#maybe i’m just mean but i always thought it was tall-ee-ah

[dncingthrghlife]

th-alia?!? TH-alia?!?

[moldisgoodforyou]

barcelona (ii)

wordcount: 2.3k

_______

Sophie introduced him to the whole group, then separately to her roommates all sitting together at the top of the table. “This is Isobel,” she nodded, “this is Andrea,” she waved, “and this is Juliet,” she smiled. 

Rafe nodded, smiling at the three of them. “Isabelle -” 

“Isobel.” She corrected. “Ee-so-belle.” 

“Ee-so-belle.” He repeated slowly, trying with the accent. “Sorry, I’ll remember that. And you’re Andrea, and you’re Juliet.” 

“Rafe, do you always show up late to places?” Isobel asked him with a stern look, nudging Sophie under the table. She tried her best to hold back a grin as he shook his head quickly, the tips of his ears turning red. “No, um, sorry, we got held up by the - the subway -” 

“The metro.” Sophie corrected calmly. 

“Yes! The metro. Sorry, uh, jetlag.” Rafe tried, looking nervous. 

“Uh huh.” She nodded, trying to seem unconvinced, and Andrea snorted into her mimosa, making all of them laugh. “Andrea!” 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it up!” 

Rafe glanced between the four girls, confused. “Keep what up?”

Sophie grinned, squeezing his leg under the table. “I told them they could grill you a little. Andrea just has no poker face.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we already know each other.” Juliet told him with a welcoming smile. 

The girls all nodded in agreement and Sophie beamed at their approval, letting them go on with stories about their antics as roommates, like when Juliet had set off the fire alarm while smoking - three times - and when Andrea brought a boy over and he turned out to be a total bust, so they girls had to make up an excuse to rescue her from the awkward situation. As Isobel reached across the table for the salt, Rafe noticed a small carnation tattooed just below the inside of her elbow, still a little red. “I like that, is it new?” 

“It is!” She nodded down the table. “Mateo just did some of them for us last week. Oh my god, Sophie, do you remember like a month ago -” 

Sophie shook her head quickly, sending her a pointed glare. “I don’t remember. Anything. Ever.” 

Andrea hid a giggle behind her napkin at the way Sophie’s cheeks went red, and Juliet smirked. “The initials R.C. don’t ring a bell?” 

“Stoooop.” She whined and Rafe caught on quickly, grinning. “Was that when she tried to get the tattoo on her hip?” 

“Yes!” Andrea exclaimed, laughing. “Oh my god, it was like five inches tall and looked like it’d been written by a primary schooler.” 

“You were determined.” Isobel grinned, poking Sophie in the side and put on a poorly done American accent to mimic her. “Nooo, guys, I hafta get it!” 

Juliet joined in, her American accent even worse. “I’ve only had four drinks, I’m fine! Like, sober!” 

“That was with Sebastian’s heavy pour, too.” Andrea added, laughing. “I think we got to know a little too much about you that night.” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sophie was bright red now and nudged her elbow into Rafe’s side when he went to ask another question. “I FaceTimed him that night, he saw how bad it was.” 

“I’m so glad you didn’t get it.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Besides, she already has the ring, it’s not like she needed that to ward any guys off.” Isobel pointed out nonchalantly and Sophie bit her lip, trying to be subtle as she hid her hand under the table and switched her ring from her ring finger back to her middle, something she’d forgotten to do in her haste to pick him up from the airport. 

Rafe noticed immediately, of course, but chose not to comment. “Maybe a temporary tattoo instead.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. When their waiter came back around to take everyone’s real food order instead of just adding to their sangria, most of the table ordered in Spanish with ease, including Sophie. 

 She looked to him to explain his order but he straightened up a little, clearing his throat. “Uh, hola! Yo comer los huevos con chorizo, por favor.” He gave the waiter a proud smile and Isobel had to hide a snort in her napkin at his horrible pronunciation and grammar - it was as butchered as possible. The waiter furrowed his brow a little and Sophie subtly pointed at his option on the menu. The waiter laughed, clapped Rafe on the shoulder and told him - in a nearly-perfect American accent - “Welcome to Spain, buddy.” 

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” Sophie held back a grin, not wanting to burst Rafe’s bubble. 

He beamed, taking it as a compliment. “I did a little studying over the summer.” 

“It wasn’t horrible!” Juliet chimed in with an encouraging smile, not noticing Rafe’s face drop. Sophie winced and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, we’ll practice. The idea’s there.” 

He kept his voice down, turning to her with a curious look. “You mean it? It wasn’t bad?” 

“No! Not really. I mean, some things could use some work, but you have like, the basic foundation -” 

“Sophie. No lying.” 

“I’ve never lied to you.” 

“Oh, bullshit - you’ve lied so many times -” 

“Pre-relationship does not count!” She exclaimed, grinning as she swatted him with her napkin. “We agreed. No bringing that up.” 

He grinned back, poking her side. “What, are you trying to hide our sordid past from your roommates?” 

She fixed him with a cross look, shaking her head. “Sordid hardly describes it. Just a few arguments here and there, that was all.” 

“Ah, you seem to have a selective memory.” He smirked and squeezed her knee under the table. “You hated me.” 

She frowned. “I never hated you. Just, maybe, didn’t like you sometimes.” 

“Understatement of the century.” He trailed his hand up her thigh and she pushed his hand away, giving him a warning look. “Rafe Cameron.” 

He just gave her a smile and moved his hand back to her knee until their food arrived. 

_____

Three packed days later of showing Rafe around, Sophie had to say a tearful goodbye to her roommates. It was hard for her to leave her newfound friends she’d grown so close to, but they promised they’d see her again - they’d all applied early for graduate programs scattered throughout the US, some starting as early as January. 

Somehow, after a lot of persuading over the summer, Sophie had convinced Rafe to rent a car and drive to Nice in France. It was a little over six hours of a drive and along the coastline, and he couldn’t say no to her after she’d sent multiple photos of the coast and fancy cars they could rent too. After loading everything into the car and carefully adjusting the short driver’s seat, Rafe grinned over at her. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes, but I have something for you.” She reached into the backseat and pulled a wrapped box out of her tote bag, practically buzzing with excitement. “I know your birthday won’t be until we’re in Rome, but I think you’d like this now. The rest of your gift is back in Ohio though.” 

He took the box, fixing her with a playfully stern look. “I thought I told you no presents? Just being here with you is enough.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t listen. Open it.”

He opened it curiously, then grinned when he saw the camcorder printed on the box. He’d mentioned earlier in the summer how he’d like to have something that wasn’t just his phone to document senior year, and then to be able to edit the footage together into little montages each month. Of course, she’d listened and found the perfect gift. “You remembered!” 

“It’s the right kind, I think, but double check for me?” She asked, urging him to open the box. “I did a lot of research making sure it was the right one.” 

He took the camera out and inspected it, nodding. “It’s perfect. I love it, Sophie, thank you.” He turned to her and smacked a kiss to her cheek, grinning when she turned her head and caught his lips with hers. 

“You’re welcome. I was going to wait, but figured you could take videos of our trip and everything.” She beamed. 

Rafe’s grin morphed into a smirk as he flipped the camera on, pointing it toward her. “Is the rest of the present that we’re making a sex tape?” 

She immediately rolled her eyes, huffing as she reached for the camera. “Okay. You just ruined the moment, good job.” 

He laughed, pushing her hand away and put it back in the box. “Thank you, for real. It’s awesome.” 

She took the box and put it back in the backseat, smiling. “Welcome. Happy early birthday, old man.” 

Rafe started up the car and flicked on the radio, handing Sophie his phone loaded up with their directions. “Twenty-two is hardly old.” 

“Ancient.” She laughed. “Alright, this says we’ll get there by two, so just in time to check in to the hostel and we can stop to eat halfway. Feel okay about driving? Because I can trade with you -”

“Absolutely not. And, uh, about the hostel.” He kept his eyes on the road as he drove. 

“I thought I sent you all the information, you said you’d book it -”

“No, no, not that, I have everything covered. Just.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel. 

“Just?” She cocked her head curiously.

“I may have gone a different route for accommodation in Nice.” 

“Rafe. I said I’d pay for my things.” 

He didn’t need to glance over at her to feel her slow-building annoyance, but did anyways. “I know! I know. I was just thinking, we’re going to the beach and we’ll be all sandy and whatever afterward, it might be nice to have a real hotel and our own bathroom. Just for there, I booked the hostels for Italy.” 

“Just for there.” She repeated, skeptical.

He nodded to confirm. “We’ve just  been so busy with everyone - which I totally understand - but I thought it’d be nice to have it be just us for a few days.” 

She considered it for a moment - he did make a great point. “I can transfer money from my savings to cover my half.” 

“No.” 

“Rafe.” 

“I’m serious, Sophie, no. The hostels, fine, but not for Nice.” He declared. He’d chosen a boutique hotel instead of a big expensive chain hotel in hopes that would hide how much he spent, so she didn’t question it.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I really don’t want to fight over this, baby, but I told you -” 

“So don’t fight. I’ve got it.” He reached over and rested his hand on her knee and squeezed it reassuringly. “Ward gave me extra money.” 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ward gave you extra money to spend on your trip with me? I’m supposed to believe that? I don’t think he even knows my name still.” 

“Well.” He paused, nodding. “Not exactly for the trip, he just put double in my account for my birthday month. I think he feels a little guilty, last year he forgot.” Rafe tried to force a laugh, but it came out more pained than he wanted. 

She frowned and reached over to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “He forgot your birthday? Seriously?” 

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, happens. Anyways, um. I’m not letting you pay for it.” 

She could tell he was growing uncomfortable talking more about Ward and nodded. “Okay. Fine, but just this once.” She gave him a small smirk. “You think the walls are thin?” 

“I think the building is structurally sound, baby.” He gave her a confused glance. 

She laughed, shaking her head. “That is so not what I meant.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Think harder.” 

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then shook his head. “I give up.” 

“We only had sex once since we’ve been back together.” 

“What does that have to do with thin walls - ohhhh. Right. You know, sometimes I forget how dirty you are, I appreciate the reminder.” He grinned and she tugged on the ends of his hair, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off, you are too.” 

“Think we could pull over when we make it to France and have a quickie on the side of the road?” 

She raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “Do you speak enough French to get us out of trouble if we get caught and arrested?” 

“Minor details.” Rafe laughed, nudging his head back into her hand a little so she’d start playing with his hair again. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” She responded, scratching his head lightly. 

“I love you. So damn much.” 

Sophie beamed and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, fool. I’m glad you’re here.” 

He grinned widely. “Yeah? Me too. I really hated being away from you.” 

She frowned, just a little. “At least you had your internship to distract you though, right?” 

“I was too damn nervous about Brooklyn doing something to fuck us up half the time.” He confessed. “I’m really sorry she kissed me, I should have known -”

“Quit.” She cut him off firmly. “I don’t want to hear a single thing about her on this trip, and I especially don’t want to hear apologies for that. Not your fault.” 

He bit this inside of his cheek, sparing a glance over at her. “You mean it?” 

“Of course I mean it. I’m glad you’re willing to tell me, but it’s over with. Quit stressing.” 

“I wasn’t stressing -”

“You’re too easy to read, baby.” She flicked the back of his neck and he yelped, laughing. “I am not.” 

“You absolutely are, you wear your heart on your sleeve and I love you for that.” Sophie grinned. “No more talking about her.” 

“Jealous.” He quipped, smiling over at her. 

“Damn straight.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

[potatotrash0]

Hey idk if youve done this alreadh but im curious about your body headcanons for the sdr2 cast!! An anon sent some in for characters previously (the one where they said things like angie has vitiligo and stuff-i love them and they really stuck with me haha) and i wanna know your headcanons!! :D

Hmhmm this one I might be listing off the spot lmao. I feel like my hcs are mostly just. Common hcs but hey I never said I wasn’t basic skdjksjdks

cw for. Everyone. Yeah kdjfksjdks

Hajime…..I like to think he’s slightly buff? Maybe that’s not the right word. Toned? Idk, I hc that he jumps around hobbies a lot because he wants to find something he’s good at, so that includes sports. I like the idea that a few stick with him, like swimming and basketball. I imagine he also has light scrapes and scars on his legs from falling, both with skateboarding and general Clumsy Shit.

Also this one switches a lot but with Trans Hajime, I can see him with top surgery scars.

Oh ah, I like freckled Hajime!! It’s cute. This one goes with the sports hc, but I like the idea that he’s kinda tanned. Entirely unrelated but I also like the idea that he has calluses from playing guitar.

Chiakiii!! She’s soft bc I said so. Specifically her thighs, arms and stomach + some stretch marks. And moles all over. Projecting big time onto a cute fictional girl, call that self care <333 /j

uhh other than that, I imagine she has bags under her eyes from staying up late gaming. Also tan Chiaki my love. Shh I know she probably doesn’t go outside for days on end. In my defense I tan easily and I imagine she does too. Again with the projection. Shhhh

Oh oh!!!! I forgot to mention but!!!! Chiaki gets a ton of moles. I saw the boob mole and went !!!!!! fellow mole haver!!!!!! and went nuts. This is the one weird niche entirely irrelevant thing that can get me to like a character, just. Being able to point at them and jump up and down with joy over them also having moles. Idk why it’s just therapeutic <33

Nagito’s bony. Skinny mf. Could probably cut cheese with his elbows. Maybe grate it on his collarbones. Cuddling with him would be a fight to see if you can find a position that doesn’t end with something poking you in the gut. I mean this affectionately, he’s bony as shit but he’s my bony fucker <3

Pale asf, sunburns if he’s in the sun for more than two minutes. His eye bags could hold the entirety of his life’s trauma. Sharpest features ever. Sometimes I hc that he looks greasy, and other times I hc that he looks ethereally pretty in a ghostly way. Either way he always looks like he’s had the soul sucked out of him by a Dementor.

You can probably definitely see the veins in his hands. They’re. Very There. Also I’ve brought this up before but he definitely has big ass hands. L a r g e hands, all the better to head pat you with. This was originally so much more pining but I decided no I’ve exposed myself enough on this blog skfjksjdkd

Oh last minute thing, I think he’d be tall as fuck. Specifically 6’0 or taller. Also he probably (definitely) has at least a few scars from his childhood, particularly that plane crash. And I like to think he has glasses when he’s older. I’m so sorry that his section is so long I have so many thoughts about him ;;;;;

Okay uhh Imposter? Mmm. Idk actually. I do think they’d have callused fingers but soft hands. Probably from having to adapt to using a ton of different talents for their Imposter Agenda. Also stretch marks probably, all over their body.

Teruteru uhhhhh. God. Can you tell I don’t think about some characters ;;;;; Idk I don’t have much that differs from canon. I like him. Oh but he probably has cook hands? Chef hands, whatever you wanna call them. Probably faint scars from cuts and burns from when he was still learning how to cook from his mama.

Mahiru……hmm well freckles obviously dkjfksjd. I think she’s tanned as well since I feel like she likes sunlit shots. Idk I don’t have much. I like to think she’s got a stockier body type though.

Also not necessarily her body but I like her with an undercut!

Peko’s buff <3 it’s canon <333 /j

N ee way yeah. Buff Peko my love. Also she probably has a few scars from handling her sword when she was younger and less experienced. I also feel like she would have contacts she wears when she trains bc fuck exercising with glasses

I don’t really have anything for Hiyoko until she gets her growth spurt. Afterwards, I imagine she’s tall and kinda thin? Mainly bc of fast metabolism probably, though when she’s older maybe she’d be a little less spindly.

I don’t know if her hair would be bleached or not, but if it were, I like the idea of her letting her actual hair color grow in. If not, I think Ibuki might help her try a few sections of dyed hair? Idk I just like the thought

Ibuki is a fellow bony bitch. I mean this lovingly. She’s skin and bone. Skeleton rocker lady

Probably tan, I imagine she spends a lot of time in the sun. She strikes me as a summer person. Oh, I also saw some art of Black Ibuki with vitiligo and loved that!! Also calluses from shredding guitar, obviously

Hmmm I like the idea that she rollerskates? So possibly some bruises or scars on her arms or legs from falling on concrete when she was still learning. Oh oh I imagine she has a ton of piercings!!! On her ears, nose, lips, brows, tongue, belly button…….maybe she has a split tongue too idk. Also she totally gets a ton of tattoos when she’s outta Hope’s Peak, prove me wrong.

Mikan uhhh. I like tall Mikan. She deserves the height. 5’8 to 6’0 Mikan good 👍

Hmm she probably has scars all over, particularly on her arms and legs. Uh. Idk I imagine she’s curvy probably. What do I say for her I don’t have anything skjdksjdks

I’m not even gonna lie I don’t have a damn thing for Nekomaru. Or. Wait nevermind here’s a concept: buff Nekomaru but like. If you’ve seen those wrestlers who have fat on them that hides some fucking crazy strength? Yeah that’s him. Also hairy asf.

Gundham……tall vampire vibes. I’d say he’s a stick but also I feel like he’s the slim type of muscular. Idk how to describe it. Shigaraki type muscle? Male gymnast. No nevermind those guys have visible muscle. Shigaraki type it is

Hmmm I think this is canon but probably a few scratches from his pets. His arms and legs mainly but I’m sure the Devas have scratched up his neck at some point or another. Just a little though. Also piercing fiend Gundham my beloved. I also like him having a couple tattoos when he’s older. Ibuki probably helped him heheh

I’m torn between Fuyuhiko being skinny as shit and Fuyuhiko being tiny and buff. I like both………hhh

His hair is probably bleached. Peko probably helps him re-dye it when his roots start growing in. I also like him having glasses

Uhhh tooth gap Fuyu’s cute. I used to have a super small one before I got my braces, I imagine it’s the same for him. Him, Ibuki, and Gundham are probably Tattoo Buds.

Kazuichi…..I want so bad to say he’s a weakling just to make fun of him but he’s a mechanic that probably works with heavy machine parts a lot and he probably has some sick biceps. But he probably also smells like hair dye, oil, metal, and Monster Energy. Win lose situation I guess.

I like to think he has a couple piercings? Not as many as Ibuki, but maybe he’s got like. Second or third place in the class. Also he totally filed his teeth to be sharp like that

Akane!! Buff lady, could probably deadlift me or something. She’s definitely got some scars from running around, especially when she was first learning parkour. Ummm oh, I like to think she has a chipped tooth or smth like that from falling roughly as a kid.

Soniaa <33 in my heart she will always be tall and have at least some muscle. Novoselic is a war country if I remember correctly, she’s definitely got some military training in her.

Idk why but her with heterochromia just popped into my head. That pretty greenish blue gray that she has + maybe brown or hazel? I think that’d be cool. And hip dips.

[friggsdc]

Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

 A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~ 

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

             “You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off. 

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough. 

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

-

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing. 

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it. 

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

-

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

-

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

-

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

-

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

[alarawriting]

52 Project #38: All We Wanna Do Is Eat Your Brains

Like “No Lullaby” at number 19 and “The Lake” at number 20, this is a songfic. Unlike those, the song itself -- Jonathan Coulton’s “Re: Your Brains” -- is comedic, so this is a comedy wrapped up in the skin of a horror story. Trigger warning for zombies, but no speaking characters get killed by zombies in this story.

-----

The fifth floor of the six-story Peaceful Pines Towne Centre shopping mall was entirely occupied by the business offices of the real estate company that owned and managed it, and many other similar shopping malls.

It was divided into two halves, the west side and the east side, with elevators in the center, and locked, heavy wooden doors between the two sides. At one point both of those doors had been unlocked. On the west side, there had been attractive, frosted glass doors leading to the reception area; those had been smashed. On the east side, there were security doors painted the same color as the wall. Those were locked, but could normally be opened with company badges. The system that allowed the badge locks to work had been unplugged, and the badge lock itself had been disconnected from the inside.

Once upon a time, the salespeople and the financial analysts and the C suite had all had offices or cubicles on the west side, and the IT people, engineers, and facilities management had all had offices or cubicles on the east side. HR had been on the west side, but right near the doors; all the people from that department were all on the east side now.

The bathrooms were in the hallway; the break room was on the west side, with the coffee machine, refrigerator and water cooler. On the east side there was nothing to support human life except air, the water cooler replacement jugs, and several packages of granola bars that one of the engineers had stashed in her desk.

The security cameras still worked, so it was quite possible to see, if you were looking at the monitor screens, a disheveled, pudgy man with short, straight dirty-blond hair, wearing a suit, with skin that was normally the pinkish-beige of a white guy but was now kind of grayish and also yellowish, standing in front of the security doors. “That you, Tom?” he said cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah?” The man on the east side of the security doors was tall and skinny, with black hair in a ponytail. He was also white, but had the kind of skin color which could maybe mean Greek, Southern Italian, Northern Middle East, or something like that, except that it hadn’t seen much sun in months, maybe years. It also had a bit of a sallow cast to it, but nowhere near as strong as the man on the other side of the doors.

“Hey there! It’s Bob, from down the hall. Good to see you, buddy! How’ve you been?”

“Uh… okay, I guess? Overall? Today hasn’t been great though…”

“Oh, I feel ya, buddy, I feel ya. Things were going okay for me, too, but now I’m a zombie!” Bob chuckled. “Isn’t it funny, the curveballs life throws you?”

“Uh, yeah. Funny. Hey, if you’re a zombie how come you can talk?”

On the monitors, they could see Zombie Bob shrug. “I’m no egghead. I’ll let the scientists figure that one out. But we’re not all dumb just because we’re zombies, you know.  I’ve been the head of Strategic Marketing for two years now… oh, but I guess you know that!” Bob laughed. “I know, I know, we’re coworkers! I don’t have to explain my position to you.”

“Sounds like maybe a touch of memory loss, there, Bob,” Tom said.

“Nah, nah, I’ve just been meeting with so many new people today! This zombie thing, it’s really underrated. I know I was practically pissing my pants when I realized I’d been bitten, but now that I’m a zombie? Oh, I know I look kind of unhealthy, but actually I feel great! No pain, and I’m never gonna have to worry about dieting again! Yeah, I’m gonna miss French fries, but to be honest I was considering doing keto, and this is kind of like extreme keto, right?”

“But zombies eat people. Right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course we do. Mostly brains, those are the best part. Hey, listen, Tom? Could you do me a solid here?”

“Uh… what do you want?”

“Ah, it’s not a big deal. I just need you to open up these doors so me and my new colleagues can come inside and eat your brains.”

Tom took several seconds to process this request. Finally he said, “Why, exactly, do you think we’d be willing to do that?”

“Hey, I know. It’s a big step, right? You just get a little bite, then you turn into a zombie and you live forever, long as you can keep eating, but we’re gonna be eating your brains, so you’re not gonna be turning into zombies. I can see why you’d be reluctant to do that.”

“Okay, so why did you ask?”

“Well, here’s the deal, Tom. You’re all gonna die screaming. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not this minute, but by the end of the day, it’s happening. So why put it off? Why put yourselves through the agony of anticipation? Just, you know, rip the bandaid off and get it over with.”

“Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.”

“Come on, I don’t think it’s unreasonable. All we wanna do is eat your brains. It’s not like anyone’s talking about eating your eyes here!” Bob laughed again. On the monitor, the elevator opened, and two more zombies came out. They began to scratch mindlessly at the security doors. “Hey, hey there, folks, we’re not getting through these bad boys unless they let us in. Save your fingernails and teeth for a softer target, okay?”

The zombies actually seemed to listen to him. They stepped back and stood quietly.

“I’m not sure you’ve fully thought this through, buddy,” Bob said in a genially condescending tone. “Don’t mean to nitpick here, but this isn’t much of a plan. I know you’ve got a few guns in there, and maybe you’ve got the extra water cooler jugs and the refills for the vending machine? But really, how long’s that gonna last? You haven’t even got a bathroom in there. Bet it’s getting pretty stinky.”

“We’ve got some supply closets over here , and some buckets. We’re getting by.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you can open a window and let some air in, or dump your buckets! Those windows in there, they don’t open. I know! I kept sending memos to facilities, asking if I could get a window that opened, and it was always, no, none of the windows open, they’re not designed that way! Guess they didn’t want any of C-suite to be able to jump if commercial real estate tanked again.” Bob laughed.

Tom stepped away from the door for a moment, speaking quietly and urgently to Nishant, who was waiting for an update. “They don’t know about the windows,” he whispered to Nishant, who grinned briefly, and then ran back toward the IT manager’s office. It was Tom’s office, but it was on this side, with his department, rather than on the other side where all the other managers’ offices were.

He returned to the door to talk to Bob. “We’ll get by,” he said.

“Whoo-ee. Only thing I can smell anymore is tasty meat, but I tell you, I don’t envy you. Hey, why don’t we compromise? You open up the doors so you can dump your buckets, and then we all come inside and eat your brains.”

“That isn’t much of a compromise, Bob.”

“Sure, Tom, but have you thought through your alternatives? I mean, what’re you gonna do, spend the rest of your lives locked up in half the fifth floor of the shopping mall? Good enough for now, I suppose, and maybe you’ll get used to the stink, but sooner or later you’re gonna run out of food and ammo. Guess you’re gonna have to make a tough call then, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tom said.

“No, I don’t envy you at all. The way I see it, your options are, die of starvation, wait for us to break down the doors and eat your brains, or let us in, and at least the third option’s pretty quick.” He laughed again. “Though I’m gonna be honest here, Tom, I’m gonna eat you nice and slow.”

Tom sighed. “I have to say, Bob, I’m a tolerant guy but I’m really leery of this lifestyle choice of yours. I mean, eating brains? Have you ever considered not eating brains?”

“Well, I’ve considered it, but frankly they’re so goddamn tasty, who wouldn’t? I mean, if you guys manage to hold us off long enough, maybe it’ll come to the point where you have to eat each other, and then you’ll be eating your own brains. It’d be better to just get it out of the way quick, don’t you think?”

“I think we’ll manage.”

“I don’t think you’ve really thought things through, though. But that doesn’t really surprise me. You were always a detail-focused guy, never had much of a head for the big picture. Always trying to solve the problem of today, even if it causes problems tomorrow. But me, the big picture is what I do.”

Tom had heard this particular spiel before. “So what’s the big picture, then?” he asked, as behind him Ekaterina tapped him on the shoulder.

“The big picture here is that you’re gonna be dead one way or another. The whole human race is gonna go, Tom. And by the way, I don’t appreciate your comment about my ‘lifestyle.’ I’d be reporting you to HR, but I’m pretty sure all of HR is on your side of the doors.”

“Who’s on your side?”

Bob laughed. “Oh, wait, I got it! You’re mad at the comment I made about gay lifestyles a month ago! That was supposed to be a zinger, right?” He chuckled again. “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I don’t care about any of that stuff anymore. You remember Kevin, right? The graphic designer?”

Kevin had been 23 and engaged to a boyfriend who was a guitarist in a band. “I remember him.”

“Well, now he’s one of us, and that’s all any of us care about. Gay, straight, white, black, it doesn’t matter once you’re a zombie. We’re all united together.”

“When you say ‘us’. Who’ve you got?”

“Well, right off the bat we got Horace. You would never imagine how delicious he was. You’d think all that fat on his gut would be a problem, but I’m here to tell you, he was exquisitely marbled.”

Horace had been the CEO. Tom shuddered, as he removed his pants and shirt, stripping down to his underwear. “I meant, who’s a zombie?”

“Well, honestly, most of the folks over here, we ate them. I got bit on my lunch hour, and after I turned, I led a bunch of folks from the mall up here. They’re good people, though, Tom. Really focused and dedicated. Hard workers.”

“Working hard at eating people.” Tom handed his clothes to Ekaterina, and she ran them back tto his office.

“Hey, it’s hard work to catch you guys. It’d be a lot easier if you’d just let us in.”

“Okay, break it down for me, Bob. What’s our ROI on letting you in? Where’s the win-win?”

“Sure thing! Now you’re speaking my language, Tom. I think it’s really great that you’re willing to work with me on this.” In the monitor, Bob smirked. “So here’s  the deal. We’re all really hungry and we really want to eat your brains.  You’re stuck in half a corporate office with nothing to eat and nowhere to go the bathroom. And no toilet paper! Man, that's gotta be rough. So what I’m suggesting is, you let us in, we eat your brains, you don’t have to live through any more of this bullcrap, and you don’t have to watch your families and loved ones get eaten. What do you say?”

Tom swallowed. The laser printed message in 48 pt font, on the paper Nishant was holding up, said “15 FT SHORT.”

“I can see you’ve got some good points there, Bob. But we actually don’t want to get eaten, so I think we’re gonna stick it out for now.”

“I sympathize with that, Tom. And I appreciate how you’re listening and considering my proposal. I’d really like to help you out, any way I can. What if I offer fast mercy killing? We don’t start eating you until you’re already dead, and we bludgeon you to death fast, no biting and tearing. How’s that?”

“Give me a minute to run that past some of my people,” Tom said, and walked over to Nishant. In an urgent whisper, he said, “You can’t find any more cloth?”

Nishant, who was naked except for Western-style underpants, shook his head. “The bras and underpants for everyone here wouldn’t get us the rest of the way, either,” he said. “It’d be different if we didn’t have to support Jason’s weight=”

“No one gets left behind, Nish.”

“I know, but that’s why we’ve had to make what amounts to five ropes in parallel instead of just one, because Jason’s arms are not strong enough to support 400 pounds.”

“Okay, and is anyone proposing a solution?”

“Xi said we should toss down cardboard boxes, but they won’t take his weight either.”

Tom sighed. “I can probably stall Bob for another five, ten minutes tops. You’re engineers. Figure it out or we’re dead.” A 15 foot drop wouldn’t kill most adult humans, but it might well render a lot of them unable to run afterwards, and in a zombie apocalypse, that’d essentially mean death. “Have we got confirmation on the helicopter?”

“They say it’s on its way,” Nishant whispered, shrugging.

“Okay. I’ll tie him up as long as I can.” Tom returned to the door. “Sorry, that’s a non starter. I’ve got a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Bob said approvingly. “Hit me.”

“What if, and I’m spitballing here, you let half of us go, and you just eat the brains of half of us?”

On the monitor,  Bob shook his head. “That’s not going to work for us,  I’m afraid.”

“What about a quarter?”

“It’s logistics, Tom. There’s no way you get out of here except the stairs and the elevator, and they’re both overrun with zombies. I can’t control all the zombies in this mall, just my own people.  You’re not getting to the bottom uneaten, and frankly, if someone’s going to eat you anyway, it should be me and my fellows. You can see my position on that, can’t you, Tom?”

“You could turn half of us into zombies, and eat the brains of the other half,” Tom suggested.

“No, afraid that’s not doable either,” Bob said.

“Mind filling me in on the decision process there?”

“No problem,” Bob said cheerfully. “We’re really hungry.”

“Huh. Well, I guess I can respect that, but that doesn’t get us past the hurdle that we don’t want to get eaten.  You have any suggestions?”

“Sure, I can compromise a bit. I want to work this out with you, Tom. I’m not a monster.” He paused. “Wait. Technically,  I guess I am. Huh. A horror movie monster.” On the monitor,  he shrugged. “It doesn’t feel too different from normal!”

“I doubt most monsters think of themselves as monsters,” Tom pointed out.

“Hey, good point, good point.” Bob looked at his wrist, which did not have a watch on it. “Look, it seems like we’re at an impasse for the moment. I’ve got another meeting, so maybe we could wrap this up?”

“Well, we haven’t worked out a deal yet…”

Nishant came back. This time the 48 pt font on the paper he was holding up said “ROOF. JASON’S UP. REST OF US GOING.”

Tom nodded to acknowledge the message. He didn’t really want to know how his mostly nerdy and unathletic coworkers could have climbed to the roof in the first place, but it was only one story overhead, unlike the ground five stories below, so it was a good plan. He turned back to the door. “But if you have a meeting, I guess there’s no help for it.”

“Yeah, we’d better table this for now, sorry. We’ll come back to this. I know we can get to common ground, somehow. Just gotta work it out,” Bob said. “I need to report in to my colleagues who’re chewing on the doors. Real dedicated folks.”

“Sure, and I need to report to the engineers with the guns that that’s what they’re doing.”

“Hey, I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out! I know we’re all busy as hell, and time is the one thing we can’t get more of, right? Especially for you guys.”

“Not a problem,  and I'm grateful for all the advice.”

“I’m glad you take constructive criticism well, “ Bob said, the genial condescension back. “Not everyone does. We’ll swing around to give another go at working things out later, and we’ll put this thing to bed when I bash your head open, all right?”

“Sure, if you don’t get a skull full of lead first.”

Bob laughed. “Man, Tom, you’re a funny guy! You should’ve done stand-up. See you later!”

As soon as he was gone, Tom ran for his office.

Bob seemed to have normal human intelligence  despite being a zombie. As soon as Tom had realized that, he’d known he’d have to keep Bob distracted so the zombie couldn’t hear any of the sounds within, especially the sound of breaking glass. He was right that the windows weren’t designed to open… but that wasn’t much of a barrier for a dozen desperate engineers.(Well. Technically nine desperate engineers and IT personnel, and three desperate people from HR.)

It was a good thing Bob himself wasn’t an engineer,  or he might have figured out what Tom had known, in a cold pit in his stomach,  the whole time.

The security doors were nearly impenetrable. But the walls they were attached to were just standard drywall. And they didn’t even go all the way to the real ceiling – just to the drop ceiling where the wires were. So any zombie who knew that could climb up into the ceiling and then jump down. If zombies could keep their human intelligence, then it was just luck that only one of the engineers had been down at the food court earlier today when the zombies attacked, and he’d moved fast enough to escape.

The window in his office was shattered. There had been a heavy hammer in the facilities closet, and Alexey had managed to grab two guns and ammo from the Bass Pro store in the mall before coming up the freight elevator and getting in through the delivery door – which was, thankfully, on the east side.  The glass on the fifth floor was thick, but between the hammer and a well-placed bullet, it had broken enough that they’d been able to smash the rest of it out.

Dangling just outside the window, where he could easily grab it and pull it inside, there was a cradle made of four ropes, where the ropes had been made by tying together scissored strips of everyone’s clothes. Tom stepped into the cradle, using the loops that had been tied onto the ropes to secure his wrists, and the straps on the bottom of the cradle to secure his legs. “Okay! I’m ready!” he yelled upward, and tugged on the cords.

His team pulled him up to the roof, with Nishant, Alexey, Xi and Timothy pulling on the ropes, and Jason sitting on the roof with the ends of the ropes tied behind him. Jason’s heart condition wouldn’t allow him to pull the ropes, but he could use his body as ballast to make sure none of the team fell. His face was pasty white, like there was no blood in his body, and he was breathing hard and sweating, but since Jason usually looked like that after any kind of minor exertion -- his heart was barely managing to do its job -- Tom wasn’t afraid he had turned.

Pete was holding one of Alexey’s two rifles. Ekaterina was unraveling the fifth rope and tying pieces of it around people’s waists and women’s chests, so they could have a tiny bit of modesty back.

“How did you guys manage to get to the roof?” Tom asked as he untied his straps and stepped out of the rope cradle.

“It was Ashley, actually,” Nishant said.

Ashley from HR was a petite woman, but in nothing but her bra and underpants, she was more muscular than Tom would have guessed. “ I do parkour and mountain climbing,” she said. “I’m not saying getting up here was fun, but you know, when the alternative is getting your brains eaten…”

In the distance he could see helicopters. “I know we contacted them already,” he said, “but let’s wave them down. Just to make sure.”

“We’ve got plenty of cloth to make flags,” Ekaterina said.

Tom wondered what Bob would think, when he and his zombies got the door open and found that they’d all gone through the window. The ropes had been pulled up, so he doubted that Bob’s first guess would be the roof… but Pete and Alexey were on guard with the guns, just in case.

Indrani, one of the programmers, leaned over the edge to see where they had come from. “Uh-oh,” she said. “They’ve found the window… looks like one of them is climbing out on the ledge.”

Alexey walked to the edge, cocked the rifle, and pointed downward. He fired. “Not anymore.”

They could all see the zombie fall. The shot hadn’t killed it – it was a chest shot, and they could see it flailing – but when it landed, a puddle of red appeared beneath it, including under its head, and it no longer moved.

“How much ammo have we got?” Tom asked.

“Enough to kill about 300 zombies, if every shot is perfect,” Alexey said.

“Which it’s not gonna be,” Pete added, somewhat unnecessarily. His brown hands were clenched so tightly on his rifle, the knuckles had turned white. “I’m… not the world’s best shot. I go to the range sometimes, get in a little bit of practice, but mostly I suck.”

“You’re probably better than most of us, though,” Tom said.

“I knew I should have gotten a shotgun,” Alexey complained. “At close range the rifle is almost useless.”

“You were under time pressure,” Ekaterina said. “If I’d been in the food court when a zombie turned and started biting people, I don’t think I would have been able to think clearly enough to go to the end of the mall and get a gun from the Bass Pro. Let alone two, and ammunition.”

“I think I see Bob down there,” Indrani said. “He’s… what is he doing?”

“Don’t fall off the side!” Timothy went to his knees rapidly, ready to grab Indrani’s ankles.

“I won’t. What are they doing?”

Rachel from HR peered off the side from a different vantage point on the left of the broken window. “They’re forming a human chain. Well, a zombie chain. One’s climbing on top of another and they’re holding onto each other.”

“That’s not good,” Pete said. “Alexey, you need help there?”

“No, stay covering the door to the roof.” It was chained and padlocked shut and the door was a metal security door, but who knew what would happen if enough zombies banged into it. Alexey took aim, and shot the bottom zombie of what was now a three-zombie human ladder, and all three fell. One managed to grab a ledge; the other two fell to the ground. One stopped moving; the other crawled feebly, her arms and legs obviously broken.

Tom looked up at the helicopter coming toward them. It had a rescue basket, large enough to fit all twelve of them. Twelve. The company had been thirty-three people this morning. He thought maybe one of the sales guys had been out in the field on a call, and the regular receptionist had been out sick, so… thirty-one people in the office had turned into twelve survivors. Plus some that had become zombies, like Bob.

A phone rang. Everyone looked at Donatella, the third of the refugees from HR. She was as underdressed as the rest of them, but she had a purse on her, made of a crunchy plasticky recycled material that no one had thought would hold up to the stress of being part of their escape ropes. The phone was ringing from inside it.

Donatella withdrew the phone, her hand shaking, and answered it. “Rose and Weldon Company, this is Donatella Antonucci, can I help you?” She listened for a moment. “Why don’t I put you on speaker?” And looked up at Tom. “It’s for you, do you want it on speaker?”

“Is it Bob?”

Donatella nodded. Tom rolled his eyes. “Fine. Put him on.”

“Hey there, Tommy boy! You there? It’s me, Bob, again.”

“Yes, Bob, I’m here,” Tom sighed. “No, we’re not going to let you in to eat our brains.”

“Yeah, I can see that you’re on the roof,” Bob said. “Who’s that with the gun? That Russian dude? Ilya or something?”

“His name’s Alexey, and yes.”

“He’s good,” Bob said approvingly. “But listen, Tom, it’s not too late to open up the door on the roof and let us in. We’re in the stairwell.”

“Then who’s trying to form human chains down there?”

“The correct word is ‘zombie,’ Tom, not ‘human’. Please don’t misattribute our species.”

“Okay, fine, who—”

“That’s Barry from Sales. You remember Barry, right? Always bragging about his workouts and his gym routines and the times on his runs? Well, turns out he wasn’t all hot air. I thought he got away from us – he sprinted off when we almost had him, and he was too fast for any of us to follow. But then an hour later he came back and joined us, because one of us had landed a bite and turned him. Isn’t that cool?”

“It’s really not as cool as—”

“I sure think it’s cool.”

“Bob, I’m a busy man, please get to the point.”

“Sure, Tom. I know your time is valuable, I don’t want to waste it. It’s just that you should know, Barry’s a talker, like me, so he has our colleagues doing the zombie ladder thing there, and I’ve taken us up to the roof, and I’m pretty sure we’re gonna manage to knock this door down sooner or later.” There was a “thump” from the chained, padlocked roof door. “So I’m just offering it up as an option here, you might want to consider just letting us come outside and eat your brains.”

The helicopter was getting larger, but the closer it got, it seemed the slower it was coming. “I imagine you could do that,” Tom said. “How many zombies you got in there?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“No real reason,” Tom said. “Just, we’ve got a pretty defensible position here and a lot of ammo.”

“That’s good to hear. Makes it challenging. A good workout before dinner always makes the meal tastier, isn’t that what they say?”

“Actually they say you shouldn’t eat until half an hour after working out…”

“Pretty sure that’s a myth, Tom. But you could Google it on Donnie’s phone. I know you don’t have one of your own, I found it ringing in your office when I tried to call you.”

“So what’d you do, wardial numbers until you hit one that rang?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I probably should have thought of one of the HR ladies first, since I know they got over to your side before you closed the doors. By the way, Bart? In sales? You know, the guy who didn’t make it to the door before you shut and locked it? Dee-lish. Appreciate you leaving him for us.”

“Bob, have I ever told you what an asshole you are?”

“That’s really not professional language, Tom.”

“I know, but I’m standing here in my underpants and you want to eat my brains, so I’m not feeling very professional. I have a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I think you guys should strongly consider the merits of eating shit and then dying. Especially you. After fucking off so long and so far there’s no longer any off to fuck. And also going to hell, straight to hell, without passing Go or collecting 200 dollars.”

Bob laughed. “Man, you’re funny, Tom! I’m gonna miss these little chats after I crack that skull of yours like a steamed mussel shell and scoop out the brainy goodness inside.”

Another “thump” from the stairwell. Alexey shot another zombie chain, sending three more of them falling. “This is fun,” Alexey said. “Tell Bob I’m looking forward to blowing his head off. I want to see if he still has red blood or if it’s turned green like some of these guys.”

“I heard that fine,” Bob said. “Is that Alexey? I’ve always liked Russian food.”

“Were you this big of a clueless narcissist when you were alive, or is this just a zombie thing?” Tom asked.

“Oh, come on, Tom, I thought we had a rapport. I thought we were making some progress, working on this thing together.”

“Bob, when you and I worked together on identifying cities whose legislature might be open to letting us build a new Towne Centre shopping mall in their town, we had a rapport and we made progress. You really wanting to eat our brains is just not our problem and I don’t feel obligated to help you with that.”

“Yeah, what do you guys even do for the company?” Bob snarked. “We’re not an IT company, we don’t write programs. We develop and sell commercial real estate. All we ever needed was one dude to hook up our PCs to the Internet. We didn’t even need servers, we could have kept it all in the cloud.”

“We did keep it all in the cloud, Bob. We haven’t had servers in about five years.”

“So what did your department even do? How did you justify your salaries?”

“Among other things, your database marketing plans wouldn’t have gone very far if we hadn’t been maintaining the database… but that isn’t even the point.” The thumps and the sounds of the shots had grown more frequent, and the chain, somewhat rusty, was actually rattling hard. It was entirely possible that if Bob and his zombies just kept throwing themselves at the door, it would break open.

Again, not the engineers’ solution. But Bob, and Barry for that matter, seemed to have retained their normal human intelligence… not gained any intelligence. Bob hadn’t thought of makeshift explosives yet. Or shoving a long heavy-duty file into the crack and filing away at the chain. Or anything else that might work.

“I can’t hear you very well, Tom, what’s going on out there? Sounds like you’re standing right next to the air conditioner, or a generator?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bob, maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom lied as the helicopter, finally above them, lowered its rescue basket. It was hard to hear Bob through the “whup-whup-whup” of the helicopter blades, but Tom made the effort to talk normally, rather than shout into the phone as instinct told him to do.

“What?”

“I said maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom said, as rescuers directed Jason to sit in the exact center of the basket, and then had the rest of them spread out by estimated weight, to balance the load.

“What? I can’t hear you at all, Tom, what’s going on?”

Very loudly, because now he was in the basket and standing right under the helicopter and its whups, Tom yelled, “What’s going on, Bob, is fuck you!”

He hung up on the zombie and handed Donatella back her phone as the helicopter climbed, pulling the rescue basket into the air. “Block him.”

There was another human chain of zombies forming, now that Alexey was no longer in a good position to shoot them down. Tom, on the edge of the basket facing the building, stuck his middle finger up and leaned out as far over the edge of the basket as he dared, making the gesture at Barry and his zombie ladder as broadly and visibly as he could.

[mangobilorian]

hide ‘n seek | (gen)

Pairing: Toddler! Ahsoka & Plo Koon

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2952 

Summary: “No more questions! Wanna play with Mastha Plo.” She beat tiny fists into his chest. When he had first found her, she had been too shy to even speak. It took her a while to even hold his hand. But now she was pounding her little fists in indignation at a High Council member.

Or: Plo talks to Ahsoka about boundaries, and Mace wonders about the danger level of toddler Togrutas.

As soon as Plo Koon leaves the High Council chamber, he sees a group of younglings anxiously standing. He pays them no mind. After all, they were probably waiting for a glimpse of their favorite Council member. Maybe it’s part of a lesson about the High Council even though there is no teacher present. Whatever the reason is, he does not expect the younglings to ignore Mace or Agen or even Yoda. No, they zeroed in on him .

“M-master Plo?” A young Twi'lek asks, staring up at him. The Nautolan next to her nudges her aside.

“Sorry to disturb you, Master Plo, but we need your help.” The group of five children fidget under his gaze.

“Is that so? Tell me, younglings, why do you need my help?” At this point, the other Council members had stopped, eyeing the spectacle. Mace raised his eyebrow at Plo before heading off to either intimidate Knights or drink tea. Shaak had smiled at the children, but they didn’t even look at her.

“One of our crèche mates keeps asking for you.” The boy says.

“And she cries all the time and won’t stop.” The Twi'lek butts in.

“We tell her she can play with us, but she doesn’t wanna,” a Human girl says. Plo can tell that they have sincere sympathy for their crèche mate, but they’re also on the breaking point of exhaustion, which is understandable. Not being able to console a friend is stressful enough. Having to live with said inconsolable friend is another matter. Plo already has an idea of who the crying girl is…

“Who is this girl, younglings?” The children glance at each other and peer up at him.

“Ahsoka Tano,” they say in unison. Ah. The small Togruta girl Plo had brought to the temple two months prior. She is the youngest in her crèche—her speaking abilities weren’t as mature as everyone else’s yet—and Plo had wondered if she was settling in. It seems like he got his answer.

“Where is she now?”

“The Room of a Thousand Fountains,” the Nautolan says. “We said that you would meet her there.” The Wookie next to him growls in confirmation.

“Will you be able to help her, Master Plo? We just wanna play with Ahsoka without her crying for you….” The children look up at him, hope shining in their eyes. Or was it sleeplessness?

“I will try my best, little ones.” Plo tries to convey a smile, but the anti-ox mask (and his lack of lips) prevents him. Plo is used to kids shying away from him. After all, he was tall, masked, and taloned. Yet, out of concern for their friend, the children sought him out. Plo reaches out to the Force and- yes, there it is. Nervousness and worry but no fear from the younglings. “Hurry along now. Don’t cause any trouble.” He means it half-heartedly. Plo always enjoys it when the little ones start something chaotic. It’s a welcome break from his job on the High Council.

He’s met with a chorus of “Yes, Master Plo,” and the children scurry off. Plo sighs as he watches them and starts the trek to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Despite it being the first time a group of younglings waited for him outside the Council chamber, it wasn’t the first time a youngling did. He chuckles at a memory from a few weeks ago.

Plo had exited the chamber alongside his friends and fellow members. He was brought into a discussion about Wookie architecture—a topic that didn’t particularly interest him, but he wanted to show respect for Master Tyvokka even though it had been years since his death—when something small collided with his legs.

Startled, he looked down to see the tops of white and blue montrals. Shaak, who stood beside him, crouched down to her fellow Togruta’s eye level.

“What are you doing here, child? Shouldn’t you be in your lessons?” The young girl looked at the older Togruta then buried her head further into Plo’s legs. She mumbled something that sounded like his name.

“Master Ti, Master Koon.” The two Council members turned to see a Temple Guard. They gestured at the little girl. “We told her to wait and return to the crѐche, but she started crying for Master Koon.” Shaak stood up.

“Well, Plo, since you’re the one she wants, I’ll be leaving.” She gently rubbed the girl’s shoulder and nodded at Plo before departing.

“Thank you, guards. But I don’t think we’ll be needing your help for now.” The Kel Dor reached down to the little girl and hoisted her in his arms. “Why are you here, Ahsoka?” She averted her eyes, content to play with the folds of his robes. The girl didn’t respond, but Plo was patient. He walked down the hallways, taking the long route to the crѐche.

“Wanna to see you,” Ahsoka mumbled.

“And why, Little ‘Soka, did you want to see me?” She scrunched her face in frustration.

“Missed you.” She kept playing with his robes.

“Why did you-”

“No more questions! Wanna play with Mastha Plo.” She beat tiny fists into his chest. When he had first found her, she had been too shy to even speak. It took her a while to even hold his hand. But now she was pounding her little fists in indignation at a High Council member. Plo sighed with mirth.

“What would you like to play, child?” She bit her lip for a second then her eyes lit up with an idea.

“Tag!” She wigged out of his grasp and ran in the opposite direction of the crèche. Oh Force. Ahsoka giggled down the hallway, and spared one glance behind her to see Plo still standing. She stopped then proceeded to stomp her feet with all the anger of a miffed toddler. So Plo did the only thing he could do. He chased after her.

He had the memory catalogued in both Cutest Ahsoka Moments and Devilish Ahsoka Moments . However, his arrival at the Room of a Thousand Fountains forces him to leave the memory. As he wanders deeper into the room, he reaches out for Ahsoka’s force signature. There, shining like an excitable bubble of energy, sits his Little ‘Soka. Plo follows the beacon, letting the Force flow through him.

Just as he’s about to speak, the Togruta spots him and jumps from her seat on a bench.

“Mastha Plo! They were right,” she grins, showing all her teeth. It reminds Plo of a baby shark—not because Ahsoka looks like one. Rather, she is equally predatory.

“Yes, your crèche mates said you were here. I need to talk to you about something important, Ahsoka.” She peers up at him, and Plo has enough strength to resist swooning.

“Was I bad? I’m sorry, Mastha Plo,” she bows her head in genuine sadness, and Plo’s heart squeezes at the display.

“No, you did nothing wrong, child. But we do need to talk about boundaries.” He sits next to her, and Ahsoka seizes the opportunity to settle into his lap. Such an opportunistic little toddler. Maybe this memory would be filed under Ahsoka Not Respecting Personal Space .

“What are boun-dar-ees?” She asks, spelling out each syllable in the hopes to impress him.

“They’re like limits. Rules.” Ahsoka scowls.

“I don’t like rules,” she huffs. Plo laughs, stroking one of her lekkus. The girl purrs, and Plo stores that tidbit of information in a separate folder containing interesting facts about his little foundling.

“I know, Ahsoka. But there are some you need to follow.” She tries to retort, but Plo places a taloned finger on her lip. “If ‘Mastha Plo’ tells you to follow the rules, would you do it?” She nods eagerly. Plo has the feeling that Ahsoka would do anything for the Kel Dor, and the thought is troubling. If she grows too attached to him, that defeats the whole purpose of taking her away from her family in the first place. “Tell me, Little ‘Soka, do you play with your crèche mates?” The question seems to bother her because she curls tighter into his chest.

“No….”

“Why is that?”

“Because I wanna play with you.” Hmm… the girl is already too attached.

“Ahsoka, you need to play with your friends rather than seek me out.”

“Why?” She’s genuinely confused, and Plo considers how he’ll break the rules down for her.

“Because they’re your family now.” Her eyes shoot up to his goggles.

“Family? But you’re family.” He continues to stroke her lek soothingly.

“That’s right. You play with me because I’m family. So you should play with your friends because they’re family too. The Temple is one big family, Little ‘Soka.” She lights up in realization.

“So I can play with Mastha Ti and Mastha Yoda and Mastha Windu?” Plo has to stop himself from choking. He can easily see you with Shaak, and Yoda teaches all the younglings, so you’d be comfortable around him. But the visual of his little Togruta climbing the robes of esteemed champion Mace Windu is… both horrifying and hysterical. Maybe one day, if Plo is in the mood for mischief, he’d unleash the adorable terror that is Ahsoka Tano on the purple-lightsaber-wielding Master.

“You’d have to ask them first if they want to play. And,” he thinks back to previous encounters, “you can’t skip your lessons to see me. If you miss out on learning, I would be sad which means-”

“No playtime,” she finishes off, frowning.

“Yes, no playtime. So, little one, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ahsoka shakes her head.

“No class. Now is Mastha Plo time.” The Kel Dor sighs. He could indulge the Togruta in this one instance—as if he hasn’t given in to her charms a million times before—and engage in a game.

“Well then, how does hide and seek sound?” Plo is met with Ahsoka’s blank face. He starts explaining the concept of the game, and the girl catches on quickly. At the end of his explanation, she’s already out of his arms and bouncing on her feet.

“Why don’t you hide first, Little ‘Soka, and I’ll find you?” She nods and dashes away before he can start counting. He places his hands over his goggles—no one could tell when he closes his eyes, but the girl would surely say he’s cheating unless he covered them.

Plo counts to twenty before uncovering his eyes and looks around. All he can see are the fountains and greenery. No sign of his troublesome youngling. He debates using the Force to find her quickly—there are important duties to finish—but he wants to find her on his own. And because the little girl is a Togruta, she’d sense Plo before he could sense her. Plo has to be fast and, more importantly, smart.

He peeks behind a bush then a bench then a fountain. Yet there is no Ahsoka. He sighs loudly—loud enough for other Jedi in the room to look over at the Kel Dor Master. Plo places his hands on his hips.

“I wonder where my Little ‘Soka is. She is very good at hiding.” He exaggerates a hum, placing a finger on the bottom of his mask where his chin would be if he had one. Plo doesn’t lose hope and continues his search for the elusive hunter. Of course, her little giggles absolutely did not give away her proximity to him.

The Kel Dor peeks under a bench, twisting his body to get a good look. With no sign of Ahsoka, he is inclined to give up. Then, out of nowhere, someone launches themselves on his back. Tumbling forward, both Kel Dor and Togruta fall to the floor in laughter.

Jocasta Nu, visiting the Room for a meditation break, shushes Plo with a finger. “Please be quiet and respect the ones meditating, Master Koon.” Plo rolls over so Ahsoka sits on his belly. The Jedi Master raises a hand in acknowledgement.

“We will try our best, Master Nu,” he says before picking Ahsoka up and plopping her down on the bench next to him.

“You’re very good at hiding, Little ‘Soka.” She giggles and pokes his cheek.

“Now is Mastha Plo’s turn to hide!”

“I don’t think-” Plo starts, but the girl is already pushing at his chest.

“Go, go!” She insists.

“Fine. But stay quiet, alright? There are people meditating.” Ahsoka nods, but Plo can tell she does it to hurry the game not out of respect for the other Jedi. Plo stands up and takes the girl’s hands in his much larger ones. “Close your eyes and don’t cheat. No Force powers either.” Ahsoka pouts but obliges him.

Sparing one more glance at the girl, Plo walks away to find a suitable hiding spot. As a tall Kel Dor, there isn’t much in the room that could hide him. Maybe the plants? His orange skin would stick out though. Plo eyes a large plant and considers hiding behind it. But it seems like twenty seconds are up because he hears little hums.

“Going to find Mastha Plo,” Ahsoka sings from far away. She keeps repeating the saying in a jaunty tune. Plo settles down behind the plant, making sure to have part of his face exposed. Just as he moves around to adjust in his seated position, Ahsoka enters his periphery. Her montrals must have registered his movement.

He watches the girl scrutinize her surroundings, ducking below benches and around fountains. It’s cute. Too cute. She even assumes a hunting stance, arms outstretched, head darting back and forth. Her eyes pass over his hiding spot, and Plo holds his breath, but she seems to have missed him. Or so he thinks.

The next moment, Ahsoka leaps at him through the bush. A repeat of their previous entangling occurs, and Ahsoka sits on his stomach once again.

“Found you!” She whispers at a volume too loud for whispering.

“Yes you did. I am very proud of you.” Ahsoka beams down at him, raising her arms in a stretch.

“One more… one more round?” She yawns, eyes already closing.

“How about you take a nap instead?” Ahsoka gives a tiny nod and lays across his whole torso. She closes her eyes and snuggles deeper into his robes.

Plo knows he should get up before she truly sleeps. He has responsibilities, and increased interaction with Ahsoka will only worsen her attachment to him. Favoring his presence over other council members is one thing, but crying out for him, skipping lessons, or even foregoing playtime with her friends is another matter entirely. But the little Togruta doesn’t give up. Even if he does try to sever her attachment, it would only end in her mistrust of the Jedi. She would also cry a lot more, and Plo wants to spare the ears of everyone in the crѐche.

He settles for rubbing gentle circles on her back with one hand and stroking her lekku with another. Plo is careful to not scratch her with his nails—he keeps them sharp for a reason. After a few minutes, he hears little snores. Plo basks in the moment and organizes it under Ahsoka’s Sleepy Times .

The room is warm and pleasant, and Plo starts to succumb to the dreamy energy as well. It’s a far cry from his own chambers (the lack of oxygen there is a big difference), but the calm atmosphere is just enough to push him to sleep. Until the Force presence of Mace Windu wanders into the room and heads straight for him.

“Mace.”

“Plo.” The man stares at Plo and the little girl on his chest. “This is why you haven’t submitted the reports of your last mission?” Plo throws a hand out in mock defeat.

“Would you be able to resist an adorable youngling?”

Mace scowls. “Yes. I definitely could. Now get your Kel Dor ass up and finish those reports.”

“Don’t make me release Ahsoka on you.”

“Me? What could she do to me ?” Mace scoffs, slightly offended at the idea of the youngling being ‘released’ on him.

“She said she would love to play with ‘Mastha Windu’ because you’re her family.”

“Now who told her that?”

“Me.” Plo says with as much cheekiness as he can. Mace sighs.

“Fine. You can submit your reports later. But please return the youngling to the crѐche or else they’ll send temple guards to look for her.” The image of the masked guards running around in search of a troublesome Togruta makes Plo laugh.

“I will return her now, Mace. And I’ll get those reports done.” Mace raises an eyebrow. “Later.” Plo wraps an arm around the girl and uses the other to stand up. Together, Plo and Mace exit the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Plo dutifully carries the sleeping Ahsoka in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Younglings, Knights, and Masters alike gawk at the sight in the hallways. The great Kel Dor Jedi Master with a sleeping toddler Togruta. Who would have thought?

He eventually reaches the crѐche, and places Ahsoka in her bed. The Twi'lek from before watches him and mouths a silent “Thank you.” As Plo releases her, Ahsoka starts to mumble something. It sounds a lot like his name and the word ‘family’.

The time to end the girl’s attachment to Plo will come eventually. But that time is not today. Plo needs to consider his growing paternal feelings for the little girl as well.

“Sleep tight, Little ‘Soka,” he says. Plo exits the crѐche with Mace at his side, but not before sparing one last glance at his foundling.

[notanerrandboy]

Smiling out loud - Chapter 4

Chapter title: Moments in time (slightly inspired by their verses in Re:Japan’s “Ashita ga arusa” 🎶)

Summary: Hamada gets a shock, Cocorico shares an umbrella, Matsumoto gets hit pretty hard, Downtown talks about everything and nothing.

Characters: Matsumoto, Hamada, Endô, Tanaka

Character count: 295 + 307 + 376 + 238

Disclaimer: I’m only doing this for fun!

(Crossposted on AO3)

~~~

1. Hamada gets a shock

“Hello!”

The two girls at the table looked up on the intruder, YOU letting out a big sigh. 

Dokuro-san again. 

“It’s been a while, huh? Ryoko-chan, you up for something fun this weekend?”

“Cut it out, Dokuro-san, you’re way too intense!” Ryoko giggled at the bickering couple and turned her attention back to the tv.

“They are here, Dokuro-san.” YOU said darkly but Dokuro-san just laughed. 

“And still you say I’m the intense one? But alright!” And he started molesting her, making her scream for help.

The door to the closet opened. “Akarenjai!” In the kitchen, behind the sofa, inside a locker-

“Kiirenjai!” “Aorenjai!” “Momorenjai!”

And through the window… Hamada gulped.

“Midorenjai!” 

“What on earth are you doing??” Hamada looked at the five “rangers” and snorted. “Are you supposed to be my enemies? We agreed last week to not joke around anymore!” He kicked the two women out from the room and put a finger to Imada’s chest. “Who are you?”

“Akarenjai!” 

“Akarenjai definitely doesn’t look like this!” Some giggles were heard and Hamada turned towards the most strangely clothed out of the five. Matsumoto smiled under his fringe, green dress covering his thin body and two braids and a tray keeping his hands busy. Truth to be told, Hamada had seen his partner try this costume out a couple of weeks ago, but never had he thought that it might appear on Gottsu ee Kanji… But it did, and now he had to close his eyes to remain in character. It was difficult, since he was just so cute, but no way he could say that out loud..!

“You’re the worst one here!” And Matsumoto laughed, winking as he offered him his tray. 

~~~

2. Cocorico shares an umbrella

“Nao-chan!”

Endô called out into the light drizzle, but his best friend was nowhere to be found. Did he leave already? He was supposed to wait here so we could share his umbrella! But when Endô looked inside he found that it was still in the stand, folded and dry. He took it and went outside.

The school was pretty much empty now. Endô had forgotten a book and had asked for Tanaka to wait while he got it. What in the world had made him go outside - without his umbrella? No-one was at the playground, so Endô had to take a wild guess. The grass made his shoes wet, but he was too preoccupied looking for his tall friend to notice it.

“Nao-chan? Nao-chan~”

There! Two big leaves stuck out a bit ahead of him, one in each of Tanaka’s hands as he squatted on the ground. It kept his head from getting wet, his head and also… Endô got closer. Something crossed the road? It was..!

He started smiling. Of course! Tanaka always did care about the animals around here, including the row of ducks that walked before him. The little ones made lots of noise, and their mom answered them from a bit ahead. Endô held the umbrella out so that it protected them both from the increasing rainfall, and Tanaka looked up and started blushing at the warm look Endô was giving him. 

“I’m sorry, En-chan…” he mumbled, but Endô shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Now that there was no need for them Tanaka let the leaves fall to the ground and stood up, and together the two boys  looked at the baby ducklings finding their way to the lake and their mom, swimming away in the rain.

~~~

3. Matsumoto gets hit quite hard

It was a lovely day - the sun was shining, the birds were singing and the wind was cool - for everyone except Matsumoto Hitoshi. That soothing wind threatened to make the stack of paper he held in his arms fall over at any second, resulting in his mood getting worse and worse.

“Living as a comedian sure isn’t easy,” he muttered to himself. “All the paperwork, it never ends, and - no you don’t!” He got hold of a paper that was about to fly away and he stopped in his tracks as the scent of newly mowed grass reached his nostrils.

He noticed that he was standing by a big baseball field, where a couple of young men were playing around. Matsumoto sighed longingly at the sight. It definitely would be nice to enjoy this beautiful summer day by playing baseball…

Someone let out a shout and a sharp whacking sound was heard. The man throwing the ball was now running quickly, catching it and tagging his fellow player. He laughed loudly as he received the wooden bat, and Matsumoto felt a smile tug at his lips. With him on my team we would have scored quite a lot of points… He thought about the bets he did with his partner Hamada on Gaki no Tsukai, but was interrupted abruptly.

The ball was headed straight towards him - the man had missed! - and to protect himself he had to let go of the stack of papers. It hit him square in the chest and he staggered a bit.

“I’m sorry!” The man with the bat was by his side in seconds and supported him. “I’m so sorry, I don’t usually miss like that… are you okay?” 

Matsumoto rubbed his chest, smiling a little.  “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt that much. I’m sure you would have thrown it harder…” The man looked embarrassed and started to collect papers.

“Ah, well, maybe… But are you sure you’re okay, Matsumoto-san?” Matsumoto gave him a surprised look, but only received a smile and a finger pointing to the top paper where his name was written. 

Matsumoto returned the smile. “Sure..?” The man rushed back to the field, calling over his shoulder.

“Endô!”

~~~

4. Downtown talks about everything and nothing

Matsumoto sipped on his drink. Then he rubbed the back of his head in awkwardness - what was he supposed to do now?

Today he had been courageous enough to invite his partner out to drink at a good bar nearby. Hamada had reluctantly accepted, and now they were here. Sitting next to each other. Close, but still it felt like there was a wall between them, and it made Matsumoto quite frustrated. Now that I’m finally alone with him I can’t say a single word… How pathetic.

He noticed Hamada giving him weird looks. Was he unsure? Scared? Angry? He watched him wet his lips with his drink and fiddling with it as he put it down again. 

To others, they sure must look ridiculous…

Then Hamada sighed loudly, turning towards Matsumoto.

“Matsumoto-“

“Hamada-“

They both became silent, daring each other to talk first.

“Hamada, you know I, uh… I mean, I just want you to know…”

“No, Matsumoto, you don’t have to say anything…”

“But, the reason I brought you here was…”

“Ah, yes, this is quite nice, huh?”

They stared at each other, cheeks slightly red - both from the alcohol and from embarrassment - and despite saying this much they hadn’t actually said anything at all… Everything got quiet and they started drinking again. Cursing themselves for being cowards. Promising that they would speak their mind one day.

One day, you’ll understand…

~~~

[emmelfish]

Folks, we made it here. It’s NUPTIALS time.

And Dina Caliente bogarts the alcohol before the ceremony’s even begun.

Dina: I’m just – I’m happy for you Brandi, really I am, but Mort-Mort hasn’t called since he got his leg over and I fear I may never fulfill my Marry a Rich Sim want. I just feel so vulnerable right now.

Dina: But yeah you make maternity marriage gowns look super classy and you look beautiful, and Darren – pink becomes you, so... happy wedding guys!

Dina: Let’s all get wasted! Not you obvs Brandi.

Le sigh, still a snooze, even with booze. Hopefully the party score will pick up!

Yep, Brandi’s best boys are all wearing pink, even though she’s not got a hint of her fave color on her wedding attire. Hey John Burb! Better not have been poking any more holes in your Durexes or switching out Jen’s birth control for Altoids. Hiya Dusty, how’s college?

Dustin: I’m still Undeclared since you all threw me in that dilapidated dorm and exited the game.

Undeclared! Great TV show. Uh, we’ll get to it, we just need to change your LTW to Top of the Criminal career because I want you to be a babyfaced mobster, and then you can take the Mathematics.

Dustin: Yay, numbers. That’s almost as fun as wearing a pastel suit.

YOU’LL THANK ME!

Hubba hubba, Tara Kat scrubs up well and has switched out her regular day hat to her fancy one! Thanks girl. Could you have a word with Dirk about changing out of his urine-soaked, blood-stained scrubs for this pivotal moment in his family life? Normally he doesn’t do a single thing to piss me off.

Dirk I swear to god if you don’t change into your powder pink suit I’m gonna make you watch your dad and stepmom making out on a freaking loop.

DIRK!

Holy heck Brandi is freaking huge.

Ah sheesh finally, he Superman’d it at the last minute.

John, there’s telling the bride she looks beautiful as everybody should, and then there’s full-on Jon-Voigt-in-Anaconda leering. STAHP IT.

John: Ah like ’em maaaarried, ah like ’em preeeegnant...

Feminists everywhere, please kick this man hard in the danglebits so he can make NO MORE BABIES.

Vows!

Brandi: From the first moment I saw you...

Brandi: ...it was around five seconds until we boned and made twins.

Darren: It was indeed.

Dustin: That’s... that’s it?

Beautiful, wonderful, round of applause everyone.

Presenting Mr and Mrs Dreamer! It’s a shame about the automagic surname change, I’d much sooner a double-barreling (for both spouses, the way they do in France!), but alas, The Sims 2 hails from a far less woke era. Maybe I’ll get round to fixing that if I ever make the effort to fire up SimPE.

What the... the hell time you call this, Beau Broke?

Beau: Fashionably late.

Dustin: Why in Watcher’s name do I gotta look like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and young Neil Patrick fucking Harris over there rocks up in a tiny tasteful tux?

Because it’s hilarious, that’s why. And also, those fun suits you and Dirk are wearing didn’t come in child size.

Good lord, who rattled Dina’s cage?

Dina: I just remembered about Jessica, A Baddie, breaking into our house.

Oh for crying out loud Dina get over it, it’s been like an entire season since then and you get mad about this one thing every three minutes.

Staring in disbelief is Tara Kat’s default mode, and it suits her little face swimmingly. To think she was once on Darren’s list of Maybes to Marry, before I gayed her up with SPOILERS! Haha, not yet pretties.

Dirk, it’s their wedding, can you not give them a PDA free pass this one time?

Dustin: Yeeeeah, adulting, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. C’mere you long, tall... curvy... bubbly... yeah, sexy champers.

Had some wine coolers before the bus ride over from SSU did we, Dusty?

Beau what on earth’s wrong? You look distressed and yet your angry thought bubble is vacant. Are the tails on Dirk’s suit offending you?

Beau: Yeeeeessss!

Of course Angry Brandi Art Face had to put in an appearance at her wedding. Or perhaps the furrowed brows are because of the somewhat generous portion of prosec her dear son is pouring himself.

I love how all the toasts are literally only about Brandi, but she chooses to represent her new husband by doing him a heartfart.

Dirk: Hey so Dustin, our girlfriends are related... we’re officially family... do you think that means we’ll get married?

Dustin: Dude, are you high?

Dirk: I’m just... very confused about my life.

No Beau, you don’t get any sadly. I promise you that a nice rosé cava will be your drink of choice when it’s your turn to go to university.

Hey, the party score is up! Don’t stop me now, I’m havin’ such a Good Time, I’m havin’ a ball...

Tara: Brandi, your bewbs are so big that your cleavage can prop up my champagne glass!

John: That’s hot.

Yay, look how happy everyone is! Wow, I simply can’t think of anything that would ruin this perfect moment (obvious foreshadowing is obvious), it’s just what you’d want from a Sims 2 wedding.

Guests are chatting away, siblings are dancing...

...only three minutes to go. I’d take a Good Time score. Come on, we can keep it up...

...Daz is delicately feeding his bride the cake instead of smashing it in her face, good man, Beau’s all aglow in the zone...

...John’s heartfarting a lesbian, he can but dream, but at least it’s a nice dream for him...

...there’s a mother and son dance-off happening, Diggy’s being great with kids as she always is...

...besties dancing – holy shit we hit Roof Raiser! Is that all it takes? A little all-round positivity? Well then. Remind me to throw MOAR wedding pardies.

Beau DO NOT KILL MY ROOF RAISER VIBE with your grumpus face!

Beau: It’s this rain, it’s playing havoc with my corsage.

Rain on a wedding day is lucky! And you like music don’t you kid, just sing that Alanis song. 🎵 It’s like ray-ee-aaaain...

Dina: Goodness gracious. Brandi’s eldest, you’re growing like a weed.

Huh, interesting! The special event camera just kicked in. I wonder what that could be fo –

WHAT

THE

FUCK

I... just... I’m wordless. ACR, you are a freak. Goodnight dear Simblrverse. Stick a fork in me, I am DONE.

Hey – great party though!

[loveinthewriteway]

Here (Chapter 9: diction & crossfaded)

Story Index | 1DFF Louis didn’t show up to class today. This shouldn’t concern me as much as it does, but he hasn’t missed a class since school started. After Professor McGonagall (yes, I know her name, but... I’m petty) nearly cut his head off for being late on the first day, he hasn’t even been tardy. I texted him in the middle of lecture, which definitely isn’t like me, but I wanted to know where he was. I still haven’t gotten a reply, which is also out of character for him. I’ve noticed that he’s usually quick to respond to me in particular (but then again, he’s on his phone 24/7). Professor McGonagall’s mouth is moving but her words aren’t processing at all. Louis’ absence is enough of a distraction for me during class, but once my mind wanders to what I have planned tonight… well. I may as well have missed class like he did. Although I already agreed to having a threesome with Niall and Carmen tonight, I know it’s not too late for me to back out. Of course it would be best for me to be honest with them about my conflicted feelings, but knowing me, I would probably just say I started my period. That would buy me some time to rethink my decision. At the same time though, I can’t deny my desire with participating in something so… forbidden. It’s honestly quite exciting, and simply imagining the possibilities makes me clench my thighs closer together. The fact that they’re interested in me to do something like this with them is already a big deal. I’ve accepted my attraction for Carmen, and again, I can’t deny that Niall has made me feel some sort of way too. Reading about sexual fluidity for my Gender Studies class has me more confused than ever. I can’t stand not knowing the answer to something so important, so maybe something like this will help me figure it out. *** My first day at work is the perfect distraction that I desperately needed. This morning, I thought I was set on doin’ the nasty with Niall and Carmen. But all it took was me struggling for half an hour trying to find a somewhat sexy outfit, and I second guessed my decision. Do they actually find me attractive? Or am I just a perfect candidate to fulfill one of their fantasies? These thoughts legitimately made my head ache, so I took a nap before my shift. It kind of helped (despite my odd dream about Niall sitting in a cardboard box and continuously saying, “Just chillin’ out me box.”) Now I’m just here in the library, twiddling my thumbs and waiting because I’m here a lot earlier than necessary. Finally, I’m approached by an older man, “Hello. You must be…” He adjusts his glasses while squinting at his clipboard, “Ariana. I’m your manager, Boris.” I try to not cringe at my mispronunciation of my name as “air-ee-anne-nuh” and not “are-ee-on-uh,” and the fact that my manager’s name is legitimately Boris. I know I should’ve politely corrected my name, but I missed the chance when he carried on with going over my work responsibilities. His voice is monotone and dry, so I have to put in extra effort to actively listen to him. I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I’ve never been so happy to see Harry in my life when I spotted his notably tall figure. Boris says, “Ah, there’s one of your shift leads. Hello Harry, so nice to see you.” Is it? Is it really nice to see him, Boris? “This is Ariana, she’s new.” “You mean Ariana, Boris,” Harry politely corrects, while maintaining his charm with an easy chuckle. Must be nice. “We’re met before. In fact, we actually studied together yesterday.” He has a friendly grin when he hugs me, while I’m caught off guard at the sudden gesture. Harry tells our manager that a student is waiting to be helped, so I’m finally free of Boris’ dullness. Okay, maybe I’m being a little mean since he’s probably a nice guy. I’m close to falling asleep standing up though, and that wouldn’t set the best impression. “Um… sorry no other English tutor is free right now. From what I know, it’s nothing too hard,” Harry attempts to assure, even though I feel like I’m having a heart attack from my lack of direction. It’s my first job and I have no idea what I’m doing. Awesome. “Just answer the student’s questions, and make sure you stay in your time frame. Your student has half an hour.” I open my mouth to ask a question (read: or ten), but Harry leaves to help his significantly longer line of students needing help with math. Letting out a deep sigh, I nervously open the door to the reserved room with a student waiting. It certainly helps that this girl student is likely a first year, who looks just as shy as I am. I clear my throat and project my best impression of “confidence (whatever the hell that is),” “Hi there! My name is Ariana, what do you need help with?” My voice is a lot louder than I intended, so it makes her jump. “I… um. Do you mind revising my essay?” she asks in a small voice before hastily adding, “Oh and… some feedback with my ideas too?” I easily nod and throw (what I hope is) a comforting smile. Proofreading has always come naturally to me, which is why I usually don’t mind when my friends ask me to revise their essays. To be honest, I’m guilty of choosing to help them in order to put off my own homework; it just doesn’t feel like work to me. After getting through the first page of this essay about African American writer and civil rights activist Audre Lorde, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I don’t allow it to break my concentration, until the sporadic buzzing becomes more audible. Although I can easily get away with checking it since no supervisor is with me, I want to stay focused on helping this student since we’re tight on time. But damn, whoever is texting me must need me to bail them out of jail or is in labor. Maybe even both. (Or it’s probably just my group chat with Liam, Zayn, and Monique. Sometimes, they have stupid ass meme battles I never partake in. I view the text thread just so to get rid of the notification of 37 texts.) “You can answer that, if you want,” the first year speaks up first. “No no, I’m working. Sorry about that,” I apologize, my ears flaming in embarrassment. Running my hands through my mess of curls, I manage to tune out the vibrations and continue revising. All of my friends tend to have the same horrified reaction when they see how much I’ve scribbled on their paper. I guess I can’t blame them. Each essay I’ve revised is splattered with red ink everywhere, as though all their hard work is nothing but a messy war zone. This is definitely the same case with this student. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad paper. I’m just a tough grader so you can be prepared for your professor,” I reassure, but this doesn’t really change her bewildered expression. While I explain my revisions so far and provide constructive criticism, in the corner of my eye, I see frantic movement through the glass of my office. I glance over and my eyes bulge out of their sockets when I see Louis Tomlinson, obnoxiously waving his arms. What in the world?! I can’t hear anything he’s babbling, so it’s like watching the Pokemon Mr. Mime on a silent film. Although it’s hard to resist my amused grin, I try to decipher what the hell he’s saying. My tilted head and wrinkled brows in confusion clearly shows that I’m failing, so Louis rolls his eyes and points to his phone. I huff in annoyance, holding my hand up so he can just hold the fuck up. This boy’s impatience will be the death of me. “I’m so sorry about that, um… what was I saying?” She squeaks, “It’s fine. I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done talking to your boyfriend.” My lips purse, because why do people always have to assume that a boy a girl is talking to is her boyfriend? And God, why do people assume everyone is heterosexual? Zayn crosses my mind for a moment because the same thing happened with us. Wow, we still haven’t talked since then… this may have been the longest we’ve gone without talking. I quickly shake my head and insist, “He’s not my -” “You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?” My eyes narrow at the very rude interruption that decided to just burst into my work, like he owns the damn place. Although, it is a relief to know that he’s alive and kickin’ despite missing his first class without telling me. A growl erupts from my lips. “You know when I don’t answer, it means that I’m busy, right?” Louis simply shrugs while cracking an amused smile. “I’ll just wait here till you’re done then.” I roll my eyes and don’t argue, because I’ve already wasted enough time. As I attempt to divert my attention back to the essay, I overhear Louis trying to start conversation with the timid student. It’s kind of sweet that he’s really trying, despite her not-so-good social skills, and how it doesn’t take long for her to ease into talking with Louis. For a second, my pen freezes with correcting grammar because I realize that that’s Louis and me in a nutshell. But clearly, he’s just an outgoing guy to everyone. I’m not anything special. My heart sinks a bit. I carry on with revising, until I hear him call out, “Grande?” Lifting my head, I simply raise my eyebrows in acknowledgement. He blinks a couple times before licking his lips and looking down on his lap. “I’ll tell you later. Sorry.” “I’m…” I begin, feeling a little bad because he did go out of his way to see me. “I’m almost done, okay? Let me just finish this up, Lou.” His face lights up and I try my hardest to not smile - his happiness is so damn infectious. I hate it sometimes. When I resume giving my feedback to the student, who looks more out of place than ever, I feel Louis’ eyes on me the entire time. This makes my cheeks redden and my words to stumble out of my mouth clumsily. It’s no secret that Louis makes me nervous, but why is the simple action of him looking at me making me feel this way? “Any questions?” I manage, despite my anxiety starting to go haywire with everything running through my mind. She shakes her head and thanks me before rushing out the door. Listen girl, I feel you. But at least you can run away, unlike me. Before Louis can say anything, I blurt out, “Why weren’t you in class today? And why didn’t you text me back?” His bright blue eyes widen a bit, shocked at my outburst. But then he grins, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “You worried about me, Grande?” “N-no, I just…” I hastily defend before huffing out in frustration when his amused expression doesn’t falter, “You should’ve told me. We’re partners.” In our project, I mean. Not like, sexual or anything… Oh my goodness, anyway. Louis’ tone softens, “I know, I’m sorry. I pulled an all nighter working on my essay. Not even sure what time it was when I knocked out, but I slept throughout our class.” My eyes fall to my feet, feeling a bit guilty for assuming the worst. I should’ve remembered how stressed he was yesterday at the library. But of course I didn’t, Niall was too damn distracting. Oh God, that just reminded me that I’m having a damn threesome in a couple hours. “And for the record, I did text back,” Louis adds before puffing his lips out into a pout, “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.” I roll my eyes, ignoring how adorable that kind of was, “I’m working, Louis. Literally, as we speak.” “Yeah yeah, whatever,” he waves me off nonchalantly, “I just wanna know what I missed today.” I hand him my notebook from my backpack. While he takes pictures of my notes, I let my pride down for a second and mumble, “Are you… are you okay? From staying up? Do you want me to look over your essay or anything?” Louis’ movements halt for a beat before he looks up at me, his cheeks spread in a beam, “I’m okay, thanks Grande. I already turned it in, but can I take you up on that offer next time?” “Meh. Maybe,” I shrug, but he knows that I probably will. “All right, I should really get back to work. It’s my first day, I really don’t wanna mess this up.” “You? Never.” *** “Pen for your thoughts?” I blink, my deep thoughts interrupted by Harry walking into the break room. He legitimately hands me a pen (UCLA branded, of course), which makes me snort at his (somewhat impressive) pun. When he takes the seat in front of me, Harry takes a sip of his tea - looking a lot like one of my aunts who lives for drama. Nervously looking around as though this empty room is filled with people, I hesitate before finally giving in, “I’m… I’m a little stuck with something.” A second opinion shouldn’t hurt, right? Harry seems like a nice guy. “Do tell,” he murmurs against his mug as he sips again, leaning in closer in interest. At first I snicker, but then my face falls. How can I forget that - hello - Harry is Louis’ best friend and Niall’s frat brother. I can’t tell him about how I’m nervous about my fucking threesome with Niall and Carmen! Shit. “I-I don’t know if I should, uh...” I stutter a bit, but Harry waits patiently, his chin resting on his palm. He really does look like one of my gossiping aunties. “take… swing dance classes. Tonight.” Oh Jesus Christ, that is what I come up with? I guess it’ll do (even though I would never, ever take any sort of dance class - let alone for fucking swing). Harry blinks, seemingly disappointed at the anti-climatic tea I spilled, “Oh. That’s it?” “Like, okay. I want to try it, don’t get me wrong,” I begin to vent easily, my conflicted thoughts spilling out of me, “It sounds fun and exciting but… what if I’m not ready to do something like that?” Harry’s brows furrow as he slowly nods, “I take it you’re not that much of a dancer?” “No. Definitely not. I’ve only, uh, taken Zumba classes,” I attempt, really trying to get some genuine advice from him, “I’m comfortable with Zumba, I’ve never tried… any other dance classes.” I’m surprised how well I’ve been keeping this up. “Hm. Well, you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Even if it might be too late to cancel,” he advises while casually drinking more of his tea, “But then again, you never know if you’ll like swing dancing until you try.” My shoulders relax a bit, impressed by how his feedback actually applies to my situation. Even though his thoughts aren’t really anything new, hearing it from an outside perspective is enough affirmation for me. Harry continues, “Are you going with a friend or?” I pause for a moment. “Um. Yes?” I mean, I guess Niall and Carmen are my friends. “That’s good. If you’ll be with people you trust, they’ll help you have a good time if you’re nervous.” I can’t help but snort at the relevance. “You’ll be fine. Just make sure you stretch and be prepared to move your body in ways you didn’t think it could.” I bust up laughing at the innuendo he is completely clueless about, and receive a strange look from Harry in response. “We’re still talking about swing dancing, right?” *** I’ve been standing in front of Carmen’s dorm for ten minutes, my hand hovering over the door in hesitance. My nerves are taking a toll on me, to the point that I’ve lost track over how many times I’ve rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. I can only hope that this shirt doesn’t show my sweat circles under my armpits. (I know, so sexy.) Although it took my entire closet exploding in my dorm, I was able to find a pretty good outfit. The best I can do, at least. I’m wearing a white over the shoulder, long sleeved crop top with a matching choker (which was probably on sale when I bought it years ago, but whatever). Monique sent me the 100 emoji when I Snapchatted her, so that’s got to mean something. Because I have no matching sets of lingerie, I figured that the next best thing would be to match colors. Although this strapless nude bra is uncomfortable and probably a cup too small (Victoria’s Secret employees would have my head, I know), I believe it’s pretty hot! Same with my nude panties (that may or may not be a couple shades off). Does it really matter though? It’s coming off anyway. Before I can consider (for the thousandth time) to retreat back to my dorm and hide under my covers for the rest of my life, my fist finally knocks on the door. It opens painstakingly slow, and I’m welcomed by a slow drawl, “Hiiii Ariiiii…” My jaw drops a bit when I take in Carmen’s appearance. Don’t get me wrong, I believe this beauty is one of those people who can look stunning no matter what. I just wasn’t expecting her to look so… comfortable? Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, strands of hair freely falling and baby hairs curling up at her temples. She’s rocking an oversized shirt and basketball shorts, which makes me feel terribly overdressed. This look isn’t a bad thing at all; I just wish I got the memo, damn it. “Hey Carmen,” I begin, until I notice her bloodshot eyes. “Um… you okay?” A lazy smile spreads across her cheeks while she nods her head, her bun cutely bopping along with her movements. Things make a lot more sense when the strong stench of marijuana fills my nostrils once I walk in. “Ariana!” I almost fall over in surprise when Niall practically tackles me into a hug. He’s also dressed rather comfortably, which is irritating because he also looks damn good with no effort. Stupid snapback hat, shirt with cut off sleeves, and gray joggers. Niall sounds a lot more friendly and enthusiastic than usual, but his voice trails off when his eyes wander my form, “Wow… you look…” “Hot as hell,” Carmen whispers in my ear from behind me, making me almost fall over again. When she places her hands on my tense, bare shoulders, she asks if I’m all right. “Um… yeah…” I don’t sound too convincing. Niall chuckles before suggesting, “Maybe you need to relax a bit?” My eyes widen when he casually pulls out a joint, as though I asked for some damn sugar. It’s not my first time seeing weed or anything, I’ve just never smoked in my life. In fact, I’ve never been interested in trying despite the fact that all my friends do. “Yes, you definitely should!” Carmen encourages while wrapping her arm around me, “Honestly, I feel so good right now. It’s good quality shit too, so you’ll have a good ass high.” I blink a couple times, before shaking my head and declining, “I’m good, but thank you.” Awkwardly taking a seat on her bed (that’s definitely bigger than mine since she doesn’t have a dorm mate), Carmen pouts while Niall shrugs and lights his joint. I try to keep myself busy by looking at my phone, but my gaze keeps returning to Niall. Fuck, he just looks so… cool. I know. I sound like a damn freshman in high school admiring the popular senior. In a way, that’s exactly how I feel right now - an inexperienced, naive, and small outcast who is somehow hanging out with the cool kids. I’ve never been pressured to do drugs - verbally, at least. But you see, peer pressure is typically depicted in movies like this: the popular antagonist pushes the goody-two-shoes into trying something bad, the good guy is resistant at first, and they eventually give in when the bad guy calls them a chicken or something. Movies never really address how peer pressure can occur without harmful intentions. Someone can compromise their prior beliefs simply because they are outnumbered, not necessarily for the sake of “looking cool” - more so, to at least feel like they belong there. This is why I find myself asking quietly, “Niall? Uh, may I-” Despite the clouds of smoke that he exhales, his blue eyes still shine in arrogance - as though he knew I was going to ask. He uses his index and middle finger to gesture me to sit with him by the desk (which really shouldn’t be making me feel some type of way). “Yaaasss, Ari!” Carmen cheers, shamelessly sticking her tongue out. “While you do that, I’mma get some snacks. Be right back.” Before I can say a word, she hurries out the door and closes it shut behind her. I’ve never been alone with just Niall before, so my stomach is churning a bit. Even though I know he’ll probably be easygoing and flirty like yesterday, I’m still anxious over how I’m going to act towards him. Maybe I really do need to get high… hell, getting crossfaded doesn’t sound like a bad idea either. I knew I shouldn’t taken a shot before I came here. “Is it your first time?” Niall nonchalantly asks, while I’m a bit stunned at his forwardness. When he catches the look on my face, he smirks while clarifying, “Smoking. Is it your first time smoking?” “Oh!” I nervously laugh because, my God, I thought he was straight up asking if it was my first time having sex. Y’all can’t blame my mind being in the gutter; I’m about to have a threesome, okay? “Uh, yeah.” My cheeks redden a bit in embarrassment, and I expect Niall to look at me like I’m some sort of prude. Instead, he easily grins and offers, “I can help ya out if you want.” “How so?” My tone comes off as more suggestive than I intended, and Niall seems to interpret it as flirting. I’m not mad about it though. His tongue briefly runs over his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on me, “Open your mouth.” Normally I would’ve questioned this sudden command, but his husky voice and dominance proves to be persuasive when my mouth opens obediently. Niall lights another joint before bringing it to his lips, taking his time to inhale the drug. His hooded lids open to meet my curious orbs. Niall gestures me to come closer again, his magnetic pull drawing me closer. Although I haven’t even taken a hit yet, the ounce of confidence I have pushes me to sit on his lap. He’s surprised at first, but he doesn’t seem to mind when his hands hold my frame. My plump lips, still ajar, are centimeters away from his when he slowly breathes into me. His whisper simultaneously blows with the smoke, “Take it in. Slowly.” Fuck. I do what I’m told once more. My eyelids flutter to close while I instinctively adjust myself, trying to relieve the aching desire to some extent. Niall groans, which makes me realize that I unintentionally grinded on him. Again, I’m definitely not mad about it. Within moments, a rush of relaxation conquers my nerves. My tense muscles are now loose, and this new feeling of liberation has me on cloud nine. I definitely understand why people smoke weed now, I honestly feel… amazing. After vaguely hear Niall say something, I mutter not very coherently, “Huh?” His chuckle makes me laugh too, for whatever reason. “I said, you want another hit?” Niall has this crooked grin that is also very convincing, so I energetically nod like a damn bobblehead (again, who cares though). With his guidance, I take a couple hits with our shared joint. Every puff I take in seems to level up my self-esteem, especially sexually, which is what I’ve desperately needed. I’m ready to ask Niall to shotgun me again, but I perk up when Carmen walks back in. Hopping off of his lap, I gush, “Caaaarmen. You’re right, I feel so fucking good.” She beams, before finishing the last of her Snickers bar. I wish she bought me one too, it smells so fucking good. “So are we gonna get started or what?” Niall puts out the joint on the ashtray and stands up, casually placing his hands behind his head. “Can’t wait any longer, babe.” I’m sure he’s addressing his girlfriend, but my face heats up anyway. “Ariana,” Carmen turns towards me, giving me her undivided attention, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” I don’t even bother to hide my eagerness. “Yes.” Fuck reconsidering this for the thousandth time. I’m with Niall - let’s get this started already. I want Carmen, I want Niall, and I want them both at the same time. After a stare-off of what feels like ten minutes, she finally nods, “I want this too. Babe, what about you?” “Are ya kidding?” Niall stands up and wraps each of his arms around us, “Do you really have to ask? Fuck yeah.” Of course we have to ask, consent is important! We’re standing there for a couple seconds, not really knowing what to do. Carmen makes the first move and stands in front of me. My face flushes when her hands cradle my cheeks, mumbling, “I’ve never kissed a girl before.” I’m stunned in silence as she inches closer to me. The pace is too slow for me, so I decide boldly close the gap between us. Her lips are soft and full - perfect, really. I’m not sure what tastes sweeter, her or the chocolate. I run my fingers through her hair, enjoying her gasp when I tug on her bun. Her hands find their way to my hips briefly, but it’s not long before they make their way lower. My quiet moan vibrates between our mouths when she squeezes my ass. A louder moan escapes when Niall caresses my breasts from behind, while his mouth begins to eagerly kiss the back of my neck. He sucks harder before lightly tugging with his teeth, no doubt leaving a love bite as a reminder of tonight. When Carmen and I separate to catch our breath, I’m captivated by her swollen lips and pink cheeks. I’m not given much time to appreciate it because Niall hastily turns me around to face him, “I love this shirt, but you won’t need it anymore.” (I try to not think about if he intended to quote Bruno Mars’ song, “Versace on the Floor.”) His fingers sneak under my top, and it amazes me how my skin tingles at his simple touch. Niall attempts to hastily pull my shirt off, but that fails because the tight sleeves get stuck in my arms. We all laugh it off, especially when it takes a lot longer than expected to remove it. Once both my top and choker drop to the ground, Niall’s breath hitches in his throat. “Damn. Wow.” Carmen stands next to him and bites her lip, “You’re so hot.” It doesn’t take very long for everyone else’s clothes to join mine on the floor, but I’m last to strip completely. Although my high is still at its prime, I’m still a bit self-conscious since I haven’t been nude in front of someone for a long time. Carmen seems to sense my hesitance since her lips meet mine again, which easily comforts me. She wraps her arms around my chest and unhooks my bra without looking (something I’m sure Niall definitely can’t do). Shivers are sent down my spine once I’m completely exposed, especially when Niall pulls off my panties. I wonder why Carmen whines in my mouth at that moment. My question is answered once fingers brush against my throbbing center, causing me to curse. “Good thing I’m left handed and right handed, huh?” Niall teases. This cheeky remark doesn’t really fully process in my clouded mind, because my smart ass definitely would’ve corrected him. It’s called ambidextrous. “I’m sorry this is forward but um,” Carmen abruptly says, halting our touching, “I’ve always wanted to try scissoring.” Oh Jesus. I can’t say I’m surprised, this is one of the most popular ~lesbian sex positions~. In case you don’t know what it is, here’s my most simple explanation: make a peace sign with both hands and close them in together. The gap between your index and middle finger on each hand should be touching the other - like scissors (hence the name). Now... imagine your fingers are women’s legs. Know what I mean, jellybean? A bit overrated, in my opinion. “Um…” I trail off, trying to not be as blunt, “it feels good, but it’s not the most comfortable?” “Can you both just give it a try?” Niall groans close to my ear while stroking Carmen’s back, “God, it would be sooo sexy.” I make a face, hoping that he’s not expecting us to reenact some porn video. Those are incredibly exaggerated and should not be the expectation of true sex. “Mm… all right,” I decide, only because I haven’t done that position in a long time. I’ve always been on top, which I’m okay with, but I get tired easily. Since it’s Carmen’s first time, I’m assuming I’ll be doing all the work (read: won’t orgasm). Nothing new, I guess. We all move to the bed, Niall stroking himself as Carmen and I get into the position. Carmen’s mirror is close to the bed, so I see our reflection and… wow. I definitely don’t blame Niall - the sight of me hovering over Carmen’s beautiful naked form is incredibly arousing. My eyes drift down to her already staring at me, her brown eyes significantly darker as she takes me in. My dripping center meets hers, and already, her eyes are rolling back in bliss. I grind slowly at first, but I can’t help but quickening my pace. I’m normally rather quiet, but this pleasure has me letting out noises without a second thought. This doesn’t very last too long unfortunately, because my fucking leg falls asleep. I try to ignore it at first, but once it starts to affect my grinding, I speak up, “Ugh, shit. I’m sorry, my leg is asleep.” While I’m kind of embarrassed about this, I feel that communication is necessary. Also, this is probably a reality check for Niall that we’re humans - not porn stars. “It’s… it’s okay,” Carmen assures, a little out of breath. “Let’s try a different position.” I’m relieved when I finally have the chance to lie down. Geez, I need to go to the gym. “Okay, let’s plan this,” Niall speaks like he’s our damn coach or something, despite having a (quite impressive) boner (but then again, this is the first dick I’ve seen in person so I don’t have much to compare it to). “Babe, can you suck my dick?” “Yeah sure. Ari, do you mind eating me out though?” It’s getting difficult for me to stifle my laughter when we talk so casually about this, but again, communication is important. I appreciate us planning this. I stroke my chin thoughtfully, “How the hell are we gonna do that?” We lie in silence, contemplating for a couple moments. When a raunchy idea comes to mind, I’m quick to suggest it, “Carmen, you can sit on my face while you suck Niall’s dick.” Jesus. I didn’t mean to be so… crude. I surprise myself. Niall agrees within a millisecond, “I’m down. Yup. Let’s do it.” “Damn… didn’t think you got down like that, Ari,” Carmen muses slyly going on her knees, while I nonchalantly shrug. “Niall, how about you get off the bed and stand up? I’ll blow you on the edge of the bed?” He doesn’t even bother hiding his clear excitement when he hurriedly obliges. It takes awhile for us to get the hang of our placement, but we manage. A couple pillows are placed under my head to provide elevation for Carmen’s mouth to reach Niall’s length. She also has to arch her body a bit (which will probably strain her back after awhile, but she doesn’t seem to mind), while Niall holds onto her weight so she doesn’t fall over. At least it works, I think. I immediately know when Carmen starts Niall’s blowjob because, well, he’s loud as hell. It’s not a bad thing I guess, but my mind starts to wander about the neighboring students. I feel sorry for them, Carmen and Niall are probably sexually active. But anyway, back to what’s really important. Carmen was kind enough to ask if she needed to do anything, but my only response was, “Enjoy.” I truly enjoy this position (my ex definitely took full advantage of that, which is why I’m confident in my skills - lots of practice). I can tell Carmen trying hard to not place her entire weight on me, so I wrap my arms around her thighs so she can relax her muscles. My tongue circles around her clit, and I’m satisfied when I hear Carmen stop sucking Niall off just to moan my name out loud. When I begin to use my lips to suck hers, she begins swiveling her hips against me. One of the hardest things of this position is breathing, but it’s all about control. “Come for me, babygirl.” I pause for a moment, shocked that Niall is able to turn me on again. He wasn’t even talking to me! And with dirty talk? That isn’t usually my forte, but when Niall does it… My center is aching, and I’m desperate to fill my need to be touched. Still, I continue eating out Carmen; truthfully, I’m used to giving rather than receiving. Her thighs begin to quiver, and she reaches her orgasm almost instantly. “Ari baby, when can I taste you?” Fuck. When Carmen gets off of me, Niall lies down next to me. His hand rubs my inner thigh before slowly grazing my swollen sex, making me hiss. “Wanna sit on my face? Let me take care of you.” “Please.” I don’t recognize my own whimper that comes out of my mouth on its own accord. I’m pretty impressed with Niall’s idea of Carmen riding him while he does this (probably an idea from porn). Some of my confidence simmers a bit since this is the first time I’m the one receiving in this position. And my thighs are definitely thicker than Carmen’s. What if I kill Niall?! I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts. While Niall grabs a condom (an entire pack is conveniently placed on the nearest desk - they’re definitely prepared), I clean my face a bit before smoking another joint. Although my mind gets more foggy than my first high, my body is more at ease and I feel better already. I needed that. Niall’s “come hither” gestures shouldn’t turn me on as they do, but they really do. I’m practically crawling towards him, my mouth watering at the sight of him lying on his back stroking himself. Unlike before, I’m swiftly on my knees and ready to straddle his face. My body is facing Carmen as she readies herself to ride Niall. He wraps his arms around my thighs like I did earlier, but he roughly brings me down on him. I’m caught off guard, but very turned on. Niall’s mouth is working wonders in a hurried pace, which brings overwhelming sensations everywhere. Is it the drugs that’s making me high out of my mind, or is it his fucking tongue? Niall is like a drug I can’t get enough of. He makes me want to be selfish and demand to receive, not give. Carmen’s moans aren’t even registering in my head because I’m so caught up in this boy underneath me, determined to send me over the edge. It’s not until she calls my name, in which I lazily recognize by simply opening my eyes to meet hers. My heart stops when I finally take her in. Her breasts are bouncing with every thrust while her brows are furrowed in concentration, desperate for her and Niall’s release. I whimper, short of breath, “Fuck.” “I’m close -” Carmen manages to say despite her panting, and I shamelessly watch the way her mouth opens wider and wider until she cries out. Her movements begin to slow down as her orgasm hits her, so Niall rapidly thrusts into her. His prior rhythm with eating me out gets sloppy as he reaches his high, but unfortunately I can’t say the same. Deep down, I feel like another reason Katy dumped me was because of how hard it can be to make me come. It’s shitty because I just can’t help it sometimes, and it’s actually pretty normal. Once Niall finishes, I get off of him and lie on my back. I’m a bit disappointed, but mostly relieved that I can stretch my legs (listen, this is the most cardio I’ve done in like, months). Carmen and Niall are probably that fit couple who go to the gym together to not only be healthy, but to also have bomb ass sex. Can’t relate. “You didn’t come, huh? Fuck, I’m sorry about that,” Niall genuinely apologizes before offering, “Carmen, maybe you can blow me so I can get hard, and then Ari and I can -” “No, it’s fine,” I insist, interrupting before he can finish his sentence. I think I know where he was going with it. “I’m good. You both came, and I’m okay with that.” “No!” Carmen and Niall object simultaneously. As crazy as the night has been going, this brings a sincere smile to my face because they actually care about me finishing. I’m grateful that they’re the people I’m experiencing this with. It doesn’t take long for me to give in. Sue me, I’m still pretty horny and I want my orgasm. Or five. “All right. Just… um, do you mind just fingering me, Niall?” His face falls, but he nods anyway. “Turn around for me,” Niall gently commands, which I follow despite being a bit confused over him wanting us to spoon. He begins to rub my skin slowly, sensually… almost romantically. We’re interrupted by Carmen, who I almost forgot was there for a second. “What about me?” She doesn’t sound angry at all, more so eager about the next thrilling position we’re going to try. At this point, I’m ready to literally Google the best threesome positions on my phone because I’m out of ideas. Niall sighs against my skin, almost disappointed when he proposes, “How about you lie next to me and give me a handjob while I finger Ari?” Although I’m worried about being an inconvenience to the couple, Carmen’s excitement doesn’t falter when she joins us on the bed. He resumes with his sensual touches, until he murmurs against my ear, “May I kiss you?” My arms are erupted with goosebumps, and I’m not sure if it’s his tickling breath or his request. My head turns to face Niall, who is giving me an intrigued stare. I look over at Carmen, who surprises me with a nod in approval - looking positively enthralled. “Yes,” I quietly utter, still feeling a bit ashamed about how badly I want Niall’s lips on mine. Not only is he dating one of my friends, but... he’s also a guy. Until recently, I was so sure I only liked girls. Now, I have no idea. Unlike Carmen, I don’t want to tell him that he’s the first boy I’m kissing. I don’t realize I’m spacing out until Niall lifts my chin to meet his darker blue eyes. I’m completely still, unable to kiss him first like I did with Carmen. When he closes the gap between us, my breath hitches in my throat in anticipation. His lips are rougher than Carmen’s, as well as Katy’s. He’s more eager, nibbling on my bottom lip and exploring my mouth with his tongue. Although I’m kissing back, I’m still trying to figure out if I like the way his mouth works against mine. He pulls away unexpectedly, “Carmen, babe. I’m sorry, but this position is kind of uncomfortable. Do you mind just… jacking me off after Ari comes?” The entire mood changes. Instead of sexual tension, it’s pure tension now. I feel like I just crossed a very blurry line. “Oh um… okay,” Carmen awkwardly says, “I’ll just touch myself, I guess.” “Honestly, I’m fine,” I’m quick to assert, “This isn’t even necessary -” Although Niall opens his mouth, Carmen is first to insist, “No Ari, you deserve it. You agreed to doing this with us, okay?” When I don’t respond, Niall asks, “You good? Or do you wanna stop?” I turn to Carmen, still unsure, but she smiles and nods. Well, if she’s okay with it then so am I. “I don’t want to stop,” I finally say, going back into my position. I catch the same cocky look in Niall’s eyes, the one when he knows that I’m going to give in anyway. It annoys me, mostly because he’s been right each time. His hand travels from hip up to my breasts, my nipples immediately perking at his touch. While they’re not too impressive, I appreciate that Niall is still giving my chest attention. When he wanders past my belly button, my hips impulsively jolt towards him. “Eager, are we?” His arrogant remark should piss me off, but it turns me on more than anything. He slowly brushes his fingers around my sex, his tantalizing amplifying my desire for him. I’m squirming when I groan, “Niall…” “Yes?” Niall breathes in my ear, acting like he has no idea what he’s doing to me. But he does - oh, he definitely does. “What do you want, baby?” If he thinks I’m going to participate in his dirty talk, he’s going to be disappointed. When I only mewl at his brief flick against my clit, he growls, “Tell me what you want.” In all honesty, dirty talk does turn me on. I’ve never been with anyone who talks like that though, so I’m just not sure if I’m good enough to try. “Come on Ariana,” Niall purrs, the way his name rolls of his tongue makes me lean closer into him, “I know you want it, just tell me…” My mind is moving slowly, to the point that I don’t even realize words are coming out of my mouth, “Come. I wanna come.” At that moment, Niall finally applies pressure on my aching center and I let out my loudest moan. My hips writhe until my legs spread out completely; I don’t even care that my back is basically on top of Niall. He pushes his middle finger inside of me before adding his index finger, confidently curving it to hit that spot. I’m helplessly melting into him, again, not realizing what I’m even saying, “Yes… right there, please.” He doesn’t need me saying that though - Niall is so sure of himself. When he uses his other hand to rub my clit while pumping faster, my thighs start shaking. “You like it when I get aggressive?” I’m really glad he can’t see my face in this angle, because it completely drops. Cue the sound of the record scratching and stopping. Did he mean to quote Drake’s song, “Controlla?” Or does he not think I would pick up on it? “Who’s gonna make you come, babygirl?” Because honestly, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I never listen to the radio. In fact, I only know that song because of - “Lou-” Oh my God! Did I really just... “y-you. You. You are gonna make me come.” God bless my up to par skills of thinking on my toes and under pressure. Even though I’m about to go under cardiac arrest. Jesus Christ, how did I almost do the cliche of saying someone else’s name during sex? Louis’ name, of all people. Why does this type of thing always happen to me?! Niall is quiet for second, so paranoia hits me like a truck. I mean, Lou rhymes with you. He could’ve easily “misheard,” right? Or maybe I’m just fucked. Should I move transfer schools? Move out of the country? You know, moving back to Italy doesn’t sound like a bad idea. My plans for the future are interrupted when Niall asks in a gruff voice, “You close, Ariana?” If he did hear me say Lou, at least he’s not mentioning it right now. But I think he mistakened my heavy breathing as approaching my orgasm. Well, this is awkward - Niall, that was just my anxiety. Louis comes to my mind again, but in a different way. My heart is pounding when I think about the way he looks at me, like I’m the most important person in the room. How his eyes tend to travel around my entire face, settling on my lips a beat longer before meeting my gaze. How his face lights up when I call him Lou, because he feels special enough to be called a nickname. Just like how he calls me Grande. But on the other hand, the few times when he has a serious and tense expression. Whether it be when he’s talking about something serious, or when he’s focused on just listening… fuck. “Yes, I’m close.” My mouth is moving on its own again, but at least it’s honest this time - only because I’m thinking of someone else. My mind is all over the place, but all I know is that Louis is the only one running through it right now. I start to think about how his skin would feel against mine, how he would make me feel good - When the fingers rub me a lot more frantically, I’m reminded that the person touching me isn’t Louis - it’s Niall. Someone who doesn’t know me nearly as well as Louis, and apparently, not about how “being close” doesn’t always mean “go faster.” Just keep up what you’re currently doing, damn! Despite being under the influence, I can still recognize that I’m not close to finishing anymore. Knowing Niall, he’s not going to give up until I come - but it doesn’t seem likely tonight. I’m a bit disappointed, but mostly exhausted. So, I do the second worst (this may actually be worse) thing during sex: I fake it. My performance isn’t too shabby, but I’m not too proud of the fact that it’s because I’ve done it often in the past. I feel like I’ve let Nicki Minaj down by not demanding my orgasm, but again, I’m tired. And hungry. Maybe I’ll get a Snickers too. Niall is the first to speak up, “Wow. This was all so… damn. Craziest shit I’ve ever done.” I nod in agreement, because honestly, I can’t argue with that. I lay there in silence, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. Everything is still moving slowly though, and all I want to do is sleep. “Well, I’m gonna clean up.” I jump, almost forgetting that Carmen was there for like, the tenth time. When I catch the weird look on her face, my body abruptly sits up. Shit, what if she heard me say Lou? I know she wouldn’t tell him but… I do not want Louis ever finding out that this happened. There’s no way he’ll ever find out that I was thinking about him, so at least I can keep that a secret. But I don’t even want to tell him about the fact that I just had a threesome with Carmen and Niall. Why though? Asking myself that simple question makes my heart stop. What scares me the most is that I might know the answer. --- (Beyonce voice) GOD DAMN GOD DAMN GOD DAMN That happened. Told y’all it was gonna be wild. I know it’s pretty graphic, and trust me, it’s intentional. While I wanted to express how ~sexy~ it is, I also wanted to describe some realistic scenarios as well. (Tee, you probably wanna kill me for making the threesome happen. Don’t worry, Ari learns her lesson and things kinda go downhill from here lmao) Sorry this took so long! It’s been awhile since I’ve written smut, so I definitely struggled. Hopefully this is decent! I would greatly appreciate any sort of feedback: -about the smut (read: ~swing dancing~) as a whole -Niall being a horny shit (can’t blame him, he’s doin’ the nasty with Alessia Cara and Diane Guerrero like...) and stealing lines from songs (lmao pls don’t hate me but it’s kinda funny) and “just chillin’ out me box” -Ariana becoming a ~dangerous woman~ when she’s high and almost saying Louis’ name lmao bye -Harry as the auntie who lives for drama and spilling the tea -Louis visiting Ari at work -Niall’s natural brown hair and unseasoned chicken -how your day is going, the Golden Globes (can I just mention that I fucking typed Golden GLOVES at first? I’m crying), anything! Okay. Ready for the rest of my long ass author’s note regarding Here getting featured? (You don’t have to read this, but it would mean a lot if you did!) I’m gonna get hella simpy because, well, that’s me (even though I definitely screamed/cried in all caps in a Tumblr post). I am so incredibly honored that Here is December’s featured fic! Holy hell, it still blows my mind. I didn’t think I would ever get that kind of recognition, and this fic is one of the few featured fics with less than 100 reviews. I don’t have a problem with that of course; I write because it’s my passion, that’s all. But damn. That’s why I’m so damn shook lmao! Most importantly, this is one of the few featured fics that has a woman of color as the main character (not just as a face claim either - Ariana’s Italian-American culture is a component to her character). This is the main reason I’m so emotional about all of this and why it’s a huge deal. While representation in fanfiction may not be equivalent to Hollywood, I find it to still be a prominent issue. When I first got into 1DFF, I was pretty much conditioned to accepting that every main character is going to be a white, heterosexual, cis gendered, thin, able-bodied girl. But honestly? I was and still am tired of it. Since writing is an awesome platform that provides countless opportunities, I try my best to be inclusive and have diversity in my cast (especially since OT4 are white, hetereosexual, cis gendered, able-bodied, and fit the beauty standard already). In this case, I wanted to focus on a woman of color’s questioning her sexuality and bisexuality as a whole. With that said, I am grateful that not only my writing is getting exposure - but the fact that my fic with diversity is. The issues I address, the different cultures… It means so much that I’m gaining readers who (hopefully) absorb the messages, as well as women of color readers who reach out too. Thank you all so much. - Angel

[bigbrothermatsuoka]

Ina-chan~ Can you do the love love asks about you and Rin and your relationship? I wanna know more! :D

E-Eh?! M-Me with Rin? W-Well I can try! Considering how some of the asks doesn’t have relationships. Since you require all of the questions, I’ll try my best to answer all of them!

Me: Instead, I’ll just having him next to me as I answer the questions

Rin: hello, my name is Matsuoka Rin, my name has a girly name but I’m actually a boy–

Me: I didn’t say to do your intro, buT SINCE YOU ASK I’LL LET YOU DO YOU

Jokes aside, some of the answers can be very personal so I’m leaving them under the cut to let ya’ll read.

Blush : What do you do when you have a crush on someone?

Me: I usually stay quiet when I do. the reason why I stay quiet, mainly because I wouldn’t be so sure if I really do have a crush on someone or not. So if I can hang out with them or get to know them a little better, the feelings vary from there on out.

when I’m alone with my crush, I can be very talkative. I would feel extremely awkward if the two of us remained quiet, so I usually try to maintain a good conversation, just in case if things start to die down.

Rin:…so that’s why you couldn’t stop talking that one time.

Me: Y-Yes…. >////

Kiss : What’s the sweetest thing someone has done for you? 

Me: Sweetest thing? Probably someone buying me anything really! or treating me as well. I don’t get a lot of affection or special stuff so yeah!

for Rin, I think just being an inspiration in my life is the most sweetest thing that he would do. No one in real life was able to make me stand like I am now so I would really thank him for that. .////.

Rin: Really? I’m glad to hear that. *smiles*

Me: *Thinks to myself* AAAAAAAAAAA AA  S TOP S MILING SO SW EE TLY—

Cuddle : Which one of your mutuals do you really want to hug right now?

Me: all of them~ if they let me ;w;

Rin: I’d let you cuddle me if you wan–

Me: AHAHAHA…A. THATS OKAY… *sweats nervously*

Heartbeat : What fictional character do you love?

Me: ME??? ? ?? IN LOVE??? I DON’T HAVE—

Rin: Oi, take a look at this picture I just took of myself,

Me: *looks into the camera* okay i lied bECAUSE I CAN ‘T DENY THESE I JUST LOV ET HEM

Rin: huh? Who are you saying this to?

Romance : Perfect date?

Me: I would love to go somewhere for dinner and just walk around the park during the night sky. I’m a night owl and I just adore star gazing!

Rin: Funny you mention that, because I tend to do the same for you.

Me: H-Huh? Y-You don’t have to, if it’s just you, then I wouldn’t mind doing whatever you wanted to do.

Rin: But what if I said I wanted to take you out for dinner and walk around to look at the stars~?

Me: …F-Fine you win >////

Joy : What truly makes you happy?

Honestly, I think having close friends make me the most happiest person alive. That, along with Rin Matsuoka and Rei Ryugazaki for many reasons, they are just so important to me and are the reasons why I’m moving forward today….

Rin: Ah, I’m glad you feel that way about me. I can somehow understand your pain because what got me back up was Haru and the others.

Me: Yeah…them too but you and Rei…just stood out to me the most.

Rin: Really now?

Me: *nods shyly* I’ll explain later…

Happiness : Who are your kin?

Me: LMAO I dunno what a kin is so I’ma skip OTL

Love : Are you, or have you been, in love before?

Me: *looks around to see if Rin is in the room then tries to speak as quick as possible* Sadly I have, but usually they fade away, probably because I know how to deal with getting over things so easily even though for friends, I have a hard time letting go //BRICKED. However, with Rin…I can’t seem to get over him no matter how hard I try. He, along with Rei have a big impact onto my life and I couldn’t have asked for a better inspiration.

Rin: *comes back from the bathroom* What I miss?

Me: A-AH! Nothing! Moving on!

Beloved : What do you love the most about yourself?

Me: There’s not alot really, but if I had to say something it would probably be either the way I sing or how my hair is.

Rin:….so you do care for yourself!

Me: I-I SAID IF RIN!

Sweet: Favorite love song?

Me: TOO MANY TURIEFYDSJOA if I had to describe what song would be for me and Rin, it would most likely be Hello by Lionel Richie call me cheesy but I can relate every time I think of Rin >///

Rin: *comes from the kitchen with snacks* He got you snacks.

Me: A-Ah! Hey! And thanks.

Cute : What’s your aesthetic?

Me: *sweats nervously as I look into my kink list* Lets just skip that >.>

Rin: What’s that on your hand?

Me: NOTHING MOVING ON!!

Thoughtful : If you could change your name, what would you call yourself?

Me: Honestly, I really love my name. I never really thought about changing it one bit because of how unique it is.

Charming : Who helps motivate you?

Me: *looks at the question and turns to Rin* He Rin I’m thirsty can you get me some water while I’m fishing the questions?

Rin: Ah, okay. *Walks off to get the drinks*

Me: *sighs deeply and answers* R-Rin and R-Rei >/////

Beautiful : Who is your ideal significant other? 

Me: For a significant other, I wish to have someone to be determined and passionate towards something that he would want to do. I also want a person that’s can support my dreams while I support his. At the same time, I also want him to be very understanding and loyal as well. Having someone understand you is like finding your other half. Lastly, I wish for a guy that has emotions. Having to always be stoic and act “manly” Isn’t my forte. At the same time it would be nice for him to tease me every now and then

If there was someone that had most of these traits, it would be Rin and Rei.

Rin: Hey, I’m back *Hands out water*

Me: H-H-Hey! Thanks! *takes the water*

Affection : Who do you ship?

Me: Depending on the fandom, I haven’t shipped anything in a while but my current ship at the moment would be Shigure x Nina from Fire emblem. 

JUST RECENT: I was just done looking at Dangan ronpa V3….and I have another ship…but I won’t say because it’s a spoiler for those who haven’t watched it yet!

Kind : What Pokemon would you be?

Me: GODS….THERES SO MANY OF THEM IDK WHICH ONE I WANNA BE…..probably a blaziken

Rin: Blaziken? Isn’t that a fire type?

Me: Y E S

Heart Beat : You’re getting coffee with a celebrity, who is it?

Me: Tops down Amy Lee. She’s one of the most inspirational singers I know and I wish to someday sing just like her…even though my voice might be fading.

Rin: If you wanted to sing that bad, why don’t you sign up to auditions and perform on stage?

Me: I have thought about doing that Rin, but I don’t like the idea of having your own life be exposed for others to know about. It’s like you’ll never be safe if your ever famous ya know?

 Rin: I see, thats reasonable

Giggle : Do you believe in love at first sight?

Me: Maybe? Not really? Who knows, I don’t think I ran into anyone within this situation though. Probably because I’d like to get to know them better.

Laughter : Who can always make you laugh?

Me: Honestly, my friends. Each time I joke around and say lots of things to them, they all know how to brighten my day or make the worse thoughts go away. I would be pretty much dull and alone if it weren’t for having the best of friends.

Rin: Like that one time where Nagisa wouldn’t stop bugging Rei about his personal belongings and how they went missing?

Me: Exactly!

Smile : What do you find attractive?

Me: Probably a guy that is tall, determined, passionate, dedicated towards what they like–

Rin: Me?

Me: RUIEHSDJOJF SHHUSHHHH!!! *blushes*

Warmth : What is your happy place?

Me: Anywhere where I can have some alone time. Normally I’d say my room but my dad has been on and off at my lately to the point where I can’t find my happy place anymore.

Huggable : What are your favorite flowers?

Me: I love Roses~ Their just so beautiful!

Rin: *Walks in holding out a bunch of Roses*

Me: UIORTHFERIOFHRJFH Y-You didn’t have too Rin >////

Soul Mate : Who is your best friend?

Me:I have alot of best friends, but there a few that I believe that deserves to be acknolege.

Real life: @lostpirika @moonlitcritter and one other in real life.

Online: @nymvee @momokitty27 (That’s you~!!) the rest are on skype but not active on tumblr so ouo

Rin: These friends mean alot to you huh?

Me: Yeah, whenever I have them, I feel like I’m unstoppable…

Rin: I see, just like how I felt with Haru and the others

Unique : What qualities do you look for in other people?

Me: Wasn’t there a similar question like this?

Rin: Ah, I think their asking for in general, not as a lover..

Me: Oh that makes sense, I guess people that can have all the patients in the world and stand by my side no matter what happens in the world. I also would love for people to be honest with me. Within the past, I’ve had certain friends that didn’t believe in me or be honest with their words which makes me question almost everyone in the planet if their telling the truth or not. Which leaves me into having a final quality

Trust and lots of support. About a month ago I lashed out at a friend who was telling the truth to me. but I didn’t believe her because I felt like she was lying. Which made me feel that I failed to notice the people who truly care for me.

Other than that, I’m pretty much chill with hanging with alot of other people.

Trust : Do you trust people easily?

Me: This question is very difficult to answer because alot of people I’ve faced within my life have lied to me many times. If I had to tell the harsh truth. No, I don’t.

At first, I’m pretty open to everyone, but lately, I’ve just been pushing people away because I’m scared that I’ll just get hurt again. This feeling was just recent, and it’s has a personal reason that I’m not ready to share.

Rin: That sounds harsh, I’m sorry everything didn’t go too well.

Me: Not you’re fault, honest!

Dearest : What item is most dear to you?

Me: Item? Hmm…

Me: Any gift that a friend gives to me is always something dear to me.

Rin: Like thoese Rose I gave to you earlier?

Me: UIRHOJI R I N