#open call for In the heights movie

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

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[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

TAKE CARE

synopsis: sylus comes home after a run in, wounded. and you decide to take care of him, in more ways than one.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgar language, mentions of wounds and blood, mentions of bruises, praise kink, spanking, m oral receiving .

wc- 2.4k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

9:26 pm

Sylus is late.

You sit on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching a movie. A random romance movie filling the empty house with sound as you wait for Sylus to get back home from work.

You begin to worry, he called you around an hour ago, saying he’d be on his way.

Because of course, he had to hear your sweet voice. But he’s late.

You fight the urge to call him or spam his phone, even though you know he doesn’t care, he prefers it.

You sigh as you repeatedly check the time 9:40 comes around and you decide to send him a text.

You: Baby, are you alright? I didn’t wanna bother you, but I’m getting worried.

You set down your phone and lock it before returning your attention to the movie. As you see the couple on screen all you can think of is Sylus.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year and a half, the man you are in love with wholeheartedly. Reaching down you begin to twiddle with the collarbone necklace he bought you. Your phone dings and you nearly jump in your seat.

It’s Sylus.

Sy: I got caught up kitten. Late approach, I’m in the car right now. I’m sorry, give me 5 minutes or so, see you then.

You sigh of relief but can’t stop to wonder what caught him so late.

Not even three minutes pass and you hear a car door shut, you jump out of your seat this time. Haven’t seen Sylus since 2 pm, you rush to the door and unlock it. You quickly open it and run out of the mansion to him.

Sylus locks eyes with you as he heads towards the house, he braces himself for a jumping hug and chuckles.

You jump into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck as his wraps around your back. The height difference allows your legs to dangle.

He holds you until you decide to let go, knowing you love to be clingy, and he doesn’t mind at all. “Someone missed me?” He mutters against your hair. You drop yourself to the ground and finally get a look at him.

His clothes were bloody and he had a couple of bruises scattered on his face and arms. You feel your heart stop as you look at him.

“Sy, what happened…” You whisper as you reach up and touch his face.

He winces as you near a bruise. “A run in. I’m alright sweetie, come on.” He chuckles, brushing it off and leads you inside, locking the car with a remote as we head in.

He opens the door and closes it behind us as we step into the hallway.

“Sy… Let me look. I can help, you know I enjoy taking care of you.” You look up at him as he takes off his combat boots.

“Baby, I’m okay. But if you want to, I won’t deny you.” Sylus chuckles before taking your hand and leading you further into the mansion.

“Bathroom, the first aid kit is in there.” You squeeze his hand and he nods, leading you there.

Once you’re both in the bathroom, he switches on the light and sits on the closed toilet lid, to allow you to get to him with ease. His crimson eyes look up at you as he finally gets a good look at you.

“Pretty girl.” He says with no shame and you blush as you playfully roll your eyes. You turn and open a cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit.

Moving back over to Sylus, you stand in front of him. “Let’s get your shirt off, the blood is gonna only stain more the longer it sits.” You reach to take off his shirt and he nods but takes it off for you. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lets you continue.

“Sweetie, I’m not worried about the shirt. You and I both know I have enough money to buy a million of them.” He laughs, his deep voice echoing in the bathroom.

“Yeah you’re right, but still.” I chuckle and look down at his broad chest. Dried blood scatters across his skin and it tugs at my heart, I know his wounds heal themselves but it still upsets me.

Sylus watches your eyes waver and he takes your hand. “Sweetie, you know no one can hurt me right? No one can kill me either, only you can grant me death. Don’t worry okay?” He rubs your hand in his, and you nod.

“Sylus, I just… I don’t like to see you like this.” You sigh and you pull away for a quick second to grab a washcloth, wetting it.

“I know you don’t, and it makes me happy that you care so much about me. But they’re healed for the most part, other than the bruises. ” Sylus watches as you bring the wet cloth to his bloody chest, wiping gently.

“Bruises take longer don’t they?” You whisper as you focus and he hums in agreement.

“The one on your face Sy… They punched your pretty face.” I look at him and sigh as my eyes land on the huge bruise on his jaw.

He chuckles at your silent compliment. “You can always make me pretty again until it heals.” His eyes scan over your features, appreciating the beauty of you.

“Would you let me do your makeup?” Smiling at him, I stop wiping his chest as it’s wiped clean.

“Wouldn’t mind, if it made you happy I wouldn’t object it. You know I’d do anything you asked me to.” Sylus smiles and glances as you grab a hot pad from the first aid kit.

“So if I asked you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?” You joke as you press ever so gently to his jawbone bruise and he closes his eyes briefly.

“Mhm. Anything.” Sylus mutters as he takes in the heat. His words make you smile ear to ear, although you’d never ask him to jump off a cliff.

“Baby?” He speaks up all of a sudden and it catches you off guard.

“Yeah, Sy?” You look down at him with curiosity, his arm patting your hip.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, your legs are gonna start hurting. And this time it won’t be from me.” He chuckles, and you nod realizing that your legs truly do hurt from standing so long.

You sit on Sylus’ lap and he leans back to give you room to continue. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Does the bruise feel any better?” You look at Sylus, running a hand through his silver hair. He leans into your touch and nods.

“Got a couple on my arms but you don’t have to worry about those. The only one that hurts is the jaw.” He smiles softly before squeezing your hip.

You nod and giggle, “I know I just sat down, but my work is done.” He gives you a disapproving look and shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t.” Sylus smirks, and you lift a brow.

“What exactly did I miss?” You scan over his face and torso once more, checking for any marks you might’ve missed. You hear his low chuckle and your attention is brought back to his face.

“My lips sweetie.” He whispers before gripping your face in his palm and kissing you. He holds you ever so gently in his grasp and you wrap your arms around his neck like you did earlier.

His lips were tender and soft against yours, tasting mint on him.

Sylus slowly pulls away before giving you a small peck. Whispering he squeezes you again, “All mine…”

“All yours.” You repeat and he smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips once again. He quickly stands, wrapping your legs around his waist he leaves the bathroom with you.

“Sylus!” You giggle. “Where are you taking me?” You continue to laugh as he props you up higher.

He smiles at the tone of your voice. “To bed kitten.” Sylus kicks open the bedroom door and carries you over to the bed before laying you down and climbing on top of you.

“You know… There’s one more bruise.” He smirks as he hovers over you. Your eyes widen but then you catch on.

“Where exactly?” You chuckle and he holds his cocky expression before leaning down and grinding against you.

“Mmm, I think it might be there… Wanna check for me, sweetie?” Sylus’ hardness is evident as he grinds one more time. Honestly, you were shocked he got hard so fast. Yet again you were on his lap, and just looking at you gives him a semi.

“I’ll check…” You nod and he bites his bottom lip between his teeth before moving off of you. You allow him to situate himself to lie down on the bed, his upper body propped up by pillows.

You look down at the tent in his pants, gently nudging it with your hand, earning a hiss. “Where’d this giant bruise come from Sy?” You play along with his act and he smirks.

“Mmm, think from some pretty girl.” He looks at you his red eyes darker than ever.

“She must’ve been beautiful.” You smile and unzip the two zippers on his pants, his chest heaving with anticipation as you do so.

“Yeah, she is… Such a beauty.” Sylus whispers as you nudge on his pants, he lifts his hips enough for you to slide them off. But to his surprise, you yank off his boxers at the same time.

His cock springs out and slaps against his stomach, thick and dripping for you. He groans as the cool air hits his head and you giggle.

You run your fingers along his shaft and pretend to inspect. His brows furrowed as he bites back groans from the lightest touch. The most dangerous and wanted man in Philos falling apart from the slightest touch.

“i swear there’s pain from something…” Sylus tangles his hands in your locks and smirks.

“Maybe I need to check another way?” You look up at him before bringing his member to your mouth, immediately taking it in.

“Fuck baby…” He groans, low in his throat as you take him in, tongue rubbing against his tip, before you pull it out. You give kitten licks to the swollen red tip, and he hisses.

“Living up to your nickname huh? Shit…” He finally lets out a moan. His moans are the most beautiful thing you’ve heard and it never fails to make you pool between your thighs. You give the head a few more kisses before taking it back in.

He moans louder when you wrap your hand around the base that you can’t fit, stroking in time with your bobs. “Just like that… So good.”

You move your hand off his shaft and to his balls, gently fondling them. “Y/n baby… if you keep doing that I’ll cum.” He warns you and you continue.

He groans and feels himself get closer to the edge as you massage and suck him. “Baby…” He moans one last time before he grunts and finishes in your mouth.

His taste is something you so desperately craved, ropes shooting down your throat you moan around his length. He squeezes his eyes shut as that causes him to shoot out more cum.

Pulling you to him he kisses you, groaning at the taste of himself on your lips. His tongue slides into your mouth, he brings you to straddle him. He lowers you and you gasp, feeling his cock against your bare pussy. When the fuck did he take my clothes off? You think to yourself.

And then you realize, his evol. “Sylus!” You scold him.

“Had to baby… Couldn’t wait.” He laughs and lowers you down into him, his girth stretching you to maximum capacity. Thank god you were wet enough.

He groans and squeezes your hips, leaving bruises of their own as he attempts to bottom out. “So tight…” Sylus growls and thrusts up into you gathering more wetness.

You loosen around him and moan as he slowly thrusts up into you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Meet me halfway baby…” He whispers and you begin to bounce, meeting his thrusts. The sounds of your thighs slapping against his fill the room.

“Sylus…” You moan his name and he groans.

“You’re all mine baby…” He growls.

You bounce faster and he smirks as he finally sees all his length make its way into you, head bruising your cervix. He bulges into your stomach and he places a hand on it letting out a needy moan.

“I fucking love when you ride me kitten… Always do so good. Look so pretty” He watches you intensely, every face you make engraved in his brain.

“Sy… My legs hurt.” You whisper and he nods.

“That’s alright, here let me do it for you. Let me take care of you.” Sylus takes over immediately and thrusts up into you, lifting himself off the bed to hit deeper. “Just relax for me, let me make you feel good.”

You feel yourself tightening and you moan louder, feeling your walls clench him he moans. “Gonna cum for me pretty? Let go for me.” He kisses you sloppily but passionately, intertwining your hands as he resonates with you. Your hands glow and intense pleasure courses through the both of you.

Your back arches and you come undone on him, essence sliding down his shaft as he slows his movements, making love to you as you finish.

Sylus moans and fills you with his cum not even a minute later, painting your womb while he lets out a string of pretty moans. “Fucking hell… I love you so much.”

His thrusts finally stop and he stays situated inside of you while he softens, you both pant heavily and he rubs your back before lifting you. His cock slips out with a wet pop and he returns you to his chest.

You whine at the lack of fullness and he smirks. “Miss me that bad already?” Sylus leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Always.” You mumble and he chuckles.

“Always take such good care of me, sweetie. My pretty girl.” He pushes hair behind your ear that had fallen onto your face.

“Likewise…” You giggle and he playfully smacks your ass.

“Now let’s go shower, yeah?” He smirks as he looks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No funny business.” You laugh and get off his lap to stand beside the bed, legs wobbling.

“Just gonna take care of you. Aftercare~” He gives you a mischievous grin and leads you into the bathroom.

You mentally curse yourself as you prepare yourself for more “care.”

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[the-mortuary-witch]

TYPES OF DEVOTIONAL ACTS

FOR LOVE/BEAUTY DEITIES: 

Skin care.

Do your makeup (or embrace your natural beauty).

Paint your nails.

Dress up a little.

Write love letters.

Masterbate.

Change your bed sheets/clean up your room/space.

Listen to love songs/songs about sex/loving yourself.

Having sex.

Read romance novels.

Play interactive romance novels/romance games (stardew valley, dream daddy, The Arcana, etc).

FOR WAR DEITIES: 

Listen to angry music.

Advocate for yourself.

Reinforce your boundaries.

Cut out the negative people in your life.

Feel your anger, recognize your anger, don't force it down, but don't lash out to others. "I am angry. This thing made me angry. It's okay that I am angry, it is not okay to cause harm to those who do not deserve it." Etc etc.

Read biographies or accounts of war, or dystopian novels (accounts of war like Night by Elie Weisel, dystopian like Divergent or Hunger Games).

Learn self defence.

Learn about how your area was used in past wars.

Play fighting games (call of duty, mortal combat, etc).

FOR MUSIC/ART DEITIES: 

Create! Learn an instrument, draw, etc.

Write a song.

Paint for them.

Listen to experimental or storytelling music. All music is art, so find a vibe for your deity.

Take pictures of nature, art is everywhere in nature, from the paintings on butterfly wings to the sunset.

Read/write poetry.

Read poetry books, or books about music or art (think biographies from musicians/artists, or books like Guitar Notes by Mary Amato or such) (guitar notes is a mid-grade book but it's the only one I could think of the name of).

Visit galleries or local shows, support local artists.

FOR WISDOM DEITIES: 

Read books, any type, but mostly classics like Sherlock Holmes or Jane Austen.

Watch documentaries.

Take free online courses on subjects that interest you.

Visit and support your local libraries and independently owned bookstores.

Find old unloved books at thrift stores.

Learn a new skill.

Listen to music from different time periods.

Visit museums.

Play strategy games (chess, supreme commander, etc).

Do puzzles.

FOR NATURE DEITIES: 

Raise a plant or a garden.

Listen to nature sounds, or music with nature sounds.

Observe nature persevering, vines crawling up a building, dandelions in cracks in the pavement.

Read wilderness guides.

Learn about your area's native flora and fauna.

Visit local parks.

Open windows and let the fresh air in.

Scavenge/forage (in safe areas).

Play cozy games (animal crossing in a good example).

FOR DEATH DEITIES: 

Visit local graveyards/cemeteries (don't forget to be mindful and conscious of others and the spirits there).

Listen to music by artists who have passed on, or music about death.

Learn about different cultures' funeral practices.

Safely move roadkill out of the road, leave a small offering if possible (again, do so SAFELY).

Read books that have death themes (like Edgar Allen Poe, Wuthering Heights, or They Both Die In The End).

Think about how you want your body to be treated in death. Do you want to be buried, cremated, donated to science?

FOR HOME/HEARTH DEITIES: 

Read cozy books.

Play cozy games (sims, animal crossing).

Make your house seem warm and inviting to visitors.

Learn how to bake, either from scratch or a box, both are acceptable.

Learn how to sew or knit or crochet.

Watch cozy movies.

Light candles if you don't have a fireplace.

Listen to soft music.

Visit your friends or family and bring them baked goods.

FOR STRONG PARENTAL DEITIES:

Take care of your friends. 

Make sure your friends eat and are drinking water, do the same for yourself. 

Tell the people in your life you love them, you're proud of them, they're doing a good job. 

Read books about found family, self help books. 

Listen to music that makes you feel safe and loved. 

Carry a figure that represents them. 

Take care of yourself the way that they would take care of you.

Cook for yourself. Make yourself feel safe and loved.

FOR HEALTH DEITIES: 

Carry bandaids, Tylenol, and extra pads/tampons for people who may need them.

Learn about the human body and how it works.

Take your meds.

Make art out of old pill bottles for them.

Know and respect your limits.

Watch documentaries about doctors or health sciences.

Research holistic remedies and see if any might be of use to you (DO NOT SUBSTITUTE THEM FOR MODERN MEDICINE) be careful of misinformation, and any interactions that certain things might have with your meds.

FOR SEA/OCEAN/WATER DEITIES: 

Have a small fountain in your home (you can find them at some dollar stores, or if you're mechanically savvy, make your own).

Salts in your baths.

Visit local streams, creeks, rivers, or beaches.

Read about marine life/river life.

Read about your local water sources, learn about the water cycle.

Collect rain water.

Stand in the rain, feel it on you, let it ground you.

Listen to music about water/with water sounds/the ocean/the beach

Have pictures in your home/space of the ocean.

If you visit the ocean, collect some water and sand and seashells (make sure you follow your own personal gratitude system) to have in your home.

Don't fret if you're landlocked, your practice is valid, you don't need to be at the ocean all the time to feel it's presence. The rain clouds blow in from hundreds of miles away. The ocean is always with you.

Drink water.

Carry a small vial of water with you (could be ocean water, river water, or tap water with or without salt in it) you can keep it in your car, in your pocket, or wear it as a necklace, etc.

Carry a small vial of salt with you (could be hand harvested from the ocean, table salt, or any kind of off the shelf salt).

FOR SKY/WIND/AIR DEITIES: 

Let the air in, open windows when possible

Offerings of air, such as burning incense, smoking tobacco, or using essential oils.

Reading poetry, mythology, or other writings about the deity.

Let yourself be free.

Sit outside for a few minutes a day, or longer.

Playing wind instruments, like flutes or panpipes.

Making offerings of feathers, wings, or other things related to birds or mythical sky beings.

Participating in sky-related activities, such as skydiving, flying, or hot-air balloon rides, to feel closer to the sky deity.

Building or using a wind chime or wind sculpture to connect with the energies of the sky and the wind.

Engaging in outdoor activities like biking, sailing, or kite flying to appreciate the gift of air and sky.

Flying kites or sky lanterns. 

FOR TRAVELER DEITIES: 

Pick something up for them on your travels, could be a rock, could be a souvenir.

Put a symbol of them in your car.

Wear shoes that are good for walking.

Drive/walk around to explore new places (you don't even have to leave your town).

Take backroads.

Be a respectful tourist in every new place that you visit, don't be afraid of looking stupid.

FOR QUEER DEITIES:

Educate yourself on queer history.

Express yourself truthfully.

Listen to queer music.

Read queer books.

Embrace your identity.

Read queer poetry, like that of Sappho.

Keep yourself safe in spaces that are less open to identities.

Support local queer owned businesses or artists.

Queer art.

Love yourself and take care of yourself.

Go to drag shows.

Relish in the fact that queerness has been around since the very first civilizations.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Fall of an Empire

Summary: The fall of an empire began because of the love for a woman.

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader (romantic), Emperor Caracalla x Reader (platonic)

A/N: I will be honest, wish I had written this as soon as I left theaters but it's as good as I could make it. 😅

Warning: Major character deaths and some movie spoilers if you haven't seen it yet

Divider credits @saradika

It was never meant for her.

To most onlookers, it became quite obvious that should anything ever happen to the empress, that it would not take long for the twin emperors to descend into madness. The two had a penchant for violence, one that was difficult for them to be ever satisfied and somehow it came to be that Geta, was consumed by the love and affection he held for his wife from the moment their eyes met on the day they were wed.

While Caracalla viewed her with a brotherly love, calling her sister the day they met and appreciating her all the more when she gifted him with his prized monkey Dondas. Her gentle but firm hand was quick to soften the temper of the brothers, there was still a madness that brewed beneath the surface and all knew, it would all turn to ruin should anything befall the young empress.

She shouldn't have been there that day.

Still in the early months, the empress' pregnancy was an open secret amongst everyone in the senate and many were cautious to incur the wrath of their emperors as their protectiveness seemed to reach even greater heights than was the norm. Her recent symptoms had her spending much more time in the royal couples chambers, hiding away to let the nauseousness abate. The same symptom that had kept her from being by the side of her husband and brother by law during the first initial days of games in the colosseum meant to celebrate the conquest of Numidia.

The fateful day had begun like most in its mundanity for the young Emperor Geta and his lovely wife (Y/N), both rousing slowly with the rise of Helios in the sky with their legs tangled together and in a tender warm embrace as they had slept. Geta was careful to cradle his wife in his arms, his hands languidly caressing her small bump that had only recently begun to show in recent weeks.

"How is the little one treating you this morning, beloved?" Geta whispered between soft kisses to her neck.

Stretching tiredly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, "Much better than usual. I think the concoction made by the healer has finally had an effect because I actual feel like joining you and Caracalla today."

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. "There's no need for you to join us if you aren't feeling up to the task. I can come up with another excuse if needed."

"Stop fussing, my love" she giggled. "I truly feel leagues better and the gladiators will be fighting by water today, do you think I would want to miss such a feat?"

His brow creased in uncertainty. He knew that if his wife was truly not up to the task of being by his side that she would make it known. But there was an uneasiness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

He gently untangled himself from their loving embrace, quickly dressing himself in a robe and took strides to the jeweled chest atop of her vanity, clutching the box to his chest and returning to her side. Carefully, Geta helped his wife put on her jewelry and pressing a kiss to her hands or lips for every adornment that he placed on her.

"Your well being is my top priority," he said kneeled by her side. "The moment that you feel anything amiss, we leave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my love" she conceded with a smile.

Geta wasn't given a chance to say anything more as the doors to their chambers were pushed open by none other than Caracalla. The younger brother giggling in amusement when he stepped in.

"Lovely morrow for a bit of violence and blood, wouldn't you say brother? Will my radiant sister join us at last or has your little parasite incapacitated her once more?"

"I will be with both of you, little brother" (Y/N) said gently. "And please refrain from calling your niece or nephew a parasite, you wouldn't want to upset them before they have even arrived."

Caracalla waved her off and smiled, "The little parasite can complain when they're older. Until then, I can call them whatever I like because they seem to enjoy making you suffer." He leaned down and spoke to the small bump, "You'll be an absolute menace, isn't that right little parasite?"

Geta huffed out in mild annoyance and began to push his brother out of the room, "You can make more complaints about my progeny later. My wife and I are still not dressed."

"Oh, I don't mind staying."

"We will see you in the colosseum brother," Geta said with a shove and closing the doors. When they were shut, he turned back to his wife. "Let us make haste then before he tries to come bother again."

It was chaos below in the arena, the barbarian Hanno had led his group of men into ramming their boat against the opposing side and there was so much to see that it all became difficult to track. Smoke from the flames burning the boat made the task near impossible, but it didn't stop the adrenaline from coursing the veins of the young emperors from the glimpses they could see.

"My love," the empress called to her husband in worry. "They're too close, it's too close. We must leave or take caution, the men and boats are too close."

"Don't make such a fuss, sister" Caracalla said but his gaze stayed on the carnage below. "Things are getting interesting."

Below their sight, Hanno had a crossbow in his hands with the clear intent of killing the General Acacius. The aforementioned man had no chance to warn his empress that was seated in front of him of the gladiators intentions.

It all happened so fast.

It was an accident.

The crossbow was jostled in Hanno's hands as the arrow was let loose and it struck dead center between the two emperors.

And into the empress' chest.

The two men screamed in horror, unused to the violence being so close and it having any true impact to them. Caracalla was hysterical as guards pulled him away; screeching, hitting, and calling for something to be done for his sister. While Geta was enraged as he tried to temper his emotions and pushing the guards aside.

"Everything will be alright, wife" Geta said as he held his wife's hand in his own that trembled. "We will bring the healer and then find the gladiator that is to be dealt with!"

The empress could not respond, choking on her blood as she tried to reach for her husbands face before her final breath left her body.

When she went limp in his grasp, there was no halting the enraged wail from Geta as he lost his beloved bride and unborn child in a single moment.

Nothing could stop the spiral of destruction that followed the demise of the empress.

It was General Acacius' fault as the arrow was meant for him.

It was Lucillas fault for birthing the bastard that did it.

It was their fault

It was THEIR fault

It was Geta's fault.

Or so Caracalla's mind was led to believe as he and his brother sought refuge away from the hordes of people that sought to remove them from their seats of power.

His beloved sister (Y/N) and her little parasite were gone because Geta had failed to protect them.

Dondas and he would soon follow if Geta was permitted to reign alongside him any longer.

With every slash, the voices calmed in Caracalla's mind, and it soothed him to see the same rivers of blood flow down his brother's chest just as he had seen happen to his lovely sister.

Geta although unwilling, was to be reunited with his wife and child.

Caracalla would join them soon enough.

[birdiewritessometimes]

Hiii!!! Could I please request something with Hotch where the reader works at the bau assisting with caseload but she just has like a mostly professional relationship with him but then when hotch takes Jack trick or treating they accidentally end up in her neighborhood and Jack insists on going up to her house?? I’m so obsessed with him like having to come to terms with his attraction to her🩷🩷 no worries if this isn’t your vibe but much love anyway!

Trick or Treat

A/N: Hiii! This was so cute, it was totally my vibe! I hope you like it and thank you so much for requesting! I'm sorry if it's alittle short tho <3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Themes/warnings: Fluff

Word count: 900-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

The stress was weighing down on Aaron Hotchner, it was Halloween, he knew Jack was waiting for him at home to go trick or treating. He was stuck in his office, trying to finish the reports from his latest case as quickly as possible. As he was reading through a report, he heard the familiar clicking of your heels as you neared the door to his office. A soft knock was heard on the open office door, as he looked up, he saw you there, a stack of reports in your arms.

“Please go home to Jack, Hotch, I’ll take care of the rest.” You said, a small smile on your face. He let out a tired sigh, closing the report he was reading.

“Are you sure? I did promise him to take him trick or treating.” He said as he surveyed you standing in his doorway. He would never admit it to himself, but you were beautiful as you stood there, the light from the bull pen illuminating you from behind, creating a halo of light around your silhouette.

“Of course! Take him trick or treating, I’ll read through these and file them.” You said as you now walked into his office, grabbing the reports that laid on his desk. Hotch rose from his seat, grabbing his coat before stopping in front of you.

“Thank you, y/n, really.” He said, a small smile on his tired face, before he left the office. You were left alone in his office, and you lingered for a moment, a smile on your face, before you went back to yours to sort the reports. It took you a couple of hours to read through and file the teams reports before you could make your way home. When you got home, you turned the light on your porch on, placed the big bowl of candy you had bough by the door and went to get more comfortable. You took a quick shower and changed into a pair of comfortable silk pyjamas, opting for comfort and style considering it was Halloween and it was inevitable that you needed to open your door. You poured a glass of wine and made yourself comfortable on your couch, putting on a movie. The doorbell rang a few times, kids trick or treating, and you saw some creative costumes. You were in the middle of the movie as the doorbell rang yet again. Placing your glass on the table and pausing the movie you went to the door and opened it.

“Trick or treat!” Came the small voice of none other that Jack, your boss’ son. He was dressed in a suit and tie; he looked remarkably like his dad. Your eyes travelled from Jack to his dad who stood there speechless. His eyes travelled over your form as you stood there, smiling at his son. He couldn’t deny it this time that you were absolutely beautiful, your hair was down, you were in your pyjamas and Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding on your night off. You crouched down to look Jack in the eyes.

“Who are you dressed as Jack?” You said, an amused smile on your face as you placed quite a lot of candy in his bag.

“I’m daddy!” He said, proudly making you chuckle, you could hear Aaron chuckle as well.

“Well, you’re just as handsome.” You said with a wink before you rose to your full height again, now coming face to face with your boss, whom you just called handsome. Jack turned around to his dad, happiness in his face.

“Did you hear that, daddy! I told you we needed to go to miss y/n’s house.” He said excitedly making you rise an eyebrow at the man before you. Aaron let out an embarrassed chuckle as he met your eyes.

“He insisted that we went to your house since we were in the neighbourhood.” Aaron said, a small smile on his handsome face.

“I’m sorry if we bothered you.” He then added, feeling slightly guilty to have interrupted your night, when you had helped him out just hours before.

“Nonsense! This was a really nice surprise.” You said, a soft smile on your face. Hotch’s heart did a leap when you directed that smile to his son, who was beaming up at you. You really were beautiful. He couldn’t stop the thought, like he usually did around the office. He couldn’t repress his attraction to you, not now when you were standing here in front of looking so soft and gentle, it was like you didn’t even witness the gruesome things your job entailed.

“You look beautiful.” He’d let it slip before he could control himself. He felt like ice water washed over him at his slip. Jack looked up at him with wide eyes and so did you, before your face broke out in a smile.

“Thank you.” You said, still smiling. You made some more small talk before Jack insisted on continuing, not wanting all the good candy to run out. With a smile you closed your door as Aaron and Jack started to make their way to your neighbours.

“Miss y/n is really pretty.” Jack said, in an honest way only a child knows. Aaron let out a chuckle.

“She is.” He confirmed, dreading the next time he needed to go into the office, needing to repress his attraction to you again.

[boysmentfs]

Gym Opening.

With the amazing @kylestfs

The time was 9 in the morning, Louis finished breakfast with his mother, since his father was currently on a business trip, he got up from the chair and washed his dishes, His mother looked at him with pride, she had raised a kind, cute and responsible boy.

"Okay mom, it's time for me to go to school because I don't want to be late" he approached his mom and gave his a kiss on the cheek while grabbing his backpack.

"Have a nice day, son!" His mother shouted as Louis left the house and headed to school, once he entered his friends greeted him and began to talk about movies and video games, until the bell rang, so everyone went to their classrooms.

The hours passed, Louis had lunch at school with his classmates, took some more classes and so the day went by and now the clock read 3 pm, Indicating that it was time to leave, the bells rang and so everyone began to gather their things and began to go home

"Hey Louis" his friend said as he ran up behind him and gave him a small pat on the back.

"What's up, John? Do you have something to tell me? I need to get home and start doing the homework the teacher's gave us."

"No, nothing, I just wanted to ask you if you would like us to go together" John commented.

"Is that it? No problem, I can go alone, you don't need to accompany me, I'm not a little kid." Louis started laughing

"Well, if you want it that way, no problem, see you tomorrow, take care!" John commented as he left school and headed home.

Louis closed his locker, put his backpack on his back and started walking towards his house, he left school and headed towards his house, as he was walking he passed near a new gym.

"Wow, another gym, we don't need more of those, we need more comic book stores" Louis muttered to himself And before he could take another step, someone behind him covered his eyes and pulled him into the gym.

Once Louis was inside, he felt himself being sat in a chair, his hands tied, and he could clearly hear the gym door being locked.

"Help! Who are you and what do you want from me?"

The guy who had blindfolded him removed the blindfold so that Louis could see who had "kidnapped" him.

When the blindfold was removed, he saw that he was inside the gym.

The light in the gym was somewhat warm but at the same time somewhat dark, The guy felt a little scared, he wanted to ask for help but he knew that the boy in front of him could knock him down quickly, In front of him was a tall, muscular, bearded guy, he looked like one of those guys people called "jocks" and was able to confirm it, since it gave off a smell... Strange.

"He smelled like sweat..." Louis murmured.

But an acidic sweat and he also smelled like some semen, the smell of the gym was very intense and that made he head spin, When he looked around there were some exercise machines, benches, weights and all that stuff.

"To start with... You might be wondering, Who am I? Why did I kidnap you, well, I'm shake, the owner of this new gym I am 30 years old and why did I kidnap you? Well, We don't need such disappointing and nerdy people in this world, ya know?"

Louis didn't know what he meant by that, he wanted to get up from the chair to hit him but... His hands were tied and also...

The height of both was very obvious, the boy was super small next to the muscular guy, the nerd was barely 1'45 while the boy in front of him seemed to be 1'88, So even if I wanted to I couldn't knock it down.

"What do you mean the world doesn't need people like me? Explain yourself properly" Louis said in an angry tone.

"Well, you'll see," Shake said with a mocking smile, as he began to untie his hands.

The moment he untied his hands, Louis stood up and tried to run, but unfortunately Shake grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

"Not so fast, nerd"

While with one arm he held Louis' shoulder, the other arm lifted him up and directed Louis towards his hairy, sweaty armpit.

"You inhale the smell, bro... Don't stop, soon you'll be a dumb, muscled guy like me... And above all, my frequent bro"

While Shake was saying that to Louis, Louis was trying to get away from him, but something told him that he wouldn't stop smelling his armpit so he kept doing it, while shake began to say words that Louis did not understand.

"you are a straight brother"

"You like girls"

"You like the smell that your big muscular body gives off"

"That makes you more masculine and manly"

As Shake said those words, Louis began to change.

His straight black hair began to turn a brownish hue as its shape changed from straight to wavy, He also began to grow in height, almost matching the size of the guy from the gym.

His face began to creak a little, as all the little baby fat began to oxidize to give him a more masculine and mature face, His pimples disappeared, his jaw became more defined while his skin also began to soften, His small lips began to enlarge and become fleshy, his nose changed, his brown eyes also changed to a brown color.

His skinny body began to burn, as he began to grow and muscles began to emerge, his clothes could not hold on any longer and tore as his shredded clothes fell to the ground revealing his new body.

He now had two big, juicy pecs, while his shoulders became broader, his torso expanded, his arms became more toned while now his triceps and biceps looked good, His back also expanded and grew giving him a back carved by the gods themselves.

His belly that was thin, now had a pack of 8 well-worked abs while on his sides he had some v-lines, As he continued to sniff Shake's armpit, his Adam's bell grew larger and stood out even more.

"That's it bro... Change and keep smelling my scent, I know you like it"

The changes were still happening, now his legs began to hurt, while his thighs grew to the size of a tree trunk, his calves also exploded, His jeans ripped as they could no longer hold the size, revealing his large, muscular legs as some brown hair emerged from them.

"You're a bro, all your friends are bro's, you're a frat guy"

"You love to leave all your candy inside the girls, you love to breed"

The moment Shake said that, Louis could feel a little excitement in his cock, he could feel it starting to grow in size and so it did, His cock began to grow and thicken, its vulnerable size of 10 centimeters stopped growing, now he had a large anaconda of 20 centimeters, erect and sore.

Now, his feet began to burn and hurt, as they grew in size, his toes lengthened while his feet gained some more flesh to make them look more masculine and worthy of a athletic man, And just like all his clothes, his shoes and socks also ripped off revealing his cute and juicy 15cm feet, The moment his feet came out of his sneakers, they began to give off an unpleasant and stinky smell, just like Shake smelled.

"You love the gym, your whole life is the gym, the girls, your brothers, the parties and the alcohol"

"You hate nerds, you make fun of them and you hit them"

After that, Shake let him go, Louis was surprised to see himself in the mirror that the gym had in front of him.

"What have you done to me!?... Wait- my voice... It sounds different, it sounds deeper"

"Of course bro, you already saw yourself in the mirror, right? A muscular and stinky bro ike us must have a deep, masculine voice, I just need the finishing touch"

Shake took a perfume out of his shorts pocket and began spraying it all over the gym.

"wait, what are you-"

The moment Louis inhaled it, his mind began to blur as his head ached, He put his hands on his head and began to growl.

"Uhh...."

His old memories were beginning to fade, he tried to hold on to them, but the scent of the perfume was too strong, new memories began to flood her mind.

He began to remember that he was always a spoiled child, he was always in the best schools and that his parents were millionaires, he remembered the countless times he had left several girls pregnant.

He began to remember that he started training at the age of 18 and now at 21 he had a body that he loved.

He remembered that he was in college and in the best fraternity, he remembered the countless parties he had had with his brothers.

His mind began to fill with girls and their big boobs, making him feel needy.

Brown hair began to grow in his armpits while a sweaty smell began to come out of them.

He started thinking about his girlfriend and her big boobs, making him came, saying goodbye to his old self.

"Bro! "You've made a mess in my gym"

"Sorry bro, but I couldn't help but cum at the thought of my girlfriend, but it shouldn't bother you, this will give a unique smell to your gym" Jake laughed as he punched him on the shoulder

"Whatever bro, here, go put these pants and boxers on, it's time to train"

Jake grabbed the gray-colored sweatpants and the boxers, headed toward the locker room. Once there he put on his pants and boxers, he saw some AirPods that he recognized as his own, He put them on while grabbing his phone that was in his locker.

"damn it, I look so goooooddd, My girlfriend is very lucky to have me"

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[enanansbbg]

Anhane’s relationship, and it’s complexity:

this was originally uploaded onto twt, but I wanted to reupload it here because I was very proud of this analysis, so please enjoy and feel free to add anything I may have missed or skipped over!

With that being said, here we go! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

Let’s start with the basics. The pure power of their aibouness, and its connections to vivid street.

To begin, you must understand what a partner is in VBS terms. In this case, it’s ‘a person who brings out parts of you never knew existed’.

In relations to Anhane, this is based off pure raw emotions. This is shown through An’s abandonment issues and Kohane’s want to make her heart pound.

Kohane wants to recreate that feeling she felt when she first heard An singing inside of An, to ‘make her heart pound’, while An’s abandonment issues cause her to fear Kohane’s rapid growth may lead to Kohane abandoning her.

This also plays into a certain factor about Kohane and the idea of her and angst, I believe.

Many people want Kohane to have some kind of angst event, especially related to her backstory, but that would go against all her motives.

See, Kohane’s pure movies for pursuing music—for working to surpass Rad Weekend all tie back to An. It was hearing An singing at WG that made her heart pound and An asking her to be her singing partner that caused her to even consider music as an option.

From here, their relationship develops into a lot more, and it’s when the idea of partners ‘bringing out an ugly side of you’ comes to play.

You can see even in the maim story An not seeing Kohane as an equal. It only gets called out and resolved in Singing in Sync.

Singing In Sync, ep. 1 and 3

🎧: “In the unlikely event that something does go wrong, I’ll cover for you and get you back on track, okay?”

…

🎧: “I failed as her partner…I couldn’t protect her…

…

🎧: “I mean, she’s my partner…And I wanted to guide her so that she could sing without worrying…”

…

🥞: “You don’t think of Kohane as one of the team.”

An telling Kohane “I’ll protect you if you mess up” subconsciously puts the idea into Kohane’s head “I’m not good enough, so I’ll probably mess up” This is what caused the entire issue in SIS to begin with.

But it’s once An tells her “you can protect me too” that Kohane is able to subconsciously think “I have the power to make her heart pound too”

Singing in Sync, ep. 8

🎧: “If I miss a cue at the next event…”

🎧: “Could you cover for me?”

🐹: “An… Sure, I can do that!”

After this we get Awakening Beat. Kohane is able to come out of her shell and fully adapts the idea “I can make her heart pound too” and has a large boost in confidence because of it. An both brought her confidence down and back up in the spam of one rotation.

Awakening Beat, ep. 8

🎧: (“It’s like she’s not even the Kohane I know. Could this be because she’s completely resolved herself?”

🎧: (“But even with just that, she can really change this much…?”)

However….In the same event, An’s insecurities begin to bloom and in Bout for Beside You, An has to face them for the first time.

Awakening Beat, ep. 8, BFBY, ep. 4

🎧: (“I was just gonna tell her she did amazing… That I never knew she could sing that amazingly, but…”

🎧: (“What’s going on? I just can’t get the words out—”)

…

🎧: “Kohane is…going to leave me behind?”

Here, An realizes her and Kohane ‘perfect’ relationship is more complicated now. While Kohane’s adapted the idea of “I want to make her heart pound”, An opens to idea of “I wont he able to make her heart pound anymore” (they doki doki more than ddlc i swear)

At the end of the event, An ask Kohane the golden question. “If I were to leave somewhere far away, would we still sing together?”

BFBY, ep. 8

🎧: “But what would you do if I said that I’d be going somewhere far far away someday?”

🎧: “And I wanted to reach greater heights just like what Uncle Taiga did exploring the world. If I were to go to someplace even greater and far far away from here—”

Of course, Kohane affirms this. Naturally, Kohane takes a lot of pride in being An’s partner, being the only partner for her. (as said in ORS) She wants to keep singing with An forever.

BFBY, ep. 8

🐹: “Even so, I would want to keep singing with An-chan!”

🐹: “No matter where you go or what you become, I’d still want to be with you!”

🐹: “I want to properly stand beside you and sing with you!”

We’re gonna skip ahead a bit and jump up to KIUAN, where we get our lovely “She looks like Nagi-san” line, the line that killed every Anhane shipper in the tristate area.

But what makes this line so special? Well, for that let’s discuss what made Nagi’s death (and the lie surrounding it) so impactful.

Nagi was someone An looked up to highly. So, when she was suddenly told that Nagi moved, not even saying goodbye, to pursue her music career, it left a mark on An. Added to the fact that Nagi wasn’t returning An’s messages or calls, just completely disappeared.

Now, looking to Bout for Beside you and KIUAN, you can see the importance of these lines. An fears that Kohane will improve so much that she leaves without a word, never talks go her again and just moves on. It’s why she looks so distressed.

VOT ep. 8, BFBY, ep. 8, KIUAN ep. 7

🎧: “…Aww. I wonder what Nagi-san is doing over in America? I wish she’d give us a call at least.”

🎧: “Ah! Maybe I’ll send her a text then! I wonder if she’ll be surprised~?”

…

🎧: “But what would you do if I said that I’d be going somewhere far far away someday?”

…

🎧: “…She looks just like Nagi-san…”

And, it’s why she can’t even believe Kohane when she says just how important An is to her, how much she loves her and wants to sing with her because Nagi said the same thing and now Nagi is gone.

This manages to reach a resolve in WTWG, where An ‘fights’ Kohane, takes all those raw emotions out in a healthy way, through her song.

An’s card in WTWG is more than just ‘An takes her anger out on Kohane’, because in truth that’s not entirely what she’s doing. Instead, it’s An’s raw emotions taking form.

An wants Kohane to grow, she wants Kohane to thrive fully, but that fear of abandonment—Fear that Kohane will leave and never speak to her again makes her want to hold her close and never let her go anywhere.

So what about Kohane?

Well, starting with thr WTWG card/story, Kohane wants to be An’s best partner. As she states, ‘to make An’s heart pound’.

So, to be vulnerable here is to accept all of An’s raw emotions. Let her lean on her and feel everything because to Kohane, that makes her a worthy partner.

She says over and over throughout the fight that An is amazing, that she wants to be like her, how much it makes her heart pound. Really, it reminds me of Kohane’s colorfes story.

WTWG, ep. 7

🐹: (“An-chan…really is amazing.”)

🐹: (“…Whenever I hear An-chan sing, it really makes my heart pound like nothing else. It makes me wish I could sing like her.”)

In it, Kohane goes to Vivid Street, but everyone thinks she’s An. This happens after she thinks about what it would be like to be An, but only going through this dream does she realize that she doesn’t want to be An, she wants to be her. She wants to be An’s partner.

Colorfes Kohane ep. 1 and 2

Record Store Onee-san: “You caught me off guard, using polite like that, An-chan!”

🐹: (“Did she just say An-chan…?”)

…

🐹: (“—An-chan’s so cool and strong…and there’s times I wish I could be like her…”)

🐹: (“I have to be me! Because—”)

🎧: “—Y’know, I was thinking, your singing is always so amazing, Kohane.”

🎧: “Whenever I hear your singing, it makes my heart race. The tension rises, and it makes me feel like I have to start singing right now!”

🐹: (“Because I’m An-chan’s partner—!”)

And to be An’s partner, is to drag all those raw, vertical emotions out of An, just like she does in WTWG.

In conclusion, Anhane explosion their relationship is so complex and strong and I love it

[certainlynotasimp]

Walking on Sunshine

A/N: Hello✨ I realize that my post about Miguel’s height kinda blew up and I kinda wanna try writing a quick little blurb to see if you guys will like it. I been wanting to dove into fanfics, but I’ve been too scared to do so. Please leave some critics for me as I literally just typed this little thing on my phone last night.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, established relationship? (It’s kinda up to interpretation how deep you want it to be), no use of Y/n (‘Sunny’ is there nickname’).

I haven’t seen the movie so this maybe inaccurate.

TDLR: Miles is meeting all sorts of new Spider-Men as he adventures the Lobby, but who is ‘Sunny’?

—————————————-

As Gwen led Miles around the Lobby with Hobie and Jessica, they reached the main area where they were set to meet the leader.

In the distance, the group can hear arguing, which causes the others to sigh as Miles looks to them in confusion.

“Um, what’s all that about?” Miles questions as he listens more closely as they head towards the noise. As they draw closer, he realizes that the argument sounded more like a deep masculine voice fuming while a softer voice attempts to calm them down.

Jessica chuckles and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing, most likely Sunny trying to calm down our fearless leader.”

“Sunny?” Miles quirks an eyebrow as Hobie groans.

“I swear, if Sunny wasn’t here, I would have thrashed that prick by now.”

“Now, Hobie, you know Sunny wouldn’t let that happen.” Jessica chuckles as she rubs her aching back. “Besides, you know he can’t stay mad at her for long.”

“Um Excuse me,” Miles interjects, clearly annoyed that they ignored him. “Who is this Sunny? Is she another Spider-Woman or?”

Gwen giggles at Miles’ frustration and nudges him. “Sunny is one of us and Miguel’s favorite, so if you plan to piss off Miguel, make sure Sunny is there to calm him down.”

“Why would I plan to-“

His sentence gets interrupted as the door opens and someone peeks their head out. The woman was about the same height as Gwen and had on a black spider suit. The suit had sections of white on her chest and inner sides of her arms and thighs. The lines of her costume appear to be black with a faint green iridescent in the light. Her eyes shined with a silent apology as her cheeks glowed red. Despite her obvious embarrassment, she smiles at the group brightly.

“Hey, guys.” She greets them in a sweet tone before her eyes lock on Miles. “I see you brought in the legendary Miles Morales, Gwen.”

“You know who I am?” Miles questioned the woman as she opened the door for the group. His eyes glare at Gwen as she responds with a giggle.

“Of course, Gwen told me all about your inter dimensional adventure. You certainly handled yourself well. Even Miggy was impressed.”

Hobie and Jessica laugh at the mention of the nickname while Gwen at least attempts to try not to snort. Sunny tilts her head as she looks quizzically at the laughing trio while Miles looks dumbfounded.

“Whose Miggy?” He ask before a tall man appears on the platform above them.

His burgundy eyes glared down at the group with annoyance as he sighs. “Cariño…”

Sunny looks up at Miguel with an innocent smile as she looks at Miguel with eager anticipation. Miles’ watches as the intimating Spider-Man’s eyes soften as he places his hands on his hips.

“Why don’t you go meet Peter and babysit Mayday for him? I’m sure this meeting won’t take too long.” Miguel’s voice sounded stoic as Sunny’s energy bounced at the thought of playing with a baby.

“Okay!” She agrees as she quickly gives everyone either a hug or a pat. “And Miggy?” She calls as she shoots a web out of the open door, ready for her quick escape.

“Yes?” He answers with a lifted brow as he chooses to ignore Gwen, finally snorting out a laugh.

“Don’t.” She warns with pleading eyes with an unspoken request.

A silent argument playing between them as they both know what’s about to happen. An unfair choice about to be given to a kid. A choice that everyone else had to make in order to become the protectors of their worlds. A judgement that they both wish didn’t have to happen as they weren’t even given the option for their own loved ones.

She looks at Miles briefly as she knows he can’t help to make this life changing decision. She knows how this is probably gonna go and she doesn’t blame him. She would probably fight her hardest if she had known what would have happened to her-.

“I won’t.” Miguel answers, drawing her attention back on him. His eyes stern with a glimmer of guilt, knowing he can’t exactly promise that he will stay in control of his rage if Miles decides to run.

“Alrighty.” Sunny replied before smiling. “You guys have fun.”

With that she left, Miguel softly returning her smile as he watch her leave before becoming stern again as Miles asks,

“So how do I join this team?”

——————-

A/N: That’s all I got for now.😅. I would appreciate some critique and if you wanna see more of ‘Sunny’ and Miggy, let me know.

[coffee-and-geto]

— suguru geto headcanons.

bf!suguru geto who falls in love again and again every time he spies on you when you don’t look at him.

bf!suguru geto who is the least clingy boyfriend you’ve ever experienced but those occasional physical contacts — although it’s just a mere brushing hand — can give you butterflies anyone else can ever give you.

bf!suguru geto whose love language is quality time — go to the cinema, have a picnic, go to the museum, an aquarium, or chill out with you on his/your bed and cuddle with quiet sweet words.

bf!suguru geto who never ever raises his voice at you in an argument, even if you were wrong — he will listen to you till you finish to draw what you harbor resentment. he LISTENS.

bf!suguru geto who gives you princess treatment just because. he doesn’t have to justify himself.

bf!suguru geto who is always soft-spoken with you and when you let him understand that you don’t hear what he’s saying, he lowers himself to your height and repeats what he said in your ear to see a blush spread from your cheeks to your whole face.

bf!suguru geto who will watch your favorite series/movie, read your favorite book to talk for hours and hours about it, and relish your fangirlism.

bf!suguru geto who can’t sleep at all if at least one of you two don’t spoon one’s middle. it’s a need.

bf!suguru geto who isn’t a morning person but gives you anyway a tired smile before yawning, his cup of coffee in one hand and an arm wrapped around your waist.

bf!suguru geto who respects your ideas and belief and tries to understand why with so much respect and without ever putting you down or making fun of you.

bf!suguru geto who worships your body like a worshipper does it with his God, praising every inch of your beautiful body and removing your complexes about what you call your body’s “flaws”.

bf!suguru geto who can also have a second love language as act of service — tying the laces on your sneakers, carrying your shopping bags, opening the door for you, brushing your hair (and revealing his hair secrets to you)

bf!suguru geto who can’t breathe if he doesn’t know where you are, always asking your location if you didn’t have the time to tell him where you go.

bf!suguru geto who gladly accepts your offer to match your wallpapers.

bf!suguru geto who can be jealous but not in a toxic way — poor pookie is just sometimes insecure that you may find someone better than him :( — even if you swear on your entire bloodline you will never see anyone but him and you’d rather die than look anywhere but at him.

bf!suguru geto who is the happiest boyfriend in the world only because he has you, he chooses you and you choose him back :)

bf!suguru geto who has a soft spot for your pretty ass — always a little squeeze on one cheek as he passes you by, and if you dare to bend down to pick up something that has fallen to the floor when he is close by, you will get a firm smack on your ass.

bf!suguru geto who can live with his head between your legs, whether for eating you out and getting orgasms out of you one by one until you beg him while sobbing you can’t give him another anymore, his tongue swirling, lapping at your wet folds and puffy clit.

bf!suguru geto who loves resting his head on your plushy thighs and you swear he can fall asleep in a few minutes.

bf!suguru geto who whines, his face buried between your boobs, on his occasional clingy, needy hours that he will marry you as quickly as possible when you both will graduate.

[thewinter-eden]

That Your Man?

images are mine (except middle LK pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. Apparently all the ATE pcs are my inspo this time.

part 2 of my skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Lee Minho x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: mugger!Minho holds you and your bf up in an empty parking lot one night, ready to give you the old ‘your money or your life’ routine, but when your bf pushes you into the line of fire so he can run away, Minho has second thoughts.

warnings: Fear, Minho has a gun, attempted mugging (obv), asshole bf, rude Minho, scared but defeated reader, Minho's kinda soft but he ain't gonna admit it, language, satire, unrealistic robbery, unrealistic Minho, food-related insecurity, nerve/muscle/twitch-related insecurity, hurt/comfort, Minho’s a softie but also a criminal coffee.

Comment and reblogs appreciated!

word count: 4k

series info

“Shit, babe, don’t cry.” Your boyfriend pulls you off to the side, a playful laugh on his lips as he uses your scarf to wipe your face. It’s a brand new scarf—he just gave it to you for your birthday, and some of the fibers stick to your face. “It’s just a movie.” He crouches low to your face, diminishing his own height more than necessary in a way that makes you feel so small.

Embarrassment floods your cheeks with heat, and you do your best to pull yourself together. This is not at all how you thought this would go. Crying in front of him is one of the less enjoyable ways to spend an evening, particularly when he’s in a diminutive mood, as he is right now. You’re both standing outside the theater, huddled together in the glow of the neon sign, while people pass you by with the scent of popcorn and chocolate on their clothes.

“Sorry,” You laugh at yourself. It’s easier to deal with him laughing at you when you’re already laughing at yourself. The movie was a biopic on a musician you’ve always loved, and the final scenes had been comprised of the last footage taken of them before their death. You didn’t mean to cry through the credits, but here you are, sniffling into your new scarf.

“Aww, that’s okay, babe.” Your boyfriend coos, and gives your arm a squeeze. He’d thought the movie was ‘sensationalist crap.’ “You wanna grab food? We can get whatever takeout you want.”

That’s how you found yourself crossing the dark parking lot towards McDonalds, Jake’s debit card in hand for his half of the bill. You hadn’t really wanted crappy fast food for your birthday dinner, but while you had been considering your options, Jake had caught sight of the famous golden arches gleaming across the lot.

He couldn’t go with you to collect the food, of course. He had a work call to make and would rather sit in the heat of his car than walk through the cold as he did.

This behavior isn’t new.

You’re used to it.

You’re independent, you can handle being left to your own devices.

And his work calls are boring as hell to listen to, anyway, so why not make the most of the situation and take a walk?

It’s even starting to snow.

It’s a beautiful night for a walk.

As you turn your face to the sky to catch fresh snowflakes on the tip of your nose, you hear running footsteps behind you. “Babe!” Jake’s voice pants.

You turn to find him fighting the slick of the icy parking lot to catch up with you. He’s laughing, rolling his eyes at himself, waving his wallet at you. “I totally forgot.”

You open your arms to catch him as he comes skittering into reach, shiny black shoes nearly slipping out from under him. His long limbs flail briefly before settling against you, his weight thrown against your hip to keep himself upright.

He’s got his earpiece in, his phone clutched in one hand, the word ‘conference’ rolling across the info line. His side of the call is muted so he can speak to you.

You thread your fingers through his jacket, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, but he’s too busy digging through his wallet to receive it. Your lips glance off his chin and are left cold and unsatisfied.

This is also normal. You’ve stopped letting it sting.

“Here.” He plucks his debit card from your hand and replaces it with another. “Use my work card for my half. I can technically write this off as an expense since I’m working.” He gestures to his phone significantly and then pinches your cheek fondly. “Thanks babe. Love you.”

Derision swirls in your gut, but you fight it down. “Love you too.”

But he’s already checked out of the conversation. His eyes float somewhere above your head, listening to whomever is speaking on his call. A twinge of annoyance twists his lips.

Deciding to leave him to his work, you turn on your heel and continue your jilted jaunt to McDonalds, only to run smack into someone in the otherwise empty parking lot.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You pull yourself away from the man you’ve just plowed into, looking for his face past the blackness of his hood and face mask to gauge how much you might have just pissed him off.

Because that’s just what you need—getting chewed out by a stranger in the cold.

“Babe?” Jake’s voice wonders behind you. “You okay?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Because you’ve just seen it.

Poking through the folds of the stranger’s dark jacket, the muzzle gleaming in the light of the street lamps, and pointing straight at you, is the barrel of a handgun.

You’re frozen.

The man steps closer and you see his eyes then, narrow and focused. They meet your gaze for an instant, flickering with some unreadable thought, and then settle just over your shoulder. He’s sizing up your boyfriend, still silent as the night.

“Babe, answer me, are you—holy shit.” Jake is standing next to you then, his searching gaze landing on the gun, and his hand grips your arm.

You’re mentally going through your options, working your way through potential scenarios.

Most likely, it’s your average mugging.

Probably nothing like the time you and your nephew gathered up all of his tiny plastic play kitchen mugs and pelted them at your brother, all while shouting “You’re being mugged!” Great fun for a six-year-old, probably not so much for this man.

He’ll take your phones and your wallets, maybe even your car keys, but he probably won’t shoot anybody. He just wants quick cash, maybe for drugs or rent, and he’s probably not interested in being a wanted murderer.

He looks too old to be a teenager, and he’s rock solid, calm and collected, which comforts you. He’s not a stupid kid, and he’s not totally strung out. You might just be lucky enough to rely on some rational decision making.

While you’re thinking your way through your chances of surviving, Jake is erupting into panic next to you.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. This isn’t happening. Oh my god.” His hold on your arm is like a vice, clenching around your muscle with more than enough strength to bruise. Half of you wants to pry his fingers off before they splinter the bone, the other half wants to hide behind him and pretend this isn’t happening.

“Calm down.” The stranger scolds your boyfriend coolly, but he’s cut off.

“Oh my god, please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. I have an electric car, just take it.” And then Jake’s scrambling through his pockets, while the stranger’s eyes further narrow into slits.

His gaze darts to you, where you’re still frozen.

“Take it easy, Romeo,” The stranger takes a step closer, an action that completely spooks Jake.

Your boyfriend lets out a wail of terror and promptly dives behind you, his hands hurling you forward. You scream, your body colliding with solid warmth. In the next second he’s gone, bolting back across the parking lot towards his car.

You hardly notice the flash of headlights or the screech of tires as he squeals out onto the street, because your boyfriend’s actions have just launched you directly into the arms of the man who’s trying to mug you.

The stranger had caught you by reflex, his gun now jammed forcefully into your ribs, and you definitely hadn’t accounted for this scenario.

There’s a rush of grunts and tangled limbs and skidding shoes as you shove yourself away from him, your eyes wide, lungs gasping, but the stranger is staring in the direction that Jake just drove off in.

“Shit,” He mutters in disbelief, and finally turns back to you.

You’re still petrified, terrified, abandoned.

Where are you gonna go now? Hoof it to McDonalds and hope the bigger, stronger man doesn’t catch you before you get there?

Well.

Then again.

Might be your best option.

But then the stranger reaches behind himself and tucks the gun into his waistband, bringing his now empty hands back into view. In a second, he’s knocked his hood back and tugged his mask down, revealing shocks of fluffy brown hair and the highest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. He hooks a thumb back towards the street. “That your man?”

It’s enough to open the floodgates.

You burst into tears, so relieved that you’re no longer at gunpoint, terrified because you’re alone with the man who tried to mug you (did he even get the chance?), pissed and hurt because your boyfriend shoved you into the arms of a gunman, confused because the gunman is now speaking casually to you.

It’s a lot.

At your sudden explosion of emotion, the man leans back on his heels, sighing at you. This isn’t how he expected the altercation to go, but now that he’s left in the whirlwind aftermath of your nightmare boyfriend saving his own ass, all he can do is stare as you dissolve into a puddle of tears.

Through sobs, which you barely manage to hide in your scarf, you squint up at him past the falling snow. “What do you want? Are you robbing me?” You might as well ask—what is he gonna do, shoot you?

After a few seconds of pensive silence, the man steps forward with a nod. You flinch backwards, but he just lifts his empty hand, palm up. “Yeah, I am. Give me the card he just gave you.”

You blink, tears momentarily paused. “The card?”

He nods towards where your hand is still clenched around the company credit card. “Yeah I heard all that ‘pay for my half with the work card’ bullshit. I saw that lame-o pathetic kiss, too. He’s a real winner. Gimme.”

His fingers crook at you expectantly, and you’re so tense that you jump and immediately pass the card over. He tucks it into his pocket, and then cocks his head oddly at your scarf. “What is that fucking monstrosity and why are you wearing it with the tag still on it?”

He doesn’t know what to do, either. None of his victims have ever sacrificed their girlfriends to him before; admittedly at a loss, he decides to play it by ear. You haven’t called the cops yet, so he still has some time to see where this goes.

More confused than ever, your eyes fall to the bright orange and blue felt scarf, and realize that there is in fact a tag sticking out of one of the folds. Before you can take a closer look at it, the stranger’s hand snaps out and plucks the scarf off your neck. A rush of cold air chills your skin where the fabric once was.

He’s…stealing your scarf?

“Hey, wait—” You argue, and then freeze when his challenging eyes snap back up to you. “That was a birthday present, please don’t take it.”

He holds up the tag, a neon green discount marker from a local thrift store. “Who gave it to you? Because—”

You snatch the scarf back, humiliated. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” You can’t believe you just yanked something out of the hands of the man with the gun.

He gazes at you for a long moment, hands jammed in his pockets. He doesn’t know much about you, except for the fact that you handle duress better than your boyfriend does, but he did overhear the company card conversation which suggested you were expected to pay for your own dinner while your boyfriend wasn’t even willing to pay for his own, and that you were sent to collect dinner by yourself, and, now, that your birthday gift had been a horrendous piece of second hand garbage that—by the looks of your clothes—isn’t your style at all.

“Your boyfriend got you a thrifted scarf for your birthday.” He repeats blandly.

You sniffle, putting a few more feet of distance between you. “He knows I like cozy things.” There’s not much you can say to defend Jake at this point, but you can’t take any more degradation right now.

“Tell me he got you something better last year.” The stranger scoffs.

You scowl at him. “Aren’t you robbing me?”

His teeth flash in the lamplight, and he waggles Jake’s company card at you. “I already did. Shall we go get him fired?”

Voracious, incredibly stressed laughter bursts out of you. “What?”

This guy holds you up in a dark parking lot at nearly midnight, witnesses the most embarrassing display of emotional betrayal you can imagine, and is now offering to get your boyfriend fired as payback for abandoning you?

He tucks the card back in his pocket with a shrug. “Just seems to me like it’s more worth my time to give that asshole what’s coming to him than to steal the money you probably don’t have, considering he makes you pay for shit.”

There’s nothing in the world that could have prepared you for that.

Your mouth falls open. “I have money!”

“Are you offering?” His hand goes back towards the gun in his waistband, his smirk teasing, and your heart leaps into your throat. His joke falls flat when your gaze drops to the ground, chin tucking against your chest, your entire personality seeming to instantly deflate.

His heart sinks at the sight, which is not something he wants to decipher right now.

“Alright, wait.” He drops the edge of his jacket back down over the gun. “I was kidding, please don’t cry again. I’m Minho, what’s your name?”

“Why the hell would I tell you my name?” You snap. Then you shoot him a look. “Why the hell would you tell me your name?”

He shrugs again—an action he seems very fond of—and nods to the scarf still in your hands. “Throw that piece of shit away and come with me. There’s a coffee shop right over there that’s still open. You can warm up while you order another ride.”

You balk, moving backwards once again. At this point, you could fit an entire shopping cart train between you, and Minho is smiling.

“I’m not going with you!” You exclaim, clutching the scarf like a shield.

He points to the other side of the parking lot, where a coffee shop pours warm light out onto the pavement. “We would be walking. Just come with me for a cup of coffee. Alright? You said you like cozy things.”

A few seconds of tense silence pass. He blows snowflakes out of his eyelashes and blinks at you expectantly. You can’t understand what the hell is happening right now.

“Why?”

Minho sighs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “You just got mugged, alright, you’re in distress. You just got stranded here with a dangerous stranger, and you look like you’re turning blue. I can’t just leave you here.”

“You had no trouble robbing me at gunpoint, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

The teasing smile falls from his face and he frowns at you. “Because I just robbed you at gunpoint and that’s not even why you’re crying. That’s a whole new level of pathetic. I can’t in good conscience leave you here.”

You burst into tears all over again.

He lifts his hands in surrender, approaching you carefully. “Alright, listen. I’d rather run up a shit ton of debt on your ex’s company credit card than keep making you cry. So can we start with a cup of coffee? Please? Once you’re in the Uber I’ll be on my way, buying TVs and chipotle gift cards until he’s out of a job. I swear.” He crosses his heart.

“He’s not my ex.” You sniffle, because he’s not. Who wouldn’t be terrified in the face of an armed robbery? You can’t totally blame Jake for his reaction, as miserable as it makes you feel. Did he even think about coming back for you? What if you had been shot after he left?

Minho shakes his head at you and watches you crumble all over again. “Come on, jagi, why are you this upset over that deadbeat nobody? You’re making me feel funny.” Pity. The nurturing monsoon swirling in his gut is pity—something he’s never felt for somebody he’s mugged before. His eyes lift to take in the movie theater behind you, and then at the scarf still clenched in your fists as you weep.

“Don’t tell me today is your birthday.”

You sob harder, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. You’re not afraid of this strange criminal anymore, rather heartbroken and disappointed that your already lame evening has taken such a miserable turn.

“Well, shit.” Minho mumbles. “Wait, shit. He was going to make you pay for your own fucking McDonalds on your birthday?”

“Why do you care so much?” You screech, reeling away when his hand touches your arm.

He throws up his hands in equal amounts of frustration, eyes widening as much as yours. “Because you look like an abandoned fucking kitten and I’d be a horrible person to just leave you here.”

“You are a horrible person.” You shout back, and then your mouth clamps shut. Your hand slaps over your lips, staring at him in utter terror as you realize that you’re firing insults at someone who could just shoot you if he decides you’re offensive enough.

But he just laughs at you. “Yeah, fair enough. So, come on—coffee?”

Without a single sane reason to support this decision, you walk across the parking lot with him and step into the comforting heat of the busy coffee shop. It’s weird, it’s definitely weird, but in the past five minutes he’s showed you more interest than Jake has in three months, and you can’t help but want to spend a few more minutes in the company of someone so attentive.

And as the light washes over his decidedly attractive face, you realize that he’s not so bad to look at, either.

After all, he robbed Jake—not you.

Minho stands at the counter, ordering your drinks, and then nudges you and points at a display case full of cake. “Eh? For your birthday?”

Your stomach rumbles with hunger, but your face flushes with heat. “Oh, no, I’m good.”

He frowns. “I’m not going to make you pay for it, not after the way that ass treated you.”

“Because it was so much worse than the way you pulled a gun on me?” You hiss, eyes flashing to the barista who miraculously doesn’t hear you.

Minho rolls his eyes. “If you were my girlfriend, I never would have pulled a gun on you, much less pushed you in front of one. It’s completely different. Get a slice of cake.”

The barista’s eyes go wide.

You wave his suggestion away. “No, really. Thanks anyway.” The cake does look incredible, though.

“I can hear your stomach growling. Would you rather go get something different? Protein?” Minho pushes, glancing around your person as though he expects you to faint right in front of him. It’s almost sweet enough to cancel out your suspicion of him as he waits for you to order a slice of birthday cake.

You step away from the register instead. “I’ll eat at home.”

Minho squints at you. “You don’t eat in public?” It’s sarcasm.

“…No.” It’s not sarcasm.

“Because…”

You’re getting antsy, the barista’s getting antsy, and the three people in line behind you are getting antsy.

Minho doesn’t care.

Why would he? He’ll just rob them all later.

“Because I have a facial spasm when I eat.” You whisper, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

The man before you looks like he’s not surprised at all by this information. “So? That’s not uncommon.”

“But it embarrassed my boyfriend—”

“Your ex.”

“It embarrassed him so we stopped doing meal dates in public.”

He stares at you. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No, my face twitches really badly and it’s embarrassing. Just the coffee please. Please. I can’t take this anymore.” You can’t stand the fact that you’re spending so long holding up the line, so you shake your head at him and move towards a table in the corner, refusing to delay the process any longer.

Your retreat forces Minho to turn around and complete his order, paying with Jake’s company card, but a few moments later he’s approaching your table with two plates of cake. He puts one in front of you with a hard set frown. “Just eat the damn cake. Your ex is shit. It’s not like your side of the booth faces the room anyway, so you won’t feel uncomfortable.”

He sits across from you, scooting his own plate closer to himself.

“He’s not my ex.” You argue quietly. “And my side of the booth still faces you.” It shouldn’t matter, to show one of your more mortifying qualities to the guy who held you up in the parking lot, but it does. You want to put your beautiful slice of cake into a to-go box and take it home to eat it curled up in your armchair where no one can see you.

Minho doesn’t look up from his cake. “He’ll be your ex boyfriend after tonight. There’s no reason for you to be holding on to the bitch ass who throws you at the barrel of a gun on his worst day and is too ashamed of you to take you to dinner—or let you fucking kiss him—on his best. Now eat your cake before he becomes your late boyfriend.”

Blood drains from your face as you reach for your fork. “Please don’t hurt us.” The words break past your lips in a whisper, but you scoop up a bite of cake. It nearly wobbles right off your fork as your hand trembles, but you manage to keep it onboard. “I really don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to chill out and have some birthday cake.” Minho glances up at you right as you take a bite and lift your hand to hide your face politely. He frowns as you chew. “Put your hand down. Did I tell you to cover your face?”

Your eyebrows lower, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’re being kinda mean to me.” It’s too weird, the juxtaposition of the man who mugged you at gunpoint outside and the man who is having cake and coffee with you in celebration of your birthday.

Though, to be fair, he didn’t really get the chance to rob you before Jake freaked out, so does it really count?

He just stares at you blankly. “Would you rather I take you out back and mug you again?” Before you can start crying again, he nudges your foot under the table with his own. “You’re safe, jagi. I’m sorry I scared you out there.”

It takes a second, but you convince yourself to relax. You’re safe.

You eat your cake, you drink your coffee, you smile every time Minho calls you jagi, exactly as he intends; you force yourself stop paying attention to the twitching in your cheeks while you chew, not even knowing that he’s watching you because it’s cute, not because it’s weird. He spends ten minutes trying to convince you to break up with Jake, and by the end of the meal—the first meal you’ve had in public since you started dating Jake a year and a half ago—you’ve decided you agree with him.

No more Jake.

Minho all but cheers. No more Jake.

At the end of the night, he watches you order an Uber, and then he borrows someone else’s phone. Actually borrows it, doesn’t steal it.

“Yes, hello, police? A woman has just been mugged. The guy had a gun, and he drove off in an electric car—” And, despite your insincere protest, he gives a description of your boyfriend as the assailant before hanging up. Minho returns the phone, waits with you for your Uber, and then sends you off with a cheeky wave of Jake’s company card.

He keeps the scarf.

Let me know what you think! (And look out for Changbin next <3)

taglist:

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hi!! I loved your aftercare hcs! Could I do a request where the reader is babysitting Estelle for the night since Paul and Sally have gone on a date and Percy comes home and finds reader and Estelle asleep cuddled up together?

girl's night

• the reader babysits Estelle and Percy finds them asleep.

— percy jackson x mortal!reader

warnings: none

a/n: hello! What a nice request, I hope I did it justice. 😭 Also, thank you!

It all started with a:

— Yes, Mrs. Jackson. I'll be there, don't worry.

Because it was your chance to gain Sally Jackson's trust. People who know her know that this opportunity is like gold, something not even a god would dare mess up or decline. But beyond that (since she was practically your mother-in-law), you cared about something else: Estelle.

Your boyfriend’s little sister. She was tiny, still unsteady on her feet, but already full of energy, and you loved the idea of bonding with her from such a young age. So, that's how you ended up agreeing to babysit her for a night while Sally and Paul went out on a date, which you thought was admirable and exemplary, that romance never dies even after starting a family.

You wondered for a moment if life with Percy would be like that too. Despite his life as a demigod and the differences between how you two were raised, you could see his dream of living peacefully, surrounded by his loved ones. You wanted to believe that when he talked about those hopes, you were included, and of course, you were.

You wished he could be with you, but not even Percy knew you were going to babysit Estelle. You saw him too worried about godly issues and his college graduation, even though he was on break. But you knew that life never stopped and you didn’t mind as long as he let you help, even if it was just by listening.

— Darling! — Sally Jackson exclaimed as she opened the apartment door, and you stood there, mouth agape. She looked stunning in a red dress, reminiscent of that movie "Me Before You." Paul peeked through the door while adjusting one of his funny ties.

— Mrs. Jackson — She chuckled, preferring you to call her Sally, but you couldn’t drop the formalities.

They showed you what there was to eat, talked a bit about Estelle’s schedule, but after that, they just looked at you with a confident smile.

— You'll do great, dear — Paul said, kissing Sally's forehead. You couldn’t understand how they could entrust you with their most precious thing without giving strict rules.

— Her bedtime? — The question seemed funny because they just shook their heads.

— Estelle doesn't struggle much with sleep; it’ll be obvious when she’s tired.

And when they left the apartment, you looked behind you. There she was, waving her tiny hand while giggling.

— It's just us, Estelle — You said, sitting next to her as she kept watching something on TV, something more important than your obvious nervousness.

You wondered if she would just watch the screen the whole time, if you only had to give her snacks when she got hungry and make sure she slept at a decent hour. You were pondering this when you felt a tug on your hand. You looked at her, and she was shaking some coloring pages and a worn-out crayon. Where had she gotten that? When?

She said something you wanted to interpret as, "Let's color, and you'll like it, or I'll tell everyone you're no the one for my brother." Well, maybe not, but it felt like that.

You picked her up and took her to the wooden table where the family usually had dinner, making her comfortable with some pillows to adjust her height. But even then, Estelle stood up and started coloring.

You had your own page and couldn’t remember the last time you colored, so your hand moved a bit clumsily, and being so focused, you didn’t see her hand make you go out of the lines. You looked at her, and she grinned widely, but you knew she didn’t do it on purpose; she was just calling you to see her progress, a scribbled bear with at least five different colors. You smiled genuinely and gave her a thumbs-up, which she took as the best critique of her art.

The night went like that, and you never thought such a small child could teach you so much.

When you made cookies, seeing her face reminded you of the joy in just making them, not so much eating them or how they turned out.

When you watched her favorite cartoons, you remembered what it was like to watch something without guilt or the worry that you should be doing something better or more productive.

When she decided she wanted to dance, you remembered that music could be missing, but never the attitude and good moves.

Estelle ended up holding your hand as you regularly straightened the cushions and rug, making sure nothing was too messy. When you smiled, she did too, and she didn’t let go of you all night.

Finishing up washing the dishes, you looked down to see Estelle next to your feet, sitting on the floor playing with some toys while waiting for you. You stopped to watch her for a moment, seeing so much of Sally in her, but also unmistakable traits of Paul, and in her attitude, you saw Percy. Maybe because he was her big brother after all. Estelle brought her little feet together and touched her toes, lost in whatever a child her age might be thinking when you saw her rub her eyes. That was your signal.

— Estelle — You called softly, and she looked at you with sleepy, shiny eyes. You extended your arms, and she got up to do the same, and you picked her up, rocking her, but she seemed to realize what you were trying to do.

— No — She said clearly. You were startled as she hid her face in your neck, clinging to you. You weren’t an expert, but you knew what it meant, so you sat down with her on the couch, placing her properly on your lap.

— It’s okay — You lied, feeling bad about it even though you knew you had to. You put on a new movie to make her think she’d stay awake, but your trick was to make her fall asleep, though you didn’t plan on falling asleep yourself. You hugged her and got comfortable, the best cuddle ever because she kept holding onto you as you slowly closed your eyes.

You never heard the key in the lock, the quiet footsteps on the floor, nor the warm greeting from your boyfriend, who wasn’t expecting to find you cuddled up with Estelle on the couch, sleeping soundly.

— Babe? — He asked softly, checking to see if you were really asleep. He set the keys down and took off his hoodie, dirtied from some... incidents.

His blue eyes scanned the apartment for his mom or Paul but found no sign of them, leading him to realize why you were there. He walked over to you two with quiet steps until he was face to face with an image no one could take from him. Two of his favorite people, seemingly fond of each other, filled his heart with love, and he kissed both your foreheads. Unfortunately, you woke up, and he couldn’t help but pout.

— Sorry — You mumbled, blurry-eyed and disoriented from your nap, realizing it was Percy. He was smiling, kneeling at your level.

— Percy — You murmured, rubbing your eyes and feeling another weight on your chest, going rigid as you remembered. Your boyfriend noticed your fear of waking her. He extended his arms and picked up Estelle so you could get up normally.

— Having fun without me? — He asked with his sister on his chest, rocking to keep her in the land of Hypnos. You stretched, smiling sleepily.

— There was no way to tell you — He nodded, seeing your phone on the carpet, feeling a bit bad for not being able to carry a phone to stay in touch. He often spent days away, and no one knew where he was, not even you.

— I’ll put Estelle to bed — He whispered, and you nodded, struggling to keep your eyes open in his direction, making him chuckle. Before leaving, he leaned in with his sister in his arms to kiss you.

— Be right back.

You nodded and stood to check the living room. You only had to straighten the cushions and put the chairs back in place before Percy hugged you from behind. At his touch, you hummed, feeling a wave of sleepiness brought on by the calm of having him there, finally safe.

— Hey — He greeted, still whispering, and you rested your head on his shoulder, giving him enough space to plant a warm kiss on your neck. With no immediate response from you, he held you tighter and kissed your cheek, wanting to support you so you didn’t have to put in so much effort.

— I’m okay — You said, realizing what he was trying to do, but he quickly lifted you bridal style, making his way back to the couch.

— Shh, I’ll take care of you. — He soothed while sitting with you, and you wrapped your arms around him, sharing your sleepiness. You rested your head on his chest, and he pulled the blanket from the corner to cover you both.

You sighed calmly, almost falling asleep when you sniffed your boyfriend's shirt once, twice, three times. Groggy, you kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear

— You smell like monster, Percy Jackson — He smiled, and you mirrored it.

— Things got tough — He said slowly, resting his cheek on your head, almost stumbling over words.

— Hmm — You hummed starting to fall asleep, and you both did it.

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame - Runaway Train

Jenna Ortega x female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / Next part

Word count: 6.2k

-You were there like a slow torch burning, I was a key that could use a little turning-

“The world still sucks!” the shout woke you up, but your doors being slammed open made you jump to your feet from the couch. Somehow even in your confused state you managed to recognize the voice of your best friend and self-appointed back-up manager for your career that would soon be restarted. At least according to Barbara, the same girl that just burst through your front door like she owned the place.

“So does your ability to knock,” you complained, reaching up to fix your bed hair, just fixing whatever you could with your fingers. You ended up falling asleep on the couch while reading through some scripts Barbara managed to get for you. Asshole. Sending e-mails in your name.

You didn’t have to look at her to know she just rolled her eyes and sat down on your couch. Flipping through the script parts you received. “Don’t pretend you’re getting something from the kitchen!” she called you out on your habit the moment you went toward the kitchen, and you winced, sometimes hating how well she knew you. You still poured yourself a glass of apple juice. “At least bring me a glass too,” you winced again at that.

“If you can barge into my apartment, you can get it yourself,” you grumbled, still feeling sleepy. You should have made a coffee, or tea, or something that would wake you up. You went back to the couch and sat down next to Barbara, smirking slightly as she tried her best to glare at you. You even made a show out of slowly sipping on the apple juice, just to see her pout.

“Mean,” she complained and looked away. You had to admit it was a cute pout. Barbara was beautiful, you were more than aware of that. A bit above average in height, just over 5 foot 6, she had a beautiful face, striking blue eyes, and blonde hair as straight as she was, which was a 100%, not a single atom in her body was attracted to anyone that wasn’t a man.

“You love it, babe,” you still teased one another every now and then. Even if she wasn’t straight there was no way you could ever see her as anything but your best friend. The teasing was just there for light-hearted fun.

Barbara hummed and suddenly tried to grab your glass, only for you to lift it out of her reach. “You have no heart,” she sighed and gave up on drinking the apple juice unless she got up, and you knew her pride wouldn’t let her do it. “Did anything catch your eye?” she asked, pointing a finger at the scripts.

“I dunno. How did you even get this many scripts?” there were four scripts in total. There was one for psychological thriller that would require you to go to Italy, one for a superhero movie, one for a reboot of the Scream franchise and finally for a pilot episode for TV drama.

Barbara shrugged and patted you on the back. “The comeback of a child star that won several awards and was nominated for a bunch for her first and only role? You’d be surprised how effective that pitch is,” she laughed as you facepalmed.

“You… I’m not even going to say anything,” you sighed, glancing through the window. You weren’t sure how it happened, you just auditioned because it seemed fun and Barbara dared you to do it, and then you ended up getting the role, got the taste of the industry, the work and dedication it took and just figured you didn’t want to spend your childhood like that. But now, close to turning twenty, you figured you might give it a shot again. Even if you were still a bit reluctant to go back to that world.

It wasn’t the work, you could do it now. But now that it’s been several years since your movie came out in 2017 and even more years since you filmed it back in 2013 and 2014, you found it difficult to motivate yourself to give it a shot. After all, how do you follow the success of it?

You didn’t notice Barbara’s eyes softening. “You worry too much,” she pointed out nudged you lightly.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yeah,” you went and picked up the script for Scream. “I think this should be fun, though going to Italy could be fun as well, and it’s a good story, dark, but good,” you narrowed it down to two choices and took your phone. You had some calls to make. Not before you went and brought a glass of apple juice for Barbara though.

~X~

The August heat in Los Angeles wasn’t something you liked experiencing, especially when you were already feeling quite nervous standing in front of the building where Radio Silence Production office was. ‘Get it together, you know how these go,’ you berated yourself, you had a successful movie behind you, granted, you weren’t the one responsible for the success. And you had your current job, if this failed you were perfectly comfortable with not being an actress.

Even if Barbara would get on your nerves for it for the rest of your life.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the role was actually perfect for you, as if written with you in mind. About as close to action as you figured most horror movies would get you, and your proficiency with martial arts was a huge bonus when combined with physically fitting the description of your character. You were a bit taller, but everything else fit well enough.

A bit too well in some ways. But first you needed to go through the chemistry testing with the actress they were considering for the role of Tara Carpenter, your love interest and the character around who the entire plot would revolve in some ways, since she was the sister of the main character and the victim of the first attack, setting everything in motion. Tara was to be the glue for the new main trio of her, her sister and your character, and from what you heard the actress, Jenna Ortega, already did an amazing job with the actress cast to play Sam Carpenter.

With another deep breath you went inside the building. The air conditioning immediately provided you with a much-needed relief as you made your way up the stairs, ignoring the elevator that was right there. A minute or two later you were in front of the office doors. You knocked twice and the door opened, revealing one of the directors of the movie, Matt.

“Come in, come in,” he certainly looked excited as he ushered you inside, you were ten minutes early, but it was clear you were the last one to arrive.

“Damn, should have gotten here earlier,” you rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably, being the last to arrive, even if you did come here earlier than expected, was never fun.

“It’s all good, I was just telling Jenna about the scene the two of you will do together,” Matt motioned toward a beautiful girl that looked like she was one or maybe two years younger than you, dressed perfectly between casual and professional, and that seemed a bit familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you’ve seen her before.

You looked to the side as you tried to remember where you knew her from. She was sitting next to an older woman, you guessed mid or late forties, that looked a lot like her, so you assumed it was her mother.

“That’s a relief,” you approached the girl and offered your hand to her. “Y/N L/N, nice to meet you,” you smiled, too late realizing the mask hid your smile, as she stood up and accepted the handshake.

“I’m Jenna Ortega, pleasure to meet you too,” her handshake was firm, but even more than that, her voice finally made it click where you knew her from. They would really be dumb if they didn’t hire her, considering just how amazing she was in You season 2.

You nodded as Jenna sat down and offered your hand to the woman next to her as well. “Y/N.”

“Natalie, nice to meet you,” the woman nodded as well and you turned back to Jenna as you sat down on a chair to her left, with a seat between the two of you.

“You, right? Season 2?” you were about ninety nine percent sure you got it right. The emotional scene she had in the season was the highlight of it for you and it was mind blowing for you that she was basically still a child when she filmed it.

Her eyes widened and you winced, fearing you made her uncomfortable, but she recovered quickly and nodded. “Yes, thank you, I mean,” she buried her face in her hands. “God,” she whispered, clearly embarrassed.

“No, it’s all good, I was about to say you were great,” you tried, you really did, to salvage the first meeting, but when she still looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her to save her from embarrassment, you were kind of lost and unsure of what to do. Luckily, you were saved by Matt.

He faked a cough and gave you the scene you were meant to do with Jenna. It was one of the two scenes you did for your audition, the first being a bit of the action scene, just so they could be sure you were fit for the physical side of the role. As if working at the gym and teaching several martial arts classes wasn’t enough. “Jenna, Y/N, please move to the couch and the chair we set up, Jenna, you’re meant to start lying down, the relationship between your characters leans a lot on the touch, so do it as if you were filming the scene. Y/N, you’ve got water right behind you,” he instructed the two of you as you removed your masks and as if in an instant you saw a shift in Jenna, as if she was completely focused on the task, and nothing else mattered.

Matt, the other director Tyler, and several other people observed the two of you as you got into position.

“And action!” Tyler instructed you.

You sat, still, acting as if you were in deep thought, trying to get inside the mind of your character. It felt easy, natural, and you were reminded of just how much fun you had when acting before, and it felt so damn right to be doing it again. Even after all the time you spent resisting it once you had the chance to do it again it felt like all of that resistance vanished and you embraced the role. For your character the girl she was in love with just barely survived a vicious attack and she spent the last twelve hours sitting by the girl’s side, waiting for Tara to wake up,

Jenna groaned, and you jumped to your feet, but froze mid-step, your body filled with tension. You continued watching carefully as Jenna opened her eyes and as your eyes met you relaxed your posture.

She blinked a few times before she focused on you. “C/N,” she said your character’s name, prompting you to snap into action and fill a glass of water. You went back to Jenna, and she raised her neck, taking a few sips as you slowly tilted the glass for her.

“Easy, I got you,” you moved once more, kneeling on one knee next to the couch, your hand brushing against the back of Jenna’s right hand. She didn’t flinch away, but you saw the panic and fear in her eyes, and it took your breath away how into character she got. “Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you still moved, quickly reaching up to cradle her cheek. “Okay? You’re safe,” you softened the tone of your voice considerably, and the two of you remained like that, waiting for the slight pause in the scene to play out.

And then Jenna sobbed, with so much emotion you damn near felt the exact need to protect her your character felt for her character. “Please, don’t leave me,” her eyes filled with tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” you wiped her tears away, though it wasn’t a part of the script, you just felt like that was something your character would do, and much to your surprise Jenna actually leaned into your touch, playing along with your slightly improvisation.

“You promise?” she asked, her tone so vulnerable, filled with emotion and pushing you to be even better, to give even more of yourself. You felt it at that moment, the instant connection, the instant chemistry, the same way you did years ago with your co-star and semi-mentor.

“I promise. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” you smiled back as she smiled slightly.

“Could you help me sit up?” Jenna went on with the scene, and you nodded, helping her sit up with as much care as you could while getting into the position your character needed to be in. Jenna leaned the back of her head onto your left shoulder, and you opened your mouth, your eyes meeting hers. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

And it was truly an awkward position, but you hugged her from behind, your left arm just beneath her neck. “Is this okay?” you asked, and not just as your character. Sure, your characters were meant to be close, but you just met and more than anything you wanted her to be comfortable.

“Yeah,” she relaxed against you for a few moments. “Did they catch him?”

Everything was calm between the two of you. “Not as far as I know.”

Jenna turned, leaning closer and burying her face in the crook of your neck and you nearly flinched, as it wasn’t part of the script, though you couldn’t deny it did fit the description of the relationship between your characters. “I’m so scared C/N,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling your skin.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” you said, hugging her a bit tighter than before.

“Cut!” Matt exclaimed and the two of you separated immediately and you watched as Jenna slowly slipped out of character as she moved to sit on the couch with you. And then you both saw the approval on Matt and Tyler’s faces, which was a very good sign.

“Great you two! That was wonderful!” Tyler praised you and you turned to Jenna with a grin on your face, the previous embarrassment forgotten as you raised your hand for a high-five, which she accepted, her eyes shining with excitement, and a tiny bit of embarrassment over the praise.

You could see this movie meant a lot to her, and you were really happy you didn’t fuck it up, in fact, you were almost certain you’d be working together on it after a chemistry test this successful.

~X~

You let a few days pass, not really waiting for the call, but always keeping your phone close. Funnily enough you were in a similar position your character was in. You’ve been training, practicing various martial arts and you were at a bit of a crossroad, stuck between acting and pursuing a career in MMA. The only reason you didn’t try to be a professional MMA fighter was because Barbara and Tom, your actual manager, and most importantly Hugh, demanded that you at least give acting another shot before going down that path.

Getting a serious injury to the face and trying to restart your acting career wasn’t something anyone would advise you to do.

Still, you had a feeling you were forgetting something these past few days, like there was something you didn’t do and probably should have.

You just came out of the shower, fresh after an average solo training session, when you phone rang. It was Tim, and since he was calling, and he very rarely called, preferring to text instead, you figured it was either really good, or really bad news. “What’s up?” you asked as you walked over to your sofa and grabbed a TV remote. Might as well watch something to pass time.

“You might want to pack your bags,” he certainly sounded happy. “You’re heading to Wilmington, you got the role in Scream 5!” he exclaimed and you almost dropped your remote with how happy he sounded. “Welcome back to acting X-23,” he joked and you laughed at that.

The movie you did years ago, Logan. And the reason why no one really recognized you, they all thought you’d be much younger than you were. The truth was, you filmed Logan back in 2013 and the start of 2014, but since several X-Men movies were yet to be released and spacing them a bit made money, combined with the decision that Logan would be Hugh’s last time playing Wolverine the movie got pushed to 2017.

Still, it was one hell of a starting point.

You still rolled your eyes at that. “Looking forward to it,” and you did. If the chemistry test with Jenna was any indication you were in for a really good experience. “Well, better start packing,” you figured and said your goodbyes to your manager.

About an hour later you got a notification on your phone and glanced at it. It was simple, Jenna Ortega has requested to follow you from Instagram. Your eyes widened and you smacked your forehead, so that’s what you’ve been forgetting to do. Well, you did have a private account so- ah, what the hell, you were just looking for excuses as you quickly accepted the request and followed her back.

And so you sat back, wondering if you should send her a message, congratulate her on getting the role because you were a hundred percent sure she got it. Or if you should just say hi, or anything really, and as you sat there, looking at the empty messages and wondering what you should do while the music played on TV you saw Jenna typing.

“Shit!” you cursed and exited the messages as if having Jenna immediately see ‘seen’ on the message would mean being caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You lowered your phone onto the table and watched it like a hawk, resisting the temptation to see if she was still typing, but minutes later your screen didn’t light up and you raised an eyebrow at that. She changed her mind?

And now you felt guilty because it felt like you knew something you shouldn’t. So, swallowing your pride and ignoring the slight fear you decided to send her a message after all.

18:21 Y/N L/N: Hey, sorry you had to follow me first, I’m not really all that active here

There, you sent it, nice, simple message. Nothing to worry about.

18:22 Jenna Ortega: Hi! It’s fine, don’t worry about it! I was thinking, I mean if you don’t have anything planned, maybe you’d like to meet up and get to know each other over a lunch?

Your jaw dropped for a moment, but when you thought about it, it really was a logical move, you should spend some time together before acting as characters that were supposed to be best friends turned lovers.

18:23 Jenna Ortega: No pressure, I understand if you’re busy!

You bit the inside of your cheek at that, she was backtracking because you took too long too answer after reading the message.

18:23 Y/N L/N: I do want to meet up!

18:23 Y/N L/N: I was a bit surprised, but it makes sense. Where do you want to meet?

~X~

In the end you agreed to meet up in Los Angeles where Jenna was wrapping up filming another movie. You managed to resist Googling the younger girl, wanting to hear it from her instead of going in knowing things about her. But you did hear her name popping up every now and then, a young, extremely talented actress that wasn’t even eighteen, hard-working and wonderful to work with.

A child actress, you knew that much without having to search for information on the internet. She decided to do it, to basically sacrifice regular childhood in favor of going to work. You felt lots of things regarding that, but you wanted to get to know Jenna better before you decided which of those many feelings prevailed.

You stood near the doors of a small diner Jenna recommended to meet up at, waiting for her. You were a bit nervous and ended up arriving twenty minutes earlier than you agreed to meet up. You could have gone in, ordered a drink, found a way to pass time inside instead of out in the street, but you just simply didn’t. Instead, you opened your phone and began reading ‘The House of Voices’ the book the script that caught your interest was based on. You were still in the talks for that movie, and if you got the role filming wouldn’t start for some time, so there wouldn’t be a scheduling issue.

You still wanted to get familiar with the source material. And the book was good, so that was a bonus.

You barely read a couple of pages when the sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention and you looked to the side to see Jenna there, fifteen minutes early, dressed in a casual white T-shirt and plain jeans. Not a lot different from the casual clothes you chose to wear. “Hey,” you smiled, putting your phone away, only to realize you weren’t sure if you should offer her your hand or go for a hug.

Luckily, Jenna, either on purpose or by accident, solved that problem for you when she stopped forward, smiling shyly with arms spread slightly, inviting you in for a hug. “Thanks for agreeing to meet up,” she said as you hugged her. Her hold on you wasn’t too tight, but it wasn’t loose either, it wasn’t forced.

“Of course,” you replied and motioned toward the door when you separated. “Shall we?” you asked, making Jenna quickly nod. You smiled as she turned away, clearly more nervous than you anticipated she would be. You weren’t sure what about you caused her to be so nervous, but, you figured she just needed some time, so you let her lead the way into the diner and choosing seats near the corner, just to give both of you some extra privacy. Which wasn’t that difficult, seeing as the diner was almost empty. The soft melody of a violin playing seemed to soothe her as you both sat down.

“Did you wait for too long?” Jenna asked as you both got comfortable, the diner went for more casual and comfortable seating, going for sofas and lower tables instead of usual chairs.

You shook your head at that. “Just a few minutes, don’t worry about it,” especially since she came early as well.

Jenna nodded, not even bothering to hide the relief on her face as you said that. You decided even that early into knowing her, that she worried too much. You arrived early and you were aware that you were early. Any waiting that could have happened was on you.

A waitress approached the two of you and you both ordered, Jenna deciding on baked beans and you going for a risotto.

“Weather is much nicer here,” you suddenly said, glancing outside the window toward the clear sky before turning back to Jenna. “Denver’s been a bit cloudy these past few days,” you explained and watched as Jenna’s eyes widened a bit.

“You came here from Denver?” she asked, almost sounding astounded by that discovery. “I’m so sorry, I thought you’d still be in a hotel or something!” she quickly apologized, but you just shrugged.

“Hey, I accepted to come here, didn’t I? It’s all good,” you couldn’t do much more than just try and reassure her with your words.

Jenna just groaned and lowered her head. “It’s just, since so much is happening here I thought you’d be living close to here, make connections, make it easier to book auditions,” she explained and it made sense to you.

There was one thing she didn’t know though. “Oh, I’m not really working as an actress at the moment,” you admitted and were honestly a bit amused by how quickly she looked at you. “Well, I was, I did a movie as a child, figured I could wait until I grew up and now I’m sort of trying to get back in,” you summed it up.

Jenna nodded, looking a bit regretful when she heard you say that. “Sometimes I wish I made that choice too,” her eyes widened, as if she didn’t expect to reveal that. “I mean, I’m extremely lucky to be doing this, but there are some downsides.”

You could agree with that. You probably would have gone down the same path, if it wasn’t for one detail. “I nearly stayed as well, but then Hugh told me I didn’t have to rush it, that I should be a child first,” you explained, revealing bits about yourself that you didn’t usually speak about as easily as you did just now. You just felt like, since Jenna was so sincere, you owed her the same honesty.

The silence that followed was strangely comfortable, like two long-time friends just existing in each other’s company. Neither of you felt the need to rush the conversation. “So, horror?” you eventually broke the silence and started the conversation.

Jenna’s face immediately lit up with an almost child-like excitement and you leaned in subconsciously. “It’s just pure fun, you know. It’s this release, combining the thrill and fear, and everyone loves it. There’s passion, and deep understanding of what the story is supposed to be, that it isn’t meant to only provoke thoughts, but that it’s supposed to give people watching a relief from everyday worries, an escape of sorts. I, I think it ended up being an escape for me too,” she didn’t even seem to try to wipe off the grin on her face as you listened to her, completely focused on her words and soaking their meaning in. “Sorry, I’m rambling,” she apologized, blushing slightly as if she just caught herself doing it.

“Not at all. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it from that perspective, but I can see it,” the fact that more often than not the villain was much stronger than the hero just worked, just made it more engaging. “We are kinda breaking the rules with our characters, aren’t we?”

Jenna thought it over for a moment and then nodded. “Now that you mention it, yeah. Tara survives the opening, while the scene pays homage to the flawless opening of the original,” she took a sip of her drink, buying some time so she could collect her thoughts. “And your character feels stronger than Ghostface, to the point of fighting two on one and still having an upper hand until they take my character hostage,” she pointed out.

“You’ve been a fan of these movies for some time, I’m guessing,” you paused, watching her nod at that. “How do those things make you feel?” especially regarding your own character.

Jenna didn’t bother hiding it this time, she just fell silent, and you could see she was taking her time, figuring out the way to word her answer. “It’s fresh, risky, but fresh. Ghostface has always been just a regular human with a knife, it’s plausible that someone trained would beat them. And Tara surviving just needs to happen for the plot to happen, so, you know,” she finished kinda sheepishly and you nodded smiling as the two of you continued talking for hours after that.

~X~

When Jenna came back to her hotel room that night it was already close to midnight, and you met up just a bit after three o’clock! She leaned back against the door of her hotel room, not even aware of the smile on her face as she closed her eyes. She had to admit she was worried about spending a portion of her day off like this, but not only did she spent more time with you than she anticipated, but she didn’t regret it one bit.

She pulled her phone out of her purse for the first time in almost nine hours and immediately wished for ground to swallow her whole. All the excitement and fun of the day just vanished into thin air, replaced by anxiety squeezing at her heart. She couldn’t even count the number of missed calls and texts from her family and Enrique, as well as Maddie. She took a deep breath, calming down her anxiety and calling her mom. For a moment she considered calling Aliyah, and letting her spread the news that she was fine, but she knew she had to reassure her mom herself.

“Jenna Marie Ortega, you’ve shortened my life by a decade!” her mom immediately shouted, and Jenna honestly couldn’t blame her. When she met up with Maddie before the movie they met up early and while they spent more time together they separated at a much earlier hour. This time Jenna didn’t even consider taking the time to call anyone while she was with you.

“Sorry!” she quickly apologized. “I’m fine, I promise, we just lost track of time,” she said sheepishly. And you did, the diner closed at ten and you really should have gone separate ways at that point, but Jenna offered you a walk, which ended up taking you both to a park.

“God help me, Jenna,” her mom sighed, but she could hear the immeasurable relief in her mom’s voice, and her guilt seemed to increase tenfold due to that.

“If it makes you feel any better, she walked me back to the hotel,” Jenna offered, remembering how you insisted on walking her back to the hotel, refusing to let her walk alone this late at night, and promising you’d send her a message when you came back to your hotel room. You parted ways with a hug, firmer than the one you had when you met up. Longer as well.

“I’m guessing it went well?” as if the time she spent with you wasn’t the answer to that question already.

She smiled once more, remembering just how often you made her laugh today, how many times you made her feel heard and seen with each topic either of you started. Going back and forth, discussing different ideas, talking about childhood. She found out you were an only child, but not much else about your family. But you did tell her about your experience as a child actress for a bit. And only then did Jenna realize she forgot to ask which movie you were in. A question for another day, she supposed. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time,” she easily admitted, feeling excited to work with you and eventually get to know you even better.

Her mom softened up at that, there was no doubt about it. “I can hear it in your voice,” she pointed out. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I’ll tell everyone you’re fine, I love you,” and Jenna was thankful for that, she really wanted to go to sleep as quickly as possible.

“Thanks mom, love you too,” she hung up and smiled when her phone buzzed again.

23:57 Y/N L/N: Safe and sound. Sleep well, Jen

Jen… She just now noticed that at some point during the day you began calling her by a nickname.

She was worried about Scream. She was worried about the opening scene, about living up to what they were trying to do, and she was still worried about that. But this, meeting up with you, it eased her bigger worries. You had a kiss together, you would be carrying her, not to mention all the scenes you’d have in bed, lying next to each other. So, she was worried about all of that, worried about not getting along with someone she’s supposed to film all those scenes with, to hug and be held, and to kiss with.

There was no need to worry about that. If today was any indication she would be more than comfortable with you on and off camera.

~X~

You arrived at the hotel a day before the shooting began, and you settled in, appreciating that the room had pretty much everything you would need. And though the hotel itself didn’t have a gym there was one nearby in case you felt the need, or more likely, had the time to get a workout in.

You sent Barbara and Tom a message, letting them know you arrived and that things were going well. There was no one else to contact, the directors knew you arrived, so you just pulled out the script you were given, the final script, and began reading through it. The role you got did, in fact, require at least the build of an MMA fighter, preferably with skills to back it up, you certainly had an intense action scene coming up.

What caught your attention was just how physical the relationship between your character and Jenna’s character was. In damn near every scene you read where your character was on screen Tara was also present, and every time there was some touch involved, be it holding hands or Tara leaning on C/N. So, they were absolutely right when they got Jenna and you to do chemistry read in person instead over Zoom or some other platform.

A knock on your doors made you set the script aside, about a third of the way read, and you got up to open the doors. The woman you saw in front of your doors looked absolutely beautiful, even more beautiful in person than in the Zoom meeting the entire cast had not too long ago.

“Hi, Melissa, right?” you still wanted to make sure.

Since her mask was hanging beneath her chin you saw the smile on her face. “Yeah, you’re Y/N?” you nodded at that. “Great, could you come with me to my room for a few minutes?” she asked, pointing behind her down and down the hall, and though you were a bit confused you nodded. She didn’t look like she came just to hang out or say hi.

“Of course,” with that you closed the doors behind you and followed Melissa through the halls. The hotel you were staying in had pictures hung on the walls, beautiful paintings, some abstract art, modern and more traditional, pretty much something for everyone, without a clear theme. Or, at least, you weren’t sure if there was a pattern. Granted, you just arrived and didn’t have time to observe it closely. Still, it was pleasant to see.

“So, I managed to find something out,” she said and you glanced toward her. “And I’ve been wondering if you’re interested in helping us out?” you still had no idea what she was talking about, but when you came into her room you found most of your costars close to you in age. Jasmin, Mason, Mikey, Jack, Dylan and Sonia were there.

“Hey there,” you raised your hand to greet them, though you definitely noticed Jenna wasn’t there. She probably didn’t arrive yet, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t really looking forward to seeing her again. “So, what’s up?”

“Jenna is turning eighteen on Sunday, so, would you like to help us make a bit of a party for her?” Melissa explained and you grinned.

“Count me in,” somehow the birthday dates never came up when you two hung out in Los Angeles, but you were more than happy to help with this. The time you spent with Jenna that day was easily one of the best days you had in a long time. You felt at ease, relaxed, there was no pressure, or any kind of judgment in her eyes. She was just accepting, a wonderful person and you couldn’t think of any you’d work on this movie with you’d rather do this for.

“Great, what can you do?” Mikey asked, and that got you thinking. What would be the best way to help with this surprise birthday party? Well, you knew your answer, the question was how much could you hide from Jenna?

“I can cook,” and that, funnily enough, got your costars laughing, after all that was one of the things your character did for a living.

Damn, now it felt a bit like the role was made for you, either way, you sat down and while Jenna was oblivious to what was happening in Melissa’s room all of you began making plans for Sunday.

A/N: I am still very much on the fence about this, but, here you go, the first chapter. Tell me what you think, and I dunno... Taglist? Yes? No?

Masterlist / Next part

[wonderjanga]

Rewrite of the Shazam! Movie

I… personally disliked the Shazam movie. It could’ve been better in my opinion. So, this is how I think the movie should’ve gone.

So… let’s just get to it.

It’s 1944 during the height of World War II. People are abuzz with wanting to learn all the newest updates on the war. Whiz Radio is a Fawcett owned company on the verge of bankruptcy due to its lack of popularity.

The movie opens with Billy running from a couple men. In his hands are a couple of canned food items, bread, and other things. The opening credits would simply be Billy running past a wall plastered with posters advertising the new position open at Whiz. Every time a person would run in front of the wall, the credit would change to another person. So like Billy would run and the opening director’s name would appear, one of the men running after him would pass in front of the wall and the screen writer’s name would appear, etc. There can be like ten dudes for comedic effect.

During this entire chase, Billy would be nameless, the only things he’d be called are brat, thief, etc by the men. He eventually lose them in an alleyway and retreat to whatever hobbit hole he’s staying in. On his trudge back home he’d pass by a mansion, Ebenezer’s mansion, because remember he stole Billy’s inheritance. He’d stop and stare and we’d get a whole flashback of him learning how his parents and sister died, his uncle kicking him out, and so on. This is where we’d actually learn Billy’s name. After this, he’d continue his trudge back home and that scene would end with him walking into his apartment and closing the door with the camera getting the door shut in it’s face.

The next scene would start with Billy opening the door and heading out. We’d see a little bit of Billy’s day such as him taking on odd jobs and such for cash. But, when he’s on his way back home, he hears a whisper and looks over to see… his dad? We don’t actually get to see his dad‘s face. It’s just fuzzy. He waves to him and walks off with Billy following after.

Billy: “Dad?”

Billy’s Dad(?): *doesn’t answer and keeps walking*

Billy: “Dad?” *sounds more urgent*

Billy’s Dad(?) leads to the train station. They get a cute little moment of waiting by the tracks together were fuzzy C.C. offers his hand which Billy takes as they get on the train. As soon as they get on the train, Billy’s dad disappears and Billy’s left alone.

Then, fast forward the usual thing. The Wizard tells him that he’s worthy and pure hearted, and that he should be the Champion of Magic and to light the brazier if he ever needs him. Like usual he dies from getting crushed by the rock.

We see Billy stuck with no idea of what to do with his Marvel form. But, he gets his idea to be a superhero when he’s walking out of the train station and passes by a war propaganda poster with Bulletman and Spy Smasher on it. We get a quick little monologue about how they’re both amazing heroes and Billy even drops a little detail about how he used to have Bulletman’s action figure. This is when one Billy decides that he wants to be like them. A hero who can spread joy through saving others. Someone with a greater purpose. Someone who is more than Billy Batson. (Place emphasis on the self-deprecation of how he wants to be more) The scene ends there with the camera facing Billy’s back as he stares at the poster.

The next scene opens with Captain Marvel’s back to the camera. It’s now been two weeks and Billy is now officially Captain Marvel. We get a little scene of him, stopping a purse snatcher like it’s nothing. Right after him stopping the snatcher is when Sivana’s finally introduced. He’s also Danny DeVito because I say so. Anyways, since the movie is meant to be lighthearted, Sivana acts much like a cartoon supervillain. He has this robot suit and they duke it out before Marvel beats him and takes him to jail.

Of course, Sivana breaks out, but while he’s breaking out, Billy is at the Whiz Radio trying to get the job because he needs money. We get a little scene of Mr. Morris interviewing Billy.

Mr. Morris: “Now, do you have any experience reporting? In the slightest?”

Billy: *in the fanciest clothes he could find, aka his red and yellow sweater with his jeans* “Ah… no. But I tell stories to the other homeless kids and they like them. So, I was kinda hoping that would be enough….?”

Yeah, Billy was not Mr. Morris‘s first choice. So instead, Mr. Morris makes a deal that if Billy can turn in Sivana, he’d give the kid the job, not that he believed the kid could catch a Supervillain. After this interaction, Billy leaves bummed that he probably isn’t gonna get it because he thought Sivana was just a one off thing and was still in jail. Eventually, though he finds out, he broke out.

So Marvel goes around looking for Sivana only to realize that this time it won’t be so easy to catch him. Somehow, Sivana upgraded from that one incident with Marvel. This results in Marvel running around, actually having to gather information as both Billy and Marvel, both through spying as a little kid, and intimidating goons as a grown man. Every time he can uncover a little bit of information we get shown in a notepad with facts on it and as the information gathering goes on, it gets filled with more and more notes and even little drawings and scribbles too. I would also like to see Billy scratchy handwriting, and Marvel‘s beautiful handwriting, alternating.

Unfortunately, when Billy is spying on some more goons, he accidentally gets caught and tied to a chair. This is where he meets Sivana face-to-face as Billy instead of Marvel.

Sivana: “That imbecile sent a kid? Gosh.” *rolls his eyes*

So, yes, he gets trash talked straight to his face and then alone in the in the room. This is when Billy discovers that he doesn’t need Marvel to be great. He gets his Miles Morales moment and lightnings the binds off of him, rips off the gag covering his mouth and says his magic word. Billy leaves as Marvel and as Sivana is wrecking havoc, he gets sent a video from a security camera in the room of Billy transforming.

Sivana: “It was that little brat the whole time?! The sneaky little thing was right under my nose!”

He throws a bit of a temper tantrum, and Marvel finally shows up to throw hands. They have their big battle, they somehow end up in a secluded area, Marvel finally beat him, and drags him to the Whiz building as Billy. The scene ends with Billy walking into Mr. Morris‘s office with Sivana knocked out. He has the biggest widest smile on his face. He looks the happiest he’s ever been in this movie. This scene ends like the first one with closing the door on the camera, but with Billy proclaiming that they have to talk business.

The end.

As for the end credits, after they play, we get a tiny little tidbit at the end that’s supposed to take place two years later and it's of Sivana working on a something with his back faced towards the camera while in the background, we hear Billy on the radio reporting on something. The camera then proceeds to slowly pan over him until it’s looking directly down on him and you can see in nice big bold letters: Suspendium.

Yup. The Suspendium bomb.

Boom. Perfect cliffhanger. I’m out. Deuces. I’m going to sleep now.

[dorabellingham]

Christmas tree

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: where you're going to fix up his house for Christmas, which you are going to spend together

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a cold, cloudy morning in the spanish capital, the perfect kind of day to start christmas preparations. You were excited, which was rare when it came to household chores, but decorating the house for christmas for the first time in two years was special. You and Jude were finally ready to transform your home into a real christmas postcard.

—Jude! —You called from the living room, adjusting a huge bag full of decorations you had bought the day before. —We need to start now, or we’ll never finish before Christmas!

Jude appeared in the hallway, his hair still messy from the night’s sleep, but with a smile on his face.

—Calm down, sweetie. You’re already turning this into a Champions League final!

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave away how excited you were.

—I’m just trying to get the Christmas spirit going, Bellingham.

Jude laughed and walked over to you, hugging you from behind and kissing your shoulder.

—Okay, you’re in charge, boss. Where do we start?

—For the tree, of course!

You replied, pointing to the huge box that was leaning against the wall.

You spent the next few minutes taking out all the parts of the artificial christmas tree. Jude insisted that he could put it together without the manual, while you stood by, clearly skeptical.

—Babe, this is crooked!

You said, watching as he adjusted the top of the tree.

—No, it’s not, it’s your perspective. You’re too short to see it properly.

You snorted, but couldn’t help but laugh.

—Just try not to knock it over, please.

After a lot of laughing and a few failed attempts, the tree was finally standing. You started opening the boxes of decorations and fairy lights, carefully separating everything.

—Okay, now just put this here…

You pulled out the string of lights, but you didn’t expect it to be so long. In seconds, it was completely tangled in fairy lights.

Jude, of course, started laughing.

—Look, you turned into the ornament!

—It’s not funny! Help me, Jude!

He approached, trying to untangle you, but ended up getting even more tangled up. When he realized it, he was also stuck in the lights, and the two of you started laughing uncontrollably.

—This is like something out of a romcom movie.

You said between laughs, trying to get free.

—Well, at least we’re shining!

Jude joked, blinking his eyes as if imitating the lights.

After freeing yourselves, you began to decorate the tree with the ornaments. You were meticulous, trying to create a perfect pattern, while Jude simply hung things wherever he found fun.

—Jude Victor! You put two red balls on the same branch!

You exclaimed, putting your hands on your hips.

—So what? They’re friends, Y/n.

You shook your head, laughing.

—You’re impossible.

Meanwhile, Jude started humming a christmas song, improvising the lyrics hilariously. You couldn't resist and ended up singing along.

When they finished the tree, you took a step back to admire your work.

—Isn't it perfect?

—It is.

Jude replied, but his eyes were on you, not the tree.

—You're not even looking!

—Because the best part of Christmas is right here, huh?!

He said, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.

After that, you moved on to the rest of the decorations. Jude was in charge of hanging the lights outside, which resulted in some complaints from the neighbors due to their height and his noisy antics.

When they were finished, the house was beautiful, with a warm glow that made the atmosphere even more special. You sat on the couch, exhausted but happy.

—You know what's missing?

Jude asked, with a mischievous smile.

—What?

You replied, arranging a pillow next to you.

—My presents.

You laughed, shaking your head.

—Oh, sure. Is that all you think?

—It’s not my fault if I’ve been a good husband all year. I deserve something special.

—You already have the best present in the world: me.

—That’s true...

He said, pretending to agree seriously.

You threw a pillow at him, and the two of you burst out laughing again. As you looked at the tree shining in the living room, you both felt your hearts warm. It was the beginning of a Christmas that would surely be remembered forever.