#my life changed when I sat on that movie theater chair…..

[cupcakeinat0r]

The things I would do or say to be able to watch Spider-man: Across The Spider-verse for the first time again…………

[jonesy-and-max]

part 5: Work II

The bell above the door jing-a-linged as Officer Mooney left the store, excited about his rental and all the possibilities that Free Willy 2 could have in store for him. Jonesy gave him a professional, polite wave good-bye and buried her face in her arms on the counter. Max was already in the aisles, headed to the horror section to find himself a copy of the much maligned Chain-Slaughter 4: Last Rites.

The fourth installment of the franchise was released seven years ago, in October of 1989. It had been only a year ago, at that point, that Max had first laid eyes on the original Chain-Slaughter. The summer of 1988 was a formative time in his life, his Uncle Lucky had become his official legal guardian, he had his first kiss, and he was introduced to horror movies. He and Jonesy would watch whatever they could get their hands on. They stayed up late to watch Joe Bob's Drive-in Theater, scoured garage sales for tapes, snuck into midnight showings at the theater, and at the end of it all, Max’s Uncle Lucky gifted him the original Chain-Slaughter trilogy on vhs. It wasn’t his birthday, it wasn’t a holiday, Lucky had simply heard him talking about how he was obsessed with seeing them and just wanted to make him happy. Up until that point, that type of kindness from an adult had, honestly, been nonexistent from Max’s life. So, it was no surprise that when Chain-Slaughter 4 was on its way to theaters, Jonesy and Max were losing their minds in anticipation. It was even less of a surprise that the worst installment of the franchise held such a special place in Max’s heart. It was the first Chain-Slaughter, and the first horror movie he'd ever seen on the big screen. And while the movie going ritual was always something Max treasured, sometimes his best memories would be in the line waiting to get tickets. Killing time with his Uncle and Jonesy, playing the hand slap game, laughing at dumb jokes, all the small interactions they’d have with their fellow line-waiters; he appreciated the journey as much as the destination.

Jonesy had hated the movie, but that never mattered. The movie was terrible, but it could’ve been the best thing she’d ever seen and it still would have been one of the best moments of her young life. Up until that point she had never been to the theater. Her parents didn’t like movies, and her older brother was more into sports, so if he didn’t care, they certainly didn’t care. It was that night she first felt what it was like to belong somewhere. When she got older she realized what she was experiencing that night was an epiphany, that maybe I’ve never been weird, maybe I just hadn’t found my people. That night she slept over Max’s, watching the original Chain-Slaughters, eating pizza, and talking until three in the morning. It had been a perfect opening day.

Last Rites would end up being a confused mess of ideas. A slasher flick with a misguided science fiction bent, a blending of two genres that often taste great together, but in this case, ended up with a stew of curdled milk. Production problems, studio interference, at least five complete rewrites to the script, and even a director change mid-production led to one of the most baffling entries into the slash genre. The collective Chain-Slaughter fandom would refuse to acknowledge its existence only a few weeks later. It would take a couple more decades until Last Rites achieved even the most generous of cult classic statuses.

Max pushed the tape into the VCR next to the register, this one connected to the three TVs over the popcorn maker and the one that sat on their far right, directly on the counter pointed towards them. He rolled the duck tape bandaged desk chair over and made himself comfortable, putting his feet up next to the TV. Jonesy stood behind him, leaning on the counter and eating a handful of popcorn. She snickered at the opening shot of an asteroid crashing to earth.

“Shh!”

“This movie is so ridiculous,” Jonesy ignored him, “I actually, honestly, love the alien bounty hunters. They’re my favorite.”

“I love the one that’s like, are they in love with Edgar Salt? Like, I’ve always got such horny vibes from that one with the exceptionally large belt buckle.”

“At what point is a belt buckle so big it becomes a codpiece?” She chuckled.

“I think about 20 minutes into this movie.”

Jonesy shook her head and dusted off her hands of popcorn salt. “This movie’s so bad I gotta take a shit. I’ll be back.”

“Just so you know it’s considered ‘chronic’ if it interrupts your daily life.” Max said with a sly smile, never taking his eyes off the movie.

“That’s good to know, fuck you very much,” Jonesy flipped him off, “You know Grasso’s always fucks up my stomach!”

“Then stop eating it!”

“I do what I want!” Jonesy disappeared into the customer, single occupancy bathroom, locking the door.

Max grinned to himself and turned up the volume a notch on the TV. 

Jonesy locked the door behind her, put down the seat on the toilet and sat down. She reached under her hat and pulled out three short, fat, blunts wrapped in plastic wrap. A wide, greedy smile spread across her face as she slowly passed them under her nose. Jonesy rolled her eyes in bliss; they smelled amazing. On the plastic she had written “DESSERT” in big block letters. She had scored these particular beauties from Kenny, local dealer and aspiring botanist. Max was a casual fan of a good high, but Kenny could see that Jonesy was a burgeoning enthusiast. He had invited her over to his place so he could show her what he was working on. They smoked and chatted, Kenny was a generally affable guy, he was basically a big teddy bear. Before she left he had given her three baby blunts of his newest strain, he wanted her to test it out and let him know what she thought. This gave Jonesy a kind of weird sense of pride. So far she had been very good at only a few things in her life: movie trivia, that riff from “Touch Me, I’m Sick,” and jerking off. Now she could add bud connoisseur to the list. Maybe she did have a future after all. 

She lit it up and indulged long and deeply, “Ho-ly shit, dude.” In her ears her voice was like a river of molasses. “Kenny, Kenny, Kenny. Are you flirting with me?” She snorted at her own joke and took another hefty hit. The bathroom began to fill with thick plumes of sweet, fragrant smoke as Jonesy enjoyed her dessert. As the warm rush of dopamine enveloped her body, Jonesy’s eyes wandered down between her legs, she held the blunt between her lips, twiddled her fingers in the air and headed south “Don’t mind if I do…”

“We must extract his memories!” The alien bounty hunter jammed a rod-shaped device into the human’s skull. His eyes pulsated different colors as they ballooned and exploded, the now animatronic head screaming and bursting into flames. “Hm. Perhaps a lower level next time, Fleeg?”

“Bwahaha! Krem, you goof!” Max applauded, “Come on, how do people hate this movie??” 

Scitter.

Max caught something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look, but it was gone. He furrowed his brow and got himself comfortable again in his seat.

Scitter.

“Ok, what the fuck.” He looked around, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but he could hear something. Movement. The sound of sharp little nails moving on carpet and some kind of plastic, maybe. Slowly, Max reached down under the counter, finding the “security” baseball bat. “Hey… Jonesy?”

Scitter, scitter!

He saw it this time, a dusty black ball of fur, a flash of a small black orb. It headed towards the back room, and he could have sworn it was dragging something along with it.

“Not on my watch!” Max hopped the counter and gave chase, baseball bat in hand.

He burst into the backroom just in time to see the tip of a wormy tail slip out of sight, through the hole in the door to the basement. Cautiously, he stepped forward, purposeful with each step until he reached the door. It creaked like so many spooky basement doors before it. The scitter-scitter on the cement floors below echoed from somewhere in the darkness, then a subtle metallic scraping noise. The staircase objected to Max’s approach, letting out soft croaks and groans with each step down. He finally reached the lightswitch at the bottom of the staircase, the fluorescent lights flickered to life with a tink tink, hrmmm. The basement of Popcorn Video was full of boxes and assorted junk. Old displays, yellowing posters, endless stacks of vhs. A rolling coat rack with extra uniforms, out of date uniforms, and random, tacky, promotional t-shirts. Two large, industrial looking shelves held even more vhs tapes, tools, lightbulbs, and other miscellaneous detritus. Sitting on one of those shelves were a few flashlights. Max picked one up and turned it on. It flickered and went out, but after a couple of solid smacks, the beam held. The bat had become a bit unwieldy, he put it aside and scanned the room for a new weapon. Max exclaimed in triumph as he discovered a claw hammer sitting in one of the abandoned tool boxes. He gave it a few test swings and, satisfied with its potential, added it to his inventory. He searched the basement with the flashlight, looking for any kind of hint as to where the creature may have gone, he remembered the metal scraping, but couldn’t quite put his finger on what could have made that sound. The spotlight focused on boxes, on shelves, dusty, broken shelving, until it stopped. It had passed over something a little too quickly. Max brought the light back to a large metal grate in the wall behind a stack of boxes. The bottom left of the grate was cracked and bent outward. He pushed the boxes out of the way, crouched down and aimed the beam of the flashlight into the vent. A pair of ghostly, disembodied eyes flashed back in the darkness. It seems he was being watched. The vent was large, about up to his knee and slightly wider than his shoulder. Crawling around in grungy tunnels filled with vermin wasn’t exactly a new experience for Max, more like a beloved, nostalgic, pastime. He pried open the grate, swapped the flashlight and the hammer into opposite hands, and began his entrance into the ominous shaft. Crawling in a few feet, he pointed the spotlight where he had seen the eyes and, sure enough, the creature hadn’t moved an inch. Sitting at the far end of the vent was a rat, a rat the size of a large cat, filthy, with oily fur and wet, red eyes, but none of these things disturbed Max more than what this monster of a rodent was holding. In its leathery little claws it held a Popcorn Video rental, the words, large and bold on the front, revealed its contents: “SEE YOU SOON (1966).” The rat gnawed on the corner of the box.

“Motherfucker!” Max bellowed in disbelief and excitement, “That’s mine!”

Startled, the beast darted down the rest of the vent, took a sharp left around a corner, and disappeared. Max gave chase, crawling after it, deeper and deeper into the vent, turning left and after a few more feet, coming to a steep drop. The ventilation shaft turned into a slide, it actually reminded Max of “the Great Fall,” a waterslide he had always been too afraid to go down as a kid at Neptune’s Kingdom Water Park. Fortunately, Max was pretty good at overcoming his fears. He beared down, gritted his teeth and took the plunge, just like he did in the summer of ‘89. 

“Get fucked, Neptune!” The war cry echoed in the vents that same way it had in the waterslide tube seven years ago.

[jkstompers]

passing notes | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: a year of crushing and jungkook’s finally asked you out on a proper date. 

genre: classmates to lovers??!, established friendship, they go on a date <3, jk is so stressed out, !fancy restaurant warning!, jk is A GENTLEMAN!! but wbk, oc is a nerd but is BOLD AF!!

warnings: mature!! (18+!!), SMUT,...they make out, LOTS of built up tension is let out tonite!, fingering, praise kink, handjob, backseat action, semi-public sex?? very strong language, jk overuses the nickname ‘baby’

word count: 9k

author’s note: pt. 3 of seatmate!jk. WE’VE GOT SOME FILTH TODAY PPL!!!!!!! this is my first time releasing a piece of writing that has smut in it so pls!! let me know what u think!!! i’m open to criticism but i cry easily so… pls pls be nice (Ｔ▽Ｔ) LMAO!! i also completely made up the program for ocean scientists that oc talks about LMAO i just needed her to ramble for a bit hahahah

additional note: also pls imagine jungkook looking like this in class and then wearing this for their date. also if ur curious, this is what i imagined oc’s dress to look like :)

okay enjoy!! thank u ( ˘ ³˘)

it was the end of the semester and of course, the only time jungkook would be running late to class was when he was finally going to ask you out on a date. so far, everything seems to be going against the idea. his alarm didn’t go off on time, the shower took way too long to warm up, and his car was low on gas. now he’s speed walking, almost running, to lecture to make sure that his seat next to you isn’t taken. 

he wants to make sure this goes perfectly. he spent the past two weeks stressing over the plans. asking for recommendations for nice restaurants in the city in almost every group chat he was in. his friend (the one with parents as ceo’s, eunwoo), helped him and got him a reservation at this one five star restaurant that jungkook’s never been to. eunwoo told him that it was the prettiest place he’s ever been to, said it would be perfect for a first date. 

jungkook specifically remembers you telling him that you’ve never gone on an actual dinner date. ice cream dates, movie theater dates, and amusement park dates were what you were used to. there was nothing wrong with that, it’s just that you’ve never experienced a candlelit dinner at a restaurant, that’s it. jungkook just wanted to be the first one to experience it with you. 

so when his morning starts off this shitty, he wonders if his plans are falling apart. he tries to keep a good, positive mindset, but he’s already so nervous and the universe seems to be telling him: don’t do it, she’ll reject you, you’re gonna look stupid in front of her. 

meanwhile, you’re early this lecture. it was the last class of the semester and you were hoping that you could get a nice conversation with jungkook in before it started. the two of you have gotten a lot closer since you last hung out. the chain of events starting with you apologizing for being so embarrassing, 

[12:44 pm] you: jungkook!!! oh my god i am so sorry for last night 😭

[12:45 pm] you: i don’t take alcohol very well 😖

[12:50 pm] jungkook: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

[12:50 pm] jungkook: no need to apologize! are u feeling sick? hungover? 

[12:52 pm] you: omg no not really

[12:52 pm] you: ur a great drinking buddy, i owe u one 🥺

[12:53 pm] jungkook: it’s alright cutie

[12:54 pm] jungkook: just happy ur feeling okay :) 

[12:56 pm] you: let me make it up to u 😭 i’ll buy us lunch one of these days? 

[12:57 pm] jungkook: ah no can do cutie 

[12:57 pm] jungkook: have to buy u dinner first 

the thought of the conversation makes you smile. that one conversation starting the domino effect of the two of you talking almost everyday for the past two weeks. you couldn’t help but expect jungkook to at least be here, but if he didn’t wanna come, then he didn’t have to. 

you sat in your seat, patiently waiting for the one next to you to be filled by him. the hall was starting to fill now and class was about to start. you look around one last time to see that jungkook is still nowhere to be seen, and that a familiar brown-haired guy was beginning to walk up to you. 

“hello, ___! is this seat taken?” taehyung smiles brightly, you look down at the seat next to you. your bag saving the spot for jungkook. maybe he skipped this lecture, since it was practically for nothing anyway, you’ve already taken the final and there was no other material to learn, it was more so to wrap things up and see if anyone still needed to understand something. 

your brain comes to a conclusion. you remove your bag and say, “no, go ahead,” to taehyung with a small smile on your face, one that hides the disappointment riddling your mind. 

it’s about five minutes after the professor starts talking when jungkook finally walks in. he looks up to try and find you as he walks up the steps of the auditorium. his eyes land on you and taehyung, chatting amongst yourselves. he can’t help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy, that’s his seat. even though there were no assigned seats, the place next to you was always his, that’s just how it was, and seeing someone else sitting there, especially taehyung, makes jungkook’s green monster pop out. 

you feel a presence step behind you while you were talking to taehyung, and before you know it, jungkook is sitting in the seat next to taehyung. “oh! good morning, jungkook!” you’re smiling to him. he doesn’t grant you one of his regular vocal responses, rather he gives you a tight-lipped grin before he leans back into his chair and focuses on whatever the professor was saying. 

maybe he was jealous. witnessing you and taehyung having a wonderful conversation, one that makes you smile and laugh like he does. you didn’t even notice him when he came up the stairs, only greeting him when he sat down. no, he was definitely jealous. 

you’re stealing glances his way, pretending to be interested in whatever taehyung is talking about. he’s wearing the most boyfriend-est outfit in the world. a white long sleeve with grey sweatpants, his long hair tied up in a ponytail. you’re unconsciously biting your lip as you stare at him, he’s just so cool. he’s not even doing much other than looking straight forward. but this angle lets you see his sharp jawline and his side profile perfectly. 

you felt bad, one hundred percent. you should have told taehyung that the seat was taken, because now he was talking your ear off and you didn’t mind it, but you wanted someone else to be talking your ear off and it was the guy sitting next to him. 

when taehyung changes his focus to your professor talking about a summer he had in paris. you steal another glance at jungkook. you catch him staring at you, your eyes meet. he doesn’t keep the connection, cutting it off by moving his head and looking straight ahead. his jaw clenches, arms coming over and across his chest. he seems angry, you pick up on the energy now. an idea pops in your head to try and make him feel better. reaching into your bag to find one of your index cards, writing a message on it. 

feeling okay? 

you scoot your chair back a bit, pretending to stretch as you tap jungkook’s shoulder. he turns his head to you, eyebrows raised. you hand him the paper. he stares at first, eyes flickering between you and the paper. reluctantly, he takes it, unfolding his crossed arms to receive the note. you scoot back into your seat and lean into the table, lowering your chin onto the desk. 

jungkook tries to hide his smile as he reads your little note. how could he ever stay mad at you? it wasn’t your fault he was late. so he replies, his black ink has a stark contrast against your green highlighter. he can already feel his bad mood brightening. 

yeah, didn’t save me a seat? :( 

this time he folds the note, handing it to taehyung and telling him to pass it to you. “really? you’re passing notes? we’re in college, jeon.” taehyung snickers as he slides the paper towards you. 

you let a small laugh, reading the note. taehyung’s scolding continues as you write your response on the index card. you changed your green highlighter out with a blue pen. 

i came super early :( waited 20 mins for u </3 but i didn’t think u were coming so i let taehyung sit here 

you send it back and watch jungkook’s somewhat straight face contort into a smile. there it is, the smile that you know and love. 

jungkook on the other hand could cry. you came early. you waited for him. god, had he royally fucked this up. he makes his mind up now. 

i’m sorry :( let me make it up to u? can i take you out on a date tonight? 

check: ◯  yes ◯ no 

jungkook keeps the paper for a good minute, reading the note over and over again, thinking about how childish this way of asking is. but at the same time, jungkook knows that if he talks to you about it after class, he’ll gloss over the words and never ask you. letting the reservation and plans he made weeks ago render themselves useless. it was now or never. 

so he fully sends it, tapping your shoulder and giving it to you directly. you open the note and scan the words, sending him the sweetest look he’s ever received in his life. he thinks that would be a yes. he hopes. you write something onto the card and pass it back to him, your hand grazing his for a second. 

⚫ yes :) ♡ ◯ no 

the rest of the class passes pretty quickly. not that you were paying any attention. jungkook had emailed you a link to a game that the two of you could play, a weird version of snakes. jungkook kept cheating, you swore it, but in all honesty, you knew you couldn’t compete when it came to jungkook and his computer games. a clap from the professor breaks your attention from your screen, “alright, that was the last class of anatomy 101!” he then goes on a two minute long speech thanking the entire class for their great work this past year. he ends his ment with, “good luck and make good decisions! have a fun summer!” 

you take your time packing your things, a little too long for someone that just has a laptop to put into their bag. taehyung says goodbye to the both of you and leaves first, the seat in between you both empty. now it was just the two of you. a small blush creeps onto your cheeks. you were well past your high school crush phase, but jungkook makes you feel so shy again. 

you try to hide it by speaking first, “so, a date?” 

he sends you that award winning smile that makes you swoon. “yeah, did you change your mind?” 

you shake your head. “is it casual? fancy? want me to wear a dress again?” you tease, finally pushing your computer into your bag and standing. 

jungkook gulps. you looked so pretty that night in a dress. “fancy,” he answers, “you can wear a dress if you want, pantsuits are cool too— whatever you want.” he finishes packing as well, standing next to you as you both begin to walk down the stairs. 

“okay then,” you smile. “what time should i be ready?” 

“i’ll come and pick you up at seven, is that okay?” he replies, hand in his pockets. you both make your way out of the room and start to move towards the parking lot. 

“sounds good,” you nod, approaching your car. jungkook walks you to your door, his eyes focused on your sweet smile and your eyes. if jungkook didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were leaning closer towards him. a small laugh leaves your throat. “see you later, kookie.” 

he sends you a smile, the nickname tugging at his heartstrings. the realization hits him after you’ve already driven away and he’s sitting in the driver seat of his car. an embarrassing blush covers his face, he takes a deep breath and laughs to himself. finally. a year of crushing and he’s finally asked you on a proper date. 

jungkook is quite frankly, freaking the fuck out. he isn’t sure what to wear and his hair isn’t working with him. the long strands seemingly out to make his life a living hell when he tries to style it. one strand always looks out of place, or the way that it parts doesn’t sit right. he’s pacing his bathroom, debating if he should just shower again and take all the stupid fucking product out of his hair. 

he gives in after ten minutes of deliberation. a quick shower removing all the wax and gel from his hair. the ends of his hair dripping when he goes to check his phone, the time reading: 6:45. he was gonna be late to pick you up. now he’s full on panicking. he has no other choice then to skip the hair product all together and just let his hair dry and part on it’s own. he slides on his all black fancy outfit he had planned out just in case the first one didn’t work out. he steps out of his apartment after grabbing his car keys, wallet, and the flowers he bought earlier in the day for you. 

a friend of his works in a flower shop. jungkook remembers you saying  that you like all flowers and that you couldn’t choose if you had to. so his friend asked what you were like, trying to figure out a way to style the bouquet without knowing your favorites. jungkook said the general things; you’re sweet like an apple, probably sweeter, like candy. you’re so pretty, it’s blessing that he’s able to lay his eyes upon you. you’re smart, too smart for him to flirt stupidly like he always does, ‘cause you outsmart him and flirt with him back in a wittier way. you’re— that was enough information, his friend told him he was babbling again. jungkook only had to wait ten minutes for his friend to finish fixing up a beautiful bouquet for you. 

the bouquet is placed on the passenger seat as he starts his car, texting you when he realizes it’s almost five minutes until 7. 

[6:54 pm] jungkook: fuck 

[6:54 pm] jungkook: i’m gonna be a little late

[6:55 pm] jungkook: i swear i’m not standing u up

[6:55 pm] jungkook: ok i’m putting my phone down to drive to u now, sorry cutie!! 

[6:57 pm] you: ah okay! 

[6:57 pm] you: i was getting a little worried haha

[6:58 pm] you: see u in a bit <3

jungkook drives safely, but efficiently to your apartment. the drive only taking about five minutes because the stop lights were gracing him with green lights his entire way to you. he parks right in front, grabbing the flowers and hopping out of the car. when he knocks on your door, he starts to feel his nerves work against him. the adrenaline from rushing here gave him enough energy to hype himself up, but now as he’s standing here at your door, waiting for you to answer, his throat starts to dry and his hands start to sweat. 

the metal door slides open, revealing you. in your silk dress, draping over your body in the most flattering way. the neckline deliciously hangs down to reveal your cleavage ever so slightly and the slit on the dress, displaying your thigh teasingly. jungkook is speechless at his first glance at you. his eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open, catching himself drooling once you step out from your apartment. 

“h— hi, you look— wow,” he stumbles over his words, taking a step back to admire you once again. “you’re fucking stunning.”  

you brush your hair back behind your ear, your hand covering the blush covering your cheeks. “thank you, you look very handsome, jungkook.” you reach out and play with his black tie. he looks down when you do, remembering that he was holding a bouquet of flowers for you. 

he holds them out, “these are for you.” like a kid giving his crush a dandelion he picked from the grass. 

“these are gorgeous, jungkook! thank you.” you look up to him with your signature sweet eyes, the ones that never fail to make him melt. “just give me one sec, i’ll put these down and then we can go?” you ask, holding onto the bouquet and waiting for him to respond. a quick nod is all you need to open your door and place them in the fridge. you come out a few seconds later, locking your door and standing by jungkook again. 

“that was fast,” he comments. he holds his arm out for you to hold, which you gratefully take. 

“i just put them in the fridge, my grandma showed me the trick, it helps them live a little longer,” you explain. the two of you walking out to his parked car. he never lets your hand touch the handle, always opening the door for you. 

“when they die, i’ll just buy you new ones.” closing the door for you and making his way to the drivers seat. 

you scrunch your nose. when he comes back and joins you in the car, you voice your worry. “it’s kind of a waste, don’t you think?” 

he shakes his head, “if it’s for you, nothing’s a waste.” 

jungkook was a professional with his words. always rendering you speechless. 

with that he starts the car and begins driving into the busier part of seoul. he makes his way into the restaurants parking garage, the building looks to be about five stories. the architecture itself looks expensive, you wonder where jungkook is taking you tonight. he parks the car, turning off the engine, and moving to open the door for you. he takes your hand and you hold onto your dress, fixing it once you get out of the car. god, you’re so pretty. he was so nervous. 

“ready, my lady?” he smiles, his arm out for you to hold. 

it makes you laugh, a snort almost. “i’ve never seen you so proper, mr. jeon.” 

“only for you,” he winks. your heels click against the concrete floor as he leads the two of you into the building. the high ceilings and multiple chandeliers are what greet you first, the brightness of the place giving the sun something to rival. jungkook brings you over to the waiting area, telling you to wait for a minute as he checks you guys in. 

this was crazy to say the least. the last time you went on a date, it was to the movie theaters. you’ve never been in a place like this; a doorman greeting every guest as they walk in, checking in to eat, multi-story, etc. the more you look around, the cooler it is. “let’s go?” jungkook’s voice makes you turn your head. you stand, taking his hand. 

the two of you follow a man wearing a black and white suit, with a long tail jacket. he brings you to the elevators, holding the doors open for you both. you step in and he presses the fifth button, which was the top floor. you squeeze jungkook’s hand. he repeats the action, looking to you and silently asking if you were okay with the look in his eyes and the raise of his eyebrows. you nod, a smile on your face. 

with that the elevator doors open, the metal doors sliding apart to reveal a private terrace. only a couple tables on the entire floor. a few people sitting down and enjoying their dinners. beautiful greenery surrounding the perimeter, the night sky only making it prettier. your mouth is left agape, you’re stuck in the elevator, speechless. jungkook gently tugs you forward, following the suit man to the table. 

jungkook pulls your chair out for you. you could cry at the chivalry. you sit and he pushes the chair in, jungkook follows soon, sitting in the chair across from you. the man hands the two of you the menu and moves away from the table, standing back near to the elevator, waiting until you are both ready to order. 

“this is fucking crazy,” you whisper-shout. the terrace was lit by these bright fairy lights that were hidden in the plants and were above the tables as well. it looked like little fairies and fire flies were in the air, roaming around. 

“i know right!” jungkook looked as surprised as you were. “i asked my friends for some help and holy shit!” 

“they know you’re on a date with me right now?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. 

to this he furrows his eyebrows, “of course they do, i talk about you all the time—”but he stops himself from exposing himself any further. you can’t help but giggle. “i mean, i asked them to help me make this special, and here we are.” 

you swoon. he’s so sweet for planning all of this out and wanting to make you feel special. the two of you look through the menu, jungkook warns you not to look at the prices, telling you to get whatever you want because the price doesn’t matter. but of course, your eyes stray to the numbers, the meals costing a pretty penny for a simple spaghetti plate, the cheapest thing on there. you were craving pasta anyway, you didn’t mind. the two of you order and wait for the food to arrive. 

the city of seoul was just below you, not too high but high enough to turn people into smaller figures of themselves. the night lights look gorgeous from up here. the warm summer night only complimenting the gorgeous atmosphere. 

“the view is so pretty,” you gaze out into the city. the pretty colors from all the lights of the different stores and restaurants complementing each other so beautifully. 

jungkook was in awe, he knows that the city below you is gorgeous, but he can’t seem to get his eyes off of you. your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyes search through the streets. “yeah…” he agrees, “very beautiful.” he smiles, only looking at you. 

the food comes and you both dig in. the two of you enjoy some conversation with each other as you eat. the topic of growing up comes up, both of you explaining the occupations you wanted, and you said something that sparked curiosity in jungkook. “your childhood dream was to live in california?” he smiles, chewing on his steak. most of the time kids dream about going to the moon or finding atlantis, but you wanted to go to america? 

you nod, “sounds funny right? when i was a teen, i watched a lot of 90210.” 

“is that all though? you only wanted to go because of a tv show?” he asks. there’s something you’re hiding, and jungkook can see it in the way that you hide your smile. 

at first, you hesitate, but you open your mouth to speak, “well— there is— no, it’s embarrassing.” you shake your head, changing your mind and reverting your eyes down. staring at the plate of pasta in front of you. guys you talked to didn’t wanna hear about it, they thought what you were into was boring, embarrassing almost. a part of you feared that jungkook would feel the same. 

you feel his hand on your chin, tilting your head up. “i wanna hear about it.” his face telling you the truth, the sincerity in his eyes as he patiently waits for you to explain. 

“there’s this science program in california, they explore new ideas for researching the ocean, like trying to see what lurks in the deep blue, helping fix the rising oceans, everything-- oh my god, and they like go on field trips to different countries to see the coastlines and historical sites—” you cut yourself off when you realize that you’re talking at the speed of light. “i’m rambling.” you were terrified to see his reaction. 

but when your eyes finally meet jungkook’s, they’re full of light. and his smile is so big. “dude, that’s so dope!” he grins, “i didn’t know you were so into the ocean!” 

it was the bare minimum, being nice, but that was hard to find when it came to the majority of the male species. obviously, jungkook is above average, he only proves that the more time you spend with him. 

“oh, i love it! my parents would bring me to the beach and i would cry every time we would have to leave, aquariums too, and the fish section in the pet stores.” you gush, leaning into the table to tell jungkook more. he leans into his hand, resting his cheek against his fist as he listens to you spill your knowledge and love. 

he notes that the next date should be at the beach or an aquarium. it was a great time for him to learn this, especially since it was summer. the weather in favor of the cold ocean waves. jungkook swears he can listen to you talk until the end of time. your sweet voice can be the narration to his life, he’d never get sick of it. 

the food on both of your plates had been cleared, the conversation sizzling into a comfortable silence before the man came back to give you the bill. jungkook doesn’t let you see it, instead just sticking his card in the black folder thing, and giving it back to the fancy suit man. it wasn’t long before he came back, handing jungkook back his card and giving the both of you a lollipop with gold flakes encased inside. 

you gasp at the piece of candy, now that was ridiculous. you weren’t one to reject a lollipop though, gratefully taking the candy and popping it into your mouth. jungkook does the same. it tastes of blueberry. at this point he stands up, moving in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “let’s look around? i heard they have a cool museum on the second floor.” 

you take his hand, “i love museums!” the two of you make your way to the elevator, the man (he never told you his name) kept the door open for you both. he presses the second floor button when jungkook asks him for the museum. the elevator landing on the second floor, the doors slide open to show a completely empty art hall. this place shocking you every chance it gets. you didn’t think it could get better, but it did. 

when the two of you exit the elevator, the man leaves you to it, taking the elevator down and leaving you alone. your eyes scan the place, huge paintings on the walls, small paintings in collages, some sculptures on the floor, it felt like a pop-up museum. you both make your way down the enormous hallway, both sides of the room’s wall displaying works of art. you stop at one specific painting, the familiar work has you spewing random facts. “these are the lovers! i had to analyze this once,” you speak. the art displaying a couple kissing, both of their heads covered by a white sheet. “the real one is in australia, i think.” you laugh, tapping the lollipop against your lips. 

jungkook listens intently, but he doesn’t pay attention to the painting on the wall. everytime he does, his eyes always revert to you. the art doesn’t stand a chance against you in his book. you, yourself, were a piece of art, one that was rare in this world, one of a kind. 

he can’t seem to resist. taking your hand and raising it over your head, the way that they do in ballroom dancing. if a twirl was what he wanted, then so he got it. “beautiful,” he compliments, pulling you in close for a hug. the two of you swaying in the middle of the hall of this stupidly expensive restaurant. 

you look up to him, making full eye contact as the two of you lean on one foot to the other. probably looking like a lovesick couple, getting lost in the moment. which, you were. your eyes flicker from his eyes down to his lips, he seems to do the same thing. his hand moves to caress your face, the swaying ceased. now the two of you are centimeters apart, noses brushing against each other. if jungkook doesn’t kiss you now, he thinks he’ll combust. so when he feels you pushing forward, he does the same, meeting you in the middle. your lips connect. the kiss almost identical to the painting in front of you. 

jungkook swears he felt himself levitating. your lips are sweet, the blueberry flavor of the lollipop lingering on them. he’s had his fair share of kisses in his life. makeouts, pecks, cheek kisses, all types of kisses. but something about this one tells him that he’s in for it. he’ll never be able to get enough now that he’s gotten a taste. 

neither of you want to take it too far; swallowing each other's faces in a distinguished, five star restaurant’s museum didn’t seem very proper. so the two of you make your way out of the building, thanking everyone at the front desk, especially the man that helped you out today, and walking into the parking garage where jungkook’s car was. 

when you get to his car, he moves to open the passenger door for you but you stop him with a hand on his arm. you reach to open the back door handle and his eyes almost bulge out. everyone knows what happens in the backseat, and jungkook did not prepare himself for something like this. 

you look up at him with the most innocent eyes, but there’s something devious hidden in your smile when you ask, “do you wanna talk for a bit longer? in the backseat? it’s more comfortable than sitting in the front.” 

jungkook never took you for someone this bold. it’s either you didn’t know the meaning of the backseat (which was totally fine) or you knew very well, and had plans to devour jungkook (which was also totally fine).

he chickens out, his hands starting to sweat. “do you want to just go for a little walk or something?” it’s not like jungkook didn’t want anything to happen, it’s that he did. if he starts, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from it. he walks a tightrope around you when it comes to his self control. one wrong move, and he’s terrified that he’ll fuck everything up. 

“oh, it’s just my feet kinda hurt from these heels.” you pout, lifting you foot up to show him the almost stiletto heel. 

his eyes widen. why didn’t he think of that? “oh— oh shit, i didn’t even— yeah, let’s sit.” he tugs on the door, letting you slide into the back seat. he follows, leaving a good amount of space between you both to make sure that there was nothing too suspicious going on. you hope your bold moves hide your nervousness, despite your confidence, jungkook’s unsure looks make you want to curl up into a ball. did he not want this? 

the air was different now. in the restaurant the two of you had been so carefree, slow dancing in the museum, and landing a sweet kiss on each other’s lips. but now, an uncomfortable silence tears at the two of you. your hesitance makes you speak, trying to see if a conversation would ease the tension in the air. “i had a lot of fun tonight, kookie, thank you.” 

it seems to comfort jungkook, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. with a small smile on his face he replies, “me too, i was really nervous you wouldn’t like the food.” 

“oh it was good! i’ll eat anything really, it’s just—“

“you didn’t like the place? was it too much—“

“no, jungkook, oh my god— i loved it, it was just really expensive, i still feel really bad about you paying for all of it,” you look to him seriously. “let me give you at least my half?” 

he shakes his head, “i asked you out on this date, it means i pay, don’t worry about the price.” 

you roll your eyes playfully, “big spender huh?”

a pretty laugh escapes his lips. “hard worker too.” 

to this you smile, you stare at his impossibly-perfect face, noticing a stray eyelash on his cheek. you see a chance to strike and you take it immediately. you lean forward to swipe it off. jungkook almost leans into your touch. he’s so terrified that he’ll embarrass himself right now, so he’s been holding back tremendously. but the way you pick the eyelash off and place it on your thumb with a smile on your face, it eases most of the tension in his chest. 

“make a wish!” you hold your thumb up to his lips. his eyes cross to look at the piece of hair on your finger, but nevertheless he obliged. shutting his eyes tight, making a wish, and blowing the eyelash off of your thumb. 

you let out a small cheer before you ask him, “what’d you wish for?” 

“if i told you then my wish wouldn’t come true, right?” he boops your nose. suddenly, jungkook doesn’t feel so nervous. his nerves calming at the feeling of your soft hands against his face. you make him so nervous, but at the same time you make him so comfortable and make him want to be himself. it seems as though the two of you were staring at each other for a while. jungkook was thinking about how much he likes you, the same ideas run through your mind. the thoughts make you wish for something more. 

“can i kiss you again, kookie?” 

he stares at you, weighing his options. if he kisses you now, then he has to strategically only give you a few kisses, he absolutely cannot make out with you, or else, jungkook will succumb to his desires.

but he takes a little too long to respond. the both of you overthinking the fuck out of the situation. it makes you draw back. “it’s okay if you don’t want—“ 

“no, no, please, kiss me,” he brings you back, moving closer to you. licking his lips in anticipation as you slowly push forward, closing the gap between you both. the kiss is so sweet, like the one in the museum. jungkook can still taste the blueberry lingering on your lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing you. 

you pull away first. your eyes scanning his face to see any expression of regret. there’s none. his hand moves to the side of your face, caressing your face and bringing you to him once again to meet your lips. he can’t get enough. “tell me what you wished for, please,” you speak against his lips. 

he smiles into the kiss. he wasn’t going to tell you, but since you were asking so nicely, he gives you a kiss on the cheek when he answers, “i wished for a second date.” 

“oh, didn’t you know?” you kiss both of his cheeks before speaking again, “i grant wishes,” with wink.

“fuck, you’re so cute,” he thinks out loud, it makes you blush. pink cheeks out for show and jungkook thinks you look even cuter. he dives in for one more kiss, telling himself this will be the last one, but when you make sweet noises against his lips, it has him wanting more. hands moving down to your waist, pulling you in and letting you climb onto his lap. he pulls away first, trying to get a hold of himself. “i uh— actually, didn’t plan for this to happen,“ he mumbles against your skin, tripping over his words. 

you look down, arms wrapped around his neck. “hm? what did you plan?” 

“we were supposed to kiss on the next date i take you on and i didn’t think— we’re just ahead of schedule, that’s all.” jungkook tries to explain that he didn’t want to rush it, god no. he wanted to take his time, make sure that you didn’t feel pressured to do anything. but now, it seems like you’re taking the wheel and jungkook doesn’t mind it one bit.

“oh so you had like a real plan? like times and everything?” the thought of it makes you laugh, and the way that jungkook flushes makes you want to pinch his cheeks. 

he pouts when you giggle, “don’t laugh, i just really, really wanted to do it right, you’re just so amazing and i didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

you smile at his concern. the fact that you have the uni heartthrob planning dates in his head down to the details and wanting to be sure he does it right makes your head spin. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the way that your heart is beating three times the normal rate when you go to kiss him again. the only sounds in the car are labored breaths and your lips smacking together. it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into him. his growing bulge rubbing against your soaking core. a groan leaving him when you grind particularly harder, his hands moving to your ass to grip it. you melt in his arms, small whimpers leaving your throat as jungkook drinks them up

you pull away from his lips, giving his cheeks attention then leaving a trail of kisses as you make your way to his ear. one final kiss is planted below his earlobe before you whisper, “am i ruining your plans, kookie?” 

jungkook tries his best to conceal his groan, tries his best to ignore his incredibly hard dick in his jeans, but you’re so pretty and you’re on top of him, kissing him. it feels like a dream to jungkook. it is quite literally a dream come true. 

he was already playing with fire, your body a flame in the cold, he moves closer and closer until he burns. “fuck plans,” he breathes. a hand comes back to caress your face once again. filthy thoughts flooding his brain. he wonders what being in between your legs is like, what you sound like when you cum. he wants to make you cry and beg for his cock. but he holds himself back, knowing that you’ll have time to try everything out, if you wanted of course. he leans the both of you forward, his large hands splayed on your back to secure you on his lap. your lips find each other once more. “can i touch you?” he asks so sweetly, a hidden poison weaving through that you can slightly hear through the deep rumble of his voice. 

you’ve never wanted anything more. “please,” you nod. your lips chasing his when he pulls further away. 

jungkook smiles at the action. “lay on my lap, baby.” he instructs, tapping your thigh. the nickname rolling off his tongue, his voice seemingly dropping an entire octave. you raise your leg and move it over to sit on his lap, sideways. your back against the car door and his right hand rubbing your thighs ever so gently. 

“like this?” you ask, looking to him for reassurance. he looks to you with eyes that you’ve never seen, lusted and dark. 

“mhm, perfect,” he nods. “good girl.” the praise goes straight to your belly, your panties flooding from how much you want him. his hands move slowly down your inner thighs as he goes in to kiss you again. 

you’re absentmindedly spreading your legs, making room for him. he smirks against your lips when he realizes. he knows what you want, so his fingers move to your panties, lightly putting pressure over your clothed bud. you whimper at the feeling, biting his lip in the process. he moans in response, putting a little more pressure against your bundle of nerves. 

“jungkook,�� you whine, pulling away from his lips, “please.” 

“please what, baby?” he kisses your cheek, “tell me what you want.”  

“please touch me, please.” you beg, making eye contact with him. jungkook’s dick twitches at the sound of your begging. he wanted to string you along a little longer, but you’re being so good. 

“since you asked so nicely, baby,” he obliges. bunching your dress up around your waist and noticing the pretty black lace underwear you were wearing, “for me?” he asks. you nod, your teeth taking in your bottom lip. he groans at the thought, you getting ready and picking out these cute, risque panties out just for him. it’s just too bad they’re gonna be on the floor on his car. he’s gonna need to ask for a rain check on admiring you and your cute underwear later.  

you lift your hips to help him, underwear coming off to reveal your soaking pussy. “oh, fuck,” jungkook murmurs at the sight of it. “you’re so wet baby.” he almost starts drooling, he can’t wait to taste you, but he’s still hesitant, only wanting to do what you want to. next time, he can eat you out. right now, he’ll admire the delicious sight and make you cum on his fingers. 

your eyes travel to the window directly in front of you, suddenly feeling insecure. thighs closing, thinking about how someone could look in and see. “what about the windows—“ 

“they’re tinted, no one can see from the outside in, i promise.” he reassures, giving you another sweet kiss on the cheek before asking, “do you still want to do this? we can stop now.” he’s so lovely, his concern and change in demeanor only making you want it more, knowing that he wouldn’t want to push you to do something you were uncomfortable with. sweet was sexy on jungkook. you never thought there would be a day that jeon jungkook fingers you in a parking lot of a five star restaurant, but here you are. and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

so you shake your head, taking his hand, and placing it back in between your legs. “please.” 

“anything for you.” he whispers in your ear before running his middle finger up your slit, collecting your wetness, and spreading it around your clit. he continues making tight circles on your clit, the sensation drives you crazy. you lean your head back against the window, moaning out. it was almost humiliating how reactive you were, you hadn’t indulged in this kind of intimacy in a while, almost a year to be specific. 

it wasn’t helping that jungkook was a fucking pro. the right amount of pressure and the placement of his digits against you has you dripping onto his nice, dress pants. you hoped nobody else was in the parking garage, else they would hear your cries of jungkook’s name. “more, kookie, more— fuck.” 

“more baby?” he questions, the sound of your moans going straight to his already hard dick. he thinks he could cum just to the sound of your voice. he’s one hundred percent fucked when it comes to you. he dips his middle finger into your hole, you gasp in reaction. “like that? hmm? ” 

jungkook knew was he was doing, he had you spread wide in the backseat of his car, already on the verge on an orgasm. he had a few years of experience on his belt, a ‘retired fuck boy’ he was, but he’s never wanted to please somebody more than he does right now with you. you just looked so pretty like this, so eager and begging for more. 

he adds his ring finger now, his thumb against your clit. “oh, god—“ you mutter, the feeling of his fingers and his thumb on your clit is too good. his fingers fucking you better than anyone else’s dick ever has. you found yourself bucking your hips against his fingers. “kookie, kiss me, please,” you look up to him with the eyes he can never fucking deny. so he kisses you, drinking up your moans as you fuck yourself up onto his fingers. 

“i didn’t know you were such a dirty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. your walls clenching around him, “letting me touch you like this in the backseat of my car?” his usual sweet demeanor now contorting into this cocky guy with an ego. it makes you even wetter. the squelch of your pussy every time his fingers push in is loud, the sound is music to jungkook’s ears. 

“only— only for you, jungkook,” you whimper.  you feel a familiar knot in your stomach tighten. he looked so hot like this. eager to please. his bottom lip caught in his teeth and a strand of his long hair dangling in front of his eyes. 

“good girl, all mine,” he kisses your neck. it may seem just like something you say during sex, but jungkook wanted it to be true. wanted you and only you. all to himself. he makes his way to a sweet spot, the feeling makes you tilt your head, giving him more access to kiss and suck along the sensitive skin. the discomfort of your back against the hard door was the last of your worries. your orgasm creeping closer and closer, juices leaking all overs his fingers. “so wet baby,” he growls, “i know i could just slide in, fuck you so good.” 

“p-please, i want it.” the thought of jungkook fucking you senseless, oh, you’d go crazy. begging wasn’t something you did when it came to sex, most of the time it was quiet, moans and breaths were the only things that you’d hear, no dirty words or praises. it was a good change, you never thought that you’d be so into being talked through it. 

he smiles at your eagerness, “patience baby, gotta take you on another date, yeah?” kissing your pursed lips. always so sweet and lovely. 

you feel his fingers push a little deeper, curling to find that sweet spot inside of you. your reaction does something to him, makes him hit the exact same spot, over and over again, in a slow, torturous beat just so he can draw those delicious gasps and moans out of you. jungkook feels close. he’s never felt like this before, so wound up. he ignores it, pushing it to the back of his head to focus on helping you reach your climax. 

lucky for jungkook, he didn’t have to wait very long. his fingers were longer and a thicker than yours, his efforts making you get there faster than you ever could. the consistent deep strokes of his fingers make the warning signals go off in your head. you speak a verbal warning before, “fuck, i’m gonna cum,” your voice pitches a little higher than usual. 

“gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” he gives you one last sloppy kiss before you’re moaning out and coming onto his fingers, eyes screwed shut as your walls convulse rapidly as his fingers fuck you through your orgasm. “fuck, you’re so hot, ___.” 

you feel a smile break on your face. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you wink, still trying to catch your breath. a laugh slips from his mouth, small smirk on his mouth to match. he slips his fingers out, your body twitching at the over stimulation. 

 “i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. inspecting his fingers, your pale almost-white cum coating the digits. he brings them to his mouth, sucking on your sweet sap. you’ve never seen anything hotter in your life. “sweet, just like you,” he smirks. you shrink in his stare, hiding your blush. like you totally didn’t just cum on his fingers. 

you’re distracted by the feeling of something hard resting under your thigh, it’s then that you realize, “what about—“ you start but jungkook cuts you off quick. 

“no, no, it’s okay, it’ll go away soon.” he shakes his head, but you furrow your eyebrows. 

you pull on his black tie, making him lean forward and make eye contact with you “can i?” you ask, so sweetly. 

he stares at you with the most sexed eyes you’ve ever witnessed. “you’re driving me crazy.” 

“you’re always so sweet to me, jungkook,” you kiss his cheek. readjusting yourself in his lap, straddling him once more. “took me on this amazing dinner, always treating me like a princess.” your lips travel down from his cheeks to his jawline, then to his neck. he shudders at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. your hands move from around his neck to travel further down, to the latch of his belt. his breath hitches. “let me return the favor, kookie.”

“i—“ he laughs, the embarrassment evident in the pink tint on his face. “i won’t last very long.” 

you didn’t mind, just assuring him with a sweet kiss on the cheek before you start removing his belt. jungkook leans his head back on the headrest, his neck exposed for you to kiss and suck. you unbutton and unzip, pulling his pants and his boxers down at the same time. his size makes your eyes bulge. he was huge. your mouth waters at the sight. 

“you’re so big, kook.” you egg him on, fueling his ego because he just looked so hot. your hand moves to hold him at the base, he lets out a shaky breath when your soft skin meets his. jungkook’s head is in the clouds, he could cum right now if he let go, but he’s holds himself back, not wanting to look like a fool in front of you. your hand moves up his dick, your thumb collecting the precum dripping from his hole, your thumb running over his slit as he groans. 

his hips buck up, “shit, baby.” he just sounds so good. you could just lick him up. you collect some saliva in your mouth, letting it drip from your mouth onto his dick to lube your hand. he groans at the sight, “you’re so filthy, baby, holy shit.” 

you smirk at the admission, the spit making it so easy for your hand to glide against his cock. the feeling makes him throw his head back again. his chest rising and falling.  the picture of him with his eyes screwed shut in pleasure and his mouth agape makes your lower belly light up once more, you clench around nothing. leaning in as you pump his cock to whisper in his ear, “wanna fuck me so bad? have me crying on your cock? you want that, don’t you, kookie?” 

jungkook twitches at your words. that’s exactly what he wants. was he that easy to read? was that what you wanted too? the thought of it makes him want to explode, “oh— god, ffuck— fuck,” he sputters. his hand coming up to hover above his head, your hand still pumping as the spurts of his cum shoot out. you smile at the action, knowing he didn’t wanna fuck up your dress. instead just making a mess of him and his hand. he takes deep breaths before speaking, “there’s a little box of tissues in the center console, could you hand it to me, baby?” 

you lean back, opening the console and reaching for the small box that sits in the center. before you give it to him, your eyes flicker to the sticky mess all over jungkook’s hand and groin. a sudden urge to lick takes you over, holding jungkook’s hand and bringing it up to your mouth. you lick the dripping cum from the palm of his hand as he watches, maintaining eye contact the entire time. 

jungkook shivers, a smile creeping on his face, “you— you’re evil.” the remark makes you laugh. 

“sorry, just wanted to help clean up.” you smile, swallowing the cum you collected on your tongue. 

“yeah, yeah, you’re not the sweet girl i thought you were,” jungkook quirks a brow. 

you roll your eyes playfully, “you don’t like it?” 

“nope, i love it, you’re perfect.” jungkook wipes off the remaining mess from his lap and his hand. you help him clean up tissues and he picks up your panties that were discarded on the floor. the two of you fix yourselves before stepping out of the back seat, jungkook opens the passenger door for you before he goes to a trashcan and throws away the soiled tissues. 

he joins you back in the car, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. you were rambling about how happy you were that no one was around and how there were no security cameras in the parking garage. jungkook blabbers too, telling you about how embarrassed he is that he barely lasted a few minutes. before the two of you knew it, his car parked in front of your apartment complex. 

he stands outside of your front door, leaning against the doorframe. all dreamy and not like he just made you cum in the backseat of his car. “text me before you sleep?” he smiles. 

you nod, “of course,” reflecting the same smile. you wave before closing your door. the date being more than you ever expected. there was no way jungkook was real. he had to be a figment of your imagination, he was the absolute dream guy. 

you lay in bed, staring at the stars on your ceiling. a blush creeping up to your cheeks once more when you think about the events that took place tonight. 

[11:02 pm] you: thank you for tonight, jungkook 

[11:02 pm] you: it was magical <3 

[11:03 pm] jungkook: no problem cutie, i had an amazing time with you

[11:04 pm] jungkook: feeling okay? 

[11:06 pm] you: i’m great!!! more than okay

[11:07 pm] jungkook: 😂

[11:07 pm] jungkook: i’m glad cutie

[11:08 pm] you: lunch on me next time? now that you’ve taken me for dinner :) 

[11:08 pm] jungkook: sure, i’m down :) 

[11:09 pm] you: i’m rlly tired kookie 

[11:10 pm] you: gonna head to sleep now 

[11:10 pm] jungkook: alright cutie 

[11:11 pm] jungkook: sweet dreams! 

｡ﾟ(ﾟ^Ｏ^ﾟ)ﾟ｡ tag list: @giadalin @ggukkieland

[likeitloveitblogit]

Lokitty

I was inspired by this post by @high-functioning-lokipath to create my own version of a Lokitty fic. Definitely not a new idea, but isn't that the fun of fanfiction? Taking something you know and love and making it your own.

Pairing: Loki x gn!Reader

Summary: You've taken a job at the Avengers Compound. When your conversation about your homesickness is overhead, comfort comes from an unlikely furry friend.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Fluff, literally and figuratively. A touch of angst. Homesickness.

What to expect: My favorite brand of "stay with me" which seems to be all I want to write lately. And you know what I'm ok with that. We could all use some more soft boi Loki cuddles in our lives.

As a kid, everyone thought you were crazy for obsessing over blades. Your parents worried about you when the interest didn't fade as you got older. But it was never about violence, you just thought blades were beautiful and elegant. That's what drew you to Loki, he was everything you loved about blades made flesh. He was beautiful and elegant, sharp and deadly. On one hand it seemed Loki was equally drawn to you. Helping you clean weapons or just sitting in your forge watching you work. Discussing uses for different weapons, analysing fighting styles and comparing your favorites from each of your own personal collections. The two of you would talk for hours about blades, but it never went beyond that. Never discussing anything personal. Not that you didn't want to share, but you never knew how to move the conversations with him in that direction. You knew Loki had had a difficult life, so discussing your relatively happy childhood seemed somehow cruel. Instead you stuck to all things blades.

The last few months felt unreal. You had been so excited when you'd gotten the call. Edged weapons specialist for the Avengers team, it was your dream job. It would be your responsibility to handle anything to do with edged weapons. (Like daggers, swords, katanas, kukris, chakram, etc.) Everything from purchasing and maintaining, to training all the team members in the uses of various bladed weapons. Tony's explosive weapons tech is all good and well, but it's important to have options. Fury wanted to ensure all team members could defend themselves if their other skills faltered.

At first you were worried about moving all the way across the country to live in the Avengers Compound. But you understood how important the job was. And you knew that living in the Compound made the most sense. The Avengers did not operate on a normal 9 to 5 weekday schedule, so you needed to be available anytime. Your lessons needed to fit in between their other training and missions. Whatever time the team needed to leave for a mission, they needed weapons ready. And whenever they returned the weapons needed cleaning and repair. Despite his protests that he could just buy more blades, Tony had built you your own forge for any of the more changing repairs.

Despite not joining them on the missions, the team had welcomed you as one of their own. Including you at meal times, trips down to New York City, parties, game nights, and your personal favorite movie nights. Tonight was one of those movie nights. Everyone wrapped in blankets, scattered on couches and chairs. If the crowd got too big, like it had tonight, some even sprawled out on the floor. Plenty of popcorn, there was even a movie theater style popcorn machine. Plus snacks and drinks galore.

It was Wanda's turn to choose the movie. Tony owned nearly every movie in existence and subscribed to nearly every service, so the possibilities were endless. But everyone figured she'd either go for an old sitcom or a Disney movie.

"I choose The Aristocats" Wanda finally called out.

"Isn't that a kids movie?" Tony grumbled from where he sat cuddled up with Pepper.

Pepper elbowed him, "hush Tony. It's an American classic."

"Fine, Jarvis play Aristocats"

Back at home Aristocats was one of your favorite movies to watch with your family. The cats reminded you of your own cat, Phillip. Before moving into the Compound, you had never been away from your hometown for longer than a week at a time. But with the whirlwind of new responsibilities, the first several months had already flown by. Now sitting here watching the happy cats on the screen, you were struck by such a strong feeling of homesickness you had to leave the room.

Seeing you flee, Wanda followed you into the kitchen.

"Hey, Y/N. What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I just miss my family. And home. It's stupid but I think I miss Phillip the most. My bed feels so empty without him there to cuddle."

Rather loudly Wanda asks "your CAT Phillip?"

"Is something wrong Wanda, you know Phillip is my cat. Why did you say cat so loudly?"

"Just, I just realized that it must be hard for you to watch a movie about cats, when you're missing your cat. Sorry I didn't mean to upset you."

"Oh don't worry. You didn't know. Heck I didn't even realize how homesick I was until now."

"Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I think I'm just going to go back to my room for the night."

You hug Wanda, and leave the kitchen, making it back to your room just before the floodgates of tears start pouring out. You flop down onto your bed, and bury your face in your pillows. After a while you feel a gentle nudge on your arm. You sit up to see a small black cat looking up at you.

"Oh hello there. Where did you come from?"

The cat simply bumps it's head up against your hand. You pet it, scratching behind its ears.

"You are a very pretty kitty." It doesn't have a collar, so you wonder if it snuck in through one of the big hanger doors.

"You remind me of my kitty back home." You suck in a sob threatening to hit, hiccuping instead.

The cat jumps into your lap, kneading your leg, and rubbing its head against your arm for more pets. You giggle and the cat begins to purr. As you pet the cat and listen to its soft purrs you feel yourself relaxing. Eventually you fall asleep with the cat cuddled up against your side.

As the first rays of sunshine hits your face you regret not turning off your wake up call. You'd set it for JARVIS to open your curtains in the morning. Knowing that normally the warm bright sunlight was a peaceful way to wake up. Alarm clocks just made you grumpy in the morning.

Groggy and a bit dehydrated from crying the night before, you slowly opened your eyes. It took you far longer than it should have to notice the arm wrapped around your waist. And clearly you were still partly asleep because your first instinct was not to look at the face of the man who the arm belonged to. Instead you picked up the arm and looked under it searching for the small cat. Afraid that this human shaped object, that had still not registered as a person, had crushed the cat in the night.

Satisfied that the kitty was not under the arm, you set it down and got up to look under the bed.

"Kitty? Here kitty, kitty, kitty?"

From your spot crawling on the floor looking for the cat, you heard a raspy voice call "why is it so bright in here? It's too early to be this bright in here."

"Loki?

"Oh, Y/N? What brings you to my…," Loki looked down from the bed "uh, floor?"

"This is my floor."

Loki looks around and realizes that it is in fact your room.

"I suppose it is. Then I should ask what are you doing on your floor?"

"I'm looking for the little black cat that was in here last night. And really I should be the one asking you what you're doing in my bed?"

"Ah well that's the thing. Last night when I came here I was the little black cat. So ta-da, you've found me!" Loki puts his hands up like he's done a magic trick.

"What do you mean you were the black cat? How is that even possible?"

"You know that I have shape shifting powers. Well that includes the ability to change into the form of animals."

"Like an animorph?"

"A what?"

"Nevermind. Why did you change into a cat?"

"Last night I heard you talking to Wanda about missing your home. So I thought having a cat to pet might make you feel better. Since I don't have a way to bring your cat here, I made myself into one. I must have slipped back into my Asgardian form while I slept."

"Oh", tears started to prick the corners of your eyes again.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to upset you. I'll go."

"Wait, you didn't upset me. That was really sweet, these are happy tears. Why did you do it?"

"I heard you were missing your cat and I wanted to comfort you."

"You do make a very cute cat. But you could have just comforted me as yourself."

"What could I have done as myself? I'm not really what anyone would call comforting."

"That's ridiculous, you're very comforting to me."

Now it was Loki's turn to hold back tears, and you quickly scramble up to sit next to him. Your hand reaches up without thinking and brushes away a tear. Loki holds your hand against his check, unwilling to break the touch.

"That's nice of you to say but I know you think I'm just some kind of brute."

"Loki, what in the world would make you think that?"

"When you talk with the others, you talk about everything including your past. But with me, you only ever talk about blades. Don't get me wrong I could talk daggers with you for the rest of eternity and not get bored, but… oh nevermind. Forget I said anything." Loki drops your hand, looking down at his lap. He picks at the inside of his palm, avoiding your gaze.

You reach your hand back up and lift his chin so he's looking at you. "Oh, Loki. I'm so sorry, I feel so stupid. I didn't realize you felt that way."

"Y/N. It's fine. Just, really forget I said something." Loki tries to look away but you hold tight. The look in Loki's eyes is pleading, "Let's go down to breakfast, the others are going to wonder where you are." Loki's eyes look at the door but he makes no move to get up.

"No Loki, it's not fine. Please listen." You release your grip on Loki so you can reach over and grab a dagger off your nightstand. Flipping the dagger around in your hand, you start to speak. "For as long as I can remember I have always loved blades. At the same time I've never been especially good with people. Blades have always been there for me, people not so much. Whenever I did something extra embarrassing I could practice throwing daggers until I forget my words. Or if someone bullied me, or made me angry I could go into the forge and picture the steel as their face. And yeah I've gotten better with people, I've had to. Moving into this compound full of extroverts has forced me to be more open then sometimes I really liked to be.

From the moment I met you, something felt different. Loki, you remind me so much of a finely crafted dagger. Lean, sharp, dangerous, elegant, and comforting. So deeply comforting. Everytime you help clean weapons with me or just sit in the forge with me, I feel a weight lifting off of my chest. I didn't want to mess that up." You look up at Loki and wait for his response.

"Wow, I don't know what to say."

You pause for a moment, "Blades are my passion," you hold up the dagger, "blades are my life and I share them with you" setting the dagger in Loki's hand, "because I want to share my passions with you. I want to share my life with you." Worried you've gone too far, you look into Loki's eyes expecting to see regret or pity. But instead Loki looks back with hope before tilting his head and leaning down to kiss you. It's soft and gentle and everything you'd ever wanted a kiss from Loki to be.

"I feel like I've missed so much. I just thought that you never talked about your past with me because you didn't trust me."

"Oh god no, of course not. I trust you with my life. I was just afraid to share my past with you because I knew your life has been hard. I didn't want to make you feel bad about your history."

"Y/N. That is the sweetest and most unnecessary thing I've ever heard. I want to listen to every single story you have to tell me. Your positive experiences are not my loss. Your happiness makes me nothing but happy."

Again your lips find each other, planting sloppy joyful kisses. Breaking away from the kisses you smile at each other, stupid happy smiles.

"This was clearly Wanda's idea. Right?"

"Not entirely, well yes actually entirely. How did you know?"

"Choosing Aristocats. Then she practically screamed cat, cat, cat, cat while we were in the kitchen."

"Ehehe, yeah. Last week she saw me moping about waiting for you to finish training. She pried it out of me how much I cared for, but that I thought you didn't feel the same way. So she came up with this plan and clearly she is a genius."

"Remind me later to send her a thank you note. For now, more cuddles." You crawl back to your spot in bed dragging Loki with you.

"What about breakfast?"

"Breakfast's not for another hour. Normally I get in an early morning workout, but today feels like a good day to sleep in."

"I knew it was too early to be this bright" Loki grumbles under his breath as cuddles closer to you.

A few weeks later

"Alright Y/N are you ready to go?" Waiting for you to get ready, Loki looks over the assortment of things on top of your dresser. Charging cords, half empty coffee mugs, notebooks, and random weapons. "Hey, is that my dagger? I've been looking for that one all week."

"Ta-da. You found it" you call as you finish tying your shoe and stand up. Walking over to wrap your arms around Loki, distracting him as you place the dagger back on your dresser.

"Aren't normal partners just supposed to steal your clothes?"

"First of all I'm anything but normal. And second, none of what you brought from Asgard would be considered steal-able clothing. That makes you the partner that steals clothes." You gesture towards your old university hoodie that Loki was currently wearing. "Anyway, where are we going?"

"The animal shelter, we're getting you a cat. And not to worry, I've approved it with Tony."

"I don't need a cat, I have you, remember?" You look up at him and wink.

"Darling as much as I love cuddling with you as a cat. I much prefer cuddling you in this form."

"What, you don't like my pets?" You reach up and rub your fingers through his hair.

He preens into your touch, and nearly purrs before stopping himself. "This is the problem. You've had me transform into a cat every day this week. I'm starting to think like a cat."

"Is that such a bad thing? What can you do that can't be done as a cat?"

"So many things. For example I can't do this as a cat." Loki rests his hand on your lower back, dips you down and kisses you.

"Mmm. You're right, that might be worth it. But maybe you should try that one more time just to be sure."

Once you two finally stop kissing you head to the animal shelter. Where you find two cats ready to adopt.

Arms wrapped around you from behind, with his head resting on top of yours, Loki asked "What should we call them?"

"I'm going to name them after two of my favorite things." Pointing to the tortoise shell patterned cat, "Dagger."

Pointing at the black cat Loki asked "Let me guess, Sword?"

"No, her name is Lokitty."

You could feel the smile on Loki's face where it rested on the top of your head.

"Purrrfect." Loki purrs in your ear.

-----------------------&----------------------

A/N: I wrote that this character was an "edgeded weapons specialist". And honestly I completely took that term from "Forged in Fire", I don't know what exactly that would mean in the world of the Avengers. Mostly anything to do with it edged weapons. *shrugs*

Also bonus points to anyone who can name whose cats I based the tortoise shell and black kitties after.

[thewiscryptid]

SHE’S SO BROKEN INSIDE -- C - R - A - Z - Y !!

a reboot of my sentence starters for crazy ex girlfriend season 1 please change any pronouns/words to make it more applicable for your usage! some mature themes apply!

“This is what Happy feels like. This is what I’m supposed to feel like.”

“Why aren’t you happy?!”

“You didn’t even break skin and you inconvenienced a lot of people.”

“Remember you said that if I was in the neighborhood I should give you a buzz? Well… BUZZ!”

“I’m taking a few of these until my business cards come in, just so if anyone asks why I’m here, I can say ‘It’s for work! It’s legitimate!.”

“Because you’re pretty and you’re smart and you’re ignoring me so you’re obviously my type.”

“I’m not good for much but I do know it’s not right to hook up with a crying girl.”

“You half Italian? I can always tell.”

“He should be a search term on porn sites.”

“He made me feel warm inside— like glitter was exploding inside me.”

“I’m not in love. That would be stupid.”

“I’m crazy and I’m irrational and I’m everything my mother ever said I was.”

“If we play this right, it’s gonna hit him like a bag of nails to the balls.”

“Could we have a postmortem on the whole make out-crying situation?”

“Bras are in aisle one.”

“I’m going to gracefully exeunt and be chased….by a bear.”

“Maybe I will throw my saddle on that filly and take her for a ride around the paddock. ...Wow. Men are disgusting.”

“They spread a rumor that I slept with the English teacher! Which was totally a lie because we only did hand stuff!”

“Of course we’re friends because what other agenda could I possibly have?”

“I want to cut the silky hair right off your head and slurp it up like spaghetti.”

“We were just being cute! Cute kissing! For attention!”

“I can’t be friends with women. Everyone wants to have sex with me!”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that telling the truth from the beginning was probably the right option.”

“Luna bars are for women. I think they have menstrual blood in them or something.”

“A true friend loves you no matter what, even if your downward dog is horrible.”

“Now, if someone pulls a gun on me, I pull out my knife!”

“Come sit on my lap like I’m Santa and listen to me—”

“Put those things away, you’re going to poke a kid’s eye out.”

“I don’t leave when there’s whiskey left.”

“It was weird and sad and kinda beautiful in a pure and unironic way.”

“You’re really starting to fit in here. That’s not a compliment.”

“She’s seriously ‘bonker balls’.”

“The last thing you need right now is a conversation with a pathological narcissist!”

“How are you? UTIs under control?”

“Hey, don’t skate sad!”

“Let’s leave the children outta here for a sec.”

“Shut up, I love that fire! It’s my favorite fire!”

“How could a guy with a man bun know what’s authentic?!”

“You took some guy home from our date and SLEPT with him? What’s WRONG with you?!”

“I make no sense and you shouldn’t waste your time on me, can’t you see that?”

“I have an IQ of 164. On the entire SAT, I only got two questions wrong and in subsequent years, those questions were removed for being misleading.”

“You are a good person. He is a good person. …. We are good person.”

“What do you want me to say, people? That she doesn’t have the softest hair? And that I don’t watch her while she sleeps? Because I do! She’s an Angel.”

“She had flyaways! I can’t have her walking around like that.”

“You know I want to turn you in so much, because you’re an actual piece of human garbage.”

“Can I get a free beer? I’m down like $10,000.”

“My parents are alive. They’re just frigid and unloving.”

“Parents love brown nosers but men? Men love a woman who looks like me.”

“Chicken soup is just gross, hot, fat water.”

“I got a tongue scraper! Things are looking hhhhhhhexcellent.”

“Look at you, old man. You loooose! You have tubes in your face!”

“You promised me a drink and I got tired of waiting.”

“It was like Pearl Harbor meets the movie Pearl Harbor.”

“Why does Netflix always want me to watch Leaving Las Vegas? Is it trying to tell me something?”

“That basset hound could benefit from a juice cleanse.”

“Twilight is only the greatest love story since Shakespeare… in Love!”

“I needed that sage to cleanse the house of evil spirits. Ghosts are obsessed with me.”

“Do I really need to tell you to not take a pill from off the bathroom floor?!”

“I’m not going to listen to you. You talk silly.”

“I’m half of him so I am half of what you hate!”

“I’m glad you stood up to me because when the Cossack’s come, I know you’ll survive!”

“I want to melt into the chair like a butter lady.”

“Get realsies with me or I’m outskies.”

“Thanks for showing my boyfriend your cervix.”

“Charm and wit is a weird name for your boobs.”

“Where am I? Who am I? Am I in the Matrix? Am I Neo?”

“If you can’t even send me a whole word, then I’m not taking my clothes off for you. At least send an emoji. A chipmunk eating a block of cheese. I get that. I’m coming over.”

“Be the boat. Don’t be the hole. Nobody likes the hole.”

“Oh, you know what people say. One person’s blackmail is another person’s love story.”

“Okay, you can sleep at the foot of my bed tonight. Like a dog. …. Please don’t look so excited.”

“Oh, I don’t like her. She looks like she orders everything on the side.”

“He looks like a Kennedy. But a sober one.”

“What’s a pretty, showered girl like you doing here?”

“I think my life is a giant turd.”

“Why doesn’t he love me? Why doesn’t anyone love me? Why am I so alone?”

“I don’t want to say I don’t like anyone as much as you … but I just said it.”

“Love does not last in my life. I’m loveless.”

“I want to haunt Hitler and make him rethink a few things.”

“She’s not just a kid! She’s your daughter, you ass!”

“Oh, come on! Let’s make bad decisions together! We could run into traffic!”

“I’m not a sourpuss. I’m pensive and deep.”

“Are we being pleasant now? Sorry. I don’t know your rules.”

“He has the flat top of a Greek God.”

“If it were any other situation, I would take off my heels, my earrings and my extensions and curb stomp you.”

“Chasing someone who isn’t into you is a terrible move.”

“You have been Single White Female-ing me since you got here.”

“I have, like, the smartest face here.”

“Boo work and life and clothing.”

“You need to realize that ‘U up?’ is text speak for ‘are you horny?’.”

“You gotta force love, everyone knows that.”

“You weirdo face, put me down!”

“You just scooped me up like a basket of muffins…— PUT ME DOWN!”

“Why is he always talking about his theater major?! I know a lot of theater majors! They don’t talk about it! They just are!”

“I appreciate you Schwarzenegger-ing out back there.”

[brainmaniaman]

WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER (Bertolt Hoover/Reader)

TITLE: WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER PAIRING: bertolt hoover/reader, light choking(?) TAGS: semi-public sex, female-bodied reader TRIGGER WARNINGS?: kind of mean and unhealthy y/n interactions (very light) w baby bertolt but on god it's part of the plot, very slight dubcon? idk if it can be interpreted that way but it's tagged for safety AU: idk modern au b/c i fuck hard with those DECSRIPTION: yes i believe in bottom bertolt supremacy but one of my friends gave me this idea like okay hear me out, y/n has been straight up blue-balling her boyfriend for quite some time, and it's getting frustrating, so he swallows his nervousness and, per suggestion of his good friend eren, decides to make even in the middle of the movie theater. by the way i am TIRED of everyone having eren hating on bertolt they would be GOOD FRIENDS in a modern au. WORD COUNT: 2,233

"Hey, Eren . . . I have a question" Bertolt looked like he was going to crawl out of his skin as he sat on the opposite end of the couch in the basement, his hands resting on his knees as he fiddled with his fingers.

"Shoot" Said Eren Yeager, pulling his hair back into a messy bun - his fingers expertly tying a small scrunchie into his hair. Jean had teased him about using scrunchies relentlessly - but Eren would die on the hill that using them was better for your hair; the last thing he wanted was for his hair to fall out.

"I, uh . . ." Bertolt's face was turning red, his nose scrunched as he stared at his knees, trying to figure out how to breach the subject. "So you know that y/n and I have been . . . you know, dating for quite some time . . ."

"Yeah . . .?" Eren drawled lazily, leaning his elbows on his knees as he played lazily on his phone, his thumbs typing away. For the most part, he seemed uninterested. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, you know with dating comes . . . s-" Bertolt paused, now pressing his knuckles together tightly.

"Sex?"

"Yeah, that"

"Well, we've been having it a lot lately . . ."

"Are you just sitting me down to brag about your sex life . . .?" Eren inquired, raising an eyebrow - not that Eren was one to judge as he was often guilty of spilling his guts about his sexual escapades. But with Bertolt? . . . Well, it felt weird and out of place.

"N-No!" was Bertolt's immediately response. "It's not that. It's just lately, well . . ."

"Lately what? Spit it out. I don't have all day." Eren responded, looking down at his phone that was currently blowing up. He had a date coming up soon and he was relatively excited for it.

"Well . . . usually, y/n is, you know, on top . . . you know, more assertive -"

"I mean you didn't have to tell me that" Eren interrupted, "We all knew that -"

"- anyways" Bertolt's face was turning hot at the comment. He didn't have the time to really address Eren's comment. "I like it! I do! But lately, I've been thinking well, I'd like to take control . . ."

"Oh?" Eren's ears perked up and he was wriggling his way closer to Bertolt. "So you took control and they didn't like it, and now you're asking me for help?"

"No . . . not exactly."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, I asked them if they'd be willing to you know . . . switch it up and -"

"Jesus fuck, Bert. You can't just ask you have to just do -"

". . . and well, they laughed in my face, pat my cheek, and said no. I asked Reiner what to do and Reiner said to tell them I wasn't going to have sex until they gave me what I want. I thought it was a bad idea, but I went with it anyways and . . . well, they told me that two could play at that game and it's been . . ."

"How long has it been?"

"Uh . . ." Bertolt squirmed a bit in his place, "Two weeks. . ."

"Two weeks!" Eren exclaimed incredulously, in sheer disbelief. "That's insane! And you've just let them get away with it for this long?"

"Uh . . ." Bertolt scratched the back of his neck nervously, "What do you mean by get away with it? I mean . . . yeah . . .? What else am I supposed to do?"

"Well firstly," Eren said, picking up his phone, "Never ask Reiner for advice again. That was your first mistake. Secondly, let me cancel my date tonight -"

"Oh, no - you don't have to do that!" Bertolt responded quickly, "Just a few pieces of advice would be sufficient . . ."

Eren tapped away tirelessly at his phone before turning it face-down on the coffee table, now turning towards Bertolt - a rather determined look in his eyes.

"No -" Eren held up a hand, "I want to help. Besides, I'm going to tell you exactly what to do and we're going to run over it a few times, then - I'm going to make sure you don't pussy out. Knowing you, this is going to take a while. Consider it my early birthday present to you"

"My birthday was a month ago . . ."

"That's not the point. Anyways," Eren placed a very serious hand on his friend's shoulder, pulling Bertolt closer, "You're going to want to take her to the most popular movie in theaters on a Saturday night -"

"Where are you going with this?"

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Seeing how packed the movie theater was, Bertolt was definitely thinking about backing out of it. While his partner was in the restroom, presumably washing their hands, he fiddled with his phone in his hands.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Eren Yeager

From: Bertolt Hoover

- I don't know if this is a good idea . . .

Read: 9:45 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

From: Eren Yeager

To: Bertolt Hoover

- If you don't go through with this I'll never forgive you. I canceled a date to prep you on this. Don't make me have canceled my date in vain. I dedicated my heart to this cause.

Read: 9:47 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Eren Yeager

From: Bertolt Hoover

- I guess . . .

Read: 9:48 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Bertolt Hoover

From: Eren Yeager

- I'm putting my upmost faith and trust in you. Don't fuck this up.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

"Here -" Bertolt extended his arms out to you as you came back from the restroom and concessions, a bag of candy in your hands, "I brought this for you."

His smile was innocent enough and the gesture was kind.

"Thank you." Was your tart response as you leaned over to pat the side of his face and press a kiss to his forehead before sitting down. "So have you changed your mind about what you asked for?" You inquired, taking his hand in your own as you opened your bag of candy and set it between the two of you as you linked your fingers in his own. Perhaps you shouldn't have brought up that topic of conversation here, on a movie date, but you couldn't help it - the way his big eyes looked up at you when he handed you the blanket drove you crazy. It made you want to lower yourself on him right then and there. It was just a damn shame that he had to be so persistent. The first week was easy enough but as you rounded out the second week of this no-sex stalemate . . . well, it was getting more difficult.

He openly frowned.

"Is that a no?"

"Do we have to have this conversation here? Let's just try to have a good night . . ."

You felt a bit guilty but were never the type who was keen on saying sorry.

"We'll talk about it later, then . . ." You responded dryly, clearly unhappy with the response.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To be honest, when Bertolt had suggested watching one of the like, seven hundred Quentin Tarentino movies produced, you were slightly surprised. He was never one for big action movies - especially loud ones; loud noises were often too intense for him. As well as that, neither of you were into mindless action movies. However, this - whatever the hell this was - was actually quite enjoyable.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself sucked into a particularly loud action scene.

You hadn't really noticed, or particularly cared, when Bertolt had slipped his hand underneath the blanket - resting his palm on your knee. It was kind of comforting.

You hadn't really noticed when he slipped his hand from the top of your knee to the inside of your knee, either.

Or when he inched it up halfway up your thigh.

However, you had noticed when his hand was slipping up your skirt, resting on the upmost part of your thigh where the muscle met the pelvis. For a second, you wondered if he was really trying to pull moves right here, in a movie theater, underneath this blanket - but when you looked over, noticing how tense and uncomfortable he was, you figured if he was, he wasn't going to go through with it - but settled on the notion that he probably wasn't even thinking about it.

A few moments passed by before you felt the tip of his finger press against your panties. There was a moment of tense surprise as your head snapped to look at your boyfriend, your expression narrowing - almost as though you were daring him to push further. You couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or not, but by the way he looked directly at the screen - you could tell he was at the very least a bit flustered.

If that was this case, this pathetic excuse for a mutiny would be over soon.

He drug the pad of his finger around your clothed clitoris gently, teasing it. You felt your abdomen jerk and dropped your hands onto his over the blanket, trying to hold them in place.

Bertolt's thin finger continued to tease around your clit before sliding downwards, continuing to rub over the fabric of your panties before pushing them slightly to the side. His face was hot with nervousness but the adrenaline of the entire situation was rushing to his head.

He continued to train his eyes on the screen in front of him, pretending to be invested in seeing the seventh car crash of the night. While his eyes were on the screen, his finger was sliding up and down your slit, slick from how wet you were. Bertolt wondered - what expression were you making right now? Was your face twisting up in confusion and frustration? Was your mouth forming into a little O?

You pressed your thighs together, your hands now squeezing at the armrests of the chair, squirming. Your heart raced and you pressed your head back into the chair, biting down on your lip as his finger slid its way back up to your clit, gently rubbing at it. Bertolt couldn't hear anything over the sound of cars crashing into each other, but he could certainly imagine how lewd you sounded - it only made sense, considering the fact that you were simply dripping.

Without much warning, Bertolt slipped his finger into you.

Head swimming, you let out a very small moan.

Finally, he turned his head to you.

"Are you okay?" He whispered. The question seemed innocent enough, but given that he was currently one knuckle deep into your cunt, his finger sliding in and out of you and curling, thumb pressing against your clit, you couldn't help but feel irritated with the question.

"Ber-" You let your head loll over to face him, face flushed red and and mouth slightly agape, though found yourself incapable of finishing the sentence as he slipped in a second finger.

The sight of your eyes half-lidded and your tongue poking out between your lips, which were parted gently, and the overall look of pathetic helplessness you gave him was almost too much. If the two of you weren't in a packed theater, he would have rolled you underneath him, torn off your panties, and fucked you underneath your skirt then and there. But for now, he'd have to settle for sliding his fingers back and forth against the inside of your gummy walls, which were tightening against him.

"Shh." He placed a finger to your lips. "The movie is still going. Try to keep quiet." His finger muffled the small gasps and groans you were breathing out. "Here - try this" He slipped a piece of candy in your mouth. "Good, no?"

He refrained from sliding his fingers into your mouth then and there.

As his fingers rocked in and out of you, you bit down on the candy to stifle the moans and gasps. For a second, you thought you were going to choke - but managed to swallow just fine.

Bertolt looked away, once more training his eyes on the movie. Pleasure pooled at the bottom of your stomach and very gently and discreetly, you began to grind your hips into his fingers.

"That's different." He mumbled to himself.

The second time he turned to look over at you, he could see tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggled to discreetly grind your hips against his fingers, seeking out an orgasm, but couldn't quite find the pace your body needed without being blatantly obvious.

The only thing you could do was close your eyes and tilted your head back as Bertolt curled his fingers in you - the pace quickening.

Your heartrate grew faster and you could feel his lips press at the shell of your ear.

What was it that Eren said to add? he thought, that's right -

Breath hot on your ear, he rasped out a simple question.

"Tell me, do you deserve it?" Truthfully, he felt awkward saying it - as though the words didn't quite come out of his mouth. You must have disagreed though, because the only thing you could mutter out in response was -

"Y-Yes"

You were starting to reach the edge of your orgasm, your head pressed against his own, back arching gently, as he pressed his face into your neck. Legs shaking, you sucked in a deep breath and -

His fingers slipped out of you and he took a moment to wipe them off on the insides of the blanket before linking his fingers in your own, leaving you a rattled, shaking, frustrated mess - completely unraveled before him as you tried to catch your breath.

"I don't think you do. We'll talk about it later."

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Spring Thaw - 2

Spring Thaw:  A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Spring Thaw Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2046

Warnings: nothing this chapter.

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes hates winter.  He always looks for the first signs of the ice thawing and new life growing.  When that desire for the end of winter brings to him the god of the spring thaw, he discovers a brand new reason to get through winter.

Chapter 2

Bucky arrived at the movies twenty minutes before he had arranged to meet you and then proceeded to mentally curse himself out the entire time because of how eager it made him look.  He was just considering leaving and coming back again so he could maybe come off as fashionably late when you appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped and spun around, instantly going into fight mode, and when he saw your slightly bemused expression, he instantly relaxed.  You were wearing another warm winter coat that looked impossibly spring-like.  This one was sky blue with daisies printed on it as if they were polka dots.  Your hat, scarf, and gloves were in a darker shade of blue, and on the side of your beanie was a crochet daisy that matched the ones on your coat.  “Hey, you’re early,” he said.

“So are you,” you said.

Bucky smiled sheepishly and ran his hand through the back of his hair.  “Yeah.  It’s been a while and I didn’t want to be late.”  He held out a bouquet of different colored tulips for you.  “I got you these.”

“Oh my,” you said, taking them and inhaling deeply.  “These are so out of season.  They must have cost a fortune.”

Bucky shrugged.  The bouquet did cost significantly more money than when he’d last bought a girl flowers, but as that was in 1943, he didn’t think it was fair to compare.  “It wasn’t so bad.  And I knew you’d like them.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek.  Another first for this new life he had.  It felt like a static shock and he flinched a little, and then hoped to god you didn’t notice because he wanted there to be more of that.  He wanted that kind of physical affection that had been withheld for so long.  “I love them,” you said.  “Thank you.”

Bucky turned back toward the cinema and then debated what his next move should be.  He had the tickets.  Did he offer you his arm or just start walking?  There were so many new rules about dating and he realized he didn’t know any of them.  Did you hold doors and pull out chairs anymore?  Who paid for things?

While he was thinking, you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the cinema.  “Come on, slowpoke,” you said.

The warmth from your skin seemed to radiate out from you so that he could feel it through both his and your gloves.

“Do we need to buy tickets?”  You asked when you entered the building.

“I’ve got them,” he said.

You took off your gloves and shoved them in your coat and looked up at him.  “Then let me buy the candy.”

“Now that hardly seems fair,” Bucky said.  “The tickets were cheap.  You’ll have to mortgage your house for candy.”

You snorted.  It was an adorable sound but you quickly covered your face in embarrassment.  “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Bucky laughed and rubbed your arm.  “That was cute, don’t worry.”

You shook your head.  “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” you said.  “So now I’m gonna buy candy so I can pretend it never happened.”

He chuckled and followed you to the counter as you bought popcorn, jolly ranchers, and a couple of sodas before the two of you headed into the theater.  It was strange how familiar it felt to be on a movie date.  Like muscle memory.  He sat down in the assigned seat and you put your coat on your lap with the popcorn sitting in his.  There was the awkward start where you aren’t sure if you should be touching or not - not that there was much choice in such a confined space.  There was an accidental hand touch when both of you went for popcorn at the same time.  Then you snuggled into him during the sappy parts and even though having you pressed against him felt alien to him.  It felt familiar and comfortable and he put his arm around your shoulders and held you in a casual way he hadn’t done to anyone since before he was sent off to war.

It was dark when you both came out of the theater with your arm tucked in the crook of his.  “Do you want to get a bite to eat?”  He asked.

“I would love it.  Just something simple though,” you said.

He nodded and the two of you began walking down the street together.  “Thank you for this, Bucky,” you said as the two of you walked along.  “I never do this.”

“I’m pretty out of practice too,” Bucky admitted.

“Why is that?”  You asked.  “You seem like a natural.  Not to mention - you’re very handsome.”

Bucky looked at you, once again not sure if you were being completely honest with him or not.  Not just about not recognizing him, but about any of it really.  Questioning his reality had become second nature.  He was used to being lied to and used.  He was used to things being taken from him.  “You really don’t know who I am?”  He asked.

You stopped walking, a little startled, and looked him up and down.  “I don’t meet too many people, I know we haven’t met.”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head.  “I’m the winter soldier?”

“Winter…?”  You said, furrowing your brow.  “You control winter?”

Bucky laughed.  “No.  What?”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing a little.  “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Captain America’s friend?”  He asked, only to be met with the same look of confusion.  “The Avengers?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said.  “I don’t keep up with current popular culture.”

“You don’t know about the people disappearing and then the fight and them showing up five years later?”  Bucky asked.

“I mean… I know they all went away and came back, but I wasn’t…” you trailed off.

“Captain America?  Iron Man?  Thor?”

Finally, a glimmer of recognition reached your eyes and you smiled.  “You know Thor?”

“I mean, a little.  He’s a nice guy,” Bucky said.

“I know,” you said.  “He’s really funny.  Likes to fight a lot though.”

“Wait…” Bucky said.  “Do you know Thor?  Like you’ve met him?”

“Yes!  I’ve met him.  It was a long, long time ago,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.  “Are the gods… are we showing ourselves again?”

Bucky blinked at you.  “What do you mean ‘we’?”

You looked around and took his hand tugging him along.  “We should go somewhere to talk.”

He walked with you until you found a diner and the two of you ducked inside and slipped into a booth by the window.  You put your coat with your flowers beside you on the seat and neither of you said anything until the orders had been placed.

“It was easier back before,” you said as you began to play with the little tubs of half-and-half on the table.

“What was?”  Bucky asked.  “I don’t know what’s going on right now?”

“I’m a god, Bucky,” you said.

Bucky laughed.  He wasn’t even sure why because he knew a god.  He knew and had experienced far stranger things than gods.  But here, sitting in a diner with you, the thought just struck him as absurd.  “What?”

“Back before, when people were primitive and didn’t understand how things worked, we just walked with the mortals,” you said, answering a question he never asked as you looked out the window.  You turned your attention back to him and lay your palms flat on the table.  “I don’t know how to start the story.”

Bucky shook his head.  “The beginning?”

“That goes back to before I even was,” you said.  “And I don’t have all the story.  From what I understand, when the universe was born, the worlds were formed from a central point where all matter was one.  And then it exploded out in a mess of matter and energy.  Some of that energy you and I would call magic.  Some words, like Asgard and Olympus, were drenched in it…”

“Woah, hold up,” Bucky said.  “Olympus is real?”

“You’ve met Thor but you doubt the existence of the Greek Gods?”  You asked with your eyebrow raised.

“Right, okay,” Bucky said.  “Go on.”

“The magic on Earth is weaker and so the gods here are also weaker.  We came to be when people pray for us, even if that’s just a muttered hope, like “oh god let me pass this test,” you explained.

“So you’re telling me that there might be a god for the red light changing?”  Bucky asked.

You nodded.  “Oh yeah, they’re doing quite well for themselves.”

“That's…”  Bucky said and shook his head as he tried to absorb it.  “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” he settled on.  “So what are you?”

“The spring thaw,” you said.

“What?  Like Persephone?”  Bucky asked.

“Well, no,” you said.  “For starters, she lives on Olympus and she’s way more powerful than I am.  And she covers all over Spring.  I’m just the part where the ice melts.  I was way stronger back before industrial farming.  People prayed to see the ice receding.  Now, it still happens but not with as much need.  Oh and also, when Persephone isn’t doing her thing, she has somewhere she goes.”

“What?  What does that mean?”  Bucky asked.  “Where do you go?”

You shrug. “I’m just not.”

“Not what?”

“Not anything,” you said.  “I’m here when people start wishing for the end of winter, and I’m gone when they stop.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and nodded.  “Would you believe me if I said I know how that feels?”

“Really?”  You asked.  “How?”

The waiter came over and placed their orders in front of them.  Bucky took a drink of his black coffee and wished it was something a little harder.  Not that alcohol would actually do anything.  “I guess I better start from the beginning too.”

As the two of you ate your meals, Bucky unloaded everything.  From when he was born, to going to war, to being captured by HYDRA and experimented on, not just once but twice.  About how they brainwashed him and had him commit unspeakable acts, and when they weren’t getting him to do these heinous things, they would freeze him, so that every time he woke he had no idea who he was or where he was or even what year it was.  How he’d broken out of it and had to adjust to life on the run 60 years after the last time he had control of his body.  How that had ended up going to shit and he’d opted to go on ice again because even that was better than living with what he had in his head.  How they managed to get HYDRA out and he was just settling into life again when Thanos happened and he’d just stopped existing.

The food was gone by the time he was done with the story and he was on his third cup of coffee.  He’d worry about staying up, but the caffeine would pass out of his system soon enough and besides, he didn’t sleep that great anyway.

You had listened intently, never interrupting, but the expression on your face told him how horrified and sad the story made you.  “... and then the Avengers stopped being a thing and I tried to cancel out some of my bad with a friend and then I moved here.”

You reached over and took his hand.  “I’m so sorry all that happened to you,” you said earnestly.  “And I can see why we were drawn to each other.”

“Why is that?”  Bucky asked.

“I bet you aren’t a big fan of the cold, huh?”  You asked.

He smiled and shook his head.  “No, you could say that.”

“Were you hoping for some sign of the thaw?”  You asked.  He smiled and nodded.  “And there I was.  I probably felt it too.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said.

“I’d like to see you again,” you said.  “Would that be alright?”

“How will that work if you’re only going to be here for such a short time?”  Bucky asked.

“Well,” you said thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to enjoy the brief time we have?”

// NEXT

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: okay guys, you know the drill. Thank you to the best beta, @lantern-inthenight and to my moral support and idea’s girl, @myownparadise96

MASTERPOST

taglist: @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @n1-party-anthem​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @bigblack-catattack​ @myownparadise96​

To your pleasant surprise, you had a total of three classes with Kate. Biology, Philosophy, and Anatomy, and she made sure to sit close to you in every one of them. With the first day of classes behind you, you were able to breathe a sigh of relief. You had gone unnoticed by most, which you held as a comfort in the back of your head. 

When Wednesday rolled around, Josh walked you to school, a notebook tucked under his arm this time. You had prepared some coffee for the both of you, and you had had two days to get into the swing of packing lunches - nothing too extravagant, but enough to get you through the day. 

When you reached the atrium, you parted ways, agreeing to meet up at noon again, same spot. 

Kate was waiting for you when you sat down at your lab table. You smiled at her as she stretched her arms behind her head, seemingly trying to wake herself up. 

“I’m not used to these early ass classes,” she said.  “I’ve been waking up at noon all summer long.”

You glanced down at your drink and slid the thermos across the slate tabletop. 

“You want some of my coffee? It’s my secret weapon.”

She laughed, wiping at her eyes. “I’m not sure how much of a ‘secret’ coffee is,” she teased, but took it from your grasp and popped the top. Her hair, tucked behind her ear, came to a sharp point by her chin and the dark color accentuated the movement of her throat as she sipped it down. 

“Maybe it would also help if you ate something for breakfast,” you suggested.

She licked her lips absently, seemingly working through the logistics in her head. “Yeah, I’m sure it would, but that would mean I’d have to wake up more than five minutes before I need to be out the door.”

The shrill sound of the bell swallowed your laugh.

-

Lunch came around just when you needed it to the most. Your English professor had thrown you the ultimate curveball, telling you - just three days in - that you’d need to prepare and present a piece on a book you hadn’t read yet. But reading a novel in a matter of days wasn’t the part that got you; it was the part where you’d have to stand in front of thirty people you didn’t know and talk about it at length. 

So, by the time you spotted Josh sitting on the railing by the stairs of the atrium, you were ready to breathe an audible sigh of relief. 

He looked perfectly comfortable - even happy - in a group of six other people, all standing around him in a crescent shape. They seemed to be having a lively conversation, reacting to him like the tide to the moon. One or two words and he had them all grinning. You waited patiently across the room, and a beat later, his eyes landed on you. As soon as he stood and excused himself, the other dispersed like he was the glue holding them there from the beginning. 

He greeted you with a honey-sweet smile, falling into pace with your steps as you headed out the doors. 

“How’s your day so far?” you asked, turning your head towards him to catch his answer. 

“It’s good,” he replied. “Nice to be back at it actually, even if my voice is a little rusty. How are you?”

“I’m fine-”

You went to continue, but he was sent forward an inch or two as someone punched the back of his arm from behind, knocking the breath from his lungs. You hadn’t been sure it wasn’t hostile until a guy wrapped his arm around Josh’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. 

Through a beaming grin, the man spoke. “Hey, dude! Where the hell have you been? I haven’t heard shit from you in forever!” 

You weren’t sure what to do other than to stand there awkwardly, thumbs hooked around the straps of your bag across your shoulders. When you realized the conversation would take longer than you cared to hang around for (also, you didn’t want to seem like you were eavesdropping), you made your way to a brick barrier across the grass and sat with your back against it. Josh shot you an apologetic smile, but you waved him off, pulling out your plastic baggies of food and laying them out next to you. Red grapes, string cheese, crackers, and carrot sticks - you counted it all off in your head. 

It took a couple of minutes before he could pull away, but he rushed to join you as soon as he could get the guy to stop talking for even a second.

“Hey, sorry,” he quickly muttered as he sat with his legs folded, one under the other. 

“No need to apologize,” you said, and meant it. “Here, I brought lunch.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the bag of grapes. “This is for me too? Wow, this is quite the spread.”

“Of course, it’s for you,” you said through a laugh, rolling your eyes at him. He laughed back, the sound coming out light and sunny. 

It was getting cooler. Even just in the couple of short weeks you’d been in Michigan, the weather was changing. You eyed him, dressed in a loose white t-shirt, and shivered out of sympathy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows tipping up in concern. 

You shook your head and waved him off. “Nothing, just haven't acclimated yet.” 

He huffed a laugh, giving you a sympathetic look. “Well, you’d better hurry. Winter is coming,” he said dramatically through a grave expression. 

You rolled your eyes at him, popping a carrot stick into your mouth before you could say anything stupid.

-

After your lunch period was Philosophy. Josh had left you about fifteen minutes before you were due at class, explaining that he wanted enough time to set up for the next period. You think it was Theater for him, but you couldn’t be sure - he always talked a mile a minute, and often all you could do was nod and try your best to keep up.

Kate caught you in the hall, matching your pace quickly. 

“Hey,” she said, bumping her shoulder into yours lightly like you’d been friends for ages. “So. How was lunch?”

The question was innocent enough, but her tone paired with the glint in her eyes was not. You cocked your head at her, giving her a curious smile. 

“It was just fine; why do you ask?” 

She hummed and clutched her books tight to her chest. “I just. Couldn’t help but notice you cozying up to one of the Kiszka boys. What’s up with that?”

You snapped around to give her an alarmed look. “Who, Josh?” you asked, suddenly feeling like a complete moron for not realizing you’d never even asked his last name. 

“Yeah!” she agreed, giving you a smug look. “You know - curls, dimples, teeth so white you have to wear sunglasses to have a conversation with him.”

“Oh, he’s just my roommate,” you explained simply, but she looked unconvinced.

“Ah, really? Roommate and you also have a crush on him? That’s hot goss.”

You were turning the corner into the classroom then, but you paused just before you sat at your seat. You could feel your cheeks start to warm. 

“What? No,” you denied, setting your books on the tabletop, gently enough that they didn’t make a sound, and hanging your backpack from your chair. “No, he’s just a friend.”

She looked like she still didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything else. There were still a few moments before class started - your professor was busying himself at a file cabinet in the corner of the room, shuffling papers around hastily. You glanced over at her out of the corner of your eye, opening your mouth to speak a couple of times before you gained the courage to do so.

 “D-do you know anything about him?” you asked, just under normal speaking volume. 

She looked over at you with a grin, as if you even asking was like admitting that she was right - which she was not.

“Hmm, what could I say about him. He’s kind of the life of the party,” she started. “Loud, eccentric, confident. People seem to love being around him.”

All of that seemed to check out - that you already knew. “Does he party a lot?” you inquired. 

“He used to a lot more. I’ve hardly seen him at all this summer.”  

You frowned at nothing in particular, just a little offset by that. “Any reason why?” 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted after a beat. “He’s popular enough. Loads of people want to be around him, it seems.” 

You giggled to yourself at her dreamy tone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess that you have a crush on him.” 

She waved you off with a smile. “There is no denying that he’s cute, right? That much is obvious.”

You realized that she was waiting for you to answer after a second of silence. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I guess he’s a handsome guy.”

You wanted to ask more, but you weren’t sure what else to ask. You were going to try and continue the conversation after class, but it had run long, giving you just enough time to make it to Economics before being late. You opted to exchange numbers instead, handing your phone over to her and that’s how Kate ended up living in your contacts with a (self-appointed) bunny emoji next to her name. 

All the questions you had intended to ask her slipped from your head the second the next bell rang. 

-

Josh had sent you an apologetic text that you’d have to walk home alone, and he’d be done around six. The route back to the apartment was becoming familiar, and you were starting to enjoy Michigan. The freedom made you feel like a character in a teen movie and you took the time to relish it. 

You were just getting out of the shower when you heard the front door open. Your hair was still wrapped in a towel when you padded down the hall, already in your pajama pants despite it being only 6:30. Josh was on his tippy-toes, peering up into the cupboard above the sink that housed all the snacks but ultimately not finding what he was looking for.

“Hey, how was school?” you asked, watching as he pulled some leftovers out of the fridge. He popped the lid and smelled the container before setting them on the counter next to the microwave. 

“Good, I stayed late to start drawing up the outline for the musical. I’m going to have kids auditioning in two weeks, so I have to be ready.” 

He beamed every time he talked about the production, something he did often. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

“That’s so exciting,” you agreed, leaning over the open fridge door. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“You’re telling me! Did you eat yet?” 

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t,” you replied honestly.

“Okay, I’ll heat some for you too,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. When dinner was finished, you sat down together in the living room, and it wasn’t thirty seconds later that he flicked his eyes up at you. 

“Hey, so. My friend is throwing this party tonight - 'supposed to be a real rager.”

“Oh, yeah?” You met his eyes. “Are you going to go?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah, could be fun. You wanna come?” 

You tried not to look too shocked, but you couldn’t help it. The look on your face made him breathe a laugh. 

“You’re inviting me?”

“Of course,” he said around a mouth full of mushroom ravioli like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You bit your bottom lip a moment, trying to buy a little time to process. “I’m not super good around a bunch of people. Also, I have a metric ton of homework to get through.” 

Even though he was good at hiding it, you could tell he was at least a little disappointed. 

“Rain check?” you asked hopefully, making his posture perk up a little.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, nodding as the microwave timer sounded. 

“I have a presentation that I have to give on Monday and I’m not nervous about it at all.”

You laced your fingers together under your chin anxiously. 

He gave you an assuring smile. “You’re going to do great,” he promised, handing you a bowl and a fork. 

When he could tell that you still weren’t convinced, he spoke again. 

“If you’re really worried about it, you can present it to me first.” You flicked your eyes up at him, trying to gauge if he was just being polite, or if he actually meant it. You decided that the answer was the latter as you found no trace of insincerity. 

“That might help a lot actually,” you agreed, nodding your head. “I’ll let you know when it’s finished?” 

He smiled back at you in affirmation. 

+++

You had tried to work in the living room, but you kept finding yourself getting distracted. First, it was the dripping sound that the kitchen sink always made, but even when you were finally able to block that out, your eyes kept catching on the clock on the DVD player flashing 00:00 perpetually. You knew that had you been working on a subject you actually cared about, it would be a lot easier, but you were stuck working on math, so it was no use. After about half an hour, you dragged everything into your room and posted up on your bed, back against the headboard, and found instantly that being around your own belongings had helped. 

You put on some ambient music, letting it become background noise as you chipped away at your work, first finishing all your math worksheets, and then moving on to Chemistry. 

A frown set on your lips as you peered over your notes. You pulled your phone out and opened your message app.

In your first ever message to Kate, you said,

Hey, I’m a disaster human and I forgot to write down how far we need to read in Chemistry

You stood and made yourself a cup of coffee while you waited for her reply, and as you stirred the milk in, you heard your phone buzz. 

Kate     now

shit thanx for reminding me. I think it’s from pg 10 - 25. Think we’ll get quizzed on it or should i skip it? 

You flipped your book open to page ten and skimmed the first paragraph. When the topic seemed familiar, you shot her back,

I’m guessing we will honestly. But what’s more fun than Air Analysis?

Kate     now

Literally anything right?

You huffed a laugh and just messaged her back a smug-looking emoji. 

She was right. It was terribly boring. You tried as hard as you could to retain what you were reading, but by the time you got to page 25, you weren’t entirely sure you’d pass a quiz on the topic. 

You hadn’t realized how late it was getting until your stomach started growling. The clock on your nightstand read 9:45 pm.

Luckily, the kitchen cupboards were pretty full. You mulled it over for a moment before reaching for a box of pasta and a jar of red sauce. 

The water was almost at a boil when you heard the key slide into the lock on the front door. 

When it swung open, Josh landed his eyes on you and grinned. 

“What’s up?” he asked cheerily. 

You giggled at his obviously drunken state. “Not much. How was the party?”

Closing the door and locking it behind him, he replied, “Pretty fun. A little crazy.”

“Yeah?” you asked rhetorically through a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded back at you, slinging his jacket over the back of the couch. 

“Well, you picked a great time then. Spaghetti?” 

He hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge next to you. “Perfect.” 

It quiet for a moment as he watched you pour the pasta in and work the noodles until they were fully submerged. 

“How did you get home?” 

“Got a ride,” he assured with a warm look. “What did you get up to? Not just homework, I hope.”

“What else would I be doing?” you asked with a huff. 

He shrugged innocently at you, taking a swipe of sauce off the inside of the lid with his finger. You flicked your eyes over at him.

“I probably should make some friends,” you admitted, a teasing tone painting the words. 

As you went to grab the strainer out of the top cupboard, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It had taken you aback a bit; that was the first time Josh had ever touched you. You paused what you were doing to meet his eyes. 

He was giving you an honest looking smile. “I’m your friend,” he said, almost as an offering - like it wasn’t much more than a consolation prize. 

You smiled back at him, feeling suddenly very warm and happy. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just pressed your side against his and savored the moment. 

You weren’t sure if he’d remember it in the morning, but it didn’t really matter.

Author’s Note: What are we thinking? I get butterflies every time someone reblogs, likes, replies, or sends me an ask, so don’t be afraid to do that! As always, send me a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist, so you can know the second I update!

[georgemackayhey]

Hotter Than Summer

a/n: Remember when I promised more NSFW stuff? Yeah so this is by far the smuttiest thing I've ever written. Do Not interact with this is you're underaged. But if you're legal, have fun! 18+ only

w/c: 8k

───※ ·❆· ※───

Every year, you went on a trip with your family.

Your parents and siblings would cram into one car, and meet up with your neighbors in the countryside, under the same roof. A cabin that over looked a lake, that housed a forest, that wrapped all the way around to where you were.

You'd go in the dead of summer, when school let out. When the mosquitoes were rampant and the heat was crippling. You couldn't ever figure out what was so enjoyable about heading into the middle of no place to melt inside a rented home for a few weeks, but you went back each year. Of course, swimming in the lake was a blast and campefires at midnight were such fun. But that was mostly due to the fact that you got to spend such quality time with your favorite old neighbours.

Your fathers best university pal, and his wife only moved across the street when you were well into your high school career. But your dad was chuffed still to have his oldest friend one hop skip and jump away. Your mom was just as fond of the family, and soon you were sharing dinners and going to festivals and movies with them and their son, George.

When you met, you ignorantly assumed there was no way he wasn't a jock, or something equally as brain dead. No one with a face that pretty could possibly be smarter than a blade of grass.

But it wasn't long after they moved in, untill his parents asked you to show him around the school. And even though he was older and so vastly different from you, one morning, you found out George wasn't at all how you'd imagined. As you took him through the school halls, he went on and on about the theater program and marveled over your decently sized and poorly decorated library. He even thanked you for wasting your free break guiding him round to help him make sense of the schedule in his hands.

And after then, you had it bad. So that was precisely the reason you decided to steer clear. You gave small waves in the halls, and pretended not to scream internally when he sat next to you at lunch, every now and again. You went about your day pretending you were much more preoccupied with your other friends, and saved all your hopelessly romantic daydreams about George for your diary.

Until summer, of course. When you showed up to the cabin with your family and your siblings and some of their friends. George would be there, and you let yourself trail behind him like a puppy then. But he always asked for your company, really. He always dragged you to go swimming or to walk three miles to the nearest convenient shop for snacks. He'd sit next to you during rainy afternoon movie marathons and entertain all of your fireside ramblings.  

But it had been three years since you'd spent a summer in the cabin. Your last time was the summer after you graduated. George's last time was two years prior, and nothing had quite been the same since.

///

You knew he wouldn't be there, this year. You should have been off, just as well, drinking till dawn or whatever else college kids wasted evenings doing.

His parents were there, though, and spent at least a minute each hugging you hello. After then, you trekked through the familiar home, up to the room you always claimed as your own, and you pretended not to feel dramatically sad. And for the next week, you sat around the fireside with your siblings, and laughed at their dumb jokes. You swam in the lake all alone. And you listened to George's parents yammer on about how proud they were of all his latest and most admirable achievements.

The last day of your visit, you sat alone in the sun room with a book, but only used it as a fan while you reminisced of all the times you'd sat doing the same before.

"I don't know why we come here when it's this hot." You sighed across the table full of left over breakfast food. Your family had migrated toward the back garden to play volleyball, but you couldn't be bothered trudging through the heat.

"I've always wanted to come in the autumn, watch the leaves change, make better use of all this firewood." You never did, because that's when school started and holidays were left to plan in for insufferable days like now.

George's mother was setting a pitcher of spiked punch on the table, something she made every year you'd been old enough to enjoy in her company.

"You know, it's so funny you say that." She grinned, shooting you a bright glance as she moved to pour you a drink.

"Our Geogre will be home this fall and he was asking about heading up to the cabin." She began. You used your book fan with a little more vigour.

"We, unfortunately, won't be able to make that happen of course, with his father's job and my plans of travelling before snowfall." She rambled, the ice in her drink clinking as she raised it to her lips. Your family's laughter rang muffled from beyond the glass wall of windows that made up the breakfast nook. And the heat, like a blanket over you. Like a pool you stayed trapped drowning in.

"You know- you kids should come here on your own! You're plenty old enough now to handle that responsibility and you always were such good friends. I bet Georgie would just love that." His mother's smile was audible in her tone and beaming from her face. You tried not to gawk at her, not to scrabble to sit straight. You casually lowered your leg from the arm of the chair and looked to the woman with a turn of your head.

"Oh I don't know, do ya think-"

"Yes, yes!" She interrupted with a furrowed brow like this was very serious. "I'm meant to call him later. I'll pass the idea along for you, love."

With a soft grin, her mind was made up. You shrugged, hoping it would make her believe you wouldn't be let down either way. But you'd never wanted anything more.

///

She got through to George, and apparently, according to his mother, he very excitedly accepted the plans. You weren't too sure that was entirely true, but you couldn't help but do a little happy dance behind the closed doors of your cabin bedroom. It was always as you left it, green quilt, matching rug, and the few framed albums you hung to make up for the bland wallpaper.

You left it, thrilled by the thought of returning in two months, and stayed glued to your phone till then. Geogre was meant to text you when the time crept nearer for your roughly made plans to become a little more organized.

You weren't sure what you were so excited for. He'd probably bring a girl, or a least mention one. There was no way he didn't have his pick of dozens vying for his attention. Still, the idea of spending a weekend in the cabin in such close quarters with your old crush was thrilling.

///

He texted you a month before you ended up planning to stay, and your exchange was jarringly short. George shot you a date and time. You agreed. Then he asked if you minded if a couple of his friends tagged along. And of course, you didn't. And that was that.

The summer dragged on, and at the first sign of autumn in the air you practically had all your bags packed.

When the time came, you gave your family quick goodbyes and arrived to the cabin a couple of hours early. The air was crisp, and the lake looked cold from your safe distance away. You breezed through the thin fog and smiled to yourself when you stepped into the place.

Everything was just how you'd left it. There were even still a few notes tapped to the refrigerator. You moved through the wooden structure and noticed how high the ceilings were for the first time in a while. And after washing a few sheets, and sorting out some of the food you'd brought for dinner, your solitude was interrupted.

There was a rattle at the door, and when it opened your heart stopped. He was here. George was all grown up. You hadn't seen him since the last time he came out here with the lot of you, the summer after he graduated. Years had passed, and now his hair was a little longer. He was a little leaner, a little taller, maybe. His nose was reddened by the cold but his smile was familiar. You tried not to gape at him and the way he seemed like an actual supermodel while he rested his bag by the door and looked to you, his grin growing wider.

"Hello, stranger." You smiled.

"Y/n!" He called with outstretched arms. You abandoned your place at the stove to accept his embrace and prayed he wouldn't be able to feel your quickened heartbeat.

"George." You beamed. Because he was your friend. At least, he had been once. His smile remained as he wrapped a strong arm around your middle and mumbled a hello right in your ear.

"Where are all your friends, then?" You cleared your throat, trying everything to keep your cool. Did he really have to speak so low in your ear? This weekend might prove to be incredibly awkward...

"Ah, yeah, one cancelled and the other might just as well. He said he'd keep me updated." George winced, running a hand across the back of his neck. "Hope you don't mind boring old me?"

"Of course not." You produced a chuckle. "I'm just making dinner."

And just like that, it felt like old times. George took over the kitchen for a bit, while you bickered over spices and seasonings. And in between stirring up an evening meal, George tucked his bags away in the room he'd always stayed in, and came back to help you set the table.

Conversation never lost its steady pace. George asked you about your budding life after highschool. He asked what you were doing for money and what you dreamed of doing for good. He laughed at some of your best stories and started to trade some of his own.

You'd always felt a bit intimidated by George, but worse now than ever before. He was musing about Hollywood and rambling about his life on movie sets. You nodded along, and watched George's pretty structured face light up as he spoke of his dreams and how some of them had come true.

When you'd finished dinner, your nerves really started up. Here the two of you were, all alone for the first time, maybe ever. There was always someone else near by in your knowing each other. Whether it be here, back home, or at school. You weren't sure how to handle all the empty space, so to occupy your time, you started a fire in the den. It was a cozy little room where everyone usually spent movie nights curled up on the small sofa. You liked to come here to read, when the sun shone brightly through the picture windows.

But it was dark now, and the fire was small. So you stuck nearby to help make it grow and wondered why you and Geogre were here. You wondered if his friend would ever show. You wondered if he'd ever really invited anyone at all.

"I brought beer, but there was some rum stashed away," George spoke himself into the room, holding a bottle and a glass in hand. He held each out to you, offering you take your pick. You picked the rum and thanked him for thinking you might've wanted a choice.

"I think I know you pretty well after all this time." George grinned, sitting on the floor in front of the fire. You were stood there, watching the flames flicker higher, and it took an internal debate for you to sit at his side. Were you making things weird or had they been weird on their own? Just moments ago you were mulling over how normal everything felt. Yeah, must'a just been you.

"I dunno," You huffed as you crossed your legs. "I've changed a lot since the days we used to tolerate each others company."

"Tolerate?" George chuckled. "We both know half our stays in this cabin were made most enjoyable by all the times we band together. We always had such fun."

"We did. Do you think we're too old now to have fun, this time around?" You asked, taking a sip of the rum he offered you. George stalled for a beat, like he was really considering the answer to your question. And then he looked at you and shook his head.

"I hope not." His lithe grin made your throat go dry. So you finished off your rum and stood for a refill. When you settled back in the den, George was halfway through his beer, and you got to talking about life again. He told you the scariest stories of his time away, and you reminisced about some of the traumas of life you and Geogre had been caught up in together when he was only one house away. George went for another beer, and you stayed watching the fire steadily burn.

He returned in silence and the quiet lingered for a long while, with both of you fixated not the flames.

"Remember when you said you'd let me stow away in your luggage when you left, so I could skip out on my physics finale?" You laughed into your drink.  You felt George's eyes turn to search for your own, but you were still too deep in thought. "I failed that quiz, George. You were supposed to be my way out of this town."

"Hmm." George took a swig of his beer as you finished your second glass of rum. "Maybe that's why I've come back."

"That's rich." You chuckled and pointed a look to George. You couldn't hold back your nervous breaths of laughter now. Because he was watching you. His sea blue eyes seemed to search your face. You never recalled a time he looked at you with such undivided attention.

"What's so funny?" George rose a pale brow, taking another sip of beer. And as the answer formed on your lips, you blamed the rum entirely for your lack of critical thinking.

"I used to have the biggest crush on you." You admitted, turning a glance to George. His gaze had yet to break from your face, but you swore his smile grew ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and shot you a sidelong look, like he didn't believe what you were saying.

"I did!" You laughed, the voice in your head reprimanding you for being so bold, as the words kept pouring out of your mouth. "You were my older, smoking hot neighbour boy. It was all very cliche but true." You shrugged. A blush burnt your cheeks and your mind suddenly caught up with your actions and you'd started to regret everything that had just transpired.

You mumbled a weary curse as you ducked your head away, hoping George wouldn't go on embarrassing you too much about this. You really hadn't planned to out yourself on the first night of your staying here with him. You hadn't planned to ever tell him that.

But George wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at you, like he had been. Like he was trying to figure you out. His eyes travelled from your face to search the reset of you. You watched George's gaze roam across your build while you tried not to combust in a self conscious worry. But the strange tension was too much not to break.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" You feared, hiding your bashful grin by lifting the nearly empty glass of rum to your lips.

"Because you're beautiful." George grinned, laughing a little like this was some big obvious fact.

"You're just tipsy." You shook your head, pointing to his empty bottle of beer and its half full replacement.

"No, you're just beautiful. You always have been." His tone grew more serious. You dared to catch his eye. The flames from a foot away were reflected in his gaze, and something else too. His eyes flicked away from yours to land on your lips. And his parted ever so slightly. If you hadn't dared to glimpse at his mouth, you wouldn't have noticed the way his jaw slacked.

His eye caught yours again and you realized he was moving closer. George was leaning in and your heart was beating a mile a minute and the fire seemed hotter than the dozen summers you'd wasted away here before.

His lips brushed yours before anything, and neither of you moved for a moment. His warm breath ghosted across your face and all your dreams seemed to suddenly come true as his mouth closed against yours.

Slowly, your lips started moving together. But they moved in perfect time, like they were made for it and waiting for this day to come true. George kissed you with a little more intent, as you kissed him back like you'd never get the chance to again. Because you had never once believed anything like this would happen with George. Maybe he was just tipsy. Or lonely. Or bored. You didn't care. You started to believe he had at least a little bit of actual interest in you, with the way he leaned closer and pressed his grip into your side. His tongue brushed against yours as his fingers started creeping closer to your chest. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating like a drum, and if his hand would ever reach its destination. You kissed him hard as encouragement, and he let out the sweetest whimper that would have made your eyes roll if they were open.

And then there was a knock at the door.

"Shit." You let out another nervous laugh, pulling away and catching your breath. You thought George's friends had all cancelled.

"I'm- I'm sorry." George shook his head, swiping hand at his lips and furrowing a brow at another knock on the door.

"Don't be?" You searched George's eyes for a moment and hoped he knew what you were asking. You hoped he watched as you hurried away. Had that really just happened? Had you just been bold enough to do the thing you'd wished of doing since sometime in high school? Was all the gentle passion in his kissing you back fueled by the drinks? Or had he really meant it?

The knocking kept on as you drifted closer. Geeze, for someone who wasn't sure about coming, they sure seemed excited to be here in the middle of the night. You adjusted yourself on the way to unlock the door, and tried not to blanch when you saw who was on the other side.

"Hi kids!" George's mother beamed, a bag in her arms. "My trip got cancelled and your folks weren't busy so we figured we'd come surprise you!"

The group of parents shuffled through the door. Your father toted a bottle of whiskey and your mother held a stack of films in her grasp. They each hugged you, and you scrambled to steady your tone.

"What a treat." You laughed through your teeth. The change in the pace of your evening could have given you whiplash.

"Oh, it's just like old times!" George's mother squealed, finding her son shuffling toward the kitchen to find what all the commotion was about.

"I suppose so." He grinned, accepting his mothers embrace and nodding as she explained that his father was too busy with work to crash the party. With all the tender sweetness you'd fallen for over the years, George said he understood but greeted his mother with kindness all the while. And as your parents rushed to pass hugs his way, George caught your eye. You wanted nothing more than to ask about the question in his gaze. But you feared your weekend with George wouldn't be as you'd once dreamed, like always.

///

You were glad to sit around the dying fire with your family. His mother's laugh was music to your ears. Your father's jokes had George doubled over with laughter. Your mother mused over and over about how glad she was for this surprise getaway.

And you couldn't be too upset, because you relished every moment you got to spend like this. Usually, this cabin was an escape, a place you could come without a care in the world. But now, there was a nagging little worry tumbling around your head, as everyone sat dragging the night on. Loose plans for the next day were made, talk of enjoying nature and making use of the big kitchen. You said something about sleeping in, because that was a rare occasion in your life these days. And here was a place where your wishes were supposed to be granted.

Your mother was the first to head to bed. The other adults decided to as well, but not before recruiting George to help clean up the kitchen neither of you had been very worried about taking total care of earlier in the evening.

You trudged up the stairs and took your turn in the shower, after wishing your mother a lovely night's sleep. She kept walking to the end of the hall, where she and your father enjoyed the best view just overtop of the forest of trees all around you.

While you washed up for the evening, your mind raced in every direction. What had just happened? And what was going to happen now? You'd been through all sorts of unexpected events with George, growing up. But never anything remotely close to... whatever this was. So far, this wasn't at all how you'd envisioned your long-awaited autumn visit in the countryside.

George's mother was soon making her way to bed too. She passed by as you opened the bathroom door and paused to give you a kiss on the cheek. You wished her goodnight and started your creep toward your own room. Before you could get there, George was walking with your father up the stairs, sharing chatter about a sports game from last year.

"Alright well, I'm off to clean up before bed." Your father noted, ruffling your hair on his way past. "Unless you need in here, George." Your father spun and pointed. There was another half bath downstairs, but the one on the second floor was the only one completed with a big shower and a separate tub.

"Ah, just holler when you're finished and I'll have a turn." George nodded as your father spun back toward the loo wishing you goodnight. You caught George's eye as you started back to your room, and prayed the creaking of the floorboard behind you were his footsteps and not just another one of your daydreams.

Sure, and strangely enough, a set of fingers curled around your wrist before you passed through your doorway.

"I believe we have some unfinished business." His voice muttered over your shoulder. Holy shit. How was this happening?

You didn't have time to waste questioning any longer. You only pulled George into the room you'd come to call your own, and shut the door with a gentle click that wouldn't cause any unwanted attention. No sooner than you had, George was on you.

His lips captured yours in a flash, like you'd been lost at sea and were only just being reunited. You threw your arms around his neck and barely held back a shocked giggle when George pulled you flush against him. You could have spent forever this way, in George's strong embrace, sharing the same breath.

He kissed you dizzy and spun you toward the wall. His hands found your chest at long last and he sighed against your mouth as you pulled him closer best you could. His hips pressed into yours and his hand trailed down your front, till his fingers stalled at the button of your sleep shorts.

"Can I?" He asked in a husky breath, looking right at you. You raised a brow, and gave him a nod, only just attempting to catch your breath. You could hardly believe it. But you'd never been more sure. George kept an eye on you for a beat, as you pressed your teeth to your lower lip. And when his hand started to move, you couldn't help but smile.

"Do you have any idea how badly I've always wanted to do this?" George asked, breathing in your ear as his hand disappeared below the fabric of your shorts. "For how long I've dreamed of having my way with you?" A shiver shot through you as he nipped at your neck. It was all very overwhelming. His word. His lips. His fingers, steadily starting to trace all the right places.

"Holy shit, George." You whined, gripping his shoulder for support from melting into a puddle on the floor.

"What? Am I doing alright?" He asked in a snide way, keeping his mouth pressed below your ear, and pressing his fingers against you with more vigour. Your breath caught at the feeling and George hummed happily against your throat.  His fingers travelled further, deeper, till there was no place left for them to go. And when he set his digits into motion, you couldn't help but let out a noise, a small broken cry that tore George's focus from your neck right to you. His fingers stopped moving and his free hand reached your jaw. He held your face in his grasp and seemed to stall a question on his lips. Then with a breath, George asked,

"You're not gonna keep quiet are you?" At the same moment he'd decided your reaction, his fingers started moving again, and his hand that held your jaw moved to cover your mouth.

"Still try, darling, this cabin isn't very big you know?" George grinned, putting his fingers to good use. Your eyes rolled back, and tried as you might, another cry escaped your throat when George picked up his pace. His one hand stayed firm over your mouth as he worked you up and whispered sinful encouragement in your ear. When you could barely feel the floor under your feet, a noise came from the hall. A knock on a distant door.

You groaned as George stalled, and chuckled at your disappointment. His free hand slid down to your throat and his fingers gently curled around there as his eyes watched yours. From behind your door and down the way you heard your father.

"George! Showers free. And don't forget to see your alarm. We're still hiking at dawn!"

You could have cried, really, when you realized your night of fun was halted till further notice. George slipped his fingers from your shorts as you sucked in a breath and let it out like a sigh.

"Don't worry love," George cooed. "I plan on taking good care of you... eventually." The fingers he'd been using found their way to your mouth. You watched his pretty blue eyes flutter as you wrapped your lips and swirled your tongue around his knuckles. You swore he almost reconsidered his leave. But then George straightened and backed away with a clenched jaw and a smile on his lips.

"Get some rest. We're hiking in the morning!" He announced with a wink as he reached for the handle of your door.

"Oh, fuck you." You grinned, feeling empty and full of fire all at once.

"With any luck." George said, before shutting the door behind him.

///

"It's too high!" You worried, searching for a broad rock to step down onto. You and your family had found yourselves at the top of the trail that wound through the forest. But had decided to take a different route back down, around the lake.

"Here look, step there." George spoke up, from the bottom of the path that was broken up. He pointed to a patch of dirt you envisioned crumbling the moment you relied on it. Your mother tutted, and moved past you to take George's advice. Your lovely neighbour extended his hand to your mother who managed her way to safety with his help. Your father followed, helping George's mother, until you were the last one left.

They all stared up at you as you bit your nails and mulled over your game plan.

"Right- we're walkin' on. Get her off, George." Your father waved and turned to follow your mother and George's, who were already ahead gossiping about some tv show. You struggled to hide your blush as Geogre shifted his weight and grinned up to you.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Obviously." You pointed. George reached out, and you held your breath, and stepped where everyone else had. George's hand was strong, but your prediction came true. As you balanced your weight on the patch of dirt, it began to give way. But George was there. He swept you away with ease and balanced you on both feet on the same level of ground as him.

"Did you just want me to save you all along?" George mused, keeping his arms snug around you as you stood.

"Come on." You bit back a smile and pushed George to lead the way, noticing your folks posed for a self at the opening of a man-made bridge.

You all walked on, till you spotted a weather-worn gazebo near the opening of the lake. The sun was unusually bright for the seasons, though a chill balanced in the air. Your gang stalled to rest in the small enclosure and laughed about the adventure you'd been on, and how none of you had ever realized this little nook was out here in all the years you'd been staying right around the bend.

George's mother was the first to head in, saying something about a midday nap. You didn't blame her. You all really had risen with the sun to enjoy the trails before a late lunch. Your mother was next to leave, mentioning just that. Her plans to make a big ridiculous afternoon meal that would likely count as some kind of dinner,  too. Your father followed after her, paranoid about the trek from out of the woods alone.

George stayed and shot you a look as you watched everyone walk away, and turn around the lake. And for a moment, you just talked. Like how you always used too. About life and death and everything in between. All while each pause between topics grew long and heavy.  Soon, you rose from the bench, tired of sitting, but excited to find yourself lingering out here in the sole company of the man you'd been dreaming of keeping all to yourself.

"Do you prefer it here in the summer, or now?" You wondered aloud, because you really wanted to know. The area you'd come to know so well seemed like a different world in the cold.

George followed your ambling, back down the skinny trail from where you'd just come. He waited to respond until he stepped to face you and stalled your meander.

"Now." George smiled, searching your eyes and pushing his nose against yours. The action made your heart flutter and your fists curl in the pockets of your jacket. Then he kissed you so tenderly, like you'd kissed thousands of times before and he was used to the sensation. You, however, were still dazzled by it. Your hands flew up and clung to the jacket he'd left unzipped. You kissed him back like this was your last chance to prove how badly you'd always wanted too. At your fervour, George snaked his arms around you. One of his hands tangled in your hair as his other trailed to your backside.

You had no excuse to hold back your pleased sighs, as George pressed against you, digging his fingers into your thigh and pulling it nearer to his hip. Your own hands started to wander, right between his legs. George let out a groan as you pressed your palm against his tight jeans, and you thought of doing it again just to hear his reaction. But you had something better in mind.

You broke your kiss and grabbed both of George's hands. He watched as you dragged him a little deeper into the green, and fell against a wide tree when you pushed his toward it.

When you started to fiddle with his belt buckle and bend your knees, George flushed and gapped at you.

"Here?" He asked with a nervous grin, looking much more innocent and shy than he'd appeared last night. Maybe ever.

"Would you rather trade bakewell recipes, George?" You asked with a snicker, sitting back against your heels and peering up to him. "We really don't have to, though." You spoke again with a serious nod, making sure he knew you really didn't want to do anything he didn't want to. But damn, you really wanted this.

"I'd really like if we did." George swallowed, and your grin stretched back to life. "I was just surprised is all."

"Why? Don't you think I'd like to show you as good a time as you started to show me last night?" You unzipped his trousers and kept your gaze fixed to George.

"I promise to make it up to you." He breathed as you started to pull at his boxers.

"You already are." You assured, just before the time for talk had ceased. Your mouth had better things to do.

When George lost his fingers in your hair, and tugged, you were motivated to deepen your interaction. Then you got to hear the way George whined and hissed and cursed your name under his breath. Even if you could reach your free hand to his lips, you couldn't dream of keeping George quiet. His sounds were the sweetest encouragement you'd ever known.

You stayed on your knees until your efforts paid off. Then you helped George pull his trousers back in shape as you rose to meet him, and were pleasantly surprised when he grabbed your face and kissed you. But when his hand started to trail below your waste you broke your kiss and shook your head.

"We don't have time." You sighed, brushing back some of George's unkempt blonde waves.

"But-" His perfect pale brows furrowed and his thumb brushed your cheek.

"It's okay. We'd better get going." You nodded. George nodded too, but then stole another quick kiss. It made you wonder what this was about. It made you wonder what George thought of you, and what he thought of you with him. You didn't let yourself wonder long. The sky was starting to darken with clouds. So you brushed the dirt from your knees and let George lead the way back to the cabin, biting back your broad grin every time he turned to make sure you were close behind.

///

The next morning was spent lazing about the breakfast table as a drizzle locked you all in. Your parents were each still in the kitchen, arguing over cinnamon rolls and other breakfast treats.

"I always wanted to come here to watch the leaves change." You piped up, setting a steaming coffee mug to the side, with your gaze stuck out the rain covered window. George sat by your side, with his head in the crook of his elbow on the table.

"We must have come too early in the year." You sighed, searching for a glimpse of orange or yellow in the distance. All you saw was brown and green against a dull grey sky.

"Well," George spoke up, quietly so. You lowered your eyes to find his, and fixated on his small grin. "That just means we'll have to come back."

"Yeah?" You hesitated to ask. What had he meant? Why had he said so? George only rested his hand on your thigh below the table, tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You kept your gaze on him and realized you had fallen hard and fast.

You'd always had it bad for George, but with all this new and very exciting attention he'd been giving you, it was game over. You'd thought of nothing but George each night you fell asleep one room over. Your heart practically leapt out of your rib cage every time you caught his eye across the room, since the beginning of the weekend.

But you didn't understand it. Neither of you talked about what you'd done or mentioned doing anything quite like it again. You just waited up in empty halls and hoped he'd come around the corner in the least suspicious amount of time possible.

But today was hard. Today you couldn't sneak out in the woods, or around the corner. You were trapped in by rain, and if you and George snuck behind closed doors there wouldn't be a question as to why, and that would be utterly embarrassing.

So you sat across from George as your father rallied everyone around an old tattered board game. You caught George's eye as your parents bickered over game rule, and wondered what he was thinking as his pretty blue gaze locked on yours.

When you followed your mother's instructions to go and find a stack of movies in her room, George's mother shuffled off to go make snacks. So your favourite pretty blonde said something about taking a shower, and followed as you trekked up the stairs. But no sooner than you found the stack of movies, and George lingered outside of the bathroom did your father spin into the hall in search of his glasses.

You and George only got to share a look before he shut the bathroom door, and your father recruited you to help in his hunt.

As you all curled up for a movie marathon, Geogre helped you pour everyone a drink. While he reached for a set of glasses, he sneaked past you with one hand grazing your lower back for as long as he could get away with.

And when your parents took residence on the love seat and his mother kicked back in the chair, you and George were left to make the floor comfortable. You dumped all the extra blankets in front of the coffee table and sat a few inches away from George while some romcom played on. It was almost painful, how close he was without being able to reach out. What a strange turn of events.

His mother fell fast asleep by the second film, and your parent's dozed off by the third.

And as the last film played on, you felt George's hand creeping closer to yours. His fingers fit between your own, and his thumb brushed against your knuckles every now and again, as you sat holding hands.

You hadn't really seen that coming. You hadn't known what to expect of this whole thing with George, but an innocent lasting touch wasn't it. All the questions you'd always wondered were louder and scarier as the movie dragged on.

And when it was over, George walked you up the stairs. You kept quiet as not to wake your parents, and watched as he moved in the dark. When he stalled in the doorway of your room, you gazed up to him with a pushed in brow. Then he kissed you. Just a gentle, lingering peck. He left you in your doorway with that, and you stayed up staring at your ceiling wondering why.

///

Your parents left the next morning. They hadn't planned too. But your father got a call from work and since they'd all arrived as a group they decided to leave that way. You had awoken early and found yourself staring at the pages of a book when your mother bustled down the stairs to let you know.

"We'll see you kids at the start of the week!" George's mother waved on her way out of the door. She hoped you'd both enjoy the last day of the weekend in the cozy little place you'd always come back to.

Your parents scrambled to pack their things and followed her out of the door in a dazed rush, rambling about how they wished they didn't have to leave as they headed to the door.

Just like that the cabin was quiet, more so than you'd ever noticed, even when you'd been the only one creeping through the halls. You had no idea what to expect. You didn't want to get your hopes up. And you didn't want to make this already strange situation even weirder. So you took to doing the dishes at the sound of your parents peeling out of the gravel drive. You scrubbed every plate and focused on every soap bubble to stall time as you thought up what to say.

One of you had to say something, right?

When the staircase finally creaked, you'd finished the leftover dishes and were nearly done sorting the last of them away. George stretched into the room, looking around to realize the cabin was missing your surprise guests.

"Dad got called into work. You just missed telling everyone goodbye." You shrugged, meeting George's eye for a moment before you spun to put the last dish away. You listened as he softly floated toward the space you occupied yourself.

"So I finally get you all to myself then?" George seemed to really ask. He looked tired, still. But there was a gentle smile on his face, some kind of hopeful glaze painted over his features. George reached out to you, both of his hands softly holding your face. He peered at you, searching your features as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

"You really wanna spend the rest of this weekend with me?" You wondered, ducking your head as a twinge of fear started to take hold. But Geogre straightened your gaze once more, he made you look at him as he chose his words.

"I'd like to spend much longer than just this weekend with you," He spoke gently like every word was precious. You couldn't possibly think of what to say. You could only smile. You grinned without holding back and watched as George shut his eyes and kissed you.

You kissed him back and decided the pouring rain was cause enough to start a fire. George trailed behind you on your mission to throw a few logs in the fireplace. When you turned from sparking a flame, you watched George settle onto the floor that was still a mess with blankets and pillows from last night's movie marathon. He reached up to you, fingers moving from their latch on your wrist to press into your sides as he pulled you right into his lap.

Just like that his arms were around you and his mouth opened against yours. The fire was nice, but the warmth coming from George was heavenly. You moved your kisses to his neck, relishing the way his pulse beat under your touch. You trailed your lips back across his jaw until you were kissing him again, and dissolving in his strong hold.

You held his face in your hands as your mouths moved together, and only released your grasp to raise your hands over your head as George lifted your sweater up and away. His kisses trailed across your exposed skin, to the swell of your breasts, while his fingers managed to unclasp your bra. With your knees on either side of his hips, you rocked against George, feeling more desperate for his touch than ever.

"Are you sad your friends ditch you?" You asked in a breath with a smile and George was busy pressing his tongue to your skin. You felt him smile, and the warmth of a chuckle escape him.

"Are you glad our parents came and ruined our chances of spending the whole weekend this way?" George shot back, as you pulled his shirt away. You rolled your eyes and pushed George back against a stack of pillows, reaching for his belt. You laughed as he kicked his trousers away and pulled you down for a kiss, like he couldn't fathom parting from you for a second.

You spent a while wrapped up in his tangled limbs- kissing him, trailing your fingers against his burning skin, rocking against each other while the last of your layers kept you from doing what you really wanted.

"You know, I always had a crush on you, too." George propped himself up on both elbows as you'd started to pull his boxers away. You paused your mission for a moment to look at him. His half-lidded gaze and the mess of his hair. The marks starting to darken on near his throat, from you. He was more beautiful each new time you caught a glimpse, it seemed.

"Sentiment not required, but appreciated." You grinned as George sat up, free of the last of his clothes, reaching to free you of your own with his sea blue eyes on yours all the while.

"I did." He rose a brow, and something about his confirming so made your heartache, as it already beat like a drum. You brushed back his tousled waves and searched George's face for approval. He blinked up at you, totally enraptured. You could have stayed in this paused state forever and you swore he might have been content, too. But you couldn't wait any longer. You'd waited long enough.

When you lowered yourself into George's lap, you watched his eyes close and his jaw slack. A sigh escaped his lips, like he was totally relieved. And not just by the pressure you'd both felt now, but by the build-up of this whole weekend. Like something from very deep within him was finally settled. You might have laughed a little at that state of him if you weren't feeling the same. You'd never felt so safe. A strange word for a time like now, but the only word that seemed to fit.

Neither of you moved for a while. At first, you'd focused on settling into the feeling. Then you became totally distracted, brushing back George's hair and peppering his face with kisses. His hands stayed loose around your sides and his nose nudged your own in a way that made your heart sing.

"As much as I love this, I really would like if you moved a little, dove." George cooed in your ear and kneaded his fingers into your hips hoping you'd get the hint.

So you did what he said, and rolled against him. George kept his grip firm as he let out one of those melodious groans of his. You picked up the pace then, not daring to hold back your own hums as George's eyes opened to find yours.

You shared another kiss as you found your rhythm, but couldn't keep it up for long. Your lips parted but lingered close to his when you couldn't hold back a broken cry.

George wrapped an arm around your middle and moved swiftly to lay you down. You watched as he loomed over you and searched your features like he did the first night here. You were in the same place as you had been when you confessed your stupid crush. And you were in the same spot you had been when he kissed you for the first time. And when he closed the distance between you once more, it felt better than ever.

You pressed your heels into his back and tried to tell him how fucking great he was at this, but incoherent mumbles were all you could manage.

"That good, huh?" George strained, barely getting the words out himself. But the little laugh that followed his statement seemed easy and sweet. As if you weren't feeling enough, your heart threatened to burst. Everything felt near bursting, actually.

"It's okay, baby." His saccharine voice rang in your ear as he somehow pushed you deeper into the mess of blankets. "It's just you and me now, and you feel so fucking good. You can let go now, love. I wanna feel you to let go."

He could have kept up talking that way and you'd fall to pieces in no time. But when his hand travelled below your stomach you nearly k.o'ed. Between the things he spoke just to you, the way he paused talking to curse a little, and the rhythm of his hips against yours, it didn't take long until you came undone. He kept you pinned in place until you nearly couldn't see straight until it seemed he couldn't either. When it was all said and done, neither of you moved for a moment. You were less irked by the fact you could have been doing that all weekend, and more moonstruck by the reality that it'd happened at all.

///

It wasn't long before you decided to get cleaned up, but it took awhile to get to the bathroom. George stopped you in the hallway to do everything over again, somehow better than the first time. He stopped you from finding clean clothes to pin you to the bed you'd called your own. You tangled your fingers in his hair as he made his way between your thighs, and made you forget all about doing anything else for the rest of the evening.

And when you finally made it to the bathroom, he followed you into the warm bath. But there, you only relaxed. The water soothed your aching muscles, and the whiskey your dad left behind was passed over the bubbles as you and George sat together till the water grew cold. You talked as you cleaned yourself up, about things you'd always talked about before. You watched as George changed into a pair of joggers you recognized from days gone by. You let him wrap you up in a towel and hold you close in the steam-filled bathroom, and you decided it was paradise.

Your night went on like normal. Like most nights had, in the cabin. You made dinner, and joked about the time your siblings nearly burnt the place down making cookies during a heatwave. And after you ate, you left the dishes for another day, like always. Then you followed George to the den, and watched as he turned the telly on to some slasher marathon. Your autumn dreams were alive and well, as you curled up on the sofa at his side.

You stayed happily tucked against him, one arm and leg across his frame. One of his strong arms nearly pulled you on top of him in an effort to cuddle close as possible. You nuzzled your face into his neck when something especially upsetting flashed across the screen. And eventually, the comfort of his secure hand splayed across your head, and his other arm holding you firmly in place, sent you into the most peaceful sleep you must have ever slipped into.

///

"Wake up, love."

Your eyes were heavy, and your limbs ached. The blankets felt so warm in the morning cold, and George's breath tickled your ear.

"My darling, wake up." He said again, tracing a finger along your jaw as your eyes fluttered open.

"M'up." You sighed, focusing on George's pretty face, his brilliant blue eyes and the easy smile on his full lips. You realized he wasn't curled close, but kneeling at your side like he'd been up for a while now.

"Come and see." His smile widened as he grabbed your hand and tugged you to stand. You pushed in your brows and only sat up so quickly because of George's unusual excitement. He kept your hand in his and dragged you across the room to the fog tinted windows. What time was it? George moved you to the clearest view, and snaked his arms around your middle from behind.

You rubbed your eyes and looked. And past the mist, you saw the trees. Among the usual green and grey, you saw spots of dark red and orange starting to appear. The further you looked the more colours you noticed, and then you realized George had noticed before you.

"Now we know." He mumbled in your ear, as you tore your gaze from the stunning view to look over your shoulder. George really did get prettier with every glance. And now you knew, indeed. You knew how he felt, and you knew you'd get to go home with him as more than neighbours. You knew the perfect time to come back to this cabin, too, when the colours were brightest and the fire's warmth would be most coveted. And you knew George would come back with you. The only thing you weren't sure of was which room you'd stay in together, in all the years to come.

───※ ·❆· ※───

[yukikathesnowflower]

01 | Welcome to Genshin Private Academy

Genre(s)/theme(s): fluff, romance, comedy, school life, angst, jealousy, alternate universe

Summary: Today is their first day of school as Lumine and Aether enter the high school section of the Genshin Private Academy.

Word count: 886

A/n: This is another fic that I plotted since long time ago, but was held up by my work. Although this is going to be a series, it may come in numerous scenarios with different pairings. Hope you all enjoy this fic! If there are any similarities with other fanfic writers' work, it is a coincidence. | Masterlist

Kindly help me reblog pls. Thank you :)

Genshin Private Academy. A well-known institution for its enriched facilities and programmes. Its campus not just consists of nursery section, elementary section, junior high section, high school section, and university. It also has a shopping district, banks, hospitals, movie theaters, laboratories, dormitories, and so on. Anything that is needed to make a city, they have it all.

Thousands of students, including foreign students from different countries, are enrolled each year.

Birds chirped loudly. Sunlight poured through the glass windows as the sun gradually rises into the clear blue sky. The young man squeezed his eyes when soft lights shone onto his face. He flipped himself to another side of his comfy bed, dodging those irritating lights that disturb his sleep.

“AETHER!!!” Lumine shouted from the stairway on the first floor, “WAKE UP! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!!!”

He immediately opened his eyes, jumped out of his bed after hearing his sister's loud voice. Ran toward the toilet, quickly picked up his toothbrush, and squeezed the toothpaste on top of the brush. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth as fast as he could. Then returned back to his room, changed into his new uniform after taking off his pajama, and dashed down to the dining area. His set of scrumptious-looking meals has already been placed on the dining table.

“Why didn’t you wake me up at an earlier time?!” he panted as he tried to catch his breath.

He pulled out his chair and sat down. His amber eyes stared at his sister, who was sitting opposite him.

“I need to prepare our breakfast today,” she closed her eyes, ignoring his stare while taking a sip of her miso soup, “don’t you have an alarm clock near your bed?” she stared back at him.

“I-It didn’t r-ring this morning…” his anxious gaze turned away, evading her intense stare. He quickly picked up his chopsticks and started putting food into his mouth.

‘Ah! Shit!… I accidentally broke it again!’ his skin shivered in cold sweats.

“You broke your alarm clock again, did you…?” her stare grew more intense, annoyed that her brother had broken another alarm clock, which she had lost count of.

‘Shit!…she is going to nag again…’ he squeezed his eyes.

She took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

“Let’s buy another new alarm clock after school ends today,” drinking another sip of her miso soup.

Aether nodded his head vigorously.

Sweet scent of spring scattered in cherry blossom petals over Genshin Private Academy as they set foot onto the school ground.

“From today onwards, we will be students of the Genshin Private Academy!” Lumine turned her enthusiastic gaze at her brother as her lips curled.

A similar enthusiasm reflected in his eyes as he turned his head, a smile of his own curling on his lips, only to falter. Sensing more than seeing something flying towards them, no, his sister, his hands shot out to push Lumine out of its way! “Look out!”

“AETHER!!!” Lumine moved a few steps back after being pushed away.

He fixed his gaze onto that foreign object. As it gets closer, he realised it was a soccer ball. Leaping into the air, he caught the ball using his bare hands.

“Aether!” she rushed over to his side, “are you all right?” her anxious gaze fixed at him.

“I’m fine,” he beamed.

“Thank goodness…” she sighed with relief.

“But… I’m wondering where did this ball come from?” his perplexed gaze searched around his surroundings.

“I’m sorry!” a short orange-haired young man with dull-blue eyes, wearing soccer attire shouted from afar, “I accidentally kicked the ball too hard. Is there anyone hurt?” dashing towards the twins.

“No,” throwing the ball back to him, “you should be careful and control your strength.”

“Did you just catch this ball with your bare hands?” he stared incredulously at Aether, bewildered by what he had just witnessed.

“Yup. Are there any problems?” he stared at the young man.

“Please join our soccer club!” the ball fell to his feet and rolled away as his hands flew out to grab Aether’s, “my name is Tartaglia by the way!” he added with a beaming smile.

“We are…” Lumine tried to explain.

“Oh ya! Oh ya!,” a deep voice interrupted her in a sing-song tune, “Aren’t they the new students?” another navy-blue-haired young man walked over to Tartaglia’s side.

“Kaeya?” Tartaglia blinked and turned his perplexed gaze at Kaeya, “new students?"

“Yes, we are new students.” her lips curled softly, “may I know which way is the direction to the main hall?”

‘Cute…’ his cheeks were slightly blushed. Stunned while gazing at her beauty.

“Could you let go of my hands, senpai(senior)?” Aether stared at Tartaglia.

‘Stop looking at my sister!!!’

“Oh! Sure! Of course!” Tartaglia laughs lightly, letting go of his hands.

“The main hall is that way,” Kaeya pointed his thumb in the direction of the main hall.

“Thank you!” Lumine smiled.

Aether quickly grabbed his sister’s hands and dashed their way to the main hall.

Tartaglia turned his gaze to the direction of the main hall until the sight of the twins goes away.

‘Oh my…’ Kaeya took a peek at him and chuckled, ‘look like this year is going to be an interesting year.’

| NEXT

Published on 03/02/2022

BACK TO Masterlist

[damsel-loves-machines]

Being Interested in Donatello’s Tech Would Include

Author’s Note: My dumbass did an oopsie. This part was originally going to be a part of the Girlfriend Headcanons, but this part revolving around his tech was getting way too long for one post, so I decided to make a separate post for it. However, I meant to edit that the original headcanons are suppose to be gender-nuetral now since the female-related points are in this post instead, but I was too tired to notice since I posted it at midnight. I would change it back, but people have already reblogged so I figured, why bother? That’s my bad for readers who prefer non-female centered inserts. I’ll do my best to try to make it more inclusive in the future.

When you saw his lab for the first time, you commented that it reminded you of the Bat Cave.

💜💜INSTANT HEART EYES💜💜

He’s thinking, “Where have you been all my life?” 🥺

He will flex each and every invention he has ever made to you because he will live off of your praise.

His tech-bo? He’ll demonstrate his fighting styles in the training room.

Donatello’s taking it like it’s some kind presentation for a college class, showing it off with a confident smirk and an even tone when he goes into deep description to each tool when going down the list. He adores the face you make when you marvel at the many different cosmetics the over-sized switchblade possessed. He makes a mental note to write schematics down for your own titanium-enhanced weapon in the future.

His battle shell? Gonna show you a whole new world with this.

You know that booster seat Donatello had shown in the first episode that April sat in before they found Mayhem? That’s your designated seat now. He has your name written in it in his neat handwriting and everything. He’ll even show off the spider limbs by carrying your bridal style and climbing with the mechanical limbs 

The turtle tank? Hope you like Drive-In Theater.

The both of you sharing Raph’s centered chair with you cuddled close to the tech-head. Both of your eyes glued to the theater screen while munching on movie snacks and sipping on soda. His metallic spider-like limbs were perfect as cup-holders.

The motorcycles? He’s gonna take you cruising.

Remember that dream sequence in the Purple Jacket episode? It’s basically that. A calm ride on the cycle with you clinging onto him with your arms wrapped around his waist and him revving the engine, both with matching helmets and grins.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.? He’s your son now. I don’t make the rules.

Donatello programmed him to call you ‘Mistress Y/N’ until his brothers somehow managed to reprogram the A.I. turtle behind his back (once again) to call you ‘Mom’. After chasing his brothers with his rocket hammer and fighting down the sheer embarrassment, Donnie didn’t bother with changing it back. The damage was already done.

A part of him liked it, too, but he is taking that secret to the grave.

Donnie does enjoy the fact that you treat and take care of Shell-don like a son just as much as he does. You make sure to keep track of Shell-don’s coolant to be changed thrice daily so that it doesn’t overheat and scratch behind all 8 of his favorite places whenever you have time.

You even decided to freshen Shelldon’s metal coat with polish every once in a while as a treat for working so hard. He dubbed you ‘his favorite parent’. Donnie is only partially offended by that.

You count aiding Donatello with projects as a date. That’s just how it works.

One minute, the two of you are tinkering with an old motorbike. The next, classical music is being blasted from the speakers as Donnie is softly dipping you in a ballroom dance.

Regarding his tech, you’re Donnie’s second in command.

His Babe On Backup.

Y/N:”....I’m B.O.B.?”

Donatello: “To be fair, I came up with the title first and realized the acronym second.”

Y/N: “Did you try to change it?”

Donatello: “I attempted to, but I couldn’t breathe at the moment because I was laughing too hard.”

He produced a new password and protocol that in which if he wasn’t available for whatever reason, a backpack version of his battle shell that can fit your physique, a titanium enhanced weapon, your own set of multi-vision goggles, and Shell-don as assistance.

Remember in ‘The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle’ when he admits near the end of the episode that he records everything?

You can bet your behind he’s gonna videotape your every move as he watches you kick your opponent’s asses.

Need help? Say no more. He is immediately swooping down, determined to make this a battle couple moment of the century.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.19 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has been through a lot in his short time in Backwater, but there's always the Dorothy option.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Dorothy Option�� on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As much as things changed, they also stayed the same. But they still changed and there wasn’t a damn thing Stretch could do about it. He never could.

After Red cut him loose from the shop for the day, walking across the main street to the movie theater was the same, but the breeze cutting through the sweltering heat was different. A couple days ago, Stretch would have eagerly lifted his face into it, let it dry the sweat rolling from his skull and basked in the cooling effect.

Today it was a reminder that summer was actually ending, and autumn was creeping in one slow step at a time. He’d always liked the fall season since they came to the surface, there was no such thing in the Underground. But now that he knew what was coming with the end of the harvest season, it only made him a little sad. It wouldn’t be too long until the scarecrow pole in all the fields was empty.

Stretch paused outside the theater, looking back towards the shop and past it, to the forest behind it. He was too far away to hear the rustling leaves, still green and vibrant, untouched thus far by the changing season. He could still hear it somehow, like a leftover echo, the memory of that sound loud in his head as he turned back to the theater, the constant chatter of leaves scratching inside his skull.

The sound cut off like a stopped tape recorder as the door swung shut behind him. Igor was right inside, looking a lot like an out of work funeral director in his threadbare suit. He looked up from where he was sweeping dandruffy bits of popcorn into a pile and wordlessly went behind the counter to scoop out two cartons of fresher stuff. The dilapidated marquee over the concession stand had only one title on it. ‘The Wizard of Oz’.

“weren’t you playing this flick just a couple weeks ago?” Stretch asked curiously, handing over a fiver.

“Popular movie around here,” Igor told him, tonelessly. Yeah, okay, movies about Kansas and great farming fields, and wonderous unknown worlds where danger lurked. Wasn’t hard to see how people around Backwater could form a parallel to that, hell, there was probably a shrine to Judy Garland in every house on the street, set up with offerings of corn and tiny water buckets.

He looked down at the popcorn cartons that were sitting on the counter, the smell of fresh melted butter rising, and asked abruptly, “can i get a box of raisinets, too?”

Igor nodded and took back the single bill he’d laid down, the box of candy rattling loudly as he set it on the countertop.

Stretch took it and the popcorn and headed into the theater. What was that about, he wondered. He didn’t even like raisins. Maybe he’d take them back for Red.

The theater was empty, without so much as an abandoned soda cup in the aisles and the floor still swept entirely clean. So much for people loving this movie. Stretch sat down in the far back row with his popcorn and candy to wait.

Right on schedule, the lights went low, the MGM logo came up, and then with a swell of music Kansas appeared in a grainy sepia.

He’d seen the Wizard of Oz before coming to Backwater. The first time he’d seen it, they were still in the Underground and it was hard not to make the odd mental comparisons when they came to the surface. Now that he was here in this town, Stretch related to Dorothy more than ever. A stranger in a strange land, sure, but the scarecrow sidekick was pretty damn specific. Would Edgar Allen even know what the yellow brick road was? He was pretty sure the scarecrow in his life didn’t get out of his fields much, if ever.

Never going anywhere, never really living. He sat out there in fields with corn and crows for company, guardian and prison as one. Stretch wondered if that was as sad as his mind kept trying to make it or was he putting his own pathos on an anthropomorphic personification of a scarecrow. Maybe Edgar Allen was perfectly happy with his lot in life. Hell, maybe he was looking forward to the harvest season and a chance to rest without the corn chattering to him all the time, it was possible.

Thinking that made him feel a little better about the situation and Stretch sank back into his chair and munched on another buttery handful of popcorn.

He was so absorbed in the movie that at first, he didn’t notice the seat next to him was no longer empty. A blood-streaked hand reaching towards the other carton of popcorn was his first clue and Stretch bit back a yelp, soul hammering in his ribcage as he inwardly cursed himself for being so jumpy. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this before, loads of times now, it was what he bought the second carton for.

“hey, there,” Stretch said softly to his ghostly companion. “sorry it’s been a few days.”

“That’s all right,” Doris told him, her faint voice barely audible over the strains of ‘We’re off to see the Wizard.

The Tin Man was lamenting his lack of heart by the time Doris spoke again, tentatively and filled with quiet apology. “I’m very sorry, I feel as if I should know your name, but…”

Oh. Stretch closed his sockets briefly. Damn it, Red warned him about this, to not be surprised if she didn’t remember him. He didn’t allow the faint sting of hurt to show. It wasn’t her fault, it was entirely the fault of whoever had blown away part of her head and left her here to haunt a lonely, dilapidated old theater until it was time for her to go wherever ghosts did when they moved on.

Whoever it was that did this to her, stole her life and left her mostly alone in death, Stretch hoped they felt that sin clawing its way up their back long after they went to the hereafter.

“it’s okay, doris,” he said as gently as he could while Judy Garland danced across the screen, “it’s stretch, like a rubber band.”

“Yes! Stretch!” she laughed delightedly. She clapped her gloved hands together like a child. “Yes, that’s it. It was on the tip of my tongue when I saw you brought me popcorn, but I couldn’t quite shake it loose.”

No surprise there, half the time she didn’t have much tongue left.

She leaned in over her carton to take a deep, ghostly breath and twin streamers of blood ran from her nostrils. His appetite for popcorn faded and Stretch fumbled out the box of raisinets. The cheap milk chocolate barely masked the taste of the raisins and he grimaced, chewing gamely even though the texture always made him think of eating bugs. Dirt-flavored bugs in chocolate, who the hell came up with this so-called treat and were they appropriately punished for it. He could only hope.

They sat together in silence, watching the movie, and by the time the trio made it to the Emerald City, Stretch was squirming in his seat. Doris’s appearance broke the distracting spell of the movie and now his thoughts were wandering back to that morning and Edge’s sudden appearance in the store with so much worry on his pale face. Then there was that soft, unexpected kiss, so sweet against his cheekbone, a punctuation mark on the end of a silent paragraph and maybe he needed someone else to give it a read.

“doris, can i ask you something?”

She turned to him, the ruin of her head solidifying into a pretty young woman as she tilted it curiously. “Of course.”

“it’s kinda a long story.”

She folded her gloved hands primly into her lap. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

And that was her real tragedy, wasn’t it. She was tied to this crumbling old theater, unable to go where she needed to. He didn’t know what happened to ghosts once the building they were tied to was gone. But this place was on its last legs and if it closed, the cushions of empty seats rotting away and the silver screen silent, where did she go? He hoped it was someplace nice, a place where she could rest and always be beautiful, without bringing along the gory remains of her last minutes of life.

But they were working on his issues right now. “it’s about a guy.”

Doris brightened visibly and literally, going briefly more solid. “That Edge person you were speaking of before? The other skeleton.”

“yeah,” Stretch said, relieved. He hadn’t been sure how to bring up what they’d talked about before without making her feel bad for not remembering. “see, it’s like this—"

Doris sat and listened as he talked, as enthralled as she’d been when watching the movie. It was like last time when he’d came to ask her about Edgar Allen; she never flickered when she gave him the full weight of her attention.

It might be bad for the theater to have so many empty seats in the house, but it was good for people with the bad manners to talk over the movie. Stretch told her everything, didn’t hold back a thing. About meeting Edge in Red’s living room and his attempted lamp-ocide, about their impromptu lunch at Mama’s. About his brief starring role as little orange biking hood when he ventured to their cabin in the woods, about Frisk. The only thing he didn’t mention was the whole ‘me from another universe’ thing. That was a lot for even him to bend his mind around and his was still in one piece. Doris never interrupted, listened all the way to the end, until Stretch was nearly hoarse as he said, "…so what do you think?"

"Hmm. He certainly sounds charming, in a rude sort of way. My, it makes me think of Pride and Prejudice," she laughed softly. "Although your Mister Darcy showed his true nature far sooner in your tale.”

Thinking of Edge’s hips in a pair of those tight old-school trousers while he danced a waltz was not at all helping the situation and Stretch shoved that thought deep into a mental closet for later.

“but what should i do? he confuses me so much i don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt around him.” He slid down in the chair until his skull was resting on the back. “and then there’s red to think about, he’s done so much for me. he says he’s not worried about his brother, but…” Stretch trailed off and held up his empty hands.

She nodded thoughtfully. “But you don’t want to stir up trouble in their family, especially since it seems they already have some rough waters.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, tiredly. He knew something about stormy weather in a sibling relationship. The last thing he wanted to do to Red and Edge was bring in rainclouds of his own.

“I think you should talk to him,” she said at last. “Tell him what you’re feeling. It seems to me he’d listen to you and he wouldn’t…” Doris’s mouth moved but her words faded. Her pretty visage changed gruesomely, a full show of her shattered face and skull, the fragile bits of bone littered across one shoulder while blood filled the ruin of her eye socket.

Stretch swallowed hard and didn’t look away, waiting until she slowly returned to appearance of a lovely young woman who was finishing triumphantly, “…and who knows what will come of it after that!”

Okay, well, half an advice was better than none and he sure wasn’t gonna ask her to repeat herself.

So. Talk to him. Right. Not bad advice, maybe a little generic, but then, Doris didn’t know about his past history when it came to relationships. She also didn’t know that Backwater wasn’t a permanent assignment for him. He wasn’t too sure about bringing that up, not when it affected her, too. Maybe it would be better to let her forget him when he was gone; with her memory, she might not even realize what she was missing aside from the occasional wistful thought about a spare carton of popcorn.

But she wasn’t wrong, either. Much as he wanted to continue skipping through his life of avoidance, there was only one way he was going to get any real answers. Maybe it was time to figure out exactly where he and Edge stood. His sense of balance in life was pretty damn shaky as it was, and Backwater seemed to treat the laws of reality as more like suggestions. Why would the laws of gravity be any different?

Plus, there was another mystery Stretch was looking to unravel and he was already working on a plan for that. He owed some gratitude to a bony skeleton dragon in the woods and Stretch wasn’t keen on owing debts.

Doris folded her hands into her lap primly. “So? What are you going to do?”

“eh,” Stretch let out a little laugh, “something stupid.”

“Oh.” Doris pursed her lips. “Is it safe?”

“nope,” Stretch said cheerfully and poured himself out another handful of chocolate pseudo-bugs. “but i’ve stayed alive so far. may as well press my luck.”

On the screen, Dorothy was repeating her most famous line and he had to agree, there was no place like home. His only problem with it was that he was starting to get a little fuzzy on where exactly that was.

~~*~~

tbc

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas​ donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

*

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

       rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

               teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

 December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

       rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :(  :(

       rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

             teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

                     coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

 November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

    rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

         bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

               rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

 November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

 November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

     bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

           teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

     rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

          bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

*

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

*

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

*

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

        bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

              rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

     rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

    rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

[baecvlt]

Better Late than Never

in which the reader was set up on a blind date by Sonia Nevermind with Kazuichi Soda

• Kazuichi Soda x Reader

• fluff

• fem reader

• original idea <33

BTW YALL this might sound accidentally self insert-ish but that’s because I gave the character interests (since this is a date fic) but I dont know anything else to put for them. anyway enjoy still.

“So, there’s no one there?”

I glared at her, death staring into her clear, blue eyes. “What the fuck is ‘there’?”. She sighed and lightly hit my arm. “I’m asking you if you have a crush, silly!,” she spat, yet her tone remained friendly. I shook my head. “I don’t find any of these people attractive, Sonia”.

“So you wouldn’t go out witj a classmate?”

“No, Sonia”

She stays silent, suddenly darting her eyes at Hajime. “How about him,” she asked,“Hagime seems like a nice guy”. I shrugged. “Not my cup of tea, really”. She then points at Teruteru,“And him?”. I looked at Teruteru, who was already gawking me. “God, no, Sonia,” I gagged,“Too perverted for my liking”. She then began listing names. Here is what I had to say for all of them.

Hajime: Boring

Nekomaru: LOUD

Fuyuhiko: Mean and short

Nagito: Psycho!

Eventually, she gave up. I didnt feel any way of them, who’s to know how I feel about anyone else at this school? “Fine,” she said, but her eyes lit up,“Oo! How about-”.

“Oof!”

He had bumped into me, knowing me to the floor. Kazuichi Soda: the Ultimate Mechanic. “Yeah, him!,” Sonia said. I looked at Kazuichi, disgust on my face. “Not in a million years”. “Huh?” (Kazuichi was madly confused). Sonia grumbled,“What’s wrong with him?”.

“What isn’t there wrong with him? He also doesn’t bathe!”

“Ouch, I bathe,” he said. “Why were you in such a rush anyway?,” I asked. He shrugged, but eventually sighed and revealed his reason. “I got excited,” he said softly. Sonia and I were confused.

“I just got updated on my— something. I’m going to the office to see what they have to tell me about this thing I’m in the middle of”

I was confused, but I had to know now. “Anyway, I’m sorry,” he said, walking right past us. I stood there, but Sonia got my attention. “Come on, we’re gonna be late to Economics”. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to class. When we got there, everybody was huddled up. There was something they were being discreet about. “Hello, friends,” Sonia said,“What are we talking about?”. “Kazuichi,” Ibuki said without the slightest hesitation.

Okay, maybe not that discreet.

“What’s wrong with him?,” I asked,“Besides all that, I mean”. “Cut him some slack,” Hajime said, now I knew the situation was a little more sensitive than I thought. Sonia and I both got our chair to listen. Hajime sighed,“This morning, I woke up and went to get Kazuichi for class. He wasn’t in his room. Later that day, I went go check on him and he was in his room, but when I opened the door, his eyes were just read and tired. I asked him is all was well, he only nodded and smiled. It took a while, but he still told me he was okay, now adding in the detail that the board had gotten back to him on his request to be transferred elsewhere”. My mouth dropped slightly. “Transferred where?,” I asked, Hajime only shrugged.

“This is all Sonia’s fault!”

We looked at Hioyoko, Sonia quick in defending herself. “He wouldn’t transfer schools because of me, it’s probably all your fault,” she was defensive,“Maybe if you weren’t so mean to him all the time—”. Suddenly, arguing broke out. I heard many things. Hajime said he hasn’t shown interest in her lately, Sonia seeming slightly offended. Gundham was blamed, Ibuki wasn’t being blamed (she was never cold with him). Suddenly, Mikan spoke out. “Wait!”. She yelled, so we were quiet. Surprised by her tone, it made us all shut up. “What if it’s all our faults?,” she suggested,“Y-You didn’t have to be cold to him. Who else besides Ibuki or Hajime spoke to him without immediately judging character?”. It made me think, but suddenly Fuyuhiko spoke. “Fuck that!,” he said,“The dude probably wasn’t enough to be here so they dropped him. He was also probably too embarrassed to say that. And the eyes? Please! They were red because he might be some type of pothead; high out of his mind!”. “That’s a really shitty thing to say,” Hiyoko said,“Even *I* know that’s harsh”.

“I don’t give a fuck; Its true”

Hajime shook his head,“I’m gonna agree with Mikan”. “Wait isn’t it like extremely hard to transfer from this school?”. “No, not quite,” Chiaki said,“When given valid reason, the board can transfer a student elsewhere”. “If in fact the mistreatment of Kazuichi was the reason he sought transfer,” Peko added,“He probably went with ‘mental health concerns’. Since we’re all of age, he wouldn’t need to run it by a parent or guardian, making it much easier for him to transfer”. There was silence. “So what now?,” I ask. Hajime had a quick answer,“We treat him better”. “Is it not too late?”. Peko shook her head.

“If Kazuichi really went to simply be spoken about the appeal, students are given three days to make their final decision. Afterwards, there is no going back since students are allowed an appeal once”

We all still sat there. Were some of us actually cold towards him? I mean, everyone else in the academy didn’t even acknowledge him (neither did some of us, but we were around more, right?). “Alright, studebts, to your seats now!”. The professor being there had us scurrying away from Hajime’s desk. Throughout the whole class, I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking of Kazuichi, but why? Why did I care about him leaving so much?

The bell rang, Sonia waited for me. Econimics was our last class every Thrusday. The minute I was within her reach, she continued the conversation from earlier today. “So, I was thinking: you can’t talk to boys for shit,” she said. “And?”.

“What if I set you up on a blind. date.— huh? How about that?”

I sneered. Blind dates—they were such a tacky idea to me, what the fuck, but this was Sonia. She always new what was best for me when it came to, well, everything. Plus, it might be fun, or funny?

“Oh, what the hell. I’ll give it a try”

Sonia smiled so hard, her eyes shut. She squealed. “I cant wait,” she said,“I promise, this’ll be good for you. Just you wait!”. She kissed me on the cheek, leaving me behind. “Wait— we aren’t going home together?,” I asked. She shook her head. “I have some things to take care of! See you tomorrow, love”. She hurries her way. That girl. I’ll never understand her…

“Hey, how’s it going? … Nice … Well, now that you ask, I was wondering if you were open to a blind date? … Splendid! Friday, agree to meet with this girl, here’s her number … Let’s make things more interesting … Don’t tell her your name … Yes, you do know her”

I got home, setting my book bag down and practically collapsing onto my mattress. What a day. Before I got in thought about all that I was told today, as if on cue, my phone rang. It was a message, one from a number I had never seen before.

???: Hi :)

I was friendly, I didn’t have to be.

Me: Hello :)

As if a second cue went off, Sonia texts me.

Sonia: Has your blind date messaged you? btw make up a name! dont reveal anything !

Me: OH okok

I return back to the unknown sender.

Me: sonia put you up to this ?

???: yes, ma’am (or sir, or i have no clue. sonia said you were a girl. sorry)

Me: hey dont worry, sonia said she was setting me up with a guy, so i assumed too. i am a girl and being called ma’am doesn’t bother me.

???: well you assumed correctly, but thank you for letting me know, ma’am i get unsure.

???: anyway, what’s ur name?

I thought of a good, normal name, but nothing occurred to me. I looked all around my room for an object. Suddenly, my eyes landed on the family camera I had left in my room whenI used it for a project.

Me: my name is cam, hbu

???: Zero

Me: Is that really your name?

Zero: no but it makes sense to me

Me: wdym?

Zero: itd just me i guess

Me: ur gonna make me sad booo

Zero: oops, sorry !

Me: lol Its fine. but seriously, I know there is someone who cares about you. if anything Is wrong. you can talk to me, even if our date friday goes to shit :)

Zero: Yeahyesh thanks for that, Cam. its just my friends, i dont feel seen by them and it just feels like my parents have followed me.

Me: Well, they probably really love you. if it helps, I care about you :))

Zero: you’re very kind

Me: aw noooo. anyway, how was your day?

Zero: it coulda been better. yours?

Me: yeaaaa same here

Zero: what’s wrong?

Me: found something out ab a friend of mine.

Zero: is everything okay?

Me: Yea it all should be if I can fix things with him

Zero: you must really care ab him

Me: yea i really do

“Zero” decided it’d be best to change the subject since he figured it was slightly depressive (which it was). From the time I got home (4am) to 12am, we talked. I was excited because for once in my life, I was speaking to someone who liked the things I did. The same movies, the same bands. He listened to a lot of new wave and indie rock. Eventually, I got sleepy, so we called it a night. He called me cute and let me go to bed.

I actually looked forward to our date Friday. I didn’t care who he was, for he was perfect.

Morning came around and I just wanted to talk to him. In fact that’s all I did. We texted in homeroom, Theater, Calculus, etc. It was Friday today, meaning we’d have to meet today after school, thus revealing ourselves. Sonia and I were in calculus and she noticed I wouldn’t put my phone down. “God, someone’s obsessed,” she teased. “He means everything to me,” I said, breaking no eye contact with my screen. Sonia went to Kazuichi, who I have class with for Calculus, Government and Chem (which we both failed last year). I couldn’t care to break my focus on my screen, but I did head him mutter “she’s perfect”. So Kazuichi found someone else? That’s fine, but will she care enough to stop him from transferring? Could be be transferring for her?!

As the day grew the situation began getting fucking dire.

I was headed to my final class, chemistry. I had my phone in hand, texting away and very distracted. Suddenly, just like yesterday: “Oof!”. I was on the floor and above me? Kazuichi Soda. “I’m sorry, oh my god,” he said as he helped me up. I shook my head. “Nono, this time it’s my fault,” I said, dusting myself off,“I wasn’t paying attention”. 

“I was also very distracted, heh”

I smiled, picking his phone up from the ground. His screen turned on, exposing that he had been listening to music. “Cocteau Twins”. I handed him his phone. “You like them,” I asked. He nodded,“Do you?”. 

“Yeah, I do”

“Cool... where are you headed?”

“Chem”

“Why so early? There’s a whole hour and a half till we have to be there, plus the 5 minute tardy bell”

“I like being early. Where were you going?”

“My room,” he said,“I can’t find my chemistry journal, so I figured I should look for it before class”. “In your room?”. He nodded. For some sick and weird reason, I felt bad leaving him to do that on his own. “I can help you,” I blurted, almost instantly. His face lit up. “Really?!”. His overly joyed expression brought a smile out in me as well. “Yeah,” I answered softly. He grabbed my hand and ran with me up to his room, having me keep up with him. We got to his room as my heels skid slightly behind him. When opened the door and turned on the light, my jaw dropped.

His room was a complete and utter mess.

“Kazu- how is anything gonna get found in here?,” I asked, trying to keep my tone as calm as possible. “Its manageable,” he answered, entering and starting to look through all his junk,“I haven’t had the energy to clean my room anyway. It hasn’t really bothered me”. I shook my head as I walked in. “No, this isn’t right,” I said, an idea coming to mind,“Why don’t you lay there and rest up a little? I’ll clean your room”. His eyes lit up. “Really?”. I nodded, a warm smile creeping up on my lips. “Well, okay,” he answered,“Thank you, sweetheart”. I couldn’t even react to the pet name. His hat rested over his eyes as he quite literally fell asleep before my very eyes. 

With that, I got to work.

Cleaning out his room, taught me a few things. He also happens to like the same films as I do, but he likes more action films. I also learned he has a much bigger wardrobe than I thought. Lastly, he isn’t as mess as I thought. He had everything one would need to clean, even owned a vacuum. It took me about 1 hour and 5 minutes to clean out. I hadn’t realized it was that long, time went by me like a breeze. I approached him and sat by him. In a pattern, I shook him carefully then played with his hot pink hair, which was softer than expected. 

God, there’s something wrong with me. 

He woke up and I removed the hat from over his eyes. He lay as he looked around, seeing his room uncluttered. “Wow, it’s like a brand new room,” he said happily. “Yep”. He sat up and smiled back at me. “Thank you,” he repeated. 

“It’s nothing, really”

His voice was still groggy, I could tell he was a little dazed after his nap. He lay back and laughed to himself as we sat on his bed. “What?”. He shook his head as the lazy smile on his face grew slightly wider. “You’re really pretty”. I blushed a little, and laughed nervously. “Thanks”. He sat back up again, we both had no idea what to do now, but look at each other. It was a comfortable silence. I could forever into his oddly colored eyes. 

I wanted him to kiss me, now.

I’ve truly lost my mind. I had no idea if it was just tension or anything but that. Would I like it or would I despise it. I decided to maybe test these waters, but before I could, he beat me to it. Out of nowhere, he grabbed my chin, pulling me to his lips. Kissing me skillfully, he lay back and I followed so I wouldn’t be away from him, leaving me straddling his lap. What a day to forget to wear shorts under my skirt. With how he kiss me and I kissed him, it was no secret we wanted this for a while now. The fact that I wanted this made my stomach knot. We pulled away, slightly winded. “That was so fucking hot”. I proceeded to tell him this never happened. He agreed it didn’t. Then he added:

“I’ve never done that before”

“Neither have I-”

Then, it hit me. Kazuichi was my first kiss.

“This must be a very shitty realization,” he said, laughing a little. “Shut up, let’s get to class”. He nodded, getting up from bed, seeing that his journal was on his now clean and visible desk. He picked it up and now we were ready to go. We were still early, despite distance and how crowded the halls were. We sat at our own table, usually we both sat alone since none of our friends had this class. We all knew each other, but we wouldn’t exactly call certain people friends. Anyway, during class, I was extremely bothered. I felt sick and I couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking kiss.

At all.

I really didn’t want him to leave. I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving. I had to stop it, but why did I want to anyway. Is this pity? It didn’t feel like it; I can tell when I pity someone and this didn’t feel like pity. Could it be that he’s always been there?

I’ve never fallen in love before, nor caught feelings. Something about him felt so familiar. What has Kazuichi done for me?

I began to think and it all came to me. The times I had no one else to talk to so he’d be there, whenever someone has bailed on me I’d go to him. I’ve taken him for granted, yet he’s smiled through it all. To think I’d hurt him made me feel worse. “God, I hate this class,” he whispered to me. I broke away from my thought. “Oh, me too,” I answered,“How are you doing, though?”. 

“In this class?”

I nodded. “Terrible”.

I mouthed an “oh”. After a second, I offered a solution. “Well, you can always ask me for help,” I said. “Seriously?,” his eyes lit up like when we were in his room. God his crooked, toothy smile had me smiling, it was intoxicating. “Yeah, come to me anytime,” I said, getting quiet. This was quite awful. On top of that, I remembered I had a date after today. I didn’t even want whoever the fuck I had to meet with. As planned by Sonia, we were to meet at the bridge in between dorms on the third floor at 7pm (mind you, I don’t have a room in this school so there really is no reason for me to stay so late). Now that I think about it, it really sounds like more of a meetup than a date. Maybe it wasn’t so important for me to meet this mystery man. I can just text him I was no longer interested.

And that’s what I chose to do.

After class, I bumped into Sonia. She smiled widely when she saw me. “Oh my god, Are you excited for tonight?!”. Here I am, bursting her bubble.

“No”

Her smile went down slowly. “Why not?,” she asked. “I’m not going”.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU AREN’T GOING?”

That was probably the loudest she’s ever spoken. “I mean, I don’t want to”. “But this was important, what the fuck,” she seemed too upset about it. “I don’t want him,” I said,“I’m into someone else”. “WHO?”. I swallowed before the name came out of my mouth,“Kazuichi...”.She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I know its emba-”.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M GONNA SAY, oh my god. You have to go still, don’t leave your blind date hanging, please. I’m begging you, please!”

I scoffed.

I nodded. “Fine, but I really cannot pretend to have a good time,” I said to her. Nodding frantically, she said she knows. Ultimately, it was my choice and she knew that. Sonia walked home with me, then said she would walk back with me when it came time to meet my blind date. She wanted be there for when he was revealed. I got a message from this man when I got home.

Zero: Hey, are you sure you want to meet?

  I raised a brow and showed Sonia. She covered her mouth, but quickly told me to say yes. So that’s exactly what I did. 

Me: Yeah

Zero: ok

  “He isn’t into it,” I said, showing Sonia the messages. “He will be”. Damn, she was so dead set on this and for what? “Come on,” she said,“We should get going”. I nodded, getting up from the floor we sat on in my room. Locking up, we swiftly headed to the bridge.

It was dark by the time we got there.

“Hello?”

No answer. “Maybe wait a little,” Sonia suggested,“He gets shy”. I turned to her. “Do you know him?,” I asked. “Of course I do”. She must’ve misunderstood what I asked. “No, but do you know him know him,” I cleared up,“like is he close to any of us”. She nodded, now I was really curious. A couple minutes passed and he still wasn’t there. “See,” I said,“Fucking no-show!”. My hands clenched into a fist. Sonia was getting closer to me, looking as if she had some consoling words to say, but she stopped. Smiling, she backed away. Then, I heard footsteps behind me. She stepped away from me, nodding towards me, but that was just a signal for me to turn around. I heard a gasp,“You?”. 

The familiarity of the voice—it all made sense now.

“You!,” I cried. My eyes watered as a smiling Kazuichi stood in front of me. I hugged him and I could tell he wasn’t expecting me. “God, I thought you’d hate me,” he sighed, relieved. I shook my head. “I’ll leave you to it,” Sonia said,“I have to go anyway; my ride’s here”. We waved her off, getting back to each other. “Wanna head into my room?”.

We headed into his room, snuck in, I’m not supposed to be here. He threw himself onto his bed as his hands made a gesture for me to get on. I straddled him like before and kissed him. “Someone’s excited,” he teased. I scoffed. “I’m not the only one”. His face turned red as he looked away. “Hey, Kazuichi? Can we talk”. He nodded, waiting for me to introduce the topic. 

“Hajime and, well, everyone else including Sonia and myself were talking and—”

“Yeah?”

“That you’re leaving?”

“Oh... yeah. I am”

I frowned, getting off him, now sitting next to him. He looked upset now that he remembered. “It isn’t too late now, is it?”. He shook his read putting his hat on his bedside drawer (me thinks this is the first time I’ve seen him without a hat). “Tomorrow, I go confirm my decision,” he said,“I feel... miserable in Hope Peak. I don’t belong here”.

“Kazu...”

“You don’t know what it feels like not having anything in common with anyone. Everyone being so fucking distant”

“I do know how the first one feels, but... we have each other to relate to”

“I just hate how this school makes me feel and I want it to go away”

He shivered as his eyes began to water. It hurt so much to see him cry. I never have. “Baby, look at me,” I said to him,“We all love you, okay? I love you. I’m sorry for being so cold towards you this whole time. You were always there”. He stuck his head into my chest and just let everything go. I played with his hair as he got rid of emotion. I lay his head down and straddled him again. Quickly, I kissed all over his tear-stained face, the taste of salt persistent on my lips. The kisses got him riled up and giggly once again, making him tackle me. I fell back on the bed as he did the same to me. He smooched me on the lips before giving me his final word.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

I nodded, not pressuring him. I wanted him to be so sure about staying. I also wanted him to know that if he did stay, I would be there, always. “You need a ride home?”, he asked. I could have gone home, but I didn’t necessarily want to. “Aw, don’t you want me to stay?,” I pouted. The way I said it was so playful it almost felt like teasing. He blushed frantically answering,“Yeah, I do”. I then realized I didn’t have clothes to sleep in.

And no, sleeping in underwear could never be an option. (Not yet, at least)

“Damnit, I don’t have clothes”. That’s when he opened his drawer and threw some sweatpants at me. “You have a shirt under that one, correct?,” he asked. I nodded, unbuttoning my school shirt. it was a silk black undershirt, could be used as an undergarment or sleepwear. “Hey, I’m just gonna go out to the communal to wash up, okay?”.

“That’s fine, baby”

He smiled, heading off with his toothbrush and towel. Once the door shut, I with a I slid off my socks. I then stood up and took off my skirt. The clothing fit me kind of snug, but I didn’t mind. I lay back and waited for him patiently.

His shower was quick, well, in my opinion it was. His hair gave off a brisk scent, as he lay next to me. His eyes looked weak as he hug his face into my chest. It wasn’t in a weird way or anything, so I simply assumed he was tired. “Are you sleepy, yet?”. He nodded, his face in deeper. “I’m really sleepy,” he said softly. I ran my fingers through his hair like before and let him sleep. Watching how at ease he was in my embrace soothed me to rest. According to Hajime, he was usually a light sleeper. The slightest touch or noise would wake him up. He would shift around or mumble in his sleep. This time, it was different.

It was peaceful.

The next morning, I woke up and put on yesterday’s clothes. When I got to putting on my shoes, I felt him move behind me. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” I said sweetly. “Good morning, angel,” he said, his voice straining as he stretched with a grunt,“Time?”. 

“9:30”

He got up and threw on a pair of clothes that I have never seen him in. “You want a ride home?,” he asked,“I meet with the board today at 10. If I take you home now, I can make it back in good time”. I nodded, going hand in hand with him after he had put his shoes on.

I never knew Kazuichi drove. I recall him say he had terrible motion sickness, yet here he was driving me home in a borrowed car that had been worked on in the school’s auto shop class. I had nothing else to talk about and the silence was killing me. “So you can drive?”.

“I can drive”

“What about your motion sickness?”

He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, that’s always been there, always will be,” he began to explain,“but I’ve learned to ignore it”. He put his arm around me, smiling. I smiled, yet I was terrified. What if I wasn’t enough to make him stay? As he drove, I noticed he had nothing in mind. With Kazuichi, you can always tell when there’s something on his mind. Always. He’ll squint, mouth some words to himself...that’s how you know. It began to overwhelm me and I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry knowing there was possibly nothing I can say or do for him to stay. He may know I love him, but what if the timing was off?

Oh, well.

We arrived at my home, him walking me up to my doorstep. He kissed me, his smile dropping afterward. Fuck, he must’ve noticed... “Hey, is everything okay?”. I nodded. “Okay,” he said, uncertainty in his tone,“Well, text me if anything!”. I nodded, a faint smile on my face. I headed inside and lay in bed.

My memory of that Saturday and the Sunday that followed are fogged. I don’t remember leaving my room, let alone my house. Monday came around. I was nervous. I walked down the halls, Sonia standing and an expression of worry spread across her face. “Sonia,” I said,“What’s wrong?”. She gulped and I knew nothing positive would come out of this.

“Hajime hasn’t seen Kazuichi all day”

My eyes widened and I wanted to pass out. “No, that can’t be!”. I didn’t want to feel this. It was all guilt. Why, though? Everything seemed fine when we had last seen each other, it made no sense. “You haven’t talked to him?,” she asked. I shook my head. Sonia sighed. “Okay,” she began,“We have government today. Your only class with him. All we have to do is wait and then we’ll know for sure”. I nodded, trying not to let emotions get to me.

Now in government, I waited, We all did. None of us had heard a word from him. Soon enough, an hour passed: no Kazuichi. Tearful, my eyes shut as I placed my head on my table. Hajime walked up to me. “If its in any consolation at all,” he began,“Kazuichi really did like you. He loved you. I’m sure he knew you loved him”.

“Why the fuck do you make it sound like he’s dead?”

“I see how it would sound like so. I’m just gonna leave my words at that”

My eyes were burning and a headache began growing. Suddenly, there was pounding on thr door, pounding that startled the class. The teacher sighed. The knock was that of a late student, which obviously would’ve annoyed her considering this is a 65 minute class and it had been an hour or so. A student volunteered for the door and there stepped in a distressed Kazuichi.

“WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TEXT ME?!?”

I sniffled and my heart was beating out of my chest when I heard his voice and saw his face. “Kazuichi?!”. I ran up to him and hugged him, he was tense. “I was so worried,” he said. “That makes two of us”. I kissed him, he asked if I was okay and I nodded so frantically. “I didn’t text because I was sad!”. He hugged me tighter, kissing my forehead. I looked into his eyes, falling in love. Then I had realized one thing. “Wait”. He looked at me,“What’s up?”.

“WHY ARE YOU SO LATE?!”

“I HAD AN EYE EXAM!”

He walked to the teacher and handed her a doctor’s note. “You know I can’t mark you present right?,” she said. “You can’t mark me absent either, miss”. Yeah, he wasn’t the best student here. He walked back up to me and kissed me. “There’s like 2 minutes left,” he said,“Can we leave?”.

“Just go”

Being a nuisance paid off as we were all let out early. He grabbed my book bag and ran with me, pulling me by the hand. He took me to the back of the school, yeah, the very back behind the gym. I sat in his lap as he kissed me once more harder, now that no one was watching. I then faced him. “I thought you were leaving,” I whined. He ran his hands through my hair. “I was going to,” he said,“but I couldn’t do that to you, or to myself”. We sat in silence till I said,“Who would’ve thought?”.

“Yeah, in a million years, huh? What year we in?”

“Shut up”

I kissed him and felt him smile against my lips. “Don’t change, Kazuichi”. “Don’t plan on it,” he said,“I love you”. “I love you too”.

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟏𝟎

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟎𝟕𝟏

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟎:

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you adjusted to your surroundings. Your heart leaped out of your chest in panic as you quickly felt around for your journal, luckily it had been placed right by your side and you breathed a sigh of relief. You had been sleeping on a futon in a traditional home, you certainly didn’t remember anything after the race. You clutched onto your head to see a bandage wrapped around it and your knees have also been taken care of. You thought you didn’t sustain any head injuries though, perhaps you just overlooked it when you tripped.

The sliding door opened to reveal Akito and a maid behind him, she was holding a clean batch of clothes and avoiding eye contact with you. Akito came by your side and brushed away some of the strands of hair from your face. He was wearing a much plainer set of clothes, but it was still the same theme, all black. 

“Are you feeling alright? You fainted earlier.” He asked, caressing your hair slowly as you looked up at him. 

“O-Oh, yes. I’m feeling much better, thank you.” You noticed the lack of windows within this room, it was odd interior design. 

“Sorry that you had to stay here, we didn’t know where you lived so the best thing to do was take you to my house. We called in your absence for you at school, it’s already noon.” 

You have been sleeping for that long? 

“A-Ah, sorry. I think I overstayed my welcome then, I’m sorry for troubling you Akito-san.” As you were going to slip out of the futon, he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind you being here.” He smiled at you.

“O-Oh. . . Thank you, Akito-san. . . B-But you really didn’t have to take care of me. I-is there anything I can do for you?” You asked. 

There seemed to be a hidden glint in his eyes as his smile grew, “yeah, let’s go on a date.” 

A date?!

Your cheeks burst into a bright shade as you turned away from him, feeling the heat rush towards your face. He was really blunt, it was a bit embarrassing. Unknown to you, "she” was staring at the way your (e/c) eyes flickered across the room when you were shy. Akito was noting every single one of your movements until you nodded in response to his request. 

“That’s good, I brought a pair of clothes for you to wear. You can keep them after the date.” He stood up and slid the door closed, “I’ll be waiting for you outside when you finish.” 

You turned to the maid who was tasked with changing you as she guided your movements. You wondered if Akito came from a wealthy family, you should ask him for his last name when the date is over. 

“Look Haa-san! Chocolates from me!” Shigure held up a blue polka dot bag, filled with the chocolates Tohru bought. 

Hatori’s hands were tucked in his pockets, but he still slammed the door shut in front of his face. Shigure cried comedic tears at his rejection but slid the door open slightly, “I’m sorry, they’re from Tohru-kun.”

“Idiot.” 

Shigure invited himself into Hatori’s office and sat down on one of the empty chairs near him. His place was a bit messy, with books scattered across the desk with various stacks of paper surrounding him.

“She’s a conscientious girl.” 

“That’s an understatement. There’s more for Momicchi and Haa-kun too.” Shigure replied, referring to the bag of chocolates.

 “She evidently planned on bringing them here yourself, but I offered to do it! Because guess what? She, Yuki-kun, Kyo-kun, and Kagura are all on a double date today!"

Shigure wrapped his arms around his chest, “I thought Yuki-kun would bring over (Y/n)-kun, but he said she was absent today at school.” 

“Shigure.” Hatori pressed his lips together before he spun in his chair to face Shigure, his eyes becoming deathly serious at the mention of your name. “I have some news for you, regarding that girl, (L/n).”

“What is it Haa-san?” 

“Akito called me over today to treat her at the Sohma Estate, they are going on a date today.” Shigure’s eyes widened in shock, the tension in the air growing as he stared at him speechless. 

You and Akito? Together? Did she call in Hatori to take care of you?

“You can’t be serious, she’s with Akito right now?!” 

“When it comes to Akito, I am afraid it’s true.” 

Hatori turned to the side, trying to make the news not as heavy to Shigure, “Akito has taken in interest in her.” 

Crap, Shigure thought. He gripped onto his hair as he looked down at the floor. This was an unexpected part of Akito. Not once has she taken an interest in anyone outside of the Sohma family, aside from Tohru where the bet has been set in place. When exactly did you two meet? What happened? Did Akito call in sick for you? 

What was she planning?

“I. . . Yuki-kun is going to be devastated,” Shigure mumbled, unable to form any other words to convey his shock. 

“I’m sorry. . . Akito wants to keep this a secret though.”

“Let’s watch this movie.” Akito pointed at the Mogeta advertisement. 

You sweatdropped at the sight of the poster. You never really watched television or any sort of movie as a kid, so you didn’t really know what exactly you were looking at. But based on how Akito’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the sight of the movie being shown, you didn’t really have many options to choose from to make him happy. 

“Do you like the main character, Akito-san?” You asked.

“I do, I was going to buy one of the stuffed animals during their first showing, but I had gotten sick that day.” He responded before grasping onto your hand, “let’s go, we might lose each other in this crowd.” 

He guided you towards the inside of the theatre, the darkness swallowing you both up as he chose the seats for you. 

From the outside, Yuki and the others were standing, watching Kagura interact with Kyo on their “double date”. He brushed part of his hair back, his mind still concerned about your well being. 

Tohru told him that you went home early by yourself, but last time he checked they were at the other side of town, there would be no way you had gotten home so quickly with your knee. It was made even worse when you hadn’t arrived to school the next day, when he asked the teacher about it, she said your mother called in sick for you.

That’s odd.

He knew you lived alone. 

None of this was adding up. He was going to try to visit your house tomorrow to see if you would be home. From the corner of his eye, he could see your figure in a black sweater and pants, your hand intertwined with someone else he found to be very familiar. His eyes widened at the sight of the short-haired friend of your’s and he immediately began running past Kyo and Kagura to the theater, but the time he got there it was already too dark for him to see you. Tohru ran by his side, concern washed over her face.

“Sohma-kun, is something wrong?” She asked.

He pulled on part of his hair as he looked down, feeling disappointed and utterly lost. “No. I’m fine.” He sighed before making his way inside to find their seats. Tohru frowned in response but chose not to speak about it. 

You would have never thought that Yuki would be sitting only a few seats ahead of you. You were in the far back of the theater where you had an overhead view of the crowd. As you were going to comment about your seating arrangement, Akito had already turned to you.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head, “n-no, I just thought I saw a friend here.” 

“Oh? I see.” He bluntly replied, sounding a bit uninterested in your friends. 

You pressed your lips together in a straight line as you stared down at the grey hair in the theater. What was he doing here? You never really took Yuki as someone who would watch a movie like Mogeta but considering the fact that you were here watching it as well meant that perhaps there was more to it. On closer inspection, he was sitting next to Tohru with Kyo and another girl. 

Were they on a double date?

You wondered if he and Tohru were really that close. 

But. . . It seems as if he is having a nice time opening up to others because of Tohru now. It was a bit obvious the sudden change in the aura when the first time you saw him in middle school and now. It must be nice to feel less lonely. Your eyes narrowed in disappointment and sadness, your stomach-churning at your own thoughts.

You felt a bit jealous.

Jealous that he was able to open up so easily because he has people like Tohru in his life.

You said that maybe the eagle could save the rat from his burdens, but perhaps you were proven wrong. Perhaps he never needed the eagle. Maybe the eagle was a scapegoat to his own duties of being by God’s side.

You couldn’t tell if this was your doubt speaking for you, but no matter what happens between you and Yuki, there would always be a drift between the two of you. It was one that was being pulled together and ripped apart constantly.

Did you really belong in his life? You chewed on the bottom of your lip as you felt your eyes tear up. Was the friendship you had simply your imagination?

He had a lot of people who could give him the same sense of comfort that you tried to give. He could easily replace you with anyone else in his life, he only needed Tohru to make him happy.

Akito reached out to your cheek, bringing it closer to him as you stared into his eyes in the darkened room, only illuminated by the movie playing in the back. Your mind paused as you melted in his touch, the feeling of fuzziness coming back to you.

“You’re crying.” You pulled yourself away from him in shock, trying to cover your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized, sniffling underneath your hand as you turned away from him.

“Don’t apologize, what’s wrong?”

“I. . .” You choked on a sob, trying to keep quiet in the theater while the movie drowned out the noises of your tears. You didn’t know if you could trust Akito fully, but there was something about the look he gave you which made you feel wanted.

“I don’t belong here.” You muttered.

“I don’t feel like I belong with the people I call friends.” You bit the bottom of your lip, feeling your body tremble as you continued to cry next to Akito. “. . . It’s hard when all of them look so happy without me.”

Akito’s slender fingers reached out to pull your hands away from your face, exposing your teary eyes which gave him shivers down his spine. He caressed your cheek softly, giving you a look of empathy and understanding.

Such beautiful eyes.

“It’s okay. You’re worth a lot to me (L/n)-san, I can be your friend.”

Your eyes widened at his proposal, your heart feeling as if it had been touched by him. He brought you closer to a tight hug, the armrest between the two of you being pushed back as he toyed with your strands of hair. You inhaled the soft scent of his clean clothes as you gripped onto his shirt, your tears slipping down your cheeks and soaking his collarbone.

I could be your only one, Akito thought.

After all. You were a Messenger of God.

You were meant to be by God’s side.

VOLUME ONE COMPLETED.

[weepingvoidpenguin]

The Gods’ Blessing

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girl and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warnings: None, 

Potentially a Part 2, I finally have some free time over a mini break and my heart is yearning for some good ol’ Spider-Man.

Word Count: 5,223

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

  “If I have to sit through another one of her lectures I’m going to lose my mind,” you said, rubbing your temples and taking your seat at the lunch table with MJ.

  “We’re only halfway through the year,” MJ responded, twirling a piece of celery in the air as she spoke.

  You grumbled and rested your head on the Advanced Biology textbook in front of you, “Yes, thank you, MJ, for so eloquently pointing that out,”

  She smiled, “You’re welcome,”

  “Hey guys.” Ned took his seat next to you and slammed his AP Biology book on the table, “If I have to sit through another one of her lectures,”

  “Thank you!” You exasperated, throwing your hands up in agreement.

  MJ snorted with laughter and pulled her phone out, “So what’ll it be for tonight? Movie at my house? Movie at the theater?”

  “Studying,” you answered, throwing open the textbook and immediately forming a headache.

  The chatter of the lunchroom rang in your ear and you grumbled in annoyance, trying to rehash on today’s lesson as best you could when another loud thud on the table caught your attention.

  “So, have we decided what we’re doing for tonight?” Peter asked, excitement clear in his tone.

  “Apparently (Y/N) has no intentions on having a good time and has dedicated her life to passing Biology,” Ned offered up, handing Peter the notes he missed for the class.

  “Aw, come on, we can’t keep skipping out on our weekly hangouts, that’s when they disappear altogether,” Peter huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair as Liz sat in the empty chair beside him and Peter quickly straightened his posture and a twinge in your chest caused you to roll your eyes. He was constantly trying to make himself look good around her.

  “Hey guys.” She smiled and pulled out her lunch for the day, “What’s the plan for tonight?”

  “Ugh!” You groaned and Ned snatched his notes back from Peter to study over them with you.

  “Movies at my place,” MJ decided and nodded her head as if agreeing with herself, “Yeah, that’s what we’re gonna do,”

  Peter’s eyes lit up and he faced Liz, “Unless you wanted to do something else? Of course, movies at MJ’s is always fun but if you had anything else in mind then I wouldn’t be opposed to-”

  Liz held up her hand, “Movies at MJ’s sounds fun,”

  For as long as you could remember, Peter’s had a huge crush on Liz Allen and boy was it starting to really tap dance on your final nerve. Not only did you not appreciate Peter’s constant gawking over her but it was bad enough that now she had to come to the weekly meet-ups at Peter’s insistence. Now, you didn’t hold any grudges against Liz, in fact, she was pretty cool and superbly nice and that was something you could appreciate about her. It was just the fact that every time Peter looked at her with his puppy dog eyes your heart would twist in agony that was starting to get really old. Like, really old.

  “I think I’m gonna have to pass on this one,” you said, Ned skimming to the part of the notes that you were confused about.

  “No one’s flaking out this time,” MJ spoke up and lifted her pencil off her sketch pad, “Peter’s practically rainchecked every hang out this month and he’s finally willing to breathe with us for a second so we’re going to hang out whether you like it or not,”

  “MJ, I would but I have to study for the exam on Monday,” you tried to explain but she could tell by the look on your face that there was an underlying reason.

  “So then Peter can help you study while I set up for the movie but you’re not skipping out on us,” MJ turned away from you and started a conversation with Liz about their soulmates.

  See, on this earth everyone was born with a soulmate and they could find out who in a variety of ways. Some people had an invisible red string that only they could see, some could read each other’s thoughts, some couldn’t see color until touching their soulmate for the first time and the list goes on but no matter what, your soulmate always had the same indication or lack of ability.

  For the longest time, you thought you didn’t have a soulmate. You weren’t born with words on your body, no red string, no telepathic ability, nothing. It was until one night on the summer of your tenth year that you finally found out what you were missing.

~

  “(Y/N), MJ’s here!” your mother shouted from downstairs and you hopped off the bed to see your best friend standing there in her usual baggy clothes.

  “My mom’s gonna order us pizza for tonight,” she chimed cheerily and whisked you away by your hand after saying good-bye to your mom.

  “Have fun!” She shouted after you and watched to make sure you entered your neighbors house.

  “My dad says there’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, you wanna see?” MJ asked later on that night when the pizza had arrived and you’d cuddled up in bed together.

  “What’s a meteor shower?” You asked, not convinced you wanted to waste your time looking at something you didn’t even understand.

  “It’s when the sky looks like there’s a bunch of shooting stars,”

  You shrugged your small shoulders and looked out of MJ’s window. The city had been so light polluted that anyone could hardly see the sky anyway so you shook your head and threw some popcorn in your mouth, “I don’t think so, you can’t see anything out there,”

  She nodded her head with no argument, obviously not as interested in the topic as you had assumed, and continued to watch Spy Kids with you.

  “I hope you know I’m Carmen,” she said after the movie had ended and the popcorn had long been gone.

  You shook your head and pretended to throw a gadget at her feet, “I’m Carmen!” You said, ducking under a pillow as the make-believe gadget electrocuted her.

  “Nu-uh!” She stomped around her room, her tiny fists balled up at her side when there was a sudden knock on the door.

  “MJ, (Y/N), come look at this!” MJ’s dad’s excitement could be seen on his face so you both followed his order without second guessing.

  He led you to her parent’s shared bedroom and opened their window, stepping out onto their fire escape and walking to the railing. You gulped. You’d always been afraid of the fire escape but only because it had been ingrained into your mind that the fire escape was not a toy and was very dangerous. So you cautiously followed her dad and mom out the window to the railing.

  MJ’s mouth dropped as she stared at the dark expanse above you, “Wow!” She squealed.

  You looked up to find what she was looking at once you caught up to her.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Asked her father, amazed at the sight before him.

  MJ’s mom nodded and brought you closer to her so you could get a good look at the show.

  “What?” You asked, straining your eyes to see the night’s sky, “What do you see?”

  “You don’t see it?” Her father asked, his eyes never once prying away from above.

  “See what?” You asked, your eyes scanning back and forth, up and down and still nothing as the minutes passed. “I don’t get it,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and almost stomping around to head back into the house when MJ grabbed your elbow to keep you in place.

  “Look!” She gasped, pointing out into the void.

  And you looked. You looked hard for so long until your eyes burned with the strain but that night you never became amazed in the same way that her family was. They held admiration for the sky sprawled above them but you could never meet their excitement.

  For that night and all the nights before then when you looked up at the sky, you saw nothing.

~

  MJ had found her soulmate last summer while on a school trip and although you weren’t going out into the world and looking for your soulmate, you couldn’t help the bit of envy you felt. You were happy for her of course, she’d been so happy when she met her other half and they have yet to go a day without communicating as he didn’t live anywhere near the area. You’ve met him over facetime calls and had a few meaningless conversations with him when MJ wanted you guys to get to know each other (she wants her best friend and her boyfriend to get along). But you couldn’t help the twinge of guilt whenever she would go into the other room for a phone call and you were left by yourself.

  Again, you weren’t sad or upset, more so just kind of wishing you had something similar so you didn’t have to wait in anticipation to find out who your soulmate was. But then again there was a part of you that didn’t wish to know because if it was anyone other than Peter, you would’ve been crushed.

  You’d been crushing on Peter since you met him in the early days of your High School career. You’d had a few classes with him and actually joined the Decathalon team much to MJ’s persistence and you were forever grateful when you did. Not only because you’d gotten to spend more time with her and the fact that you got to spend more time with Peter but because you actually liked it, like, a lot.

  But as time passed you’d become great friends with Peter and his friend, now your friend, Ned. And MJ and Ned both noticed how your behavior changed once Peter started growing feelings for Liz, who claimed she’d already met her soulmate mind you. It wasn’t until months later that Ned that it slip that Liz had lied about that to make everyone back off but she’d let it slip to Pete who’s hopes shot up.

  Ever since Peter found out she lied about meeting her soulmate, he’s been following her around like a lost puppy. But in good conscious, we all pretended we didn’t know Liz was lying about having met her soulmate so she didn’t feel self-conscious about it, despite her reasoning making sense.

  As far as you knew, Peter could see the night sky and you’d never shared with anyone what your soulmate indication was. All of the ones that your friends had, the first words, first touch, the lack of color, none of theirs had matched up with yours. In fact, you have yet to hear of someone who lacked the ability to look at the stars so you kept your mouth shut in fear of being ostracized.

  “Earth to (Y/N)!” Ned said, waving his hand in your face to catch your attention.

  “What? Oh, sorry, let’s get back to it,” you said, focusing back on your studies and failing to see the guy walking towards your table.

  “Hey Liz, MJ,” said the brunette boy who you’d come to know as Brad Davis. They greeted him with smiles and he turned to you, “Hey (Y/N),” he said, twisting his hands around in themselves and looking down at his shoes before managing the courage to look up.

  “Hi, Brad,” You said, not once looking up from your textbook.

  After a few seconds of silence you felt Ned elbow you and you pulled your eyes from the book to see Ned motioning to the looming figure beside you. You stared up at Brad and gave him a confused look, “What’s up?” You asked, wanting to get back to Satan’s science as soon as possible.

  “I was wondering if, maybe you’d want to come see a movie with me this weekend?” he asked with a shy smile on his face.

  You smiled politely at him and you felt the eyes of everyone at your table burning through your body, “Brad, we don’t have the same Indicator,” you simply responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “I know,” he looked down at the words tattooed on his forearm that would disappear once he met his soulmate, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like spending time with you and there’s no harm in a movie,”

  You looked away from Brad and scanned the eyes of your friends, all of them waiting for you to respond, you were too shocked at his question that you didn’t notice the slight panic in Peter’s gaze. You turned back to Brad and shrugged your shoulders, “Why not?” you agreed, “But not tonight, how about tomorrow at six?” you offered, knowing MJ would kill you if you flaked on them for someone that wasn’t even your soulmate.

  His smile broadened and he nodded, “Yeah! I’ll pick you up,”

  You smiled back at him, “I’ll text you my address,”

  Brad walked away glowing with a radiance that he didn’t have before asking you out on a date. Once he was out of sight you turned back to Ned and raised your eyebrow at his expression.

   “What?” You asked, now registering everyone else’s reactions as well.

  “Nothing,” Mj said, shrugging her shoulders and completely unbothered by what just happened while Ned and Pete exchanged quick glances before Ned called your attention back to the textbook.

~

  Later that night, you headed straight to MJ’s after school with Ned and Liz while Peter claimed he would meet up with us in a few hours. You’d walked the way to her house in excitement as the day’s events clicked in your mind. MJ wasn’t too interested in the topic but Liz wouldn’t stop talking about it with you. She seemed elated that Brad had asked you out despite clearly not being your soulmate and you felt the flattery slowly disappear as she began talking about Peter and how she was beginning to grow feelings for him.

  You nodded at all the right parts and smiled when you were supposed to but never spoke up or dug deeper than she would offer up herself. Truthfully, you didn’t want to know how the boy you’d had a crush on for the past three years might actually get the girl he’d been crushing on for the past three years.

  Once the knot began to form in your throat, MJ took hold of your hand and squeezed it tightly, reassuring you that she was there for you. You squeezed her hand back in a silent thank you and walked the rest of the way by her side with a sad smile on your face.

  “So what’s on the menu for tonight?” Ned asked once the pizza showed up and Peter texted you all in the group chat letting you know he was around the corner.

  “We have action, comedy and horror. What do we start with?” MJ asked, wriggling her eyebrows.

  “Same order you announced,” you offered, taking a slice of the pizza in front of you and taking a bite out of it.

  “Same order it is,” Liz agreed and you handed her the box, “Thanks,” she said and took a slice.

  The sound of the door opening and locking behind you caught your attention and the steps coming up the stairs made your heart rate pick up. You watched in anticipation as Peter joined the rest of you and zipped his backpack shut quickly.

  “Hey,” he waved to everyone and you nodded to him as casually as you could.

  “I saved you a seat.” Liz patted the available space beside her and you cursed yourself for not noticing that she had been saving the spot.

  Pete took his spot next to Liz and you huffed, sitting back against the cushion of the upstairs living room in MJ’s huge apartment. MJ popped the DVD into the console and took her seat next to you before leaning and smiling.

  “I know I’m not Peter Parker but I hope I will do for tonight,” she teased.

  You softly shoved her and handed her the plate she had been making you hold for her while she chose the movies. “Of course, you’ll do, but only for tonight,” you responded and she rolled her eyes before outstretching her arms for you to lean in and get comfortable to watch the movie.

  The first two movies flew by and during each movie break you’d stretched and tossed away the garbage you’d created.

  “Last one for the night,” MJ said, showing everyone the disc and you agreed already yawning from the exhaustion creeping up.

  You heard snickering come from your left and you peeked over to see Liz leaning against Peter and his arm wrapped around her shoulder, their fingers intermingled and you stood up abruptly from your seat, catching everyone’s attention.

  “You ok?” Ned asked, reaching out to take your hand and seat you back down but you retracted your hand and took a step away.

  “Yeah, sorry, I just need some air,” you apologized and walked towards MJ’s room and opened the window, taking a step onto the fire escape and resting against the metallic railing.

  You looked out into the empty void above you, noticing how it looked the same as it always had. No twinkling lights, no shooting stars, no Jupiter or Mars, no belt. Nothing. Of course, it was hard missing out on the beauty that others took for granted but it was almost worse during the day. Considering the sun was also a star, that meant seeing things during the day was a little difficult for you.

  You wiped at your eyes when you heard MJ’s door open and close behind you but you didn’t bother turning around, already knowing who was there to comfort you.

  She didn’t say anything at first, she just stood there beside you and looked up at, what you were sure, was a beautiful sky. A few minutes passed of her just keeping you company when she finally spoke up.

  “You know they say those that can’t see the sky have been specifically chosen by the gods,” MJ chimed, looking out into your void. “They blessed a few rare spirits with the strongest kind of love, the kind that the celestials wished for themselves but those few spirits could not lay eyes on the gods until they met their soulmate. And since the gods are supposed to live among the stars, they couldn’t see the night’s sky. That was the price they had to pay because they were chosen,”

  You scoffed and looked away from the nothingness, “Chosen for what?”

  MJ shrugged her shoulders, her eyes still glued to the abyss, “Who knows? I just know that the myth says you can’t see the Gods because they’re waiting for you to join them once you’re ready,”

  “So, I have to die?” You asked, your tears long gone but your agony ever present.

  MJ chuckled but shook her head, “No, more like actually meet them. Only heroes meet the Gods.” She turned away from the railing and entered her bedroom through the window, “I know you want it to be Peter,” her voice dropped, trying to explain that she felt the pain I felt once, “But maybe you should just let destiny do its thing,”

  You nodded, too weak to verbally respond to her.

  “We’ll be watching the movie, take your time.” MJ opened the door to her room and halted before leaving, “Oh and uh, you’re not missing much, ya know? With the stars? There’s too much light pollution for you to really see anything anyway,”

  The door shut behind you and you sighed when you were rejoined with silence. You looked up at the darkness above and held out your arms, “The Gods, huh?” You asked, almost trying to speak to them, “What do you want with me? I’m no hero,” you whispered, your brave façade torn apart now.

  You turned around when nothing answered, not that you were expecting a response just that you were hoping for a sign or something. But nothing came so you begrudgingly turned back around and joined your group of friends after shooting Brad a text.

  Hey. I know we agreed on tomorrow but how about tonight in an hour or so?

  You watched the rest of the movie, waiting in anxiousness for a response. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want to go on a date with Brad, you just wanted a distraction from Peter. Especially after how much they were cuddling right now.

  Towards the end of the movie your phone vibrated and you pulled it out of your pocket.

  Sure! I’ll be on my way soon.

  You smiled at the message and sent Brad the address.

  After the movie had ended you stood up to help MJ throw away the lingering garbage.

  “So who was the mystery person you texted during the movie?” Ned piped up, taking the garbage from your hands and tossing it into an empty bin.

  “You were texting someone during the movie?” Liz asked, too occupied with Peter to notice anything, not that you’d blamed her.

  You shrugged your shoulders and walked over to the mirror on the wall to make sure you didn’t look too tired for the date. You didn’t particularly care how you looked, you weren’t even that interested, you just didn’t want to come off as a slob.

  “Brad’s picking me up soon, I just wanted to reschedule because I have a lot of studying to do this weekend and I don’t want to waste another day when I can hit everything on the list tonight,” you admitted.

  MJ smiled at you, “Ooh, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

  “What wouldn’t you do?” You teased, a devilish smirk on your lips.

  “Exactly,” she responded and you all laughed at her retort. All except Peter.

  A few minutes had passed before you heard a knock at the door and you picked your head up as you finished tying your shoes.

  “Wow, he came to the door and everything,” Ned joked, watching for Peter’s reaction.

  “Such a gentleman,” MJ added and opened her front door, “She’s getting ready, you can wait inside if you want,”

  MJ stepped aside and let Brad through the door. You couldn’t help but look him up and down. Although you weren’t attracted to him and he most certainly was not your soulmate, you weren’t afraid to admit he looked good in his outfit. A simple black shirt and jeans with a black jacket thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a Greaser.

  “Nice outfit,” you complimented, throwing your arms through your own jacket and standing in front of him.

  “Oh, this? It was nothing,” he joked but you could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed that he was nervous.

  “Alright, get out of here,” MJ shooed you both through her front door, “I want her home by eleven!” MJ said sternly and you knew she’d wait for a text from you to let her know you were perfectly safe.

  “Have fun!” Liz shouted as MJ shut the door behind the two of you.

~

  The date with Brad ended up going okay. There was nothing particularly wrong with him and he tried his hardest to impress you but you just didn’t connect with him in any way so when the date came to a close you denied a ride home and opted to walk home instead. You knew it was stupid and practically asking for danger but you just wanted some fresh air to clear your head. Much to Brad’s insistence, you couldn’t walk home without calling him first and having him on the line until you reached your destination. You appreciated his kindness and agreed to his terms, knowing that it was probably safer that was as well.

  You walked the streets of the city and barely took in your surroundings as your thoughts flooded your head and sidetracked your mind. It was only when you heard a thud that you lifted your head and looked to the now occupied space to your right.

  Your eyes widened as you recognized the blue and red suit and you took a side step before muting your phone.

  “Hi!” He chirped up quickly, the whites that were his eyes on the mask squinted slightly as he waved at you, “Uh, I know this is random but I just noticed you walking by yourself and wanted to know if you were okay,”

  You stared in shock at the masked man and took a step towards the street, “How do I know that you’re not some crazy dude in a mask?”

  “Well, I mean, I kind of am,” He responded and managed to crack a small smile from you.

  “Okay well then how do I know you’re the Spider-Man?” You asked, raising your eyebrow.

  He raised his hand and shot a web at the nearest streetlamp and flung himself around it, landing back at your side. “Proof enough?” He asked.

  “Maybe,” you said jokingly and continued walking at a steady pace.

  “Well is maybe good enough to walk you home?” He insisted.

  You looked him up and down with suspicion but slowly nodded your head and stuffed you phone into your backpack to avoid it flying out. Spider-Man held out his hand for you and brought you close to him. You could feel the warmth radiate from his chest as it pressed against yours and you melted into his arms. There was a welcoming feeling about him that you’d never experienced in anyone else’s arms, it was weird and sudden but familiar and not unwelcome.

  He stiffened for a split second before relaxing and letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “You ready?” He barely spoke above a whisper.

  “Are you sure you can carry me?” You asked last minute and was answered with being flung in the air as Spider-Man slung from building to building and you held on for dear life as the city blurred past you. A few screams managed to escape your lips but you held the rest in as the fear turned to excitement and you embraced the way the ride felt.

  You managed to let him know where your building was, although he was somehow already going in the right direction, and he placed you down on the railing that you said was outside your window.

  “Thank you,” you said, trying to fix your hair and wrapped your arms around yourself when it began to turn cold from the wind.

  “No problem,” he said, his hand going to the back of his head, “Thanks for letting me walk you home,”

  You laughed, “Yeah, well, you can walk me home anytime,” you joked and unlatched your window with the magnet you carried around.

  You stepped into your room and grabbed your blanket before stepping back outside and thanking Brad for staying on the phone with you but that you were home and safe and sound. You managed to leave out the part where Spider-Man was the one that accompanied you home and hung up.

  “So who’s this Brad?” Spider-Man asked, resting against the railing.

  You rolled your eyes, “Just this one guy. He asked me out earlier today and I was just coming back from the date when you picked me up,”

  “A date?” he asked, “And he let you walk home alone?”

  “Not necessarily, I basically had to beg him to let me walk home. I just needed some air to think for a minute,”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” He asked, sitting on the stairs beside your window.

  You shrugged your shoulders and failed to meet his gaze, or what you thought was his gaze, “I’ve just got a few things on my mind, is all,”

  Spider-Man nodded and slowly stood up, “Well I can leave you to your thoughts if that’s what you’d like,”

  “No!” You said, grabbing his hand and holding him in place but then blushing at your action and letting go despite your body telling you not to, “I would actually really like some company right now,” you admitted, feeling your knuckles turn white from the strength of your grasp.

  He stood there for a second, contemplating what you said but nodded and sat back down, “Then my company is what you’ll get,”

  You smiled up at him and the part inside of you that was screaming for his presence subsided a little. You pulled out your phone and sent MJ a text letting her know that you were okay and you were home.

  You talked to Spider-Man about your friends and family, letting him know things about you that you wouldn’t normally tell someone you just met. And he reciprocated by telling you as much as possible without giving away who he was.

  “There’s this one guy,” you started, your cheeks blushing at the thought of Peter, “I’ve had feelings for him for years now,”

  “Years!?” Spider-Man teased, “Who is it?”

  You rolled your eyes, “Like I’m gonna tell you! You probably know him,” you joked, taking a swig of your water bottle and handing him the one he asked for.

  “How would I know him?” He chuckled.

  “I don’t know but you could!” You responded, not budging on telling this kid who your heart belonged to.

  “Can I get a hint?” He asked.

  You smiled but went silent for a minute, “The only thing I’m telling you is that it’s unrequited,” you responded and your smile faded.

  The previous light-hearted ambiance dissolved to be replaced with silence, “He’d be an idiot to not like you,”

  You chuckled at that, “You don’t even know me,”

  He cocked his head slightly but then nodded as if remembering something, “Well, you’ve told me quite a bit about yourself tonight and from what I gather I like you,”

  Your heart leapt for some reason and you cursed yourself for letting simple words like that excite you, “Well he’s also not my soulmate,” you responded, “So it doesn’t even matter,”

  “What’s your indication?” He asked, scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

  You wanted to tell him, you really did, but your embarrassment kept your mouth shut, “Nothing, I’m not even sure I have one,”

  “Everyone has an Indicator,” he said, leaning closer to you.

  You shook your head and stood up slowly, “Maybe another night,” you offered and took a step into your room, “Thank you for keeping me company tonight. I really enjoyed talking to you,”

  He lifted his arm to reach out to you but quickly decided against it, “No problem, I liked talking to you too,”

  You watched as he hopped onto the railing and just as he was about to jump off you cried out, “Wait!” He stopped his motion and turned his head to look at you, “Will I see you again?”

  You could see a smirk form through his mask and he turned back around, “Sooner than you’d think,” he said and jumped off the railing before swinging around the corner of the building and leaving you there wishing that he’d come back.