#no offense but jacket is a lame name

[wenniebees]

nyan nyan drew for me since i asked so nicely ! I think i did i dont eemember , , follow them for more on twitter hashtag ruinedsequence ( insanely offline )

[starlingsrps]

dance the night away.

after the swearing in and lunch and parade and getting ready for the balls, lizzie asks emma and david why they aren’t tired because she’s exhausted.

david drily says poppers.

emma shrugs. she doesn’t know how the whole of inauguration day wouldn’t be exciting enough to fuel her to for days.

it’s also her birthday and emma never says die on her birthday. 

she’ll be living in the freaking white house - excuse her, the residence - with their parents so the hair and makeup team for emma and lizzie have taken over her bedroom and bathroom. david lounges on a window seat and runs his fingers over the sill, claiming that he’s digging for initials carved by the nixon girls. he’s excited and she’s excited and she’s sure lizzie is excited too but lizzie has always taken on the gravity of a situation so the two of them don’t have to. her code name is dove, which is lame but appropriate.

“emmy, you shouldn’t have any more coffee,” she calls from her makeup chair, trying to talk while her eyelashes are curled at the same time. “we’re going to have to peel you off of the ceiling.”

emma and david roll their eyes at each other and rattle the ice in their matching venti iced americanos. emma has never spent a single formal event without a massive caffeine rush and david usually has one around six anyway. lizzie, with her single diet coke, won’t make it to ten.

“i’m fine, lizzie,” emma calls. she’s already done with hair and makeup and the only thing left is to get zipped into her offensively

gorgeous gown. her mother had wanted them to be monochromatic red, white, and blue - lizzie in burgundy, david in navy, emma in camel (the stylist had declared it close enough) - but for the ball, meredith lawrence had simply pleaded them to be tasteful. david is wearing a black velvet jacket, lizzie a glittery metallic ralph lauren that she had protested as too slinky at first (emma saw her preening in the mirror of the fitting room over her protests and had bullied her into it), and emma…well, it had to be hot pink.

“liz, you want a bump or something or are you going to keep being lame?” david yells from his perch.

“david, i swear to god if you brought drugs in the white house…” lizzie has marched out of the bathroom, wearing the same white robe as emma, but as lizzie is tall and dark and looks like a model when she tries, it’s a very different effect - less slumber party, more vogue get ready with me. emma has always wanted her big sister to adore her but she’s always felt unruly and rambunctious compared to her cool, collected air that it’s easier to ally herself with david.

he snorts and gets up, crossing the room to kiss her on top of the head. “of course not. gave that shit up years ago. meet you two in the living room, wherever the fuck that is.”

lizzie shakes her head and sighs, giving emma a tired smile. “zip me, i’ll zip you?”

there are eleven official balls and emma lost track of the unofficial ones weeks ago. their car follows their parents to the first three before they get cut loose - lizzie sticks with mom and dad while emma and david take advantage of the freedom. the young democrats ball has the best music so they plant their flag there for the rest of the night. 

emma has never been to a ball before and if the first three had been exciting and the young democrats fun, by one am, it feels like prom. she’s crashing, her feet hurt, and she’s lost her date - david vanished about an hour ago and she doesn’t think she’s allowed to just call an uber anymore and she likes her security detail just fine but…she’s also not sure where clive is. she has to assume he knows where she is. she’s tired and she doesn’t want to admit it - not when lizzie is probably already home and tucked in bed after a full skincare routine and ready to pounce with the “when did you get in” question over breakfast. david is surely already invited to at least three after parties and she knows that he can go for twenty four hours, easy.

but she’s tired and it’s not her birthday or inauguration day anymore so she feels like she’s allowed. she orders an uber, texts david that she’s leaving, collects her wrap, and goes out to the front of the hotel to wait.

“where are you going?”

she shoots a scowl over her shoulder and goes back to scanning the street for a blue fiesta. “home. thanks.”

the tuxedo wearing guy comes down the steps a bit further. “you’re emma lawrence, right?”

“yeah and i’m really sorry but i can’t get you in to meet my dad so…”

he snorts. “i’m in the west wing, thanks. i don’t think you’re supposed to take ubers when you’re the president’s kid, are you?”

“well, chelsea clinton wrote the manual pre-uber and i don’t trust the bush twins as far as i can throw them. i’m flying blind here.”

“do you know where your…agent or handler or whatever it is is?” he asks. “i feel like i’m supposed to deliver you back to him.”

“no idea. wait, what department? i’m not listening to a dork in transportation.”

“white house counsel,” he says, sounding almost offended. “casey. come on, i’ll help you find him. can’t have you getting kidnapped on your first day.”

“second day. and how do i know you’re not an international terrorist?”

casey mutters something under his breath that sounds like “for fuck’s sake”. “i’m just not.”

she swallows a tart remark and lets him lead her back inside. if she’s going to be kidnapped, it’s probably more likely going to be by an international terrorist in a fiesta than by a department of justice flunky in black tie. when she opens her phone to cancel the uber, there’s a text from david telling her that clive is looking for her and to send him her location. she takes her time, canceling the car and torpedoing her rating, before texting him that she’s by the ice sculpture of an eagle.

“so,” she asks casey, tapping her phone on her open palm. he’s pretty hot for a flunky - a little ken doll in the face but he has gorgeous hair and nice eyes. “you here with anyone?”

“my sister,” he says after what she can only call a Look. lizzie gives her the same one when she’s being a brat - they could probably compare notes. “you?”

she flushes. “my brother.”

his eyebrows arch. “all the more reason for you to stay put."

“you’re very concerned about me getting kidnapped for someone who isn’t an international terrorist.”

clive, all brick shithouse muscles and resting bitch face that belies a heart that loves snickerdoodles and beyoncé, comes thundering through the lingering crowd before casey can address that remark. he looks more annoyed than mad and emma will take that as a win. “miss lawrence, you can’t take an uber.”

“lyft?” emma asks, knowing the answer.

clive shakes his head. “same thing. if you want to return to the residence or go to another location, tell me.”

emma gives him a snappy salute. “deal. do you need a ride?”

casey looks a little surprised. “uh…”

clive nods. “you can get a ride.”

“i’m okay, thanks. i need to go find my sister anyway.”

emma wiggles her fingers at him in good bye. “bye casey! see you around!”

he looks over his shoulder and waves, looking deeply confused about the past ten minutes of his life.

clive clears his throat and emma turns back to him. “phone.”

she rolls her eyes and hands it over, watching as he deletes all of her ride sharing apps. 

“man, even bumble?”

“even bumble,” he says, handing it back.

[kythed]

an age of miracles

synopsis: why do the most beautiful people always seem to get the short end of the stick? 

tagged: atsumu miya x reader, mentions of illness, mentions of god.  

commitment level: 3,617 words.

hospitals are liminal spaces. transitional, gateways between birth and death and the whole mess in between. (life.) they’re sites of both tragedy and miraculous recovery, and you’re not yet too old to stop praying for the latter. 

+

his name is atsumu. you skim the documents pinned to his door — atsumu miya. age 21. cirrhosis. 

cirrhosis is late stage liver scarring. nasty stuff. evidently, atsumu miya is in his third stage — portal hypertension. abdominal swelling. jaundice. 

for a bedridden guy with a serious illness, he’s not as justifiably depressed as one might assume. 

“hey, doc,” he says when you come in. he’s facing the window, letting the sunlight cast a saintly halo across his cheeks. blonde hair, an angular sort of face that’s been hollowed by illness. in another life, he might’ve been handsome. 

you clear your throat, and he glances back, surprised. “ah. you’re not my doctor.” 

“nope. nursing student.” you sit at the foot of his bed. “i’ll be monitoring you the next month or so as part of my studies.”

“monitoring,” he repeats drily. “you make it sound like i’m a lab specimen in a test tube.”

“means you’re special.” 

“sure. ‘specially fucked up.” he’s younger than you are, but there’s an aged weariness in his gaze. 

“aren’t we all, mr. miya?” 

he cracks a grin. “touche. call me atsumu, though. mr. miya’s my dad.”

“as you wish, mr. miya,” you say, biting back a smile. (there are those who say sarcasm has no place in hospitals. you do not fall into this category.)

+

atsumu likes to play chess. the second day of your clinical, he’s got a travel sized chess board set up on his bedside table. “been dying from boredom the past few hours. think you could take a break from ‘monitoring’ me to play a game?”

you set your clipboard down. “i could. i’d advise against it, though. i’m a pretty good player.”

atsumu grins. “not better than me.” 

he’s right. he beats you three games in a row before you finally snag a checkmate. (and you suspect this is only due to pity.) 

“what’d i tell you, baby?” he crows, and you shake your head, raising your arms in surrender.

“it was an off day. if i’d been on my game i could’ve swept the floor with you.”

“prove it,” atsumu says, leaning forward. he’s pale from a lack of sunshine, but you notice a faint pink glow in his cheeks now. “come back tomorrow.”

tomorrow’s a saturday, and you don’t have clinical. “of course i will.” 

you’re not one to back down from a challenge, no matter how trivial. plus, atsumu is fun. (and kind of cute.) 

+

“hi. brought you something.” you set a tupperware of cubed fruit on atsumu’s lap before pulling up a chair next to the bed. 

“did you make this?” he says, eyes wide. 

“i just chopped up a few apples and stuff,” you say, plucking a blueberry from the container and popping it into your mouth. 

atsumu shakes his head before biting into a chunk of pineapple. “you’d think it’d be hard to mess up fruit salad, but somehow this damn hospital can make a strawberry taste like cough medicine. everything they serve here tastes like cough medicine, actually.” 

“delicious.” 

“disgusting.” atsumu sets up the chess board. “so, like, thanks. for the fruit. can i keep the tupperware?”

you laugh. “why do you wanna keep the tupperware?” 

“it’s a reminder of normality.” atsumu shrugs. “i only ever eat off chipped hospital dishes here.” 

your chest throbs. “oh, atsumu.” 

“don’t you ‘oh, atsumu’ me,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“sorry. yeah, you can keep it.”

(he wins at chess again.)

+

you’re only required to come in to the hospital three times a week, but you get into the habit of visiting atsumu every day. the first time you visit after class, you’re wearing a sweater and jeans. atsumu wolf whistles.

“damn. you look good when you’re not in scrubs.” 

“are you saying i don’t rock scrubs?” you press a hand to your chest in mock offense. 

“nobody looks good in scrubs,” atsumu says. “except for me, probably. i look good in anything.” 

you laugh. “i believe it.” 

“you’d better.” atsumu has a nice smile, you notice, wide and shiny. 

you plop yourself down beside him on the bed. “hey, you wanna see a picture i took on the way here? i found a stray cat near the convenience store.” 

“i’m a dog person,” atsumu says, but he nonetheless leans forward to get a look at your phone. “oh, cute.” 

“isn’t he?” you say, zooming in on the little orange cat. “i think i’m gonna name him after you.” 

“what?” atsumu huffs. “why?”

“because he’s good at chess,” you say. 

atsumu furrows his brow. “you played chess with a cat?”

“no, i just have a feeling,” you hum, and atsumu rolls his eyes with a small smile. 

“you’re stupid.” 

you slip your phone back into your pocket. “in a cute way, though.” 

“if you say so,” atsumu says, and you flick his shoulder. “ouch. way to bully a sick man.” 

“you deserved it,” you laugh, and he joins in.

“yeah, i did.” 

+

the next time you visit, atsumu’s family is there. his parents have kind, tired faces. 

“nice to meet you,” his mom says, grasping your hand warmly. “i’m glad atsumu has a friend here.”

“mom,” complains atsumu. “i have friends.” 

“none as cool as me, though,” you tease, and he smiles.

“you’re right,” he says, and his dad rumples his hair before turning to shake your hand. 

“it’s great to meet you, mr. miya,” you say, returning the shake. 

“the pleasure’s mine,” he says. he looks nearly identical to atsumu, just a little grayer. right next to him, there’s a boy who really does look exactly identical to atsumu, though his hair’s dyed dark and he’s a little more filled out. he has an air of begrudging maturity about him, the telltale sign of a young man who’s been forced to carry burdens that aren’t his. 

“i’m osamu,” he says. he’s sitting on the chair near atsumu’s bed. “this little asshole’s brother.”

“i don’t know why you keep calling me little,” atsumu says, lightly punching osamu’s forearm. “i’m the older twin.” 

“yeah, but you act like a baby.” osamu grins and leans out of reach when atsumu tries to swat at him. you chuckle behind a hand, leaning back against the wall as mr. and mrs. miya question you about your studies and hobbies. 

on your way out of the hospital a half hour later, you run into osamu at the lobby coffee shop. 

“so,” he says, sipping from a steaming cup. “you’re a nursing student?”

“mm,” you say, handing a fiver to the cashier to pay for your sandwich. “i’m in my fourth year at hyogo university. are you in college, too?”

“nah,” says osamu. “i play volleyball. professionally, i mean.”

“oh!” you notice the lettering on his sports jacket for the first time. msby black jackals. “that’s really cool.”

osamu shrugs. “sometimes it is. tsumu’s wanted to be a pro player since we were kids — but he won’t ever be able to do that now, of course. so that’s why i play. better to have one miya in the pro circuit than none at all.” 

your heart sinks. “you’re a great brother, osamu.”

osamu shakes his head. “i’m really not. it should’ve been me in that hospital bed.”

“osamu…” you trail off as osamu just shakes his head, giving you a sad smile. 

“it was nice meeting you,” he says before tossing his cup and heading back towards the elevators. 

+

“no,” atsumu says staunchly, crossing his arms. “definitely not. i don’t read.” 

“come on,” you wheedle, dangling the book in front of his face. “it’s one of my favorites, and i thought it might stave off some of that stifling boredom you always complain about.”

“i’m bored, but not that bored,” atsumu says, squinting at the book. “what is that about, anyways? the little prince? sounds lame.”

“it’s not lame,” you promise, bouncing slightly on the bed. atsumu sniffs. “okay, what if i read it to you? you don’t have to do anything but listen.”

“i’m not a child.” 

“you’re acting like one.”

atsumu throws his hands up in defeat. “alright, fine. you win. we can read the little prince.”

“excellent.” you beam. “scoot over?”

“what?” atsumu says, but he scoots to the side of his bed as you kick your shoes off and curl up next to him. you feel his breath hitch as he lightly lets his arm curve around your waist. 

you sigh, content, and flip to read the first page. “once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…”

+

it takes three visits to finish the entire story. atsumu sniffles when you read the last line, rubbing his eyes furiously.

“did he die?”

you trace a light circle on atsumu’s palm, smiling slightly. “i don’t know. i think it’s up to the reader to decide. he left his body, but is that really death? or is it just… moving on?” 

“i think he just moved on,” insists atsumu. “he moved on and returned to the stars. he was just a kid. he was too young to have died.” 

“look at you,” you tease, and atsumu flushes. “waxing on poetic.”

“it was good,” atsumu says gruffly. “thank you.” 

“you’re welcome,” you breathe, and when atsumu buries his face in your neck, you realize he’s crying. 

+

he kisses you for the first time a week later. it’s late in the afternoon, and both your faces are tinged with gold. he slips a hand beneath your jaw, and you let him slowly guide your lips to meet his. they’re soft, hesitant, and sweet, pressing against yours with an uncharacteristic shyness. 

you sigh happily when he pulls you forward to straddle his lap, slipping your hands into his thick blonde hair, letting him press light kisses down the length of your neck. 

“hey, beautiful,” he breathes into your collarbone, and you laugh. 

“hey, pretty boy. nice to see you today.” 

+

atsumu’s discovered a newfound love for reading ever since you read the little prince outloud to him. you’ve been bringing him secondhand books from the thrift store near your house, and now there’s a sizeable stack of novels out on the table. 

“i think i’ve read more in the past couple months than i ever read in high school,” he admits, running a finger down the spine of treasure island. “you’ve turned me into a nerd.”

“you’re welcome,” you say, straightening his collar.

“it’s kind of nice, though,” he says thoughtfully, tossing the book back on the table. “to read about all these different people, all the things they do. all the stories i’m never gonna get to experience.”

“you’re getting to experience them through reading,” you correct. “that’s the beauty of fiction.”

atsumu laughs. “you’re such a sap.” 

“it’s true,” you insist. “god knows life is too short to live through everything we’d like to. that’s why he gave us imagination.”

“do you believe in god?” atsumu asks softly. his stare grows distant.

you think for a moment. “sometimes i do. do you?”

“same. sometimes.” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “sometimes i wonder, though… like, if there’s a god, why does he hate me?” 

you chew on your cheek. “why do you feel hated?” 

atsumu laughs a laugh tinged with slight bitterness. “sweetheart… i’m not going to live past twenty-five, if even that.” 

you swallow the knot in your throat, letting it sink deep into your stomach where it sits like a lump of copper. “well… the little prince is less than a hundred pages. sometimes the shortest books are the best reads.” 

atsumu nods silently. he’s not convinced. you’re not sure if you are, either. 

+

atsumu sleeps a lot these days. you spend as much time with him as you can, but more often than not, he’s in a half conscious daze, curled up beneath the white hospital comforter. during these times, you just set your backpack by the door the slip into bed next to him, wrapping yourself around his back and pressing your palms to his chest just to feel his heartbeat. it’s faint, but it’s steady and rhythmic. ba-dump. ba-dump. ba-dump. 

sometimes, atsumu’s his usual, lively self, cracking bad jokes and poking fun at you. his smiling face has come to be your favorite picture. on these days, you bring him a hot chocolate from the coffee shop and split it with him, kissing off the whipped cream that finds its way onto his lips. he still likes to play chess, and, though he won’t admit it, you’ve been getting better. one day, you beat him, two games to one. 

there are solemn, quiet times, and there are bright, cheerful times, but you savor all of them. every moment spent with atsumu is valuable in your book. occasionally, you’ll go with him out into the hospital garden, into the warmth of the sun. every so often he’ll stop, lean on you to catch his breath, but he never complains. 

“look,” he’ll say instead, pointing at a vine of jasmine, or a single daisy swaying in the breeze. “almost as pretty as you.” 

+

one day, as you’re leaving atsumu’s room, you run into his doctor in the hall. 

“keep your chin up,” she says, straightening her glasses. “it’s possible he could still recover. strong young men often do.” 

you nod slowly. “is he going to need a transplant?”

“well,” says the doctor, clicking on her pen absentmindedly. “if it gets any worse, yes. but i’m going to be honest with you — it’s unlikely we’ll find a donation with both a matching blood type and in good condition.”

“ah.”

“so just hope for the best.” she slips into his room before you can say another word, leaving you to lean heavily against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. miracles happen every day, you remind yourself. there’s no reason atsumu shouldn’t be the recipient of one. 

+

“hey,” atsumu says. he whispers your name with an unusual tenderness. “i have to talk to you.”

it’s been five months since you first met atsumu on a clinical, and it’s been three months since he began to call you his girlfriend. you lace your fingers between his, giving his hand a light squeeze. “yeah, ‘tsumu?”

he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “i don’t think i’m going to… be here much longer.” 

“no,” you say, chest tightening. “don’t say that. you’re gonna be fine.” 

“sweetheart,” he says, voice low. he takes your chin and firmly turns your head to look at him. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i just… i’m sick. it’s hard to think straight sometimes, so i just wanted to tell you before i can’t anymore.”

“tell me what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“tell you that i love you.” 

“atsumu,” you breathe. a frustrated tear finds its way down your cheek. “i… i love you, too. but please… just hang on. they’ll find a donor. they have to.”

“they might not,” he says, and he smiles, pulling you close. you knot your hands in the front of his t-shirt, pressing your face to his chest. “don’t cry. i’m just going to go live in the stars, right? like the little prince.” 

there’s so many things you want to say, like, you nerd, can’t believe you’re making literary allusions or shut up, asshole, or i’ll miss you if you do, but you say nothing, because if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll just sob. 

“don’t cry,” he says again, but he’s crying, and you lift your face to see the tears streaming. “i love you.” 

your throat is too thick to say it back, but he sees it in your eyes. i love you, too. 

+

you spend the rest of the night with him before leaving at a little past 2am, and the next morning, you get a text from osamu. 

he’s gone. 

you don’t cry at the funeral. it’s small, just his family, a group of close friends, and you. you don’t look in the casket, either, because you want to remember his smile, and empty bodies don’t. you sip on a paper cup of water and lean against a wall, where osamu finds you. 

“hey,” he says, and you nod in return. “he left this for you.” 

you take the letter from him, and after he gives your shoulder a squeeze and heads back to his parents, you tear it open. 

hey, you. i’m writing this two months after you first came into my room in that god-awful set of scrubs. right now, you’re napping in the chair near my bed. you look cute. we had our first kiss last week, and i’m still walking on air. fuck, that sounds dorky. oh, well. guess i’m a dork. only for you, though. 

anyways, if you’re reading this, it’s because i’ve died. whoop-dee-doo. i’ve moved on to the great beyond. i’ve fallen past the veil. whatever it is you nerds like to say. there are probably things i’m going to say to you in the next few months that are a little more… intimate, i guess? but i wanted to tell you this while it’s still fresh in my mind: you’ve honest-to-goodness saved my life. i mean, it might not go on for much longer, sure, but you really have, in a way. being sick is weird. it makes you a lot more sensitive to miracles. 

you start. you don’t remember ever talking to atsumu about miracles.

someone from the outside might look at me and call me unlucky, but i feel pretty damn lucky right now. meeting you was without a doubt a miracle, and if i never got sick, it never would’ve happened. take that as you will, i guess. all i know is i’m not angry at god, even though maybe i should be. i mean, i’m still not sure he’s even out there. but there’s gotta be something, or someone, because how the fuck else could i have possibly recieved something so… great? i sure as hell never did something to deserve it. (god, i sound stupid. but it’s just hard to chalk up to coincidence.) 

anyways, i love you. not sure i’ll ever get the guts to say that out loud, so i’m saying it here. i love you, and i hope you love me, too. 

- atsumu

“i do,” you whisper. “i do.” 

+

on your way home, you stop at the convenience store for a bottled water, and the little orange cat comes out and winds itself around your leg, purring. 

“hey, ‘tsumu,” you say, squatting down to scratch its head. “fancy a game of chess?”

it meows back. 

“yeah?” your eyes grow wet, and you wipe them on the sleeve of your sweater. “wanna come home with me?”

it meows again, and this time, you break out into full scale crying. you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can see a tear in the cat’s eye, too. 

he follows you home, and the next day, you purchase a water dish, a big bag of cat food, and a blue collar. (blue was atsumu’s favorite color.)

+

three years later. 

“honey?” 

“yeah?”

your husband comes out from the hall, buttoning up his shirt. “you almost ready to go?” 

“almost, ‘samu,” you say, slipping on a bracelet. your hands are shaking, and he notices it, too. today’s the third anniversary of atsumu’s death, and it’s also the date of osamu’s first big press conference. “he’d be so proud of you, you know.” 

osamu smiles. “he would. he’d be proud of you, too.”

you laugh. “what for? for marrying his little brother?”

“no, he’d probably be kind of pissed at me,” osamu jokes, before coming to stand behind you. he wraps his hands around your waist. “he’d be proud of you for finding happiness, i think.” 

“i am happy,” you say, tilting your head as osamu presses a kiss to your temples. there’s a beat of silence. “but i miss him.”

“i do, too.” osamu rests his chin on your head. “he probably misses us.”

“mm,” you say. “i think he might be having too much fun for that, actually.” 

“maybe,” says osamu, and he leans forward to grab the keys from the counter. “i’m gonna go heat up the car, okay?” 

“sounds good,” you say, as the cat dashes into the room with a meow. a nameplate that reads ‘tsumu’ dangles from his collar. “oh, hey kitty. i forgot to feed you. i’ll be out in a minute!” 

after you fill the cat’s dish and pull on a cardigan over your dress, you slip outside, shivering in the night air. the sky is clear and full of stars, and as you walk to the car, you crane your neck up to see. 

“hope you’re doing well, ‘tsumu,” you whisper to the gleaming constellations. 

you still have things you want to say to him, even after all these years. you want to ask him how the weather in the cosmos is, and if the fruit salad is better up there. you want to ask if he’s read any good books lately, or if he’s seen how great osamu’s serve has gotten recently. you want to laugh with him. 

most of all, though, you want to let him know that he was your miracle, too.

[xmyshya]

Shoved it: chapter IV - Boardslide

summary: You don’t like skaters. They’re unruly, misbehaved and rude. But this one encounter just might change your view. genre: fluff warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (seriously, make a dentist appointment), slow burn, mutual pining betas: @vanille–kiss​ you have no idea how much I love you and how grateful I am for everything that you do for me a/n: Written for ANILYSIUM (former HQHQ) Server Collab with the prompt “Meet Ugly”. Check the event’s masterlist here! series navi: masterlist | previous | next wc: 1.5k

Maybe he shouldn’t have left like this, maybe he should have woken you up and told you to rest, or maybe he shouldn’t care at all, you were not even friends after all. The borrowed clothes he carries in his bag must weigh a ton, a slump of his shoulder more evident than ever.

Rin doesn’t really expect anything; he drags his feet to the bus, to the school building, through the halls, telling himself it’s not the tingling sensation on his hand where you touched him yesterday that kept him up all night.

He must be delirious from exhaustion, because he keeps hearing your voice calling his name - something you’ve never done, and most probably never will. But it’s a lunch break, and if he’s quick enough, he might have some time left for a nap. If those idiot twins let him, at least.

“Suna!” There’s a pull on his sleeve. “I finally caught you!”

You’re bent in half in front of him, hands on your knees and panting. But when you straighten up, he swears your smile is brighter than sunshine.

“Wow, even when you’re this sleepy, you sure walk fast! Must be because of your long legs!”

Is it that obvious that he’s so tired? Are you really talking to him right now, or is it just a somnolent illusion?

“Listen, I wanted to thank you. And apologise.”

“What for?”

“Thanks or apology?”

“Both.” His teasing smirk is back on his lips.

“Thank you for yesterday. For the food, for cleaning, for the blanket,” you blush at those words, “and for the note, too. And I’m sorry, because I wasn’t fair to you. I judged you before getting to know you.”

You’re not looking at him, your eyes directed at your feet, fingers fiddling with the hem of your jacket. God, you’re so adorable right now. Against his own will, as if his body knew better, Rintarou puts his palm on top of your head.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Hey, uhm… You want to eat together?”

It feels weird not being pursued. You’ve passed Suna a few times in the halls, but he didn’t seem to notice you. Not even once. He didn’t even react to his name, and at this point you’re ready to give up. Don’t, your mind tells you. Keep trying.

At last, by some miracle, you catch him alone at a lunch break. Even though the drag of his feet is obvious, the strides he makes are long enough to give you trouble catching up. It only succeeds when you jog a little, but it leaves you breathless. Wow, your form is really embarrassing.

So in the end he isn’t mad at you, he isn’t tired of you, he’s just… spaced out. The thought makes you giddy and you can’t help the words flowing off your tongue. All of a sudden you feel shy, images from the last evening flashing in your mind, and your face is on fire. You can’t look him in the eyes.

But Rintarou doesn’t seem to mind, there’s a lighthearted tone in his voice when he responds and he even pats your head. Wait, what? He’s already gone from your sight when you come to your senses, but still close enough to hear you.

“Hey, uhm… You want to eat together?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, why? Why did you say that? Suna freezes and looks back at you, blinks once, then twice, and smiles.

“Yeah, sure.”

***

Since then you’ve been keeping each other company at lunch from time to time. Most often you still eat in your friends’ group, but there are days with just the two of you, and these are your favourites. You sit in a comfortable silence on a schoolyard, either on one of the benches or on the grass under a tree.

Today however, you’re accompanied by Suna’s friends, the infamous twins, and it’s far from peaceful. They appeared out of nowhere, driven by curiosity of their friend’s whereabouts, not expecting the reason to be… a girl. The blond one seems to be particularly amused, and can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Oh? All alone in here? Just the two of you?”

Your embarrassment only instigates the other one.

“Hmm? Do you do this often?”

Brothers burst into laughter at the sight of Suna’s betrayed expression. They join without asking, making themselves comfortable in the shade of a tree. It’s loud, twins’ banter never ends, but you don’t mind. It’s refreshing and entertaining, and soon enough you laugh your head off at their antics.

“Oh, btw Sunarin,” Atsumu the ever enthusiastic one pipes up, “what was that super cool trick ya did recently?”

“Eh? You mean tre?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Can ya show me?”

His eyes blazed like fireworks, and Rin knows there is no way for him to weasel out of this.

“Can I… Can I tag along?”

All three snap their heads in your direction.

***

You’re gathered in a shady alley in a park - you on the bench, boys on the pathway. They’re warming up, just riding back and forth and then repeating some basics (as they tell you, because for you it all looks impressive) over and over, until they feel confident enough to move on.

At first Atsumu asks Suna to show the thing again, so he does, doing something with his feet as he jumps, and the board spins around before Rin lands on it. You have no idea what’s just happened, you have no idea how that happened, all you know is that it looked amazing.

Rin sees your eyes widen and freaks out. You’re watching him. You’re watching him. You’re going to witness his every move, every success, every fail, and he can’t help but feel frustrated. What if you think he’s lame? What if you laugh? What if you… Why does he even care?

“Okay guys,” he shifts his focus elsewhere, “so first you need your feet like this, focus on the one in the back. Pressure on toes, scooping position. Then you need to pop and shove the board with your backfoot. And you need to flick your ankle, too.”

The twins proceed to try, time after time, fail after fail. He just wants to sit next to you, leave those idiots behind instead of babysitting them. Maybe that’s exactly what he should do, maybe that’s what he’s going to do.

“Tired already?”

You ask Suna as he plops down next to you and hums in response. His feet are still on the board, rolling it mindlessly under the bench, and even though he still wears his usual disinterested expression, his eyes are sharply focused on the other two boys. Sometimes the corner of his lips curls up in a lopsided smirk, and eyes glint in amusement when one of them fails particularly hard.

“Yo, Romeo, some tips maybe?”

Atsumu’s frustrated groan brings your attention back to them and their attempts. His brother is doing better than him, and the blond hates losing. Especially to him. You blush furiously at the nickname.

“Nah, figure it out yourself.”

Suna looks bored for a moment, watching his friend fuming with offense, but then he laughs.

“You gotta stick your toes more out of the edge. And shift your weight to the back.”

Osamu gets it first. Few more landed tries and he joins you on the bench, stretching out his long legs. Atsumu still tries. And tries. And tries. Until it’s time for you to head home and boys insist on walking you to the bus stop.

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

Today you’ve been unusually quiet. He knows that you don’t talk much, just like him, but today you seem to be lost in thoughts. Rin’s been keeping an eye on you throughout the day, watching your spaced out expression every time your face flashed among the students.

He’s worried - is it something he did? Maybe he should apologise just in case, but skimming through your conversations earlier, he can’t find anything. It’s also not like you seemed to be mad at him, never avoiding his presence, so perhaps he wasn’t the reason.

Maybe you’re facing a problem and trying to find a solution, but would you consider it overstepping if he offered help? He doesn’t want to pry if it’s personal, doesn’t want to poke his nose in your family affairs, doesn’t want to meddle if it’s about a crush.

So for now Rintarou just stays close, hoping that his presence would convey whatever his words can’t. He’s there for you even now, walking with you to the bus stop, and maybe it’s been working because you finally speak.

“Hey, Suna?”

“Hmm?”

Then come the words he thought he’d never hear from you.

“Would you… Teach me how to skate?”

Taglist: @kageyamas-love @mikasbloodbag @underratedmage

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Parent Trap

Part 1

A/N: It’s here yall. The Marcus Moreno x Reader Parent Trap AU. There are some swears. Some point of view switching but I note it in bold. 

‘Thoughts’ “Speak” 

The Hero:

Marcus Moreno was in the middle of meeting with the Heroics. Going over assignments, and potential threats to be on the lookout. He was listening to Miracle Guy talk about something ridiculous when his cellphone went off. He glanced down, and his eyes widen in surprised. It was Missy’s school.

He quickly answered it, saying, “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Moreno? This is Principal O’Shaughnessy. If you could please come down to the school, as soon as possible. There’s been an incident involving your daughter and two other students,” Came an older male voice.

“I’m on my way,” Marcus got up and rushed out, not caring that he left in the middle of a meeting.

The Artist:

Y/N Graves was a simple woman. She worked as artist, which meant she was often home, elbow deep into whatever project she was working on currently. That was where she was when her phone rang.

She dropped her paint brush to answer it with a cheery, “‘Ello?”

“Miss Graves, this is Principal O’Shaughnessy, your daughter Artemis? Was involved in an incident at school with two other students. If you could please come as soon as possible,” Came a man’s voice.

“Be there soon,” She hung up, quickly cleaning her brushes before she left.

She hopped into her car and drove to the school; thankful it was only a couple blocks away. She made her way inside and to the principal’s office. She stops short when she sees her daughter standing near another little girl, with long curly black hair and dark eyes. Before noticing the third kid, a boy, who was sitting in a plastic chair, with a black eye and tissues up his nose to stop the bleeding.

“What the fu—frick?” She whispered taking in everything with slight horror.

Artemis giggled softly at her almost swearing. She goes to say something to her when she felt someone crash into her from behind. She stumbled forward trying to regain her balance. She turned around to yell but stopped.

“Marcus?” She asked staring at a face she hadn’t seen in years.

“Shade?” He parroted calling her by her nickname, one she hadn’t heard in years.

She then asked, “Please tell me that one is not yours,” pointing at the boy.

“No. The other one behind you,” Marcus said with a chuckle.

Before they could say much more a woman with dyed hair, lululemons and a tank top came in, her voice high-pitched with outrage at the sight of her kid.

“What happened to my baby!?” She screeched out.

The Principal cleared his throat at that time, to gain everyone’s attention. Shade moved over to stand by her daughter, as Marcus did the same.

“Mrs. Delaney, it appears that your son was bullying, Miss Moreno here. Miss Moreno tried to walk away from him several times, but your son continued to follow her, and even began shoving her. That was when Miss Graves stepped in, and punched your son,” Mr. O’Shaughnessy explained reading off an incident report.

“Or at least that was what stated from the teacher’s watching. Miss Moreno, would you like to tell us what happened?” He directed his attention to Marcus’ daughter.

“Tommy was teasing me about not having active powers. He kept saying mean things like ‘oh your dad must be disappointed in having a lame daughter.’ And stuff like that. I tried to walk away from him several times, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Artemis came over and told him to go away. When he didn’t, she punched him, telling him to leave me alone,” Missy recounted staring at the ground.

“What lies! My Tommy would never! I hope you plan on punishing them!” Mrs. Delaney exclaimed angrily.

Shade rolled her eyes to the high heavens and stared at this dramatic woman, pointedly.

“My daughter defended her friend. Against a bully. If anyone should be punished, it should be your kid. It’s not our fault you raised an ass,” Shade sassed, crossing her arms.

Mrs. Delaney gasped in exaggerated horror, even going so far as to covering her son’s ears. The girls giggled quietly at her, and Marcus was trying not to laugh.

“Mrs. Graves, if you could please refrain from the foul language. Mrs. Delaney, I have warned you multiple times about Tommy’s behaviors. This is the last straw. He will be suspended for 2 weeks. As for Miss Graves, seeing as this is your first offense, you will get a warning. I do not tolerate fighting on school grounds, got it?” Mr. O’Shaughnessy cut in.

Mrs. Delaney grabbed her son, muttering something ‘I have never..’  and left.

The kids still have a couple hours left of class, but the principal gave them permission to leave early if they wished. The girls went and got their bags and whatever assignments they were going to miss for the day. Marcus and Shade stood outside by the entrance waiting for them.

The Kids:

Missy looked over at Artemis and asked, “So. You saw our parents act weird when they saw each other right?”

Artemis nodded as she grabbed her jacket and bag. “They clearly know each other. Did you see the way they looked at each?”

“All goo-goo eyed? Yes! I haven’t seen my dad look like that since…” Missy trailed off, thinking in her head, ‘since before my mom passed away.’

Artemis, who had made fast friends with Missy when she moved here a month ago, knew what she was thinking of. Artemis reached out and held her hand, giving it a small squeeze. Missy smiled at her in response and the 2 of them walked out to their parents.

Artemis looked at her mom and Missy’s dad and got an idea, “Mom, can we go get ice cream? I know that fighting is bad and all, but I was defending my friend.”

Her mom sighed, and looked at the two of them, with squinting eyes. She turned to Missy’s dad and said, “What do ya think? Think they’ve earned a treat?”

The Hero:

He looked at the kids and then back at Shade, who had a soft smile. “Sure. Why not?”

The girls cheered and rushed to the cars. “Uh. Pops on 15th St. sound good?” He asked.

“That place still exists? Damn,” Shade chuckled looking off to the side. “Uh. Yeah. Pops sounds good to me. See ya there in a minute.”

Marcus smiled, lightly biting his lip before making his way to his car, as Shade did the same.

Missy was already in the backseat, buckled up and ready to go. The drive to Pops was a quick 10 minutes, and as they made there way inside, they noticed Shade and Artemis hadn’t arrived yet, so they took a seat in a booth. Missy insisted that she sit on the outside, and Marcus complied with a shake of his head.

He heard the door opened and looked up to see Shade standing there and he was thrown back to all the times he took her here on a date. She was still just as beautiful as he remembered her.

The Artist:

As Shade stepped inside, she was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Pops still looked the same as it did when she was a teenager. She finds Marcus easy enough; he too looked a little dazed at being back here.

Her and Artemis go to join them, Artemis insisting to sit on the outside as well. Shade rolled her eyes and allowed it this one time.

The waitress came up and took their orders. 15 minutes passed and soon 4 milkshakes, 2 large and 2 kids sized in to-go cups, were set in front of them. The girls grabbed theirs and ran off to sit at another table, giggling.

“I feel like we are being set-up,” Shade whispered with a raised eyebrow.

“Possibly,” Marcus agreed, before clearing his throat.

“So. How.. How have you been?” He asked awkwardly.

“Been pretty good. I see you’ve been busy,” She quietly teased nodding to his wedding ring.

“Oh! Um. Yeah. But… uh… not,” He stammered trying to respond.

Shade gave him a look of sudden realization, “How long?”

“About 6 years. Cancer,” He answered lowly not wanting Missy to hear.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I bet she was wonderful,” She said with a sad smile.

“She was. Umm. Ahem. What about you? Ever get married or got someone special waiting at home?” he asked trying to redirect the attention off of him.

“Nope. Uh. Had a boyfriend for a couple years. He left the day I told him I was pregnant. So. It’s been just the 2 of us ever since,” Shade explained after taking a long sip from her milkshake.

“Then he didn’t deserve either of you,” Marcus replied, his voice soft.

Shade smiled, looking down to hide her face.

She cleared her throat and noticed out of the corner of her eye, Missy and Artemis were watching them intently.

“Marcus… I think our kids are trying to set us up,” She muttered. “Glance over at them casually.”

Marcus does so and sees the two of them trying to act nonchalantly but were very much keeping an eye on them.

He chuckled, “No. They’re just.. Concerned. They’re best friends who want to make sure we get along.”

“Mh. I don’t know. My kid can be quite devious. Her favorite movie is The Parent Trap. Well. Next to The Mummy,” Shade wasn’t convinced.

Marcus laughed at that and stared at her softly.

“Not gonna lie… I’ve missed you,” Marcus admitted.

“I missed you as well. Maybe um.. Maybe we can set up a day to catch up?” Shade offered hopeful.

“I’d like that, maybe Saturday? We can leave the kids with my mom for the day. We can… go to the park or that café you like so much? Well. If you still like it that is,” Marcus rambled slightly.

“I do. Sounds like a date,” Shade said confirming the idea.

They exchanged numbers and finished their shakes, before rounding up their kids.

She waved goodbye to him as they parted ways.

Artemis was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Clearly, you are having a sugar overload, guess we need to work that off,” Shade stated, shaking her head.

“No. Just happy. How do you know Mr. Moreno, mama?” Artemis asked as they began to drive off.

“We dated in high school, and through a good portion of college,” Shade explained glancing back at her through the rear-view mirror.

“Oh. Why did you break up?” Artemis asked curiously.

“He was becoming a pretty famous Heroic and I was making a name for myself in the art field. We drifted. We hardly ever saw each other and when we did, we argued a lot. So, we figured it was better if we broke up,” Shade acknowledged with a sad sigh.

“But… you still like him? And he clearly likes you?” Artemis questioned, looking confused.

“Yes. I do still like him, and how do you know he likes me?” Shade countered with a grin.

“He stared at you like Rick does when he sees Evy,” Artemis said matter of factly, referencing The Mummy.

Shade laughed at how seriously she said that. ‘Kids.’

The Hero:

Missy looked at her dad and smiled at the dreamy face he was making.

“You like her?” Missy asked with a silly smile.

“I do. Does that bother you? Me liking someone?” Marcus asked worriedly.

“Dad. I don’t think mom would be mad if you moved on. I just want you to be happy. You work so much to make me happy and when you’re not with me, you’re saving the world. I think you deserve to be happy too,” Missy assured hugging him.

“When did you get so smart?” He asked, returning the hug.

“I learned from you, duh,” She answered cutely.

“Now you’re just sucking up. C’mon. Let’s go home. I have a lot of explaining to do for running out in the middle of a meeting,” Marcus said as the two of them hopped into the car.

“Also. I hope you know… I have never been disappointed in you not having active powers. You’re my daughter and I love you so much. Your power is far more special than being able to fly or run fast.” He mentioned looking back at her.

Missy nodded her head muttering, “I love you too. Thank you.”

The Kids:

That night, Missy and Artemis texted one another, concocting a plan to get their parents together. Their plan was slightly devious, but it was their parents own good. They just hoped it would work.

[acciofanfics]

Care To Dance? (Harry Potter x Reader)

Request: Hi! Can you do a harry potter x reader fluffy oneshot where the reader gives him his first kiss?❤️

Pairing: Harry Potter x FemReader

Warnings: Umm, none guys this is so fluffy, I’m proud of myself!

Word Count: 1352

A/N: So again I must apologize for the delay in this! I’m not used to writing a lot of Harry so I hope this isn’t too OOC -S

———————————————————————

(Y/N) felt sorry for the boy... he looked so incredibly bored. It seemed like it would be impossible to be bored during the Yule Ball, but Harry had a way of doing the impossible (he was a champion at only 14). She could change that.

Harry watched in confusion as the girl sat down beside him. He wondered why anyone would choose to do what him and Ron were doing, especially (Y/N). She looked like she was having so much fun dancing with her friends and her date (Harry couldn’t remember his name, but he knew he was in Ravenclaw because he’d over heard it during dinner). “Hi, Harry! Hi Ron!”

Ron just waved his hand in acknowledgment; he was too preoccupied watching Hermione and Viktor. Harry wasn’t nearly as rude, “Hey, having a good time?”

“I am,” She nodded sincerely. As much as she loved Quidditch (she was on the Gryffindor team as well) and she even loved her studies, it was nice to have a break. “Why aren’t you?”

“Oh! I am having fun...” Harry lied and he could see that she wasn’t buying it. To be honest, she’d have to be pretty thick to fall for the thinly veiled sentence.

“Like I believe you put your name in the fire.” She was happy to see his face soften, she knew he had been struggling and a lot of their fellow classmates thought he was just trying to be the center of attention like always. She always thought that was hogwash, anyone who spent any time at all with Harry knew that he would’ve preferred a much quieter year at Hogwarts.

“I suppose Yule Balls just aren’t my thing?” He offered up another excuse, maybe this time she would buy it. He’d probably had more fun with a different date, but his nerves had him waiting until the last minute and by then any of the girls he thought he’d truly have a good time with were snatched up. He’d even thought about asking (Y/N), she might’ve been a year older than him, but she was always so kind to him and quite pretty too. If he hadn’t thought that before he’d definitely thought so now when she was in her gown. It didn’t matter though, because she already had a date by the time Harry mentioned it to her.

“Have you given it a chance? I mean a real one, like maybe dancing when all of the schools aren’t watching you?”

“Well... my date has disappeared.” Harry didn’t blame Padma and Pavarti for ditching him and his mate. They hadn’t been very fun, honestly Harry thought they probably owed them an apology.

(Y/N) stood in front of him and offered her hand to him. Almost as if on cue the band started to play something a little softer (if nothing else it’d probably be much easier to get him to dance to music like that). “If Ron would be okay in your absence I’d be honored if you would dance with me, Mr. Harry Potter.”

He looked over at Ron who was definitely paying them no mind. He doubted there was anything Harry could do or say that would draw him out of his trance. Reluctantly Harry took her hand which was remarkably soft, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

(Y/N) chuckled and placed his hands on her hips (she knew traditionally they were supposed to be higher, but if that didn’t loosen the poor kid up then she didn’t know what would). And respectively she wrapped hers around his neck. There were fancier ways to slow dance sure, but there was nothing easier than the tried and true method of just swaying to the melody. “I think you can do it, it’s pretty easy.”

“This isn’t exactly how Professor McGonagall taught us.” Harry countered her teasing.

“Well, if you’d prefer I could see if she’d dance with you.” (Y/N) feigned offense, but laughed when he let out a quick: No!

Harry had to admit this was actually pretty entertaining. He tried not to notice how they seemingly got closer the longer they danced, and for a moment he wondered if she’d notice if his hands accidentally slid down a bit. No, the night had taken a pleasant turn, no sense in pushing his luck too far. “If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you dancing with...”

“Dave...” She chuckled at his obvious embarrassment of not knowing the boy’s name, “Why would I dance with Dave when I could dance with the boy who lived? But seriously, I’ve been with Dave all night and it was fun sure, but you looked so bored over there I felt bad.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Harry couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed. The thrill of having a girl he liked in his arms was diminished a good bit when she admitted it was because she pitied him.

(Y/N) clearly didn’t have a way with words and she just hoped that she’d figure out a way to fix what she’d said. “I felt bad that a very good friend of mine wasn’t having a good time... I didn’t mean- Say, do you think you could sneak out to the courtyard in about 5 minutes?”

Harry didn’t want to brag, but sneaking out was one of his specialties. He wouldn’t have had much time to do so anyway because as soon as he agreed she slipped away from him with a small smile. Girls were confusing.... but alluring. So he waiting a few minutes before following her out to the courtyard.

The first thing Harry noticed was how chilly the night air was, but that was probably because it was dark. The second thing Harry noticed was how attractive (Y/N) looked sitting on the edge of the fountain waiting for him. “You made it.” She offered him a welcoming grin and patted the concrete beside her.

Harry shrugged off the jacket of his dress robes and draped it around her bare shoulders before taking his seat beside her. If he was cold, he imagined she had to be freezing.

“I really didn’t mean it to come out like that in there...” She looked apologetic, and she definitely was. “To be honest with you I thought about asking you to go with me, but I assumed you would’ve had a date already. I definitely didn’t dance with you just because I felt bad.”

“I wish you would’ve, it would’ve saved me quite a lot of trouble.” Harry jested, but in actuality he did mean it, and it did make him feel quite good to hear her say it.

“Well next time I won’t drag my feet.” She giggled.

A silence fell over them, and Harry felt guilty. He was sure there was probably something else he was supposed to say, but he just couldn’t think of anything at the moment. Maybe if he opened his mouth the words would come out? It was worth a shot, but as soon as his lips parted they shut again after feeling her press a soft kiss to his cheek. They were probably on fire now, despite the cool air.

“You okay?” (Y/N) spoke up when Harry remained unresponsive. Maybe she’d read the signs wrong?

“Yeah... I’m sorry, I haven’t really- I’m not quite sure-“ Harry began to ramble quite lamely in his opinion, but it wasn’t untrue.

Her smile was warm and inviting when Harry finally got the courage to look over at her. She leaned in slowly, giving him time to properly reject her if he wanted. Harry wouldn’t though, in fact he leaned in too, following her lead. Their eyelids got heavier the closer they got and by the time their lips finally connected, they were completely shut.

He could definitively say that her lips were as soft as they looked and quite pleasant against his. He had no desire to end the kiss, but unfortunately their lungs left them little choice. But that was okay, because when Harry saw the large grin that mimicked his on her face he knew there’d be another chance.

[kaeyasaki]

no because here’s my actual life goal for when i’m around 24-27: i want to go to a high school reunion, everyone is already there and talking about their mundane lives, some have kids and some don’t, not that i care though, i’m fashionably late but that’s expected of me, it’s unknown as to whether i’m dead or alive too, why? because i cut them all off after graduating. i walk in, the room goes silent, i’m sexy i’m mysterious, i am the moment. i’m a single woman, no kids and no career that anyones aware of; they know nothing about me. i begin to mingle with the classmates i don’t particularly care about, telling them the lame photos of their children are cute and congratulating them on their promotions up until i see him; the boy from my business and economics class. he has a wife, and he’s wearing an expensive brand watch telling me he must be successful and that economics did actually land him somewhere good in life. i approach him, fake niceness ready to lay on thick with him. i pretend to care about him, all bad blood now gone and tensions lifted. he’s grown up now and the childish, misogynistic, racist and generally offensive boy i once knew has transformed into a well rounded man with a successful career and happy married life behind him. his wife looks at me and i wink at her; she’s beautiful. my ex classmate leaves his wife with me to grab another drink and catch up with some other classmates whose names i didn’t care to recall. i spend more time with his wife, getting to know her and joking with her until he returns. i bid them goodbye and leave the venue, nothings heard from me again. fast forward a few weeks, my ex econ classmate is coming home from a long day of work. he’s ready to fall onto the bed and tell his wife about his day. he’s on the landing of the stairs about to approach the bedroom until i walk out, hair tousled and clothes creased. i laugh at his dumbfounded expression, his wife now fully exposed to him as she comes down from the best orgasm she’s ever had; the one i just gave her as i leave the bedroom door open to let him see. payback for all the pain i had to endure while sat next to him for a whole term back when we were the age of 18. i smirk at him, her panties hooked around my finger before i stuff them in the pocket of my expensive oversized black leather blazer jacket. “cause if she pretty then watch it cause i’ma be fuckin your wife.” my final words to him, i quote nicki minaj from her song ‘danny glover’ before letting myself out of their house, life now fufilled and payback now satisfactory.

[idreamofplaid]

Christmas Present

Square Filled: Standing Sex

Characters: Dean x Reader; Rowena; Linda (OFC)

Rating: Mature

Tags: Voyeurism

Summary: Dean has reached a point in his life where something has to change.

Word Count: 1568

Created for @spnkinkbingo

A/N: This is Part 2 of Dean’s Christmas Carol. Read Part 1 Christmas Past.

The smell of brewing coffee filled the bunker’s kitchen while Dean rummaged through the refrigerator searching for something he could make for breakfast. With any luck, there would still be some bacon. He deserved some bright spot in his Christmas morning. After last night, he needed it even more than usual. 

Dean was not a stranger to troubling dreams, but last night’s dream brought things back to his mind that he had been careful to lock away. Allowing himself too many feelings would hinder his ability to do what his job required of him. Once, when he was young, he had played with the idea that maybe he could have more than a shotgun filled with salt rounds and an EMF meter. Sam had done it, he’d claimed a life for himself by leaving it all behind. That wasn’t in Dean. He knew hunting was deeply entrenched in his blood; it was just part of him, but maybe he could balance it with a life outside of hunting somehow.

Y/N had represented that life, but he had been naive to think that was possible. The first monster that came sniffing around seeking revenge made it unquestionably clear to Dean that Y/N was in danger as long as he was near her, so he left. He had made some lame excuse about his “job” being so demanding on his time that he couldn’t give her what she deserved. That much was true at least. The life he could have given her was in no way what she deserved.

He resumed his search for bacon and tried to push the thoughts of her away again. Yahtzee! There it was, hiding behind a pile of Sam’s salad vegetables. At least there would be something redeeming about this morning. Fortune must be smiling on him today because there were eggs too.

Dean set about cooking his Christmas breakfast. He cracked two eggs in a pan and started to stir them around then poured himself a cup of coffee while he waited for the eggs to firm up.Once they did, he added a couple strips of bacon to the pan. The satisfying sizzle of the bacon was a comforting sound to Dean’s ears. It was a familiar constant in his life. 

With eggs and bacon piled on his plate, Dean turned to make his way to the table. He was never the kind of person to scare easily, and at this point it was almost impossible to startle him; but the sight of Rowena sitting at his table came close. He finished chewing his bite of bacon and swallowed it. “Where’s Sam?”

Rowena brought her well manicured hand to her face and leaned on it. “Oh, he’s still in bed I would imagine.” She smiled knowingly. “Dear boy needs his rest.” 

Dean waved his hand. “Alright. Enough. I don’t need the details.” He sat down across from her with his breakfast. “Why are you here? Don’t you want to spend Christmas with Sam?” Dean was still growing accustomed to their relationship, but he thought he was doing a pretty admirable job of accepting it. Hell, he’d even be happy for Sam if this was what he wanted and Rowena could give it to him. 

Rowena lowered her hand and sat back. “Always so subtle.” She smiled and slowly blinked her eyes with a flip of her lashes. “I’ll get back to Sam soon enough. There’s just a little bit of business I need to take care of first.”

“That business is here?” Rowena gave Dean an affirmative dip of her head. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“Well, it seems you’re doing your best to try and dismiss your journey last night.”  Dean felt a stab of uncertainty shoot through him, and he focused on keeping his feelings out of his expression; but that didn’t work with Rowena. Damn witch powers. “Oh, it was real alright. You went to the past.”

Dean couldn’t even say that was impossible. His experience had taught him that basically everything was possible. That meant Bobby had really been here, or at least his ghost or whatever had been. He looked back to Rowena. He wanted answers, and maybe she had them. “What do you know about that?”

She glanced down nonchalantly at her fingertip running over the surface of the tabletop. “It seems you’re at a crossroads in your life, Dean.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Not a literal one, of course, you’ve done enough of that. You’ve reached a place where you must make a decision, and I’ve been called upon to help you do it.”

Dean scoffed at that idea. “Yeah, right. And who’s going to call on you? I doubt God would have called on you even before he was a dick.” Dean remembered he was talking to his brother’s girlfriend and quickly settled down. “No offense.”

“None taken darling.” Rowena stood; her gaze was locked on Dean. “The universe has mysteries none of us understand yet, and something did indeed call upon me; thus here I am. I have been charged with showing you your life...as it is now.” She walked around the table and extended her hand to Dean. “Take it.” Dean put his hand in hers, and the bunker once again disappeared. 

This time he stood outside a rundown motel with Rowena. The door was a burnt orange color that hadn’t been fashionable since the seventies and the gold numbers on it read 117. Dean knew this place and time. It was last week, and this was where he’d brought the redhead from the bar. 

Rowena made a move toward the door and put a hand on the knob. Dean lunged for her, and put his hand on her arm. “What are you doing?”

Rowena rolled her eyes in her exaggerated way then smiled sweetly at Dean. “Going inside of course.”

He stammered, “But...but…” 

She laughed, amusement evident in her voice. “Have you gotten shy all of a sudden, Dean?”

He pulled his hand back. His expression was one of indignant confusion.  “No.”

Rowena tossed her head and turned the knob. “Good. Now come inside.”

Dean stepped through the door straight into a porno, and he was the star. The girl, Linda? Lisa? Laura? He couldn’t remember. She was against the wall; Dean’s mouth was on her neck, and the sounds she was making were loud enough that Dean wondered how he hadn’t heard them outside. 

Linda, he was going to call her that for convenience, was tearing off his jacket and his shirts. She raked her nails down his chest, and Dean watched himself lift his head. “You’re a fiery one. I like.”

Rowena cut her eyes to Dean. “Really?”

Dean didn’t respond. He was too distracted, and it wasn’t in an arousing way. The memory of last night was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the way Y/N had sounded, and it was nothing like this. The way she had said his name made his stomach draw tight and flutter with the anticipation of something better than good sex. This girl probably didn’t know his name, the same way he didn’t know hers.

Under different circumstances, watching a hot woman wrap her legs around him while he pounded her against the wall would have turned him on; but he wanted to hear Y/N, wanted to taste her, feel her, only her. This just made it perfectly and painfully clear he’d lost her. 

“Fuck!” Bar girl Linda screamed when she came. Dean watched himself rut up into her until he filled the condom he was wearing. Then he watched himself take it off and dump it into the trash can while she took off her clothes. They met at the bed and climbed on to start round two.

Dean said nothing, but Rowena wasn’t so quiet. “Ah, Dean. You’re very talented it seems.” She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smirk. “Must run in the family.”

Dean turned away from what he was seeing and glared at Rowena. “Okay. That’s enough. Can we just go please?”

Rowena feigned innocence. “What’s the matter, dear? Didn’t you enjoy yourself? Certainly looks like you’re having a good time.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “It was fine. Time to leave.”

Rowena looked at Dean, her eyes penetrating to the heart of him. “Not fulfilling then?” She tapped his arm with her finger. “That’s the real problem isn’t it? This isn’t enough for you anymore. Your liasons have lost their sparkle.” She closed her arm around his. “Come along then.”

Dean closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was back in the bunker. Rowena was straightening her dress; the carton of eggs was still on the counter where he’d left them. Everything seemed normal, but there was nothing normal about this. A pain had been resurrected in his heart that he’d buried a long time ago. “Are you alright, darlin’?” 

Dean walked to the table, scooped up his uneaten breakfast, and took it to the sink.  “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Rowena lifted her chin and smoothed her hair. “Very well then. It’s time I returned to Samuel.” Dean heard her, but everything sounded hollow. He stared at the plate in his hands and put it down on the counter. “Heed what’s happened, Dean.” Without another word she disappeared, leaving Dean with his cold bacon and eggs.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @sweetness47 @timelordy-fangirl2 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @iknowwheremytowelis​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​

Dean/Jensen Love: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @waywardrose13​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @ellewritesfix05​ 

Dean’s Christmas Carol: @moron225​

[eat0crow]

Cliche but can I request flower shop owner Marinette with gang boi Jason?

Dear sweet Anon, you have no idea how weak I am for cliche tropes. I took some liberties here seeing as Red Hood is already a sorta gang leader and just used that! I hope you like my rambly headcanons! I had so many ideas for this au that I really had to try to hold back.

Ground Zero

1) There’s a flower shop right on the edge of Jason’s territory that’s essentially become an urban legend.

No one is actually sure how exactly it’s still standing, it borders two rival gangs, Red Robin’s usual patrol route, and Jason’s terf. There have been at least three gang wars raging on the same street, yet still Miraculous stands as the one neutral spot in all of Gotham. It’s a cute shop, don’t get Jason wrong, but the only miraculous thing about it is that no one has even tried to claim it.

He brings it up once, the keyword once. Because the shop has stood as neutral ground for at least a century, and no one wants to be the one to break that streak. The shop is also cursed apparently, or at least protected by some malevolent force. The building lost a shingle once in the ’80s to a member of the False Facers, and the very next day saw Gotham PD hauling in at least two-thirds of the Black Mask’s operation.

Which is probably exaggerated, right? None of the minor drug lords under Jason want to get into it. The Black Mask doesn’t want to get into it. (He clams up the moment Jason tells him the shop re-opened, apparently, it had closed a year after the shingle incident)

Miraculous, as well as the parking lot it sits on, is the ground zero of Gotham. No crime goes into the lot, no crime goes out. The pots are never tipped over, no one tries to steal even a single rose from the display. No one touches the cute building, even if it’s painted an obnoxious pastel pink that stands out like a sore thumb in the Gotham night. At least, as far as everyone knows—Jason is still kinda skeptical about that. Really, it’s the perfect set up for a smuggling ring.

Tim is there sometimes as Red Robin. All the time really, at least twice a week. Jason has caught him more than once staked out with a pair of binoculars in the windows. A couple of times he even catches him helping the clerk repot plants. Which, yeah, Jason’s met Tim a time or two, he doesn't make a habit of sticking around his family, but the kid never came off as the gardening type.

It’s especially funny though, to see the pictures of Red Robin in a pink apron behind the counter trending on twitter.

He’s tried to go in a handful of times, to offer the owner his protection and whatnot. But each time he tries he forgets what he’s doing before he even turns the handle. Whoever runs this place must have the best luck in the world because this shit has been happening since it was built.

You’re a wayward gang member attempting to talk to the owner, you end up forgetting what you’re doing mid-action, and only start to remember five days later. The building is damaged, so is whatever scheme you’ve been planning. Actually in the shop when you decide to talk business, nope, it’s time for the most inconvenient phone call of your life.

“Why Dick, did you have to call me? I was so close.”

“Jason, are you crying?”

“I finally made it into the door. I’ve been trying for months to get in. But no, your ass gets stuck in your suit, and suddenly it’s time to call Jason. Nope, lose my number.”

2) Apparently everyone, including the fucking demon spawn, has been to Miraculous.

They all get kind of quiet when he brings it up though, Alfred actually leaves the room. Jason may have issues with Bruce, and Dick, and Tim, and don’t even get him started on Damian, but Alfred’s always been the neutral party for them. He’s always been the one they go to, no matter what. Upsetting Alfred is a capital offense. Jason feels...shitty about it.

“Alfred used to go, and get a bouquet there every weak after you died,” Dick tells him, folding his hands together, and settling in. Tim looks uneasy, and far more awkward than usual—which is saying something. “He’d get some white lilies to put on your grave. I went with him a few times, but he hasn’t been back since. I think the shop reminds him of it. When you were...you know.”

“Oh.” Jason really feels like an asshole.

“Yeah, I can’t say I’ve been back either.” Dick rubs the back of his neck like he’s admitting to something secret. “It used to be on my patrol route, back when I was first Robin. It always used to creep me out so I'd avoid it.”

“Really, Grayson,” Damian says with the same air of condescending superiority he always has.

“Hey, back in those days it was an abandoned building. The one that the witch owned! I don’t know about you, but I don’t fuck with witches. No thank you! I like my limbs.”

Jason might actually remember something like that, it’s hard. Like all the memories from before are hard, but he thinks back to being a kid. To growing up in a scummy neighborhood, and hearing people talk about the witching house that no one was allowed near. The one spot Squatters and Junkies, no matter how desperate, wouldn’t step foot in.

“It’s not all that bad,” Tim says. “My mom remembered when it was open the first time around. Mr. Fu was really nice, he used to let her play in the pots.”

“That aside,” Dick says fixing Jason with a half-crazed look. “It re-opened like a month after you died, so yeah, I went there with Alfred a lot. Like once a month a lot. The shop has this thing. You go in, and you’re instantly wrapped up in this nostalgic warm-fuzzy-reliving-my-childhood feeling. It’s weird.”

Tim stares. “I think that’s a you problem. I go in all the time, and yeah, the shop has a nice vibe, but it’s more like a you’re-safe-here thing.”

“You’re both, as usual, utterly wrong.” Damian sniffs. “If anything, the shop feels like coming home.”

The entire table turns to stare at him with wide unbelieving eye’s. Jason can hardly believe his ears...did Damian really just say something like that. The shocked look on even Dick’s face goes a long way in saying just how much no one can believe something so well adjusted came out of the demon spawn’s mouth.

Damian’s blush is priceless, his stutter—yes it’s a stutter no matter how much he denies it—is even better. “I mean to say. It feels familiar. The shop, you walk in, even for the first time, and you feel like you’ve walked through the door hundreds of times.”

Which, huh, because. “I always thought it felt like a warning. You step one foot onto the lot, and it feels like the walls themselves are daring you to start shit.”

3) Despite the hype that's built up around Jason going in, his first visit—No, Marinette that one didn’t count I literally just turned the door handle—is really anticlimactic.

It works like this, Roy asks him to pick up flowers, because Valentine's Day is today, and Kori will know what he's doing the second he tries to make up some lame excuse. Jason will never know how the man could ever be such a bad liar. As far as Kori knows, Jason is doing a typical supply run. Which, he is doing a supply run, even if the thought of cheesy romantic comedy cliches makes him sick.

All the same, Jason takes his role as best bro seriously, even though he has doubts about being able to complete this task. If his previous 52 failures are anything to go by, Miraculous hates him. There are only so many times a man can get maimed before he comes to the conclusion that the building itself has it out for him.

The hornets were what sold him. Not the bees, the hornets.

So with the air of a man who has just been sent out to war, Jason puts on this thickest jacket, his gloves, leaves his phone behind—even if attempt 34 taught him that was a really stupid idea—and braces himself to step inside. Maybe it’s because this is the first time Jason has gone into the flower shop for actual flowers. Maybe his luck is improving. Maybe...maybe the universe is setting him up for something even worse. Either way, it’s the first time the hair on the back of his neck doesn’t stand up the moment his foot hits the floor.

The girl at the counter is cute, just around his age with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. That says something, because Jason has met Superman. That man's eyes are literally otherworldly. But Marinette’s, Jason has a suspicion this is the Mari Tim is always talking about, her eyes look like they’re glowing.

Jason realizes he’s been standing in the doorway staring, way too hard, when Marinette, that’s what her name tags says, clears her throat. With an air of confidence—Jason is a firm believer in the inherent power of bull shitting your way to success—he walks up to the counter.

“I’m looking for a bouquet,” Her stare is piercing and Jason swears it burns all the way down to his soul. “For Valentine's day. One with roses, and all that shit.”

Marinette huffs, and points to a depressingly empty display shelf. “You, and just about everyone else. Did you place an order?”

“Did I place an..” Jason trails off under his breath. “Please tell me you have something with the name Roy Harper in your registry.”

Marinette takes a moment to glance down, to ruffle through her papers. “I’m sorry, I only have one left, and its got the last name Grayson on it.”

Jason sees his life flash devastatingly fast across his eyes. It ends with him being torn to shreds by one of Roy’s homemade bombs when he comes back empty-handed. There won’t even be enough of him left to throw in a Lazarus pit. Nope, he’ll be sidewalk chalk.

So really he feels no guilt in fleshing his most charming smile, the one that always makes the old ladies coo, and saying. “Perfect, I’m here to pick that one up.”

Marinette takes one look at him draped over the counter, and bursts out laughing. Today is not a good day for Jason’s ego. “I thought you were Roy Harper.”

“No, I’m Dick Grayson.” The words are bitter in his mouth. “But the bouquet is for my friend, and I wasn’t sure what name he put it under.”

“Oh,” Marinette says, a smirk playing across her lips. “You think I was born yesterday. Sorry hon, but you’re not an alternative pick up, and I'll need to see some ID.”

“You expect me to show ID for flowers?..... Really?”

“Yes, I expect you to show ID when you’ve given me two different names, and those flowers are worth over a hundred dollars,” Marinette bites back. “Sorry, but that’s been paid in full, and I’m not going to lose a customer.”

“Okay,” Jason says, taking two crisp bills out of his wallet. It hurts because Roy gave him a twenty, and Jason will always be a cheap bastard at heart. Nevertheless, he likes Kori, she deserves this, even if Roy, who will be begging for mercy later, does not. He has to very consciously remove his hand after sliding them over. The urge to snatch them back is strong. “Listen, I really need that fucking bouquet. I am prepared to pay you double the price Grayson paid.”

Marinette actually looks offended. “Just because everyone else in this city is okay with being bribed doesn’t mean I am. You can keep your money.”

“Everyone has a price.” Jason gives her a look. “Name it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Marinette snaps, reaching down for her phone. “You can take your money, and fuck off. Before I get Red Robin over here to flush you out.”

“And here I was, thinking this was neutral territory.”

“It is.” Marinette stiffens. “This place isn’t under Red Robin’s protection, but he’s still my friend. I won’t hesitate to get him over here.”

“How about this then. The bouquet for protection. I can get Red Hood to claim this place.”

“What part of neutral didn’t you get?” Marinette asks, leaning over the counter and getting into his space. From here, just inches apart, her eyes are iridescent. Blue light toxically dripping out of a cracked glow stick. “Miraculous doesn’t get involved in your shit. You all want to wage war on each other? You want to pedal drugs? You want to smuggle shit? That’s cool, but you keep that away from my fucking shop. Miraculous doesn't get involved, you can all kill each other outside.”

She’s kind of terrifying up close. If Jason wasn’t convinced she would disembowel him, he’d be tempted to kiss her. Consent, however, is sexy as fuck.

Jason knows when he’s fighting a losing battle. “Is there any way. Anyway in hell, that I can get my hands on those fucking flowers?”

“Yeah,” Marinette says sitting back down. “You can call Grayson, and have him give them to you. But aside from that, I’ve seen a lot of shit. Sorry buddy, but you can’t buy me or scare me into anything.”

“I’ll call the sorry bastard up right now.”

“I’m not giving you his number.”

“I don’t need you to give me his number, I have it right…” Jason trails off, suddenly he remembers leaving his phone behind.

4) Jason is a petty asshole who has learned that the secret to getting into the flower shop is to think flowers.

Listen, Jason had to make do with drugstore flowers, and Roy’s disappointed puppy eyes for a month after being kicked out on his ass. To add insult to injury, Tim tracked him down two days later, as he was mid drug bust, to tell him to stay away from Marinette.

Okay, it’s not like he hadn’t already been planning to go back, frankly, the shop is a strategic masterpiece. Half of its cred as an urban legend comes from the fact that whoever claimed it would be given an instant power-up. It’s the One Ring to rule them all. Jason has to go back, and convince Marinette that the Red Hood is the one to ally with. He has to.

So yeah he’s going to go back anyway, but now he really wants to. Because Tim, his replacement, dared him. Maybe a bigger person would back down, what with all the external forces building up around the shop, the legend, the neutrality, the many failed attempts, Tim somehow having a vested interest…well, Jason has never been the bigger person.

Not by a long shot.

The first three times he attempts to return, Marinette meets him at the door. She’s quick about flipping the sign from open to closed. Jason, the first time, had tried turning the handle, whatever magic makes that building hate him, makes it lock up the second the sign changes. It’s not Marinette, Jason watched her. Her hands never touched the lock.

The first person he complains to is Roy, of course, who actually gives him the idea. Roy is a genius sometimes. So attempt four ends with him buying a single sunflower. It’s gaudy as all hell, and also the first thing his hand touched after he spent an hour trying to get Marinette’s attention.

She apparently will only talk to him in the brief thirty seconds she spends cashing him out. Which, yeah, that’s fair.

And so it begins. Every day except Tuesday, the only day the shop is closed, Jason goes in, buys a single sunflower, and talks up the Red Hood.

Even if Miraculous never comes into his fold, this will all have been worth it just to have seen the look on Tim’s face the first time he comes in just as Jason's buying his daily flower.

There’s a small hole burned into his wallet, but Kori loves sunflowers.

Jason’s not the only regular, but he’s the most frequent, by the end of his fourth month he knows all the other regular’s sob stories, and everyone and their mother thinks he's sweet on Marinette. That may be the kind of true by this point. He’s worn her down to where she will talk to him as he browses. Even if she also complains that, “It’s pointless. I already have your sunflower set aside.”

Month six marks a distinct turning point in their relationship. He was upgraded from General-Creep to Recurring-Menace to Okay-I-Guess-We’re-Sorta-Friends-Now a while ago. Month six is the month he gains the title of Permanent-Fixture. It’s marked by him walking in and Marinette forcing an apron on him.

“I told Red Robin when he started coming by, that if he was going to hang around than he needed a reason to. So if you want to hang in Miraculous you’re going to work in Miraculous.”

“Unpaid labor is illegal.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just called volunteering.”

5) Getting together actually takes a while.

Jason is relentless when it comes to his recruitment pitches, but he has standards for fuck's sake. No woman actually enjoys it when men flirt with them on the clock. There’s a whole power imbalance thing that makes him sick to his stomach.

Sure Marinette can take care of herself. She’s a force of nature. Jason had offered to help carry potting soil for her once. One time. That was before he saw her lift the thirty pound bag over her shoulder like an empty sack of rice. Marinette can take care of herself, she just won’t.

Jason has seen more than one scummy fuck harass her. She gets quiet….she loses her confidence, and it’s just so wrong to see a person as strong as Marinette look small. He’s not sure what about blatant flirting and bad pick up lines bothers her so much but—Marinette can never know, and they’ll never tell her that the Red Hood tracked each one of them down. Threats are beautiful things. They just make it all come together.

He is a gentleman, even after he starts working with her. While co-workers flirting with each other isn’t as bad, it’s still kind of awful. The problem is that Marinette is always working, she never leaves Miraculous. Even on her off days.

So Jason, never finds the right time to ask her out himself. All the regulars already think they’re dating. His brothers think they’re dating. Alfred, Alfred thinks they’re dating after walking into the shop one time since Jason’s resurrection. He’s thankful his brothers gave him a heads up—not. Alfred walks in to find him behind the counter with a fluffy pink apron on, even his refined British manners are tested. Jason just knows he’s laughing. He knows.

It happens like this, Jason teams up with Batman and Co. to help with a standard smuggling ring. Nothing difficult, the only reason it should have required all of them was because of the shipment size. It should have been easy. It had been easy.

That is until the Joker shows up, Jason freezes, and takes a bullet straight to the stomach.

Stomachs bleed...a lot.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. Stomachs also hurt a lot, and it’s hard to think coherently when you’re in excruciating pain. Jason, blacked out shortly after Dick started putting pressure on the wound. For future reference, while stopping the bleeding might be important, it hurts like fucking hell.

Marinette is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. She’s hunched over herself in the plastic chair next to his bed. Someone, probably Dick or Alfred, draped a blanket over her. She looks vastly out of place, like the room itself is sucking the life out of her. The lighting makes her skin almost translucent.

The second thing he sees is the sunflowers covering every inch of the hospital room. There must have been a couple dozen, at least. It was probably closer to a hundred if not more. Despite the pain that comes with laughing, Jason can’t help himself.

His laughter alerts the nurse, who alerts his family. Apparently, they’ve all been camping out in the waiting room. Much comfier couches there. His family wakes Marinette, who turns her piercingly otherworldly eyes on him.

Marinette stays quiet through all his family’s fussing. She stays quiet even after that. All she does is stare. Jason doesn’t think she’s actually seeing him.

“I didn’t think I missed this many days,” Jason jokes, gesturing to the multitude of flowers wrapped around every available surface.

“No, you didn’t.” Marinette’s answer is curt. She’s distracted, Jason really wishes he knew what she was seeing.

“Not a fan of Hospitals?” Jason tries.

Marinette blinks. The cloudy look on her face disappearing as she shakes her head. “No, I really can’t stand them.”

“Me either.” Jason feels an intense desire to continue the conversation, if only to keep Marinette from closing up again. “You know, you didn’t have to visit me.”

“I wanted to,” Marinette says. “Your brother called, and told me what happened. I came by just after you were finishing up in surgery.”

“What about the shop?”

Jason has been working at Miraculous—volunteering because Marinette still doesn’t pay him—for months. He’s invested in the place now.

"It can be closed for a few days,” Marinette says, reaching over to take his hand. Jason lets her, he’s always hated hospitals. It's gotten worse since he came back. The comfort is welcome. “This is more important.”

Jason wants to say something, to take his shot, and ask her out. Because she’s just as important to him, but it feels wrong so, he settles with, “You’re a really good friend Marinette.”

He does his best to ignore the way the words choke him.

“I think,” Marinette starts, only to stop herself. There’s a moment of internal debate before she continues, “I think we both know we’re a little more than just friends.”

6) Jason never does claim Miraculous, it remains perfectly neutral, despite having the Bat-Family practically living out of the apartment upstairs.

“Hey, do you think now that we're dating you can convince Tim to come by out of costume?”

Jason blanks. “What?”

“Tim, do you think you can get him to stop dropping by as Red Robin so much. People are starting to think Miraculous has been claimed as part of Batman’s terf.”

Jason does the most logical thing he can think of. He buries his face in his hands, and groans. “Why did you have to figure it out?”

“Was I…not supposed to?”

“No, no you weren’t. How did you?”

“Jason, there’s only one person you hate as much as Tim, and that’s Red Robin. I’ve seen how you look at both of them. No one makes your eyes scream murder as much as he does. Not even Dick.”

“Oh God,” Jason says wiping a hand across his face. “Does that mean—”

“That I know you’re the Red Hood?” Marinette asks, cutting him off. “Hmm, I’ve known that for longer. Probably since you first started coming around consistently. At first, I thought you had like, the biggest boner for the guy, but then you seemed really into me and well, you talked him up way too much to either not have a crush on him or be him so, I connected the dots.”

[whengreenmeetsbrown]

Prompt- married Jily tell James’ parents that Lily’s pregnant, maybe in Christmas?

Hi, that’s a wonderful prompt and I did have fun writing it! Maybe it is slightly AU as I’m not sure if James’ parents were alive when he was married to Lily. But I tried my best so:

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

“Good morning baby.” A soft voice mumbled, rubbing his wife’s stomach, smiling genuinely.

The red head groaned as she replied, still sleepy. “No morning yet, still not the time to wake up, the sun isn’t out yet. But yeah, good morning.”

The boy chuckled. “I wasn’t talking to you but okay Lils.” He said putting a soft kiss on her temple. Lily suddenly woke up, putting her hands up like some zombie. James was startled.

“What happened love?” he said, rubbing her back.

“Are you cheating on me Potter?” she said still half asleep but in her senses to listen to what she was saying.

“Cheating on you Evans? Why the hell would I do that again?” James gasped, catching on the let’s-call-each-other-by-our-surnames-like-when-we-did-in-Hogwarts.

“If you didn’t say ‘good morning baby’ to me, who was it?” she said, scratching her head, glaring at him.

A chuckle escaped James lips as Lily still glared at him, waiting for an answer. Her husband lightly smacked her head. “OW! What was that for?” “So you can wake up. I was calling the baby in your stomach ‘baby’ because we haven’t named him yet.” He gasped again, clutching his heart. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that you’re pregnant with my child!”

Lily groaned as her head the soft pillow. “Yeah yeah. I know I’m having a baby. It’s literally in my stomach. Now let me sleep or else I’ll hex you into oblivion.”

“But I wanna talk to my baby.” James whined like a five year old, tugging at the sheets. Lily opened her eyes, pouting. “I’m jealous that you’re not giving me attention, should I just have married Benjy? He-“

She was cut off as a pair of lips gently came down, softly and caressingly, as she pulled away. “Don’t, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

The boy grinned his crooked smile which Lily loved. “But you were the one who provoked me by saying that you should have married Benjy.” He folded his arms. “No offense but you would have made a horrible couple.”

“Hey!” she threw a pillow at him as he stood up. “Who says?”

"Me.” James stretched as he got out of bed. “Now, what do you want for breakfast baby?”

Lily grumbled. “Clarify who you’re talking to Mr. Potter.”

“I’m asking Lily Potter what she wants for breakfast.”

“An omelet please.” She said as she lay down and started snoring in a moment.

James sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Walking to the kitchen, he started making the meal, thinking about Auror meetings along with the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix. Half an hour later, the omelets were made, looking absolutely delicious. This very smell brought the pregnant girl downstairs as she entered the kitchen.

“This looks good James.” She said hugging him from behind, her face in the crook of his neck. She was only 2 months pregnant after all, she wasn’t that fat. Yet.

“How about we visit Mum and Dad today? To tell them the news about the baby?” James asked, as they sat down.

“Mmm? Yeah, sure, no problem, when do we leave?” she answered.

“How about this evening?”

“Sounds good.”

***

Lily pulled on her blue jumper and black jeans, and a small jacket as it was snowing. Stepping into her snow boots and wearing her hat, she entered the room where James was waiting in some white jeans and a Christmas sweater, his hair messier, completing the winter look.

“How do you think we should go? The healer said that apparating is risky for the baby.” James asked.

“Portkey?”

“Don’t know where to find it.”

“Floo powder?”

“Out of stock.”

“Well I don’t know then!” Lily said throwing up her hands.

James thought for a while. “How about you drive a car?”

Where the hell would you get it O’ great one?”

He grinned. “Magic.”

***

They rang the doorbell, an hour after the crazy ride here. Lily did not want to know how James brought the car, and she wondered how she had driven a car after ages.

A house elf appeared at the door of the great mansion before them. Lily had been here before so she wasn’t that surprised. The Potters’ mansion was huge. One way to describe that. They were filthy rich purebloods, even if they used it for good and honest purposes.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Potter, come in!” it squeaked motioning inside. Entering the mansion was like entering a Muggle museum. It had a huge chandelier and a ginormous dining hall, which lead to several other rooms, which led to the Quidditch pitch. Yes, they had a freaking Quidditch pitch. No wonder James was so good at it. In the dining hall, Mr. and Mrs. Potter were waiting, as they beamed brightly.

“Lily darling!” cooed Mrs. Potter. “How lovely to see you.” The women hugged as the men looked at them.

“Hi Lily, you look gorgeous today! Rosy cheeks and snowflakes on your face, a true beauty.” Mr. Potter winked at her.

“Dad! Stop flirting with my wife at every chance you get!” James moaned. Then he turned to his mom, “And you Mrs. Potter didn’t even greet me when I’m your one and only son.” His mother laughed as she embraced him tightly. Lily felt a pinge of sadness; she missed her own family, parents, even sister, desperately. However, the war loomed over them and was afraid of visiting them as they were Muggles. Targets in the war.

They sat down, chattering along the way, talking about whatever occurred.

“How’s married life going Lily darling? I hope he’s not bugging you.” Mrs. Potter asked smiling.

“No, it’s going fairly well. I haven’t hexed him yet.” Lily laughed. It felt good laughing and enjoying after a long time. Lily saw that her husband was having a hard time sitting still,he couldn’t wait to tell his parents the news.

As dinner was served, James tapped at the table. “So Mum, Dad.” He said gesturing at them. “We have some news to share.”

“Good or bad?” they looked anxious.

“Lily’s having a baby.”

There was a sudden silence as the parents looked on at them. Lily cleared her throat nervously. “So, um, what do you think?” she asked lamely.

Mr. Potter suddenly bawled, crying his eyes out. “What happened sweetheart?” his wife asked, eyes wide open.

“Little James is having a baby! A real baby! And at such a young age! And to think we waited all this years to get him. Honestly wife we could have done it earl-“

“Fleamomt!” she interrupted, flushing red with embarrassment.

“Are you happy Mum?” James asked nervously, glasses askew, pulling at his hair.

She laughed loudly. “Of course I am dear! That’s wonderful, simply wonderful. Come here darling.” She said. James moved forward but his mother hugged Lily.

“So much for her being my mother.” He grumbled.

“So happy dear. I know it’s hard but once-“

“SO HAPPY! HEY BON, BRING SOME CAKE AND WINE, WE NEED TO CELEBRATE!” Mr. Potter shrieked, jumping around despite his old age.

“NO BON! NOTHING EXCEPT SOME CAKE.” Mrs. Potter shouting back. “Now sweetheart, don’t get too hasty.” She scolded.

The father embraced his son. “I’m going to die a happy man now Jamsie. A happy one.”

***

Finally back home, completely exhausted, the pair fell into bed, cuddling as they got warm.

“Your father seemed really happy.” Lily mumbled from under James arm.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked, lifting her head up.

“Its just, raising a baby is going to be hard, especially with the war and all.” James sighed.

Lily traced circling and soothing circles on his chest. “We’re going to be fine James. It’s just a war, we’ll get through.”

“Yeah, I hope we do.” James replied, giving a thorough kiss to his wife and rubbed her stomach.

“I’m going to protect you baby. I love you already, before you’re even born.”

[samlicker81]

Lucky | Part 1

Sam X Reader

Summary: You’re unlucky in love when you find a lost wallet outside a bar and are smitten with the photo on the ID inside.  Could your luck have turned, or have you found yourself in the middle of something unfortunate?

Word Count: 1.1K

Series Masterlist

“This is why I never go out, Emily,” you shudder.

“Come on, that bad?” she’s wiping the front of her jeans with a wad of paper towels, “bad enough for you to dump your drink on me I guess.” She shoots me a classic Emily look.

“I’m sorry, I had to get us out of there.” you shift out of the way for a short blonde woman to wash her hands at the sink. Taking the dampened wad of paper from Emily’s hands, you shove them in the trash.

“Okay so what was his big offense?” she folds her arms and looks at you expectantly.

“First, he keeps calling my career ‘that girly-nursey-thing,’ so, misogynist. Then, let’s see, he told a pretty obviously pointed story about ‘some bitch’” you wiggle your fingers in air quotations, “who didn’t put out on the first date; so, misogynist. And I think the third ass grab of the night was three too many. So, misogynist.” The blonde, still at the mirror fixing her lipstick, scoffs.

“Fucking gross,” she says.

“Thank you!” you throw your hands up. As long as she’s on your side, she can butt into the conversation as much as she wants. “Can we just go? I’m tired anyway, we can just have girl’s night in.”

“Fine, he’s an asshole,” Emily laughs, “I’ll tell Josh.”

“While you’re at it, maybe ask him why he hates me so much to set me up with human garbage?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” she rolls her eyes, but is laughing harder now. You take another second, give the blonde a lame smile, and then peek out the bathroom door. Perfect, he’s talking to another girl. Asshole. You take the opportunity to make a beeline for the front entrance.

You stand on the sidewalk and scroll through your phone for a second, waiting for Emily. A group of guys walk out of the bar, one of them whistles at you. What is up with your luck tonight?! You just pretend you didn’t hear them and stroll around to the other side of a concrete planter. You sit on the edge and the cold of the concrete seeps through your jeans. You pull in the corners of your brown leather jacket and that’s when you notice it, sitting on the ground next to your left foot. A regular, worn, brown leather wallet.

You scoop it up and you’re about to open it when you hear Emily yelling. You stuff it into your pocket with intentions of bringing it inside to turn it in. Emily storms out of the front door, heeled boots clicking on the sidewalk. She’s looking around for you and you leave your hiding place.

“Hey what’s wrong?” you ask walking up to her.

“Nothing,” she’s on her phone, looking for an uber. “Now Josh is being an asshole.”

“He’s drunk,” you offer.

“Yeah, well you got wine at your place?”

“Of course.”

“Uber will be here in 5.”

-

It’s afternoon when you remember the wallet. Well actually you’d been tidying up your apartment and felt the lump in the pocket of your leather jacket when you we’re hanging it back up in the closet.

“Shit,” you say out loud. You pull it out and open it. There’s some cash, a few credit cards, a library card, nice, and there, the ID. He’s got shaggy brown hair, a triangular nose, and is very cute. Ooh and tall; you grin at the tiny 6’4’’ in black letters. Age: 26, only a year older than you. Name: Gregory Pittman. You’re starting to wish you could return this to Greg in person. “I’m not that lucky, Greg.” Still, you smile to yourself thinking about what Greg would look like if he smiled. You peek at the thumbnail image again. He’s cute stoic too. There’s something very penetrating about his eyes. Sighing, you shove the ID back in the clear pocket, put the wallet in your purse, and hang it on the front door so you don’t forget to head back to the bar when it opens. You turn on some music up on your TV before getting back to cleaning because you’re starting to realize how sad it is that you’re pining over some rando’s driver’s license and you need a distraction.

-

When you make it in the doors, the bar has only been open for about half an hour and you’re greeted with the small, kind of sad, early crowd. You’re only a few steps into your walk over to the counter when see a head of shaggy brown hair towering over most of the patrons.

“Greg?” you call out. The man turns. It’s really him. He’s at the bar. And driver’s license photos are not known for being particularly flattering; Greg, cute in his ID photo, is hot in person. His hair is even longer than in the picture, the tips brushing the corners of his sharp jaw, which is covered in dark stubble. And 6’4’’ is more striking in person than on paper. You finish the short walk to close the distance between you, thanking whatever planetary alignment occurred, that gave you a good excuse to talk to this guy. “I found your wallet last night.” you smile and hold out the brown leather. He smiles back. It’s even better than you pictured. He doesn’t even show his teeth, just a simple, effortless, crooked smile. And dimples? Are you kidding me?! Before he can even reach for the outstretched wallet, a shorter man standing next to him snatches it out of your hand. He would be handsome too if he didn’t have such a nasty expression on his face.

“Dude, chill,” Greg says pointedly at the shorter man as he starts searching through the contents of the wallet.

“I didn’t take anything,” even you are aware that you sound defensive.

“Then why didn’t you turn it over last night, huh?” Greg’s companion snaps back.

“I-I got distracted. I had a bad night and- “

“Hey,” Greg steps in, kicking the other with one of his huge brown boots, “you don’t have to explain yourself. Thank you…”

“Y/N”

“Thank you, Y/N. And, well,” he huffs out a breathy chuckle, “I’d introduce myself, but you already know my name, date of birth, weight, height, eye color, etcetera.” You’re not sure about his eyes, though. His license said hazel, but they are piercing green as you look up at him now. And even more penetrating. You give him a small laugh back and you actually blush a little bit. “I’m sorry about my brother,” he continues.

“It’s fine. I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah, lucky we ran into you,” the brother speaks up again shooting you what he probably thinks is a winning smile and then he’s pulling him away.

“Lucky,” you whisper under your breath with a snort of a laugh.

[joeycupcakerichter]

Zach Dempsey v Cyrus - Crying Lighting p2

A/N: Hey, so yeah.... let’s just not talk about how it’s been over a month and a half, alright? To quote Chuck, “writing is hard” Anywhooooooooooooo.... yeah, here’s this and it’s almost 1000 words more than the first one... so... yay? :D I really hope you like it and if you have any input into where it should go or anything you’d like to see happen hit me up. :D

Pairing: Zach x Reader, Cyrus x Reader

Warnings: Parents being... parents I guess? And just mention of stuff from the show.

Word Count: 2359

Masterlist

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒

The dirt under your shoes and the blaring music in your headphones grounded you as crossed the campus. Cyrus and Mack were adamant that meeting up with Zach was unequivocally the worst possible idea and as much as you agreed, the curiosity that tickled the back of your mind compelled you out into that field to wait for the boy that broke your heart. The wind cut through your flannel, chilling you as you scrolled through your phone and waited. Twenty minutes passed before he finally showed up, looking sheepish as ever. Irritation had long since boiled over in your gut and by the time he showed up, you had already begun grabbing your things to leave.

“(Y/N), look I’m sorry,” he apologized as he climbed the bleachers two steps at a time, “Coach wanted to prep us for the game next weekend and I couldn’t get away.”

“I get it, Dempsey,” you rolled your eyes, “Now, what did you want to talk about so I can get home. It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh shit, if you’re cold-” he shrugged out of his letterman jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. The warmth sunk into your core and washed away some of your anger as Zach’s cologne wafted around you.

“Thanks,” you murmur gratefully, careful not to meet his gaze.

“Since when did you start calling me by my last name anyway,” he asked lazily as he sat down next to you and reclined back.

“Does it bother you or something?” you smirked.

“I mean, kinda? Not really, it just seems really impersonal. I thought we were friends.”

“Oh ha, ha, ha,” you laughed sarcastically, earning you a look of offense.

“So we’re not friends?” Zach asked, a genuine note of confusion leaking into his tone.

“In what way are we even remotely still friends Zach?” you snapped, finally bringing your eyes up to his. “You haven’t talked to me in months! Why are you so worried about me now?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, (Y/N). There was a lot of shit going on with the trial, a lot of shit came out and my mom was trying to do damage control-”

“Speaking of which, all those nights we hung out and you never mentioned sleeping with Hannah Baker?” you interjected, an old wound flaring up at the mention of the trial.

“I never told anyone about that,” he told you firmly.

“You told me everything else, but you left that out? It went on for months!”

“I didn’t tell anyone, (Y/N). It wasn’t any of your business.”

“Oh because all of your concerns about dinosaurs and fish, those warranted hours of in depth soul searching but something as life changing as finding a girlfriend and losing your virginity was something I wasn’t allowed to be privy to?” Tears welled in your eyes as you snapped, finally letting the sea of hurt cascade out of you.

“Talking to you was supposed to be easy. I didn’t have to stress when I talked to you because you didn’t know everything about me. We could just talk about dumb shit and I didn’t have to worry about all the dumb drama from school.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Zach,” you declared, standing up and turning away to wipe the tears away from your eyes.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset about this,” Zach asked, gently grabbing your arm to get you to face him again.

“Because I loved you, you fucking idiot,” you admitted, trying your hardest to avoid his gaze.

“Y-You- You what?”

“I was in love with you, back then,” you elaborated, “I thought you felt the same way but you were just too innocent to make a goddamn move.”

“Wh-Why didn’t you say anything?” Zach murmured, staring out over the field.

“I liked just spending time with you. I didn’t need it to be more than that at the time. I didn’t need it to be… complicated.”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he apologized, tugging your hand to get you to meet his gaze. “H-Hannah, she’s the one-”

“I don’t need the play-by-play, alright?” you interrupted, sitting back down next to him on the bleachers. You couldn’t find the strength to finish storming off and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to go home to your miserable bedroom just yet.

“I didn’t mean- I’m sorry,” he apologized, resting his head in his hands in defeat. “For what it’s worth, I liked you a lot, I still do.”

“Yeah, well, that’s great and all but with everything going on in your life, I don’t think I see anywhere I can fit in,” you told him bitterly.

“So you’re just hanging around that weird kid, Cyrus?” he asked, an uncharacteristically jealous tone leaking into his voice.

“He and his friends are nice to me,” you shrugged, unable to bring your eyes to meet his. “I haven’t really had anyone since you guys-”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that, (Y/N),” he sighed, frustrated. “I didn’t mean to-” Your phone rang, interrupting him much to his irritation. “Mom” flashed on the screen,  you sighed before holding a finger up to him in silence.

“Hey Mom, I’ll be home soon. I stayed after to get some help with a project. I should’ve texted you, I just didn’t-”

“Just tell me when you’re on your way home, I got worried,” Mom interrupted, uninterested in whatever lame ass excuse you was going to give her.

“I’m leaving now,” you assured her, heart racing as you awaited the lecture that was inevitable. The call ended abruptly and you knew the lecture would be waiting for you at home.

“Do you want a ride?” Zach asked cautiously as you slid your phone back into your pocket and started grabbing your things.

“Oh, yeah, she’d love that,” you scoffed. “I’ll be alright. I don’t need more fuel added to the fire,” you dismissed him, slinging your messenger bag over your shoulder and heading down the bleachers.

“(Y/N)!” Zach called after you, continuing to insist he drive you home. You turned him down again and he finally gave up as you crossed the street and headed off school property. You dug out your headphones, desperate for anything that would dull the ache in your chest.

~+~

When you got home, your mother gave you another classic lecture about how you were to come straight home after school. You nodded in assent, not even really listened as she rambled on about how you lived under her roof and you would obey her and your father’s rules if you wanted to keep said roof. You apologized hollowly, reminding yourself you would be eighteen at the end of the school year and this wouldn’t be your problem anymore. You could finally get away and be free.

After her lecture was finished, you were remanded to your room to your silent delight. As soon as the door closed behind you, you let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on your bed. While your mother talked at you, your back pocket had been buzzing endlessly and when you pulled it out you weren’t surprised to find a couple missed calls from Mack and a handful of texts from her and Cyrus.

“What happened? Tell me EVERYTHING.” One from Mack read.

“You okay?” “I may not look like much, but if you need me to kick his ass, I totally will.” Two from Cyrus said.

You texted them both back, assuring them that you were okay and nothing outside of pointless arguing transpired. As soon as the message sent your phone rang, this time Mack’s picture appearing on the caller ID. As you answered, you couldn’t help but wonder when she’d had time to even add that.

“Hello?” you asked into the phone nervously.

“Jesus, how long of a talk was it?” Mack demanded urgently. “What did he say? Was he a dick? Did he try to kiss you?”

“Jesus Mack, no,” you assured her, earning a sigh of relief, “My mom was just pissed I hadn’t come straight home after school so I got reamed for it.” 

“So you got yourself in trouble just so you could argue with some dumb jock?” she asked flatly. You could feel her narrowed gaze through the phone, and knew judgement was being passed whether you liked it or not.

“I mean, I guess I did- Technically. She’ll get over it. I’ve been on lockdown ever since Hannah Baker’s trial anyway, so it really doesn’t matter. What else is she going to do, homeschool me?” you snorted.

“Yeah, well, how are we supposed to hang out if you can’t leave your house, ever?”

“Well, I get about eight and a half hours where I get to leave the house a day. It’s called school.”

“That’s just not fair,” Mack huffed. Cyrus’s voice came across the line in the background and you were surprised at the anxious excitement that fluttered in your gut. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that he barely knew you and whatever his thoughts on the matter were, they had no prevalence to how you should actually be handling any of this. Despite this, when you heard him ask Mack how things went, your heart raced as embarrassment flushed on your face as Mack told you she was handing the phone off to Cyrus so you could talk to him.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked lazily. Your mouth went dry at the sound, mentally slapping yourself out of it quickly.

“Not much, I was talking to Mack but apparently her overbearing older brother wanted in on the conversation,” you remarked, looking at your nails pettily.

“Overbearing, eh?” he asked, feigning offense. “Well if you wanna talk to Mack so badly…”

“Hey, no wait-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you could hear his smug grin through the phone, “everything alright? I may not look like much, but if you need me too I can totally take that asshole out if you need me to.”

“N-No, that won’t be necessary,” you assured him hurriedly, remembering the pictures Tyler had posted after they set the baseball field on fire. “We talked for a couple minutes but it wasn’t really worth the time or trouble I got into for it.”

“What? You got in trouble?” he asked, confused.

“My parents want me home as soon as school lets out and I was almost an hour late,” you told him mournfully.

“What in the hell did you do to get put on lockdown?” he asked curiously, “Let me guess, secret late night career as a hitman, you look the type.”

“Wh-What? No. Jesus,” you giggled, clapping your hand over your mouth to avoid alerting your mother. “After everything came out around the trial and everything happened with Hannah they just don’t want me around those type of kids anymore,” you explained, “I was friends with Jessica and Chloe… It started as just wanting to make sure I was safe but it’s evolved into full blown tyranny at this point.”

“So, what about me and my friends. We’re not like those assholes, you think your parents would let up if you had better influences?” Cyrus asked seriously, as if he was trying to find some kind of loophole.

“I mean, they didn’t like it when I hung around the popular kids, so shit, they might just accept the social outcasts in eyeliner,” you scoffed before quickly adding, “No offense, of course.”

“Well shit, let’s test the theory,” Cyrus challenged playfully. “We’ll walk you home tomorrow, see what they say.”

“Cyrus, I-”

“(Y/N), who are you talking to?” your mother demanded, startling you and sending your phone rocketing out of your hand.

“O-Oh, it’s just a f-friend from school,” you stammered, trying to steady your breathing.

“I told you, you’re not to be hanging around those kids anymore,” she told you sternly, holding her hand out expectantly.

“N-No, you don’t understand,” you pleaded softly, trying to make sure Cyrus and Mack couldn’t hear you. “I-I met them today. T-They’re not like my old friends-”

“Give me the phone, (Y/N),” she ordered. Fighting back tears you handed it over, pressing the “End Call” button as she pulled it away from you. “Mackenzie?” she said curiously as she read the screen.

“She started talking to me today,” you explained, your voice wavering. “She and her brother noticed I looked lonely today, they just wanted to be nice.”

“Look, (Y/N),” your mother started tenderly, “It’s not that I don’t want you to have friends, I just don’t want you end up like-” her voice hitched as her eyes welled up with tears at the implication,  “-Hannah Baker, Jessica or Chloe.”

“I know Mom, you just want me to be safe,” you recited, rolling your eyes at the excuse you’d heard so many times. “Completely isolating me from everyone isn’t going to keep me safe, it’s just going to drive me crazy.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Please don’t, Mom,” you asked weakly, not ready for another fight about teenage development.

“(Y/N), just listen,” she asked firmly, “If you want to make new friends, bring this  Mackenzie and her brother by. Let us meet them.”

“Whatever Mom,” you groaned, turning away from her and focusing on a hangnail you were only making worse by picking at. 

“I don’t trust those popular kids and it was hard to trust your judgement after what happened, just give us a chance. You may not have had a tape but you were at Jessica’s party. That could’ve been you,” your mother reasoned with you, sitting down next to you. You met her eyes, unsurprised to find them filled with tears.

“Don’t cry, Mom,” you sighed, “I’ll walk home with them tomorrow and you can meet them, okay?”

She nodded quickly before standing back up and heading to the door. She stopped and considered for a moment before tossing your phone back to you. She closed the door behind her, leaving you to scramble for the device. One message appeared on the lockscreen, this time from Cyrus.

“You ok?“

[kaffeinic]

Dropping | Bang Chan

1 | 2

Pairing: Reader x Skater!Bang Chan

Genre: Neutral // Fluff // Romance

Warnings: None

Preamble: Christopher Bang, better known as Chan by his friends, was the walking definition of a skater boy. With a charming smile, adventurous personality, and unapologetically flirty attitude, you were determined to keep your distance from him.

“So, what do we want?” Matt asked. Your party took a moment to think over the options.

“We can’t just have sandwiches. We need something fun. It’s a fun day.” Meg said. You chuckled at her momentary childishness.

“We can’t just have sandwiches. We need something fun. It’s a fun day.” Meg said. You chuckled at her momentary childishness.

“I could pick up some ice cream.” Chan offered. He ran a hand through his wet hair, looking at everyone’s collective reactions. Matt and Harry nearly jumped, Meg’s mouth seemed to water at the thought, Sarah hummed in approval, and Kat couldn’t care less. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. I’ll need someone to help me bring it all.” He said.

“You and Y/n can go get the ice cream. We’ll get the stuff for the sandwiches.” Megan said, smirking at you. You didn’t want to be put in a situation where you were alone with Chan’s flirty pick-up lines and lazy grins. She definitely knew what she was doing, and earned herself a glare.

“Sounds good.” Chan said, turning in the other direction. “Come on, it’s this way.” He gestured for you to follow, and you did so begrudgingly.

“Are we getting tubs of ice cream, or the single serve thing-a-majigs?” You asked, tripping over your own words. Chan laughed at you, looking down.

“I was thinking single serve. Kat will lose it if she has to share a bowl.” He replied. You imagined the scene that would unfold, and agreed.

“True.” You said. “I don’t know where any of the shops are, so you’re going to have to lead the way.” You said. He nodded, briskly walking down the pier. There were shops dotting one side, mostly selling various food items. There was one souvenir shop, which you promised yourself you’d come back to.

“How long have you and Meg been friends?” Chan asked you, cocking his head in curiosity.

“Four years, give or take.” You said. “We met in school.”

“Ah, I see.”

The both of you walked into a large archway that led to another street lined with shops and other activities. “Have you been here before?”

“Just the beach. I seem to be directionally challenged, as my family says, so I avoid exploring.” You explained. Chan chuckled at you, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve never understood that. Why don’t you just learn where to go?” He asked. You shrugged your shoulder.

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t click for a long time.” You replied. Chan stopped you in front of what looked to be a charming ice cream shack. He huffed in annoyance when he spotted the ‘closed’ sign.

“They don’t usually close this early...” He muttered. “I guess we’ll just have to go someplace else.” He threw on his shirt and jean jacket that you didn’t notice he had brought. It had intricate designs on the back that made your mouth open in awe. The colours and skyline were beautiful.

“Where to?” You asked. He shrugged.

“Let’s explore.” He looked around, walking aimlessly until he came to large store that was a ten minute walk from where your party split.

“Famous last words.” You muttered. He looked at you and grinned.

“Don’t you ever have fun?”

“Yes, I do, for your information.” You said, crossing your arms. He laughed.

“You’re cute.” Your jaw dropped, but you weren’t surprised at all that he was a flirt.

You both walked into the building, taking a look. It was basically Costco, but not Costco. The place was absolutely humongous, lined with shelves upon shelves of items. Chan walked towards the back where a large ‘DAIRY’ sign hung, and you trailed behind. Once you made it across the store, you both began to search the ice cream section, looking for something you’d like.

“Should we just get a bunch of vanillas?” You asked.

“I’ll get vanilla for them, but I want something fun.” He put emphasis on the last word, glancing at you.

“Vanilla can be fun.” You said. “Any ice cream is fun.”

“This is true,” Chan said, “but the other flavours are even more fun. Pick something out. I’ll pay.” He told you.

“I’ll pay for my own.” You said. Chan looked at you with furrowed brows.

“I can get it. It’s not a problem.” He said.

“I don’t want to be a leech. It bothers me that our friends always ask for things and never pay anyone back. I’m sure they’ve done it to you, and I don’t want to do the same.” You explained. Chan’s gaze softened.

“Are you sure?” He asked. You nodded and hummed in response. He grinned. “Beautiful and independent.”

“You’ve done better.” You commented on his flirting skills. He feigned offense.

“Excuse me?”

You both chose your ice cream and grabbed enough vanillas for your friends, attempting to make your way to the register. The problem was trying to find the register. You both wandered around for ten minutes.

“Are we lost?” You asked.

“I think so, but it’s alright. Look at all this cool stuff.” Chan let his fingers touch a souvenir in the shape of a sea shell.

“We’re lost, and you just said that it’s alright?” You questioned.

“Loosen up and look at the bright side; It’s like a more interesting version of IKEA.” He grinned at your astonished expression.

“You are such a dork.” You said. He chuckled at your lame insult, taking the ice creams you were holding to place them in a small basket. He held onto the handles and began walking again. It was then that your phone rang. Kat’s name was displayed on the screen, and you accepted the call, placing your phone to your ear. Chan slowed to match your pace.

“Hurry up!” Was the first thing she said.

“Chill, we got lost in the store. We’ll be there soon.” You said.

“You-” She stuttered. “I- You- How?”

“I see you English well when you’re stressed.” You commented. You heard a dim chorus of giggles from the other end. You must have been on speaker phone. “We’ll see you guys soon.” You said, later saying goodbye.

“I take it that was Kat?” Chan asked, smiling. You nodded. “Oh, cookies.” He was so easily side tracked when he saw the delicious treats.

“Are you kidding? Kat’s going to kill us if we don’t get there soon.” You said.

“Ah. A five o’clock cookie is truly a thing to behold.” Chan said, picking one up. He examined it closely. “Want one?”

“Chan!” You whined. “Let’s go!”

~

Hey, guys! Thanks for reading chapter two! I hope you enjoyed this one. As always, if you did, please leave a like and reblog for your Tumblr mutuals and fellow k-poppers to read. Let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist! Have a nice day~!

~

* DISCLAIMER: I do not own any gifs/photos used in this post. I do own the written content. Do NOT repost/edit. *

~

🏷 @punk-pan-bih-yeets-thru-life • @hoshithehamster • @woo-for-woojin • @deceased-pumpkin-babe • @ethereal-chanracha • @midnatwlp • @royalhvangs

[schoolfullofmorons]

title: therapy

description: She sighed softly. "It sounds like you may be developing PTSD. Have you ever tried going in for a trauma screening?"

A sort-of sequel to cigars and constellations.

"You know, you probably could've gone to this thing yourself. I mean, haven't you like - I dunno, been to therapy, like, thousands of times at this point?"

Gary tore his eyes away from the window to stare at Pete, who had both his hands on the steering wheel of the car. The shorter boy had his eyes on the road, hardly paying any attention to his ex-friend. Gary took in a sharp breath in the back of his throat as he stared at Pete's collarbone for a long moment, then looked at his face again.

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. But it's been a few months since getting out of the asylum and- and I don't know. I just thought it'd feel less overwhelming with you here." Gary tried to ignore the way his heart clenched. "You didn't have to come."

Pete's face softened, and he glanced at Gary, his brown eyes reassuring. "No, no, it's fine. I was just curious, Gary. It's been so long, I don't really know how you think anymore."

As Pete's eyes returned to the road, Gary turned his face back out the window. This new therapist had been recommended to him by Pete himself, actually, after Gary and him had had a conversation on the dorm couch, Gary telling him all the things that had been going through his head recently. The office was outside of Bullworth by about ten miles. At first a lump had formed in his throat, wondering if it was possible for him to even do this. Gary had never been able to leave Bullworth unless it was with his family, and he knew his father would never approve of him going. It would ruin the family name, or something. Plus, Gary didn't have his licence. But Pete had offered to drive him once he noticed Gary's week-long hesitation, and now here they were, out on the highway in uncomfortable silence.

It was November, and truth was, Gary had been trying his best to avoid having to do this. His experience in Happy Volts Insane Asylum had terrified him. But with senior year came harder classes, not to mention makeup work due to skipping out on his junior year. Plus with his ruined reputation came constant bullying, both from peers and authority. He wasn't even gonna mention college applications. It was exhausting, and then it was overwhelming, and then it was too much.

"I guess I've grown a lot." Gary mumbled to Pete. "Still can't drive, though."

Pete laughed. "Yeah, I remember that horror story you told me about the DMV guy not letting you get your licence in like, what, tenth grade? I think it was sophomore year, anyway, before everything happened. You said you crashed the car."

Gary winced at the story Pete recited back to him. "Aha. Yeah. That was me."

Truth was, he hadn't crashed any car. He had run a red light, and then a stop sign, and his instructor had looked at him and asked for his mental health history. Already showing signs of impulsive behaviors and violent thoughts, they had contacted his current therapist at the time and they had agreed that Gary shouldn't be allowed to drive. Legally. Ever. He was too unwell for it. Gary remembered the disappointment on his mother's face when she had told him he had been declared legally insane, so much so that he wasn't allowed to be a functioning member of society.

Not sane enough to be independent, but sane enough to get punished like someone with normal needs, Gary thought to himself and glanced at Pete. He felt guilty that he had lied, but he wasn't about to apologize now. Apologizing now meant unpacking why he lied in the first place, and unfortunately that reason was that he had ugly cried in his father's convertible on their way home from the DMV. Too embarrassing. Maybe another time.

"Gary, are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know I left super early, so maybe we could get something to eat? I dunno man, you just- I just want you feel good about this. About reaching out for help, I mean."

Pete took in a deep breath and Gary turned to watch him as he talked. "Like, you've always kinda tried to reach out but everyone in Bullworth just fucking sucks so you always get shit on for it. Your therapists have always sucked, that asylum probably sucked, it all sucks. Bullworth doesn't care about you and I want to give you better but I need to make sure you're ready to receive better."

"Petey..." Gary mumbled, feeling overwhelmed from the emotions coming off of his best friend. Ex-best friend. Whatever they were now.

"I just want to make sure you're okay. So like, do you want McDonald's or not? I got paid today at my job, we can get a fry or something."

Gary felt a smile growing on his face, and he raised a hand to wipe his mouth, trying to hide it. "Yeah man. A fry would be dope."

Soon enough, Petey had turned into a McDonald's and parked the car. Before he knew it they were standing in line, and Gary was looking over the toys displayed for the kid's meals.

"When I was little I always wanted one of those stupid cars." Gary told Pete, pointing at the little toy truck they were selling. The line shuffled forward slightly, and Pete turned to look at him curiously. "My dad always said it was too childish, though. He wanted me to have books and fancy oldie movies such as Forrest Gump. Watching cartoons was for babies."

"Your dad's lame." Pete shook his head once, then twice. "Who could think that cartoons are bad?"

"I dunno." Gary laughed and bumped Pete's shoulder with his own. "I always, like, okay. Don't laugh at me for this, but I liked letting you pick movies, cause you'd pick Disney cartoons and they made me feel really happy."

"You always did like The Aristocats." Pete mumbled thoughtfully.

"I think I had a thing for Thomas O'Malley, in all honesty. Maybe I'm a closeted furry or something." He grinned and Pete rolled his eyes.

"I think you have a thing for himbos. I mean, you've had a crush on Jimmy for what? Months?" Pete laughed as Gary's face turned red, and he could feel his heart in his throat, thumping hard.

"Jimmy's... not my crush. He doesn't even- I mean, I haven't even- we haven't spoken, Pete." Gary mumbled in a low voice and his eyes burned as Pete looked at him, really looked at him, and then seemed to understand with a soft 'oh' as he looked away and nodded.

"I mean... he did lead you to my car, didn't he?" Pete asked, but didn't look at Gary. "Didn't you speak with him then?"

"Not about sophomore year." Gary groaned. "God, I really fucked up with him. I fucked him up bad, I fucked up our entire relationship and I don't know how to make it up to him."

"Just talk to him, Gary. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"Oh yeah, I guess I'm just supposed to walk up to him and go, 'sorry for almost killing you, James,' and hope he peacefully accepts that." Gary rolled his eyes. "Think logically, Petey. He's gonna be mad - furious, even - and he'll probably yell at me, and frankly, I don't have the mental energy for that right now."

"Well, I'm proud of you for giving it some thought at least." Pete got to the front of the line and put in an order for fries, handing the cashier their money. Gary thought about that for a long moment, about how someone was proud of him despite everything.

When they got back in the car, Gary stole a fry from Pete's hands and laughed at the scandalized look he got in return. He turned on the radio and practically yelled when Nirvana came on, setting to the task of singing Smells Like Teen Spirit at the top of his lungs. Pete laughed at him, then joined him, and the rest of the ride was fun until they stepped out of the car at this new therapist's office and Gary was forced to confront a building he had sworn to himself months ago that he'd never step back into.

Pete let him hold his hand as they walked inside. The waiting room was quiet, almost deathly so, and Gary found that his leg was bouncing with anxious energy before a woman came out and called his name. He was seperated from Pete (who gave him a reassuring smile), and led into the back room.

Gary was traded off to a short, red-haired lady with piercing ocean-blue eyes and a scatter of freckles over her face. She had a tattoo poking out from the sleeve of her jacket, and regarded him with a friendly air that made Gary's head spin. The last time he had had a "nice" therapist - well, let's just say it didn't go so well. As Gary observed her, however, he kept thinking to himself how much she reminded him of Jimmy, and that was a comforting thought in of itself.

"Hello, Gary. My name is Adrian." She closed the door to the small room and led him over to a small couch that he sat down on, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. "What brings you to my office today?"

"Well..." Gary chewed on his bottom lip and looked to the side, his gaze locking on an office plant. It had pretty leaves, and Gary wondered vaguely if he could touch them. "You see, my friend Pete took me to McDonald's today, and I was thinking about my dad. He didn't like for me to get the kid's meals as a child, and he didn't like for me to play with toys or watch cartoons, and I dunno, I think I grew up too fast. And it made me really sad, you know? I just, I've been realizing recently that I don't have to be so angry all the time, I don't have to be on the offensive, but now that I'm relaxing a little everything's been hitting hard."

"I see why you came, then." Adrian's voice was soft. "Parental issues dig deep, I'm glad you can open up about them so effortlessly."

"Yeah. Well, that and I spent twelve months in a mental asylum recently."

Adrian paused, staring at him. He could feel his face burning, and briefly wondered if he had said something wrong before she nodded. "Okay. And what was that like?"

Gary took in a deep breath. "It sucked. Like, really sucked, and now I can't seem to get it out of my head." This isn't going to make any sense, she's going to think you're crazy. "I used to not be afraid of anything, now I feel so scared all the time. It feels like people are watching me, and I'm really- I'm scared someone's going to like, hurt me in my sleep and sometimes I have these really intense nightmares about it and-" Gary looked away as he noticed Adrian's stare, his eyes burning for the second time that day. "Wow, this must all sound really stupid."

"No, no. Keep going." Her voice was reassuring, comforting, and he shifted, nodding.

"Sometimes if people hit me the wrong way I have these really intense flashes like stuff in there is happening again, and then I'll go days and it'll feel like nothing is real... it- it all feels like I'm watching a movie from my own body, like there's- there's stuff in front of me but it's not really there, it's just objects. It feels really strange saying it out loud, but sometimes it comes with these painful headaches and I just don't get it, I'm already on medicine for stuff but-"

"Gary, did something traumatizing happen to you in the asylum?" Adrian was looking at him very seriously, and Gary felt uncomfortable. He nodded. "Can you tell me what it was?" Gary opened his mouth to respond, but then slowly closed it again and shook his head once, twice.

She sighed softly. "It sounds like you may be developing PTSD. Have you ever tried going in for a trauma screening?"

Gary felt his head spin. "PTSD?"

"Yes. It happens when a brain cannot process a painful expierence. Usually comes with flashbacks, nightmares, and in this case," she closed her eyes, "dissociation would mean a special case of PTSD called C-PTSD."

"I..." Gary looked down at his hands. "I had no idea."

Adrian looked down at her clipboard and wrote something down. "I'm going to make you an appointment for a trauma screening, alright? We'll have to see if that's what it is. I can't say for certain with just a one-on-one conversation, but if it comes up that you really do have this, it may be best to get it treated immediately before it progresses so far along that it affects your entire life."

"Does that mean I have to get rediagnosed with everything again? I mean, I'm already diagnosed with-"

"No, no, previous diagnoses don't have to be taken into account just yet. Let's just focus on this for now, okay?" She handed him a paper with an address, date and time on it. He thumbed the paper and then nodded.

"Now, what else has been on your mind? We still have a good fifty minutes before your time is up."

- - -

He hadn't spoken a word to Pete since getting in the car. Pete had tried to talk with him, but once it was clear Gary wasn't saying anything, he had stopped and turned on the radio. Gary stared out the window, watching as the Bullworth sign passed by the car window. His chest tightened.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, man?"

"Well, you see, I have another appointment next week, and I, um..." Gary tripped over his words and Pete was shaking his head.

"No, don't worry about it, man. I'll take you."

"I also have a- a trauma screening-"

"A what?"

Gary went quiet and Pete threw him a glance. "Gary, seriously man, a trauma screening? Why?"

"Adrian thinks I have C-PTSD." Gary fidgeted with the paper in his hand and shrugged as Pete's gasp sounded from beside him. "It's no big deal so please don't worry about it, I just-"

"Gary," Pete was suddenly pulling over the car, and Gary's heart thumped loud in his throat as he put it in park and turned towards him. "PTSD? What the hell happened to you? You've never shown signs of PTSD before, even with your dad."

Gary chewed on his bottom lip and shook his head once, trying to indicate that he didn't want to talk about it, but Pete continued. "Is it the asylum? Did you talk about it with her?"

"N-not a lot..." Gary whispered, stunned by the persistence of Pete's questions. Pete reached over to take his hand and squeezed it.

"Gary, are you okay? I mean like, what happened to you man?"

And then Gary was crying. Pete pulled him into an embrace as loud sobs wracked his entire body, and Pete murmured comforting things in his ear, brushing his fingertips through the taller boy's hair.

His sobs eventually faded into sniffles, and he felt exhaustion weighing down on him heavily. He still didn't speak, but Pete didn't push him too anymore, which made him feel a little guilty. Eventually he offered, "I don't think I can talk about the asylum. I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"It's okay..."

"I don't know what's going on either. You're right. This is new and it's scary and I don't know how to handle it. I promise I'm trying I just..."

"Gary, man, stop. It's okay." Pete sighed softly and squeezed his shoulder when he pulled away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay." Gary wiped his face and they looked at each other. Pete smiled faintly at him and then pulled away to start the car.

By the time they got back to the school, night was beginning to fall. Gary dragged himself out of Pete Kowalski's car, exhausted, and Pete walked around to hold his hand and lead him inside the gates. When they reached the dorm's doors, Gary could see Jimmy sitting on the steps, spinning a yoyo in his hands absentmindedly. Gary stopped abruptly but Pete tugged him along, whispering reassurance.

"Hey Jim." Pete greeted, and Jimmy looked up. He stood, still shorter than Gary, and looked at their hands twined together with an air of curiousity.

"So, how was therapy?" Jimmy finally said, his voice joking yet serious all at once. Gary planned on letting Pete do the talking before Pete pulled his hand away and shrugged.

"Let Gary tell you about it, man. I got stuff to do." Pete stepped around Jimmy and entered the boy's dorm, and suddenly Gary was panicking in front of his ex-friend turned enemy.

"Um." Gary shifted his weight and rubbed a hand over his face. "I-"

"Have you been crying?" Jimmy reached a hand up to touch his face and Gary practically froze, surprise rippling through him. His face burned as Jimmy's fingers brushed over his cheeks.

"I don't see how that's any of your buisness," Gary murmured, but Jimmy only shot him an exasperated look and rolled his eyes. Taking Gary gently by the wrist, he steered the taller boy inside and led him towards Gary's room.

Gary felt his heart in his throat, not knowing how to respond to any of this as his brain took a mental check out. Jimmy let him go once they were by his own dorm room and then shrugged, looking a little lost himself.

"Look man, I know we aren't on the best terms right now, but I can't hold grudges against someone who's like, actually struggling and trying to better themselves past that or whatever. Grudges are tiring anyway. I just want you to know that like, Pete told me you've been struggling and I'll do anything I can to make sure you don't collapse and cause another schoolwide riot, alright? Don't let it get that bad again. I'm not making the same mistakes twice."

Gary didn't know what to say, processing this new information briefly. "Thank you..." He finally said. After a brief moment of silence Jimmy jerked his head in a silent nod, then turned and walked away, leaving Gary on his own again.

[dear-wormwoods]

i know that eddie's first encounter with It and the way It manifests itself as his fear is very telling of him being gay, but what do you think the encounters It had with the other members of the loser's club (like mike with the bird, stan with the dead boys, etc) are indicative of?

Okay Let’s Talk About the Losers’ Fears!

The interesting thing about IT is that, for most kids, the fears IT manifests as are pretty basic. Movie monsters, comic book monsters, vampires, mummies, etc. So not all the Losers have super deep meanings behind their fears, the way Eddie and Beverly do, and I think it definitely reflects the level of contentment they experience in their every day life. Obviously Eddie’s IT experiences are symbolic of his fear of his sexuality and the self-loathing that comes along with that, disguised as a ‘diseases are gross!’ sort of thing because that’s easier to process for a little kid (and because IT needs something physical to take the shape of). We don’t need to rehash that. But as for the others…

Beverly is not afraid of blood, her fear is much deeper than that, blood is just the easiest physical representation for what she really does fear, which is her own womanhood. In one of MANY parallels between Eddie and Bev, both of their fears are based on gender and sexuality, and both fears exist, at least in part, because of their abusive home lives. Bev’s fear takes on the disguise of ‘blood is gross!’ but really it’s about puberty and menstruation, and what that change will mean for her sexually - because her dad never stops talking about how boys look at her, and what her role will be as a woman re: having sex with boys. And this isn’t the first time King has used blood symbolism for a girl’s fear of the sexual unknown - he did it in Carrie too (and lbr if Eddie and Beverly were fused together into one character, it would be Carrie and if Sonia and Alvin were fused into one character, it would be Carrie’s crazy fucking mother).

Next we have Bill, whose fear is pretty self-explanatory. IT always manifests as something Georgie-related for him, but what Bill fears most is not literally Georgie’s corpse, it’s Georgie BLAMING him for his death. Bill feels incredible guilt for what happened to Georgie, and feels responsible because he helped make the paper boat and because he was too sick to go out with Georgie that day and therefore could not protect him (this comes up again and again re: his insistence that Eddie not leave his line of sight like, ever, because he’s projecting his Georgie guilt). Bill actually comes the closest to ‘losing’ to IT because his fear is the most emotional - he almost gives in to the apparition of Georgie basically accusing him of murder, and would have, were it not for the other Losers (particularly Eddie) screeching that it isn’t really Georgie.

Richie’s fears are all based around movie monsters, but they’re a little more symbolic than that because of one small addition: Richie’s name being used repeatedly as a label FOR IT’s manifestations. IT also seems to talk to Richie more, because taunting him is more effective than just existing as a visual. On top of that, IT takes multiple forms for Richie, which is unusual. So we have three (unless I’m forgetting one) - the Crawling Eye, the Werewolf, and Paul Bunyan. The Crawling Eye is a movie monster that really freaked Richie out as a kid to the point where he’d have nightmares about it and wet the bed, and he has a lot of eye-related body horror dreams and it’s pretty gross… dreaming about eyes can symbolize needing to (or refusing to) look inward, and dreaming about something being in/hurting your eyes can symbolize being unable to (or refusing to) confront certain truths, or avoiding emotional intimacy. All of this can easily be applied to Richie, the King of Avoidance, and it’s particularly interesting that the Eddie is the one who injures the Eye, and encourages Richie to fight it too, and that Eddie is mentioned by IT later on in relation to the Eye (the SHOES THING also ties into the Eye whenever it comes up!). So there’s THAT. The Crawling Eye, imo, stands for Richie’s denial and emotional stagnation. 

The Werewolf is also a movie monster, and Richie was very effected by the plight of the teenage werewolf when he watched that movie - so it’s telling that when IT manifests as the werewolf, it is wearing a jacket with Richie’s name stitched into it. I know this has been said over and over, but Richie relates to the werewolf on some level because the werewolf is seen by its peers as a horrible monster, but it’s something it cannot help, and while it presents as ‘normal’ most of the time, when the ‘monster comes out’, it’s instantly ostracized from society. Richie sees himself as a ‘monster’ because he’s consistently treated as annoying, or ‘too much’, or borderline-suicidal to the point where he scares a lot of people off from wanting to get to know him. He feels guilty about being a burden on his parents, he hates that he constantly gets himself into trouble for things he can’t seem to control (undiagnosed and untreated ADHD, most likely), and on top of all that, he’s also hyper-aware of the dangers of ‘looking queer’ in public if he’s caught being affectionate with his male friends. There is a lot going on in Richie’s head that all point to him being very aware that he’s not ‘like everyone else’, but he can’t help it, so Richie sees himself reflected in the Teenage Werewolf… and IT knows that, and tries to use that to ITs advantage. 

FINALLY, there’s the Paul Bunyan statue, which involves a little more reaching to figure out, so bear with me if this sounds insane… Paul Bunyan, in a way, represents Richie as well. Richie is well aware that the statue is an attention-grabber, but it’s also kitschy and stupid looking - he himself describes it as having a ‘cheerful vulgarity’. It’s big and loud, but people hate it and think it’s lame. Richie wants attention, but he’s afraid of being Paul Bunyan - he wants to be GOOD at something, and get attention because of his skill and his humor, not just because he’s loud and ridiculous. He doesn’t want to be talked about as “horrible, garish, and unbelievably gauche”, the way Derry townsfolk talk about Paul. As an adult, Paul turns into the clown and has a literal, casual conversation with Richie, and then eventually turns into Buddy Holly - a musician Richie admired and related to, who died tragically young - only Buddy’s glasses weren’t his usual glasses - they were Richie’s glasses, mended with adhesive tape. So even then, he’s sort of seeing parts of HIMSELF in what IT appears as. SOOO LONG STORY SHORT, Richie is his own worst fear. 

Stan’s encounter with IT, I think, was meant to push the boundaries of what his  mind would accept as ‘real’. Stan’s whole worldview was based on order and a certain expectation of reality being… reality. So IT created a visual as ridiculous as possible, while still maintaining some level of offensive realism (by using corpses of real kids who drowned in the Standpipe) and creating a multi-sensory onslaught that Stan couldn’t deny - music, smells, visuals, etc. ITs goal wasn’t to scare Stan so much as break him, but Stan was able to ground himself in reality with his bird book well enough to escape. But what he takes away from the experience in the end is being offended by what happened. He doesn’t give a shit about being scared, he’s just plain OFFENDED by what he saw. So I think Stan’s kids-in-the-Standpipe experience was meant to just…. totally insult the way he sees the world around him. It’s also one of the coolest visuals in the novel and I will be forever angry that the movie changed his IT experience so completely. 

Ben’s IT encounters are SUPER typical… movie monsters, Halloween costume type of shit, like most of the other Derry kids who became ITs victims. The clown with the balloons floating against the wind, the mummy, the vampire… but unlike Richie, I don’t think there is much deeper meaning to it than just being your run of the mill scary shit, because unlike Richie, Ben doesn’t hate himself. Ben is pretty damn content with his life. He loves his mom, they have a close relationship, he doesn’t have any friends before the Losers but he wasn’t bent out of shape about it… he was fine with being alone, and just being a good student, a quiet bookish kid, and he liked buying candy and eating it in front of the TV with his little bathrobe on. Like, Ben was chill. He was confident in what he liked and what he knew how to do, he was a real ‘you do you’ kid. He wasn’t even THAT upset about being fat until other kids made fun of him for it. So Ben’s just going through life, more comfortable than the other Losers. He’s content with his gender and sexuality, he’s content with his skill set and his interests, he doesn’t care about how others perceive him, he’s adaptable, and he’s not plagued with guilt. So IT doesn’t really have a TON to work with, lmao. Movie monsters are all IT has at ITs disposal when it comes to Ben, and that’s all there is to it. And in general, Ben is one of the least affected by IT… he really doesn’t even seem that afraid of IT, on the whole, but he reacts most strongly to the things that sort of go against the laws of physics (the balloons moving against the wind, the Neibolt House seeming to change shape and size)… but even then, the only real symbolism there is that Ben loves physics and architecture. 

Lastly, Mike’s experience with IT is… interesting. I’ve talked about this a lot with @mikehanlonstan and we can’t really come up with good symbolism for the bird aside from the simple ‘he was attacked by a bird as a baby’ explanation from the novel. Which would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that Mike’s dad… saw the same bird?? Like, what is it with the Hanlons and this weird bird? Who knows, I sure don’t. I was looking for racism symbolism but like… I feel like ‘It’s a bird… like a crow, get it?? Like Jim Crow??” is too lazy even for Stephen King. Also it wasn’t a crow, anyway… it was something that doesn’t exist in the real world, otherwise Stan wouldn’t have been able to get it to go away with his bird facts later on. If anything it just establishes a stronger connection between him and his father, and the long-term connection they both have to IT.

[k00kie-krumbl3]

Tell Me Lies

 A/N: Song recommendations: Tell Me Lies, Ridin' Solo, & Let Me Love You       

Previous l Next 

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        Over the past few months, many things have changed. Elaine and Hoseok broke up, Elaine got heartbroken by Jungkook, finding out that he actually has a girlfriend but she doesn’t go to their school, and Jimin and I are really close now. Yet, he doesn’t know everything about my life. 

        Today was different however as Jimin decided to drag me to a party, not just any party though. Jungkook was throwing a surprise party for his girlfriend and we were invited. Seeing Jimin pull up in the driveway, I quickly grabbed my bag and went over to the front door. 

“Where are you going?” I heard Elaine ask, making me freeze up in my spot. 

“Um to... Kook’s house...” I said, waiting for her to get angry. 

        “Wait, wait, wait. You’re trying to tell me that my friend invited your lame ass to a party?!” She chuckled in disbelief, “unbelievable. Wow. You know what go to your little party.” Elaine sneered, my stomach dropping. Looking at her, she had a sweet smile on her face. 

        “Oh don’t give me that face. I bet you’ll have fun. Use protection by the way. Especially since you obviously caught Jimin’s eye even though I told you Eliza liked him. Did you know that she asked him out last Friday and he rejected her?” Elaine asked, staring at her wide-eyed she giggled. 

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t. Wow. Guess you suck his dick so good he couldn’t give that up, huh?” She retorted.

“We-I- we’re just friends,” I explained, 

        “Oh yeah. As if he wants to be friends with a low life like you. He’s honestly wasting his time being around you,” she remarked, soon going back upstairs but when she reached the top of the steps she looked back. 

        “Oh and while you’re having fun, I’ll be the good sister that you claim I’m not and cheer up Liz since you are the main reason for her heartbreak. Good job, you finally got your revenge,” she smirked, only to glare right after and go back to Eliza’s room. 

I could feel tears begin to accumulate, blinking them away, I opened the door and entered Jimin’s black, sleek car. Giving me a smile, I looked away from him. Opting to look at the scenery instead. 

“What happened?” He asked,

“Did Eliza ask you out last Friday?” I asked him, glancing over at him, I saw his state was now frigid. 

“Ha. She did. And you rejected her. Why?” I asked him.

“This really isn’t the best time-“

        “Yes it is Jimin. This is the perfect time to ask because my sister is blaming me yet again for Eliza’s heartbreak. She’s blaming me for mistakes that I didn’t do. She’s blaming me for every little thing that doesn’t go her way. Jungkook has a girlfriend? Oh it’s (y/n)’s fault. Eliza got her heart broken because Jimin doesn’t like her? Oh it’s (y/n)’s fault. You know what? Drop me off at Al’s I don’t wanna go,” I soon muttered, feeling my tears on the brink of falling. 

“(Y/n) I’m-“

        “Don’t Jimin. You see this. This right here. This is why I don’t- didn’t- want to be friends. I knew this would happen and yet I-I-“ I couldn’t finish the rest as I bursted out into tears. Being friends had its perks but with the witch of a sister basically breathing down my back, the friendship was on the borderline of ending. I just couldn’t deal with this stuff anymore. It’s worse since both parents left to England for work related stuff. Having to deal with Elaine and Eliza is just so hard, keeping up this front of being fine, is difficult. I’m breaking my own rules for crying out loud because of some measly boy.

Feeling the car parked, I looked up from my blurry sight to see we stopped on the side of the road. 

“Jimin what are-“ but I was interrupted as he pulled me into a hug. Slithering his hand to my seat belt he clicked on the button and pulled me towards his chest. 

        “I’m so sorry (y/n). If I could change anything to make you happy, I would.” He exclaimed. “You’re very important to me,” he whispered, combing his hands through my tangled hair, I soon let my tears fall until I was nothing more but a shaking mess. 

“Thank you,” I said, hugging him tighter. 

“I- you’re welcome,” he smiled. Giving me a kiss on the top of my head, making me blush as I buried my face against his neck. 

        “I meant it by the way. You really are important to me and I’m really glad that I met you and that we became really good friends,” he reassured. “Now do you still want to go to Al’s or meet Kook’s girlfriend?” He asked.

        “Let’s go to Kook’s. I’ve never been to a party so maybe that’ll help me keep my mind off of things,” I smiled weakly, making him grab my hand and squeezing it. 

“Of course, love~”

~~~~~~

Reaching Jungkook’s house, Jimin and I quickly ran over to the top of his steps and rang the doorbell. 

        “Finally you guys made it. I honestly thought you guys weren’t going to show,” Jungkook said, opening the door and letting us in. 

Seeing his house, I couldn’t help but find it cute, or at least all the decorations. 

“What’s your girlfriend’s name again?” I asked,

“Bianca,” he said, “I feel like you guys will get along. She actually has a older brother, do you know Allen?” He asked,

        “Wait. Oh my god! Oh my god!” I exclaimed, looking over at Jimin, “Allen did say he has a sister but she’s always out with her boyfriend or hanging out with her friend Kelly or something!” I said.

“Huh... would you look at that, I guess we live in a small world after all,” Jungkook chuckled.

        Smiling extra wide, I couldn’t contain my excitement to see Al’s sister. She has to be the only person I ever wanted to meet. I just never told Al because he’ll go on and on how I’ll leave him for her. 

        Once awaiting for Bianca’s arrival, we decided to put on different music for the party. Taehyung and Hoseok soon showed up, along with Seokjin, who I learned in the past few months is actually the step brother of Jungkook. 

       Namjoon texted us telling us that Yoongi invited his girlfriend Kelly, we knew that Bianca was on her way as well, since Kelly and her are inseparable. 

“Okay, okay, Ohhh I can’t wait,” he smiled his adorable bunny smile. 

His girlfriend is really lucky that he didn’t get snatched away by my sister. Sighing in relief, I soon heard the door open. 

“Hello?” Someone asked,

        “Surprise!” We all said, making the poor girl jump up in fright, she had short curly hair with highlights, her brown eyes wide in shock, and her milk chocolate skin was prickled in goosebumps. Holding her hand against her heart, we soon heard someone begin to laugh.

        “Aww Kelly~ Did you get scared?” The other girl asked, her straight hair was brown with hints of red and blonde, her chocolate brown with hints of marrón eyes were filled with unshed tears, her tan skin soon wrapped around Kelly’s shoulder as she laughed beside her. 

The other girl, Kelly, was glaring at her. 

        “It’s not funny, Bianca. I almost got a heart attack,” she pouted, her voice wispy and quiet but you were still able to hear her speak. No wonder Yoongi likes her. 

As Yoongi and Namjoon entered, Yoongi had a look of distaste.

“What’s wrong hyung?” Jungkook asked,

“Ask Namjoon,” he tsked.

“No way. You didn’t!” Kook gasped, soon pouting as he knew the answer, only for the pout to quickly go away as Bianca came over to hug him. 

“It’s okay baby~ I love that you threw a party for me anyways,” she giggled, kissing him on his pouty lips. Looking over at me, she cocked her head to the side. 

“Hello! I don’t think I’ve ever met you, yet you look a bit familiar,” she said.

“Oh um... I’m a friend of your, brothers,” I told her. 

“Which one? They all suck... well except Ollie,” she giggled.

        “All of them actually. You poor soul I can’t imagine you living with three brothers,” I sympathized, only for her face to turn stoic. 

        “It’s worse for you.” She said in a cold tone, only for the stoic face to break apart as a pout soon graced her face, “I’m sorry I never tried to get to meet you. Allen talks a lot about you, I honestly thought you were imaginary, or a secret girlfriend of his that he doesn’t want me to meet.”

“Wait you met Elaine?” I asked her,

        “Oh yeah,” she giggled, “she thought I was his girlfriend and told me to “fuck off, he’s mine.” I told her not to worry because I wasn’t planning on fucking my brother. That shut her up real quick. Good thing she didn’t know that I was Jungkook’s girlfriend though,” she stated. 

        “How is that good?” I asked her, watching as she looked around. She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the living room, fixing her ripped jeans, she took off her burgundy bomber jacket, revealing a black tank top, her red converse shoes now next to the door, right next to my black boots. 

She really was similar to Allen then she was to Matt.

         “Well, I mean, Jungy did tell me about what Elaine did and if I’m being honest, I couldn’t stop laughing. No offense, but you’re sister is a bitch, also she can’t stick with one guy apparently. Allen is still butt hurt about her dumping him. Even though, I never did like the relationship. It was toxic and was more about her. He literally had to stop going to his job as a tattoo artist because of her. He really loved her and he did anything for her. It was cute I guess. But he lost his job, he would steal money from us, he started to sell drugs so he can take her to fancy restaurants. It was a whole mess, I had to pull the plug and tell him to talk to her. But when I went to tell him, he came home unmistakably drunk, red hot anger in his veins. Did you know he threatened to kill Hoseok? Yeah his temper was already bad but it honestly sky rocketed that day. I couldn’t stop crying, it tore me to know that someone could do that. To just throw someone who has shown nothing but love and admiration out like it’s nothing. After everything they’ve done. I mean I knew what that pain felt like. It sucks,” Bianca sighed.

“What happened?” I asked her,

        “Just people. Girls. Friends. Friends who dumped me. Yeah. You know it actually took a long time for Jungkook to actually befriend me and date me? Yeah, I was a cold-hearted bitch back then,” she chuckled. 

“How are you-“

        “Together?” She finished. “Love finds a way I guess. It scared me to tell you the truth. I feared that he would do something like your sister and my ex-friends. I know people say people come and go but I hate knowing that we used to be close. Memories haunt me, I remember too much.” She sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder. 

“But Kelly and you?” I asked, wanting to know everything. It was as if I found my doppelgänger. 

        “Kelly and I? Oh she was the only one after my ex-friends left me that stuck by my side. I only trusted her so when Jungkook came into my life, she knew that he was going to stay. I denied that though. Yet fate had a different story to tell as we kept on meeting. First it was at the coffee shop, then the movies, then at a concert. He finally got the courage to ask for my phone number. I decided to amuse him, I was originally just going to block him right after but when he texted me I didn’t really want too. It was weird. But we continued to talk, then call, then FaceTime until we decided to hang out. After, everything else we were at a arcade. We were playing skee ball and made a bet. If I won, he has to do whatever I want. If he won, I do whatever he wants. I don’t know why I thought I can beat him. He’s good at almost everything, it’s frustrating. Anyways, when he won, he- he kissed me. I was shocked but also happy. And ever since, we’ve just been glued together. Same thing with Kelly. Funny thing, he’s actually jealous of Kelly’s relationship with me,” she chuckled, making me smile. 

“Well I’m glad to know everything worked out for you,” I smiled. 

        “Oh chickie~ You make it seem like you won’t find love. I can promise you, you already found it. And I know you already know this but mi casa es tu casa~ If you need a place to escape you can always come to Al’s house or Kook’s. I’m mostly here but if you want to see me to talk, you can always send a text,” she smiled, pulling out her phone for me to enter my phone number, I gave her a smile. 

“Thanks,” I told her. 

        “No problem! Now go up and check on Jimin for me,” she winked. Walking over to her boyfriend who was being his crazy self and making all his hyungs laugh. 

———————————

{Jimin’s POV}

   Seeing Bianca and (y/n) talking on the couch, I walked over to Kelly. She was wearing a white long sleeved jacket, her collarbone was showing as the white mesh was see through. She also had on skinny blue jeans with black combat boots. 

“What’s with the gloomy look?” She asked,

“Oh um nothing,” I told her, only for her to give me poker face. 

        “Okay there is something... can we talk upstairs?” I asked her, nodding her head, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. Yoongi looked at us, but gave a nod in understanding. Going back to his conversation with Hoseok. 

“So what’s up?” Kelly asked,

“It’s um... (y/n)...?” I replied,

“What about her?”

        “I- I really like her but I know she’s still holding back. I want her to know that I- I care about her... a lot. I told her she’s important to me but she probably thinks I’m lying. I mean... ugh it’s hard,” I pouted.

        “Hey... you know Jungkook had to deal with the same thing, right? The only thing I can tell you is not to give up. If anything talk to Jungkook... but be warned he will most likely gush over his relationship with Bianca,” she warned, giggling after. 

Nodding, we both looked up as (y/n) appeared in front of the bedroom door. 

“Oh sorry. Was I interrupting anything?” She asked shyly,

Kelly giggled, "oh no. You came here, just in time," she winked. Leaving the both of us alone. Looking at her, she say next to me. 

"So?" 

"So..." 

"How's life?" (y/n) asked, making me burst out in laughter. 

"Really? God this is the most awkward conversation, " I chuckled. 

        "Well I don't know what you want me to say," she pouted, twirling my orange hair around. When she saw that dyed by hair orange, she couldn't stop staring. Only to whine why I couldn't keep my pink hair and had to dye it from black to orange. 

        "How about I tell you about the time I had a boyfriend?" (y/n) asked, a pained smile on her face. "The time I was actually happy. I think it's time you know why I'm so cold."