean's eyes darted back and forth between one another, not sure if full eye contact was appropriate. You bit the inside of your cheek from how the atmosphere was changing. Dean felt as if he'd made a fool of himself, Robin was embarrassed at the fact she didn't remember him. Luckily before things could get worse, Robin heard her name being called by another person on staff, needing help somewhere else. The woman excused herself with a polite smile before dashing off elsewhere. 

“Dude…” 

“Let’s go.” 

Dean didn’t want to waste another second here after a simple conversation nosedived into something mortifying. He didn’t know why he felt like such an idiot. You and Sam followed after the man when he snatched his jacket from the back of his chair and beelined for the door without saying anything else. So much for having those pancakes. 

You slipped on your jacket as you picked up the pace to try and catch up with Dean, wanting to know why he was suddenly acting so upset. You could put the pieces together on your own, but you wanted to be sure what you were about to say was the right thing. And you always liked to dig a little deeper into things that never quite concerned you. It was in your nature. 

"What was that all about?" You asked. Dean rolled his eyes from your pestering, shooting it down with a one worded answer that he hoped would make you drop the conversation once and for all. Of course it didn’t, for it only fueled your curiosity even more. “And don’t tell me it's ‘nothing.’ Because it was obviously something.” 

“Who was that waitress?” Sam questioned his brother, deciding to join in for himself. 

“Is she an ex-girlfriend of yours or something?” You pressed for more when a teasing smile crept on the ends lips at the way Dean stiffened at the mention. “Come on. I’m not jealous.”

"I said it was nothing, Y/N, all right? Drop it."You could tell by the tone of Dean's voice he wasn't in the mood to play this childish game anymore with you. It was your turn to roll your eyes from the way he was acting. You reached out to open up the backseat door as Dean's phone continued ringing. Finally answering it, you heard the familiar name of Sonny come out of the older Winchester's mouth, followed by a reaction from a call that wasn’t to congratulate you on a job well done. "What?!"

+ + +

You and the boys headed back to the farm after hearing the disheartening news of Ruth's strange passing. You thought the case was wrapped up for good, but it seemed the person whom you thought was to blame for all of this was the wrong target. Someone else was to blame. You watched as the coroner's van pulled away with Ruth's body after they took a look around the scene for themselves to figure out what happened. You overheard the hushed conversation among the officers who suspected it was most likely an accidental drowning. She probably fell asleep in the bathtub. While the cause of death might have been correct, their hypothesis of how it happened was wrong. There was nothing accidental about this. 

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest in frustration. Whenever someone else fell victim to the creature you were trying to hunt, it was the worst feeling of all. You let another innocent person die. You had been so sure. Ruth told you herself. She was set on the fact that Howard would get his revenge. And if he was to blame for this, it didn’t make sense of how she died this morning when you burned the man’s bones last night. Someone else was to blame for this. And you needed to find out quickly before another person suffered a terrible fate. 

“I tried to get in to save her, but the damn door wouldn’t open.” Sonny told you the story himself about what happened this morning, finding it all a bit strange from an invisible force that wouldn’t let him in. Sam wondered if it was because the door happened to be locked. A woman must’ve wanted privacy while she took a bath, but locks weren't a privacy the boys on his farm were allowed to have. Which made things even stranger. “There’s no locks on the farm.” 

Dean let out a sigh from the situation that was only growing crappier. “That means our little field trip to the cemetery was a bust.” He muttered. Sonny gave a slightly confused look as to what the hell you were doing there in the first place. He decided it was best not to ask. “Sonny, is there anything else weird you can remember?” 

“What, ‘cause we’re not already chest-deep in weird already, kids?” Sonny asked. 

“I know, I know.” Dean said. “I mean anything—really.” 

“There was one thing.” Sonny suddenly remembered now, feeling it might be important for you to know, and hoping it might help. “Ruth always had her rosary beads with her, but now I can’t find them anywhere.” 

"All right. Let's start with the vics, okay? I mean, both lived in the house. They both worked closely with the boys." Sam listed off a few similarities between Ruth and Jack that might tie in the reason why they were targeted in the first place. It wasn’t much of a solid thread, but you had to admit a small lead was better than nothing. 

“Why don’t Y/N and I go have a chat with the rugrats, see what’s up?” Dean suggested. You nodded your head in agreement. “Play bad cop, worse cop.” 

The both of you headed off to go search around the grounds to see if you might be able to find any of the boys to ask them a few questions. You figured most of them weren't doing their daily responsibilities Sonny gave them from all the commotion that went down earlier. It wasn't hard to find a few boys when you heard a set of voices echoing not too far from where you and Dean were standing, and from how the conversation was unfolding, it was anything but playful banter between friends. 

“Come on, whatcha gonna do about it? You gonna cry?”

“Timmy, you’re such a little weirdo.” 

Dean picked up the pace when he heard a familiar name dropped, making him realize who the two older kids were tormenting. You followed right behind to see the older man come to the rescue of a young boy who was cornered by two older and larger ones, making for an unfair fight to protect himself. Dean shoved the two boys away from who you guessed was Timmy before they could try and inflict anymore harm. 

“Timmy, what’s going on?” Dean asked the young boy, hoping for some kind of answer. The kid remained where he stood, cowering in his spot against the house, as if he was too afraid to speak in front of the bullies. The older man decided he’d get back to the kid in a minute, for now he focused his attention on the others. “All right, you two. Where were you this morning when Ruth had her accident?”

“Unless you’re a cop, we don’t need to tell you anything.” The taller one of the two bullies thought he was funny when he replied with a sarcastic comeback. You chuckled in amusement from how tough the kid thought he was. He was about to be in for a rude awakening. 

“Rude and smart. Well, guess what.” You took it upon yourself to pull out your fake badge from your pocket and flashed it to them, Dean doing the same in a more aggressive fashion when he got dangerously close. As if he was proving a point that he wasn’t fooling around. He was the worst cop in this situation. “Now, since you two obviously love running your mouths, why don't you answer our questions?"

“We weren’t even here this morning. Sonny sent us into town to get some chicken feed—we swear.” The kid said, making sure to add the last part when you gave them both a glaring expression their parents lacked to give from their foul behavior. 

“What about Ruth?” You asked them. “What can you tell us about her?”

“We used to call her the warden.” The shorter, skinner bully answered. “She was a real bible thumping hard-ass.”

“Obviously. What else?” Dean pressed for more information that might be useful. “Anything different or weird you can think of?”

“You mean besides Timmy?” You rolled your eyes when one of the bullies thought it was funny to try and go for a jab when you and Dean were standing right here, you had enough of their juvenile behavior. So did Dean from the reaction they were able to get out of him. 

“Hey. Either one of you touch him again, I’m gonna go all Guantanamo on you. Understand me? Now get the hell out of here.” Dean’s threat made the smile on the bullie’s face quickly drop from how serious he sounded. “Go on! Get!” It didn't take much else for the two boys to go running off somewhere else where they'd be useful. You let out a sigh before turning your attention over to Timmy. The poor kid was able to finally step out from the corner he was backed into and pick up his action figure. Dean made his way over to the kid, wanting to make sure he was all right. "Hey. You and Bruce okay?"

 “Yeah.” Timmy was soft spoken, obviously still shaken up about what just unfolded. 

"I want you and Bruce to meet someone." Dean said. You realized this Burce was the action figure Timmy was holding. You felt a smile grow on your lips at how natural Dean was around Timmy, they must've shared a moment together when you were here last. "This is Y/N. She's helping me find out what's going on around here."

“Very nice to meet you both.” You greeted the kid with a warm smile. You stretched out your hand for Timmy to take it, not expecting much. Most his age either would ignore you or give a limp shake. But the kid did it properly, even better than most. Firm and exactly like how Dean taught him. The older man smiled to himself at how the lesson paid off. 

“Listen to me. I wanna tell you something important.” Dean crouched down so he was at eye level with the kid, wanting to make sure he felt like he was being treated like an equal. Not looked down upon. “Guys like that—they’re cowards, okay? All you got to do is stand up to them one time and they’ll stop, I promise.” 

"You can trust this guy." You reassured Timmy, softly nudging Dean to help further prove his point. "You don't have to be big and strong to defend yourself, kid. All it takes is guts. And I bet you have lots of them." 

Timmy seemed to have started feeling better from the smallest of smiles that crept across his lips at your kind words. You were happy to see the kid was able to brush off the situation and go back to his daily chores. While Dean went to find the rest of the kids, what few of them were left, you decided to head back to the house to help Sam with the files to cut down on time. You needed to find out who was behind this before someone else got hurt. 

As you made your way back to the house, the layout of the farm started to grow a little bit familiar to you, you looked around to see the chaos of this morning was starting to slowly drift away. The boys were getting back to their chores and life picked back up again. You found yourself slowing down to take in more of the sights around this place, how many things that needed to be done in order to keep this place properly running. Not to mention little things around the house that made it personal. For some reason you must've overlooked the wall of awards and trophies hanging by the stairs. 

“Looks like you found our hall of fame.” You turned your head away from examining all the different sorts of awards that ranged from academic achievements to sports trophies from countless boys over the years to see Sonny had spotted you. He came up and stood next to you, looking over the achievements the kids he looked after got. “We had some pretty great athletes come through here, including Dean.” 

“Wait, really?” You followed the direction Sonny’s finger was pointing to find out what Dean had won an award for. You broke out into a smile at learning something else about the man you never would’ve guessed might have been an interest of his. 

“He was Sullivan County hundred and thirty-five pound wresting champion.” Sonny said. 

Hearing the accomplishment Dean was able to make on his own during his stay here made you happy, but at the same time, overwhelmed with sadness. Sonny sounded so proud of the kid for what he was able to do. But all you could think about was how John handled the news. Did Dean ever tell all of his adventures to his father, only to be brushed off as things that were nice—but not logical. It didn't fit the narrative of what John wanted for his boys. The reality of how he thought things needed to be. You were starting to slowly understand why Dean wanted to keep this place a secret, and not his father.

[Next Part]

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[thatesqcrush]

Drinks & Theories

Rafael Barba x Olivia Benson. This was for the Barson Valentine’s Exchange on Twitter and I made it work for my VDay bingo. Using “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star.

CW: some kissing, mostly fluff

WC: 2.8k

Much to her surprise, his kisses tasted sweet and not at all like what she expected. Sweet and slightly minty. In all honesty however, the night in its entirety wasn't what Olivia Benson had expected.

All she knew at that very moment was that she enjoyed the way Rafael Barba kissed. Olivia also enjoyed the feel of his hands on her, especially the way they cupped her ass, pulling her flush against his chest. The heat that radiated off him sent chills down her spine.

Olivia also quickly realized that she didn't mind the feel of his stubble against her cheek as he continued to assault her lips with his own. She moaned quietly and felt him pepper her neck with kisses. Rafael sucked a mark into her neck, eliciting another moan. His tongue was warm and wet, and he soothed the bruise that formed. draw her even closer. Olivia attacked his kisses with her own, feverishly pressing kisses down his jaw line before kissing him fully on the lips once more.

"Liv…" Rafael quietly rumbled against her ear.

Liv nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. Letting out a small giggle, she finished his thoughts for him. "Perhaps we better take this elsewhere then?"

Rafael pulled away and gazed at the brunette woman in his arms with heated eyes. "I like the way you think."

Liv couldn't help but smirk in response and she leaned into his ear. "By the end of the night, that won't be the only thing you'll like."

Rafael cocked an eyebrow, his own green eyes sparkling with desire. "Let's test that theory then."

**

Hours earlier…

The day had started innocently enough. Or so it seemed at the time. Rafael had joined Olivia on a routine trip to GreenHaven to press Yates on more information about the washed up bodies. The meeting with Yates went as well as it could have - meaning, leading nowhere. Olivia did not want to have to come back up with Amanda, but it seemed that the Georgian was the only one who could get into Yates head.

The ride back to Manhattan was going well. The trip was ninety minutes if they didn’t stop and traffic was on their side. Rafael had plans for a Harvard Alumni speaking engagement later that night and Olivia was hoping to relieve Lucy and get some quality time with Noah.

Rafael was bored in the car - he was never a good road trip companion. He was fiddling with the radio, and playing drums with hands on the dashboard, or chewing Liv’s ears off with random trivia. Olivia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she pulled up to the light. 

“Are you alright?” Rafael asked, looking at Olivia. She appeared tired and stressed. Rafael wanted to do nothing but reach over and squeeze her thigh reassuringly, but he wouldn’t dare. He had been secretly harboring feelings for Olivia for quite some time. He had been hurt years prior and he didn’t want to risk his friendship with Olivia by telling her the truth. He’d rather be her friend than be alone.

“Tired.” Olivia confessed as the light turned green. “I just need some coffee.”

Rafael looked out the side of his window. “We just passed a sign for a rest stop two miles up. Want to check it out?”

Olivia looked at Rafael and smiled. “That’s a great plan and I could use a break to stretch my legs.”

Rafael gave her a small nod and looked at the window. Olivia glanced towards him and let out a small sigh. She wasn’t sure when she fell for Rafael, but she had. And to anyone else, his behavior in the car would have been downright annoying, she found it endearing. Time always seemed to be against them - prior relationships got in the way or if she became suddenly available, Rafael was not. 

Olivia pulled into the rest stop which had a small diner and a gas station. “I’ll get us two coffees.” Rafael shook his head. “No thanks.”

Olivia laughed. “You are such a coffee snob.” She got out of the car and walked away and Rafael felt his cock twitch at the sight of her hips swaying and most perfect ass.

He played back what Olivia said - coffee snob - and decided in that moment to get a cup of coffee after all. He didn’t notice the car keys on Olivia’s seat and just shut the door behind him, but not before hitting the side lock.

Rafael found Olivia pouring an obscene amount of creamer in her coffee. “I got you one anyway - black - just the way you like it.” She smiled, handing him the coffee. 

“Thanks.” Rafael replied sheepishly. “At least let me pay for the coffee.”

“Sure thing counselor.” Olivia winked as she led the way back to the coffee counter. Rafael felt his cheeks burn and he was glad she couldn’t see his reaction.

Rafael paid for the coffee and they walked out back to the car. Olivia pulled on the car handle but the door didn’t budge. 

“Can you open the car?” 

“Why would I open the car? You have the keys. Don’t you?” Rafael replied slowly as realization washed over him.

“You didn’t bring the keys in with you? Oh fuck!” Olivia swore. She put the coffee on the roof of the car and peered inside, seeing the keys on her seat. “Way to go Barba.”

“Who doesn’t take the keys with them when they go inside a store?” Rafael protested.

“You were in the car genius! I didn’t think I needed to.” Olivia snapped, running her hand through her mane. The sky above them rumbled and Olivia looked up as a large raindrop splashed onto her face. “Ah, shit.” 

The sky darkened and thunder began to rumble. There was a small crack of lightning and the wind began to pick up, swirling and pushing loitered trash.

Rafael and Olivia huddled under the awning of the store just as the sky opened up and rain began to pour down. 

“I can’t believe you locked us out. We’re in the middle of nowhere, how the hell are we going to get someone to come up here?”

“You’re a cop; can’t you just break in?” Rafael asked.  

Olivia turned and glared at him.“No - not if I want to ruin my own car.”

“Then do you have another plan?”

“Excuse me - do you need help?” A voice interrupted Rafael and Liv’s quarrel. It was an elderly woman and her husband. 

Liv gave the woman a sympathetic smile. “We’re locked out of my car.”

“Well,” the elderly man began to speak. “There is a motel one mile down. We can give you a ride there that way you don’t have to stay in the rain.”

Rafael began to protest but the woman interrupted him. “Now, now, that is not the gentlemanly thing to do. You and your wife are going to catch pneumonia.”

Liv nodded, not bothering to correct her. “That is so kind of you; thank you.” She and Rafael followed the couple to their car, getting soaking wet in the process and off they went.

**

“Well, we can’t get someone up here to unlock the car tonight.” Liv replied as she hung up the phone in the motel lobby. “We’ll have to stay overnight.”

Rafael groaned. “Okay, so we should get a room then.”

The woman at the front desk was busy gossiping on the phone, filing her nails. Rafael drummed his fingers on the counter and cleared his throat which caught her attention.

“I have to go - I have a customer. Later, baby.”

Both Rafael and Liv tried their hardest to not roll their eyes. After getting some basic information, Rafael and Liv were informed that there was only one room left - and that room only had one bed.

“We’ll take it.” Rafael replied, sliding his credit card over. The woman smiled and finished the transaction before giving him his card back along with a key that had a rabbit’s foot attached.

Rafael muttered something in Spanish and Liv tried her best to keep a straight face.

**

They settled into the room - which fortunately wasn’t as drabby as they thought would be. It had a retro feel to it with matching carpet and drapes, but it was clean. And for the night, it would do.

“There is a bar on the other side.” Olivia announced as she used a towel to wring out her hair. “Want to join me?”

“In a bit. I have to send a few emails and the wifi here is a crapshoot.” Rafael replied as he tried angling his phone by the window.

“See ya in a bit then.” Olivia replied. “Make sure you take the key this time.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Rafael called out as Liv left the room.

**

As she nursed her whiskey sour, she found herself lost in thought, drowning out the noises of the crowded bar. Olivia had become so wrapped in her thoughts that she didn't notice that Rafael had arrived at the bar and had taken a seat beside her.

"Liv?" Rafael snapped his fingers multiple times in front of her. "Earth to Benson."

Olivia looked up startled and her cheeks turned pink as she realized that she had been caught. "Oh! Rafael! Sorry…I didn't see you. It's been one of those weeks and today was just the cherry on top of a crappy sundae."

The dark haired man grunted in response. 

"Yeah, same here," Rafael replied with a sigh. He motioned to the drink in her hand. "What's your poison of choice?"

"Whiskey sour, my mother’s favorite drink for times like these," Olivia replied, grimacing. 

Rafael ordered a scotch and once in hand, he raised it to her. "Cheers."

Olivia raised her glass as well and they toasted to each other. They quickly fell into polite conversation, mostly about the latest happenings. However, as more and more drinks came their way, however, their conversation began to take a turn. Innocent conversation became heated and Olivia found herself flirting with great fervor. Rafael obviously didn't mind as he placed his hand on her thigh. Leaning closer to Rafael, she felt his thumb begin to rub in circles.

Shivering, Olivia licked her lips. "What exactly are you playing at Rafael Barba?"

"You’ll see.” He winked. “Let's dance.” 

Olivia sat up sharply, causing her to wince. "But there's no music," she protested.

As if on cue, a cheesy love song began to play and a small smile began to tug on the corners of Rafael's lips. He outstretched his hand to hers and Olivia took it, allowing him to take the lead.

Strong arms wrapped around Olivia protectively as they began to dance. Rafael's hand traveled south to her lower back and Olivia nestled against his chest. The sexual tension between the two of them was about to crack, thanks to the alcohol that was currently pushing them in the right direction.

Rafael looked deep into Olivia's eyes, and he brought one hand to caress her cheek before tracing the outline of her lips with the pad of his thumb. And without any other word passing between them, Rafael dipped his mouth to hers.

Olivia's heart did a flip flop at the feel of Rafael's lips on hers. "Rafael…" she breathed in between kisses. Rafael began to nip on her lower lip and Olivia let out a soft moan. "Jesus."

That earned a chuckle from Rafael. "Thanks for the compliment."

Olivia swatted him playfully before kissing him back. Rafael pulled her closer again with one hand resting on her back while the other cupped the back of her head gently. Olivia's tongue playfully probed Rafael's mouth and by the deep rumble in his chest, she knew Rafael enjoyed it immensely.

“I think it's strange you never knew how I felt about you.” Rafael murmured against Olivia’s cheek.

Olivia moved her face to look into Rafael’s eyes, sparkling with desire. “I look to you to see the truth.”

Only one thing mattered at that moment and Olivia quickly answered when Rafael questioned her. "You have the key right?”

**

The next morning Olivia woke up in a tangle of sheets. Memories of the night before flooding her thoughts and she felt her cheeks turn pink before smiling to herself. Looking over to the spot next to her, she watched Rafael sleep. She chewed on her bottom lip as she eyed the bite mark under his nipple that she had left during their interlude.

The clock read 6:15 A.M. Olivia decided that it was way too early for her to get up. Olivia lay back down in bed and snuggled next to Rafael who instinctively wrapped his arm around her.

She was about to close her eyes when she heard Rafael speak. "Morning,"

"Good morning," Olivia replied. "How'd you sleep?"

"For the first time in my life, better than ever. I'd like to think that was because of you though," Rafael replied honestly.

Olivia smiled and pressed a small kiss on his lips. "No regrets then?"

"None at all," was his reply. Olivia snuggled once more against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat wash over her.

"I do have one question though," Olivia announced after a few minutes had passed by.

Rafael moved to prop himself on his side. "Oh?" he questioned as he stroked her arm with the tip of his index finger.

"Wanna test that theory again?" Olivia searched his eyes and she mentally did a victorious dance as she watched his eyes light up.

"Hermosa, I thought you'd never ask."

FIN. 

****

Tags: @mgarner1227​   @madpanda75​  @tropes-and-tales​ @dreamlover31​ @beardedmccoy​ @youreverycolor​ @neely1177​ @witches-unruly-heart​ @mrsrafaelbarba​ @skittle479​ @ottosuricato​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @mommakat32​ @dreila03​  @beccabarba​ @garturbo​ @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo​ @imjustreallynosy​ @sweetsummertime99​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ @redlipstickandblacktea​ @zoeykaytesmom​ @differentshadesofgray​ @misssirenlove​ @esparza-army​ @bananas-pajamas​ @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie​ @theenchantedgalleryofstories​ @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty​ @ktiz90​ @evee87​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @detective-giggles​ @rampantmuses​ @jazzyjoi​ @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes​ @rachelxwayne​ @prurientpuddlejumper​ @lv7867​ @permanentlydizzy​ @bisexual-dreamer02​ @madamsnape921​ @averyhotchner​ @teamsladsandgents​ @qvid-pro-qvo​ @alwaysachorusgirl​ @amelia-song-pond​ @wanniiieeee​​  @tintinxtintin

[artificialqueens]

On The Ground (Rosénali) - Moonshot

A/N: So… Guess who is back after a year of not writing fics? Yours truly! What can I say? Rosénali is that powerful of a ship. As always, I hope eveyone enjoys this fic. Feel free to let me know what you think… Who knows, there might be a follow up to this little fluff in the future! Little side note: this is a lesbian au where most of the s13/s12 girls appearing are cis-female, however Mik is still a trans man in the fic.

Summary: The diner girl!Denali x street singer!Rosé AU based on Blackpink’s Rosé’s solo music that nobody asked for!

ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/30267687

Denali stared at the round clock above the entrance of the diner.

4:57 PM. 

Three more minutes until her shift was over.

Three more minutes until the girl who had been a fixed character in her dreams would come from around the corner, set up her guitar, greet the passersby before starting her set for the evening like she did every Wednesday.

“So, gorge, are you going to ask the champagne girl out today, or are you just going to keep on creepily staring at her from afar?”, her coworker, Kade - or as everyone called him, Mik - appeared next to her with an empty tray.

“Her name is Rosé, not champagne girl!”, Denali rebutted, “and also, for the record, I don’t just… stare. I just happen to like appreciating her set without bothering her! It’s not like she was flirting with me that one time”.

“Did I just hear our Nali denying her crush on that pink-haired singer, again?”, Olivia, who was busy running the cash register, chimed in.

“Girl, I think we should start betting against her and maybe we’ll make more money than what they can pay us here!”, Mik joked as he washed some of the dishes in the sink.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes, ignoring her two best friends and focusing on the performer’s much-anticipated arrival.

Denali didn’t believe in love at first sight but after the first time Rosé and her guitar had shown up on the other side of the road from Tamisha’s Diner, she couldn’t think about anything else. 

There was just something about the other girl that had the Alaskan girl enamored.

The first - and so far only - time she had talked to Rosé was out of necessity as the other girl and who she assumed were her two best friends - the diner girls had dubbed them ‘Pastel Powerpuff girls’ - had decided to dine in just as Denali’s shift at the register had started.

“Hi! Did you enjoy our diner?”, the skater had put on her best smile, not quite able to meet the gaze of the taller girl as she typed out the receipt.

“Oh, sure, the skating gig is cute, the food’s great, and the service… isn’t too bad either,” Denali could see from the corner of her eye the smirk on the pink-haired girl.

“Rosie! Quit flirting with every cute girl that breathes and hurry up or Jan and I are leaving you here, the Uber is going to be here in 2 minutes!”, the blue-haired girl went on with the other girl in the friend group while ‘Rosie’ rolled her eyes at them.

“Sorry about Lagoona, she has the tact of an elephant on rollerskates,” the taller girl joked.

“O-Oh, no problem. So, your total is 20,04$, will you be paying in cash or card? Also, are you splitting the bill?”

“Since dumb and dumber over there already left, I’ll just pay everything with my card,” she replied taking out her purse and taking out her credit card, “here you go, angel”.

Denali tried her best not to blush at the sudden pet name, maintaining her on-the-clock persona as she brought out the card reader. She quickly finished up the operation and handed the pink-haired girl her card back with the receipt, “I just need a quick signature here and you’re free to go to your friends”.

‘Rosie’ scribbled down her signature - she learned her actual name was Rosé, classy yet slightly worrying - and left a tip for her. 

A 10$ tip for her.

“Gorge, she left you a 10$ tip, she was basically asking for your hand in marriage”, Mik reminded her, his eyes darting around the half-empty diner. 

He nodded his head to his left where Denali saw another one of her co-workers sharing a milkshake with her girlfriend, giggling like teenagers, “I’m just saying. If Utica managed to end up dating that self-proclaimed ebony enchantress over there, you got a chance with wine girl”, he ended with his trademark L.A vocal fry.

Denali knew Mik had a point, but as she was about to reply, she heard the familiar sound of a guitar starting a new song. Her eyes glanced back at the clock.

5:14 PM

Damn, she had missed the beginning of the set.

The Alaskan girl didn’t lose any more time as she clocked out, skates still on her feet as she zoomed out of the diner.

“Aaaaand she’s gone!”, Olivia commented, turning her head to Mik, “Do you think this time is the good one?”

“Well, if she doesn’t finally go after her, I might as well go after her myself!”

Denali reached the usual crowd that had already formed around Rosé, trying her best to blend in and not be seen by the singer while still getting a good view of the set.

“Well, aren’t you guys a lovely crowd!”, the pink-haired singer smiled as she got ready for the next song, “I’ve got one last song for today and this is going to be the first time I’ll be performing it, so, don’t hate it too much!”, she chuckled as she checked her guitar before turning her head back to the mic stand, “This is On The Ground, I’m Rosé and I hope you’ve enjoyed the set! Feel free to drop your tips in the guitar case!”

Denali couldn’t take her eyes off Rosé when she heard the guitar’s first chord paired with the honey-like vocals.

My life’s been magic seems fantastic

I used to have a hole

in the wall with a mattress

It’s funny when you want it

Suddenly you have it

You find out that your gold’s just plastic

The black-haired girl quickly pulled out her phone, opened her voice memo app, and hit record. She wanted to treasure the magic Rosé’s voice brought. 

What she failed to notice while she was so into the song was a pair of hazel eyes settling on her as the song reached its climax.

A couple of days later, Denali had just finished with her teaching job at the local ice rink when she spotted Olivia on the railings. 

“The suspicious lack of a certain pink-haired girl makes me think that you still haven’t asked her out” she heard the younger girl say as she skated her way to her.

“You’ll never let it go, won’t you, Liv?”

“Not when I see that you like her and, from what I’ve seen, she is at least interested in you. Mik tried to ask her out yesterday after your shift was over,” the other girl replied.

Denali furrowed her brows, “Wait, he was serious about asking her out? I thought he was just joking!”

“If you don’t act on your cute pink crush, you can’t expect everyone else to stop for you,” Olivia reasoned, “if it’s of any help, Mik did say that, and I quote ‘she didn’t want a piece of this fine ass’”, she finished, air quoting their co-worker.

“To be honest, the dude’s barely got an ass compared to me,” Denali muttered, but her best friend managed to catch it.

“Well, as Symone said, you do have a fat ass,” Olivia commented, causing both of them to laugh out loud.

She continued, “Point still stands though, you gotta do something or you might just end up regretting not doing anything about it”.

The dark-haired girl sighed, “I know, I’m just… scared to get hurt because she seems so cool and unreachable, and I’m just so… me?”, she confessed, resting her arms on the rails.

“Give it a chance, Nali,” Olivia replied, laying her hand on the skater’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, “And just in case, if she fucks you over, we’ll just unleash Kandy on her!”, she added, making Denali chuckle.

“Girl, if she knew you said that…”

“She would do absolutely nothing because she’s too busy chasing after that Joey guy”, she didn’t miss a beat with her reply, giving her a knowing look, “Almost forgot to ask, are you coming later to the club with the others?”

Denali shook her head, “No, sorry. I don’t feel like clubbing today, I’ll just skate a bit more and then go home to watch some Netflix”.

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, “You do you, girl. But think about what I said, okay?”

She gave her best friend a small smile, “Thanks, Liv. See you at work?”

The younger girl nodded and left Denali to her thought as she exited the room. The black-haired skater turned her head back to the rink, noticing that only a few people were left on the ice. 

She took a deep breath, putting her earbuds back in and looking through her phone to decide on what song to use for her last routine of the day. Her eyes fell on the voice memo app, immediately reminding herself of the recording she had taken just a few days prior. She hadn’t even listened to it since she had recorded it.

It wasn’t a clean recording, she could hear the sounds of the city and the people around her, but she closed her eyes and focused on Rosé’s voice, letting it guide her. 

The music fully took her over as she performed her usual stunts.

I’m way up in the clouds

And they say I’ve made it now

But I figured it out

Everything I need is on the ground

She found herself in the center of the rink, the bridge of the song was blasting in her ears. She smiled to herself as she started to spin, gradually picking up speed while Rosé’s high notes were all she could focus on.

Just drove by your house

So far from you now

But I figured it out

Everything I need is on the

Everything I need is on the ground

The recording stopped abruptly, she remembered how she had to bolt away, almost missing her bus home. 

Denali could hear her heavy breathing, suddenly aware again that she wasn’t alone. But she had made up her mind.

She was going to talk to Rosé the following Wednesday. 

That Wednesday the diner was busier than usual, giving Denali barely a moment to think, let alone realize she was missing Rosé’s set outside.

She glanced at the clock.

5:26 PM

Shit.

She turned her head and looked outside the diner’s big windows and saw that the pink-haired girl was starting to gather her things.

“Miss Iman just left, go to her! We’ll cover for you and we are not letting you get back in unless you got a date!”, Olivia said quietly enough for just her to hear.

Denali couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. She grabbed some of the tips that she had made before she bolted outside, faintly hearing the cheering of her friends.

As she reached Rosé on the other side of the road, the singer’s back was facing her, she didn’t seem to have noticed Denali yet.

The black-haired girl took a deep breath, just like she had done on the ice rink, and let the tips fall into the still open guitar case.

The noise of falling change was what made Rosé turn around, a surprised look on her face as she registered Denali’s face.

“Denali?”

Gosh, she could hear the other girl say her name all day.

Wait.

“How do you know my name?”, Denali asked slightly confused.

Rosé didn’t reply but simply pointed at the waitress’s chest.

Oh, right. The nameplate on her uniform.

“That and also I tend to remember a pretty face when I see one,” she added, now her attention fully on the shorter girl.

“Oh, yeah, right”, she fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing where to look, “Uhm, I just wanted to say that you have a really beautiful voice. You can consider me your first fan when you make it big”.

Rosé smiled at her and Denali couldn’t help but notice how beautiful of a smile she had. 

The singer turned back to her stuff, shuffling things around and leaving the brunette to her thoughts. She wanted to ask the taller girl out but felt all her courage leave her body.

Way to go, Nali.

“Well, Uhm, I think I should-”, she started but she was stopped by the pink-haired girl, who had finished packing everything up.

“Here, this is for you”.

It was a jewel case cd, a picture of Rosé in a very 80s inspired attire on the cover with pink marker writing across the front.

‘To Denali

My first (and hopefully not last) fan

     Rosé xo’    

  It was signed with a small rose doodle next to Rosé’s name and, much to Denali’s surprise, a phone number along with the phrase ‘put it to good use’.

She looked up to find the other girl staring at her, her guitar case strapped on her back. She gave her a wink and started walking towards the subway.

Denali stood there for what felt like forever as she watched Rosé disappear in between the crowd of people roaming the streets. 

She looked back down at the cd, committing the number to memory. She turned around to look at the back, her eyes were drawn to the tracklist. 

She smiled when she saw On The Ground. 

Finally, she didn’t have to listen to a shitty phone recording to enjoy it. 

“Wait, what? You had recorded it all secretly and shady, mama?”

Rosé’s laugh filled the room as Denali tried to hide her face on the other girl’s bare chest.

“You’re an ass! I just wanted to use it for one of my skating routines”, she muttered, causing her girlfriend to laugh even harder.

“I find it cute that I’m not even famous and my music has already been pirated!” she commented, “I’m already halfway there to stardom, baby girl,” she added, kissing the top of Denali’s head.

The shorter girl groaned as she hid the increasing blush on her cheeks, rolling her body so that she was on top of the pink-haired girl.

“Well, miss Rosé, is it pirating if it was for personal pleasure only?”, Denali teased, running her hands upwards on the naked skin, slowly lowering herself until her face was inches away from her girlfriend’s.

She felt Rosé’s hands take a firm hold of her behind, “Oh angel, I’ll show you personal pleasure,” the singer replied, eliminating the little space left between their lips as Denali brought her hands to cup the older girl’s face.

Rethinking about those lyrics Rosé had written months prior, Denali knew she was right, she did have everything she needed on the ground.

It was to be right there with Rosé.

[loversamongus]

Coffee, Chills, and Closeness | modern!Zuko x reader

a/n: I was really happy with the way Friends, Fevers, and Family Movies came out so I decided to write a sequel to it in which you now have to take care of a sick, grumpy, little Zuko. I just really love good ol’ fluff.

warnings: characters sick with the flu; some language

words: 2.2k

After a few more days of bed rest and bowls of Katara’s special flu season homemade soup, you were starting to feel much better. The color reappeared in your face, the bounce returned to your step, and clarity chased out the dizziness in your head. Your best friends noticed your change in health and mood almost immediately.

“Must be my soup,” Katara said as you bounced past her in the kitchen to reach your cereal. You couldn’t help but question a knowing look in her eye. You raised an eyebrow in response.

“Or maybe just some good nights of sleep,” she continued. “You’ve had a smile plastered on your sleepy face for a couple nights now.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you’ve been watching me sleep and eat my breakfast now, if you don’t mind.”

But what Katara said couldn’t be completely ignored, no. You don’t often remember your dreams, but recently you’ve been able to remember one recurring image that has appeared in your subconscious for the last few nights in a row. A certain shaggy haired, golden eyed someone kissing your forehead, just the remembrance of the sensation is enough to give you the chills again. Of course, there were cowboy dolls and astronaut action figures dancing in the background so the mushiness of the dream didn’t last too long.

It’s funny how the nostalgia of your childhood could wiggle its way into any dream, conversation, or movie night decision. You didn’t have a particularly cushy childhood but it was stable enough compared to your friends. While little you sat on the floor of your living room rewatching The Lion King for the umpteenth time, Sokka and Katara were mourning the loss of their mother, Aang was shouldering enormous responsibility that isolated him from his grammar school friends, Toph was being sheltered and completely restricted from most activities by her parents, and Zuko. Well Zuko hasn’t shared much about his childhood with you but the parts he did definitely weren’t filled with faith, trust, and pixie dust.

Your thoughtful reminiscing was quickly interrupted by Sokka barging through the front door, carrying three cups of Jasmine Dragon tea. While handing one cup to his sister and one cup to you, a devilish smirk grew on his face.

“You got your boyfriend sick.”

“My what?”

“You heard me. Iroh told me he came in for his shift all wheezing and hacking and snivelly and had to send him home. Sounds a lot like someone I know.”

“I- Sokka, Zuko isn’t my boyfriend. “

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not the funniest, sexiest, strongest, most talented man on the planet.”

You heard Katara nearly choke on her orange juice and you reached to pat her on the back before grabbing your wallet and house keys.

“Okay well, I don’t have time to unpack all of that with you. I have to get to the diner.”

At this point, Sokka had already made his bowl of cereal and with a very full mouth, he seemed to be talking to his spoon more so than you. “That’s because you know it’s Zuko.”

“What?”

“I said tell Suki I love her!”

With a roll of your eyes, you headed out the door. For a few moments, you grumbled to yourself over the annoyance of Sokka’s teasing. But very quickly into your walk to the diner, a wave of guilt rushed over you. Zuko is sick with the flu. You knew you shouldn’t have snuggled up to him or cried on his shoulder while watching Toy Story 2!

“Okay but it’s not all my fault. He’s the one that kissed me on my feverish forehead. That was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself.

Once at the diner, you headed to the workroom to get your apron but before starting the breakfast shift, you took out your phone to send a quick text.

hey heard you were sick :( how ya doing?

Not a minute goes by before you get a response.

Uncle exaggerates. I’m completely fine.

Letting out a sigh, you wonder how you could have met anyone as stubborn as you. The small smile forming on your lips is quickly erased by the sound of your manager calling for you to get on the floor. Your sick friend would have to wait.

The morning shift started out the same as it always had, and you were grateful for the routine after being out sick for the past week. A couple of the regulars welcomed you back with warm smiles and kind tips, while you still made sure to avoid small talk with some of the other diner patrons. Seriously, what was up with that cabbage obsessed man? The morning hours seemed to fly by with ease. Just as you were refilling a coffee pot, however, your calm routine was shattered when you noticed a very pale, black-haired man slouched over one of your tables.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled at him before passing his table to refill one of your other table’s coffee mugs.

“Getting some breakfast,” he whispered back, propping his droopy head up on his hand.

“Well it’s almost lunch now, you idiot.”

“Getting some brunch then.” A dopey smile appeared on his face but you could see in his eyes that he must not have slept well last night.

“Zuko,” you said, almost scolding. “You shouldn’t be here. You have the flu.”

“I do not. I’m just tired. Can I have some coffee, please?”

“If you’re just tired, why do you sound all congested?” you asked as you poured some coffee for him.

“Allergies,” he replied simply but unconvincingly.

“Oh my god, Zuko,” you began to raise your voice but immediately regretted it when you saw your friend raise his hands to his head. A migraine no doubt, the memory of those still fresh in your head from your own bout with the flu. Lowering your voice, you spoke to him again.

“Why did you come here when you’re sick?”

“It’s Tuesday. I always come in for breakfast on Tuesdays to see you.”

Goddamnit. After being out for a week, you completely lost track of what day it was. Also goddamnit again. Zuko really dragged himself out just to keep up this little ritual even though he looks AWFUL. Okay, not completely awful because somehow even when he’s sick, the way he looks at you could give you chills and suddenly you’re remembering that forehead kiss again and--

“Excuse me, miss? Can I get some more orange juice?”

“Yes, of course. One moment please,” you snap out of your thoughts and reply to your waiting tables.

Before going over to satisfy your customer’s request, however, you turn back to Zuko with a gentle smile. “I’ll bring you some toast and some fruit. I’m sure that’s all you’ll be able to keep down anyways.”

It didn’t take long for the kitchen to fill Zuko’s order and once it was complete, you headed back over to his direction. You had to stop right in your tracks for a moment though and take in the picture before you. In the booth sat a sleepy little Zuko still perched up on his hand but his eyes have fluttered shut. Noiselessly, you place down his plate of toast and fruit in front of him and gently nudge his shoulder to wake him up.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Eat as much as you can. I’ve got one more table to take care of before my shift ends. Then you can drive me home. If you can stay awake, that is.”

“Mmmmmm thanks,” he muttered into his hand. 

You left him to pick at his food while you finished up with your last table. When you returned to Zuko about twenty minutes later, you jokingly congratulated him on eating half of his toast and a couple pieces of cantaloupe-- probably more than you had eaten when you had the flu yourself. As you started taking away his plate, you caught Zuko reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet. Knowing what little you actually served him, you stopped him before he could take out more bills than was necessary.

“No, stop. We talked about this. I don’t take tips from friends.”

“It’s only fair and it’s the right thing to do.”

“No. You took care of me when I was sick, that covers it fine.”

“How ‘bout another tip? You should wear your hair up more often. It looks nice like that.”

“Here’s one for you. You’re delirious. Give me your keys, I’m driving.”

With that, your shift was over and you were gathering your things to go home. Zuko did manage to put up a little bit of a fight over letting you drive but once you shot him your “I’m serious, mister” look, he finally gave in. It was a short drive back home but you couldn’t help but glance over at your passenger every now and again. It was rare to see Zuko in such a state as he is always the put-together one in the friend group. That wave of guilt rushes over you again since you were the one that got him sick in the first place.

“No, it was the forehead kiss. His own fault,” you mumble to yourself.

“What?”

“NOTHING. Uh, Katara still has some leftover soup. Why don’t you come up and have some? OH! And we can finish Toy Story 2 since someone didn’t let me finish it last time.”

“I’ll come for the soup but not for the movie.”

“ZUKO. I was cured by the nostalgic joy of my childhood, it can cure you, too!!”

“I don’t have any ‘nostalgic joy from my childhood’ in case you forgot. My mother left, my father scarred my face, and my sister hates me.”

Thankful you had come to a red light, you looked over to Zuko with concern. But he did not look back. His head was leaning on the window and with his arms folded, he avoided your gaze and continued to stare out the window.

“Well, all the more reason to finish the movie,” you tried to say lightheartedly, but the rest of the drive was silent.

Once you’ve reached the apartment, you ordered Zuko to make himself comfy on the couch while you threw some soup in the microwave. You spy a note on the kitchen counter from Katara explaining that she’s out to lunch with Aang and Sokka went to the gym with Suki. You smiled, happy that you could avoid good-natured sibling teasing for the time being. When the soup was ready, you turned to find Zuko sitting on the couch under a pile of blankets and holding the remote for the DVD player.

“I thought you didn’t want to finish the movie,” you questioned, handing him the bowl of soup.

“But you do.”

Your grinned ecstatically, quickly moving to sit next to him on the couch.

“You shouldn’t get too close. You’ll get sick again.”

“I’m immune now, it’s fine,” you said as you reached to share one of his blankets.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. At all,” he replied, but his protests ended there as the movie started back up.

As you were getting yourself comfortable on the couch, your arm grazed Zuko’s and your body shook, chilled from the cold skin. Zuko noticed immediately and looked over at you questioningly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, you’re just cold. Eat your soup, it’ll warm you up.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Um, I had to take those pills when you watched me so the least you can do is eat some soup.”

With a small smirk, Zuko obliged and ate a few spoonfuls of soup before laying back against the couch. You cuddled up closer to him, figuring if the soup doesn’t warm him up, you definitely could. Once you rested your head on his shoulder, his head gently tilted to rest on yours, a much familiar scene from the time you were sick. Although the roles have been reversed this time around, the warmth of happiness bursting through your chest from this closeness is unchanged. You felt his left arm wrap around you before settling at your waist, and you reach up with your right hand to hold onto his. Sure, Toy Story 2 isn’t a romantic movie by any means, but it makes you happy. Just like Zuko does.

The movie ends with Wheezy singing his rendition of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” and you looked up at Zuko as if to say, “See? I told you Wheezy comes back. I love this part,” but he’s already asleep. It seems like you’ll never be able to get him to watch the whole movie, but you sighed contently anyways. Then, in a fit of sudden boldness, you sat up to inch closer to Zuko and kiss his cheek softly. 

He stirred and looked at you through drowsy, half-closed eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I can’t kiss you back properly while I’m sick.”

You smiled and leaned in closer.

“I’ll settle for a forehead kiss for now.”

“Deal.” After giving to you what you asked for, he gazed admiringly at you for a few moments before falling back to sleep. You could have sworn he had a dopey grin on his face, too, and you wondered if this is what Katara saw on you the past few nights. You settle back against Zuko’s chest and let his breathing lull you to sleep. The two of you fell into such a deep sleep, while in each other’s arms, that not even the sound of Katara and Sokka double hi-fiving after spotting you both on the couch woke you up.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Holy Milkshake (Walter Marshall x you) (with visuals)

MASTERLIST BLOG

Characters: Walter Marshall x You

Summary: For you, ‘taking the sinner to church’ would be possible. But, not for Walter. He knew everything about you, even with the way you think that he’d taken methods of setting up a tracking device to follow you; getting him infuriated to see you having a ‘little date’ with the stalker who has murdered his exes. 

Warnings: Blasphemy. A twisted stalker. Reader being sly, also naughty and not asking Marshall for help. Date rape drugs mentioned. Suggestive content in the end. Ahem. The use of the word brat. OC named Vergil. You can imagine whoever you want for Vergil. 

Words: 1,5k +

A/N: OOF! PAPA BEAR MARSHALL! This is my first oneshot/drabble for him! I’m sorry if this look rushed! I’ve written this for only an hour and a half. This was supposed to be a drabble, but..Surprise! Ahe! I was inspired by the GIF collection of Demivampirew, which resulted for a oneshot. Mwohahahaha.I don’t even know how it ended up with Marshall sounding like a zaddy in this one. Oof!

Taglist: @fangirl-inthe-us​ @rahdaleigh​ 

REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE IT A LIKE, IF YOU’VE LIKED THIS SHORT ONESHOT! THANK YOU! 

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Credits to Demivampirew for the GIF collection. 

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Banana fudge milkshake.

It surprisingly tasted too sugary with every sip as your friend chattered for about an hour already since the moment you agreed on the so-called date you despise of.

The drink piped through the pillows of your lips. Your mouth wrapped on the red and white striped straw that didn't help the slight quiver of your mouth; used as a pacifier to soothe those agitated nerves you had as you were sitting before the 'friend' you thought who had no malicious intentions.

Maybe, it was a bad idea to never inform your boyfriend who could maintain the rounds of psychotic men with handcuffs and rails as a way of dealing the whole rendezvous you've planned to make.

Everything was going smooth. Probably, only an ounce of squeezed up faith as you could see the light and where this was going. If only you could start and try to slide in the conversation he somehow didn't want you to interrupt on; talking about how he was so happy to have a date with you, all those bullshit of beating around the bushes then the real discussion will surely go north.

Until, you've seen that familiar sweater who slid on to the chair beside the criminal named Vergil; the whole 'take the sinner to church' was definitely traveling down south to jail because of his sudden appearance.

You've choked on your own milkshake and coughed out some that went straight to your throat at the image of your tired, roughly bearded, curly haired police officer; sitting his sinewy, wide back on the chair with a tight, disappointed frown.

Well, someone looks mad.

"You're one word away from being tackled to the ground," the man beside him jumped from his interruption, making the chair shriek from being shocked at seeing Marshall sat beside him, all brooding and serious.

It was an ear-piercing sound that caught some of the diner's attention. You've given them a tight lipped smile before they went on to their daily activities and conversations inside the restaurant as you looked rather safe especially that Marshall was already with you.

Your boyfriend continued to give you a glare, his perspective solely on what he was seeing in front of him. His precious little lady sitting in the same table with her perverted stalker. He definitely couldn't believe that you've taken it too far, trying to help this person to change when it needed stones and brutal punishments or long life realizations for a rotten man like Vergil.

Walter was undoubtedly disappointed and furious.

His bright Cerulean eyes were sharp, brutal and piercing as he continued to focus on you, "Your car has multiple bags of heroin and drugs that can tranquilize people if taken in enough dosage---fucking date rape drugs," though, the message was sent to Vergil who was beginning to shit bricks as soon as he'd seen the gun tucked in Marshall's pants.

Walter grabbed onto his hand cuffs, abruptly throwing them on the table as he continued to spit fire. Shoulders tense and his expressions livid, "It's either you put these on," he hissed after throwing the cuffs towards Vergil, his eyes fixated on you as it was silently telling you how displeased he was for your acts, "---or I'll do it myself. But, you'll regret it."

You've let out a sigh. Deep inside, you were relieved because he would save you from Vergil's annoying chatters but somehow irked to know he had you tracked or have given you a tracking device to soothe his protective and utmost crazy antics for trying to keep you safe; out of harms way.

"You were following me, Lovey. Where's the tracking device?"

Your boyfriend gave you a scornful, tight lipped smile. A sudden change of his features that got your heart racing on how attractive he still was for getting his pants in a twist from your shenanigans.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

A grin was sent to him, "My milkshake brings all the boys to my yard?" and you couldn't help but motion for both men who sat before you with Vergil obviously trying hard to think of an escape plan.

He'd faintly shook his head in sheer disappointment.

"Funny." Walter gave a sluggish, nonchalant response as he rolled off his shoulders, leaning his crossed arms on the table as his anger was boiling in a temperature that tells; you were in a much more danger than having lunch with your stalker, "This guy over here---" he gave a curt nod to his side, "---This perverted asshole has retrieved belongings from you---some definitely personal items and you think he'll read a bible or repent over the women he killed if you calmly tell him all about it?"

You fidgeted and chewed the straw in your mouth, watching Walter seethe and heavily sigh from your response, "People change."

"Not dumbfucks like him, sweetheart." he spat, jaw clenching to the extent of seeing the muscles in his neck strain.

Marshall briefly gave him a glimpse as he called out the elephant in the room, quickly regretting because of how he wanted him to rot in the jail for years or forever, "---Don't you, Vergil?"

Vergil began to shake his leg as he sat, nervous and utterly anxious for what was about to come. His face turned red in rage, breathing staggered as he gave you glare; feeling betrayed when he should've been scared for his life because you knew his secretive, twisted habits. Stalking his target, knowing their houses and where they lived, grabbing onto personal things that his target loved using or wearing; panties, bras and those sorts before finding ways to befriend you till he could manipulate and end up loving you up until the point that he could kill for you.

The toxic type of love that seemed to be out of hand in which he has murdered his exes due to jealousy and other unreasonable explanations.

"I knew it! I fucking knew you were plotting this whole fucking thing with your fucking bodyguard over here---"

Marshall gave him a grumpy retort, "Boyfriend is a much more better term,"

Vergil's forehead was popping out veins as he exclaimed, thoroughly in fury for what you've brought him in, "Your boyfriend's part of the police force!"

You languidly blinked back, sipping on the last bits of your milkshake. Did he really not know that he was part of the police force? you puckered your lips at the silent thought; droning as you went on in admiring how you've raised Walter's hackles.

"---He cares and just loves me too much. He followed me. Didn't text him, tho. But, I assure you. He's no twisted stalker like you, Vergil. You certainly need to rot in hell,"

Walter knew you were liking this whole safeguard thing. It was all an act from you because he could see the tiny flicker of mockery in those beautiful eyes; knowing that you've gotten under his skin from the sudden tea party you've worked on.

Though, a pity party for you.

Walter gave him a glance, nodding towards the door where two police officers stood and waited for the catch, "Now, you'll meet two men out on the threshold. In less than one minute, if you're still here planning on kowtowing to lessen the punishments then you're a dunce."

Your boyfriend eyed him sternly, motioning for the handcuffs that rested on the table; saying its hello to its new capture, "What will---what---"

Vergil stammered and shakily took the handcuffs in front of him, scoffing when he heard Marshall grumble with a knowing tone of his that poured a little bit of his accent.

"You're under arrest for fuck's sake. Not quite complicated to understand, isn't it?"

Once the stalker was out of sight, being harshly taken by your boyfriend's co-workers; you couldn't help but emit a shaky breath, palms sweating a lot more than it ever did when Vergil was around because this time you were enthusiastic of what was about to happen in between an enraged police officer and his deceitful little woman.

"Oh, Lovey."

You've heard another set of metal chiming against each other. Yet, this time; the handcuffs were thrown towards you. His face etching in complete seriousness and disappointment. Though, inside those ocean eyes, you knew there was a hint of mischief and passion.

"Put these on." he rasped in full authority, his beard looking so inviting for wanting a short visit in between your throbbing heat since the moment he came to interfere.

"---Because you've been bad, sweetheart," pause. "---and I have zero patience for brats like you,"

You squirmed against your seat, hastily grabbing onto the handcuffs thrown on the table with a grin on your face, subtly looking outside to see your boyfriend's truck parked at the far distance before plucking the manacles off the table and sliding off the seat; with your lieutenant paying for the lunch he loathed, feeling his eyes heavy and thoroughly deprived of seeing your face after nose diving in murder cases he had been working on for weeks.

Marshall hated to see you leave. Those peepers trained on how you've dramatically swayed your hips while you waved the cuffs in the air.

But, he loved watching you go with that naughty derriere snapping from side to side.

THANK YOU FOR READING! STAY SAFE WHERE EVER YOU ARE, BB’S! Watch out for people who have wicked intentions for you! Don’t trust easily!

[thefanficmonster]

For Better And Through Worse

Rodney Skinner (The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance

Summary: Y/N is a simple girl with big dreams. She works hard towards her goal of travelling the world, seeing all it has to offer. She’s also a devoted student, one with the hopes of one day fulfilling yet another dream of becoming a fashion designer and leaving the town her and her sister have been stuck working in. Her stars align and fate smiles down upon her one day when a rather mysterious man makes his way in the café she works at.

Requested by Anon. Hello there! I’m so terribly sorry to be posting your request so late, dear. I hope the fic makes the wait worth it. This is the first time I’ve been introduced to this character and this movie in its entirety and I absolutely loved it! Thank you so much for the request and for your patience. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

“Close that book, Y/N! Your shift’s starting!“ My manager scares me half to death when his voice suddenly booms throughout the empty diner. 

It’s close to one in the morning and I’m stuck with the shitty overnight shift tonight because my older sister wasn’t feeling well. I arrived early while my friend still hadn’t finished his shift and decided to kill time productively by studying behind the cash register. Even though my shift has started, there is no real reason for me to abandon my book considering how dead the place is. Dead, eerie and unsettling. It’s 24/7 diner in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Well, our town in general is a big ‘nowhere’. If you came here on vacation - no you didn’t. You probably got lost along the way to a different destination. If you live here - good luck, hope you get out soon.

A young, 5′2 girl with only a can of pepper spray to defend herself with left in a café working the shift from one to eight AM. That’s simply ludicrous! I can hardly believe my manager has the audacity to leave like this. Not even a ‘call if you need anything’ out of politeness. Nothing! He doesn’t like any of the workers here so I don’t take it personal but he’s EXTRA mean to me because my sister turned his offer of a date down. It’s a surprise he hasn’t fired the both of us yet. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if he’d be doing damage or doing us a favor by firing us.

I wait for the jerk to leave before reopening my book and proceeding with my reading. I can’t contain the smile that automatically appears on my face whenever my mind wanders into the contents of the pages. Seeing the pictures of the fashion creations gives me hope that one day I’ll be standing in front of a mannequin that will be displaying a piece I’ve designed. A piece won’t be enough though. I want an entire clothing line. Several even! The fiery passion in me won’t be easily satisfied - I have a vivid goal in mind and I won’t rest until I have it in my hands, until I’m looking at my clothes in the windows of shops and in magazines.

I unintentionally stop reading let myself daydream - well, it’s more like dreaming with open eyes considering it’s one AM. My imagination is sometimes so real it scares me. It all feels like I can reach out and grab it, hold it close, live it for a little while. However, that ideal life is soon ended by the sound of the bell that hangs above the door of the café ringing. I come flying down from my daydreaming cloud with a startled jump. My heart is beating quickly for no real reason other than the fact that there’s a person here at this hour. Knowing the type of town this one is, they are either one of the local drunks or not local at all. An outsider. The ones that everyone assumes are criminals on the run.

I couldn’t blame them if they said that about this guy. Mysterious, shady, suspicious - all adjectives that describe him perfectly. His sudden presence makes me uneasy. Many outsiders who choose to stick around for a bit frequent this bar, therefore I know some of them. This one I have never seen before. He almost looks unreal - a walking doll. He’s got an abnormally pale, sheet white complexion, a top hat and sunglasses. Sunglasses?! At the dead of an already pitch black night. I’m surprised he hasn’t stumbled into something yet. Maybe he has, what do I know.

“Good evening. One beer please.“ He says, hopping onto a bar stool and resting his elbows on the counter top of the bar that some ways down from the cash register - the two counters are connected.

“Coming right up.“ That’s the usual response I give to customers but I’ve never said it so hesitantly. He’s not being creepy or anything, he’s not even doing the staring most customers do which while uncomfortable, I still have to tolerate. The only truly off-putting thing about him is his appearance and the fact that he’s here at this hour. Drinking beer.

I keep my gaze on him out of the corner of my eye as I go fetch a cold beer bottle from the fridge behind the bar. I typically do waitressing, but I know my way around the bar as well. I see him reach for yesterday’s paper one of the previous customers has left there. He’s still distracted by it when I approach him and put a coaster down in front of him as well as the beer bottle, mumbling a quick: “Here you go.”

He lifts his head only enough to give me a nod with a small smile. From that proximity, the color of his skin looks more like paint, which is even more unsettling. He has also taken off his sunglasses, his eyes now free to make direct contact with mine which makes me pause for a second before asking the second routine question, “Anything else?”

“Uh, yes....“ His eyes go down to my nametag, “Y/N, could you tell me where this address is?“ He slides a piece of paper over closer to me. 

I reluctantly nod and look at the note he’s handed me. The letters are written in poor handwriting but I can still decipher the majority of what’s written. “This address is from the next town over, sir.” I inform him with a tightlipped smile that’s my way of sort of apologizing for the inconvenience.

He nods slowly, “Well, how far is this town exactly?” He furrows his brows at me and takes out a pen, taking the note back so he could write something at the back of it. 

“It’s a city compared to this one. It’s a two hour drive from here.“ I tilt my head to the side, discreetly looking at what he’s writing down.

“Thank you.“ He puts the note and pen away, “By the way, don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?“ He gives me puzzled look.

I scoff and shrug my shoulders, “Working, as you can see. I’m covering this shift for someone else, I don’t usually work it.” I respond nonchalantly. 

“No, I mean what are you doing working here at all?“ He points at me, “That dress, it’s self-made, right?“ 

Ok that’s off-putting. Either he is clairvoyant or it’s so obvious that an amateur has made it that he couldn’t help but notice and point it out. All I can give as an answer is a slight nod, a baffled expression on my face.

“That’s what I thought. It’s incredible.“ He probably realizes that he has caught me off-guard and has confused me, so he shakes his head with a small chuckle and a wave of his glove covered hand. “I saw the book you were reading on my way in. Fashion and design. So you’re an aspiring clothing designer?“ 

I feel relief wash over me as the confused furrow and pursed lips are replaced by a relaxed smile. I take the few steps back to where I was previously sitting and where I’ve left the book. I hand it to him once I return for him to see. “Yes, but the course here is expensive and I can’t afford it without this job.”

He nods slowly as his eyes carefully scans the pages he turns. “Impressive, so a goal-getter as well.”

I can’t help but giggle, “And a traveler at heart. I also need the money for that...” I open the book to it’s last page and show him the list I have written of places I’d like to visit. 

His eyes widen a bit in amazement as they go down the neatly written list. “You know, I’ve visited some of these places. I plan on visiting the rest as well. I could use a partner.” He winks at me playfully.

I roll my eyes, “As I said, I can’t afford it. You think I’d still be in this town if I could?” I say rather bitterly. Feels like the subject is an open wound and talking about it is the same as pouring salt on it.

“Who says you’ll have to pay a penny. I said I’d like some company, you’ll be paying me with your presence.“ His gaze is firm on mine, his tone suggesting he isn’t kidding around. I unintentionally let my disbelief morph into a ‘bullshit’ expression of distrust that causes him to raise his hands up as if surrendering, “No funny business, though I know what this looks like to you. Trust me, I wouldn’t offer that to just anybody. I sense how strongly you wish to fulfill your dreams. I see it all in your eyes, there’s a flame behind them. And...I’m gonna be honest, I’ve done many less than honorable things in my life. But when I see a chance to do good, I want to take it. Now it’s on you, take it or leave it.“

I’m stunned and frozen. I can’t even answer him. I��m just standing here with my mouth hanging open and eyes wide, staring at him awaiting for him to burst out laughing at any moment like ‘Did you really believe that?!’  But he doesn’t. He remains serious and after what feels like forever smirks, putting a hundred bucks next to the untouched beer bottle. 

“If you change your mind...I swing back the same time tomorrow.“

Before I can even shake free from my shock he has already left. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I won’t be here the same time tomorrow. I feel my heart sink as my mind races, two sides of me battling - one that wants to take the chance that’s being offered to me and the other scolding me for even considering it.

Dumb or not I’m rooting for the first side. 

Eyes don’t lie. Just like he read me so well just by looking at mine, I read him by looking at his. All he said was true, not a doubt in my mind about it. He meant all he said and for some odd reason I believe him despite him being a complete stranger. I don’t even know his name, for goodness’ sake! But I want to go with him. The hard part for me would be leaving my family behind though.

Well, I have a little less than twenty four hours and a seemingly never-ending uneventful shift ahead of me to ponder it.

                                                              *  *  *

I can’t believe any of this - not what I’ve done, not what I’m doing and most definitely not what I’m about to do.

I have packed my bags and snuck out of the house, running at full speed to the café. When I arrived I was breathless, with a heart beating faster than a galloping horse.

I’m now waiting for the man. The stranger. The person who could be anyone or anything - including dangerous - but right now all he is to me is my path to success, the person who’ll guide me to achieving my goals.

I’m about to go running away with this man, off to God knows where. No one guarantees he won’t do harm to me. I can’t be 100% certain this won’t end badly for me. All I can do is take this chance if I want to. And I really REALLY want to. 

Just as the clock strikes 1:25 AM, an old car pulls up at the curb in front of the café. I’m standing in the shadows, away from any windows to avoid being spotted by the worker who’s on the dead shift as I call it. The way the car has parked it’s positioned directly underneath a street lamp, almost like it’s under a spotlight. The door to the drivers side opens to reveal the same man from last night. When he steps out in the lamp’s light he looks to be glowing, his unusually pale complexion shinning in the light. 

“Y/N!“ I call out to him, startling him for once instead of the other way around.

He stops and looks around, taking the sunglasses off and narrowing his eyes at his surroundings. I chuckle to myself and step within the line of light, “My name’s Y/N. You already know that.” His eyes land on me and a smile spreads across his face as well as mine. “I don’t know yours though.”

He takes a step towards me, “Rodney. Rodney Skinner. Though, please don’t let that name throw you off. It was given to me for far less sadistic reasons than you may be imagining right now.”

I can’t help but laugh, “All I ask is for you to not skin me alive.”

He gives me a small bow, “I shall respect your request. Now...“ he straightens his posture and turns to motion to his car, “To freedom and adventure?”

I don’t know what takes over me and drives me to close the space between us, but it is also to blame for the fact that I pressed my lips against him. Even after realizing what I have done, I don’t pull away. I don’t see my doing as wrong - in fact, I feel like I’m doing all the right things for myself tonight. He responds to the kiss after a second or two of stunned hesitation.

The little kid in me can’t wait for this journey to commence anymore so I pull away abruptly, giving him a bright, wide smile and my eyes bright. I watch as he comes back to the present moment and nods, mumbling as if to himself a quick, “Right...” before circling around the car and opening the passenger side door. 

I gladly take a seat and fasten the seatbelt while Rodney takes my suitcase and backpack and puts them in the trunk of the car. Here it is, I’m seconds away from the biggest step in my life so far. A dangerous and risky step for sure, but the sense of freedom I feel is worth it all. The joy and excitement I feel as the car starts moving is all I need to keep looking forward and keep my mind off my family’s reaction when they find my goodbye note.

“By the way, what’s at that address you showed me yesterday?“ I ask to keep myself distracted from the aforementioned thought which is stronger than I thought it would be.

“Ah, a friend of mine, Nemo. He holds the vehicle of our travels. Tell me...“ his hand nonchalantly rests on top of mine between the seats causing me to blush, “have you ever traveled by a submarine?“

I physically jolt at the absurdness of the question, “You’re not serious!” I turn to look at him, my free hand covering my mouth which is hung open in disbelief.

He laughs, taking the hand he’s holding and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles which relaxes me. “I’m deadly serious, Y/N. Speaking of Nemo though, do you know of any good barbecue places in that town? He loves a good barbecue.”

I grimace, “No and I’d much rather never know or enter one.” He gives me a quick puzzled glance, careful not to take his eyes off the road for too long, “I’m a vegetarian.” I clarify with a snicker.

I see the realization be processed and show on his face, followed by a laugh when he says, “Oh Nemo’s gonna love ya.”

I don’t know if that was sarcasm or ironic. I just know one thing - I have so much ahead of me at the moment. Travelling, studying, meeting new people, seeing a submarine, for the love of God! And even a potential romantic relationship. The future has never looked so bright for me, and this is all thanks to this abnormal yet hypnotic man next to me.

Freedom and adventure, here we come!

[eccentricpony]

Hello dear! I kind of did a spin on this request, and the story starts around the time of their first meeting and shows the progression into a romantic relationship. Mildly inspired by Tenma’s home screen quote to practice a kissing scene.

I think it’s a good blend of angsty, spicy, funny, and fluffy, but you be the judge! I am quite fond of this piece, and I hope you are, too!  <3

Bad First Impressions

Despite your best efforts to suppress it, a dramatic sigh rumbles past your lips. And to think that you had actually looked forward to working with Tenma Sumeragi. You had watched his performances in a few teen dramas and found his ability to be quite impressive, and he was highly lauded among other actors in your professional circle for being the consummate professional and perfectionist. More like pretentious and pompous.

“…and you there-“ the haughty redhead pointed towards a mousy looking boy sitting at a diner table on set.

“Uhh, B- Bill?” the mousy boy responded meekly.

“Yeah, sure – no one just stares at the person across from them without saying anything at all. It’s creepy and weird. That goes for you, too, guy with the glasses.” He moved an accusatory finger towards Bill’s dining companion. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of “peas and carrots”? I mean, this is amateur hour stuff that you don’t even need any skill to execute…”

“Can you just close your mouth and do some work, Sumeragi?”

You could hear a pin drop in the spacious sound studio. The cantankerous teen star whipped his head towards you with a pointed glare. You were an up-and-coming actress in the teen drama scene, and although you were a year older than he was, his acting resume was at least three times the length of yours. Sure, you were pretty, and you seemed passably talented, but you had a long way to go before you could even reach the echelon of his level of expertise. And you had the audacity to criticize his judgment??

“Excuse me?!” His eyes raked up and down your form, sizing you up in an attempt to appear intimidating. The manner in which you nonchalantly rested your hand upon your hip, head-cocked and eyes rolled; it was utterly disrespectful to him, a major authority in the industry, not to mention disrespectful to your fellow actors, to the very sacred space of-

“And to think that I had heard you were a competent leader…” you continued in a jaded tone. There was a visible flare in Tenma’s cheeks, the fury sizzling behind his eyes red hot.

To his credit, he certainly had a high level of talent, but that gave him no authority to degrade his teammates, whether they be fellow actors or the key grip. You weren’t normally this abrasive, but charming teen cutie Tenma was a self-important bully who was surrounded by “yes” men. This suave schoolboy star needed a wakeup call. The scandalized celebrity opened his mouth to commence a tirade when the director stepped in.

“Now, now, please folks. Let’s be civil…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glanced between you both with a pleading look.

With a final sour stare in your direction, Tenma transformed back into TV’s favorite high school hottie with a heart of gold.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, and you also nodded in consent. Everyone placated Tenma, endured his toxic attitude because he brought them money. But one thing was for sure, you had no intention to relinquish control to tyrannical Tenma.

Japan’s Newest Sweetheart

Tenma rushed down the street, tipping the brim of his hat further down his forehead, his alarming speed drawing attention from passersby. But he couldn’t slow down now; it was only a matter of time before Igawa caught up to him and asked where he was going, and why he was going by himself, and what was he looking for after all, and a number of other questions whose answers he would very much prefer not to explain.

With the convenience store in sight, he quickened his pace until he reached the threshold, throwing open the door with a tenacity that startled the cashier. Returning upright from where he hunched over his newspaper, the shopkeep threw a cautious eye to the young man at the doorway, wearing a suspicious amount of accessories and panting like he was running from the law.

The ginger on a mission performed a quick visual sweep of the displays until he located the object he desired. Bounding forward, he approached the magazine rack and flipped open the arts & entertainment periodical to the index. …page 31…

Rifling through the flimsy pages of the gossip rag, he at last reached the article which he had sought. There looking up at him was a page-wide spread of you, armed with an impossibly charming smile and a sparkle of mischief in your eyes. The page opposite of your come-hither headshot bore the headline “Japan’s Newest Sweetheart.”

It was infuriating. You were a nobody – barely any experience at all, and certainly not in anything particularly noteworthy – yet you were the one pushed to the forefront of advertising. His eyes flicked back to your picture once, twice… I mean, it was a good photo.

Ignoring the manner in which his throat seized when met with your 2-dimensional gaze, he directed his attention to the article. His eyes tripped along the words, “captivating new series… “ “character growth and development…” – aha! He spotted his name among the text and focused on the containing paragraph.

“blah, blah… he’s a true veteran in the industry…” Tenma puffed up like a rooster at this remark. Damn right, I am. He continued to read your commentary, mouth silently forming the shape of the words, scouring each sentence for more well-deserved praise. You went on to describe the characters, their struggles and how the cast related to their roles… One line in particular raised his brow. Tenacious young man?? Young man, what? She’s like, one year older than I am! He rose his head, appalled that you would speak of him like a child. He turned back to the print, reviewing the sentence a second time. She’s not even a whole year older, we’re practically the same age. He bent his brow in concentration. He counted back from your birthday. Yeah, totally not even a year old. Tch. He chose to ignore the fact that he recalled your birthday so quickly and glowered down at you while you beamed right back up at him.

It was undeniable that he was pissed off due of all the attention you were receiving when he was the lead. Possibly because… well, maybe you did deserve it. He had come to respect your acting ability over the past few months, in particular your impressive ability to become truly immersed in a role.

But maybe also because…. well, you looked good in this spread. Like, really good. Your smile was intoxicating; why didn’t you smile at him like that?  On second thought, maybe it was for the best that you hadn’t. His hardened exterior would likely dissolve, and he’d be a stuttering, fumbling mess. Scanning your features, he noticed that they airbrushed away a tiny birthmark on your face. Or maybe it was a freckle?  And they did something to your eyebrows, they just looked off. Why would they even do that? They were perfectly fine eyebrows…

“Hey, buddy, are you going to buy that or not? This ain’t a library.”

Tenma’s head shot upright, dazed for a few moments before he comprehended the words spoken to him. His tense fists gripped the wrinkled magazine tightly, fragile pages strained and starting to tear. Loosening his hold, he spared a final glimpse at your face before neatly closing the pages and smoothing out the bent cover.

“Uhh, yeah. I am.”  

Sliding his shades further up his nose with his pointer, he coolly ambled to the checkout area and lay the gentleman’s digest upon its surface. The material refused to remain flat after its recent abuse, leaving your shirt and neck visible beneath the dog-eared pages. The employee recognized the article right away.

“That new actress is really something, huh? They say she’s going to be the next big thing.”

Tenma scoffed but offered no discourse, handing over the required yen.

“Pretty cute, too,” the young worker added as he slipped the purchased item into a plastic bag.

“Yeah, whatever,” Tenma huffed heatedly, snatching the illustrated booklet containing your first big media premiere and returning to the sidewalk to await Igawa.

Salty to Sweet

“Don’t they teach you how to stay on task in Middle School? Or are you in High School?  Your lack of common sense is misleading…”

“Funny,” Tenma retorted caustically, though more annoyed at himself than you. He had been finding it challenging to focus as of late since he bought that magazine and he kept screwing up on the same damn lines. His short fuse was growing ever shorter with every butchered word.

You could see that Tenma was downward spiraling; the spark he always carried behind those big, vibrant eyes was fading fast.

“Look, why don’t you try something else…” you started, preparing for opposition.

“What?” the taller boy began, with no small amount of skepticism. Ignoring his sour attitude, you stood opposite him and continued in a calm tone.

“Try talking to me about something you really like while staying in character.”

“Talk about something I like?” Tenma replied incredulously. “What am I, six?”

“Sometimes I wonder, with the way you hide your vegetables under your mashed potatoes during lunch, so no one notices you throwing them away.”  You smirk knowingly, pleased with the look of surprise on your fellow actor’s face.

“You saw me do that?”  Tenma stared at you with a look of both wonder and bewilderment. He was certain no one could see him do that, and you sat at another table entirely! How on earth could you have been paying close enough attention to him to spot that, unless…

“Everyone knows that,” you deflected quickly, the rosy tint on your cheeks belying your innocence in the matter. “So what are you going to talk about?” Your bitter scene partner rolled his eyes. As a veteran in the industry, he felt pretty foolish having you talk him through basic acting exercises. Yet….  There was no question that he was struggling with the script, and no better ideas came to mind. With a sigh of defeat, Tenma offered the one outlet that came to mind.

“Bonsai…” he mumbled in a barely audible tone.

“What was that?” you ask, leaning it. Your close proximity fuels a steadily growing warmth along the back of his neck. He takes a sudden step backward and repeats himself louder.

“Bonsai! Are you deaf?”

“Bonsai, huh?” You smile with amusement. “Well, that’s something you don’t read in all your magazine interviews.”

“Reading my interviews, are you?” he responds dryly, but his stomach does a flip. He thinks back on the magazine he has featuring you, kept privately stashed away in a box under his bed. The thought that maybe you had a magazine featuring him tucked away somewhere in your bedroom causes chills that ran down his broad arms and shoulders.

“Nevermind that,” you grumble, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Well, bonsai it is, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

You spend the next few minutes listening to Tenma ramble on about bonsai pruning, the proper tools to use, and even the proper light, pH and moisture levels to ensure optimal bonsai health.  Despite the fact that you now know more about bonsai trees than you would have ever cared to know, it seems that engaging, dynamic Tenma has returned. He comes to a full stop after finishing a discourse on bonsai diseases; his head now feeling clear, he’s convinced that he can recite his lines without hesitation.

“That was really good,” you commend him honestly, mirroring the pleased look on his face.

“Naturally,” he boasts in a cocky tone, feeling confident following his flawlessly delivered bonsai monologue. “It’s amazing how pleasant you can be when you’re not yelling at me,” he jibes, looking rather pleased with himself. You raise a brow at his renewed brashness, but you’ve always been quick on the trigger.

“It’s amazing how handsome you can be when you’re not scowling,” you reply with a smug expression, reveling in the crimson darkening his cheeks.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he mumbles with an air of mild embarrassment irritation, rubbing the back of his neck which is now damp with sweat.

“Who says I want to go anywhere with you?” you shoot back with a patronizing smirk before turning your attention back to the script. “SO, where were we?” you inquire loudly before he can get a word in edgewise. Thumbing through the marked-up pages, you see in your periphery that he is doing the same.

“Scenes 12 and 14 we did, 17 we did… no need to go over scene 28…”

“Why are we not practicing scene 28?” Tenma inquired in a cheeky tone. He knew exactly which scene 28 was: the kissing scene. You hadn’t gone over it yet, in read-throughs or on set. After you had just bested him in a mini battle of wits, this would be a great opportunity to even the playing field.

He had performed at least a dozen kiss scenes; it was old hat for him by now, and he knew for sure (not that he had googled your TV and film credits or anything) that you had never performed one. He was certain you’d flounder in search of a clever comeback, then, admitting defeat, blush profusely and outright refuse to do it.

“Fine, let’s do it.” You were no fool, and Tenma Sumeragi couldn’t bluff to save his life.

If Tenma wasn’t youthful and in great health, he might fear he were having a heart attack. Words seized up in his throat, and he could only manage a curt nod. He walked in a small circle, shaking his limbs as he often did while getting into character. He could do this, this was nothing. He had kissed, like, at least 12 girls before. 12! That was more girls than most men kissed in their entire lifetime! Wasn’t it? He couldn’t really think straight. With a long breath in, and out, he reformed his strategy.

He would perform a star-worthy kiss, absolutely knock-your-socks-off amazing, and then swagger out of the room while you were still swooning and dazed. His ego swelled a bit at the thought of leaving you desperate for another kiss, but his blood ran fast and furious at the thought of… well, actually having the kiss.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you started in the tone of your character’s persona, the sudden smoldering look in your eye plucking at his every last nerve.

“At lunch, in the hall… even waiting for the bus.” Slowly, you crossed the floor towards Tenma’s frozen form. “You’ve given me flirty smiles, you’ve given me teasing winks, but there’s one thing you have yet to give me...” His pulse pounded in his ears as you leaned in closer, far closer than you had ever been before. His eyes flicker anxiously to your mouth, his breath held tightly in his throat.

“A kiss” you purr, biting your lip with the thrill of anticipation. Your lip bite just about crushes any dignity that remains in Tenma; tracing the lines on your lips with a wanton stare, it takes him a few seconds of feeble gaping before he remembers he has a line.

“Come and get it,” he whimpered, his line in a tone more befitting the token band geek than a smooth high school hunk. And get it, you did.

His script is lost to the floor as you press your lips onto his, his body rendered both limp and tight all at once. He did not expect this kind of kiss from you. Or maybe it was because he was used to a stage kiss, with twenty people watching and instructions from several individuals on how to hold his mouth at just the right angle for the camera. This… this was a kiss kiss. Your soft mouth was moving fluidly against his with such hypnotic, sweet caresses that he was convinced that he had never truly kissed someone before now. It was humbling but delicious; he had no control, and he couldn’t care less.

He couldn’t contain the small whimper of disappointment you drew from his throat when at last you pulled away, slyly wiping your reddened lips with the back of your hand. Tenma watched you with a mixed look of shock and awe, as though you had just miraculously materialized from thin air. Practice was over.

“Don’t lose that script,” you called over your shoulder cheerfully as you exited the practice space. “I think you could use another review of that scene.”

The Premiere

The Interview

You: …and it’s been bittersweet, but we’re both ready to move onto new projects. Isn’t that right, Tenten?

Interviewer: Tenten? That’s adorable, is that your nickname for Tenma?

You: Yeah, I call him Tenten because to me, he’s a ten out of ten. [You place an overly-dramatic kiss on his cheek]

Tenma: [Feigns a gagging sound while seated beside you, but reciprocates the kiss] That is a heinous lie, by the way, on both counts. [Tenma’s ability to poke fun at himself is refreshing, his overall manner humble and gracious, demonstrating his tremendous growth from child star to the consummate professional actor.]

Tenma: Actually, one of my fellow trou- uh, one of my friends at the Mankai Company, Kazunari, gave me that nickname.

Interviewer: The Mankai Company, that’s right! You’re putting on a production soon, aren’t you?

Tenten: We are! I’d love to give you the details of our production if you could publish them alongside this article.

Interviewer:  Absolutely. [Turning to you] And do you usually attend Tenma’s performances? I know both of your schedules are rather hectic these days, with all the job offers you’ve both received following the highly successful final season of your most recent television drama.

You: Yes, absolutely; I attend every one.

Tenma: In the front row, every performance. [He links his arm in yours, speaking with a tangible sense of pride]

Interviewer: I’ve noticed you have at least a half dozen bonsai trees in your apartment. Is that a mutual hobby?

You: Well, it’s our thing. I mean, it’s his thing really, but it’s kind of both our thing now. [You smile at Tenma with affection]

Interviewer: And, I’ve been meaning to ask - that framed script on the wall there, is that a keepsake? Or a valuable script from one of your favorite films perhaps? [The interviewer gestures to the worn script hanging above the mantle, protected and held in place by a thick pane of glass, bearing a large penned “SCENE 28”]

Tenma: Yeah, it has a…  special meaning. [Your boyfriend contributes, glancing into your eyes with a knowing smile that only you two could understand]

[atamascolily]

After Ursula K. Le Guin died, I made an agreement with myself I would read anything and everything she'd written as the chance arose. That said, Searoad: Chronicles of Klatsand probably would have been the last on my list, had I not stumbled across a paperback copy in a library booksale (in pre-pandemic times) in a "fill a paper bag for $10" sale and it languished in my TBR pile for months before I finally got around to it.

The reason? Genre snobbery, in reverse of the usual direction. Searoad is a collection of short stories published in magazines like The New Yorker, and fancy-sounding publications with Review in their names. Serious publications publishing so-called "literary" fiction, or maybe "realistic fiction" or just plain fiction--fiction that's supposed to tell-it-like-it-is, lay bare the inadequacies of modern life, and leave you feeling empty and unfulfilled after watching empty and unfulfilled people make poor decisions in futile attempts to fill the emptiness and inadequacies of their lives. Because that’s the whole point of literature, right?

Oh. Perhaps I'm generalizing. But so it feels to me whenever I dip into one of these publications. They are "literature", everything else is "genre": romance, science-fiction, fantasy, action, adventure, thriller, mystery, crime. "Literary" fiction is usually just plain old "fiction" in the library classification systems and in common parlance: it is assumed to be the norm, the default, from which everything else is a deviation. And I hate this. I've always hated this.

To write about petty modern people with their petty modern lives is one thing--we all have our kinks--but to disdain others for imagining different things, for epics and grandeur and you-could-have-anything-so-why-not-go-for-it always struck me as a deep failure of, and disdain for, imagination. Genres, like so much else in our lives, are social constructs: us and them, the have and the have-nots. Literary fiction are the "haves", everything else is the "have-nots". That's changing, obviously, and the boundaries aren't as rigid as they once were, but I still see that divide reflected in so-called "serious" publications, and I generally avoid them.

Ursula K. Le Guin has always hugged the boundaries between "pure" genre (aka trashy, flashy, unfit for serious folk in the eyes of the pedants) and "literary merit". She's been accepted and respected by both camps, although the "literary" folks speak of the sci-fi rather patronizingly in their reviews of her works. Le Guin, however, never disdained the sci-fi labels in the same way that Margaret Atwood--another boundary-spanning writer--has always done.

For this reason, I've retained infinitely more respect for Le Guin than Atwood, despite Atwood's considerable talents as a writer. Atwood wants to play with sci-fi tropes, but she doesn't have the backbone to stand up and be proud of it. Atwood wants to write science fiction but not be judged for it, and the easiest way to do that (since genres are a social construct) is just to firmly insist that it's not sci-fi at all--move along, nothing to see here.

Here's a blurb on the back of my copy of Searoad by Carolyn Kizer, a Pulitzer-prize winning poet from the Pacific Northwest:

"For a number of years, the only science-fiction I read was that of Ursula K. Le Guin. I don't read science-fiction any more, thought I wouldn't think of missing a book of Le Guin's. She has transcended the genre..."

How very generous and open-minded of you to only read science-fiction so elevated it “transcends” its genre entirely, thereby becoming worthy of notice. And this is supposed to make me like literary fiction? 

That said, the irony is that Kizer’s statement sums up my approach to non-genre stuff as well, although I would not have phrased it quite so baldly. More like “Okay, not usually my cup of tea--but if it’s you, it’s okay....” The genre transcending thing, as much as I despise the phrasing, works both ways here.

All this is to say I finally read Searoad, even though I had to coax myself into it by pretending that this was an alien society that Le Guin and I were exploring together in order to tell us stuff about our own, and that helped. It also helped because the stories were so damn good, and I got carried away, even though they are very literary stories, with ambiguous endings, the usual focus on unexpressed and/or self-destructive emotions of love, birth, and death, and no magic or wizards or dragons whatsoever.

(To repeat: I am a genre snob who has never understood why writing without dragons was inherently better than writing with dragons in it. I have always operated under the principle that dragons made everything better. And I have never understood why depicting the world as it is was a stroke of literary genius, if all you were going to do with it it is show people being unhappy in the usual old ways instead of unusual ways. Or even imagine something new and different!)

Searoad reminds me of Lake Wobegon a little, but that's only because it's a small town, with characters from one story popping up in others in the most unexpected places--just like small town life. After a while, it feels like we're constantly running into old friends, a shared world--real, but in a good way. The stories were published across a wide range of outlets from 1987-1991, yet flow into each other astonishingly well when read in rapid succession, or indeed, in any order at all.

My favorite is "True Love," which is all about ditching unsatisfying conventional relationships to focus on one's true passion instead:

For me, sex is sublimation. Left to itself, in its raw, primitive state, my libido would have expend itself inexhaustibly in reading.

And since I have been a librarian ever since I was twenty, I can truly compare my life to that of some pasha luxuriating in his harem--and what a harem! Half a million mistresses, when I was at the Central Library in Portland! A decade-long orgy! And during the school year, since I teach now at the Library School, I have access to the University Library. Here in Klatsand where I spend the summers, the harem is very small and a good many of the houris are rather out of date, but then so am I. My lust has lessened somewhat with the years. Sometimes I imagine I could be contented with a mere shelf of tried, true, and highly selected Scheherazades, with only now and then a pretty little novel to flirt with, or a volume of new poetry to make me cry out with excess of pleasure in the heart of the night.

And in the same story, Le Guin makes it clear she's one of us:

"Do you like science fiction" I asked her, because all I can really talk about is books. And of course, she couldn't talk about books. That had been knocked out of her years ago. We compromised on "Star Trek," new and old. She liked the new series as well as the old one. I liked the old one better. Antal stared, not at Rosemarie, only at me. "You watch it?" he said. "You watch television?"

I didn't answer. ... I was not going to let him try to shame us for our commonness.

"The one I liked best was the one where Mr. Spock had to go home because he was in heat," I said to her.

"Except, he never, you know," she said. "They just had a fight over the girl, him and Captain Kirk, and then they left."

"That's his pride," I said, obscurely. I was thinking how Mr. Spock was never unbuttoned, never lolled, kept himself shadowy, unfulfilled, and so we loved him. And poor Captain Kirk, going from blonde to blonde, would never understand that he himself loved Mr. Spock truly, hopelessly, forever.

Reader, I LOLed. Because it's true. You know it, I know it, and so does Le Guin. And she had the guts to say so in the Indiana Review, and the editors published it. LEGEND.

Like all of Le Guin's writing, the stories in Searoad are lyrical, elegant, soaring, and moving--sympathetic, yet unafraid to call out bad behavior and terrible things when she sees it. My other favorite story, "Sleepwalkers," is a brilliant example of this: it starts with a complaint by a privileged male playwright about the housekeeper at his summer cabin, only for us to quickly learn (if his tone and phrasing didn't give it away) that he's an arrogant asshole who sees only what he wants to see and misses what's actually in front of him. We then pivot to a number of other people at the little resort, and their views of the housekeeper, and we're left with an open question at the end: which view is more accurate? Which story do we believe? What is actually going on? Can any of us really know or understand the hidden depths within another person? It's so deep and lush and well-written, and even funny on occasions.

And there's also a diversity of viewpoints and perspectives and scenarios enough to keep me interested: a lesbian grieves the death of her long-time partner, a war veteran deals with PTSD, a college student runs off into the woods to secretly map illegal old-growth logging stands, a ghost appears in a late-night diner to a sexual-abuse victim. The ghost thing seems like it ought to fall under genre conventions, but doesn’t because of the framing, and yet it still works for me--another example of Le Guin’s skill.

Anyway, so Le Guin actually made me enjoy so-called "literary" fiction and that was unexpected and delightful. Regardless of my feelings about most "realistic" fiction, I'm glad I read this collection.  

[al-pomegranate-seeds]

Ashes On Your Eyes

“When Virgil fails to pay rent for the third month in a row, he has nothing else to do except ask for help. That goes better than he expected, except now he has to deal with the fact that their feeling are doing all they can to come out to the surface.“

Pairings: Romantic LAMP, romantic Roman/Logan/Patton, endgame romantic DLAMP.

Genre: Urban Fantasy.

Tags: Fluff, getting together, Logan and Virigl are non-binary, Roman and Patton are both trans men, fae Logan Sanders, half-elf Roman Sanders, dragon Virgil Sanders, polyamory.

Characters: Roman Sanders(Castle), Logan Sanders(Croft), Patton Sanders(Morales), Virgil Sanders.

Eigth installment on my Unicia series, and direct sequel to Lilac Leaves.

AO3

Roman huffed as he looked at his shoes. For years, they have served him, but finally they succumbed to the hours dancing and running and whatever the hell he did at the theater that made the soles detach. He could only grumble at himself as he was reminded of how many times Logan had said he should apply some durability spells to it, but had he listened? He had, actually, it’s just that he immediately forgot about it like ten minutes later.

He set the shoes down as he saw Virgil walk towards him, looking vaguely sympathetic as well as amused.

“So, bad shoes?” Virgil asked, not making any effort to hide that little smirk that never failed to make Roman want to – do things. That he probably shouldn’t think about right now.

Roman huffed before saying, “Great shoes, actually, it’s just that they’ve been great for years and finally gave up.”

Virgil laughed lightly before sitting on Roman’s side and laying their head down on Roman’s shoulder. Roman was used to it, but surely enough, his heart did not miss the chance to start hammering in his chest. He was also used to that, it was nearing spring and their friendship had only grown, along with Roman’s feelings which didn’t seem to have any plan of going away any time soon, but he was okay with that, liking Virgil was a very nice feeling.

“Well, that’s what exercise will do to you.” Virgil said, and Roman snickered while moving so he could put his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and hold them against his chest. They only relaxed further, and if they noticed Roman’s rushing heartbeat, they didn’t say anything.

He heard Virgil’s stomach grumbling before he groaned, saying, “We should really eat something after.”

“We could go eat in my apartment.” Roman said, impulsively, and he could feel his face go red as Virgil looks at him. “I mean, you haven’t been to our new place yet, and it would be a pain to go to a diner with my fucked up shoe, and I’m sure Patton and Logan would like to see you – “

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked, worrying his lower lip between his teeth (Roman was almost overcome with the desire to grab their face and take up the job – shhhhhh fuck off), “I mean, you know I don’t like to intrude – “

“They literally love you, Virgil, I find it would be very hard for you to intrude.” Roman said, finally, and Virgil snorted.

“So you keep saying.” And after some moments of thinking, they finally said, “Yeah, alright, I miss Pat’s food anyway.”

“There you go.” He said, messing up their hair, making them weakly bat at his hands, and finally Larry called everyone for their activities.

Virgil got up, dusting himself off before turning to Roman and saying, “Come on, pretty boy, human mirror time.”

And thank the ghosts he turned and walked towards the group immediately after, because Roman found himself rooted to his spot for a few moments, face and heart both warm.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Roman opened the apartment door, and immediately yelled out, “Honeys, I’m home! And I brought Virgil!”

He knew he had set fire to the figurative gunpowder line. It wasn’t secret to any of the three (and frankly it probably wasn’t a secret to their close friends either) that they were all in love with Virgil. And could you blame them? Virgil was snarky, funny, strong willed, and absolutely adorable, with their face markings and their passionate rants about the last horror movie he watched.

(He was also absolutely beautiful and – well. The three of them had a lot of trouble with wanting to kiss Virgil every ten minutes.)

“Oh!” He heard Patton say, and finally he and Logan appeared on the top of the stairs of their two-floor apartment. Roman snickered to himself when he realized they were both flushed and disheveled, Patton’s hair half falling off its ponytail and Logan buttoning up his sleep shirt (which had clearly been on the process of being opened). “Virgil!”

He went quickly down the stairs before hugging Virgil tightly. They let out a low “oomph” before hugging Patton back. While they hugged it out, Logan walked towards Roman to give him a peck on the lips, and looking at him, all flushed and pretty – he had to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him breathless because – well. Virgil was there. And they didn’t have his consent. Maybe one day.

Patton finally let go of Virgil and went to kiss Roman on the lips, and though he was sure Virgil didn’t notice, Roman could feel his hands tugging his just the slightest bit, which often meant very fun things for later.

When he finally let of Roman, Patton, with a blinding smile, said “I’m so glad you’re here! Do you want to eat anything?”

“Yeah. We’re both starving.” Virgil said.

Patton’s eyes went wide and he rushed to the kitchen, saying, "Well, we can’t have that now, can we? You both better sit down!” and they all followed behind him, as he grabbed the burgers they had ordered to eat when Roman got home.

They all sat down at the round wooden table, which was decorated with various cutesy stickers and ink stains, and as Patton set the food down, Logan put his feet on top of Roman’s lap, which gave him opportunity for some mini cuddling. They finally started eating, Virgil and Roman attacking the burger as if they hadn’t eaten in days, while Logan and Patton carried the conversation. The four of them, together and talking like this, felt like it’s what should happen every night, except with Virgil joining in on the flirting and teasing.

“Hmm, you know, if this was your nightly routine, I’m pretty sure I would never leave your house.” Virgil said, and Roman watched Logan’s face go shiny in a blush, while Patton looked at him over the rim of his glass of soda.

He put the glass down before saying, “Well, we certainly wouldn’t complain!”

This seemed to stir something up in Virgil’s brain, because he looked down at the table, looking like he was thinking hard about something before letting out a deep breath. “Actually, I wanted to ask you guys something.”

They all sobered up and straightened themselves, while Virgil put their hands on their table before saying, “You know I hate to ask for things, but I’m not gonna be able to pay rent this month, and this will be the third month in a row so – “ They let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I thought about sharing a place with Thomas but he’s already living with Corbin and Sloane and their apartment is pretty small, and I really don’t want to bother you but – “

“You can come live here.” Roman blurted out, and everyone looked at him. He ignored his red face and instead looked at Virgil, who had a scared but hopeful expression on his own face. “I mean, that’s what you were going to ask, right? This apartment’s plenty big, we got two guest rooms, and I’m sure none of us have a problem with this.”

“Right!” Patton finally said. “Of course, honey! You can live here for however long you need to!”

Virgil looked at Logan, who quickly nodded, and sighed, visibly relieved. “Thank you, guys, really I swear I’ll only stay here until I get a better job – “

“Frankly, Virgil, you staying here would hardly be a problem, even if it were to be permanently.” Logan said, and Virgil went bright red, the markings under his eyes turning from black to a light purple that wasn’t quite lilac, but it sure as hell was shiny.

“That – Thanks. I’ll, um, I’ll bring my stuff over next week?” They all nodded, and went back to eating.

When Virgil hugged them goodbye and went home, it only took the time they needed to lock the door before Patton pulled Roman by the shirt and pushed him onto the sofa, quickly climbing into Roman’s lap and kissing the breath out of him.

As Roman felt Logan sitting down by his side and tangle his fingers into his hair, he let out a whimper that was swallowed by Patton’s mouth.

He was sure he wouldn’t come out of this with a lot energy.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

It’s next week, and they have just moved all of Virgil’s boxes into his new room. Virgil is laying down on the bed, mentally exhausted, some dark arts band playing in the background. All of his records, all of his notebooks, all of his family trinkets, were stashed in big boxes, and while they technically knew it would be better to start unboxing them now(specially before any of the other three did something well-meaning and found something embarrassing), they couldn’t bring themself to get out of bed. Before they could decide on something, someone knocked on the door.

They grumbled out a “Come in”, and Roman’s face appeared. “Hey, we’re going to have dinner now, if you’d like to join us.”

Virgil took a deep breath, before saying, “Yep. I’ll be down soon.”

Roman smiled at him before finally going down the stairs. Virgil just let his head hit the mattress as he repeatedly thought the word “shit”.

Why couldn’t he just be a normal friend? Why did he have to go and fall in love with a guy who didn’t have one, but two partners? And then, of course he fell for the partners too, because that was just his luck.

If mom had been here, they would have laughed before messing up his hair and saying “You feel too much love, little spider. Something like this was bound to happen.”

Oh, how he missed them, the markings under their eyes always either white or bright pink. How he missed the village, and their parents, and the food that never failed to make him feel full and loved.

Virgil decided he should go eat before he started crying.

The next couple of weeks went quickly as Virgil’s mind refused to process the change, and the fact that he was now living with the three men he loved. And honestly, could you blame him for loving them? Surely not. They were all very lovable.

Virgil was in the kitchen with Patton. The two of them were waiting for the cupcakes to bake so they could decorate them, and in the meantime, Patton was rambling on about his plans for Roman’s birthday, talking about the party they were planning to throw on Logan’s parents’ apartment. Apparently, there was going to be peach and strawberry cake, because those were Roman’s favorite fruits, and lots of honey, so they could expect Logan to get drunk at some point.

The oven beeped and Virgil got up quickly so they could open it. Needless to say, but it smelled amazing, vanilla and chocolate were his favorite sweet flavors, and this was literally Patton’s job, so Virgil almost said they should forget the decorating and just eat everything.

But Patton was really excited to make the cupcakes pretty, so Virgil went to grab the tray, except Patton yelped before he could even touch it.

“Virgil! You’re not wearing mitts!” He says, looking like he was going to get up and stop Virgil if they didn’t stop themself.

“Huh? Oh!” They laughed, before saying, “No, it’s okay, Pat! I’m draconic.”

“Oh!” Patton’s eyes go wide, and after Virgil grabs the tray bare handed and sets it on the table, he grabs their hand and examines it. “Oh, you’re right; it’s not even red, is that where your markings come from?”

“Yeah. They’re birthmarks, my mom had theirs on their neck, and when neutral they were white, but they would turn every shade of pink. My scales do that, too, look. “And then they pulled at their shirt collar to show the scales that started at their chest, and were now a glittery, deep shade of violet, just like Virgil’s markings. “They’re usually black, but when I’m content or laughing they go this color.”

“Oh.” Patton let out, and when Virgil looked back at him, his face was slightly red, with a lovely smile that showcased emotions Virgil couldn’t quite name. “Do you want to talk more about this while we decorate?”

“Oh – sure! I can’t believe I haven’t talked about the village to you three –“ and they went on and on about it as the two of them filled the icing bags.

“My particular village was on like, the top of a hill, with lots of forests and rivers. The winter could get real cold, and, you know, scaly, so by that time we would usually just all go into a big break, everyone had premade food they had been cooking and preserving with magic for months.” They grabbed a bit of icing in their fingertip and licked it off before continuing, “The family structure was different too, it was like, you know that saying, takes a village to raise a child? That was basically it. We had our specific families, we call them hoards though, and they were a lot bigger and less defined, my family was my mom, their sister and a lot of people that they loved but weren’t blood related.”

“That’s awesome.” Patton said putting little gummies on top of one of the cupcakes, “I think families would be a lot more fun if the definition was looser.”

“Yeah, definitely.” They went back to decorating the cakes.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Virgil was laying down on the couch, his head on Logan’s lap. She was reading a book about potion theory, while he was half-awake and enjoying her hands on his hair. He could feel himself purring, and if he wasn’t so deeply content he would probably be embarrassed, but honestly, who cared about being embarrassed when there was a pretty, glittery fairy playing with your hair?

Logan hums, captivated by something in her book, and Virgil hums back in a question.

“Oh, I was simply just reading about the use of potions in helping trans people transition, and I realized that our household is entirely trans.”

Virgil giggled a bit. Now that Logan had said it, he realized it was a bit true. “Well, technically I’m not trans.”

“Oh?” Logan put down her book, putting her other hand on Virgil’s hair as well, so clearly you couldn’t fault him for melting and closing his eyes again. “Why is that?”

Virgil took a moment to come back to themself (which was harder than people would think, with Logan basically petting them like a cat), before saying, “Well, being trans is, your gender not matching what you were assigned at birth and - “ He was interrupted by a low,  pleased grown when Logan lightly scratched his scalp, before, with a red face, saying, “I technically wasn’t assigned anything at birth, that’s not how my village did it, they just use gender neutral pronouns until kids find out what fits better.”

“Interesting.” Logan says, a subtle smirk on her lips. “So you don’t consider yourself trans?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m also definitely not cis, I mean, my experiences line up a lot more with trans people than cis people, you know? Oh, do that again.”

Logan’s smirk grows as she buries his fingers on Virgil’s hair with intent, and as their purring gets louder, she simply says, “You’re adorable.”

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Virgil was sitting down on the couch, wasting time on his phone, when he heard a voice dramatically belting out something that he vaguely recognized was from a musical. He playfully groaned, setting his phone down just in time for Roman to grab him by the hand and pull him for a dance.

Virgil went with a yelp, and he was helpless to do anything besides let himself be led in a dance that didn’t seem to have a lot of rhythm, but Roman surely made up for it in enthusiasm, spinning Virgil around with ease as if he was made of cotton, and Virgil only managed to giggle and yelp before Roman finally gave him some reprieve and let him go. As he was breathing heavily, Roman continued to sing and dance on his own, before finally trailing off with a bow and an adorably expectant face.

Virgil couldn’t just look at that face and not go along with it, so they just started clapping before saying, “Good news?”

“Marvelous news! I have just been informed that the theater agreed to play one of my favorite musicals and I am ecstatic!” He said, arms up in the air. “Oh, this calls for a celebration! A dine out night with all my loves!”

Virgil winced internally. Of course, it made sense that he would want to go out with his partners before anything.

Roman took out his phone and started typing away happily, “Oh, we’re going to that fancy diner on the other side of town, I’ll text them and tell you the time so you can start getting ready – “

“Me? Why would I need to get ready?”

That apparently startles Roman, for some reason, because he stops typing and puts on this confused expression on his face, “Why – Didn’t I just say we’re going out?”

“Yeah, you said you’re taking your loves out on a dine out night.” Roman looks confused for a few seconds before his face goes entirely red.

“Oh! Right, I – I did say – I did say that – um.” He sputters, and Virgil has half a mind to laugh at him. “But, well, I do want you to come along, you know, um – “

“Hey, it’s alright, you can go out on your date, you don’t have to include me just to include me.” They say, hoping their smile hides the pain. It’s not – they have the right to go out on dates without including Virgil, it shouldn’t bother him so much. “Really.”

“That’s not – that’s not what this is at all!” Roman chews on his lip for a while, and before Virgil can start saying that they understand, he sighs heavily and says, “Fuck it, here goes nothing.”

He walks up to Virgil, stopping just in front of him to hold his hands, and says, “Virgil, I, I want to include you because – well – we love you.”

A beat passes, and Virgil finally says, “I know that, we’re friends, Patton tells me that all the time – “

“No, that’s not it. I mean – “He lets out a shaky breath, before continuing. “We love you, as in, we are all romantically attracted to you, and we want you to be a part of our relationship.”

Virgil’s ears are ringing. Surely they couldn’t have heard that right? But the longer he stays silent, the more panicked Roman’s expression gets, and finally he starts saying, “This isn’t – we were going to tell you all together, on purpose, it’s just – you’re so beautiful, inside and out, and we just – fell –“

“That’s convenient.” Virgil says, sounding a bit dazed. “Because I – I love you three too.”

They both stay silent for a few more moments, before Virgil starts giggling like a fool in love – which is exactly what he is. Roman follows him shortly, and soon they’re embracing and giggling together while Roman kisses all over Virgil’s face except for where they most want him to. Finally Roman stops his attack and just looks into Virgil’s eyes with an unfairly attractive and adoring smile that Virgil has to look up to, and honestly Virgil will melt if he doesn’t kiss Roman right this moment.

So he asks, “Can – can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.” And Roman lowers his head while Virgil gets on his tiptoes so they can finally, finally, let their lips touch, and oh geese.

Virgil mind explodes a little bit even at just their lips touching, and after Roman starts using tongue, they go weak at the knees and let out some frankly embarrassing sounds. Roman decides to have mercy on them, and walks back until his legs hit the couch, dragging Virgil to sit on his lap, before proceeding to turn Virgil’s thoughts to mush, licking and kissing and grabbing Virgil by the waist with one hand and his hair with the other and frankly, they can’t do a lot more than accept what he’s given(not that that’s a bad thing) and let out little weak whimpers.

At some point he has to breathe though, and Roman, the fiend, doesn’t look nearly as breathless as he feels, but that only bothers him vaguely and for a few moments before Roman says, “Can I kiss your neck?”

Virgil’s brain short circuits and before he can even decide he says a weak “Please”, and Roman dives in for his neck and suddenly, there are lips on his neck and he can’t think or say anything besides Roman and please, over and over and over again.

And then they hear the front door opening, and Patton’s voice, surprised but most definitely not displeased, says, “Well, isn’t this a pretty image.”

Virgil looks at the door, and Logan and Patton are standing there, Patton’s face red and Logan’s face shinier than he’s ever seen it, and Virgil is panting while they close the door and approach.

“So.” Logan starts. “I take it you two had a talk?”

“Yeah.” Roman says. “I told them about – we love them.”

“Well, that’s funny.” Patton says, placing his hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Because I seem to remember we agreed to tell them later. And all together.”

“Yeah, well, this wasn’t exactly planned.” Roman says, almost petulantly. “I just – I said something and had to fix it, so.”

Logan clears his throat before saying, “Well, Virgil, I can see you don’t oppose to having a relationship with Roman, but – “

“All of you. I love all of you.” Virgil interrupts.

Logan’s face goes impossibly softer, and he grabs Virgil’s face with both of his hands, and says, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“You – you should.” Virgil says, and he does.

Logan is different from Roman, softer and sweeter, almost like he’s afraid Virgil’s going to break, and Virgil lets themself get lost in the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his hands and how much they love him –

Logan eventually lets go of him, probably sensing Virgil needs to breath, but he doesn’t remove his hands from Virgil’s before leaving a long peck on their cheek.

Virgil puts his face on the crook of Roman’s neck to take some time to breath, which obviously makes Roman coo and play with his hair to calm him down. He also leaves a few kisses on top of Virgil’s head, which was not at all calming and comforting thank you very much.

When he’s finally breathing right again, he feels a hand on his shoulder, which makes him turn to Patton’s direction and oh, that smile should surely be illegal.

“Do I get anything, honey?” And Virgil is throwing himself at Patton, who simply pulls them to sit sideways on his own lap.

Patton kisses with more intensity than Logan, but he’s more controlled than Roman, almost as if he wants to be in charge of the kiss and make Virgil melt on his tongue and boy oh boy is Virgil okay with that.

He finally lets go, and Virgil tries to follow him with their mouth, but Patton simply grabs his face by the chin and looks into Virgil’s eyes like he’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“Your face is lilac. You’re so pretty.” He says, a little bit breathless, and Virgil has half a mind to start kissing all of them again.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Everything Joan Didion Promised

PART TWENTY-TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: a lil angsty, plentiful pop culture references, mentions of divorce/family issues

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: When Jess returns to Stars Hollow to retrieve his car, Ella tries to keep him from getting hypothermia. Later, they cross paths at the annual firelight festival.

Refilling the shakers, Ella nodded at Sheriff Cooper as he waltzed into the diner. The local law enforcement came in at all hours of the day for coffee and free donuts, though it wasn’t like they had boatloads to do in a town as sleepy as Stars Hollow. She didn’t bother to eavesdrop on the conversation until she was behind the counter again, putting the salt and pepper back where it belonged. Coop was sliding a slip of paper across to Luke, who stood by the register. Glancing over, she recognized the handwriting immediately. After all, it was all over her books.

“Is that Jess’s registration?” she asked, leaning in near Luke.

Luke sighed, casting a wary glance in her direction. “Yes.”

“They found his car? Jeez, it took them long enough,” she said off-handedly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Hey! It only took us a day, young lady,” Coop chimed in, face sullen below the bill of his leather hat. “Not too hard with a hunk of junk like that.”

Brows furrowed, Ella turned back to Luke and tilted her head at him in askance.

Groaning and rolling his eyes, Luke looked over at her again. “It was in my dad’s old garage. I went to check on it this morning and the lock was busted off.”

“You stole his car?” Ella crossed her arms over her chest, taking a step back and straightening up. When Luke didn’t respond, Ella scoffed and shook her head to herself.

“Look, Ella, if he didn’t have a car, maybe he wouldn’t keep going to Walmart,” Luke explained, his voice a grumble under his breath.

“Hm,” Ella hummed, nodding doubtfully.

He was about to continue when strong yellow lights began flashing through the window to the right. A sheriff’s car preceded a tow truck with Jess’s rusty Ambassador hooked onto the back. Coop said the car had broken down on the Expressway a couple hours earlier, and Jess had immediately been picked up. Luke instructed Ella to hold down the fort while he went out to deal with the situation, the precession parking right out in front of the diner.

And as she began closing up, cashing out the final customers and wiping down the counters, she couldn’t keep her distracted gaze off of the scene through the window. She couldn’t hear what Jess and Luke were shouting at each other, but she could gather it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. A knot of nerves sat in her stomach, watching from the corner of her eye. Luke eventually stomped back into the diner, and Ella saw Jess collapse into the back seat of his rust bucket across the street. She tried to ask Luke what had happened, but he shut her down instantly. The rest of the shift was spent in tense, anxious silence.

.   .   .

A bright half moon shone in the late February sky as Ella left the dark diner and locked up. She could see her breath in whitish clouds as she stalled in her path at the bottom of the concrete steps. Flexing her hands in the pockets of her peacoat, she bit the inside of her cheek and furrowed her brows. Either she could leave Jess where he was, curled up in the backseat of his death trap on wheels, and turn down the street to the little blue house, or go up and to him and face the music. Turning on the heel of her boot, she almost ignored him. Almost. Though she spoke to him every now and again over the phone, seeing him in person was a whole different matter. Just the sight of him made her heart twist in her chest. But then a huge gust of wind came, blowing her hair back and making frosty roses form on her freckled cheeks. Emitting an audible growl in the empty street, she shook her head to herself and marched to the car which held so many memories.

She knocked twice, hard, on the back window with frozen knuckles.

Jess’s figure shifted only slightly in the seat. “Go away,” he groaned.

Ella rolled her eyes. “It’s me, jackass!”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Jess finally sat up and cranked down his window. “What?”

“I almost forgot how much more charming you are in-person,” she quipped.

“G’night,” Jess shot back ruefully, making to roll his window back up.

Ella put her hand on the glass to stop him, sighing out another cloud of condensation. “Look, Luke is back with Nicole again-”

Jess scoffed.

“Yeah, I don’t know, either,” she muttered. “But he’s spending the night at their place in Litchfield, so I doubt you’ll be able to get up to the apartment without breaking in, and that’ll likely cause more problems than it solves-”

“Like I need Luke’s help,” he interjected petulantly.

“Just let me finish,” she snapped. “It’s gonna drop to like eight degrees out here, and neither of us wants you getting hypothermia, so just come stay with me for the night.”

Brows furrowing, Jess couldn’t hide the utter surprise which appeared on his face. The ice between them was slowly melting, sure, but he never figured she would be forgiving enough to offer something like that. “Very funny, Stevens. I’m tired, alright?”

“Jesus, Jess, I’m not joking!”

“What about your dad?” Jess asked, his voice flat, though his eyes were calculating.

She only shrugged. “Well, from what I remember, you have a talent for sneaking around my house. Your skills might be a little rusty, but I’m not gonna sweat it.”

Slowly, very slowly, Jess nodded and got out of the backseat, sheepish. His joints cracked as he straightened up again, stiff from two hours lying motionless in the cold. Appraising him, Ella couldn’t help but grimace. He had dark circles under his eyes, skin paler than usual. And the black beanie he wore certainly didn’t suit him.

“The prodigal son, indeed,” she said, eyebrows raised.

His mouth was set in a thin line, unamused. “Are we going, or not?”

.   .   .

Humming. Jess had almost forgotten about the humming. Most of the time, Ella didn’t even realize she was doing it. At the diner, over homework. Anytime she wasn’t acutely focused on something, her mind wandered back to whatever music was striking her fancy at the moment. Standing awkwardly, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Jess had yet to even unzip the leather jacket he was wearing or shed any layers. He’d never felt so uncomfortable in her room before, not even the first time he’d come, before they were dating, when he’d discovered how good she was at cards. He watched her rifling through the drawers of her old dresser, humming some Elliot Smith song he couldn’t quite place the title of.

She turned back to him with clothes in her hands, tossing them onto the mattress by which Jess stood before she started making for the door. “You get to wear the famous KISS t-shirt tonight, my friend.”

“C’mon, Elle-” he began, his voice a sigh.

“You should be honored, Jess. Besides, it’s the biggest t-shirt I have. And those sweatpants were Noah’s. Should fit you. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and change and stuff. Make yourself at home,” she said casually, as though there weren’t so many unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

He shook his head, looking down at his beat-up shoes. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Believe me, I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not freezing to death in your back seat,” she replied.

Turning and shutting the door softly behind her, Ella left before Jess could say anything else. Looking around, things were much the same, save for the walls. He remembered painting the white color on them, right before everything had gone to hell. He remembered waking up in the room so many times, rushing out before Luke would notice he was gone, planting a final kiss on her sleepy face before he went. He’d always woken up before her. Nervous that she may come back before he was finished, Jess stripped off his dirty clothes as quickly as he could, leaving them in a small pile near the window through which he had just climbed. He pulled on the sweatpants and hesitated a moment before tugging the shirt over his head. He’d seen her wearing it in the early light of the morning, or late at night when they sat up together, him reading and her drawing.

The corkboard over her desk was covered in new sketches, and he saw some in charcoal. He turned away, eyes meeting the purple mural behind the mattress. The sight of it made him smile. She was even more talented than when he had left, if it was possible. A soft creak sounded in the room, and he turned expecting to find Ella. Instead, a large, black cat with one eye missing and a curmudgeonly expression on its face came in, hopping up onto the bare surface of the desk and curling up into a ball. Quirking a brow, Jess stared at the cat, who Ella had told him was named Fleetwood. Shocking.

Ella snorted a laugh when she came back in, now dressed in a flannel shirt and some leggings, makeup washed off and hair loose down her back. “Hm. You’ve finally met the ghost which haunts the Stevens house. He got pissed because I opened the dryer.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, he’s great.”

“Sounds like it.”

Blowing out a long breath, she switched off her overhead light and approached the bed. The clock read almost midnight, and her eyes were achy with fatigue. Collapsing onto the mattress and burrowing under her blankets, she went to turn out the bedside lamp but hesitated when she saw Jess still standing rigidly at the end of the bed, debating whether to sleep on her old carpet.

“Jess, you can lay down if you want. Not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before,” she said, voice calm though her heart was beating against her ribs. “I mean, if you wanna sleep in the same bed...Woah, that was presumptuous of me. I’m sorry, I-”

Jess cut her off with a chuckle. “It’s fine, Stevens. I just...wanted to make sure.”

Nodding, she shut the lamp off and felt the mattress dip next to her as Jess got under the covers and laid on his side, facing the wall. She didn’t know how long they spent, backs to each other, in stale silence. It was strange, how similar it felt to so many other nights together. But so utterly different, too. His hair was longer, with less gel than ever. She wondered how else California had changed him, in ways she couldn’t see. Taking in a long breath, Ella squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before turning over to face his back and hoping she didn’t regret speaking.

“Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you know about your car? I mean...I didn’t even know about that. And Luke rants to me pretty much every day.”

There was another long silence before Jess heaved a huge sigh. Ella could see the outline of his shoulders move beneath the white fabric of the worn shirt in the dim light. As he flipped over on his side, they looked each other in the eyes for the first time in what felt like years.

“My mom told me about it.”

“Your mom?” Ella’s brow crinkled.

Jess breathed another sigh. “Yeah, I’ve been keepin’ in touch with her since I got back to New York. She came to see Luke at the diner this morning. Weren’t you there?”

“I don’t live there. I was in class.”

He scoffed. “Geek.”

“Whatever, jackass. You and your back pocket books,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So...you and your mom are…?”

“Well, we’re not gonna be doing any mother-son talent shows together any time soon, but at least she told me where my property was.”

Nodding, she hummed quietly in acknowledgement. “I really didn’t know he had the car, Jess. I would’ve said something.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Then, after a moment: “I don’t know. She and I...at least I don’t have to live with her and her endless string of suitors. She’s got a new one, y’know.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah, I don’t even remember what his name is. She might’ve told me, but, at this point, it’s a waste of time thinking they’ll stick around longer than a week,” Jess said. He chewed on his bottom lip.

“What about your dad?” she asked quietly, noticing how his gaze darted away from hers at the question. There was still some distance between them, but she could almost feel his breath on her face.

Jess took a moment before answering. “Well, he’s still out there in California and I’m here. That’s that.”

“Okay,” she said shortly, nodding again in understanding. Her eyes searched his face for anything more, but his expression was unreadable. “Did you like it out there, at least? Was it everything Joan Didion promised?”

He shifted slightly, hand going under the pillow on which his head rested, getting more comfortable. A hint of a smirk touched his lips. “Sort of. But, I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d hate it there,” he told her, a smug expression growing.

She chuckled breathily. “Why?”

“It’s hot as hell, first off. There’s sand everywhere. And I know how you feel about oceans,” he said, shooting a pointed glance her way. “And it’s just full of these hippies, babbling about astrology and fate and all that bullshit. I don’t think you’d be able to stomach it for a day.”

“Oh, and you were able to weather it so much better?” she teased.

He shrugged. “Well, I worked at the bookstore on the boardwalk for a few months. Only a few crazies to deal with every shift.”

“Hm. I could see it. You sulking behind the counter, reading, while some flower child begs you for some help.”

“Hey, I did a great job,” he argued.

“Yeah, using those famous Jess Mariano customer service skills,” she said doubtfully, then stifled a yawn against the back of her hand.

“Tired?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Not really,” she lied. “I just had an eight o’clock this morning. Should be against the law.”

“Ah, yes. The joys of higher education,” Jess said with a quiet laugh, watching as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

She snickered, her speech growing more raspy with fatigue by the word. “It’s okay. Kind of interesting. Pretty boring here without Rory, though.”

“She’s at Yale, right?”

Ella nodded. “Living her dreams. Winning everyone over with those baby blues...Sorry. I sound fucking pathetic.”

Biting down on his lip again, Jess looked at her for a long moment. He didn’t realize how much he had missed her until he got a glimpse of her. He got her voice every once in a while, but not her face. Not her mind.

A blush spread over her cheeks at his gaze, and she suddenly regretted her words. She wanted to roll her eyes at herself. It was so childish to be jealous of Rory, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. And when Jess was around, she always found herself forgetting to keep it all locked up, letting things slip out. It certainly didn’t help that she was totally exhausted.

“Eleanor,” Jess said earnestly. “You’re not pathetic, alright? You’re a badass artist. Lily Briscoe. And, for the record, you’ve got Bette Davis eyes.”

“Bette Davis’s eyes were blue, Jess,” she said doubtfully.

“I don’t mean the color. Just the look,” he said, shrugging at her correction.

Ella snorted a suspicious laugh. “How the hell do you know that song anyway?”

“Not important. And you’re not gonna distract me. Don’t doubt yourself, Stevens,” Jess said, and for a minute Ella found herself enclosed in a memory. In a New York port authority, preparing to board a bus, Jess with a new drawing of the Hudson in his pocket. “Own your narrative.”

She swallowed down the pleasant swell of her heart. “Well, if I’m owning mine, you’ve gotta own yours. Have you started that book yet, Kerouac?”

He gave a thin, mocking smile. “The travelling kinda got in the way.”

“Well, I’m sure it gave you lots of material,” she murmured, eyes finally fluttering shut.

It only took a few minutes for her breathing to even out, slow and steady. Jess turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, the water spot Ella always said was shaped like a Zeppelin. Raking a hand through his hair anxiously, he shut his eyes and tried to fall asleep. But the lavender smell was too familiar, almost too comforting, as was the woman next to him.

.   .   .

Standing by the register, Ella tried to bite back a smirk as Luke argued with his sister. Liz was rounding up ingredients from down in the diner to bring upstairs. Her new boyfriend, TJ, he was called, was up in the apartment attempting some sort of lunch. Ella would have called the cops on him trying to get up in the apartment had Liz not been there to identify him. She had heard stories about Liz over the years, from both Luke and Jess. And though she had gleaned enough information to assume the woman was bizarre, she hadn’t expected the new age, peace-loving, crystal earring-making vibe she had. Especially considering some of the things Ella knew she had done to Jess, not the least of which was shipping him off because her boyfriend got into a fist fight with him. And TJ? Ella could only imagine the angry shade of red Luke’s face would turn when TJ asked him to guess what his initials stood for.

Checking her watch, she sighed softly when she saw it was only two in the afternoon. There was a lull after the lunch rush, and she’d cleaned up as well as she could for the time being. So, she would be left stagnant behind the counter while Stars Hollow lives rushed around her. And, though Caesar was in the back, he rarely came out to speak with her. He was busy with prep, and the new headphones he’d just gotten, to listen to his music on full volume during slow times.

A scowling Luke turned back to Ella as Liz marched up the stairs, arms full of food, and broke her out of her pitiful reverie. Her eyes widened slightly at his furious look.

“You let him up there?” Luke demanded.

“She’s your sister! What was I supposed to do? Get Coop out here to arrest her fiancé?” she asked, gesturing with her hands in exasperation.

“I don’t know! Just...you could’ve waited until I got back!”

Ella shook her head. “How was I supposed to know when you’d be back? You didn’t say anything! Y’know, if you’d just get a cell phone for these kinds of things like I’ve been telling you-”

“You don’t have a cellphone!”

“I don’t own a diner.”

Luke put his hand up and let out a weary sigh. “Enough. Fine. Just...is there any chance you could stage a horrible accident in the next two minutes? We’d have to take a long drive to the hospital.”

“I don’t think that would solve the core problem, boss,” she said.

Nodding, Luke went to ascend the stairs to a certain doom. “You’re right, kid. You’re right,” he admitted gruffly. “You okay down here for a while? Sure you don’t need any help?”

She smirked. “Think I can manage for the time being.”

He shot her a final glance, narrowing his eyes. “This would all be so much easier if you were a bad employee.”

“Can’t always get what you want,” she quipped, then turned as a customer approached. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t take the earrings she tried to bribe me with.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest.”

Scoffing, she shook her head again as Luke disappeared behind the curtain. A smile formed on her face as she rang up the tourist family, and she even shot them a wave as they made their way out the door. Her breath caught in her throat, however, when she saw Jess’s head nearing the diner entrance through the front window. Immediately, she clutched at her necklace and bit the inside of her cheek. She’d awoken in the morning to find Jess gone, borrowed clothes folded and left on her desk. She’d taken pity on him. Swept up in the moment, in seeing him again, in seeing him shivering in the backseat of his car. But his side of the bed empty, without a word, brought a bad taste to her mouth. It was becoming familiar. She didn’t want it to become familiar. She didn’t want to admit how much his leaving had affected her, and maybe she didn’t truly feel it until she saw his face again. For just a moment, it felt easy and right. Like it had. Like home. But the morning was cruel and brought reality. She’d seen him pushing his car through town in the direction of Gypsy’s while she was on her way to work. His car would be fixed and he would be gone again. And she would be left behind.

Hoping to look busy, she took her notepad out of her apron, doodling mindlessly. The bell over the door jingled, and her heart sped up. Chewing on the eraser of her pencil, she made a pointed effort not to notice him right away.

Jess came up in front of her and tapped slightly on the counter. “Hey, Stevens.”

“Hi,” she replied, eyebrows raised. “You get your car to Gypsy’s? I saw the little parade this morning.”

Jess nodded and sighed softly. “Yeah. Not gonna be fixed until tonight.”

“Tragic,” she quipped flatly. “Are you gonna to go to the firelight festival to pass time, Mr. Model Citizen?”

“Is that what’s going on out there?” he asked with a frown, groaning dramatically.

“Same time every year, Mariano.”

“Just another Hallmark holiday,” he said.

Ella turned away, masking the twist of memory in her heart, to make a fresh pot of coffee. “Do you need something?”

Clearing his throat, Jess looked away from her and over to the checkered curtain. “Is Luke upstairs? I left a notebook I need up there.”

“A notebook?” she asked quizzically.

Jess ran a hand over his mouth. “Just got some things in it that I need.”

“Specific.”

“Aren’t I?”

She scoffed, then faced him again. “Well, Luke’s up there. Along with your mom and Prince Charming.”

“Fuck. You met him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And?” he asked expectantly.

She snorted a laugh. “I really think you have to see it to believe it.”

Blowing out a long, tired breath, Jess walked towards the stairs. He stopped short when he made it to the curtain, tilting his head back to her with a questioning look. Messy hair, hands on her hips, pencil behind her ear. A vision from his past, making his stomach fill with butterflies every time he saw her. But her hazel gaze didn’t quite meet his own, off somewhere he couldn’t reach. Biting down on his lip hard, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you okay, Eleanor?”

Nodding, she attempted a weak smile his way. “Always, Jess. Are you okay?”

“Yeah...yeah. I’m okay. Thank you...for last night.”

“You’re welcome.”

And then she heard his footfalls trudging up the creaky wooden stairs. Fiddling with her necklace, she swallowed down her thoughts and plastered on another grin as Lane bounced in, announcing she’d found the perfect house to rent with her band.

.   .   .

Other than old books and lavender, bonfire was one of Ella’s favorite smells. She had her ratty black peacoat draped around her small frame. Rory and Lane had convinced her to go to the festival, both of them with the night free. And she figured maybe some time away from her bedroom and the diner would clear her mind. Spaces which were so crowded with her memories. She would just have to wait until Jess was gone, and she would be connected with him only through the phone line again. She wouldn’t have to feel the way her heartbeat picked up every time she got near him, touched him. And the worst part was, the feeling wasn’t bad. She remembered it. She missed it. How relaxed he made her feel.

But, as soon as she’d spotted her father and Fiona walking hand-in-hand through the square, she’d retreated to the bench near the bookstore to draw. Rory and Lane tried to get her to join them for candied apples and popcorn, but she wasn’t hungry. And, besides, there were plans to meet up at the Gilmore house later for some movies anyway. She just needed a moment of quiet, to herself. Without being pulled in so many directions. Though her hands were shaking from the cold, she managed a sketch of Jess’s car, two ghosts in the front seat, all tires flat.

She saw his jacket before she saw his face, spotting the familiar black leather out of the corner of her eye as he sat down next to her. Neither of them said a word for a moment, the continuous buzz of town activity and the crackling of the bonfire filling their ears.

“I like it,” Jess said, looking over her shoulder at the drawing.

Ella blew a breath out her nose and stopped shading. Leaning back against the bench, she shot him a momentary glance before shifting her eyes out to town square. “You always say that.”

“And it’s always true.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she scoffed, shaking her head a little.

“I’m serious. Who wouldn’t love a drawing of their car which could inspire nightmares?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

Pursing her lips, Ella tore the page out of her sketchbook. She signed and dated it in the bottom corner and handed it over to him. “It’ll bring you more joy than it brings me, then.”

Taking the drawing, his teasing expression faded as he noticed the wistful quality to her eyes. The one he had seen earlier. “Thanks,” he muttered quietly.

“Though you weren’t coming to this?” she said, gesturing to the roaring fire in the middle of town.

“Me neither. Gypsy said she still needs about a half hour.” He glanced down at his watch for what felt like the millionth time in a day, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So, you’re actually gonna say goodbye this time?” she asked, finally looking over at him with earnest, eyebrows raised.

His gaze dropped to his shoes and he struggled for a moment to find words. But her eyes, looking at him in the light of the fire. They made him feel ways he couldn’t even articulate. “Look, Elle, I’m sorry. Luke freaked out on me when I told him about graduation-”

“Oh, yeah, and speaking of Luke,” she interrupted. “Did you get into a fight with him or something earlier? You stormed out and then he left like twenty minutes later. He was totally wasted. We had to close early for the festival and he still wasn’t back.”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth. “He was trying to make me say something to Liz about TJ. Get her to come to her senses. I tried to tell him it was useless, but he just wouldn’t hear me.”

She hummed in acknowledgement. “And you met TJ?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You think he’ll turn out like the others?” she asked, but there was less fire in her tone. There were so many words on the tip of her tongue, but she was tired. And her heart dropped into her stomach when she even thought of saying them.

Jess chuckled bitterly. “I know he will. He’ll take all her money, or drink all her booze, or...worse. And then it’ll be mine and Luke’s job to fix it. But, hey, where would we be without family?”

Ella smirked humorlessly at the thick sarcasm which laced his tone. “Yeah. Where?” Then, after a moment: “I think my dad and Fiona are gonna get a divorce.”

“Really?” he asked, but didn’t look surprised.

Though it wasn’t as if she felt shocked, either. “The whole new baby thing isn’t working out. I don’t know. I don’t think my dad cares either way, but that only makes her more angry. They scream and throw things at each other. The way he and my mom used to fight. And then Fiona apologizes and she tries to make him happy again. But it never makes any difference. He hasn’t been happy in years. Maybe never. But it’s not her fault. And I feel bad for her. But, right now, it just is.”

Jess nodded, listening. He noticed how she ran the key across the chain of her necklace, and a pang of nostalgia hit him.

“At least Adam likes high school. He’s already making waves in the science club, from what he tells me. Figures. And at least he gets along with my dad and Fiona way better than I ever have,” she said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively.

“At least,” Jess murmured sadly.

Ella managed a thin smile. “Makes sense. He doesn’t look exactly like her.”

Before Jess knew what he was doing, he took her free hand from where it clutched the metal of the bench and gave it a squeeze. For a moment, her cold hand was rigid and unmoving in his grasp. But, clearing her throat and looking down in surprise between them, she finally reciprocated. Gave his hand a squeeze back. Then, she flashed him another tiny smile, and disentangled her fingers. The moment had gone, and Ella hoped the chilly air would be able to cool the flush which rose on her cheeks at his touch. An awkward tension passed between the two of them, both at a loss for words. The town troubadour, strumming his old guitar near the entrance to the high school, suddenly caught Jess’s searching eye.

“This whole thing is meaningless and expensive,” he began, looking out over the many blue concession tents and the people with solo cups full of Founder’s Day punch, which tasted as close to gasoline as punch could. “But the music’s not completely terrible.”

Scoffing, Ella shook her head. “Too happy.”

A fond smile crossed over Jess’s face, the most genuine one she’d seen from him in quite a while. “Anyone ever tell you how unpredictable you are?”

“Shut up,” she replied, cracking a smile of her own.