#oops turned out i have more repressed frustration that i thought!

[ziskandra]

11 and 22 if you're choosing violence? 😈

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered Answer here! but tl;dr: about 30 or so 22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores Chantry history!! CHANTRY HISTORY!!! While the pre-Chantry era (e.g. the Magisters Sidereal, Andraste) frequently comes up both in-game and during fandom discussions, outside of the Exalted March on the Dales, I rarely encounter much talk around the early centuries of the Chantry as an establishment, and how it solidified its political power. I think this in turn leads to a lot of my major bugbears with Dragon Age fandom, such as: 1. reducing the conflict in thedas as purely a mage vs. templars issue: we now have clear evidence that there's much more happening! the qunari are advancing south! of course, the templars (and mages) were a HUGE part of southern thedas's defenses! while corypheus might have failed in his goals, the entire south is still in. shambles, which leaves them vulnerable to further incursions.

2. speaking of incursions. the qunari. i feel like people sometimes forget that the qunari wars were relatively recent (the llomerryn accords were only signed in 7:84 storm! ~150 years before current events!), and prior to that, they had amassed so much territory across tevinter, rivain, antiva and the free marches that the imperial chantry and the southern chantry had to team up (unprecedented!) to force them back. anyway we know the qunari are coming back and they are NOT fucking around. i just. haven't seen this discussed much lately? (although please, someone, anyone, if i am missing a conversation somewhere PLEASE let me know. i wish to devour it whole with my eyeballs). also the codices in the history of kirkwall series mention how instrumental the chantry's mages were in combating the sarebaas during the qunari wars, which is only more incentive for the Chantry to keep a tight hold on the mage population (of the ones who are useful enough to fight wars or otherwise contribute to the cause, that is...) 3. basically, i'm just fed up with how huge chunks of the fandom criticise the worldbuilding and writing, especially when it comes to the interplay of political power. of course, there are groups that are more complicit in various atrocities than others! but without examining the reasons behind these issues, it's not actually possible to develop viable long-term solutions to these problems. without a thorough understanding of why something came to be the way it was, the oppressed can so easily become oppressors bc. well. power corrupts!! and if one looks at dragon age through a lens of it being a story about geopolitical and the corrupting properties of power, it feels like to me it's very obvious what story the team is trying to tell? don't get me wrong, of course there are always critiques to be made of how bioware is telling that story. i can understand that there are times where the team fumbles the ball or addresses something clumsily, and i think there are a lot of valuable conversations to be have on these matters! but it often feels like people are more invested in discussing the game they wished dragon age was rather than the game that actually exists. so often posts that gain traction these days are like 'this is how i would totally revamp character x/event y', and while i think that can be a useful exercise too, it just feels overpowering at times? that like, there's this sense that everyone agrees that the same things are wrong and must be fixed, which is. frustrating. because again, we are all different people with different experiences! we connect with parts of the narrative, different parts of characters! we are all complicit in our personal biases!! and i feel like there would just be. a lot less defensiveness and hard feelings if people allowed each other more space for alternate perspectives on the games. my own takeaway is this: personally, i think that dragon age, at its core, is a cautionary tale against hubris, and more specifically, the hubris of any one individual or group thinking they know what's best for everyone. of how, as people, we're more powerful when we're able to put our minor differences aside to tackle the bigger problems. of how everyone is coming from their own experiences and backgrounds and how that impacts their behaviour in the present and future. of how some narratives can be more dominant than others. of how history is never 100% certain. and in light of this, and the state of dragon age fandom as a whole, i have chosen to view the fandom as an elaborate piece of community performance art (of which i am also a part). this in turn makes the whole endeavour less frustrating, and dare i say it... sometimes even fun.

[choose violence ask meme]

[mjanelupinblack]

starving creatures | chapter one 🖤

pairing: xu minghao x reader // jun x reader (mainly lol)

description: starving creatures have arrived at your homeland in forks. little do you know, they not only intend to drain the blood out of you... they'll also to break your heart in two.

genres: slowburn (please bare with me), fluff, angst, vampire!au

warnings: blood drinking, lot of blood related themes, repressed emotions, family issues, miscommunication, kinda toxic friendship with cheol? blood and smut will be mixed. emotionally and physically starved vampires oops. did i mentioned blood?

minors dni!!!

fic playlist 🖤

w/c: 3.2k

a/n: like i said, slowburn as f*ck. you'll have to wait to have fun with jun and hao but it'll be worth it if you bare with me. also i am having so much fun writing this omg ^_^ english isn't my first language and i don't have beta readers so kind feedback is welcome <3

CHAPTER 1

Joshua Hong had been the first for many things in his life: the firstborn, the first brother to complete his education, the first student among his classmates to perform a solo surgery, and one of the first doctors to try chloroform for his medical procedures, as anesthesia wasn't nearly as developed as it is now.

He was also the first one to be turned.

No other outcome could have been expected. People like him - young, enthusiastic, seemingly blessed by the gods - had to have some divine punishment waiting for them. Josh's penance would be to live forever with his luck... and to have it slowly fade into misfortune.

As a doctor, he never thought life could be eternal. He had witnessed all types of miracles at Paris Salpêtrière, but no soul had ever gotten to escape the sweet lullabies of death. At first, he felt terrible about it. Doctor Pierre had told him to get used to it, as God only gives special treatment to his friends. Little did he know, Pierre was a close friend of Him. He didn't notice it until he found himself digging a blade into his tutor's jugular vein.

No pulse could be found, but Pierre's breaths were still steady.

"Let's go, Josh! Everything's packed!" Vernon shouted as he got into the driver's seat.

"Do we really have to go through this again?" Jun complained, as if it would change anything. For the last time, he stared at the California house that had been their home for the past ten years.

He always got too attached.

"C'mon, man, you know it's better this way," Vernon replied.

From the passenger seat, Joshua looked at them. Minghao rubbed his brother's back and gently pushed him into the car despite his deep and frustrated sighs. This might be the worst part. But upon reflection, the worst part might also involve the one where locals started noticing their lack of aging, leading him to search for a new town.

"Jun, you can't be mad..." Vernon tried.

"Hum, yes, I can be mad," Jun countered. "And I can't believe you all think it's possible to move from California to this nowhere town."

"This 'nowhere town' is called Forks, alright? And it's your new home, so you better get used to it."

Nowhere Town. That's a good name, as it reflected all the peace Joshua had been praying for since Junhui and Minghao joined his and Vernon's odd nomadic, supernatural-like lifestyle.

"It's always cloudy there. You'll get to hang out more often with your friends."

"Sorry, what friends?" Jun asked sarcastically.

"You'll make friends eventually, Jun. Stop whining," Minghao said.

You didn't believe Forks was the best town in the world either. The landscape, always covered by mist and the ground sticky wet from the most recent storm, looked exactly as it did when you were born. You finished cleaning the house an hour before the awaited arrival. The large windows were all cleaned, not a single stain preventing passersby from catching a glimpse inside.

The house was empty for now, as it had been since the heartbreaking death of the previous inhabitants. You sat by the porch, trying to catch your breath and wondering what the new family looked like. Were they old? Were they nice? Certainly, they wouldn't want anyone to disturb them, otherwise, they would have chosen to live closer to the town center.

Surrounded by trees and animals, your aunt's house was known for attracting people who appreciated solitude.

That's the first thing you learned about Minghao.

There is a van approaching from a distance. The new renters arrived half an hour earlier than you planned. You stand up quickly, shaking the dirt off your pants when, for the first time, you see his face.

You won’t be able to forget that face.

"Y/N, right? We talked on the phone yesterday," one of the guys says. There are four of them now. By his introduction, you supposed you are talking to Mr. Chwe.

"Yes! It's so nice to meet you all, Mr. Chwe."

You shake his hand, surprised to find Mr. Chwe, a doctor, looks more like a student who just pulled an all-nighter.

He also has the temperature of an old man.

"Just Vernon, please," he said.

You had a speech planned, but right now you're having trouble remembering what you were going to say. There's a man behind Vernon who looks at you with tender and compassionate eyes. You assume he's Joshua, the one who responded to your emails.

"I'm so sorry my aunt couldn't make it today. As I told you, she's been sick. It would be difficult for her to climb all the way up here. I'll give you the tour, if you're comfortable with it."

Vernon shows his understanding. The same goes for Joshua, who breaks into a sincere smile and thanks you for being so attentive. It's almost as if they're acting like parents. And then, there are the kids...

"Actually, I'm tired. I'm sure we can figure out the house ourselves."

"I could really use some sleep."

"We've stayed in bigger houses anyway."

"Jun, Hao... Enough of that."

Jun and Hao; you're not sure which one takes your breath away more. With their silky, white, shoulder-length hair, they stand in the woods like fairies in a fairytale.

But you imagined fairies to be... more polite, perhaps.

"It's okay. It must have been a long ride for them. I'll leave you to rest." You tranquillize Mr. Chwe with a smile, but think, Morons, in your head.

Almost as if he heard what you said, Jun's face contorts in a gesture that appears both surprised and offended.

"Do you all see that little house right there?" you ask, pointing down into the distance past the trees. "That's where I live. Just call me if you need anything. We're the only neighbors you have around, besides the Boo Family. Oh, and I almost forgot. They asked me to leave you a present since they won't be able to come and say hello today. I left it inside."

"A present?" Minghao asks, his forehead furrowed and a fucked up temper. It's as if you'd just left a bomb or something in their kitchen.

You feel small under his gaze.

"Yes... it's just a beautiful mirror."

•••

Vernon was the second one to get turned.

He graduated from uni, having already killed a man. He tasted his blood, vomited to stop feeling sick, but then got the imperious need to drink from him again.

“Who the hell is this Boo Family?” Jun asks once they get to the house. The mirror is still covered in the living room. There’s no use in unwrapping it as they can’t use it anyways.

“Some old friends.” Vernon answers, face paler than usual.

He made a vow to never to steal a life again. No matter how hungry he was, no matter how weak he could get, he had a strong set of values he planned to spend the rest of his non-desired eternity with, even if people told him it wasn’t the natural thing to do.

“Explain yourself.”

“No explanation needed… Just go to your room, Jun.”

“Are you grounding me or something? I thought we were over with all this weird family shit.”

“I could be your grandfather, how is that weird to…”

“Boo Seungkwan is the man who brought Vernon into this life, okay?” Joshua explains.

Josh had been his mentor. Studying hard for his degree, Vernon was only seven years younger than him and had a mind full of dreams. One of them was to become a doctor as brilliant as Joshua, which, after a lot of sacrifice, he did. But he never thought his desire to be like Joshua would put him into a world so dark and twisted. When he said he wanted to be like Joshua, he never imagined… this.

“There’s your answer.” Vernon says.

He wouldn’t have endured sane this long without Joshua as a friend.

“Don’t worry, mate, we are leaving this place.”

The house is big. Of course, they lived in much larger houses than your auntie’s, as Jun said. But this house… There is wood covering the walls and enormous trees blocking the sunlight from the windows.

Vernon asks himself, is it always going to be like this?

Will Josh and he finally be able to take daytime shifts? Will they be able to walk around town without having to worry about deadly eruptions on their skins?

Sunglasses and long sleeves, then they are ready to go. The offer is tempting.

“There’s no need.”

“What do you mean?” Joshua asks in disbelief.

“I mean… We already paid the girl.”

“And she can keep the money. We’re leaving.”

Jun seems thrilled. What will their new location be? Bahamas? Maybe France? Oh, he loves pain au chocolat! Now it is gonna be great.

“I want to give it a try, Josh,” Vernon says, much to Jun’s disgrace. “Yejin is dead. And there’s no other reason for the Boo family to attack me again.”

“Yejin? Like your ex-friend Yejin?” Minghao asks.

“More like the maniac, out-of-her-mind-obsessed-with-Vernon, Yejin.” Joshua corrects.

“How did you know about her, Hao?”

“I might have stumbled upon your diaries once. But then we moved, and I don’t know where you hide them anymore. So I’m kinda stuck in the middle of the tale.

“Well, well, well… Looks like we know very little of each other to be part of the same family, Mr. Chew. Or should I call you Doctor?”

Jun disappears from the room, not caring for Joshua, who wants to say something to him. Even if he couldn’t move at this dazzling speed, he would’ve been able to escape the situation with equal grace.

That’s the way he is.

“Welcome to Forks, then.”

•••

“So… the new renters are a piece of shit.” your friend Cheol says. It's nice to catch up after a whole summer apart, not seeing or hearing anything from him.

Your ankles ache from the cold wind that bites as you walk the last stretch to school.

“That’s not what I said,” you explain. “The doctors were very nice to me. But the young ones… This guy Jun was in a terrible mood and treated everyone like shit. The other brother was…”

Threatening? But gut-wrenchingly beautiful? Eyes so deep like sinking ships after crashing with an iceberg?

“…a bit serious, I don’t know. When the doctors asked me if there was a highschool nearby, I thought I'd get to make some friends.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough of a friend?”

Okay, that was a low blow and you need to respond to it.

“The whole summer you went missing. So yes, at some point your friendship felt short for me.”

Many years of friendship taught you that you can open up with Cheol whenever you feel sad or lonely. You arrive at school and identify some of the friends he spent the whole summer with. A sight escapes your mouth. You love the guys, but you kinda wish your alone time with Cheol would have lasted longer.

And he notices.

“We can hang out later. Just you and me,” he promises, grabbing both of your hands. “We can sneak and spy on this jackasses’ house. Then you’ll watch them nose-picking and realize they’re not that big of a deal.”

“Voyeurism? That 's the date?”

Cheol pinches your nose in between his fingers and smiles playfully. Same old smile. Same old gesture that makes you feel safe. Even after a whole summer of not knowing what the hell is going on in his head.

“I know you. Don’t act like you don’t like to get into other people’s lives.”

Touché. You admit there’s a certain rush of adrenaline growing in your veins whenever you think about getting into your new renters’ intimacy. There's a certain power that comes with knowing about other people's secrets. Even when you don’t plan to use any of those against them.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I take it as a yes.”

“Take it as a maybe I'd rather go grab some coffee and not do such creepy things!”

You hit your friend in the arm playfully. When they see you coming, the gang welcomes you with a hug and some cheering. Hoshi tells you about how your best friend drank his blood’s weight in beer and none of the parties were near as entertaining as when you are there to join them.

You don’t believe him. You know he’s only saying this to make you feel better. But you have nothing against white lies when they serve their purpose.

“Maybe invite me next time?” you say, knowing that you are asking for the impossible.

Soonyoung looks at Dino, who answers without saying a word. Cheol pulls you closer to him. Silent and almost surrounding you with his arms.

“I really don’t think you’d like it,” Soonyoung says. “Plus you’ve been busy training, from what I heard.”

Of course. Training. You are not sure what Soonyoung must have heard about it, or who he must have heard it from. But this summer, you have been leaving your house at five in the morning everyday with the intention of running your sacred five miles before seven a.m—or whatever number of miles you could do before starting to feel like you’re about to pass out. It has been awesome; wind whipping your skin and not a single thought crossing your head. Just a pleasant sensation of hurt that would leave your legs shaking and your mind blank.

After that, you’d return home just in time to give your auntie her meds.

And then you’d like to run away again.

“Are you getting into a competition or something?” Dino asks.

“Nah. I was just doing it to clear my mind. But who knows… I’m fast.”

“Maybe I could help your train then”

Around the corners, or maybe even a couple of blocks away, there’s a soul with the extramundane ability of hearing your thoughts and sayings with just the gaze of your silhouette.

“Hum… who the hell are you?” Seungcheol asks him.

He wasn't there just minutes ago. You must have been too lost in your own thoughts as the sight of your neighbor makes your heart skip a beat.

Maybe he wants you to introduce him?

“Guys, this is Jun. My auntie rented the house to his family, so he and his brother are new here.”

“Great way to introduce yourself, mate. You’re an asshole, from what I heard?”

You step over your friend’s foot, hoping to subtly silent him. Damn, Seungcheol has a big mouth.

“Actually, I’m here to apologize,” Jun says, much to your surprise. And then he looks at you like no one else is there. “My manners weren’t the best. We had a long trip from California so I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“California? You’re a ghost, man.”

Ignoring Soonyoung’s comment, your neighbor continues trying to apologize.

“I just wanted to let you know that whatever neighborly thing you need, you can count on my family and me.”

Just by the way they’re silent, analyzing every bit of him but actually finding nothing, you can tell that the guys already hate Jun without even knowing him.

And for that, you feel relieved.

“Thank you, Jun. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.”

•••

You live in a place so different than Mr. Chwe and Mr Hong’s new house. It only has a few rooms; none of them fancy and only spacious enough for you to sleep and change in there. The little wooden cabin remains hidden in between the trees, all of them prominent enough to prevent your house from being in plain sight. Rain has to make an effort to fall in between thick leaves. And if it wasn’t because of the oscillating movement of your auntie’s chair, Joshua would´t have found it.

He has always been a good neighbor. It’s a signature part of the made up story he tells about himself every time his life changes. So there he is, standing on the porch of your house with a basket of freshly baked cookies in hand. He expects to find you there and maybe ask you a couple of questions about the Boo family and your relationship with them.

“You didn’t have to” you say, receiving the basket in your hands with guilt wrinkling your eyebrows. “Really. I feel terrible. I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“You’ve given more than enough. This is just a thank you. To you and your aunt.”

Some persistent raindrops have started to pierce through the trees.

“Come in, I insist” you say, opening the door fully even though it’s kinda messy inside. You haven’t found the time to clean up and embarrassment shows in the crimson red of your plumpy cheeks. “You won’t make it to the lodge before the rain. And I was about to make some coffee to warm up anyways.”

Joshua knows perfectly that he will be able to reach the lodge even before the next drop of rain. Despite that, he decides to enter your house and take a seat at your table, waiting for the cloudburst to stop, like any normal person. In front of him, there’s a cup of coffee. He asked for it without sugar or milk because he wouldn’t be able to enjoy those flavors if you put them in there anyways. Of course, the story he tells is different. It’s easier to explain he’s grown accustomed to preparing his coffee bitter in the rush of his night guards.

“So, California…”

Your friend Hoshi’s observation over Jun had been rude but sharp. California’s sun had rejected Joshua’s family in an inexplicable way.

“Yes, we stayed there for a short time,” he answers. For him, that is not a lie. Ten years really is a short time. “We have a condition. It makes us sensitive to the sun. So long term wasn’t an option.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for that...”

“It's okay. We just have to be careful. Forks seems like the perfect place for that.”

“Trust me. Forks can give you a lot of trouble but sunny days won’t be one.”

Joshua takes a sip of his coffee. It doesn’t taste like anything, but it’s reassuring to see you enjoy the cookies he baked but can’t taste.

“A lot of trouble?” He asks, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Coming from California and —from what Vernon told you— previously New York, you imagine your neighbor has no idea of the consequences of living in a place like Forks.

“Well, a small town can be a vast hell if you don’t keep things to yourself,” you explain. “Forks is amazing. But there’s only a few habitants and they all get bored easily, so rumors fly.”

Joshua’s well aware of how deadly rumors can be. Especially when truth revolves around them.

“Do you have secrets to entertain us with, Mr. Hong?” you mock him, feeling a little more comfortable around your neighbor who’s not only a kind person but also a great baker.

His eyes get all wrinkly when he smiles.

“I’m afraid we’re gonna bore you all,” he answers “And please don’t call me Mr. Hong.”

“Fair enough.” You say, while cleaning leftover cookies from the corner of your mouth.

“What about you, do you have secrets?”

You laugh at the question. Maybe it’s because you know the answer damn well.

“Of course. We all do.”

masterlist | next chapter

[imissjoongsmullet]

SOMETHING BETTER (2/2)

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: angst/smut/fluff

Summary: You and Chan have been best friends since before you can remember but now that you’re in college, things start to feel strange, especially with the way he acts when it comes to your boyfriend.

Read part 1

Warnings: part 2 of 2, angst, fighting, cheating, heartbreak, explicit sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (oops I keep doing this, be safe folks), oral sex, blowjob, dick-choking (literally don’t know what else to call that haha), overstimulation, soft dom Chan, verrrrry slight sado/maso moments and a lot of cute stuff

Word Count: 5.5k yeah this part got long oops

Author’s Note: If you haven’t read part 1 I highly recommend you do. I’ve really enjoyed playing out this little fantasy. Thanks again to the lovely anon who requested ♥  also please let me know what you thought! Feedback (good or bad) is so important to me ♥

►

The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach sat, unbudging as you walked the now bustling streets towards Changbin’s apartment. The sun was out and so were the people. It was mostly chattering groups of students on afternoon shopping sprees but you didn’t share any of their excitement. Chan had had no right overreacting like he had just then. He had no idea of the trouble you and your boyfriend had been having and he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain. You hated how short-fused he could be sometimes and for a second you almost kicked a light pole imagining it was him. But then you remembered the hurt look in his eyes and got chills. You’d broken your promise to him. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely in the wrong. After all, it hadn’t been the first time you’d blown him off to go do something with Changbin.

You kept jumping from one thought to the other: anger — guilt — no definitely anger — perhaps a bit of guilt though — it was driving you insane so much so that you felt entirely relieved when you finally arrived at your boyfriend’s place, ready to talk things through.

You rang the doorbell and first heard absolutely nothing. Then, there was a bunch of thumping noises and — was that another person? You suddenly felt a bit bad, thinking you’d interrupted time with his friends or something. It took a full two minutes for the door to finally open. By that time you were ready to apologize for showing up unannounced but when you took a quick glance at the apartment, there seemed to be no one else there.

“What are you doing here?” Changbin said, sounding a bit out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, “I should have called. I just thought maybe we could talk about last night?” You stepped into the living room, frowning. “Wasn’t there someone else in here?”

Changbin’s eyes went wide. “No, it’s just me,” he said following close behind you, hand at your waist, “but listen, can we do this another time? I really have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“I guess so,” you started saying, until you noticed a couple of things. “Babe?” you asked quietly.

“What’s up?” Changbin replied fast, turning you towards him.

“You smell like coconut,” you said, unable to look him in the eyes.

“It’s just a shower gel, don’t you like it?”

“—and there’s someone else’s jacket on the chair over there.”

“Babe,” Changbin chuckled weakly, squeezing his fingers into your hips while his free hand turned your chin to look him in the eyes, “that’s nothing, my friend just left that here a few days ago.”

Tears were starting to burn behind your eyes so you forced yourself away from him.

“I was here last night,” you whispered at the floor, “it wasn’t there then.” You strode over to his bedroom, throwing open the door to find a girl you’d seen on campus before sitting on his bed in her underwear, looking at her phone. She jumped a little in surprise but then looked rather annoyed at being intruded upon. Meanwhile, you were having trouble breathing.

“Babe,” you heard Changbin say behind you, grabbing your shoulder, “I can explain.”

“No,” you said, turning around to him, “don’t waste your breath.” You pushed past him as the first tears started to roll down your cheeks, exiting the building with a stinging feeling in your chest.

You strode down the streets, completely unaware of where you were going. Your head was fogged up with feelings you didn’t want to be dealing with but there was no getting away from them. How long had he been cheating on you for? You didn’t want to believe it but you had the feeling this hadn’t been the first time. The curtain now lifted, you felt foolish for not noticing anything earlier. Your heart felt flayed open, emptying out onto the pavement as you went without thinking.

You knocked on the door, only realizing where your emotions had taken you when he opened it.

Chan looked groggy, as if he'd just woken up from an afternoon nap, wearing grey sweat pants and a sleeveless shirt. When he saw the wetness on your cheeks, however, his eyes went wide with concern.

"What's wrong," he asked, immediately opening up his arms for you, letting you bury yourself into him.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed into his chest, the words tumbling from your lips out of their own accord, "you were right about him."

Chan put a hand on top of your head, keeping you close, letting you unleash onto him.

"I found him with another girl, Chan," you said, raising your head to look him in the eyes. At once, everything in him went soft. He took your hands in his, rubbing the backs of yours with his thumbs gently. There was a flash of anger in him as he raised his eyes to the ceiling and you felt him squeeze your palms tight for a second but then he looked down at you again, like the world was falling apart.

He led you to his couch, where he wrapped his arms around you once more.

"I'm so sorry," he said at last, pulling you close, rubbing your side.

You couldn't believe your ears. "You're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" he replied incredulously, turning to look at you. His thumb came to wipe the tears from under your eyes. "You must be joking."

"I've been an asshole to you lately," you said, "all for that dumb guy."

That made him chuckle a bit. "Maybe a little, yeah," he said, "but you didn't deserve this." His hand came to cup your cheek; something he'd never done before. "You're my best friend. You deserve someone who treats you like you're the only person that matters."

Ripples of something you couldn't quite place but decided to define as nerves went through you. He was so sweet and so close and in the silence that lingered between you, you nearly forgot what you were doing. You just let yourself sink into your friend, let him take care of you as only he could.

"Thank you," you murmered, squeezing your fingers into his shirt a little.

"Any time," replied Chan before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. He swiftly put on a feel good movie before pulling you on him again and continuing his comforting.

You stayed like that for quite a while, huddled together on the couch, his hand moving lovingly over you like a warm breeze, slowly but surely stilling your racing heart and mind. The further the both of you dozed off, the more initmate the embrace seemed to become, legs touching, arms intertwining,..  but neither of you was aware if this, as everything just felt safe and good, just like that.

When you awoke the next morning, the first thing you felt was the tickle of his hair as it dangled slightly against your forehead, then the warmth of his chest enveloping you where you lay. Finally, opening your eyes, you found him fast asleep under you. He was so perfect, skin like silk but arms strong enough to lift you to the sky and lips full and sweet-looking. You watched him slowly open his eyes and you smiled, finding him even more beautiful in that moment. Then you realized he was staring at you and reality struck you like lightning.

With the tiniest gasp you raised yourself off of him, feeling a heat run rapidly through your whole body.

He looked at you dazedly, lips parted and for a moment you didn't know what to do. You were still virtually in his lap, holding you breath for him to say something. The frustrating thing was, it seemed he was doing the same.

Like a blessing from the heavens themselves, your phone started to buzz.

"Shit," you whispered, running over to your discarded bag on the floor, only to miss the call.

“Was it him?” says Chan, the annoyance in his tone crystal clear.

You nodded, staring down at your phone screen.

“Don’t call back,” he went on, getting up from the couch, stretching lazily, before walking into the kitchen, “you don’t have to go anywhere. We can just stay in and watch movies or something.”

You considered it, shooting your friend a glance as he started digging through his fridge and feeling oddly light-headed.

“Maybe next time,” you said, shaking away whatever was taking over you this morning, “I’ve got some stuff to do at home.”

He twisted around, glass or orange juice in hand, eyes drooping for the fraction of a second before going kind.

“Alright,” he said, setting down the glass and walking over to you. He squeezed your upper arm softly, keeping his distance. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a smile.

There seemed to be something lingering behind his own lips but when he spoke up next it was a simple “I’ll see you in class on Monday,” and you couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit disappointed when you parted.

Everything seemed perfectly normal on campus at first. Most classes were dull as usual, people were loud as usual,… but walking next to your friend somehow didn’t feel the way it felt before. You kept thinking of the way he’d held you as you cried, the way he’d wiped your tears and talked you through your heartache. He’d made you feel more loved than Changbin ever had. There was no way you could look at Chan as you always had, though you tried your best to repress these new and strange feelings.

“We need to go over our presentation tonight,” you said, walking out the packed building and into the wide, sunlit quadrangle outside it.

“Mmm,” muttered Chan, more interested in the hot dog he was devouring than the thought of school work.

“Hey,” you chuckled, “this grade is important to me, show a little enthusiasm.”

Chan made a face at you, cheeks round with food, smirking, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Here have some,” he said, putting the rest of his lunch past your lips before you could even reply, “the presentation will be fine. Promise.” He patted the top of your head at you as you took a bite. 

“Fine, no more school talk for now,” you said, lips curling up as well, “but you better be focused tonight or else—”

Chan’s hand was on your wrist in a flash, squeezing. You looked up at him bewildered until you followed his less-than-amicable gaze and understood what was going on.

“Chan, don’t,” you started just as he tore away from you.

Changbin was sitting with some of his friends on a long stretch of grass and Chan was charging right at them.

“You!” he shouted across the quad, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up.

Changbin’s face went from shock to confusion to annoyance as Chan approached. Finally, he shot up from the ground to face the other head to head.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Chan yelled, immediately shoving Changbin backwards.

Once again, Chan’s temper was getting the better of him. You watched in fear as Changbin stumbled but managed to stay on his feet.

“Hey, what is wrong with you?” he called back, squaring up his broad shoulders and getting right back into Chan’s face.

“You think you can treat my friend like trash and get away with it?” Chan spat, eyes on fire, finger digging into Changbin’s chest.

The shorter guy rolled his eyes, a lazy smirk creeping onto his face. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about—”

“Fucking around like a dirty dog,” Chan added, shoving Changbin once more.

By now, a small crowd of students had congregated around the scene and you were growing hotter in the face with each passing second.

“Chan,” you hissed from behind him, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” he snapped back.

Meanwhile Changbin had started laughing. “Listen to the whore, man,” he said, nodding at you, “let it go—”

The next moment, Changbin went crashing down onto the grass, crying out in pain.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed holding his hands over a bloody nose.”

“Chan!” you let out, your voice coming out high pitched and panicked.

But your best friend didn’t hear. He stood over your ex-boyfriend, fists still clenched tight. “You don’t talk about her like that,” he said, chest heaving, “stay the fuck away from her.”

He turned around at last, ignoring all innocent bystanders and came straight to you.

“Come,” he said, grabbing your hand in his, “let’s get out of here.”

“Chan you really shouldn’t have done that,” you said, stumbling after him as he dragged you down street after street but you got no reply. Chan seemed to have entered a whole hotheaded world of his own. His features were stern, so unlike you knew them. He was all tenseness, so much so, you couldn’t get out of the tight grip he still held on your hand. You called his name again and again, hoping he’d come to his senses. You knew where he was taking the both of you; his place was only a few blocks away but you had no idea why. He couldn’t just pick a fight with your ex-boyfriend and then run away like this. Not to mention you both had classes in the afternoon you really shouldn’t be missing out on. Your heart was pounding painfully in your chest and your head spun, unable to wrap around everything that had just happened.

By the time you arrived at his building you’d run completely out of both breath and patience. “Chan, please,” you panted, following as he pulled you up the stairs to his room.

Still no answer.

Finally arriving at his floor you yanked back your hand, forcing him to turn around to you.

“Chan just stop!” you let out, noticing he was just as out of breath as you were, “what the hell even was that? You can’t just—”

You gasped as Chan took both your arms and brought your face close.

“We’re not doing this here,” he said, dead-serious before reclaiming your hand and pulling you to his room.

“Chan—” you started as he closed the door behind him, “you can’t just go around hitting people!” 

“Well what am I supposed to do then, huh?” he retorted, walking up to you, “this guy treated you like shit! He cheated on you and doesn’t even give a fuck!”

“Hey—” you started but his hand shot out to grab your forearm.

“Don’t try to tell me it’s not true,” he said, aggravation starting to fill out his voice, “you always do this. I don’t get you!” he shook your shoulder, making you shy away from him. He was so erratic and confusing and you were simultaneously scared and angry.

“Chan, what are you even talking about?” you snapped back, moving away from him only to have him follow suit.

He threw his head back in exasperation, muttering your name under his breath before trapping you against a wall. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you do,” he spoke down to you, his index finger jabbing just under your collarbone, “you always go for the guys that’ll treat you like crap!” he said, louder now, emotion trickling into the words more and more, “it’s always the same! You’re so fucking naive! You never listen to my warnings and then when you get hurt you come crying to me!”

“Chan,” you said, unable to look at him. 

“Why do you continue to fuck around with these assholes, huh?” he went on relentlessly, “why do you let them hurt you time and time again instead of getting a guy that treats you right?”

Your head finally shot up to meet his, “well, where am I supposed to find a guy like that?” you said, your eyes starting to water, “you think I haven’t tried to do just that?”

“Oh god,” Chan sighed out, coming to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your face in one hand,gently making your eyes meet his. He looked so pained, brows furrowed, eyes like an abandoned puppy. Meanwhile your cheek burned hot under his hand as your head went blank.

“Fuck,” he said at last, his breath hot against your lips, “you don’t even know how well I’d treat you if you let me.”

There was one more moment, brief and terrifying, in which he just looked at you; looked at you like his insides were tearing him apart; before he finally brought his lips to yours with a passion as if it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do in his life.

The vast blank that had taken over your head now exploded like fireworks, sending electricity all down your body. Chan was kissing you; properly kissing you too. The hand that cupped your face kept your lips locked as his second hand now wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The motion elicited a weak sigh, only muffled by his perfect lips. When you thought he was done he went in once more, a bit softer this time, letting it linger between you, lip to lip.

“I’ve wanted you for the longest time,” he whispered against you and your knees went weak.

“Chan.” You only knew to say his name, seemingly having forgotten all other forms of communication.

He kissed you again, chastely, second-guessing himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away just a little, “I know we’ve been friends since forever and this is just weird, I—”

“No,” you interrupted, surprised by your own daring.

“No?” he copied.

Trying to still your out of control heart, you forced yourself to look into your best friend’s eyes.

“No, I mean,” you said, taking a breath, “it’s not weird, it’s…”

“Good?” asked Chan, more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

A tiny smile tumbled onto your lips and you nodded.

It took a few seconds for the meaning behind the action to sink in, in which Chan stared at you, jaw dropped. Then, recognition trickled into his eyes and they moved over your lips, down your body and back up again.

“Fuck,” he sighed out as his eyes arrived back to meet yours and, before you could do anything about it, he crashed his lips back into you.

This time both his hands traveled over your body, exploring places they previously hadn’t been able to. You were now pressed up against the wall tight though there was no place you’d rather be. The way his lips dove at yours over and over drove you wild. Each time they came back for more you knew it would never be enough for him. Eventually he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue caress you as well. You couldn’t help but let out little gasps whenever his hands squeezed extra tight, or his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, causing him to smile into you.

“You’re not a quiet one, are you?” he chuckled against your lips.

You just laughed with him as his hands came down to squeeze your ass before lifting you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him press you harder into the wall. His head buried into your neck and you let out a moan when you felt teeth scraping the delicate skin. That only excited him, so he went in again, this time biting down until more of your little noises filled the quiet room.

“Chan,” you breathed, feeling him grow hard against you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“You getting shy, baby?” he said in a low voice, which only made you wrap around him tighter. You’d never imagined anything like this with him, hadn’t even dared think of it. But now that it was all so real and tangible, you felt more flustered than ever, especially considering ho much you were enjoying every second of it. You were so unused to this tension between the two of you and it made you bashful. But at the same time you were realizing how badly you’d wanted him all these years. His strong arms keeping you in place, his hot breath on you and the way his very clear erection rubbed against you were quickly driving you mad with lust.

“We can stop if you like,” he went on, a large hand going up and down your back soothingly, “we can take it slow.”

You pulled back and faced him, shaking your head, trying not to lose yourself over the tiny bit of friction the move created.

“No?” he questioned, brushing some hair from your face.

“I want you so much,” you confessed finally, “I need you so bad, Chan, please.”

Those last few words drove him over the edge. His fingers dug into your skin hard for a second before letting go, letting you drop to your feet again.

“Come,” he ordered, grabbing you by the wrist and taking you to his room. Once in, he looked you up and down swiftly before taking the fabric of your shirt and pulling it over your head. He smirked at the sight of you and pulled you in for another kiss while his hands felt your bare skin. You fingers found their way to the the hem of his shirt too and tugged until he got the memo and removed it as well.

“Like what you see, baby?” he grinned as he stood before you looking like a fucking underwear model.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him like you usually would but found yourself unable to. You just wanted to touch. Reaching out and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you melted into him. He kissed you deeply, groaning into you and pulling you as close as he could.

Growing all the more desperate, you dropped an arm from around his neck to roam his toned back, moving down to his hips where you were met with the hem of his jeans. You hesitated for a moment until one of Chan’s hands began massaging your ass and you forgot all decency.

You brought your hand around to his front, where your palm could come to rest against his hardness.

You heard him mutter a muffled curse into your mouth as you pressed down slightly. He pulled back from you, eyes glazed over.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” he said, lifting your chin to him.

You just pressed down again in reply, causing him to hum deeply against your lips.

“Very well,” he said, “have it your way,” and he walked the two of you to the bed, getting in and pulling you on top of him. He lay before you now, looking up at you expectantly while you sat in his lap.

“Come on then, baby,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “get to it. Take them off.”

You swallowed, looking down at the tent in his pants, feeling overwhelmed. He gasped lightly when you popped the button and stared intensely as the zipper went down.

Seeing the clear outline of his hard cock through his underwear was enough to make you clench your thighs together. Not wasting any time, you pulled all the fabric down and licked your lips.

“Fuck,” you heard him moan as you let some of your saliva spill onto his tip, dripping down the  pulsing length. Your hand wrapped around, steadily coating the entire shaft as Chan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His hand reached out to you, fingers tangling in your hair weakly as he breathed out, “I need your lips on me baby.”

Gladly, you moved down, kissing his wet tip before moving down over his length. His hand caressed the back of your head as you went, up and down, hollowing out your cheeks for him. You tried to take him in as deep as you could, only getting around halfway. Chan whined things you barely understood at you, the sound of his voice only spurring you on to go faster.

You moaned out around him when Chan’s fingers suddenly tightened in your hair, the next moment forcing you down hard, his dick sliding far down your throat. You sputtered in pain and shock as he groaned in pleasure, keeping you down for a good few seconds before releasing you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said in a strained voice, wiping your drool-stained chin with his thumb as you gasped for air, “I just can’t control—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in and, riled up with adrenaline, you crawled on top of him and kissed him hard. You wanted him so bad; all of him, “just fuck me.”

He kissed back with new fervor, your devotion to him turning him on even more. Hands were everywhere they could reach and touch and grab and squeeze. His eventually landed at your hips, so they could roll your hips against his hard on.

You kept whining into his lips, desperate for more of his touch.

Chan seemed to agree because he flipped the two of you around and immediately got to work on getting you as naked as he was.

“That’s better,” he said, staring down at you like he was high off his ass and you were some delicious, otherworldly hallucination.

You gasped when you felt his finger enter you without warning.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against your lips, “fuck, baby.”

You didn’t have the energy to answer him because he immediately added a second finger, while his thumb grazed your clit. You clasped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

“No, let me hear you,” he said, kissing your cheek until you removed your hand so he could claim your lips again. His fingers worked a steady rhythm, opening you up for him. You kisses grew sloppier as your moans grew more erratic. His lips then moved down towards your neck, nipping at your quickly-bruising skin. “You ready for me, baby?” he asked eventually.

“Fuck,” you let out in between gasps and moans, “Chan, yes, please.”

He grinned down at how needy he’d made you with pride in his eyes.

“Chan!” you whined louder this time, your hand darting between the two of you to palm his now dripping cock, causing him to shudder above you.

“Hey!” he said, yanking your hand away and pinning you down by the wrists, “I’m in charge here.” Something had darkened in his eyes that both terrified and excited you.

Keeping you locked tightly by the wrists, he positioned himself and pushed in.

You arched up at the mixture of pain and pleasure it dowsed you in. Chan was way bigger than his fingers had been. But he was far too gone to notice. His face was all fucked out as he pressed himself in deeper and deeper, slowly until your slickness finally gave in and he plunged all the way in, drawing a high-pitched cry from you.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chan groaned, kissing you and at once starting to move.

It was all too much. You felt him stretch you as he went and you could only thrash under him, crying out helplessly.

“You okay baby?”

The words caught you off guard and when you opened you eyes to look at him you noticed there were tears in them. You raised your head just enough to kiss him. He reciprocated with a content groan, his hands finally releasing your wrists and coming to hold your face as he continued to thrust harder.

“More,” you begged under him, “Chan, more.”

By now, most of the pain was gone and your pleasure was only heightening.

Chan kissed you again, sloppy and wet, his tongue lapping at your lips like they were ice cream before sitting up a bit straighter and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder.

You hadn’t thought it possible but he was hitting you even deeper than before. You bounced against him wildly, not caring what neighbors might hear your out-of-control moaning. He shook you over and over finding that spot you needed his touch the most. He smirked down at you, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He spread you legs wider with one hand while the other came down to rub your clit.

“Chan, please,” you begged, “I can’t— I won’t last— I—”

“Good,” he replied in between pants, “cum for me,” and he sped up his hips.

All you could do was clasp your hands over your face as you cried out his name repeatedly. The high was so overwhelming you shuddered with it. And Chan wasn’t letting up; the pounding of his hard dick and the pressure of his thumb at your clit danced with you through the entire thing, making sure you got ridden out properly.

“Chan,” you whined out when the ecstasy of your orgasm had faded and was replaced with a heightened sensitivity, “too much!”

“Hold on, baby girl,” he panted in your ear as he continued fucking into you hard and fast, “I’m almost there.” He hugged you close, the sounds escaping both your lips creating chaotic harmonies as your worlds shook together.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, “baby, fuck!”

His thrusts became erratic and his breath hitched before you felt him fill you up. He curled around you, his groaning directly in your ear as he rocked into you, slowly coming to a halt.

He didn’t move for a few minutes. You lay, chests heaving against one another, sweating on each other. Eventually his head turned to face you and you saw your best friend, Chan, smiling down at you, not unlike how he always had.

“I can’t believe it took us this long to do this,” he said, grinning.

You pushed him off and rolled on your side towards him, getting shy again all of a sudden. You started to pull the unused blanket over yourself but Chan tore it away from you.

“No more need for this now,” he said, running his fingers up and down your arm lightly, “I wanna be looking at this all the time now.”

“Stop,” you said, hiding your face.

You felt Chan’s strong arms wrap around you, cuddling you close. “Nope, sorry,” he said, “you’re totally stuck with me now.”

You groaned into his chest, though it was apparent to the both of you that there was nothing to complain about. You’d finally found each other to be what you’d been meant to be and there was nothing greater than that.

Yup, everything was just perfect.

Well, there were maybe two things:

There was of course the matter of Changbin.

You were a little worried about facing him at first but it seemed the boy had learned his lesson not to mess with Bang Chan and the people he cared about.

Lastly, there was your presentation that was due the following day. Being the horny, lovestruck idiots you were, the two of you completely forgot about it and had to improvise a half-prepared project but for the first time in your life, you weren’t all that upset about the prospect of a bad grade.

[cabinofimagines]

Here

GenderNeutral!Reader x Percy

Summary: Percy survived Tartarus but his dreams make it feel as if he’s still there. The reader has taken it upon themselves to act as an anchor or sorts, keeping Percy grounded until the PTSD lessens.

A/N: Yknow it took me a few hours to write this bc I was so damn distracted. Anyway here’s this and I’m sorry but towards the ending I uhhhh lost sight of the plot. Oops? -Day

___________

It’d been more than a week since his last nightmare; a new record. At first, he refused to sleep in fear that he would have to relive the experience over again in his dreams. Of course, he couldn’t stay awake forever and after 4 days of fighting exhaustion, he was back.

 He could taste the acid air with every staggering breath he took, the wave of sadness from the river Cocytus held on tightly, digging up feelings and memories he had repressed. He stood on the shattered glass on the shore, his shoulders heaving as panic settled in. He glanced around to find his support in all of this but saw nothing more than the angry red clouds and the neverending grey landscape.

“Annabeth?” He cried out, his voice cracking, “Annabeth!?”

His head whipped around, trying to catch a glimpse of her blonde hair fluttering somewhere nearby, but nothing. He heard screams echo in the distance but wasn’t sure who or what was crying out, but he was sure that his yelling had just alerted them. 

Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes, he was alone down here. 

“Percy!”

The shouts grew closer and closer, his feet moving towards the sound. If it was a trap then he’d deal with it, but for now, he just didn’t wanna be alone.

“Percy, Percy wake up!” He heard in his ear faintly, his body trembling as if he was being shaken. He clutched his head in pain, the shouting louder than ever now, “Percy!”

His eyes snapped open into darkness, sweat beading on his forehead, and the sheets twisted around his body from where he tossed and turned. His chest heaved rapidly and his heart pounded against his chest like it was attempting to break free from his body.

He felt cold hands slide across his shoulders and to his face, forcing him to look at whoever woke him from his nightmare. It took him a moment to take them in, for his eyes to stop darting around the room and finally settle on those comforting (e/c) eyes. He should’ve known they’d swing by, even if it was just a check-in, Y/n always made a point to stop by a few times each night since he’s gotten back. 

Percy had never actually thanked them for everything they’d done for him. From making sure he was eating to keeping him occupied so his thoughts didn’t wander, they’d been the best from the day the Argo II landed in camp. 

He let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, tears filling his eyes in relief that it was only a dream. He watched as you wiped a stray tear from his cheek, your other hand pushing his messy, sweaty locks from his forehead. You looked sad, almost as if it physically hurt you to see Percy so afraid of his own memories. 

Percy watched as your eyes twinkled in the dim moonlight from the windows. They were mesmerizing, like two pools of (e/c) with various shades freckled through them like stars,  distracting him into a calm without much effort.

His head slumped into the crook of your neck, arms winding around your middle as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. It wasn’t uncommon for this to happen anymore, but each time still broke you just as much as the first.

He sniffled and drew you closer, forcing you to fall onto the bed with him. Your position stayed the same, though it was a little more awkward as you sat on his lap with your left leg bent at an uncomfortable angle. You said nothing and held him close, smoothing his hair down and humming a song quietly.

“Are you really humming All-Star right now?” He chuckled lowly, pulling back to give you a small smile. 

You smiled shyly, “Maybe?” 

As if he sensed your leg falling asleep in this position, he twisted around so that you lay side by side, noses brushing against one another. He struggled to detangle the sheets from around his legs, but eventually, he managed to tug them over the two of you. You lay in silence, letting him trace his fingers along your body, trying your hardest not to giggle when his touches became ticklish.

He paused and closed his eyes briefly, “I’m sorry” It was so quiet you nearly missed it, “I’m so so sorry, and if I could stop it, believe me, I would.”

Your heart ached, why he would ever apologize for something he has no control over? You pulled yourself against him, cradling him in your arms.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault in the least bit,” your voice held a gentle authority which made him hide his face once again, “I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

“I’ll always want you here.”

Nothing else was said and after a few more lingering touches, you two were out like a light. Percy woke up a few times during the night, but this time you were right there holding him tight.

[ravenhilarious]

My thoughts on the “Roman was Janus in ‘Moving On’” theory

I really like the theory that roman was briefly possessed by janus in Moving On, but now I have found something that furthers that (forgive me if others have pointed this out already)

(little warning: there’s some angst)

this was the moment that lying was first brought up, which could mean that janus was somehow summoned in this exact moment

and right after, roman started talking about “bluffing”

“keep your lips locked” 

wait who is it that can “lock” the others’ lips? oh right!

Thomas seems rather tense this moment, doesn’t he? Yes I know that the room and the whole situation affected him, but it still seems rather weird to snap at a comment about his hips of all things, which makes me theorize that he gets upset at the dark sides’ presence even if he doesn’t know they’re there – as in the fact that Janus was there made him snap (unbeknownst to Thomas self)

Maybe Patton suspected Roman to be Deceit as well, so he made sure to let him know that he didn’t approve of lying, and, in addition, of Janus himself, if that was the case.

Okay this line itself is obvious foreshadowing, and that line did plant theories about “the lying side” back in the day (which turned out to be correct). But if Roman really is Janus right now, even if Thomas doesn’t know, he just said directly to his face: “I don’t like you as a side.” 

ouch

If Roman was, in fact, Janus, then it’s no wonder that he starts snapping right now! 

Cue a long rant about “this is what you really want Thomas and we both know it”, and if you listen closely, his tone is very similar to the way Janus sounded both in his “piñata” speech and when he impersonated Logan in POF (don’t remember the exact moments, but there were some lines of his that were said in a not-very-logan way). 

And then this:

First of all, look at that face! And he is pointing at Thomas similarly to how Janus does sometimes when he wants to make a point or something.

Now, let’s analyze this!

Let’s see, a long rant about what Thomas really want, and about Thomas trying to deny his wants in order to seem like a better person? Morally, he knows that the right thing to do is to move on, to leave his ex boyfriend alone. But his selfish desire real wish is to call him and to try and get him back.

He looks so smug right here. He thinks that Thomas has just admitted that he is not perfectly selfless and that he was lying to himself. Similar to Janus’ reaction when Thomas admitted to want to go to the callback, right?

(cue Thomas explaining why he doesn’t really want that)

He looks confused here, a little angry.

It took me so long to capture this exact moment, but he’s rolling his eyes here. Why would Roman roll his eyes at such a serious topic?

Here, too, he looks a little... off. And the fact that he needs to clarify his role? Does that sound like Janus “I’m Morality I Gotta Know My Stuff” Sanders? Janus “I The Brilliant Logan” Sanders? 

He literally says “I’m The Dreamy Fantasy Guy”! “Uh, guys, remember who I am supposed to impersonate, I mean, remember who I definitely am?”

(cue Thomas explaining more how he doesn’t want him back yada yada)

Here, Roman is slowly snapping out. Why here? I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe Janus realized he was about to lose, and so he left.

Here, Roman both looks and sounds very similar to when he in Can Lying Be Good said that “I feel so used!” thing, and his moments of frustration in both SvS and POF. Yeah, maybe it’s just his “mental breakdown” face, but he seems to mostly use it when Janus is present/is toying with him.

(cue Roman apologizing since he’s now himself again)

Okay, maybe this was just Patton being nice, but like I said before, maybe he knew about Janus’ influence, and he was trying to say to Roman something like “I know you were possessed and that’s not your fault” without revealing Janus’ existence to Thomas?

(skip a little)

He’s now trying to reassure that he would not let his dreams stop Thomas from being Thomas Cinnamon Roll Sanders.

now look how that turned out later on oop

He is trying to prove that although Janus would’ve wanted to jump at the first chance to fulfill Thomas’ wants, Roman wouldn’t.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting, as this also seems like something That Janus would want.

And Patton agrees.

But this post is already long and my parents want me to leave my cave to spend some time with them, so that’s for another day.

Although I want to show you this:

Patton talks a bit about repressing negative feelings, and then Thomas talks about mental health. Hmm?

You mean like selfish desires and intrusive thoughts are normal and shouldn’t be repressed? HMMMMMM?

I love this episode a lot.

You guys can feel free to add on if you want!

[exhaustedfander]

For one shot requests, could you do some touch starved Moceit fluff with romantic confessions? 🥺👉👈

Some touch starved moceit with a side of love confessions coming right up! (Also ignore the fact that I accidently posted the HTML of this first, oops)

Word Count: 2,782

Summary: Janus is severely touch-starved and yearning for Patton, yet every time they so much as brush against each other he's near a point of panic.

a03 link

'Cause Every Time We Touch, I Get This Feeling

Janus doesn’t have a problem. To say as much would be incredibly dramatic, and he is most certainly never one to give into drama. Janus isn’t struggling with anything, he’s merely… frustrated.

This whole not problem is something he doesn’t entirely know the cause of. It isn’t as though Janus hasn’t had the opportunity to partake in touch before. Having lived with Remus for years, it was not uncommon for him to be touched frequently. But more often than not, slimily tentacles sliding around his neck or Remus’s long, unkempt nails on his arm were not sensations he sought out. Even when Virgil had still been in their ranks, he hadn’t been the most touchy-feely person, so Janus wasn’t too terribly used to it.

And that’s fine! Totally, and completely fine! Janus doesn’t need anyone to touch him, he’s perfectly fine with being alone for the rest of his existence.

Except… there’s been a change of arrangements, lately. Janus hadn’t had the highest hopes going into his attempt at acceptance, and yet, somehow, he’d managed to secure a spot at the table. This hadn’t been without consequence, considering how bruised Roman’s ego had been for some time and Virgil’s continued distaste for him as well as Logan’s unspoken anger for being impersonated twice now. Sure, things were getting better with them, but that didn’t distract from the fact that Thomas is listening to him! After years of being repressed, ages of being pushed to the wayside, and seen as the villain, Janus’s opinions are being taken into account! He should be ecstatic, over the moon, jumping for joy!

He isn’t. Not with this… minimal distraction that’s been taking up the whole of his attention lately. This distraction wears round glasses and a cardigan around his shoulders. This distraction fashions friendship bracelets and has a laugh bright, and clear and a sound Janus never recalled adoring so much. This distraction is very touchy-feely person and that is proving to be quite the difficulty.

To say that Patton and Janus haven’t been on good terms in the past would be quite the understatement. As far as Janus was concerned up until very recently, he and Patton were enemies, both with a common goal of Thomas’s well-being while simultaneously working against one another. Patton’s vendetta against lying was something that, understandably, got in Janus’s way. For years, he’d considered his opposition to Patton obligation, as well as something set in stone. Patton was a nuisance in the way of his goals, and in an extension, Thomas’s goal, therefore a friendly relationship with him was simply an impossibility.

An apology from Thomas was one thing, reluctant acceptance from Virgil, Roman, and Logan was another, but what Patton had offered him – well, that just went against everything Janus thought he knew about Patton.

Janus isn't expecting Patton to apologize for all that he’d put him through, he doesn't think that Patton would feel the need to say how sincerely sorry he is for seeing him as nothing more than a dirty rotten liar. And he certainly isn’t expecting it when Patton begins to shed a tear when their alone and he’s apologizing, choking up and expressing how terrible he feels for how he’s acted.

Patton is morality, a being of goodness, of pure-hearted intentions and softness, but he is not without flaws. That’s what he’s expected himself to be, Janus realizes in that moment of tear-filled confessions and near groveling for forgiveness, all this time Patton has thought that him making a mistake of any kind is an error most foul. And despite everything that he thinks he might say, Janus expresses that it’s okay, that he understands what Patton’s been trying to do, that they’ll be able to find a middle-ground. He tells him that no one else is putting those expectations on him, that it’s far too heavy of a burden to carry.

Janus has never thought he’d be in such an intimate, strange position with Patton, and yet here he is. The issue fully rears its head when Patton throws his arms around him and Janus forgets how to breathe. It’s definitely not a problem, that would be ridiculous, it merely takes Janus aback. Very aback, to a point where he nearly dissolves into a puddle in Patton’s arms before he jerks away, leaving the room without much of an explanation.

This isn’t a problem. Why in the world would something as simple as a hug be a problem? It isn’t, Janus decides, and he strives to cast the interaction out of his mind. Unfortunately, he’s not been doing a very good job of it.

The embrace took Janus by surprise, that’s all. It’s been quite a long time since he’s had a proper hug and he’s just having a little trouble processing, nothing to worry about. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

He doesn’t get it; why did Patton’s arms around him feel so good? So insanely, overwhelmingly good? Why did the embrace punch the air out of his lungs? For so long, Janus considered his and Patton’s relationship one of opposition and opposition alone… but now… now he doesn’t know.

Okay… fine, maybe this is a little bit of a problem. Even so, surely, it’s a problem he’ll be able to manage. How much strife could such a kind, seemingly harmless person like Patton cause?

As it turns out, quite a bit. Patton isn’t harmless, not at all. He can do so much damage with the slightest graze of fingers, can topple empires as they brush against each other in the hall, can set a fire in Janus’s soul with even the simplest forms of affection. Janus doesn’t know how he’s doing it, but every time Patton so much as touches him, he loses himself a little bit more.

Maybe it’s been longer than Janus realizes since he’s had a decent hug, maybe it’s the fact that Patton gives affection so freely, so openly. Maybe it’s both of those things, but it’s tearing him up inside like so few things can. Janus looked at Patton with disdain but now he can’t help but be filled with so much warmth every time he’s near, let alone when he’s touching him.

Even after their reconciliation, Janus hadn’t been expecting everything to change between them, but now it is, and he’s lost in an abyss of feelings and sensations he doesn’t know how to make sense of. Every time Patton shoots him a dazzling smile Janus is half-convinced, he’ll be blinded, and when a hand finds its way to his shoulder, he has to excuse himself and leave the room.

Surely, Patton knows something’s the matter. He’d be a fool not to realize the way that Janus has been keeping his distance, wary and afraid. Janus has always taken good care of himself; being an ambassador of self-care, it would be strange if he didn't. But lately, he’s been holding himself up in his room, hiding from the others, fearing what they might think if they realized how undone he becomes every time Patton is near. Perhaps the already see it, the glint of fear in his eyes, the tremor to his movements if Patton edges too close. And even though he hasn’t said anything, he’s noticed Patton keeping his distance, too, in the rare moments that they’re in the same room. He’s hesitating, and Janus doesn’t know how to tell him that isn’t what he wants, either.

But what does he want?

Janus’s jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a knock at his door. Well, shit.

“Janus? Kiddo?” Janus flinches at the sound of the voice. “Are you okay? You didn’t come down for dinner.”

“I’m fine,” Janus lies, exceptionally poorly for the supposed “Lord of the lies”, “I’ll get something to eat later.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the door and for a moment, Janus wonders if he’s left him before Patton speaks up again, concern etched into his tone.

“I brought you a plate,” he says, “Could I come inside and bring it to you?” Janus’s instinct is to respond with a stern “no,” but doing so is liable to make things all the worse. Worrying his bottom lip, Janus lets out a sigh.

“Sure.” The doorknob turns slowly, revealing a rather anxious looking Patton holding a plate of pasta.

“Thank you, Patton,” Janus says as graciously as he can manage as the food is handed to him, “This wasn’t thoughtful of you at all.” Janus knows that such a simple lie might’ve given Patton the wrong impression not long ago, and yet here he is, smiling understandingly and so damn kind.

“Would you mind if I sit with you for a while?” Patton asks, trying and failing to hide the hesitation in his voice. It makes sense; Janus has been so distant lately, and after Patton’s been offering his friendship so carefully, too.

That’s part of the problem, Janus thinks to himself, realization finally sinking in. Patton had never thought friendship with the light side would be possible, but now he wants more than that. More than he ever thought he could desire, especially from the likes of morality. He wants far more than he’ll be given.

Patton’s asked to sit with him, and once again, Janus wants to tell him to leave, but he just can’t bear it. Not with those wide, worried eyes. He can’t wallow in self-pity, not when Patton’s been doing everything he can to be welcoming and warm.

“No,” Janus says, hoping foolishly that he doesn’t sound as much of a mess as he feels, “I suppose not.”

Patton looks relieved at the response and sits beside Janus on the bed. The silence that blankets them hangs thick and uncomfortable. Janus eats his food, knowing Patton’s eyes continue to land on him before settling back on the wall. When he’s finished, he sets the plate aside and thanks Patton again for being so thoughtful.

He thinks, perhaps, that will be the extent of the interaction. Patton was worried that he hadn’t eaten a decent meal and made sure he did so, that’s all. But he lingers, still sitting beside him, eyes darting around, and Janus’s heart is suffering terrible abuse in his presence.

“Jan –,” he begins, reaching a tentative hand out and settling it on Janus’s shoulder. Janus flinches as though Patton’s caress burns, the most violent of his reactions thus far. Patton retracts his hand quickly, wringing his hands as he scoots further away, giving Janus a good deal of distance.

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, softly and apologetically, “I shouldn’t of… I mean, I know you don’t like it when I touch you. I’m sorry… I just wasn’t thinking.” Janus squeezes his eyes shut, warmth blooming where Patton’s fingers grazed his shoulder. It’s too much to handle, too intense, too good.

“I… I do like it,” Janus rasps out, despite his better judgment. His eyes aren’t open to see the look of surprise that spreads across Patton’s face.

“What? But… you’ve been so distant lately. I get it…” Patton laughs, but there’s no humor to the sound, “We haven’t always been on the best of terms. A lot of that’s my fault. But then, it felt like things were changing between us. And I liked it,” Patton says, before correcting himself, “I still like it. You’ve just… been pushing away, lately. And I didn’t know how to ask, I mean – did I do something wrong?”

There’s so much fear behind the question, a query that’s clearly been building up for some time now. Janus dares to peel open his eyes, only to be greeted with the heart-wrenching sight of Patton looking so worried for him, so scared that he’s messed up yet again.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Janus manages to get the words out, though not without a fight, “I – I apologize, that I’ve made you feel as though you have any reason to think you’ve upset me.” Janus sucks in a breath, wondering when he ever got to be so damned sentimental, “I admit, I have been distant. It’s just…”

“What is it?” Patton asks, compassion dripping into every word. Janus hadn’t known what he’d been missing all those years without Patton, without so much unabashed kindness and love.

“I’m not used to… being touched, I suppose,” Janus admits, ducking his head against his shoulder in embarrassment. It’s been such a long time since Janus has felt such heightened levels of negative emotions and he’s not a fan at all.

“Oh,” Patton says, hesitantly, “I’m sorry, should I – have I been overwhelming you?”

“I…” Janus falters, still not daring to face Patton, “I’m not used to it. But it’s… pleasant.” Patton pauses before realization dawns.

“Oh. Oh, sweetie, how long has it been since you’ve had a proper hug?”

Patton calling him something as soft as “sweetie” of all things makes his chest ache. In all of their recent embraces, Janus has always pulled away after a second or two, fearing what might happen if he just let’s go. But Patton’s asking, so genuinely, and Janus is too helpless not to give in.

“I… I don’t know,” he says softly.

“Would it be okay if I hugged you now?”

Janus looks down at the comforter, nodding slowly.

“Yes… I think that would be okay.”

As gently as possible, Patton puts his arms around him. Janus stiffens, his breath halting, but Patton’s holding him lose enough that it wouldn’t be hard to pull away. After a few moments, Janus realizes he couldn’t pull back if he wanted to. He throws his arms around the moral side, burying his face in his neck. He can feel himself beginning to tremble.

“Jan? Honey, is this okay?”

“Yesss,” the hiss slips past before he has time to correct it, “Please, hold me a little longer?” Janus despises the desperation that seeps into his tone. He never thought he’d stoop so low.

“Of course,” Patton says softly, “I won’t let you go. I promise."

Janus clings fervently to Patton, any final hesitations leaving him. He didn’t know being held could feel so good, but now he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to let go. Patton begins to rub circles into Janus’s back, slow and even. Bit by bit, the tension that Janus has been holding inside of himself these past weeks disperses.

“Janus?” Janus hums in lieu of a real response. “Can you look at me for a second?” As much as he despises the idea of leaving the comfort of Patton’s arms for even a moment, he does so, pulling away so that their eyes meet.

“I… I think there’s something I should tell you,” Patton says.

“What is it?” Janus asks, feeling his heart clench in his chest. Patton reaches for his hand, and even through the glove, the touch sends electricity running through him.

“I –,” Patton hesitates before taking a deep breath and biting the bullet, “I like you. I like you a whole heck of a lot, actually. And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable – and I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way. I just thought you should know.” Patton rushes the confession out.

Janus hadn’t been expecting this, not at all. But it’s happening, every time Patton touches him Janus feels like a fire’s been lit in his heart and now Patton’s telling him that he has feelings for him. Janus has been torturing himself, keeping space between them in the fear that Janus might melt into his embrace and it was for nothing. Janus doesn’t know if he should be irritated with himself or relieved, so he settles for both.

“I like you too, Pat,” Janus says, the confession raw and unbearably honest, “M-more than I’ve been willing to admit.”

Janus feels himself beginning to shudder again as Patton lets go of his hand, only to cup his face with both hands, his thumb tracing lightly over Janus’s scales.

“Can I kiss you?” Patton asks, so tenderly Janus is half-convinced he’s going to lose consciousness from how overstimulated he is.

Even so, he nods, smiling as Patton’s lips meet his. Patton keeps a steady hold on his face as Janus's hands settle on Patton’s hips. It’s so much, it’s intense and it’s nothing Janus is used to but that doesn’t distract from the fact that it’s incredible. Patton’s lips against his, his hands cupping his face. Each caress stirs something in him, each kiss sets his heart aflame, a fire he hopes never dies.

Janus rides the wave of intense emotions, growing to accept every touch, longing for it rather than shrinking away.

=+=

[primatechnosynthpop]

Ok so the idea is in my mind now thanks to what my classmates were posting about on the myinfo discussion boards earlier, and I know that nobody here cares about this, but I need to gather my thoughts here. So here's an outline for what I think would happen in a Da Vinci Code/ Black Echo crossover

It starts with Langdon being involved in a high-profile documentary about the grail and the priory that's being filmed in Hollywood. Then a bunch of people involved in the documentary start being murdered, and Bosch is assigned to the case

They meet at the crime scene for one of the murders; Langdon is shaken up because the people working on the documentary with him were people he'd worked with before and gotten along with, and he's trying not to show how shaken he is and play himself off as cool, but Bosch sees right through him and recognizes his distraught emotional state. He's sympathetic, but he does have a job to do here... it's time to ask this guy some questions

HB: Professor Langdon, right? I'm officer Bosch. I have a few questions for you.

RL: Bosch... that's an interesting name

HB: Like the painter, yes. You wouldn't be the first to point it out, believe me.

RL: I've done many lectures on the religious symbolism in that man's paintings. Tell me, officer, how familiar with his work are you?

HB: Not very. Now, Mr. Langdon--

RL: You can call me Robert if you want.

HB: ...Mr. Langdon, what kind of relationship did you have with the victim?

...You get the picture; they don't get along very well at first. Bosch thinks Langdon is too self-obsessed and show-offy, while Langdon thinks Bosch is too grim and doesn't approve of his smoking habit

But since Bosch is a devoted and hardworking detective, he puts aside his mild annoyance with Langdon and does his best to solve the case. Problem is, Langdon clearly knows something about the case that he's refusing to tell anyone. *sonic voice* That's no good!

Bosch confronts Langdon about this in private, very angry... maybe cue a wall slam except that Bosch is shorter than Langdon so it does maybe look just a little bit silly. But more importantly a little bit homoerotic in an angry and repressed kinda way

After a bit of arguing and a very thorough check of the room they're in to make sure nobody is watching or listening in, Langdon confides to Bosch about the Grail and his experiences with it

Bosch is skeptical, but he's no stranger to tangled webs of dark secrets, so his reaction to all this is less "wow!!" and more "shit. Really? Fuck. Okay... huh. I need a drink." So Langdon pours him a drink, they agree to team up to collaborate on solving the case, and this is bonding moment #1 in which their barriers start to crack just a little bit

But of course Bosch, a decent guy at heart who cares about people's lives, isn't gonna let some random symbologist get too wrapped up in what's clearly a dangerous case. So after he and Langdon figure out together where the killer might be hiding out, Bosch goes to the location alone--armed and ready, but alone nonetheless

It goes bad!

Meanwhile, Langdon figures out by talking to some of the other cops where Bosch has taken off to. He gets there just in time to see the cloud of dust as the killer gets away, leaving a badly injured Bosch lying on the ground. Probably in some dark alleyway or dingy apartment or something idk. Very dark and very dramatic

Shifting in and out of consciousness in the backseat as Langdon drives him to a hospital, Bosch starts having a PTSD flashback nightmare. There's nothing Langdon can really do to help him out there, and he feels bad about it

Flash forward a couple days. We get bonding moment #2 as Langdon scolds a recovering Bosch for being so reckless

RL: I mean, you could have been killed!

HB: That's part of my job. Always has been.

RL: But still--

HB: I'm not like you, remember? You may have gotten involved in some dangerous situations before, but at the end of the day, you're still a civilian. It's my job to protect you.

RL: How would you dying help us get to the bottom of this case? If you want to help me, then stay alive and work with me.

HB: Fine. So, did you just come here to yell at me?

RL: Actually, that's not the only reason. I figured something out about the case... something that I think can help us

(This probably wouldn't be the exact dialogue but you get the gist)

Also Langdon sees Bosch's tattoo and if he asks about it then Bosch definitely does not answer. But when he gets home Langdon researches rat imagery and symbolism and eventually figures out, if not the connection to the war, at least that this dude has probably been through some tough times

They also each individually make the realization that Bosch having a rat tattoo + Langdon having a mickey mouse wristwatch is kind of an interesting coincidence... but when Langdon brings it up Bosch gets kinda snappy with him because, believe me, it's really not even remotely close to the same thing

So they get back to work on the case, but as soon as Bosch is back on his feet he retreats back into his shell, which disheartens Langdon somewhat for reasons that he can't pinpoint. (Hint: it's that Langdon was beginning to recognize the soft heart buried beneath Bosch's rough exterior, and guess that he must have had a pretty rough life, and on some subconscious level he was beginning to drift toward the "I can fix him!" mentality)

Still, they've got a job to do. They spend a few days, maybe a week tracking down the killer, during which we get a couple more small bonding moments during which Bosch demonstrates his kind and caring side, and Langdon starts spending maybe a little longer than necessary staring at him when he's not looking. Bosch wonders when he stopped finding Langdon's tendency for sharing information annoying and started to like the sound of his voice. But neither of them are at a stage where they're gonna be like "so basically I have ptsd and claustrophobia because of my traumatic backstory" or anything

At some point, though (maybe when he's slightly drunk) Bosch makes a gruff remark in passing about having been betrayed before, and Langdon replies that he's been betrayed too, by a close friend. They kind of raise their eyebrows at each other, an unspoken realization that they're connected by more bonds than expected, and they clink their glasses together

So the killer's hideout involves crawling through a small enclosed space and they both know this in advance and the plan they come up with is "one of us goes in while the other waits outside and stands guard" (the way the killer's lair is set up would make this a good plan. I'm not gonna come up with all the details right now, because if I could do that, then I'd become a mystery novelist) but they haven't laid out who'll be going in the small enclosed space and they're both secretly counting on the other doing it

Then they get there and it's like. Hmm. Oops! Neither of them want to go in because they both have the same psychological issues

An argument ensues, but they're less trying to convince each other to go in the small enclosed space and more frustrated at the other for keeping secrets. Eventually Langdon agrees to be the one to go in because by now he's pieced together that Bosch is a vet and that his trauma is therefore probably a lot "worse" (not that those things are really quantifiable)

Bosch is super grateful but also feels terrible, like it's his fault for being too weak, and promises Langdon to make it up for him later--"So be sure to stay alive for me, okay, Robert?"

RL: Wait, did you just call me by my first name? I think that's the first time I've heard you say it.

HB: Hey, what can I say? You've grown on me.

RL: Heh. You... you've grown on me, too, Harry.

HB: Robert..... good luck in there.

They sort of smile and nod at each other, solemn and melancholy (and repressed). And then Langdon goes in and does the thing but of course it's some kind of a trap and he gets stuck in the small enclosed space and Bosch hears him getting attacked in there and hey, Bosch can't magically overcome his severe war trauma but in that moment his brain just kinda turns off and he's able to power through it long enough to go in and get Langdon out safely

They're both very shaken from all this but now they've got the killer out in the open so it's time for the final showdown. Working together, they elaborately lure the killer into confessing to the murders of the people working on the Grail documentary... those people knew too much, they couldn't be allowed to keep living. Naturally, Bosch is wearing a wire that's picking all this up and recording it

But then the killer finishes with "and you, the symbologist who knows the true location of the Grail... you can't be allowed to live either!" and before either of them can react he shoots Langdon! This makes Bosch extremely angry and he immediately shoots the killer like five consecutive times in the chest

Turns out Langdon's alive, the bullet just missed his heart or lungs or whatever, and he's lying on the ground in shock from getting shot staring up at Bosch and is like "...you killed him...?"

HB: Oh, right, I almost forgot... you've never killed someone before, have you?

RL: No, although I've been acquainted with more murders than I would like...

HB: Well, here's one more murderer you're acquainted with, then. Come on, let's go

Hospital time redux ft. congratulating each other on solving the case and a whole lot going unsaid between them. They both agree that they ended up making a decent team in the end...

In a quiet moment when he thinks Langdon is asleep, Bosch starts reminiscing out loud about his childhood, his time in the war, all the blood he's seen spilled and spilled himself both as a veteran and a detective. Of course Langdon was actually awake to hear all that, and after a long moment of silence he starts talking quietly about falling down a well as a child, as well as some of the scarier moments in his past adventures and how those have messed him up a little

RL: Of course, what I've been through is nothing compared to you... I mean, you, you're amazing. I can't believe I ever judged you for having a cold exterior.

HB: I wouldn't call myself amazing. More like, a poor bastard doing his best to keep his head afloat.

RL: No, no, that's... that's why you're amazing. The fact that you are where you are now.

HB: What, in a hospital at the bedside of a symbology professor who's lucky to be alive after solving an elaborate murder case?

RL: Hey, it's not my first rodeo.

HB: Mine neither. (Heh...) maybe we should start a club.

At the end they say goodbye to each other and they like shake hands or something but they're still repressed so they just go their separate ways and don't see each other again

But MAYBE a few months or years down the line Bosch eventually leaves the police force (either because he wisens up and realizes that acab, or because he acts up too much and gets fired) and can no longer afford to live in LA so he moves to a different part of the country and by pure coincidence it ends up being where Langdon lives. And he finds out when he sees an ad for one of Langdon's lectures, and he attends and Langdon spots him in the crowd and he sort of visibly stiffens and then softens. You can figure out where things go from there

(I actually don't know where exactly things would go from there but maybe, someday, eventually they kiss?)

[thelazyhermits]

The fifteenth drabble covers prompt #17 - a hug where one muse stops the other from collapsing. This ended up becoming longer than I planned. Oops lol I hope y’all enjoy it! ^-^

Today is not your day. 

Once again, you encounter a villain attack while off campus. This time, instead of a shopping trip, you’re out with the Big Three because you were all planning on visiting Hadou’s favorite tea shop together.

Naturally, those plans go awry when your group stumbles upon a bank robbery in progress. Once they realize what’s going on, the third years all take action. 

The only upside of this situation is the fact that Togata actually chose to wear his hero costume underneath his regular clothes today. After hearing about how often your trips off campus go wrong, the blond decided he should be prepared just in case. As a result, none of the citizens will have to worry about seeing a naked Lemillion today. 

While the Big Three goes after the villains, you do your best to help the citizens evacuate. After a few minutes of this, your Quirk activates, showing you a worrisome vision.

In it, you see a tall, muscular woman with short orange hair around your age, possibly a few years older, attacking you, claiming her time for vengeance has come. At first, you’re confused, but then, some of your repressed memories resurface from the depths of your mind, providing some much needed clarity. 

She was an underground fighter who started her career as a child like you. Her stage name was Drain because her Quirk allowed her to drain the energy of anyone she touched with her hands. 

Drain was actually the top child fighter before you came along. Naturally, that changed after you defeated her. 

Apparently, Drain has held a grudge against you ever since you beat her since she was never able to regain her popularity after that match. She especially hated that you won when she was the more skilled fighter--which she was.

The only reason you were able to defeat her is because your Quirk allowed you to predict her movements and because you had way more stamina than her. No matter how much energy she drained from you, you kept fighting until she was too worn out to continue which, now that you think about, was pretty ironic. 

You were lucky that her Quirk only allows her to drain energy and not reuse it for herself. Otherwise, that fight would’ve ended a whole lot differently. 

Before your vision ends, Drain explains that she’s been watching you for some time now, waiting for the right moment to strike. She knew she wouldn’t be able to accomplish her goal as long as you had heroes protecting you, so she waited for the moment when you finally went somewhere alone. 

As soon as your Quirk deactivates, you take off into a sprint, knowing you have a limited amount of time before the events of your vision happen. In your vision, Drain was willing to attack anyone who got in her way, so you need to find an area free of civilians. 

After all, the last thing you want it for someone to get caught in the crossfire. As you’re running, you quickly pull out your gloves and put them on in preparation for the fight that’s to come.

A few minutes later, just as you run into a nearby, empty parking lot, you hear a familiar voice which makes you come to an abrupt halt. “Not so fast, Prophet! I won’t allow this perfect opportunity to go to waste! I will have my revenge!”

Immediately, you turn toward the owner of the familiar voice and see Drain running toward you. A scowl appears on your face as you activate your Quirk. “Get over it already! That was over ten years ago! I didn’t even want to be in that fight!”

An onslaught of punches and kicks are aimed at you as soon as she’s within reach. Thankfully, you’re able to dodge and block all of them thanks to your Quirk. 

Unfortunately, you’re unable to do anything about the effects of her Quirk. Every time her hands make contact with your skin, you feel some of your energy get drained. 

That’s one of the reasons why you put on the gloves, hoping the material would protect you from her Quirk since she needs skin-on-skin contact for it to work. Unfortunately, despite your best efforts to avoid it, she still manages to make contact with your skin, and to your dismay, you discover that her Quirk has gotten stronger since she was a kid, allowing her to drain even more energy each time her hands make contact with you.

She cackles, “I’m much stronger than I was before! I trained for all those years so I’d be ready for our rematch!”

A large smirk appears on her face. “You thought you could escape by running away from the underworld, but you were wrong. I was determined to get my revenge even if it meant having to hunt you down.”

You sigh as you move to wipe the sweat off your forehead. “A revenge obsessed stalker. Great. My luck can’t get much better than this.”

Now, you’re really regretting the fact that you went out today without restocking your supplies. If you had your sleeping gas bombs, this fight would’ve already been finished by now.

Although, to be honest, you prefer the idea of taking Drain out with your own strength rather than resorting to using sleeping gas. This just feels like a fight you need to resolve with just your fists. 

An annoyed scowl appears on your face immediately after you think that. Oh great. Now, you’re starting to sound like Rappa. You always knew he was a horrible influence.

Drain lunges forward with a yell, and with that, the fight resumes. Minutes fly by as the two of you exchange blow after blow, with your vitality steadily decreasing as time progresses. 

It gets progressively harder to dodge her attacks, resulting in you taking hits you’d normally be able to avoid, and you know your punches are getting weaker with each passing second. 

However, you refuse to back down. No matter how much of your energy she drains, you won’t stop fighting until you emerge as the victor. You will not let her win. 

Noticing this, Drain scowls, “You’re like a damn cockroach! Just surrender already, Prophet! It’s clear who the superior fighter is between us!”

At that moment, your Quirk reveals that the moment you’ve been waiting for has finally come. Because of her mounting frustration, the orange haired woman starts to get careless, resulting in you finally finding an opening which you’ve been looking for since the fight started. 

When she aims another punch at you, putting more force behind it than she should, you parry it which causes her to lose her balance. Before she can regain her footing, you rear your fist back and aim a punch for your opponent’s face, hitting her with enough force to knock her flat on her back. 

Once again, you find yourself mentally thanking Hastume for your gloves. If it weren’t for them, there’s no way you would’ve had enough power behind your punches to cause any damage because you’re so exhausted now. It took everything you had just to swing your fist at her for that last punch. 

Chest heaving from exertion, you deactivate your Quirk and immediately wince when your head begins to throb and the sunlight reaches your now sensitive eyes. You can’t say you’re too surprised about the pain of your headache considering how long you’ve been using your Quirk. You’re just glad you didn’t use it long enough to invoke a seizure.

Squinting, you direct your gaze toward Drain who appears to be unconscious thanks to the combination of your punch and her head hitting the hard concrete. Good. You’re completely spent thanks to her Quirk. If she was still able to fight, you would’ve been in trouble since you’re just barely able to stand right now.

Of course, as soon as you think that, your knees buckle, causing you to plummet toward the ground. As you brace yourself for the fall, you hear familiar voices calling out your name.

“Y/N-sensei!”

“Cryptid-sensei!”

Seconds later, a pair of arms catches you, preventing you from hitting the ground. When you look to see who the arms belong to, you see Togata frowning worriedly. “Sensei, are you alright? You look exhausted!”

Hadou quickly appears at your other side and brings her face close to yours. “What happened, Cryptid-sensei? Did you get in a fight? Was it with that lady over there? Who is she? Do you know her?”

As she peppers you with questions, all you can do is watch the blue haired girl with amused eyes. While this is happening, Amajiki comes to stand beside Togata, who’s still holding you in his arms.

The shorter boy dons a concerned frown when he sees your worn out appearance. “We should find an ambulance and get you checked out. Can you walk?”

You shake your head. “My opponent’s Quirk allows her to drain the energy of whoever she touches, so I’m totally spent. I’m too exhausted to do anything, including walking. You don’t need to get me an ambulance, though. What I really need is a nap.”

Togata grins, “In that case, how about you climb onto my back? I’ll carry you back to school, and we can just have Recovery Girl examine you.”

The corners of your lips curve upwards. “Sounds good to me. I take it the villains from the bank robbery have already been arrested?”

While Amajiki and Hadou help brace you, Togata crouches down in front of you, so you can climb onto his back. As this is happening, he replies, “Yep! We’ll pass the police on the way out and tell them about the lady you fought too. Was she a friend of the robbers?”

A groan passes your lips when you think of Drain. “I wish. She’s actually my revenge obsessed stalker.”

While Amajiki stares at you with wide eyes, Hadou tilts her head. “Was she stalking you for revenge? What did she want revenge for?”

You close your eyes as you rest your forehead against Togata’s back. “I beat her in a fight a while back, and she’s been wanting revenge ever since. Apparently, she’s been looking for me for awhile.”

Since you’ve never explained your past to Hadou, she’s the only one who doesn’t understand the hidden meaning behind your words. Amajiki and Togata, however, quickly realize what kind of situation you were in when you first met Drain. The blond tightens his grip on you in response to your words while a deep frown appears on his best friend’s face.

Thankfully, Hadou doesn’t get the chance to probe further about Drain since that’s when Tsukauchi and a few other officers arrive on the scene. Fortunately for you, Togata and Hadou quickly explain the situation to the police, so you don’t have to. 

For a brief moment, Tsukauchi meets your gaze, and when you see the hidden question in his eyes, you slowly nod your head, realizing he wants to know if Drain is somehow connected to your past. After you do that, he asks the other officers to apprehend the orange haired woman. 

No doubt he’ll have more questions for you later, but since he can tell how exhausted you are, the police detective allows the three of you to return to school. He even kindly offers a police car to give you all a ride home. 

After helping you into the back seat of the car, Togata chooses to sit up front with the police officer who’s driving and begins cheerfully chatting with him. Meanwhile, Hadou and Amajiki join you in the backseat and sit on either side of you.

While you do your best to remain awake, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you is just too strong to resist. After a few minutes of futile struggling, your eyes fall shut, and you finally give in to sleep’s enticing pull.

The last thing that registers in your tired mind is Amajiki making a startled sound after your head falls onto his shoulder. After that, sleep claims you, and you enter a deep, peaceful slumber.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Operation Count Chocula

A/N: Idek what this is... you can thank @somefeministtheatrepls for this, based on this post. I changed it up a little! Gets a little cracky and I have no regrets

~2.5k words

Rated T for one (1) mildly dirty joke

Read on AO3

XXX

If someone had asked Blaine his senior year of high school whether he was going to be an active member of Greek life during college, he would have laughed in surprise and told them a solid no. His first year in college proved that his stance wasn’t as firm as he’d initially thought. 

Quinn had been the one to recruit him into Nu Beta Kappa. She was in his Reading in Short Story and Drama class, and after working on their final project together, she convinced him to rush NBK. She had pointed out that Greek life wasn’t all about parties and hazing, and that NBK focused on serving the community and striving for social equality. 

Currently, he was in his Junior year of college and in the chip aisle of the local Walmart, standing next to his Big Sister, the aforementioned Quinn Fabray. 

“I hate shopping for the house,” she lamented. “There are better things I could be doing with my life at three AM on a Friday night.”

“Isn’t it technically Saturday, then?” Blaine pointed out. 

“Aren’t Vice Presidents supposed to support their Presidents?”

He mocked a salute at her. “Nothing but respect for my President, madam Fabray.”

Blaine suddenly whipped his head around when he heard Santana, their Sergeant at Arms, cry out from the next aisle down. “You can have this box of Count Chocula when it falls from my cold, dead, hands, Gromit!”

He and Quinn exchanged concerned looks before sprinting down to find Santana. When they found her, Puck and Brittany, two more Nu Beta Kappa sisters, had shown up in support and were standing behind her. Santana had a death grip on the family size box of cereal, but so did the unusually tall boy standing across from her. 

Blaine recognized him as Finn Hudson, the treasurer for Omicron Sigma, Nu Beta Kappa’s “masculine” counterpart. They had the same values as NBK, but NBK had been started by female students who were not allowed to rush OS in the 1940s. In the end, both organizations eventually became co-Ed (all members of OS were “brothers” regardless of gender, and likewise, all members of NBK were “sisters”). However, they never did quite seem to overcome that bad blood between them.

There were four more members of OS standing behind Finn. A blond haired guy with a large mouth, a dark skinned girl with curly hair and a stylish beret, a short girl with bangs, and...

Blaine made a sharp intake of breath because standing next to the girl with beret was the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen. He was wearing a grey hoodie with Property of ΟΣ printed in athletic font in the front, on top of checkered pajama pants. His hair, though disheveled from an obvious lack of sleep, was still light and had bounce to it. His eyes crystal blue eyes were half lidded, and seemed sunken in with drowsiness. 

Blaine thought he looked fantastic.

“This cereal is for my girlfriend!” Finn exclaimed, tugging the box closer to his chest. 

“Yeah, well this cereal is for my girlfriend!” Santana snapped back, tugging it closer to her chest in return.

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what to do next. He turned his head back to nameless hot guy, still clutching the box. “Wait, Kurt, do I have to give it to her because of like, gay rights?”

The boy—Kurt, apparently—pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “You don’t have to, but you should so we can go the fuck home.”

“No,” Finn grunted. “This is a matter of pride now. I clearly had the box first. I’m not going to let Nu Beta Kappa just take anything they want. Again.”

Uh oh. Last semester, Omicron Sigma and Nu Beta Kappa had both been planning an end of the banquet for members and tried to get the same venue for the day after finals ended. Santana had been president at the time and finessed her way onto the Cherry Tea Tree room’s schedule. Clearly, certain members of Omicron Sigma took it personally.

“Well, all we wanted was equal rights some seventy odd years ago, so I think things even out!” Santana said.

“Lord Tubbington owes a lot of money and he needs the Count Chocula to cope,” Brittany said in a panic.

From across the aisle, Blaine saw Kurt’s cheeks redden at the spectacle and wondered if the heat rising to his own face was now visible. He loved his friends, but god, were they extra as hell. He and Kurt exchanged glances that were equal parts amusement and horror. 

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it,” Santana challenged. 

Finn burst out into uproarious laughter. “You’re like, half my height. I think I can take you.”

“Then come on,” she sniped. “Put your Count Chocula where your mouth is!”

Kurt’s jaw dropped and he looked over to Blaine, gesturing to Finn as if to say Can you believe them?

Blaine nodded along and raised his eyebrows as if to say, I know, right? He was glad to see his gesture gain a smile from Kurt. He would have stayed the rest of the time staring at Kurt if Santana and Finn’s match hadn’t been so distracting.

When Blaine looked back towards them, they had their elbows on the empty cereal shelf, hands fastened in a deadlock against the others.

Finn pressed his arm down against Santana’s. 

Three of the four of Finn’s fraternity brothers cheered him on behind him. Likewise, Quinn, Puck, and Brittany all egged Santana on. Their collective shouts of growing excitement was a stark contrast to the silence in the rest of the store. Blaine was honestly surprised a manager hadn’t come to usher them out yet. But, he supposed, it was a college town. There are weirder things that happen in a grocery store at three AM.

It seemed like Santana was about to lose, but she must have tapped into strength that came from repressed rage and in a quick surge, pinned Finn’s arm against the metal. 

He looked at her, aghast by the outcome of the match. 

“Oh thank god, can we go home now?” Kurt asked. 

“Absolutely not!” Rachel screeched. 

Kurt groaned and threw his head back in frustration before letting it fall against the cart. He lifted his head up and mouthed to Blaine, They’re insane.

Blaine let out a chuckle and pointed to his friends, who were now exchanging obnoxiously celebratory high-fives with their champion. I know, he mouthed back. Them, too.

The short brunette stepped forward and hiked up the long sleeve of her blouse. “Let’s go, Satan.”

“Rachel, there is no way you can take her,” Kurt mumbled. 

“Just watch me.”

“You’re on, hobbit,” Santana growled.

If the first match had been short, this one had gone by at lightning speed. Blaine actually flinched when Rachel’s arm slammed against the metal. 

“No fair!” She cried. “I just... wasn’t ready, that’s all!”

Blaine stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes, making sure that Kurt could see him. Kurt returned the smile and shook his head. “Come on, guys.” Kurt said. “She won fair and square.”

Rachel pouted and crossed her arms before turning away and heading off into the other direction. 

“You know what,” the girl with the beret said. “We’ll see you next week.”

“We look forward to it, Mercedes!” Quinn huffed. Blaine gave her a condescending glance before rolling his eyes and leading the way to the front of the store.

Try as he might, Blaine couldn’t get the goofy smile off his face every time he imagined the interaction he just had with Kurt. Yes, it hadn’t seemed like much, and they hadn’t even spoken a verbal word to each other, and yet Blaine still found himself wondering if he should try and find the Omicron Sigma group before they left to try and get Kurt’s number.

“Hey Blaine,” Puck said, snapping him back to reality. “The water bottles are right there,” he said, pointing to a nearby stack.

“Huh?”

“The water bottles,” Puck repeated, stone faced as if Blaine should know exactly what he meant. “To quench your thirst for porcelain back there.”

He scoffed. “Shut up,” he grumbled, feeling his face warm. Blaine eventually decided against going to find Kurt right now, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from his friends. 

If it was meant to be, they’d cross paths again.

XXX

Noah Puckerman invited you and six others to join the secret messenger chat: Operation Count Chocula

Santana: What the hell is this, Puck?

Rachel: Who put me in a group chat with the devil herself?

Quinn: I’m with them on this one. Explain yourself, Noah.

Finn: Why am I in a group chat filled with NBKs!?!?

Puck: Listen here cumslut, we don’t want to mingle with you just as much as you don’t want to mingle with us. But it’s time we set aside our differences for a greater purpose. 

Mercedes: What the hell is he talking about?

Puck: True love.

Quinn: Oh dear god what the fuck

Sam: Is this about how Kurt and Blaine are clearly in love?

Brittany: Yeah, I picked up on that, too.

Puck: Yes! They left without each other’s numbers.

Finn: And why should we help you?

Puck: You wouldn’t be helping *me* you’d be helping them.

Puck: Besides, if we don’t do this, then we’ll probably have to endure like weeks of them stalking each other on Facebook, running into each other on campus and being too shy to make a move and then one of them will get a boyfriend because they think the other isn’t interested and it’ll all go to shit just TRUST ME

Quinn: That was a very… thorough… explanation.

Satan: WHO CHANGED MY NICKNAME TO THIS?

Benz: Finn, change her name back.

Benz: Wait a hot damn second. 

RyanSeacrestFan101: Lay off, I got that tattoo when I was 18!

Bottle Blond: MY HAIR IS NATURAL

Disaster Hair: Hey, my mohawk is iconic!

Yentl: First off, I am honored to share a name that Barbra once used on the stage. Secondly, whoever’s doing this, KNOCK IT OFF

Finn: I changed Santana’s name… I’ll change it back

Santana: Oh, my bad. I changed Mercedes’s name because I thought she changed mine.

Mercedes: Oops… I changed Quinn’s. 

Quinn: Alright, I changed Sam’s. 

Sam: I got pucks…

Puck: And I plead the fifth.

Puck: Can we get back to business please?

Rachel: Sure… what did you have in mind?

XXX

One Week Later

Quinn: This the dumbest plan ever

Liked by everyone in the group

Sam: So dumb, it just might work

Liked by everyone in the group

XXX

Kurt was one aisle over when he heard his brother call out an all too familiar phrase.

“Oh no! It’s the last box of Count Chocula, and someone has grabbed it!”

He rolled his eyes and trudged to the next aisle down. His mood instantly became brighter when he saw the NBK sisters from last week, Blaine in their midsts. He smiled and waved, a gesture that Blaine happily returned.

“So…” Kurt started when nobody had said anything after a few moments. “Finn, are you going to arm wrestle her for it, or are you going to finally swallow your pride?”

“Well, uh, you and Blaine have to fight for it.” He sputtered out quickly.

“What!?” Blaine cries out from the other side of the aisle. “Why?”

“Because I can’t,” Santana said quickly. Blaine looked at her with confusion. It wasn’t like her to turn down a competition. She noticed his suspicion and added, “I uh, pulled my arm muscle.”

“Doing what?” Blaine asked.

She shrugged. “Brittany.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“So in my place,” she continued, shoving Blaine forward. “I choose, our valiant Vice President, who is just always so willing to help a sister out.”

“Yeah!” Finn started awkwardly. “And-and I can’t do it because I have a… paper cut?”

“A paper cut?” Kurt asked, his suspicion rising. He folded his arms across his chest. “You got a paper cut?”

“It was cardstock.” Finn explained. “Besides, you’re my brother, I need you to have my back on this.”

Kurt gaped at him. “I cannot believe you pulled the brother card in something as stupid as this.”

Finn beamed and pushed Kurt towards Blaine. “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Kurt walked up and met Blaine. “They’re insane…” his judgemental expression softened into one of fondness. “I missed you, by the way.”

“I missed you, too.” Blaine returned his smile. “But right now, I’m representing NBK and I’ve kinda been chosen to smack you down like the hand of god.”

“Oh, really?” Kurt raised his eyebrows, and gave Blaine a crooked grin. “You’ll regret that. I was going to suggest we just fake a tie, but it’ll be a lot more fun just winning.”

“Do you really think you can take me?” Blaine asked cheekily, placing his arm on the metal shelf. 

“I’m stronger than I look,” Kurt teased back, clasping Blaine’s hand in his. “After all, I did have you pinned down in the back seat of my car for the better part of an hour.”

Blaine sputtered at the memory and he lost his concentration, causing Kurt to gain the lead in the match. He smiled slyly. This was going to be an easy match.

“That’s cheating!” Blaine cried.

“No,” Kurt said. “That’s using my assets.”

“I don’t need to be reminded of your assets they’re very memorable.”

“When can I see you again?” Kurt asked, relaxing his grip just a bit and feeling Blaine reciprocate.

“Is this not our second date?” Blaine teased. “Breadstix was nice, but three AM at a Walmart is just so much classier.”

“You should see my bedroom at three AM.”

“What?” Blaine lost his concentration and in his moment of distraction, Kurt pressed his arm all the way down to the metal.

“Pinned ya.” Kurt grinned, leaning in closer to Blaine.

Kurt’s eyes were magnets, drawing Blaine in closer and closer. “You, Kurt Hummel, can pin me anytime you want,” he giggled.

Puck cupped his hands together around his mouth like a megaphone. “Now kiss!” It wasn’t long before their friends resembled a small picket line, demanding that Kurt and Blaine lock lips by chanting Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! in a steady beat.

“Should we tell them about our date on Thursday?” Blaine asked. “And that it went really, really well?”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “And take all the fun out of it? Yeah, right.”

Blaine’s face split with a wide grin before Kurt fisted Blaine’s shirt and pulled them together, the two rival Greek organizations cheering them on in the background.

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On: Eyes On the Prize (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: This is the last chapter of Bring It On and I just wanna say thanks to everyone who sent a lovely comment my way - it really does motivate. I’ve loved coming back to AQ and writing and maybe I’ll explore that some more in the summer - in the meantime you know I’ll be here reading as much Branjie as you lot wanna give me. Happy bank hol to my fellow Brits and just happy day to everyone else! Hope yous like reading this chapter as much as I liked writing it. Hopefully I can focus more on my A Levels now oops….xoxox Ashley.

Brooke woke to a foreign stream of sunlight forecast across her. Initially, she was panicked, used to her rigid alarms and blackout blinds, the initial unfamiliar scaring her - until she saw Vanessa.

Looking down at her chest she saw the brunette’s head nestled below her shoulder without flaw, slotting into her own body as though they were a lock and key. Two continents bound apart by continental drift now slotted back together with a satisfying alignment. Vanessa’s caramel arm around her stomach, Brooke felt like she’d woken up in heaven, the pair of them entangled in a field of white sheets. Something about seeing the girl who was always on the defence being so serene and calm as she burrowed into Brooke’s body gave her the urge to kiss the top of her head. Brooke didn’t want to leave the celestial city - or the empress who ruled it. She wanted to stay in the clouds with her forever, Vanessa’s bed a safe haven from the outside world.

Like usual, it didn’t take long for the clouds to part and for Brooke to come crashing back down to earth.

The time it took for someone to knock on a door three times if she was being exact.

“Vanessa?” the instantly recognisable tone of Jovan’s voice rang through the room like a panic alarm.

She watched in dismay as Vanessa’s eyes shot open and adjusted to the scene in front of her.

“Shit,” Brooke whispered, leaping out of bed and making a dive for the pile of discarded clothes from the night before.

“Under the bed!” Vanessa mouthed to the girl frantically, pointing her perfectly manicured nails downwards.

About to throw herself under Vanessa’s bed, Brooke stopped in her tracks, seeing a row of red draws where there would normally be a gap.

“It’s a box spring!”

“Vanessa!” he started to bang on the door louder.

“Closet,” Vanessa pointed again - resulting in a deadpan glare from the other girl.

If she’d thought that her life had resembled an Alanis Morissette song earlier then she may as well have thrown on a red beanie and hung out of a car window at this point - bundling her clothes into her arms and plunging into the closet of the lesbian head cheerleader.

“Come in,” Vanessa shouted, her voice still shaky from the near-miss.

Although she felt a twang of pain at the thought of hiding away, as though Vanessa was embarrassed by her, Brooke couldn’t deny that the rush of sneaking around turned her on a little, flashbacks of the night before jolting through her brain and she huddled her knees to her chest and eyeballed Vanessa through the slit in the doors.

“Why are you still in bed - we’re gonna be late!” he picked a sock from the floor and threw it at his sister’s head. Brooke’s sock.

“Sorry, I’ll not be long,” she started to get up and brush her hair, her brother rolling his eyes at her dishevelled state.

“I’ll offer Brooke a lift, I know she’s free first period,” Jovan grabbed his phone to dial.

“Don’t!” Vanessa grabbed it from his hands, quickly glancing at her bedside table where Brooke’s phone was sitting.

“So that’s why she’s been avoiding me,” he snatched his phone back from Vanessa, “You know Vanessa it would be nice if you didn’t fuck around my friends with your cheerleading drama. What was it this time, she didn’t throw you high enough?”

“Something like that,” Vanessa mumbled - Brooke constraining a laugh from inside the closest, the sheer awkwardness and irony of the situation once again making her life a satire of itself in the form of a teenage coming of age flick.

“Well, you better make up soon because I did not buy a ticket to nationals to watch you two scraping.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Brooke could see Vanessa smiling through the gap, visibly excited at the thought of her step-brother coming to watch her cheer.

“Go without me, I’ll head in later,” she motioned for him to exit - Brooke releasing a heavy sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to be stuck making friends with Vanessa’s shoes for much longer.

Moving out of the closet still semi-naked, Brooke was anything but enthralled by Vanessa’s reaction - scrunching her nose at the girl’s cackles.

“How do you not know what type of bed you have?” Brooke asked the girl, utterly flabbergasted at how they managed to pull the wool over Jovan’s eyes.

“I panicked, it’s what they do in the movies,” Vanessa started to laugh even more until Brooke couldn’t help but join in.

The morning after the night before had always been awkward for Brooke; from the surface, she’d have assumed it would be today but something about Vanessa and her laugh made her feel more at ease than ever, floating above all the unspoken pleasantries.

“Hey, if my ass is big enough to form its own Insta then I doubt it’s gonna fit under there!” Brooke giggled as she pointed to the tiny gap between Vanessa’s bed frame and carpet.

“I’m sorry about that,” Vanessa visibly grimaced, “I just get so defensive and on guard - I shouldn’t have been so rude. I can’t explain it. Like this big fear just comes looming over me, I was petrified everyone would know, that they could see it all over my face,”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Brooke grabbed the girls wrist.

There was that fire, back again to swallow her up and cut off the outside world.

“Brooke, you can’t tell anyone about this,” Vanessa dismissed her reassurance, giving Brooke a death glare that made her want to run away afraid and pin her down longingly at the same time.

“I won’t. But you can’t treat me like shit whenever you get scared. And you can’t mess the squad about either, going back and forth with our routine like that so close to nationals.”

Brooke was serious - ever since joining the squad and moving to Tampa those months ago she had channelled almost everything she had into winning nationals; her feelings for Vanessa, her homesickness, her anxieties - they all lead up to that moment and she wouldn’t allow what she had with the girl to mess it up, despite not caring whether it would mess herself up in the process.

“Prom,” Vanessa held a manicured finger to Brooke,

“I need a full promise,” Brooke teased her, raising her eyebrows.

“I promise.”

“I best be going then,” Brooke looked at her phone, wishing she could stay longer but not willing to risk exposure for Vanessa’s sake,

“Yeah, don’t want my brother to think you’ve been held captive by some psychopath.”

“The truth?” Brooke grinned - her heart shattering into a million pieces on the floor at the sight of Vanessa’s toothy smile in response.

“Shut up,” she responded, Brooke proud of herself for out-whiting the sassy cheerleader. “I’ll see you at the fundraiser!”

“Yes, the car wash. The car wash I definitely didn’t forget all about,” Brooke cursed internally and began to text Jovan with a proposal to skip double English that afternoon for a trip to the mall.

“I didn’t,” Vanessa winked as Brooke left.

Shaking her head to herself, Brooke decided that this had been the most clinically insane week of her life. Vanessa kissed her. Vanessa had feelings for her. Vanessa wanted to see her in a bikini. All that had crossed her mind since moving to Tampa, every lustful thought she tried to repress and dismiss as fiction was now beyond belief fact, and Brooke knew she would bask in every minute of it even if it meant lying to the whole world around her.

***

“What about this? It’s kinda Amazon-esque,” Brooke held up a half cobalt, half snakeskin print bikini with high-waisted bottoms to her absent-minded friend.

“I might just go naked,” she tried to get Jovan’s attention as he mumbled in agreement, unable to take his eyes away from his phone; “It’ll save me some money at least!”

Rolling her eyes at his inability to be present, she looked over his shoulder and sighed, “Jacob again is it?” - his head perking up at the mention of the boy’s name.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her, “He is waaay out of my league and I don’t want to seem weird!”

Brooke knew the feeling.

“He’s not and you seem more weird hanging onto your phone every second - let him wait for you,” she snatched it away and shoved the swimwear back in his eyesight.

“Who are you trying to impress with that! My, my mami. Can’t imagine our Canadian princess getting down and dirty in that,”

“No one,” she panicked, Vanessa’s words ringing in her head as she threw the suit back on the rack.

“Get it, I’m kidding,” he picked it back up, “You have the boobs for it and you aren’t in Canada anymore Dorothy. You wanna make enough money to get that extra day pass for nationals and as awful as it seems you ain’t gonna be making it hiding away those twins.”

Turning a deep shade of red, Brooke’s mind couldn’t help but revert back to Vanessa - she figured it wouldn’t hurt to show up to the fundraiser in the bikini to impress her along with making more money. Brooke was adamant that her good intentions certainly outweighed her skewed motive.

***

“BIKINI CAR WASH!”

Like usual, Brooke heard Vanessa before she could see her - always finding something amusing in the contrast between the tiny beautiful girl and her loud gravelly yell. She longed to hear her record an audio book or narrate a ballet - a recording Brooke wouldn’t be able to stop replaying.

Clad in a leopard print kaftan with her dark hair slicked back, Brooke could see the clear frustration in the girl’s face as she tried to draw people into the car wash, taking pride in the quick flash of a smile that ran across Vanessa’s first when they first noticed each other.

“How much we made so far?” Brooke asked the girl, trying so hard to ignore the way in which Vanessa’s eyes did a once over of her body in the bikini.

She still hadn’t fully adjusted to the fact that whatever they had going on was real, that their night together hadn’t just been a fantasy and that Vanessa had felt the same way all along - so moments like this were still surprising her and giving her the urge to kiss Vanessa then and there, her years of disciple training from ballet having the most unexpected use.

“Hardly anything. I knew we should have done something else, I just didn’t want to stray away from tradition. I just wanna make sure we get the best passes,” she started to vent to Brooke whilst she counted the little money they had made.

“We’ll get there,” Brooke smiled as she started to gather her bucket and sponge.

“Maybe the money will come flooding in now we’ve got some snow,” Vanessa grinned at the girl, catching her off guard by throwing a dry cloth in her direction.

Rolling her eyes in the process, Brooke made sure to use her flexibility to her advantage as she bent over for the cloth, earning hollers from the other students around - but there was only one she cared about, the one shaking her head playfully at Brooke; touche.

***

Brooke’s jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw the car in front of her.

Drenched bonnet to boot in mud - she was already having a mini panic attack and examining her nails before even speaking to the driver.

Purple dreadlocks and sharp eyebrows, the girl wound down her window and gave Brooke a quizzical once over.

“You’re an Amazon?” she asked, clearly picking up on Brooke’s different appearance to the squad, something she herself had felt self-conscious about before moulding into the family like nothing was different. The teens in the shotgun and back laughed as they handed the girl a clear bag bundled with cash. Probably the most cash Brooke had seen in her life, she thought to herself as she scanned the parking lot for Vanessa.

“$1000 to clean this thing?” she waved the bag in front of Brooke’s face.

Confused as to what to say, Brooke stood bewildered a moment before Jaren came to her side.

“Vicky, what you doing here? Vanj will flip,” he asked the girl with a gloss of panic on his face.

“I’m here for this lovely girl to wash my car,” she motioned to Brooke who was starting to assemble the missing pieces to the puzzle - before her sat the captain of the Amazon’s rival squad for nationals, Vanessa’s arch-rival.

“She’s not laying a finger on this piece of trash.”

There she was, Brooke’s knight in a leopard print bikini.

The superhuman who protected her from the cruel realities of Earth.

“Hey, miss Vanjie!” The girl waved with a splinter of sarcasm that could impale metal.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to fight,” Vanessa looked down at the girl with her usual fierceness.

“The opposite,” she tossed the bag of money out of the Amazons - green rain at their feet. “I wanna help you get all the funds you need to compete to your best standard at nationals. That way it will be even more satisfying when we wipe the floor with you again, we can win from a level playing field.”

Brooke instantly understood why Vanessa’s nose flared at the mention of the girl, seeing her first start to form a ball in her hand a la Arthur. Her acrylics digging hard into her skin.

Brooke placed a reassuring hand on Vanessa’s arm, slipping a whisper in her direction; “She’s not worth it.”

“We don’t need your dirty money to get on the same level, it doesn’t cost shit to go downwards,” Vanessa kept her cool with a reassuring squeeze from Brooke.

God, Brooke couldn’t wait to compete.

“Take it, don’t take it,” Vicky gave Vanessa an obviously fake smile, “I doubt all the help in the world can get rid of your curse.”

And with that they were gone - Vanessa left a cartoon character with steam blowing out of her ears.

“I’m not fucking cursed,” she started to ball up the money that blew across the car park, gaining attention from others. “We can take all of this to a charity, we don’t need it. It doesn’t matter how many nights we stay at nationals or how new our Pom Poms are, we’re gonna fucking destroy them.”

“It’s okay, she’s just trying to rattle your cage,”

“Well, it worked. I hate the thought of her pitying me,” Vanessa started to run her hands through her hair with frustration. Brooke wanted nothing more to hold them and tell her it was all gonna be okay. “I only did this stupid thing cause it’s a tradition, I’m sure there are better ways of making money than whoring ourselves out washing cars!”

“I’d ask my parents but there’s a reason we moved down here,” Brooke looked down at the floor.

“It’s fine B, we’ve got enough to get by we’ll just have to skimp once we’re down there but it doesn’t matter. We ain’t gonna care what new shit we had and how many days we had passed for once we win,”

“That’s my girl,” Brooke smiled; Vanessa’s sense of determination always sending her head into spins. Her fiery way’s sending Brooke insane.

“You wish, Brooke Lynn.”

She did more than just wish.

***

Brooke couldn’t help but gain a rush from sneaking around with Vanessa. The nights she waited till Jovan was asleep and crept down to the bottom floor bedroom - his new relationship giving them ample time to roam free together. The walks they took to far away parks, buying ice cream and milkshakes - Vanessa was always cherry. The stolen glances they had in practice. It was more than a lust for someone commanding, someone beautiful - it was the way she clung onto every one of Vanessa’s words, the way in which she knew just what made Brooke laugh. It was her vulnerable side, the side she only showed to Brooke. It was all the different layers of her personality in one big ball of sunshine. Around Brooke, Vanessa was irrevocably herself and Brooke was the same.

There was something special about what they had - their little secret away from the world. No one knew about the things they did, no one knew how special Vanessa really was. How she cried at the end of Pocahontas when she waved goodbye to John Smith and chose to stay with her people. How she couldn’t take one bite into a hot pepper without demanding water and screaming at Brooke to help. How she stayed up all night on the phone to Brooke - asking question and question about her old life, wanting to know the girl the best she could, genuinely interested in her stories of ballet and boys. No one knew about them and Brooke didn’t mind because it just felt right - why let the world in when what they had was so perfect just with the two of them. Yes, she sometimes longed to tell the world that Vanessa was her’s, to shout from the rooftops that she chose Vanessa over everything - but she knew in the back of her head that things wouldn’t be the same. That behind the stormy captain there was a small girl afraid of one drop of rain. Although it lingered in the back of her mind that they couldn’t stay this way forever - Brooke knew she would go as long as she possibly could hiding with Vanessa if that’s what it took to be with her - she would wait as long as it took for the girl to be ready so long as she could keep holding her hand, laughing with her and kissing her along the way.

She just didn’t know that their own movie-style romance would be cut short by an ad break they were unable to skip.

“Everyone’s gonna be here soon,” Brooke muffled as Vanessa made for her neck, leaving smooches down to her clavicle as Brooke sat in her tank and shorts ready to practice.

“It’s fine, I told them to come a little later,” Vanessa grinned before kissing the girl.

“Wait,” Brooke pulled away, teasing the girl, “You postponed practice one week from the biggest competition of the year just so you could get something warm between your legs? What kind of captain are you?”

“Well it was just to spend time with you, not sexually driven but if you’re that way inclined,” Vanessa raised an eyebrow and started to kiss Brooke again, deeper, with more passion.

At first, Brooke could tell it had been hard for Vanessa to say things like that aloud, to admit that she wanted to spend time with Brooke, that she wanted her body, but as times progressed she had become more open around the girl and started to throw her inhibitions out the window.

She hadn’t even registered that her top was off, and so was Vanessa’s until they heard it - the almighty boom. The fatal voice.

“Vanjieee!” Silky burst into the room.

Glass shattered. Shelves collapsed. The sound of distant cries rang in her ear.

Her whole world was now upside down and the gravity that once pulled her to Vanessa now pushed her away even further.

“Shit,” Brooke cried, pulling the covers over herself quickly.

Vanessa stayed silent, a blank gloss over her usual heightened expressions.

Brooke didn’t know where her mind had gone, but it wasn’t there.

“Holy shit,” Silky laughed to herself as she looked back and forth between the pair in disbelief. “Vanjie, you rug munching?”

“Get the fuck out,” Brooke avoided eye contact with the girl as she raised her voice, her concern about Vanessa taking over her embarrassment.

“I guess I’ll be in the garden then,” Silky gave the girls another sceptical look before leaving the room.

The door shut in place.

Barely 2 minutes had passed and what had felt like an eternity of the relationship between Brooke and Vanessa was gone with the click of that door.

“Vanessa, it’s okay,” Brooke wrapped her arms around the girl after putting her shirt back on.

“Just go,” Vanessa looked straight ahead - Brooke didn’t know where she was, but it wasn’t there with her.

“You don’t have to be defensive, it’s fine,” Brooke tried to hold the girl’s hand.

“Go,”

“Vanes-”

“Go,”

“It’s not the end of the world, she’ll understand, I l-”

“I can’t believe we let it get this far.”

“Vanessa,” Brooke’s eyes pleaded at the girl, waiting for her Vanessa, her soft Vanessa who smelt like cherries to come back.

“Just go.”

So she did.

She walked straight out of the house and kept walking until she was running, sprinting. Sprinting away from the pain, away from her problems. Sprinting until her legs hurt and she was going to be sick. Sprinting til her chest leapt up and down with each heavy breathe - letting the tears hit the ground like black rain on her wedding day. Sprinting till it was dark and late and she didn’t know where she was. She was scared to stop because once she stopped it was all real and she had to think about it. When she stopped, she was alone.

Her fingers were numb and the streets unfamiliar. Pulling out her phone, she almost called Vanessa as she went onto her recent conversations, forgetting that her usual saviour was the one who had banished the damsel this time. She flicked past her parents, they would ask why she was there, what was wrong. Even though she knew Vanessa would hate her for it, Brooke called the only person she knew that wouldn’t pressure or pry, the only person here who had seen her anxiety at its deepest and darkest.

“Hey girl, I’m kinda in the middle of something,” he hinted to her.

She tried to find the words but couldn’t and let out a panicked breath.

“Brooke, you okay?”

“Just breathe okay, it will pass. It always ends Brooke, it’ll pass.”

Brooke tried her hardest to listen, to home in on his words and let them overpower the negative.

“Just breathe nice and slow Brooke, it’ll be over soon,”

Counting to ten and doing as he said, she managed to find a part of her voice that hadn’t be stolen by Vanessa.

“I don’t know where I am,” fear started to set in more when she said it out loud.

“It’s fine, I can see on snap, okay?”

“Can you stay on the phone?” she asked, trying hard to let anything else take over her mind - a distraction from the voice in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough.

“Yeah, Jacob can drive and I’ll stay on the phone. We’ll be 20 minutes. It’ll be over soon Brooke, we’ll get you some gravy and fries, yeah?”

She could hear some shuffling and muffled conversation, a thank you, the shutting of a door.

“I’ll even let you add the cheese on top,”

“Yeah,” Brooke started to return back to reality ever so slightly - trying hard to breathe naturally and think about the end when things would go back to normal - her voice still hoarse, fighting its way to be heard, that one syllable a small step to victory in her mind.

***

“Oh god, your boy is waiting in the car!” Brooke exclaimed, only remembering after Jovan had helped her return to normalcy.

“I’m so sorry, I interrupted your night and dragged you out here,”

“Don’t apologise,” he shook his head at her, “I’d much rather know you’re okay then get a bit of D. He can wait.”

“Well thanks anyway, for understanding,” Brooke pulled her friend into a hug, grateful to have someone who would help with her without asking what lead her to that state, still weighed down by the embarrassment that came after a panic attack.

“Anytime,” he grinned, “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Jacob again anyway, I think it might be getting serious.”

Although she was happy for her friend - Brooke couldn’t help but feel a pang at her chest at the thought of Vanessa - the girl she would give the world for telling her to go. Telling her it had gone too far.

“You better not make anything official without making sure he likes our lunch combo first,” Brooke smiled for what felt like the first time in forever as she made her way to the car.

“I guess we can stop at the 7/11 and see what they have,”

“I believe I was promised cheese on top too,” Brooke curled her lip at the boy jokingly - trying her hardest to think of anyone, anything other than Vanessa, about ‘I can’t believe we let it go this far.’

When was too far? Was it when they kissed in the street after Akeria’s party? When Brooke showed up at Vanessa’s window and gave herself to the other girl. When they stayed up late eating takeout, planning routines and Vanessa fell asleep in her lap. When they walked by the river and talked about plans of sailing away together to their own little island away from everyone else. Or was it when Silky saw them. When Brooke went to usher the 3 words she had began to realise she meant more than anything and Vanessa stopped her.

She didn’t know and didn’t want to.

All she wanted was to have it all back - she knew she would keep the secret forever if it meant having Vanessa.

***

Once again, Brooke had thrown herself head first into cheerleading - yes, she wanted to beat the Vixen’s and come first place, but she had a more important prize in mind. She would stop at nothing to show Vanessa what she had let go. Wanting to perform with the girl one last time before she could walk away and drop it - she needed to show Vanessa that she wouldn’t give up that easy. No one told Brooke Lynn Hytes to go and didn’t expect resistance. The past week had been hard, knowing she’d have to spend time with Vanessa in practice, constantly keeping her head down, avoiding eye contact, knowing that if she saw the girls face she would just crumble. She spent most of her time with Jovan, her solid rock there to catch her when she fell - figuratively and literally - she had never been so grateful for all the times he had watched her routine and helped her through, her gratitude only amplified knowing that he himself had never been given the chance to cheer.

She began to doubt even going to nationals however, once she made her way onto the bus there.

One of the school gym teachers greeted her, ticking her off a sheet and giving a generic rundown of the following days; when they would arrive, what time was free, who’d she’d be rooming with. A surge of sadness welled over Brooke at the thought of all the plans she had made with Vanessa. All the talking they had done about their trip had boiled down to this - to sitting at the back of the bus barely making out her dark ponytail above one the seats. They were going to go to sneak away to the rides in the daytime, Vanessa said she wasn’t a screamer and Brooke knew this was a lie. They would share a room on the night and fall asleep in each other’s arms before waking up the next day ready to kick ass with all their competition. The difference in expectation and reality hit an all-time high to Brooke at that moment. She was only just learning how quickly things can do a 180 from their original path and smack her right in the face.

The energy was immense; everyone happy and excited, the moment they had waited for all year was finally coming but Brooke couldn’t help but sulk back and hide away from it all, building her own fort of loss and longing to comfort her. She closed her eyes in a bid to fall asleep despite knowing she wouldn’t be able to; even the top of Vanessa’s head proving to be too much for her.

“You alright?” she felt the seat beside her dip.

No, she wasn’t. Brooke hated the bipolar captain who was too caught up in her own feelings of self-loathing to give a thought to hers. She was also in love with her, but that was neither here nor there, she lied to herself. She wanted nothing more than to go over and slap Vanessa for being a bitch, to show her that she wouldn’t be trampled on by her sparkling white trainers. She also wanted to slip her the tongue. She really really wanted to slip her the tongue.

“Fine,” she told Jay, feeling reassured that someone had noticed her off-kilter demeanour, “Just nervous, you know?”

“It’s natural,” he smiled, “But once you’re in that moment, everyone cheering for you, the judges right there, it’s all in the flow.”

“Thanks,” Brooke responded, starting to wish she’d spent more time getting to know the other Amazons - her infatuation with Vanessa had kind of put them on the back burner.

“Just enjoy yourself - have you been to Disney before?”

“Not my scene,” Brooke responded, and it hadn’t been, or at least it hadn’t been until she’d pictured herself there with Vanessa.

“That’s what everyone says,” he laughed.

Maybe Brooke wasn’t as alone as she thought.

***

“Oh my god girl, get up!” Monet motioned her arms around the room. “We are in Disneyland, it’s your first ever nationals and you gonna tell me you’ve spent all of today looking at these 4 walls,”

“Yes,” Brooke responded bluntly, turning back over onto her side like the sullen teenager she could be.

“Half of the fun is in the atmosphere. You should have gotten yourself down to the Sports Complex - all the teams practising, doing their little talks, ESPN cameras everywhere. It’s mad.”

“I’m just not feeling well,” Brooke looked at her roommate apologetically.

“I call bull,” she shook her head at Brooke whilst pulling out a makeup bag from her suitcase, “There’s a special UCA night at Hollywood Studios tonight. The Vixens are gonna be there so we can psych them out, and have a little fun before the big day too.”

“I’m good,” Brooke responded, the thought of being in a social environment with Vanessa driving her crazy, she didn’t know if she’d be able to control herself face to face with the girl, she just wanted to be out there performing.

“I wasn’t asking!” Monet pulled a blending sponge from the bag, “And I’m doing your makeup, get over here.”

***

A purple lip and smokey eye later, Brooke was starting to get paranoid about standing out as the squad began to gather piece by piece at the studios. She watched as one Amazon after the other came and said hello - until there was just one piece of the puzzle left to be fitted.

“Vanj just texted,” Silky announced, “She ain’t coming,”

Brooke piping up at the mention of Vanessa, Silky only gave her a dirty look as in to say ‘it’s your fault’. She had spent the past week walking on eggshells around Silky, desperate not to get on her wrong side but also longing to pull her aside and ask about Vanessa; what did she say? Is she okay?

As if on cue, Vicky Taylor and her secondary Vixens strutted over to the squad.

“Where’s miss Vanjie? Too scared to fight?”

“What’s it to do with you?” Akeria stepped forward, giving the other captain a stare that would give Cerberus a good scare.

“Hey Jaren,” she smiled and waved, ignoring Akeria entirely, “you decided to move to a better squad, yet?”

Jaren looked down embarrassed, clearly torn in the battle between his friend and team. “I’m good here Vic,” he responded politely, ignoring the taunting nature of her tone.

“That’s alright, my girls can wipe the floor with you either way,” her eyes scanned the group dismissively, landing on Brooke. “You know, I gotta hand it to you, I really thought Vanjie might bring the slightest bit of competition this year, guess I was wrong for once,” she smiled at one of the girls next to her.

If Brooke had guessed where she would be a few months ago - it would certainly not have been having a dissing war with cheerleaders in the middle of a Disney park but she couldn’t help feel a sense of pride and protectiveness over her squad, over Vanessa’s reputation.

“You know if Vanjie was here you’d be quaking in your boots,” Brooke looked the girl up and down sourly, “She may be half the size of you but she has ten times the bite and you know what Vicky, I think you need to find a dictionary and look up the word insecure cause you’re gonna need it when all your smack talk means nothing on the mat tomorrow.”

“Who are you, her lap dog?”

“No, I’m your worst nightmare. And you better bring it tomorrow or you’ll be crying in your sleep,” a confident side of Brooke emerged and the thought of Vanessa being unable to defend herself to the girl. She may have been furious with her, but she understood better than anyone the fights and effort Vanessa had put in to get to this moment, and Brooke would be damned if she let some sly foxes try and take it away from her.

With the flick of her blonde hair, she walked away triumphantly, only wishing she had the confidence to speak up to Vanessa in the same way - to tell her everything she was feeling and more - the good, the bad and the ugly. The nerves she’d felt in her stomach since getting on the minibus were starting to fade away - Brooke once again knew what she was there to do and she was gonna do it right.

***

Brooke couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming smell of hairspray as she walked into the Sports Centre. Everything was bright and colourful - red to the left of her and purple to the right. Girls scattered everywhere in the most organised chaos she had ever seen. Monet was right, something about walking through the building, hair curled and scrunchies in place, not a wrinkle in anyone’s uniform, cameras all around made her feel like she was on the set of a movie.

Backstage ballet was always reclusive, girls sat at their mirrors focused silent. Here, cheerleaders flipped their way across the room, competitive banter being spat across the room like water. Following the teacher from their school, she walked alongside Monet, taking the place in like a little kid in a costume store - drawn by every sequin and bow.

Near the front of the group, she heard Vanessa and Silky mutter in hushed tones - Brooke having spent the night before laying in bed, willing herself not to pick up the phone and dial the number of their room, or walk up there herself. She knew that her words were wasted on Vanessa at this point, all that was left to do was to throw her heart and soul into the routine and let Vanessa know that she was a fighter.

Adrenaline pumped through each and every one of their veins as they waited in the dressing room. Every lace tied, every t crossed and I dotted, the squad had nothing more to do but wait for the competition to start, an angsty Vanessa pacing back and forth between the seats. All Brooke wanted to do was to hold her and tell her she was going to kill it, but once again she knew that the glossed over Vanessa in front of her was not the one she had grown so close to, the fear of rejection taking over the girl completely. She knew that soon the competition would start and they’d be waiting at the sidelines watching the other teams - and then they’d be up there. Months of practice, months of fear, months of love, months of heartache all bundled into 2 and a half minutes. Her parents, Jovan, all the audience focused on them. A shiver ran down Brooke’s spine at the thought of baring her soul to all those people. Even though she’d performed with more emotion in ballet, there was something about the big open space, the way she could see the judges and the audience that she found more daunting than any theatre stage.

“Everyone go run about; get some fresh air, a snack, a drink, have a stretch - we’re no good cooped up in here,” Vanessa announced to the group with her powerful command. Brooke didn’t know if she’d seen her start to get anxious or not but took the break nonetheless - afraid of the dead air that lingered between her and Vanessa, the noticeable heaviness that hung around whenever they were in the same room.

***

3 bottles of water in her arms and waiting at the door, Brooke was growing impatient at the boys’ messing around; “C’mon guys we gotta get back!”

“Lighten up Brooke, you’re so tense, you gotta go out there all loose.” Jaren pulled a face at her before leaping into a back handspring tuck.

And then she heard it, the death-defying crunch.

It almost happened in slow motion, the way his foot twisted one degree extra to the right, all his weight resting on that extra turn. All that pressure cracking down hard on his ankle.”

“Fuck,” he cried, falling to the ground.

Jay ran to his side.

And Brooke ran to the only person she could think of, the hero who always knew how to pull her and the squad out of the murky waters and into the clear tracks.

“You have to come quick,” Brooke half-shouted when she found her, “It’s Jaren, I think he’s broke his ankle.”

And then they were holding hands.

Brooke didn’t even have time to think about the spark because she was jumping at high frames per minute - someone pressing fast forward one, two, three times on her and Vanessa until they were in the room. Paramedics already at Jaren’s side.

“No,” she looked ahead, “No.”

“I’m sorry Vanjie,” he grimaced with shame as he was helped into a chair.

“The fucking curse,” Vanessa crouched down on the floor in disbelief.

“It’s fine we can get everyone around, we can figure out how to do it without him,” Brooke put a hand on her back and felt like she’d returned back to their little safe haven, her fear and resentment for the girl sizzling away when she saw her looking so defeated.

“We entered with 20, so we have to perform with 20. They have that routine on record we can’t show anything else. You can only change who is competing and your routine if you phone like months in advance,” Jay winced at Brooke.

Brooke watched as the tears streamed down Vanessa’s face - heavy tears of frustration. Years of hard work and she had slipped at the very last hurdle.

“What if we had 20,” Brooke asked, looking pleadingly between the two of them, wanting desperately to make things right for them, to make them right for Vanessa.

“People can’t compete on two teams, and you’re not gonna find some secret cheerleader hidden about who can learn our routine within the hour,”

And the missing piece of the puzzle all clicked into place in Brooke’s head.

“I’m gonna fix it,” she knelt down to whisper to the girl she loved, “I’m gonna fix it all.”

***

“What?” Jovan looked at her blankly, His parents and Jacob either side giving Brooke equally quizzical looks.

“Please, Jovan. Not for me, for Vanessa. You know how hard she’s worked, how much this means to her,”

“I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“You do, think of all the times you’ve helped me practice, watched us in your yard. We have an hour,”

“I don’t exactly scream enthusiasm though do I,” he looked at Brooke, highlighting the flaws in her plan - but she didn’t mind because this was her only chance.

“I know you used to when you first auditioned. Now’s your chance to prove to those stupid bitches what they missed out on and to stitch up that open wound with Vanessa,”

“You owe me like a thousand favours,”

“Thank you,” she pulled Jovan into a hug before grabbing his hand and practically dragging him towards their dressing room.

***

The tension in the wings was undeniable. Everyone had spent the past hour giving it their all, showing Jovan where to stand, who to hold, how to present himself and their routine was now a ticking time bomb that could blow at any minute. Any wrong step would put them at an automatic point disadvantage compared to the Vixens who they had just watched perform flawlessly.

They all huddled together, Vanessa giving the usual pep talks and chants, but Brooke could tell she was scared, she could see the anxiousness in the other girl’s eyes, watching her looking back at Jovan as he went over all the steps in the wing.

They made eye contact across the group, and Brooke was surprised to see a smile from across Vanessa’s face; a hopeful smile; ‘oh, there you are’ it read.

Brooke gave a reassuring smile back; ‘I’m always here for you.’

She watched as Vanessa made her way towards her and just stood in silence, looking at Brooke.

Brooke felt a familiar twang of reassurance. For one of the biggest performances of her life that she had stressed about so much, at that moment, in the wings with Vanessa, she was completely calm.

“Your parents have come to watch you,” Brooke smiled at her, knowing what it meant to Vanessa.

“Jovan told me,” she smiled up at Brooke. God had she missed waking up to that toothy grin.

Before Brooke could begin to respond she blurted out to her: “I fucked everything up Brooke,” sincerity in her voice, “but I’m not gonna fuck this up. This is the last thing I have”

“You gonna bring it, Vanessa?”

“I’m gonna bring it, Brooke Lynn.”

And then they were running out, the energy vibrating through her ears, the crowd going wild.

This moment was Brooke’s and no one would take it away from her.

“The R. A. Charles Amazons!” The announcer bellowed as they pumped up the crowd at the start of their routine, adrenaline seeping through every pore.

And then the music started.

They all started to walk backwards before flipping around - Vanessa front and centre, Brooke could see her shine.

They moved like parts of a finely tuned design. Not a wasted through, not a toe across the line. She looked around the group, Jovan killing every move, Vanessa flying higher than she’d ever seen her before. Brooke knew that second place was no such category. She pushed herself further and further into every tumble, emphasised every beat that little bit more. At that moment, it wasn’t just Vanessa who she thought was superhuman, she was starting to think it about herself. She looked the judges in the eye as they added their quirks, making eye contact as she grand jete’d her way across the floor, as Vanessa did a death drop between their routine.

Brooke could see Jovan beaming through every move, smiling more than she even figured was possible for him to smile. A satisfying warming formed in her heart at the thought that he had finally found his dream again years after it was tossed aside.

By the end of the two minutes, the crowd were roaring for them and everything with hazy for Brooke, surrealness taking over.

She felt someone grab her hand as they all ran to the edge of the boundary, throwing their arms in the air and cheering for the crowd, showing that spirit that they all possessed.

Brooke was elated, with Vanessa’s hand in her own, she was grinning from ear to ear and wasn’t even trying to but when she looked to her side she noticed that Vanessa looked more serious like she was thinking about something.

“I love you.”

Brooke did a double take, about to ask her what she said over the roaring crowd.

And then Vanessa grabbed the back of Brooke’s head and kissed her. She kissed her in a way of telling the world ‘this girl’s mine.’ She kissed her with an apology, with regret. She kissed her with happiness, with cherries. She kissed her with all the build-up from the past few months. She kissed Brooke with the look she’d given her that day in the canteen, the time in the kitchen. She kissed her with everything she had and Brooke gave it all in return. She kissed like she didn’t have a care in the world what people were thinking of her because none of that mattered when she was in Brooke’s arms.

Brooke didn’t know and didn’t care how the squad and the crowd were reacting, because all she cared about was Vanessa.

She didn’t care whether they had come first or not, because she knew that she had her prize either way.

She didn’t think all those months in that car journey that she’d be a cheerleader let alone be in love with one, but she knew that this was right, she’d finally figured out what she was there to do.

“You really brought it, Brooke Lynn,” she smiled at her as they pulled away, tears starting to well in her eyes.

“I learnt from the best didn’t I?”

It was true. Vanessa was all of the best parts of Brooke bundled into a little dark-haired firecracker - and she was finally ready to be open and burst into flames for everyone to see.

“Maybe next year we can do this trip how we planned it?” Vanessa asked.

Next year. Brooke’s heart just about melted. How we planned it.

“We still have tonight!” Brooke pulled the girl back into another kiss as they made their way off the floor.

She knew they had tonight, and the next night, and every night because Vanessa “Vanjie” Mateo loved her and she wasn’t going anywhere.

She knew that whatever battles they faced, the two of them were now going to face them together, telling anyone who dared to cross them to bring it on.

[sandersidess]

Family

I may have favoritism oops.

tw: mention of abuse/implied neglect, resentment, happy ending though

-

Shouto sat on Thomas’ roof, staring at the sun setting. The colors had changed just a few minutes earlier, now staring a purple and pink sky. He could hear the laughter and banters, could feel the happiness radiating from there, wanted to leave and never come, wanted to just cry alone. He wasn’t even paying attention to his setting, he didn’t hear someone sitting next to him.

“Why the tears?”

Shouto snaps and looks to his left, letting out a breath as he stopped himself from his quirk. It was just the goth looking American. Virgil was his name. He remembers but Virgil said and touched his cheek, sighing as he felt it wet. Tears.

“No reason.”

“Bullshit.”

Shouto glares at him, but Virgil says nothing else and lays down, scrolling through his phone.

“Talk when ready,” Virgil gives a lazy thumb up and goes back to scrolling.

Shouto and Virgil stayed silent longer, Shouto clenching his hands into fists. Memories he had tried hard to repress were flooding in suddenly, pain he had long forgotten, the feeling of weakness and helplessness.

“I hate my old man.”

Virgil looks at him and raises an eyebrow. He remembers hearing Patton vaguely mention it and nothing else. He sits up on his elbows and nods at Shouto.

“Go on.”

“He’s the reason I can’t connect with others. He’s the reason my mother is locked up in a hospital. He’s the reason I don’t know my siblings and I lost one of them,” He grits his teeth, tears threatening to come out, “The only thing I can thank him for is for making me and not having to worry about money. Other than that, he’s nothing but a sperm donor and a bastard father! I could give a shit that’s he’s the number one hero, because the people don’t know who he truly is! I shouldn’t even have to thank him for anything!”

“How long have you been holding onto this?”

“Since before my training,” Shouto wipes away his tears, “I could hear how he treated my older brother. I only know of his name.”

“Todoro-“

“Shouto,” He says softly and looks down at his lap, “that’s my name.”

“Shouto,” Virgil starts off and is now sitting next to him, “Like you said yourself, he’s nothing but a sperm donor. He’s nothing but a monster who abused you and your family. I wish I could find the correct words to comfort you, but I hope you letting out your frustration to me helped,” He places a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense and then removed it, “One more thing: It is up to you what you want to do with your future. You’ve probably heard it before, but just because he’s your father you don’t have to recognize him as such.”

“That would be disrespectful and shameful,” He whispers and stares off to the distance, “It may be different for you Americans, but family is a big issue for us. We’re supposed to united, connected.”

“Do you feel so with yours?”

“Only my mom and siblings,” A small smile tugged on his lips as he thought of them, “I feel more connected with them.”

“Then that’s your family. Also, family doesn’t have to be blood related,” Virgil ruffles his hair, earning him a groan and made him laugh, “I learned that from Patton. He may be a lot sometimes, but at the end he learns and respects us. Why do you think I call him pops at times?”

“He sure is better than my father,” Shouto chuckles and looks at Virgil. They both weren’t known for their physical affection, mostly Shouto, both touched starved and not knowing how to react when touched. However, Shouto hugged Virgil which made him Yelp then relax. Virgil patted his back and chuckles.

“Do you feel better?” Virgil asks quietly.

“I do. I feel better,” Shouto nods and gives a small smile, “Thank you.”

“These feelings will return, hell, I sometimes get them and look at the family I have. We started off on a bad foot, but we’ve gotten better. But the feelings usually never go away,” Virgil hums as he hears the others laughter, “But you have your own family separated from your sperm donor. Also, I think you created one with the other troublemakers.”

“Todoroki?! Where are you?!”

“And with Mr. I need sleep and hate my kids but I will kill anyone who hurts them,” Virgil laughs as he sees the teacher outside frantically.

“Aizawa-Sensei sure is something else,” Shouto chuckles and feels lighter, wiping away the last of his tears.

They both sat in more silence, hearing sniffling. They both tense and turn around, seeing Izuku taking pictures while also crying. He notices them looking and runs off. Virgil rolls his eyes and helps Shouto off the roof, going back inside where they were playing games.

Shouto scanned the room and saw smiles, heard laughter, felt excitement, joy and free, smelled the fresh food and treats made. He was dragged away by Izuku, towards where they were playing Monopoly. He looks down and huffs, a small smile on his lips.

Yeah. This was his family.

[tayzamxlfoy]

Fuckboy ~ Sirius Black x Hufflepuff reader

Hey guysss!!! So fuckboy huh :)) I actually really love this, I might make it into a sort of series thingy PLEASE let me know if you like it!!!! (Of course I used a Damon gif ;) love him)

Requested by @hufflepuff-chan :)) enjoy

Sirius Black was a fuckboy. Girls and even boys fawned over him at every angle, tripping over their toes excitedly trying to watch him as far as possible as he strutted down the castle corridors. It was like a literal movie, a chick-flick, with a group of girls chittering like excitable birds around every corner, whenever they caught sight of him. You sighed as you watched them and laughed to yourself mockingly, you thought one of them would faint in a minute.

And despite all of the endless obsession and love for this wavy dark haired handsome boy, you decided that Sirius Black was not worth your time. You seemed to be the only one in the castle that thought so. Your friends constantly gossiped about him, much to your disgust, as you sat there eating your feast and rolling your eyes. It was common knowledge, even of the professors, that he could get any girl he wanted. Except what all the girls in the castle were so frustrated by was that he just wouldn’t pick one.

“Maybe he has a girlfriend,” one of your best friends said biting into a chicken sandwich thoughtfully; they hadn’t stopped talking about him all day, it was sickening. “I’m pretty sure we would know y/f/n if he had a girlfriend, he would be snogging her round every corridor,” your other friend rolled her eyes and although her words seemed confident enough, her face was stricken with worry. You laughed and they both turned to you shocked, “guys, who cares?? Come on you don’t want him,” you shook your head and looked at their incredulous expressions. “Y/n, there is no one better than him.”

Being in Hufflepuff, you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with him any more than you had to. If he was strutting around your common room too you thought you’d go insane. The girls of the year didn’t understand why you hated him so much. Their incredulous open mouths whenever you said anything bad about him were hilarious as if you’d said something against royalty. Sirius played with girls, you knew he was a fuckboy, he fucked them around made them feel loved and special and gorgeous until he saw another one and dropped them in the dark. It frustrated the crap out of you. That he thought he could do what he wanted, and people would let him treat them like crap. He was gorgeous, you knew that, you weren’t an idiot, insanely gorgeous, but you weren’t going to let that infatuate you like it did all of the other people in the school and let him tread all over you, you’d had enough of that.

And this is what frustrated him. He could have any girl he wanted, he knew that, everyone did. Except for you. You were the only one who showed no interest towards him, didn’t fall head over heels at his feet and fawn over him running giggling when he looked your way. And it frustrated him to no end, he had no idea why you weren’t like the other girls, why you didn’t like him. He made it his mission to find out.

The further you got through your hogwarts life the more free periods you would have to study, it was great to finally relax for a while with all the OWL stress that pushed down on you for weeks on end, you spent most of this time either in the Hufflepuff common room or the great hall; today being the latter; so you could get some peace. It was morning, the enchanted ceiling above reflecting the pastel blue of the morning sky above.

Your peace was interrupted soon enough, the dark wavy hair fluttered in the corner of your eye as he threw himself on to the bench next to you; his familiar and annoying smirk adorning his broad cheeks. You rolled your eyes and sighed which seemed to encourage him, his grin widened and he put his arm lazily across the table and rested his jaw on his fist as he grinned at you.

You turned to him unamused and looked upon his lazy figure. All of his clothes were black, ripped dark jeans with his slightly browned skin through the rips, his Metallica top had rips through too, covered slightly by his black and worn leather jacket that he always wore; much to the teachers’ distress. Although this boy was probably the bane of your life, you found begrudgingly that your heart fluttered a little as you looked at him. For fucks sake y/n get a grip.

“Morning sunshine,” he drawled; his familiar smirk sounded in his voice as he gazed at you adoringly with his puppy eyes.

You shook your head and smiled a little, looking back to your DADA books infront if you, you laughed: “what do you want Sirius?”

“Oh nothing other than to bask in your stunning, warm light.”

God he was such a drama queen.

If you rolled your eyes any harder you would have probably gone blind.

“Oh save the chat up lines, why don’t you go bask in the sunlight of some other girl, or boy! Take your pick,” you laughed and held your hands out motioning to all the students studying in the hall around you.

“You jealous?” He raised his dark eyebrow suggestively; his ego was plastered across his features causing you to scoff.

“No, I’m not jealous, I’m studying,” to be honest you were completely naive to think he would graciously leave you then. Sirius slid closer to you and plonked his chin on his fist admiringly: “well why don’t you stop studying.”

“Because I want to pass my OWLs thankyou.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled a little smaller, less encouraged, (still gorgeous to your dismay), but still watching you with dark eyes filled with amusement and curiosity. If he wasn’t such a fuckboy you would probably have been amazing friends. You laughed to yourself, whatever.

Shaking your head as you looked down to the words in your book you felt a small smile twitch the corners of your lips in response to his comment; despite you trying your hardest to stop it. Merlin you hated this boy.

The hall around you was softly quiet for a minute, sounds of browned pages turning and whispers of chatter on the slight breeze were peaceful. It was broken again by the wizard boy sitting next to you, quieter and sweeter, but still there.

“I don’t want any of them,” Sirius put his head down a little, suddenly shy, his black waves falling slightly over his face. He raised his dark eyes to yours eventually and smiled, “I want you.”

You scoffed, ignoring the insistent flutter of your heart at his words, “no Sirius, you don’t.”

“I do...”

“No you don’t!! Your voice echoed throughout the hall, turning irritated heads towards you. Oops.

He smiled, amused, and raised his eyebrows skeptically. He watched you like you were some sort of comedy sitcom. Frustration tickled your veins. Eyeing him astounded you breathed and started out of the hall.

The boy’s eyes widened as he realised you were actually going to leave and got up followed you quickly. You thought you would explode in bottled frustration.

As you got to the entrance hall you felt his fingers around your arm and you swung round and glared at their owner.

“Sirius, please just piss off!!”

“What the hell have I done?!”

“Just fucking existed,” Helga Hufflepuff and your mother would not have been proud of you, “all you do is flirt with every person in the planet and watch them fall lovingly and pathetically at your feet; then you watched them cry and break as you move on to someone else! It’s fucking sick!”

His expression changed to one of shock at your sudden outburst, then turned blank. “That’s not true.”

“Which part?!” You shouted incredulously. Your heightened voice echoed of the walls and to be honest you could care less if everyone heard. Heart fluttering angrily and adrenaline trickling through your body made you worse.

“I haven’t met every person on the planet.”

The frustrated groan you made next was probably never emitted by any human before. You laughed humourlessly. You didn’t know why you bothered.

“I don’t know why I bothered. I knew I would get through to you!”

“You bothered because you...like me??” He smirked his annoying smirk.

“See look, you just don’t get it do you?!” Anger shook your voice as it got louder, “you, Sirius Black, are a fuckboy. You fuck around with every bloody person in the school. Merlin, bloody Dumbledore might have a tiny crush on you. And you and them let themselves fall head over heels for you without a thought. It’s disgusting!!”

He eyed you with his dark eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, “I can’t help if they like me.”

“Yes you can!! You can turn some of them down if you aren’t interested, instead of playing with them and tying their hearts in knots and toying with them like puppets!” You felt your throat scratch and your eyes prickle as you began to grow upset. Right then you didn’t care. Why should you repress it??

Shaking your head you sighed heavily and picked up your books you’d dropped in anguish, “so please,” your voice became quieter and calmer now, “just leave me alone.”

You looked once into his dark beautiful eyes and then started up the staircase.

Sirius’ face stayed shocked, his dark eyelashes wide and his mouth slightly opened I’m surprised at your huge outburst and all the insults. You watched him as he swallowed slowly and moved towards you; caution turned to a little concern prickling his features as you flopped down onto the step.

“They’re not your toys, okay??” Murmuring the words you looked down to the steps below you as tears blurred your eyes and rested your head against the wooden banister poles tiredly. He sat beside you.

The boy seemed to watch you with concern and curiosity, quiet and calm. You thought he would have shouted at you or walked off arrogantly. Instead he lifted his hand up towards your face and gently tucked your hair behind your ear away from your face. Your eyes reached his as he gave a cute little smile.

“You didn’t fall at my feet.” It was almost a whisper as he curiously watched you respond.

“What??” You breathed.

“Well,” he looked much less arrogant, less confident, kind and just curious as he looked up at you, this was a different boy to the one you knew, “I’ve flirted with you enough and you haven’t fallen at my feet.”

Your heart fluttered gently, “I’m not like them,” tears were blinked away as you looked up at the portraits stretching curiously to listen to your conversation spring back innocently as if they weren’t interested, you laughed to yourself, so nosy.

“Why?”

Your eyes met his curious ones again as you lifted them, he looked so beautiful in every way, how was that possible?

“I’m just not.” You could think of no other answer, eyes not flicking away from each others for a second he grinned.

“I’m glad you aren’t.”

“What??”

“Like them.”

“Why??”

“Because you’re you,” only then did his eyes flick down shyly and make your heart flutter again, this time you let it. A smile touched your lips.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while until you gazed up to him again “Why are you showing me you??”

“Huh??” Beautiful face in confusion.

“Why are you showing me the real you, that you don’t show the others??” You smiled at him as he flicked his hair away from his face and rested back on his elbows on the steps, looking up to the moving staircases above.

“Only my best friends know me really,” the marauders, you smiled to yourself, “I don’t like showing others, you deserve it,” he shrugged and gave you a crooked grin that make you chuckle.

“Why’s that then?”

“I trust you,” he raised an eyebrow at you as if testing your worth of his trust and you laughed, “okay then.”

You lay back next to him on the steps, you realised just how high the ceiling really was and how cool it looked to watch the stairs move as they wished.

“How do I know you wouldn’t play around with me??” It was a whisper and a true question. You found yourself slowly loving this boy you’d hated for so long, his real self revealed to you through all of the bravado and shit that he shows everyone else. Your head turned to meet his as you lay on the steps.

“You’ll have to trust me on that one,” with that he winked and made you grin and breathe a laugh as you both turned your heads to watch the stairs again. This new sincere and kind, funny Sirius Black was just your perfect boy and you felt every bone in your body wanting him. You shook your head and laughed to yourself. For goodness sake.

“I won’t.”

He ensured you. Turning to watch him as he continued to look up at the sky you smiled slightly. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t, felt you could trust him with you. Merlin how did that happen.

His eyes turned to you and burned into your own instensly, showing you just how much he meant it. He brought his hand to your face slowly and brushed away a stray tear off your cheek with his chapped thumb, butterflies fluttered gently in your stomach as he smiled sweetly to you, as if he heard them fly.

“Hmm.”

He watched you turn back to the ceiling, smile still on your cheeks. His eyes glistened slightly in his own smile as he sighed silently in relief as he watched you, thank Merlin.

“If I ever give the slightest hint that I’m going to I officially give you permission to poison my pumpkin juice.”

Your laugh echoed off the golden walls as you grinned at his comment, “I can’t wait.”

“You will never have to.” He almost sung it as you mocked disappointment.

“Ah crap, oh well.”

He laughed a melodic chuckle as you both realised that yknow what, you two weren’t so bad together after all. You felt a big grin rise across your cheeks. Who would have thought.

You also smiled wider as you pictured the face of every girl in the school dying of shock as you walked in to dinner with Sirius Black’s leather covered arm around your shoulders lazily. McGonagall reluctantly handing over a galleon to Dumbledores smug hand as he watched us walk in.

[heauxkyu]

97 sprace, please. ☺️

Thanks for asking! I promised myself I would make this one shorter than my first sprace prompt, but I have no self control oops. I was also gonna try a modern au but I love my period-typical newsies and no one can stop me from writing historically inaccurate gay shit ((Also their accents are written atrociously I’m so sorry)) Hope you like it :)

97. “You’re so cute when you pout like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Guess what?”

An excited voice shouted right into Spot’s ear just as he was about to doze off, his feet propped up on a rotting wooden crate and his back leaning against a slanted metal rod, one of the hundreds upon hundreds providing support to the Brooklyn bridge.

Surrounded by mucky water, abandoned fishing nets, empty cargo bins, and scattered broken bottles, Spot’s throne was far less than impressive. However, it was still his place, his perch, the location where any newsie could most likely find him on a laid-back afternoon. Although, most of the Brooklyn newsies knew better than to interrupt the King when he was relaxing after selling, meaning the abrasive voice that woke Spot out of his peaceful daydream didn’t belong to one of his boys.

Tipping his hat away from his eyes, he glared up at Racetrack Higgins, rolling his eyes as he watched the Manhattan newsie bounce on the balls of his feet, holding his hands behind his back, waiting for Spot to respond to his initial question.

“The hell do you want?” Spot grumbled, settling back against his pole and crossing his arms over his chest, doing his best to appear unalarmed. Truth be told, Race had been the last person he expected to see. While Race had made an annoying habit of visiting Spot whenever he had the chance, it was usually at night after he was done selling for the day, when he knew Spot was alone and could let his guard down. Race would either challenge him to a quick game of cards or he would simply ramble on about the events of the day, seemingly happy about simply being able to talk with the other boy when he wasn’t so worried about his status. However, it was still early in the afternoon, and there was no way Race was done selling his papers; Spot knew he took breaks between to bet on the races constantly occurring at Sheepshead, meaning it took him twice as long to sell his papes on a busy day.

“You have to guess!” Race responded, the same excited shrill still accompanying his voice. Spot scowled.

“What if I don’t care?” He yawned, moving his hand up to tip his hat back over his eyes. “Go away.”

Race, completely used to Spot’s sarcasm and nonchalance, simply reached forward and tipped Spot’s hat back up so he could look at him again. Grinning, he still held one hand behind his back and tried again.

“Spot, c’mon! You’ll never guess what just happened to me!”

“Well, clearly you wasn’t just taught how to leave a guy alone.” Spot growled, sitting up and adjusting his hat on his head once more. “That’d be a damn miracle.” He attempted to crane his neck to see what Race was hiding, but Race turned further away, still maintaining his stupid, cocky grin.

“Christ,” the younger boy mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “How am I supposed to know what happened? Did ya find another dead frog?”

Race giggled as he thought back to the time he had indeed found a dead frog and thought it would be hilarious to put it in Spot’s discarded hat as they played cards one night. When Spot had put his hat back on and felt the frog carcass tumble down the back of his shirt, he had let out the highest pitch scream that Race had ever heard. To this day, he denies that the noise ever happened, but Race still wheezes with laughter every time the event is brought up.  

“No, but you’s got a nasty attitude that makes me wish I had a dead frog to fling at ya.” Race said, side stepping Spot again as the other boy tried to peer behind his back another time.

“Damnit, Race. I know you ain’t even finished sellin’ your papes. Either get outta here or tell me what you got.” Spot snapped, losing patience by the second. He tolerated Race and his antics to a point, but now that his nap had been interrupted, he was like a small toddler, ready to break at any second.

Race pursed his lips, bouncing on his feet again, waiting a little longer just to watch Spot suffer before he blurted out “I WON!”

Spot barely had time to raise an eyebrow at the boy in front of him before a small pouch was hitting him in the face. He jumped back slightly before looking down at the bag that had now fallen in his lap. “You… won?” He asked, clearly lost.

“At Sheepshead, you moron!” Race cried, picking up the bag from Spot’s lap and waving it in his face. Spot could hear the money rolling around inside, and the words finally started clicking in his mind. Race, to his knowledge, had never won a single bet he placed at Sheepshead, for he was always the victim of bad tips and, frankly, shitty luck.

“No way.” Spot gasped, his eyes widening. “You’re kiddin’.”

“Look at it, Spot!” Race cried again, opening the bag and digging in to pull out the coins. “I’m rich!” He shoved the money in Spot’s face, near hysterical laughter coming from his mouth. “I’s just over at Sheepshead doin’ my sellin’, right? And the next race is happenin’ real soon and I just hadta go see it, but I got no idea who to bet on. So then,” He paused to take a giant breath before continuing, “So then, these two guys is passin’ me by and they whisperin’ real low about the horse they’s bettin’ on. I followed behind ‘em and they said Ol’ Sweets was the winner. She ain’t ever won before but I bet on her anyway. And she won today and I won! I won! Four whole dollars!”

He was practically dancing in front of Spot, clenching his fist around the money and spinning around like a fool. Spot sat stunned in front of him. For any newsie, four dollars was a lot of money to have sitting in their pockets, and Race was the last person he expected to win something like that. If he was being honest, he felt rather proud, barely able to keep a smile off of his face as Race celebrated in front of him. However, he was slightly confused as to why Race stopped in the middle of his day to tell him of all people.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” He asked, reaching out to grab Race’s arms to steady him. Race’s smile faltered only slightly as he put the money back in the tiny bag and shrugged.

“Why not? I was excited. You’s my only friend over here.”

Spot tried to ignore the the way his heartbeat picked up at that statement.

“And,” Race continued, his smile returning, “I felt like I owed ya a bit. For, you know, always lettin’ me on your turf.”

Spot perked up at this. “Owed me?” He repeated dumbly, sitting back down on his crate, one knee up with his elbow resting on it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Race said, digging back into the bag to pull out half of his winnings. “Here.” He held out his hand, the money shining in the sun, and looked at Spot pointedly. “Take it.”

Spot, for once in his life, was completely lost for words, staring at the hand in front of him. He made no move to accept the money. Instead, he looked up at Race and said “You bein’ serious right now?”

Race nodded earnestly, moving his hand closer to Spot. “Yeah. I figured since, you know, I come over here all the time. And you always talk to me… And you’s my friend.”

Spot had to try extremely hard to pretend that Race’s words weren’t making him feel a load of feelings that he had tried to repress a long time ago. Gulping, he took a shaky breath and stood up, reaching forward to close Race’s fingers around the money. “I can’t take this.” He said softly, keeping his hand closed around Race’s fist, just to take advantage of the contact.

Race blinked. “What?”

“I’m not takin’ your money.” Spot repeated, finally pushing Race’s fist away. “You won it.”

“Yeah, so?” Race sounded offended, his smile now gone, replaced with a look of confusion. “I won it, it’s my money, and I wanna give it to you.”

“No.” Spot said again, firmer this time. “You don’t need’ta give me anything. Lettin’ you in here is just good for business between me n’ Manhattan. You don’t— You don’t owe me.”

Admittedly, the amount Race was attempting to give him wasn’t huge, and Spot would likely blow through it in a heartbeat buying candy for some of his younger boys that could use something to cheer them up. However, it was the gesture that meant the most. Race spent half of his time over at Sheepshead trying to win and when he finally did, he brought it over to Spot. His friend.

Spot scoffed in his head. Race’s friend. Maybe he didn’t want to be Race’s friend. Maybe he wanted something he couldn’t have.

Race seemed lost for words as he looked down at the money in his hands. He snorted and shook his head, eventually dropping the coins back into the pouch and pocketing it. “Well, this was a big ol’ waste of time.” He mumbled, his crestfallen face making Spot’s heart wrench. An awkward silence passed between the two boys, and Spot was seriously considering taking the money that Race had worked so hard for, just to see him smile, but his pride overpowered his common sense.

“Um,” Race finally broke the silence with his disappointed tone, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking pointedly away from Spot. “I’ll uh, I guess I’ll see ya around.”

He paused for a moment, glancing back at Spot, evidently waiting for him to say something profound and amazing, preferably along the lines of “Don’t go, Race!” or “I’d love to take the money and buy you dinner, Race!” but he knew that would never come. When Spot said nothing and instead turned his eyes down in embarrassment, Race turned on his heel and trudged off, his bag of unsold papes swinging pathetically behind him.

…

The next day, Race seriously considered avoiding Brooklyn all together, his mind unable to focus on anything but the rejection he faced the day before. Frustration built up inside of him as he got ready to start the day. It’s not like he asked Spot to marry him or anything, so why did it feel like Spot had taken his feelings like, stuffed them in a tiny box, and crushed the box?

After successfully avoiding any questioning from Davey, who had become this annoying older brother-weird uncle-figure to most of the Manhattan newsies, Race decided he didn’t want to be stared at suspiciously for his fowl mood all day and began the trek across the bridge. If he ran into Spot, he would just ignore him. He could do that. He had SOME self control after all.

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him. If Spot talks to me, just ignore him’ Race repeated over and over again in his head as he got closer and closer to the end of the bridge, his mood mirroring the dark clouds already beginning to cover the clouds.

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him.’

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him.

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him.

‘If Spot talks to me, just—‘

“Race!”

“Huh? Oh, hi, Spot.”

Shit.

Race bit his lip and scolded himself for breaking the only rule he had come up with on the way over just because he was distracted. Spot was standing right in front of him, slightly off balance, chest heaving, and hat missing, clearly having run over to Race as soon as he had seen him on the bridge. Race felt a pang of satisfaction as he noticed Spot flushed and struggling to catch his breath. It was very unlike him to run after anyone, meaning Race, if anything, was at least slightly important to the younger boy.

“Race, I” Spot panted, straightening up and running a hand through his hair, “I didn’t think you were, uh, gonna come… here… um, today.” He stuttered like a nervous child, suddenly remembering that he had made no plan of what he was going to say to Race once he saw him.

Race raised an eyebrow at him, deciding it was probably best to break his ‘don’t speak to Spot’ rule. “And?” He asked, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Spot opened his mouth, but no words came out. Race rolled his eyes and pushed past him, planning to lose him in the crowd of people going about their days and get to his selling point as soon as possible.

“Race, wait!” Spot called after him, jogging slightly to keep the other boy in his sight.

“No.” Race called back. “I’m gonna go win more money and NOT give it to you.”

He knew the response was childish at best, but his feelings were hurt and he knew Spot probably didn’t care, but he was still going to make it known.

Spot finally caught up to Race after spitting a few vulgar words at a man who simply wouldn’t move, and caught him by the wrist. Race huffed and turned around, wrenching it out of the other boy’s grip.

“Leave me alone.”

“No,” Spot said, looking around at the people surrounding them on the streets in frustration. He definitely didn’t want an audience for this. Glancing around quickly, he spotted a store with no customers milling around the front, meaning the back would be even more desolate. Picking up Race’s wrist again, he yanked him over to behind the weathered brick building and pushed him up against the wall.

Race fought against him, albeit half-heartedly, letting himself be pressed against the wall, but refusing to wipe the scowl from his face. “Go away, Spot.” He spat, knowing he was taking a great risk denying Spot what he wanted, especially as Spot could have him beat to the ground in a matter of seconds.

“Just hold still for a second!” Spot snapped, pinning Race’s shoulders in place. “I’m tryin’ to apologize!”  

“Oh, wow!” Race cried, sarcasm evident in his tone. “Spot Conlon wants to apologize to me? How lucky am I?”

Spot glared at him. “I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt your feelings.”

The statement was surprisingly honest and was enough to have Race’s mouth snap shut. He stared at Spot with a blank expression on his face, allowing the other to continue hesitantly.

“You just… offered me the money that you worked for and I ain’t no bum who needs your charity.” Spot continued, making sure to still maintain an ounce of his dignity within the apology. “Plus, you earned it. It’s yours. I wasn’t tryin’ to make you feel… I dunno, bad, or whatever.”

Race chewed on his tongue for a moment, taking in the very Spot-like apology. The younger boy’s hands were still gripping his shoulders, and he was much closer than Race was used to, but he was not going to let himself be distracted.

“You was a jerk.” He declared, his hands gripping the strap of his bag full of papes. “I wasn’t tryin’ to give you charity. I was tryin’…” He paused. What had he been trying to do? Win Spot’s affection? He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and thought for a second before finishing with “I was tryin’ to make us even. You let me sell in Brooklyn at no price.”

“The reward is that I gets Manhattan on my side if we’s ever got a problem. It’s a business negotiation.” Spot responded coolly, still not moving any farther from Race. “You’s gettin’ all soft on me.”

“I ain’t gettin’ soft!” Race argued, frowning deeply. Spot only laughed. Race continued frowning as the other boy threw his head back. “It ain’t that funny.

“You IS gettin’ soft, Higgins, don’t deny it. Comin’ over here to give ol’ Spotty a gift yesterday and all.” Spot teased, finally dropping his hands from Race’s shoulders. His apology was turning into the perfect opportunity to poke fun at the other boy. 

“Shut up!” Race whined. “I was tryin’ to be a good person, somethin’ you wouldn’t understand.”

Spot only laughed more, finally stopping to look at Race in a way that made his cheeks flush. The affection in Spot’s face was unmissable, and Race wasn’t prepared for the way his heartbeat seemed to amplify in his ears and his hands began to sweat. In order to save himself some embarrassment, he huffed and turned his head to the side, staring pointedly down toward the other end of the street. He expected the altercation to be done at that, but then Spot spoke again.

“You’re so cute when you pout like that.”

Race was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. His head whipped around and he stared at Spot incredulously. “Excuse me?”

Spot didn’t falter. “When you do that pout thing. It’s cute.”

Race thought his knees might give out. “I ain’t cute.”

“You are.” Spot argued. Race felt like his skin was on fire and he fought with all of his might to keep a smile from appearing on his face. He wondered how many times he could get Spot to admit that he thought he was cute before he passed out.

“I ain’t cute and you’s being a jerk.” He retorted, pushing himself off the wall only to be pushed back by Spot, who was now hovering over him.

“Says the one who tried to give me money.”

“I was tryin’ to make us even!” Race cried, attempting to ignore the way Spot’s hands were gripping his hips and his breath was hitting Race’s cheek. “I thought it was a nice thing to do.”

“It was nice, but…” Spot whispered, pressing Race further into the wall, if possible. The other boy raised his eyebrows, his heart beating so loud he thought Spot might just be able to hear it. He almost didn’t want Spot to finish his sentence, for fear that he might vomit and ruin the strange, yet amazing moment the two were sharing. However, Spot finished it anyway by saying “You could’ve paid me in a different way.”

Race felt as if he had been slapped in the face, his whole body heating up at Spot’s words and his heart basically throwing itself out of his ribcage and climbing up into his throat. He wanted to cry and scream at the same time; he was unable to believe that Spot was actually here, pinning him against a wall, suggesting that they do things Race had only ever dreamt about.

“You want me to pay you?” He repeated Spot’s words carefully, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. “But… how?”

He knew exactly how, but he wanted to hear Spot say it. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that Spot thought about him in the way that Race did. He wanted to know that Spot spent countless hours analyzing their every interaction, that he daydreamed about Race, that he dealt with endless days of inner turmoil over having feelings for someone he thought he could never have.

Spot grinned back at him, his hands squeezing Race’s hips, pressing his own body ever closer so that they were aligned from chest to toe. He waited a painstakingly long time to answer Race, watching how the blush rose on his cheek’s, how his dark eyes sparkled, even when it was cloudy, and how he kept wetting his lips with his tongue and oh god his lips.

“Kiss me.”

Race wasted no time at all. He shot forward and closed the gap between them, melting into Spot’s touch as soon as he felt the warmth of his mouth. Spot responded eagerly, moving a hand from Race’s waist to behind his neck, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Race’s hands moved from the strap of his bag to the front of Spot’s shirt, grabbing fistfuls of fabric to pull him closer and to steady himself so that he didn’t collapse onto the ground and dissolve into a puddle of emotion. They kissed each other as if they had something to prove, Spot biting at Race’s lower lip before running his tongue along it, making the boy pinned to the wall moan softly. Race’s hands were everywhere from Spot’s shirt, to his hair, to his back, desperate to show the other boy how much he wanted this.

When they finally broke apart, they took each other in, Race laughing at the spit visible on Spot’s chin. “Gross.” He giggled, making Spot roll his eyes and wipe his mouth with his sleeve. A very romantic gesture, in Race’s opinion.

“Shut up.” Spot mumbled, the hand still placed behind Race’s neck running up to card through his hair, knocking his hat off. “You should stay in Brooklyn.”

Race laughed. “Forever?”

“I meant tonight.” Spot answered seriously, pressing another quick kiss to Race’s lips. “Just for the night. Then we’ll be even”

Race smiled at him.

“I think I can make that work.”

~~~~~~~~~~

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[comingouttoteach]

Week 20

Whoosh another one down. It’s been a tough one. My stress levels were high over half term. The 90-odd assignments got marked, the lessons got planned 48 hours in advance, the Year 12 SOW has taken flight, and EPS began to shape up. I only had one whole day off (a hangover; my first real one in at least two years) but I did get to frolic in the Welsh hills. 

My week started with the dreaded (I know this shouldn’t be an adjective I use for students but it’s taking its toll now) Year 7s on Monday period 1. I introduced them to Shakespeare and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, gauged prior knowledge, played them the first part of the animated tales version and then we drew a character/plot diagram on the board together and they copied it. I didn’t give any praise or RTL warnings (oops). On the riotousness scale (RS) (where 10 is the Stonewall riots of 1969) it was about a 7. The next lesson was about the same, except for the part where I showed them the whole 25 minute film and paused at points for them to do a gap fill. They’re instantly absorbed when there is a film to watch or a story to listen to, even the ones with ADHD. The last lesson of the week, where I gave them assessment feedback, a plot recap quiz and we read Egeus’ speech, was an 8/9. I was hungry, exhausted and fed up. I stopped the lesson halfway through and got them all to leave the room and line up outside in silence. I (thought I) gave them a right telling off, however the cover teacher that was observing me said I could try shouting at them (maybe I can’t shout?). I reiterated expectations, referenced their parents’ evening (which was the night before!) and expressed my disappointment. I told them that anyone disrupting the lesson henceforth would get an RTL warning/sent to RTL. I did give out quite a few warnings and some of them should have gone to RTL but there is still some resistance to it inside me. The cover teacher also held them back (it was just before lunch) for five minutes. Her tone was severe and deadly serious; it worked wonders. I think if I get the right tone I won’t have to shout. This coming week there are going to be changes. I much prefer this topic and I want them to enjoy it too. I want to get them acting, I want to get them doing some set design and, most of all, I want to impart my passion for close analysis. An impossible feat? Well firstly, I have no option; that’s what they’ll be doing for their assignment. Secondly, I believe it a satisfying activity, once you get the hang of it. They’ve had some experience of writing P(oint) E(vidence) A(nalysis) R(eader) paragraphs. Watch this space. My behaviour reward system that I’m rolling out this week looks like this:

Every student’s name is listed down the left-hand side. The weeks and dates for each lesson are across the top. This is how it will work:

- It will be printed out on A3 and stuck with blu-tack at the front of the room every lesson.  - Each lesson every student starts out with 5 positive behaviour points. They can get more by behaving well, trying hard and being kind, but the baseline is five. - If someone shouts out, disrupts others, talks over peers or me or generally misbehaves then they instantly lose the five points. - If they do any of the above a second time they get a warning. - If they do any of the above a third time then they will go straight to RTL. - 5 isn’t the limit; students can gain more points during each lesson. - At the end of the term I will reward the top 5 scores with... (TBC, maybe an Easter egg). - If the total for the whole class is over 200 then they get to watch the film in the last lessons of term. 

If I had presented this to myself last September I would have thought it cruel but what is crueler is the fact that there are many in the class who behave exceptionally well and try really hard but are forced to endure the disruptiveness of their peers every lesson. I am doing this for the ones that stare at me with repressed frustration, wishing they could just get on with the lesson. 

Moving on, transactional writing with Year 10 has been my most positive start to term. We’ve done formal and informal letters. This involved getting the most disruptive boy in the class to write a formal complaint letter to a head teacher about the questionable behaviour of their students as they leave school (the irony). We also analysed a formal letter written by a Year 9 student at the school who was prominent in organising the Bristol school strike for climate change. It was a letter she’d written to the head. They really engaged with it and I think I did a good job of remaining apolitical despite my absolute admiration of the girl (who is in my Year 9 class). These lessons have mostly been positive, with just a few useful suggestions form the teacher, such as:

- constant reminders that what they produce in their book will be their revision guide next year.  - giving them longer tasks to work on and less teacher talk/direction. - ensuring homework is challenging enough. 

Next week I’m getting them to write one more letter then we’re on to reviews. 

Year 9 are also onto non-fiction, with a focus on news articles. I nearly turned over the whole of the first lesson into a debate as to whether religious documents (Bible, Quran) are fiction or non-fiction, but resisted. I also gave them their essay feedback. A different class teacher (whose assessments I marked) had advised blind marking, however, this did not work so well for this Year 9 set. There were a few shocks, good and bad; one girl was nearly crying (bad kind). Most people’s grades were ran in line with grades they’d already received. I thought I’d done a good job but there is no way I will blind mark a class again unless I know them back to front, side to side and up and down (The teary girl’s essay will be marked again by the class teacher...). 

I fear I am not getting the most out of this class and feel the pressure, quite intensely, of their ‘top set’ status. They are all lovely, which makes behaviour actually all the more harder to manage; I’m too nice to them. Although it is not really being nice if it means they aren’t learning as much as they could be, is it? I am going to plan a lesson, from start to finish, with the class teacher, in order to get some practical help. 

I only saw my Year 8s once this week. I introduced the topic for the term: nature poetry (which apparently is boring). We spent a whole lesson understanding what all the different poetic terms are. It was a 5 on the RS. They are all fully in control of themselves and their actions (unlike the Year 7s) but they have a tendency to go off task at the slightest opportunity. Their lack of enthusiasm for the topic is also a concern. How can I make nature poetry cool? Maybe I will do my old ‘recite a poem’ trick again. 

I am still finding being in the school quite challenging. I’m very aware that I need to somehow step up my game. However, I feel as though I’m already taking five steps at once and every day is a tower block. I need more time in the day and more confidence. That would do the trick.