#roommate: uhhh. i’m just going to order toppings?

[theweatherinmyhead]

An Incomplete List of Things I Thought Were Normal as a Child:

Leaving half a banana on the cutting board in the morning “for the next person”

Sautéing your own pizza toppings at home while someone goes to pick up a plain cheese pizza

Putting a pot of leftover soup for tomorrow outside the back door in the winter

Washing tin foil to reuse until it falls apart

Keeping the house at 58°-62° F in winter

Getting around to dinner after 7:30pm at the earliest

Turning off lights/closing doors every time you leave a room, even if you’re coming back

Getting up to unlock the door and turn on porch lights when you hear a car pull in the driveway

[babyboibucky]

I can’t help but think about either a fluffy or smutty birthday with either college!bucky or roommate!bucky

Just like him walking up to you with a single cupcake with a single candle and otherwise either in boxers or naked.

But he also might want to take you out and do something really nice even tho he doesn’t have much money (cause college or sharing an apartment)

But he’d also be down to try that kinky thing you’ve wanted to try.

Basically he’d be super sweet and soft but also the kinky shit comes out because it’s your day and he wants to feel special. But if his gift to you is also a gift to him, win-win.

It’s my birthday tomorrow and this is all I want lmao 😂🥺

FIRST OF ALL, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! ILYSM 😘

Here’s my birthday gift to you!!!

-

hey bday girl, come on over 🥳😏😘

You narrowed your eyes at Bucky’s text message, not from being suspicious but because it’s barely eight in the morning. On a Saturday. Both of you didn’t have classes and agreed to celebrate your birthday by having lunch out with your moms.

So what was he up to now?

it’s not even 8am yet, what do u want

i have surprise for you, come quick!!! 😚😚😚

im barely up yet, buck

ugh fine, i knew this wud happen. be there in 15. brush ur teeth pls, i want a kiss frm the bday girl 😗

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t bite back your smile. Since you were kids, Bucky always made sure to surprise you on your birthday and he was always successful. Except for your 12th birthday when he gave you a live frog as a gift, thinking you’d get excited over it since you loved the Princess and the Frog.

After brushing your teeth, you didn’t bother changing your clothes and waited for Bucky. Exactly fifteen minutes later, there was a series of loud knocks on your door.

“Happy Birthday!!!” Bucky greeted, wearing a triangular newspaper hat as he held up a peanut butter sandwich with a candle propped on top of it.

“Yeah so I wasn’t able to buy you a cake but I made you a peanut butter sandwich! Blow your candle so you can blow something else later.” He smirked.

You chuckled and shook your head, blowing out the candle before pulling Bucky into your room by the hem of his shirt. Bucky removed his hat and perched it on top of your head, placing the sandwich on top of your study desk before dipping his head for a kiss.

“You wanna see your surprise?” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you again.

You pulled back and nodded, “What is this surprise you’re talking about?”

Bucky took a step back and opened up his arms, “Open him up!” He exclaimed, motioning towards his pants.

You already knew what Bucky wanted to give you as a surprise. He had been making puns about you blowing his dick on your birthday that this wasn’t a surprise anymore. You were still going to enjoy yourself nonetheless. However, upon unzipping Bucky’s jeans and pulling his pants down, you were met with quite an unexpected gift.

His penis had a red ribbon wrapped around it.

You snorted and looked up at him from where you knelt down, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You burst out laughing, staring at his red ribboned cock.

Bucky laughed and pulled at the ribbon, removing it before pulling his pants back up, “Yeah, I am kidding. I just wanted to make you laugh.” He admitted, “But you can suck my cock later.” He added.

“I did buy you a gift though.” He said and fished out something from his back pocket.

It was wrapped in a pink sheet with a white bow on top. You grabbed it from his hands and ripped the wrapper, revealing a black lace underwear.

“Underwear?” You asked.

Bucky smirked, taking out a rectangular plastic from his pocket— a tiny remote.

“Vibrating panties.” He corrected proudly. “You said you wanted to experience wearing one so I saved up and bought you that.” He sheepishly admitted.

You bit your lip, preventing a squeal from escaping your throat but failed to do so. You jumped into Bucky’s arms for a hug and gave his nose a soft peck.

“What can I ever do to thank you?” You genuinely asked, because vibrating panties are pretty expensive and for Bucky to save up to buy you a pair? He deserved something in return.

Bucky licked his lips, “Wear it when we go out for lunch.”

-

“Happy birthday, darling! I missed you!” Your mom greeted as soon as you and Bucky arrived at the restaurant.

You hugged her tightly, “Thank yo—ohhh!” You almost squealed when you felt your panties vibrate.

“You okay, sweetie?” Your mom asked.

You straightened up and widened your eyes at Bucky, his hand inside the pocket where he placed the remote. He merely smirked at you.

“I’m good. Just felt my stomach rumble.” You nervously chuckled.

“Well, then sit down! Let’s order. What do you want, honey?” Bucky’s mom asked.

You took the menu and hid your face behind it, all the while Bucky toyed with the level of vibration. Your knuckles were turning white as you tightly gripped the menu, your lips turning red from how hard you were biting back your moans. Bucky watched you with amusement, placing a hand on your thigh and squeezing at it.

“What do you want to order?” He asked teasingly.

“Um, I’ll have the past-uhhh…” you accidentally moaned but immediately coughed.

“The what now?” Bucky asked again.

“Pasta— oh fuck….” You grunted when it vibrated again. “I dropped my phone. Fuck.” You said as an excuse and bent down.

“Watch your mouth, young lady.” Your mom warned.

You stayed bent down as Bucky continued to press on the remote, your legs knotting around each other as you felt your abdomen tighten. A devious plan hatched in your mind.

“I’m watching my mouth, mom.” You responded as your hand moved to unzip Bucky’s jeans.

He looked down at you incredulously but made no move to stop you when you bent down to lick a stripe against his clothed bulge before sitting up straight.

Bucky swallowed as he turned to you, eyes wide because holy fuck, he didn’t expect for you to do that in public. While you were in front of your moms.

“You two have any plans for the rest of the day?” Your mom asked as he glanced at you and Bucky.

“Oh yeah, we’ll have a lot of fun later. In fact, I have more surprises planned out for your daughter. I do hope she gasps out loud when she finds out about it.”

-

THIS GOT LONG LMFAO I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, BABY!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

[mikrowrites]

•aaron tveit headcanons•

a/n: aight guys I’m not dead! i haven’t really had the time to write much, but aaron tveit lives in my heart rent free so here’s these dumb kinda specific really long headcanons:

so you both probably met pretty early into aaron’s career

it’s probably safe to say both of you would have the same if not similar careers, broadway and acting

and though aaron was lucky enough to get his big break, you had unfortunately not (yet) and had to wait tables for a couple years after college

(insert waitress/customer troupe here)

you worked at a restaurant close to the theatre district after undergrad and aaron was starring in Hairspray

the boy saw you and was w h i p p e d

would come to the restaurant like 4 days a week

kinda creeped you out ngl

finally got the balls to actually start a conversation and boom: instant friends

and you guys were friends for a while! dumbass and chaotic conversation was a YES

“did you know barcodes scan the white space and not the black lines”

“WAIT WHAT??”

“how many orders of fries would put me in the er?”

“uhhh... 30”

you first caught feelings when aaron invited you to see him as Fiyero in Wicked

was it his amazing talent and charm? or was it his tight pants? you’d never tell

but nevertheless, oh shit! the friends to lovers troupe!

aaron is a manly man™️ and will always say he asked you out first

which is somewhat true, but you always argue the dinner you took him to after that show was the first date

because that’s when you first kissed him

and just like that! he asks you out!

first date is literally a d r e a m

no romantic dinner, no dress and tux

there was wine tho

you and aaron watched a Yankees game and got drunk off your asses laughing and screaming at the tv and annoying aaron’s roommate

did it end with both of you passed out on his couch cuddling? maybe it did

best. first. date. ever.

the second date WAS a nicer one, going out to eat and wandering the streets of New York City

and yes, some dates were ABSOLUTELY a par 9 on a golf course

you didn’t really put a label on your relationship for a while

because aaron’s career began to take off with next to normal and you finally got your big break on a national tour!

it was pretty bittersweet, though

you and aaron had a healthy conversation about your relationship, and decided you weren’t quite dating yet, but still talking. you guys wanted to see if you could manage the whole “gone for months at a time” thing

and you could!

skype, texting, and random 1 am phone calls

one time you feel asleep during one of the calls, and aaron just smiled and watched you sleep (not in a creepy way guys)

when you came back from tour you’d think you had come home from war

he all but tackles you into a hug, and kisses you

“let’s make this work”

so lo and behold! you were dating!

takes you to meet his family on thanksgiving

they love you

attending the tonys together, which was basically the first time you two confirmed a relationship

he said “I love you” first

a couple years would go by, catch me if you can and such, and you make your broadway debut!!

you’re def a triple threat

aaron’s so gushy about it, constantly brags about you

rumor has it he cried watching the opening night, denies it every time

literally glued to you for the entire after party, he’s just seriously so proud and in love awwh

and then he books les miz and graceland

you’re unable to travel to London w him since you’re in your own show, and it hits both of you hard

so what does this mfer do?

it’s the morning he leaves for shooting and you’re dropping him off at the airport

“hey when i get back from filming wanna get married?”

“sure”

totally gave you a little prize machine plastic ring at the airport

you guys are literally SO NONCHALANT about it as everyone around you goes insane

“i’m engaged, i guess”

the internet blows up because they actually can’t figure out if you guys are serious or not

don’t worry, aaron actually proposed properly with a proper ring eventually

you still wear the plastic ring on a chain around your neck for a while tho

you both decide to get an apartment together

domestic couple things

Your neighbors probably hate you from the amount of times you both have “sing-offs”

slow dancing in the kitchen, laundry day, watching football games together gets aggressive

i firmly believe that you aren’t a Dallas Cowboys fan

the biggest fights you have honestly is about the NFL

in all seriousness there is still small conflict every once in a while, but you both are fantastic at communication

attending the oscars with aaron

“yeah but lOoK aT mY BeAuTiFuL FiAnCeE”

you’d be lying if watching the oscars performance didn’t turn you on a bit

but ANYWAYS

you guys get married!

it’s definitely not a huge fancy wedding, just friends and family

you know for a FACT he’d sing “marry me a little” at the reception he so would

you guys dance all night

it’s adorable, his hand literally never leaves yours

you end up with a sinus infection from all the cake frosting he smears on your face

aaron felt really bad for it, so like a good wife you hold it over him for eternity

“remember that time we missed our flight to Belize because we were in the ER-“

“OH MY GOD—“

went to Belize to honeymoon eventually anyways

aaron was very much like that one john mulaney sketch

“that’s my wife!”

“hey! have you met my wife yet?”

“i love my wife”

life goes on for you two, you remain hopping from broadway show to show

aaron ends up working on his acting career more

lots of time apart, but that just makes the time together more precious

adorable phone contact names

“wifey❤️” and “hubby❤️”

you were on set a lot for rehearsals of Grease Live

you actually helped assist in some of the choreography from time to time

impromptu golf cart rides

and you get to watch it live! like, you were AT the carnival on the set!

you’re just really proud of your mans :,)

family and friends keep pestering you both to have kids

so you adopt a dog (MILES BBY I LOVE YOU)

also as a side note, you love Braindead

you laughed HYSTERICALLY during the salami sex scene

aaron filmed it and posted it on twitter

fast forward, you get offered to help choreograph a new show! woah! and you’d get to swing for it!

it’s super top secret tho, and you literally cannot tell aaron

you do eventually relent the information that you’re working on a new show, and the man doesn’t pry. he’s respectful like that.

you meet the team, and boy you are IN LOVE

auditions are fun, creating the choreo is exhilarating

you don’t hear about casting much at all tho

so when aaron walks into the studio you both immediately freeze

“wait what the f—“

“I KNEW IT!”

yup. you both were working on Moulin Rouge! and had NO clue

you both share (1) braincell

the lab went great, and soon you were on your way to Boston!

you HATE aaron’s longer hair, mostly because he won’t let you mess with it >:(

he eventually relents, and you teach him the secrets of “the man bun™️”

you also braid it a lot

“ow!”

“stop being a pussy about it”

or

“your hair’s the money maker don’t make me shave it in your sleep”

performing with your husband is a dream

sneaking looks on stage

aaron calls your frustrated choreo-instruction voice “mom voice” and the rest of the cast picks up on it

“no, it’s 7, 8! Up on 3, down on 5, 6, spin 7,8!”

“ok, mom!”

“SHUT UP, AARON!”

then broadway!!

the ricky-aaron lives

you had to go on for nini one performance and ricky teased aaron ALL DAY

you were totally in on it too

but aaron isn’t really the jealous type. he knows you are so in love with him, the same way he is in love with you

so basically he knew it was all fun and games

shenanigans backstage

one time during intermission you convinced aaron to give you a piggyback ride the ENTIRE 15 MINUTES

“hey aaron nice backpack”

small talk between scenes

like aaron would be sprinting to his next cue and you’d just

“i’m ordering domino’s for dinner pepperoni or sausage?”

“PEPPERONI!”

you both drink too much iced coffee, like people are actually concerned for you both

neither of you are party-ers really, but you can GET DOWN

i am convinced aaron can cook

like if he’d have a day off, you’d come home from an evening performance with a cooked meal and two wine glasses

never candles tho

not after the valentine’s day incident

BUT TO SUM IT ALL UP

y’all are cute :,)

[turquoise-skyyyy]

The Solution To Everything(Is Hair Dye)

Note: Human AU! First time posting writing on tumblr lmao, and I wanted to try a bit of a different writing style... so there’s that.

Just a little writing practice paired with Marellinh fluff n kinda angst ig :)

Word count: uhhh i went overboard

Blurb: Linh is lonely, with no one in the world left by her side, hurt, by all that she’s lost, and possibly has an ever-so-slight crush on her elusive blonde neighbor. Marella needs someone to dye her hair within the day, and Linh happens to have exactly what she needs, in more ways than one.

When Linh wakes late in the night, startled from her dozing state on the couch in her dimly lit living room to the sound of persistent knocking, she certainly doesn’t expect to find the blonde neighbor she’s been inconspicuously watching— she’s still trying to convince herself that casually watching the girl enter her house anytime she got the chance wasn’t stalking— for the past three weeks since she moved in next door to be on the other side. And when the panting girl in front of her sucks in a breath, Linh definitely doesn’t expect the words that spill from her lips—

“Can you dye my hair?”

Linh blinks with bewilderment, still trying to process that the girl is here, on her doorstep. Not to mention really, really pretty. Annoyingly so, to the point where Linh’s tired brain has to avert her eyes to focus on forcing her mouth to form words.

“What?”

The girl smiles apologetically, and suddenly Linh’s throat feels dry. The girl’s beauty is much more manageable from a distance, through subtle glances out of the corner of her eye across the hall.

“My roomates— screw them— dared me to dye my hair bright green by tomorrow. I lost a bet.” She looks away. “And you have green hair dye, so...”

Linh stares dumbly, trying to puzzle out how to respond to such a random, odd request. Though she moved into the apartment complex almost a month ago and her maybe sort of possible little crush lives just next door, her mind is still trying to register the fact that they have finally crossed paths. And the girl has come to her, no less.

“How do you know I have hair dye?” The hair dye is something she’s gotten to send to Tam. The silver in his hair is something he kept in long after she cut it off and cut off their parents. He still hangs on, and Linh wants to change that, even if they haven’t spoken in a year. She isn’t going to send it though, she knows. She always chickens out. Her brother’s silence for the past year isn’t easy to face. Still, she buys brightly-colored dyes frequently on the off chance that a lightning strike of confidence will hit her. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s a comforting routine anyway.

The girl blushes, scratching the back of her neck bashfully and shifting from foot to foot. The movement draws Linh’s eyes to her shoes. They’re ratty sneakers, and upon closer inspection, it looks like there are messy, multi-colored words scribbled all over the sides. The weird shoes match the long, tacky rainbow socks that go up to her knees and the bright, tie-dye, too big sweater draped over her surprisingly small frame, with black leggings to top off the outfit underneath.

“Well, I saw you coming back in from the supermarket yesterday and there was a box of green hair dye poking out of the bags...” she trails off. “Oh my god. I sound like a stalker, don’t I? I swear I’m not.”

Linh can’t help the delirious, sleep-deprived giggle that escapes at the words. It’s ridiculous to her, that the girl she’s been following and observing as subtly as humanly possible because she’s just so pretty and Linh wants to know everything is the one worrying about being a creep.

The girl grins at her laughter, the question still burning in her eyes, which are an even brighter shade of blue than Linh realized up close.

She clicks her phone on, checking the time discreetly. It’s late, nearly midnight. The hair dye takes at least an hour, most likely more, to finish. She has an exam at nine the next day that she still hasn’t studied for and she hasn’t yet messaged Tam for her daily one-sided check-in that he never responds to, or even reads.

She looks back up at the girl with thin braids threaded through thick, golden locks, framing beautiful ice blue eyes set in a still blushing face, waiting for her at her doorstep with an open gaze and just maybe, an open mind.

Her stupid, fluttering heart makes a decision before her rational mind can catch up.

“Come on in.”

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

The girl, who introduces herself as Marella, asks her if she’s always so quiet.

Linh snorts, resisting the urge to point out that Marella is the one invading the house of a relative stranger in the middle of the night. Of course, there’s also the fact that she let her, and that isn’t even considering how flustered the blonde makes her. Especially in such close proximity, where she can smell the faint lavender wafting off her hair. Linh never would have pegged her for a lavender girl.

And when she leans closer to touch up the roots again, she realizes that Marella smells of something spicy. It’s good, comforting, like the home-cooked meals made with love that Linh only ever got to experience in other people’s houses because hers never truly felt like home, or the smell of wood when it was burned in a desperate attempt to keep the warmth in the winter because woolen hats and group hugs were never quite enough to warm everyone’s toes.

Linh has to remind herself to keep working her fingers through the hair.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh is thankful when the summer sun finally leaks away and is replaced by autumn wind. There’s something calming about the crisp air blowing through the hair that escapes from tightly-zipped thin hoodies and the leaves bleeding red and gold. She much prefers it to the heat of the summer, or the harshness of winter, the temperatures of which she can never quite escape from completely.

When she pulls open the doors to a nearby cafe and lets the smell of warmth and caffeine wash over her face, and falls into line to order, she isn’t expecting to be behind a girl with a mane of blonde hair that’s streaked through with bright green that hurt the eyes and small braids that sway when she shifts. And Linh’s weeks of watching from a distance pay off— and the hard-to-ignore green certainly helps— because she recognizes the girl immediately.

It’s Marella, sporting the new, significantly greener look that she gained by Linh’s own hands. Linh blushes at the reminder of the night weeks ago. She’s surprised to find that it was the first time she’s seen the girl since their unintentional night together. She’s been so occupied with settling in, getting organized, figuring out independence, and attempting to reach out to her absentee brother, that she hasn’t even noticed the girl’s absence. It seems her creeper skills have gotten rusty, which should make her happy but instead causes the barest amounts of disappointment to creep up. Even from afar, Marella is lively and brightens, or at least eases, the monotonous days that all seem to bleed into each other in one eternal, never-ending passage of pain.

“Hey!” Marella’s voice jolts Linh from her thoughts. “Nice to see you here!”

“H-Hi!” Linh stutters. She thinks the girl’s impossibly blue, intent gaze will always catch her off guard.

Her gaze shifts to the green in Marella’s hair, the harsh coloring softened by the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the cafe and bouncing off the bright strands.

“Your hair looks nice.”

Marella touches a hand to her neon green-streaked look and smirks. “All thanks to you.”

Linh’s cheeks warm at the praise. By the time they reach the orders taken down, Marella has somehow convinced Linh to sit and drink with her. She takes Linh’s wrist lightly and guides her to a table, an action that makes Linh’s face heat again. She looks down at the thin fingers encircling her arm to make sure she isn’t dreaming, and is elated to find that she isn’t.

And sitting in that booth, sipping their warm coffees and exchanging even warmer smiles, Linh’s romantic fantasies from afar suddenly seem a lot closer than she ever thought possible.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh isn’t sure exactly how she’s gone from watching her neighbor from a(very far) distance to being dragged into her unfamiliar apartment to be introduced to her roommates, but she can’t say she’s complaining.

As nerve-wracking as it is to be inside Marella’s house, she has to admit that the chance of pace from routine is something she would have been too scared to do herself. Had Marella not knocked on her door and practically shoved her out of her own with an evil grin on her face and into the girl’s shared one just minutes before, she might have stayed holed up in her own apartment forever, seldom leaving and only ever for basic necessities.

Patterns are nice, reliable, and most of all, consistent, something that Linh has never had before, and up until a year ago, had given up on attaining, but there’s something undeniably exciting about throwing caution to the wind and launching herself into a new situation.

However, there is the slight problem of said new situation happening to be making a good impression on her crush’s roommates, who are all staring down at her stoically in a solid line of four with their arms crossed and their gazes narrowed. It reminds Linh of the stereotypical movie tropes in which the overprotective dad interrogates the unnecessarily perfect Mary Sue’s new boyfriend when she brings him home for the first time, and she has to force herself not to laugh in the faces of the people glaring down at her. They’re all at least half a head taller than her, excluding the brunette girl, who has the most terrifying expression of them all on her face.

Three hours later, Linh is laughing tears of joy and drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon with the scary roommates in their warmly lit, cozy living room, who’s first impression couldn’t have been more wrong.

The scary-looking brunette girl isn’t actually one of Marella’s roommates, instead living with the other brunette, her brother, at home with their parents. Her name is Biana, she has an attachment to the color purple that everyone else seems to make fun of her for, and an affinity for randomly throwing out the others’ clothes and replacing them with ones she deems good enough to be seen out with.

Her brother, who’s name is Fitzroy— everyone teases him about this— is better known as Fitz. He is smart, put-together, and as Marella refers to him, their group’s resident “tired dad”. He’s dating Dex, the nerdy but sarcastic actual roommate of Marella.

Then there is Sophie, who was in the kitchen when Linh first came in, and Keefe, the former being Dex’s cousin and Marella’s second roommate who is constantly done with everyone’s shenanigans; Marella claims that Fitz, the actually responsible one, can never be bothered to do anything about their spontaneous endeavors most of the time. The latter, on the other hand, is the most mischievous of the bunch who Linh also knows the least about. His smiles and grins are the most abundant, but also the most weighted. Linh suspects there is a lot more to him than she’ll ever be able to fully grasp.

Linh’s surprised with how well she fits in with these people. They seem so much lighter and freer than her, a girl still tainted and chained down by the past and the experiences that came with it. They welcome her with open arms, and hours later, when dusk falls and it’s time for her to leave, the wrap her up in a hug and make her swear she’ll come back .She sinks into the hug, thinking that after knowing their light, she can’t possibly stay away.

Linh will forever owe all this new warmth in her life to Marella, who is perhaps the warmest of them all.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Fluffy blankets are good. Warm, cozy, comfortable, the kind of little thing in life that makes most people feel fuzzy feelings of nostalgia as they think back to the times they wrapped themselves up in warm blankets on the days they were feeling overwhelmed by the world, when they sat in messily-built blanket forts with their best friends and told scary stories during the devil’s hour with only a flashlight illuminating their evil grins, or the fights with their siblings to get the bigger portion of the blanket when they were forced to share a bed.

Unless that person is Linh, in which case all chances of that were stripped away by a pressured childhood where no room felt safe when her parents were near, friends were disapproved of, and anything that could knock the Song family from the top was discarded before either of the children could protest.

But whether it’s a childhood like Linh’s, or one where everything went perfectly, the fact can generally be agreed on: fluffy blankets are a good, good thing.

But Linh doesn’t think she was ever aware just how perfect fluffy blankets can be until they came piled in the arms of a blonde girl with tiny braids and green threaded through her waves at the door.

“Movie night?” Marella asks, wiggling a laptop in her other hand. “I noticed that you don’t have a TV yet.”

Linh lets her in, eager to spend more time with just her and especially eager to share another night with just the two of them. The idea of being in a dimly lit room wrapped in blankets with their bodies pressed together and only the light of a screen illuminating their faces doesn’t hurt either.

They curl up together on the couch without a second thought, as if they’ve been doing so all their lives. Linh adores the way Marella’s head fits in the crook of her neck like the last missing piece of a puzzle, and holds her breath as the blonde reaches across her and presses play on Netflix once they’ve settled.

When the girl falls asleep on Linh’s shoulder an hour later, she cuddles closer to the warmth of the fluffy blanket and her— crush, or love, maybe, she doesn’t know— pressing to her side.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

As nice of a distraction as Marella and her strange roommates can be in the months that pass, Linh has to come crashing back down to reality at some point. And crash she does, when the banging on her door at nine o’clock at night opens to the face she knows as well as her own.

Her brother, approaching her for the first time in years, bringing nothing but news of their father’s death.

Linh knows she should be feeling something. That she should be falling to her knees and sobbing dramatically, like a protagonist in a drama novel, or maybe grabbing his hands and begging him to tell her that it isn’t true. Instead, when Tam bears the news, all she can do is match his emotionless expression. After all, what is there to feel?

And why is she in such desperate need of comfort when, truth be told, she feels no suffering?

She can’t explain her mind’s twisted way of thinking, but she does know that it’s what leads her next door, and what pushes her to throw her arms around Marella’s neck when she comes to the door decked in pajamas and those long, irritating rainbow-striped socks that she loves so much.

Linh likes to believe that it’s her petty grudge against the annoying socks that makes her cry on Marella’s shoulder that night, but hiding from the truth isn’t as easy as she likes to believe.

And when Marella wraps her in a fuzzy blanket that rains tufts of fine fluff on their heads and pulls her in close, Linh has a hard time believing fluffy blankets aren’t the answer to all the world’s problems.

Confidence has finally come to her, and she’s able to give Tam a box of hair dye before he leaves. She doesn’t know if he’ll use it, or when she’ll see him again, but the smallest spark of light in his eyes when he takes the dye and turns it over in his hand is enough hope for her.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

When Marella appears at her door in the middle of the night this time, weeks since Linh’s father died and they last saw each other, Linh is surprised that she isn’t surprised. After all, surely there’s something seriously wrong if the only thing she says when someone comes knocking at her door at exactly three minutes past midnight is, “Did you bring the hair dye?”

She pulls the blonde inside softly, takes the fuzzy blanket still draped on her couch from their movie night, and wraps it around the girl’s shivering frame. Marella starts to sob on her shoulder. Her fingers wrap around Linh’s neck and latch onto her, bringing them both down to the carpet when her knees give. Linh immediately wraps an arm around her and holds her close.

Linh doesn’t know what’s wrong, but she does know that Marella is leaning on her for support, and she does know that she will always be here, for as long as the blonde might need.

When she finally stops crying and lets Linh reach gentle fingers to wipe her cheeks, and pulls out electric blue hair dye that brings a smile to both of their faces, Linh has a hard time believing that hair dye isn’t the cure for everyone’s sorrows.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh finds it funny that one can promise themselves one thing-- that they are going to try as hard as they can not to connect with others as a means of protecting themselves, for example-- but still end up breaking the promise if the right temptation crosses their path.

And her temptation? A certain blue-eyed blonde with now bright blue highlights who’s devious smirks and snarky words can snap Linh’s resolve in a second. She knows she should hate her for it, but surrounded by mischievous roommates with twinkling eyes and light smiles filled to the brim with warmth, she can’t help but snuggle closer to her weakness.

Her weakness, who is currently failing to dominate the board in a (not-so)friendly game of Christmas Monopoly. Marella informed her that it’s a holiday classic when she dragged her inside the house just an hour before, but judging by the rabid way the players are screaming at each other, Linh can’t say she agrees.

“What do you mean, the empire kind is the wrong kind?” Keefe screeches. “Duh, it’s easier!”

“For you, maybe! But it’s not the original!” Dex retorts.

Keefe jabs a finger at the board. “Then why are you still playing and why are you in second place?” He throws his hands up. “If you’re so mad about it, then stop playing and let the rest of us noncomplainers win.”

“Noncomplainers isn’t a word, Keefe,” Fitz says, idly shuffling the assortment of multi-colored money laid out in front of him. As banker, he’s the calmest and least angry of the bunch, though there’s something oddly menacing about the way he rearranges his money with careful, poised fingers.

Keefe, Dex, and Fitz are circled around the board, all nursing mugs of hot cocoa(which Linh has realized is a sort of trademark for them) in between bouts of shrieking, while Sophie left a little while ago to buy original Monopoly just in case Keefe and Dex destroy the board. Linh laughed when the exasperated blonde said it, but now she can see why it’s a legitimate concern.

Linh curls her cold feet in from her position on the long couch, and Marella automatically shifts the fluffy blanket they’re sharing to fully cover her toes again. Linh smiles up at her gratefully, and Marella offers a small smirk back. Then she goes right back to screaming. Linh debates calling Sophie and asking her to bring back ear plugs too.

“Whatever,” Biana scoffs. “You’re all sore losers.”

She is currently winning, as she has been for the entire game, and she glares down at the boys huddling around the game board from her perch in one of the armchairs.

And on it goes. At the end of the night, when Monopoly money is scattered on the floor and a smoking dinner that’s just a bit too salty is shared and hastily wrapped presents tied with glittery bows are exchanged(Marella is too impatient to wait for Christmas morning), Linh finds herself full of more love and joy than she thinks she ever has been in her entire life. There’s something oddly comforting about being with people who care for and accept her, even if it’s by default or association. Having someone who cares is a rare light in her life that most people take for granted.

Especially when there’s the smallest chance that the person who truly holds her heart returns her feelings.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

It’s the night before Christmas and Linh can’t sleep.

It’s the tossing and turning type of ‘can’t sleep’, the kind where Linh lies awake long after dark waiting for her mind and conscience to stop running around in circles around her head, the kind where her insecurities grow claws and fangs and sink them in skin-deep, where there is no light slipping through the cracks to keep them at bay.

And Linh hates that kind of ‘can’t sleep’.

It makes her antsy, on edge, and the urge to pace itches at her feet. The unfamiliar surface of the floor of Marella’s bedroom only makes matters worse, and as softly as she tries to twist under the thin covers, it doesn’t take long for the rustling on the floor to alert the blonde girl dozing off above her.

Marella slides to the floor sleepily before Linh can whisper a protest and lands next to her on the mattress with a grunt. Linh rolls over to face her, and is startled by how close their faces are. She can count the light freckles on Marella’s nose and cheeks when she’s this close. Moonlight is streaming into the room through the cracks in the shutters of the window, painting streaks of glowing white on the blonde’s face. She always looks beautiful, but Linh finds there’s something especially intimate about her in this moment. The air is suddenly buzzing with palpable tension, making her palms go slick with sweat and her mind hyper-aware of every movement. She can’t take her eyes off Marella.

Then, girl of Linh’s dreams breaks the stillness, leaning forward and pressing soft, sleepy lips to her own.

She’s asleep by the time she draws away, but Linh is shaking with adrenaline. It’s the moment she’s waited for so long she can hardly think of a time where she didn’t want the blonde.

And yet.

Linh’s the kind of girl with baggage, with the kind of ‘skeletons in the closet’ that people run away screaming from, not because it’s scary, but because it’s messy. Complicated. It bogs everyone who knows down, making every action in her presence laborious and painful with the knowledge of her past. Even her brother, who once promised to be by her side forever, wouldn’t stay.

She knows it’s irrational, but suddenly she can’t imagine how to face Marella.

She slips out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning so Marella’s blue gaze can’t stop her from running away. But despite her misgivings, the insecurities that still haven’t retracted their claws, and the voice in the back of her head whispering that she has to have imagined it, Linh can’t stop touching a finger to her lips, long after she’s left the buzzing moonlit atmosphere that allows slips of self control under the cover of night.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

It’s been weeks. Three weeks and five days, to be exact, and Linh still can’t figure out how to face her.

With every day that passes, she can feel the strong bonds they formed weakening. That’s one thing about relationships. They need an equal amount of effort. If Linh doesn’t put in enough, the object of her affection slips between her fingers before she can blink. That’s how she lost her brother, her friends, and any last semblance she might have had of “family”.

That is, until Marella.

She was persistent, even in the beginning, fighting to spend more and more time with a mildly resistant Linh, until she found it impossible to stay away. Her light is unlike any Linh has ever known, wild and fluid like an eternal flame that can’t be doused. That flame kept Linh alive for all these months, and yet here she is, ignoring it. Maybe even putting it through pain.

It takes a month, but it finally comes to her.

She realizes now that love isn’t something that affects only her, and that she isn’t the only one to win or lose in it. She isn’t the only person in love.

Love is two people, three people, ten people, a hundred people. Love is everyone who forces themselves into her life with the intent of staying no matter how dark it gets. Love is the flickers of light in the night and the bold streaks of sun in the morning. Love is the twinkling stars splattered across a purple painted sky.

Love is illumination. Love is clarity.  Love is a path paved special, with different twists and turns for everyone.

Love is...

Marella.

Love is Marella.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Weeks of radio silence after months of talking nonstop is hard to bounce back from, and they both know this well.

But Linh comes back anyway.  She comes knocking on Marella’s door exactly a month after they last talked, this time she being the one to approach at random in the middle of the night. When the door opens and she smiles apologetically, pressing a butterfly kiss to Marella’s forehead and pushing a big blanket and a bright, eye-melting color of hair dye into her arms in a silent apology, all Marella does is smile and pull her back in for a real, proper kiss.

Yeah, neon green and fluffy blankets are the solution to everything.

[hanjizung]

Stress reliever.

Kim Seungmin x Y/N Word count: 1.7k :]

♡ Warnings♡ : roommate au, explicit smut, degradation, masturbation (f), fingering, cursing, strong language, uhhh let me know if I missed anything.

A/n: ajnsjdkaa I'm a slut for Seungmin's fingers/hands, I just had to write something about it. Hope you enjoy it! ♡

Sighing, you closed your laptop in frustration and pushed it as far away as you could.

You were working on an essay for an assignment due in a few days, and while you were just starting, it was stressing you out horribly. You had to work on a lot of things at the same time and it was tiring.

Luckily for you, you knew of a way to relieve stress that always worked for you.

Standing up to close your door, you looked outside trying to find your roommate. He's not here yet. That gave you the liberty to be as loud as you wanted.

You made your way back to the bed, pulling your skirt up and opening your legs, allowing your hand to ghost above your panties, patting your sex gently.

Exhaling, you pushed your panties to the side and your fingers finally made contact with your pussy. The sensation of your familiar fingers giving you a bit of relief, making you close your eyes.

And then the magic began. With your other hand you pushed your top down to free your boobs, pinching your nipples, a moan escaping from your mouth, your other hand caressing your nub just the way you liked it, rubbing it at the pace you loved so much.

You kept going at it, using your other hand to give you more pleasure and moaning, but your door opened suddenly and Seungmin entered your room, catching you right in the middle of your act.

"Seungmin, what the fuck? Weren't you taught how to knock?" you screamed, closing your legs and using a pillow to cover your almost naked form.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just needed to tell you something very important" he shouted back, staring at you with his eyes wide open.

"Why didn't you wait for me to go and eat dinner or something? God, this is so embarrassing…" you buried your face with the pillow that was also covering your upper body.

"I thought you were just doing homework, but apparently you were busy doing something else" he said. He turned to leave your room, but with his hand on the handle he looked at you.

"Do you need any help to finish what you were doing?" he asked, taking you by surprise. He seemed completely unbothered by the current situation you were in.

"I can do it on my own, but thanks for the offer" you answered, moving your hand meaning that he was allowed to leave.

"Are you sure? I think I can do better than you were" he spoke again, closing the door behind him and stepping slowly in your direction.

"Alright, you know what? Give me everything you've got. I need to relieve a lot of stress, so make yourself useful and help me" you pushed the pillow away from you, wiggling as you took your panties off with a cocky smile painting your lips. He approached you and finally sat in front of you in the bed, his eyes staring up and down your body.

He placed a hand on your knee and with the other he spread your legs, leaving you in the same position you were before he interrupted you.

You analyzed his face carefully, and couldn't help but blush when his eyes shone at the sight of your wet pussy in front of him.

"At least you were doing a good job" he commented, passing his fingers through your wetness and showing you how they were completely coated in your essence, licking them clean under your burning glare on him.

His dominant hand teased you at your entrance, then went up and gave all his attention to your sensitive clit.

Not being able to help it, you moaned loudly and threw your head further into the pillow supporting your head,your hips bucked up trying to find more of the delicious sensation that he was giving you.

Seungmin groaned, the tent in his pants growing as the sight in front of him was better than the one he had dreamed about for a long time.

His other hand left the spot on your knee as it came down to play with you, spreading your folds for him to see you clearer, his thumb massaging the pearl causing you all the pleasure you were feeling, until he couldn't help it anymore and he inserted one of his slender fingers inside you, the sudden intrusion making you yelp and close your eyes tighter.

"A-ah, Seungmin…" you whimpered when the lonely finger inside you gained a companion and he started moving his fingers inside you, trying to find the spot that drove you crazy.

"You like this, slut? You like how my fingers are making you feel?" he grunted, curling his fingers and continuing torturing your knob.

You never expected him to be this good, regretting the way you desafiated him earlier, he took your words as a challenge and he was determined to win.

"Y-yes… I love it, Seungmin" you managed to say, then screamed his name when he hit a particular spot, shouting at him to do it again.

He complied to your orders, hitting the same spot with his long fingers thrusting rapidly and making you shake with all the stimulation you were receiving. The sensation of your orgasm approaching made you grab Seungmin's wrist tightly as he kept the same pace, and finally a wave of pleasure consumed you, leaving you feeling completely numb.

Seungmin kept fingering you through your orgasm, stopping when your warm walls quitted clenching around his fingers. He looked up at you, licking his fingers one more time while you locked eyes with him.

"Are you okay?" he asked you, your chest going up and down as you tried your best to regulate your breathing and think coherently before speaking.

When you finally regained your breath a little, you rolled over the bed and pulled a drawer on your night stand open.

You took something and threw it at Seungmin, the mysterious object landing in front of him as you lied in front of him, passing one of your own fingers through your slit and licking it sensually, never breaking eye contact with him.

"I need you to fuck me, Seungmin" you moaned softly.

He instantly freed his throbbing cock from his pants, taking the condom package you had thrown at him and putting it in place.

While he was getting ready to do as you told him, your fingers were playing with your dripping pussy lazily, almost as if you were preparing yourself for him.

"You're such a dirty slut, playing without me and then asking me to fuck you. Were my fingers not enough for you, slut? You want to feel my big cock inside you, hmm? Is that it?" he said, his hands keeping your legs wide open for him as he lined in front of your hole.

You whimpered at his words, trying to move your hips to finally have him inside you, anticipating his next moves.

Seungmin let go one of your legs to move his cock and tease you, you closed your eyes and complained for him to put it in,your free legs wrapping around his waist to try and pull him close to you.

"Ahh, Seungmin, I need you" you cried. He smiled evilly and teased you again, slapping your pussy with his cock.

"If you want my cock you better beg for it, slut" he ordered.

"Please, I need you inside me… I-I wanna feel you filling me up, please… Seungmin, fuck me, please" you were sure real tears were starting to escape your eyes, the more he played with your entrance making you lose your mind to the lust of the moment and give in to his wishes.

Satisfied with the way you were crying out for him, he pushed his member inside you at a slow pace, grunting when your warm walls clenched around him. You left out a satisfied sigh when you felt him deliciously stretching you.

"Is this what you wanted, slut?" he asked, his hands taking the back of your legs to keep you in place, his hold on you making you unable to move your hips looking for friction.

"Y-yes, ahh… Seungmin you feel so good" you moaned, your hands playing with your boobs when you saw him staring at you from his position above you.

Not wanting to stay still for longer, his hips started to move, thrusting you at an almost painfully slow rhythm.

"You feel so tight, Y/N, I thought my fingers had stretched you enough…" Seungmin whispered, watching his member disappear inside you.

"Such a needy slut you are, taking me so well" his words had you squirming under him, tears of pleasure as he started increasing the velocity of his thrust against you. He was making you feel good, better than you had ever felt before with anybody.

Wet noises filled the room, skin against skin and your moans were audible too, your voice going tones higher and your eyes closing tighter as each thrust from Seungmin made you approach your end.

Your walls tightened against Seungmin's cock, your legs shaking as you tried to squeeze your thighs together to keep the sensation the same.

Seungmin moaned and twitched inside you, he was close to exploding just like you.

"Let's cum together" he said, reaching for your hand while his dominant one rubbed circles to your clit to help you cum.

Everything felt like it was too much, and you finally came around him while shouting his name. Your vision went black after you opened your eyes, smiling when you saw your sweating roommate between your legs.

He pulled out of you, a satisfied smile on his lips as he tied the condom and stood up to throw it into your trash bin.

He covered his cock, guarding it inside his boxers and zipping his jeans before lying on the bed next to you, exhaling.

"Do you still feel stressed?" he asked you, turning his face to your direction.

"I feel fan-fucking-tastic, thank you for helping me out, Minnie" you answered with a laugh.

"No problem, Y/N" he stood up again, walking to the door "and hey, if you ever need to release stress again, don't hesitate to call me" Seungmin said, closing the door as he finished talking, leaving you alone.

There was no doubt, you wouldn't think twice to ask him for help again.

[chipsfics]

Part 4 - Supermoon

Part 4 is here! 

Rated: PG (for swearing)

~~~~

Midnight. It was that time when fall was just ending and spring was brand new- Although the weather was warm during the day, nighttime was still a bit chilly- That sort of pleasant, crisp bite in the air that only comes at night. The world is cold and asleep, but Tissues was wide awake- quietly grabbing his phone, turning on the flashlight and creeping across his bedroom, past his quietly sleeping roommate, and out the door. He let out a sigh once he made it to the hallway, and crept to the elevator- Everything seemed a lot louder at night, but if the ruckus coming from the elevator woke anyone up, nobody came to confront him. He made it downstairs, past OJ's master bedroom, and into the front room- Where he was surprised to see Cheesy still wide awake and watching TV on the lowest volume. 

"O-oh." Tissues said, a bit shocked. "Hi Cheesy," Cheesy turned around and looked Tissues up and down judgmentally. 

"Hey Tissue-guy. What're you doing up so late?" Cheesy responded.

"Ohh uhhh... I'm just gonna uhh... Well I uhh. Midnight snack," Tissues sputtered. "I mean I'm hungry. I'm gonna get uhh.. Yeah." 

"Ok, cool. What did you have in mind? I'm kind of hungry too." Cheesy responded.

"I'm gonna. Order pizza," Tissues responded shyly.

"Order pizza? At midnight?" Cheesy said, cocking his head to one side in confusion. 

"Yeah uhh.. There's this place a couple miles away that does 24/7 delivery." Tissues said.

"Hm. Yeah, I figured, but..." Cheesy responded. "Aren't you supposed to tell OJ first if you're ordering any food to the hotel?"

"Um. Yes." Tissues said.

"I won't tell him if you give me a slice," Cheesy said, then paused, grinning. "At yeast a slice." He slapped his knee.

Tissues stared at him and blinked. "Wh.... OHH I get it. Cause like. Yeast is in pizza dough, and it sounds like least....." Tissues laughed. "That was a good one, did you think of it on the spot?"

"Wait, you really think so? And yes I did." Cheesy said proudly, smiling. "Also, what kind are you getting?"

"Olives and cheese," Tissues said. 

"Yuck. I hate olives," Cheesy said. "Can you get cheese and garlic bread too?"

"I dunno..." Tissues said. "I'm kind of broke."

"Well then, I guess OJ will be hearing about this in the morning," Cheesy said casually, turning back around to face the TV.

"Ughhhhh, fiiine." Tissues said. "You broke me. Lemme call up the pizza place right now."

Tissues dialed in the number and ordered from the exhausted-sounding operator. One large pizza with olives, and cheesy garlic bread. He hung up after putting his order in, put his phone back into his head where the tissues are dispensed, and exchanged it for his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out a 20 dollar bill. 

"Hh. Cheesy, do you mind doing me a favor? If you hear the doorbell ring, answer it and pay with this-" Tissues walked up to Cheesy and handed him the money. 

"Sure thing, dude. It's whatever," Cheesy responded. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go wake up Yinyang," Tissues said. "It's a supermoon tonight, and I wanna watch it with him."

"It's a what?" Cheesy said, perking up. 

"A supermoon," Tissues stopped in his tracks, continuing. "It's like, I heard about it from the internet, it's like... Where the moon is super huge in the sky. It's like uhh.. Something to do with rotations or something."

"Cool. I'm not very interested in moon stuff, so i'll just stay here. Have fun though, and good luck waking up Yinyang without getting murdered." Cheesy said, waving him away. 

Tissues hurried to the elevator and rode all the way up, quickly but quietly walking down the hallway on his tiptoes. He slowly reached for the door of Yinyang's room, and tested the handle- Unlocked. He walked in slowly, trying not to wake up the Cherries- And paused when he saw something new hanging up on Yinyang's wall. It was too dark to see very clearly in anything but black-and-white, but it looked like some kind of poster, no, a collage, filled with cluttered imagery of organic shapes. He stared at it for a couple seconds in awe of its intricacy and beauty- Before he shook his head and gently reached over to nudge Yinyang on his arm to wake him up.

"Yinyang," Tissues whispered. "Wake up!" 

Yinyang wrinkled his face and moaned, his eyes fluttering open sleepily but still half-lidded. As he came to, he realized who was standing in front of him and smiling- A very excited looking Tissues. 

"Huhhh..." Yinyang said, groaning as he sat up. "Wh... What is it?" He said, looking over at the clock. Around 12:40.

"Come with me, I have something to show you." Tissues said.

"What is it... That could possibly be so important that you have to wake us up at midnight?!" Yang whispered harshly. 

"It's the supermoon tonight," Tissues said. "I ordered pizza."

"The super-wha..?" Yin asked. 

"Its like... I heard about it from the internet, it's where the moon is like, super huge in the sky. It's uh. It's got something to do with rotations," Tissues continued. 

"Wait, lemme get this straight... You woke us up to see a stupid fucking moon?!" Yang said angrily. "Be nice, and don't curse!" Yin said.

"If you don't wanna come, I guess I'll just eat all of the pizza by myself." Tissues said sadly. 

"Well...." Yang paused, and sighed. "I guess i'll humor you. But don't think this means i'm not still angry!" He puffed. 

"Ok ok let's go you guyse! Or we'll miss it," Tissues said excitedly, helping the still-sleepy Yinyang out of bed and downstairs, all the while jumping around excitedly with an unusual spring in his step. Cheesy was still sitting in front of the TV, munching on garlic bread, and turned around to see the two trot out of the elevator holding hands.

"Hey lovebirds." Cheesy said. "Congrats on waking up Yinyang without dying," He continued.

"Shut up or I'll-" Yang brought up his fist. "Y'know what. I'm too tired. Where's the pizza," He promptly lowered it. Cheesy laughed, and Yang growled at him.

"On the counter. You two enjoy!" Cheesy said, chuckling and turning back towards the TV, that was still droning public access midnight TV as he snacked on the garlic bread.

Sure enough, the pizza was on the counter, and Tissues picked it up and balanced it on his head, using his two arms to balance it. from the top, he would have just looked like a walking pizza box.

"Heh heh, Let's go, guyse, I know a spot where we can see the moon really good!" Tissues said. "Wait, do you two wanna get some drinks first?"

"Oh, Sure." Yinyang was still talking in a somewhat hushed voice, but Tissues' overall lack of volume control was starting to show itself a little more as he got more excited. 

"My hands are kind of full. Can you just grab me an orange juice?" Tissues said. Yinyang nodded. He walked over to the snack fridge and reached for a bottle of soda, before Yin tried to pull away their hand. 

"If you're going to make us eat unhealthy junk food, at least let me drink water." Yin hissed.

"Ughh.. Water is gross." Yang said.

"Water is pure," Yin contested.

"Will you shut up about purity for one second?" Yang snapped back. Yin clenched his teeth, hard.

"This is the ONE compromise, ok? Water." Yin said, unusually harsh.

"Fine." Yang said, and grabbed an orange juice and a chilled water bottle. 

The two walked over to Tissues, who was still standing holding the pizza box- His arms looking a little tired. "Ok, let's go!" He said, and led them to the elevator. "Wait- I gotta ask- Are you afraid of heights?"

"Yin is." Yang said, "No i'm not!.... Maybe a little bit." He said, blushing. 

"Oh cool. So you wouldn't mind taking this to the little platform on the roof?" Tissues said. "The view up there is the best," 

"Oh. Sure," Yinyang said, Yin taking a hard swallow. Tissues pressed the elevator button, and led them up to the highest level. It was the attic area- Mostly full of cleaning supplies and scattered old construction equipment- half-empty paint buckets, old furniture, and even stuff from old challenges in season 1. The whole place looked unfinished- like construction hadn't gotten around to cleaning up sawdust or covering up insulation. The moon shining through the unstained glass windows was surprisingly bright and pure white. 

Tissues led Yinyang by the hand across the way, Yinyang freeing up his one hand by putting the water bottle under his arm that was holding the orange juice- Tissues still balancing the pizza on his head with one hand. While they walked, Yinyang looked around in amazement at the attic, a place he didn't even think existed inside the hotel.

Tissues had obviously been in here before, because he seemed uninterested in all of the dusty knicknacks and made a beeline for a dusty old door that Yinyang assumed led to the roof. 

He opened the door, carefully ascended the stairs one step at a time (There was a reason he didn't often use the elevator,) and made it out onto a small platform on the roof with a vent. It was just barely enough room for both of them to sit down, and Yinyang assumed that it was installed for construction or maintenance- the ground was hard, slightly sandy concrete. Tissues held up one finger to signal Yinyang to “Wait there”- He placed the pizza box down and lifted up the vent, rummaging around until he pulled out a slightly dusty picnic blanket. He placed it down gingerly. 

“Your throne, my liege.” Tissues said in a mock British accent. Yinyang wrinkled his nose at the old-looking picnic blanket, laughed, shrugged, and sat down.

"H...How did you know about this place?" Yinyang said, fidgeting into a comfortable position. The moon was even brighter once they got out of the hotel's attic. The light gave everything a sharp clarity, and bathed the two in a sparkling white light.

"Oh y'know..." Tissues shrugged, sitting down next to Yinyang. "I just come up here when I want to be alone. Or when I feel like nobody wants me around," He continued. "I guess I just found it cause i had to find somewhere to go." He grabbed his bottle of orange juice and cracked it open, taking a swig.

"Wow." Yinyang said. "That's kind of deep,"

"Not really." Tissues laughed. "Its just the way things are." He said, opening up the pizza box and offering it to Yinyang. "Want some?"

It was silly, but Yinyang started to blush. "Sure," He said, and took a slice and popped it into his mouth in one bite. Tissues looked a little shocked, and got a slice of his own to munch on, putting the pizza box to the side.

"Check it," Tissues said, pointing to the sky. "There it is. The supermoon," Tissues stared at it, eyes twinkling. 

Yinyang hadn't really taken a moment to look at the moon itself yet- It was giant and perfectly round, illuminating the deep blue of the night sky and threatening to outshine the stars. Something about the moon that night was gently urging Yinyang closer to it- The feeling of being pulled was almost dizzying. Yinyang subconsciously scooted closer to Tissues, and he leaned into the gesture affectionately.. A quiet moment passed.

Tissues plucked an olive slice off of his pizza and held it up to the moon. 

"Look," Tissues said. "If i hold it up like this, the moon looks like cheese in the middle."

Yinyang laughed, his voice ringing loud like a soft, far away bell. It was as clear as the moonlight. Tissues sniffed.

"Of course, everyone already knows the moon is made of cheese," Tissues continued, and Yinyang tried to stifle another laugh.

"You know, you kind of remind me of the moon, Yinyang." Tissues said.

"Oh?" Yinyang said, his face flushed a bright red. "How so?"

"Hmm. Lets see. You're both round, and bright, and very beautiful!" Tissues complimented, "If you don't mind me saying." 

"You really... You think so?" Yinyang fidgeted with his fingers to combat the butterflies in his stomach banging themselves against his ribcage. 

"Of course." Tissues said. "You're my friend. There's a reason I woke you two up so late, i wanted to share this with you." Tissues blushed, "The pizza was to make you less mad at me."

Yinyang giggled. "What...!" Yin said affectionately. "I guess. Well... I guess it was worth coming up here. I still think it's a stupid reason to wake up in the middle of the night, but.." Yang trailed off. "You better be glad you got our favorite pizza topping." 

Tissues smiled ear to ear, the most genuine smile that Yinyang had ever seen. He scooted in and wrapped his arms around Yinyang in a soft hug, squeezing his sides. Yinyang, taken by surprise and unsure of what to do with his hands, awkwardly followed suit a few awkward seconds after. Tissues was very warm (feverish, or flustered?) and rubbed his back gently. Yinyang couldn't help but squish the smaller object into his chest and nuzzle his face into the embrace. They held each other like that for a long time. It was nice. 

Tissues figured that Yinyang was just as touch starved as he was, because he was honestly waiting for Yinyang to let go.

~~~~

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Eleven

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Maas!

Feysand and Elriel

Author’s Note: I promise, Rhys and Feyre will talk soon... It’s all about the build-up ;) Alsoooo part of this was Gilmore Girls inspired:)

Enjoyyyy and let me know if you want to be tagged!

MASTERLIST LINK

ELEVEN

~~~Elain~~~

I had dinner with Azriel nearly every night that week. We didn’t go much further than kissing, and at most we spent an hour together every night. Both of us had so much schoolwork to do and he had training on top of it, so our time together was limited even though we made an effort to see each other daily. On Saturday, I was curled up in a blanket on my couch studying for a huge test I had next week. Despite it being four in the afternoon, I hadn’t yet put a bra on or gotten dressed. Or brushed my hair. 

I lived for Saturdays like this. 

Feyre was supposed to come over for dinner later and it would be the first time I’d seen her since she’d left my house with Rhys over a week ago. I had big plans to pump her for information and figure out exactly what happened between them. Azriel didn’t have an explanation, either. No one did. It seemed like Feyre and Rhys were determined to keep the incident hidden from all of their friends. Az had told me he was pretty sure Mor knew, but wasn’t saying anything out of respect for Feyre.

Not tonight, though. I had two bottles of wine ready in order to grill Feyre for answers. 

I stood, my cocoon of blankets falling to the floor around me. I should probably make sure I have supplies to actually make dinner for Feyre and me tonight.

I traipsed into the kitchen directly adjacent to my living room. My apartment was a dream, if I was being honest. I didn’t have a roommate so I had the whole place to myself. The front door opened into a cozy living room furnished with a plush couch and a couple of chairs. It was a fairly open concept plan, so the kitchen and living room were separated by a countertop complete with a few barstools. To the left of the living room was my bedroom and bathroom. Small, but cozy. 

I opened the cabinets to stare at my food. It looked like I had rice and beans, so tacos might be a good option for dinner. As I removed the can of beans, a strange rustling issued from the very cabinet I was gazing into. I set the can on the counter and stretched up onto my toes to see what it was--

And came face to face with a rat. 

“Arghhhh!”

I stumbled back so fast I landed on my ass in front of the refrigerator. The rat jumped out of the cabinet and onto the floor directly in front of me before it skittered under the dishwasher, disappearing from sight. I didn’t think I’d ever moved faster than I did just then, scrambling out of the kitchen and back onto the couch. 

I grabbed my phone and dialed Azriel. 

“Hello?”

I gulped down some air before I could speak. “I have a rat problem.”

“A rat problem?” I could already tell he was laughing at me. 

“Yes. What the hell do I do.” 

He sighed. “I’ll be right over. Text me your address.” 

He hung up. I had not intended for him to pack up and come to my place, but if I was being truthful, there was no way I was handling the rat myself. Disgusting creatures. 

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I tiptoed over to it and flung it open. 

“Hey, Elain,” Azriel said slowly. 

I had managed to sneak around my apartment, shutting my bedroom and bathroom doors in an effort to keep the rat out. I’d also put a bra on and some mascara, so at least I looked presentable.

“Good to see you’re still alive, considering the deadly rat currently inhabiting your apartment,” he said sarcastically. Sarcastically?

“You think I’m making this up?” I grabbed his jacket and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind him. He stopped just past the threshold as I continued into the living room and resumed my place standing atop the couch. He chuckled as I stood there, turning to face him with my hands on my hips.

“I opened up my kitchen cabinet and the biggest rat I have ever laid eyes on jumped out. I mean, it actually attacked me. That thing has an agenda against me or something. It skittered across my kitchen floor and under the dishwasher. That’s the last I saw of it.”

Azriel looked dubious. “So… There’s actually a rat in here?”

Why couldn’t this guy get it through his head? He’d come over, hadn’t he? “Yes there’s a rat in here! And I need you to get rid of it because I’m certainly not going to! Please?” 

He let out a breath and walked past me to the kitchen. “Okay, okay, I’m looking. Do you have any mousetraps or anything?”

I gasped. “You’re not going to kill it, are you? Can’t you just catch it and set it free?”

“What do you want me to catch it with, Elain? And I thought you told me it was evil.” 

“Just because it’s evil doesn’t mean it deserves death. I have an empty shoebox and a bucket. Would either of those work?”

“Where are they?”

I clapped my hands, delighted that Azriel wasn’t going to kill the rat, disgusting as it was. “Under the sink! You’re a godsend, Azriel.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, bending down to look under the sink. But I could tell he was pleased.

I jumped from the couch to the chair nearest the bar, then climbed up onto the countertop separating the kitchen from the living room to watch his progress. “You’re doing great,” I said as he pulled the shoebox out from beneath the sink.

“Thanks for the moral support,” he said.

“Anytime.” 

I watched him peer under the dishwasher for a bit, shoebox at the ready. I jumped when he banged on the outside of the dishwasher. Then jumped again as the rat skittered out from beneath the dishwasher, aiming for the fridge. Azriel pounced, enclosing the rat within the box in one fell swoop. 

He stood, brandishing the box in my direction. I nearly fell backward off the bar. “Get that thing away from me!” 

He laughed. “It’s just a harmless little rat.” 

“I can hear it ricocheting off the sides of that shoebox. It’s trying to escape. Get it out of here!” 

Still laughing, he left the apartment and returned a few minutes later, sans rat and shoebox. Good. I wasn’t going to find a use for the box anyway after a rat had been inside it. 

“You can come down off the counter now,” he said, walking toward me.

“There could be more.”

He walked right up to the edge of the bar to where I now sat, my legs hanging over the edge. His arms wrapped around my waist as he came to a stop between my thighs. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, resting my forearms over his shoulders. “Thanks for saving me from the rat.” 

“Anytime,” he said, and kissed me. I pulled him closer, my legs wrapping around his waist. His hands moved from my waist, to my breasts, to my hair. I had just as much difficulty keeping my own hands in one place as I stroked the hard muscles of his abs, his chest, his arms. He deftly lifted me off the counter and carried me over to the couch, laying me down gently. 

“Is this okay?” he asked. 

I merely pulled him down atop me and drew our lips together. I was just starting to consider… other things, when a knock came from the door. 

Azriel froze. 

“I bet it’s the rat, back for revenge,” he joked, but I could tell he just wanted to continue kissing me. 

“Shit,” I said, letting my head fall back against the couch as Azriel shifted into a seated position. “That’s Feyre. She’s here for dinner. She doesn’t know about us yet… Unless you told somebody about us. Which would be fine,” I added, even though we’d had a silent agreement to keep this on the down-low through all of our online communication and week of hanging out. 

“Well, unless you want me to climb out the window, I think she’s about to find out.”

“I would never make you climb out the window,” I said as I stood and aimed for the door. Before I opened it, I turned back to him. “What did you mean, earlier, when you asked if there was actually a rat here?”

His eyes widened ever so slightly. “Uhhh… Nothing. I thought there was a rat here the whole time.” His gaze cut to the floor.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” He still wouldn’t look at me. 

I was about to continue my interrogation when another knock, this one a little more insistent, sounded at the door. I let Azriel off the hook and opened the door. 

“Hey, Feyre. Long story, but before you come in, I have to tell you. I’m not here alone,” I said in a rush. Feyre’s brows creased. 

“You forgot I was coming? Who’s here?” 

I opened the door a little wider and Feyre took a step inside.

“Hey, Feyre,” Azriel said weakly. 

~~~Feyre~~~

It had been the longest week of my life. I remembered how much I hated living with Ianthe as the week progressed. We had kept our distance from each other the entire month of November. I’d avoided the common areas of the house like the plague, being sure to stay inside my room on my floor of the townhouse at all times while home. 

But now that it had been over a month since she’d, you know, betrayed me by making out with my boyfriend in front of the entire swim team, she’d decided amends could now be made. 

I wanted no part of it. 

She lingered in the living room every night after practice, attempting to cajole me into conversation about swim, or school, or my family. I would usually flip a trite remark at her and move on as quickly as possible, but I was reaching the end of my tether. 

And dealing with Ianthe’s tasteless attempts to ‘be friends’ again was just the cherry on top of the horrible week I’d had. 

I hadn’t spoken to Rhys since the night when he’d cornered me in the bathroom of the club.  The night he’d cheated on me with his ex, whom I had thought he hated! He had kept his distance, too, and I couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. He hadn’t placed any effort in trying to talk to me, or reconcile, and that only served to make me believe he really was guilty, he really did cheat because he was weak, and had moved on without me. I’d said as much to Mor on Wednesday but she had vehemently argued against that opinion.

“Just talk to him!” she’d exclaimed over dinner that night. “And neither of you will hang with me, Cass, Az and Amren! Things aren’t the same without you guys. And you’re obviously miserable without each other. Won’t you just talk to him? There’s got to be an explanation.” 

But I hadn’t, and my week without Rhys and my newfound friends had accomplished at least one good thing. I had thrown myself into my training, needing an outlet for all the emotions warring within me. Should I talk to Rhys? Did I just have horrible taste when it came to men? All those thoughts, whirling around my head, only disappeared when I trained so hard at every practice that I could barely stay awake to study before bed every night. 

Coach King had even noticed my newfound motivation. He’d pulled me aside after practice on Friday night and congratulated me for my hard work. He’d even hinted that I might make the travel team next weekend… 

Somehow the motivation to work hard, accomplish things in my sport, had returned to me. And now that that was finally going well, I’d started considering changing my major to English or Art or something. Maybe I just needed to take a long break from boys. It made it a lot easier to focus on myself.

But some part of me knew that was a lie. I’d felt so different when I was with Rhys; I knew it was partially due to him that I suddenly felt confident enough to put everything on the line in practice, to even consider switching to a ‘less practical’ major. Even though he’d cheated. Now I knew I could conquer that sort of insult, channel that frustration into productive things that would hopefully make my life better. 

I hadn’t seen or explained what had happened between Rhys and me to either of my sisters, but tonight was the night I was planning on telling Elain about my newfound motivation. However, I had not expected Azriel, looking slightly disheveled and embarrassed, to be sitting in her apartment when I arrived. 

“Azriel… What are you doing here?” I asked him, even as I shot Elain a look.

She grinned weakly. “Az was just leaving!” She said, grabbing his arm and pulling him off the couch. He acquiesced because Elain definitely wasn’t strong enough to pull Azriel up off anything. 

“Az?” I asked her. 

Azriel’s cheeks were bright red and he wasn’t making eye contact. I glanced between them. “Is something going on here?”

“Bye Azriel!” Elain said, her voice strained and cheeks equally as pink as Azriel’s. 

Azriel grabbed his jacket from where it was laying haphazardly on the floor next to the couch. I shot Elain another look and she didn’t even try to smile. She just pushed him out and slammed it shut.

“Elain Archeron, you bad, bad, girl,” I said, unable to restrain myself.

“Oh shut up,” she said, throwing herself onto the couch and covering her face with her hands. 

“You want to tell me how long that’s been going on?” 

“Well, if you mean by, how long have I been seeing him, then only a week and a half. If you mean how long I’ve been talking to him… Over two months. We connected on a dating app, and at first it was funny because we were kind of connected through you, even though you two weren’t really close at the time. So we laughed about it and just never stopped texting. Our first real date was last week.”

I grew more and more stunned as Elain explained. She looked at me, obviously finished with details, and I closed my mouth, which had been hanging open. 

“Elain, I’m--”

“Don’t you dare ask me if I think I’m ready for this.”

“I wasn’t going to! I’m--I’m so, so happy for you!” I screeched, unable to contain my happiness that Elain had found somebody, whether it be long term or not, after Greyson. That bastard had hurt her and she deserved so much better. And I knew for a fact that Azriel was a good man. I threw myself at Elain, hugging her tight. “Are you happy?”

Elain’s slender arms wrapped around me hesitantly, and she patted me on the back. “I really like him, Feyre. And we’ve only been officially going out for like a week but everything feels so natural with him. I’m not afraid of it. He’s so easy to talk to, and kind, and…”

I pulled back, realizing there was one question I still didn’t know the answer to. “Was he supposed to be here when I arrived?”

She shook her head, standing up to walk into the kitchen. I followed, seating myself at the bar across from her as she pulled out a skillet and some ground beef. “Tacos okay?” She asked, and I nodded. “To answer your question, no, he was not supposed to be here. I called him to come dispose of a rat for me. Wine?” 

I nodded and she opened a bottle of red. “So you mean to tell me,” I said slowly, accepting the wineglass she offered, “that you called Azriel over here because you had a rat in your apartment?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Why is that so odd? Azriel acted strange about it too. You know what he asked me? He said, ‘Oh, so is there actually a rat in your apartment?’ What’s that about?” 

I rested my forehead on the counter in front of me. “Elain. I’m so glad you’ve found Azriel but you can be so clueless sometimes. He thought you asked him over here to have sex!”

“What? That makes no sense.”

“That’s like, the classic signal. You call your boyfriend, telling him there’s a bat in your attic or a chick on the loose in the house! Then you pretend to look for it, both of you knowing full well there’s not an actual rodent loose in the house. And then you… you know.”

“Oh God. That is so not a thing.” Elain downed half of her glass of wine in a few gulps.

“It’s a thing. I did it with Tamlin. And that’s all I’ll say about that.”

“Do me a favor, Feyre. Never mention this to anyone. And don’t give me any more details about your sex life with Tamlin, either.” 

“My lips are sealed on both counts, believe me.” 

Elain started browning the taco meat. “So… Speaking of boys.”

“No.”

“Feyre Archeron, so help me, you are going to tell me what happened between you and Rhys. I’m very concerned, here! Even Azriel doesn’t know and he’s one of Rhys’s best friends! Drink your wine and tell me the truth.”

I groaned. But it had to come out sometime, right? Now it was my turn to tell the truth. I had just barged in on Elain and her secret boyfriend. 

“Rhys cheated on me last week.”

Elain’s mouth popped open, the taco meat in front of her momentarily forgotten. “He did what.” 

For the second time, I explained what had gone down between Rhys and Amarantha in the alleyway outside of the club. 

“There’s got to be some sort of explanation,” Elain said. 

“That’s what Mor keeps saying. He cheated. End of story. It’s exactly what Tamlin did to me a month ago. I’m not putting up with that.” 

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

I slept over at Elain’s that night after she consoled me about Rhys and then told me I didn’t need him. She had mentioned a couple times that maybe there was an explanation that would somehow justify him kissing his ex while I was nearby. I just couldn’t bring myself to buy it. Because if there was an explanation for Rhys cheating... What if there had been an explanation for why Tamlin had cheated? What if I was just getting everything wrong?

When I got back to my house the next day, I realized the door was deadbolted.  Which meant I would have to call Ianthe, because she wasn’t answering the door. Shit. 

Five fruitless phone calls later, I was still stuck outside. I banged on the door. If it was deadbolted, someone had to be inside. 

“Hello? Ianthe! Let me in!” 

Nothing. I turned around, surveying the empty street. It was early for a Sunday morning. Most of my friends were probably asleep. I could possibly call Mor, but she lived with Rhys.  And I didn’t want to hang out anywhere that I might run into Rhys until Ianthe was able to let me in. I sat down on the steps and starting scrolling through my social media, waiting for a brilliant idea to hit me. 

And then I heard the door swing open from behind me. I turned around and came face to face with Tamlin. 

“What the hell are you doing inside my house.”

“It’s not just your house, you know,” he said, leaning against the door frame looking smug.

“You know what, I don’t want to think about what you were doing inside my house. Just get out of here,” I said, standing and making to move past him. 

“Come on, Feyre. We all know you’re fucking Rhys. I’m not allowed to have a little fun of my own?”

I glared at him. He hadn’t moved and was blocking the only entrance to the house. “I don’t give a fuck what you think I’ve been doing, nor do I care what you have been doing. I do however, demand that you get out of my way and fuck off.” 

He raised his hands. “Fine, fine. But I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.” His subsequent smile was enough to tell me exactly why I’d be seeing him. 

Ianthe was a bitch. And Tamlin was a dick. 

I pushed past him and slammed the door shut. Ianthe was in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a robe. 

“Feyre! I didn’t expect you back so early.”

I ignored her, dialing Mor as I walked downstairs to my floor of the house. She picked up on the first ring. 

“Who is calling me this early on a Sunday.” Mor’s sleepy voice issued from the phone. 

“I need a place to stay,” I said. “And I can’t stay in your guest room because, well, you know. And I can’t barge in on Elain because her place is way too small for two people. And I certainly cannot stay here any longer because Ianthe is now fucking my ex boyfriend. So tell me what to do.”

“That bitch,” Mor said. “I don’t know Feyre.” She hesitated. “I don’t think you can get out of your lease until the summer. Just stay with us. Please? Rhys is definitely gonna stay far away from you.” 

“You’re only saying that because you want us to reconcile.”

“So what if I do!” Mor exclaimed. “There’s got to be some sort of explanation,” she continued. “And Rhys is at least a more pleasant ex-boyfriend than Tamlin, you’ve got to admit. Just come stay here for the week and see if you can handle it.”

I thought about it. I really did not want to see Rhys. But when I weighed the pros and cons… 

Tamlin wouldn’t try to avoid seeing me. He got off on antagonizing me and generally being a dick. Rhys was as reluctant to see me as I was to see him. It might be better that way. And at least I’d have someone on my side with Mor there, instead of it being Ianthe and Tamlin against me in this house.

“Okay,” I agreed. “But only for the week.” 

I could sense Mor’s smile through the phone. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at ten. I’m going back to bed.”

TAGS----------

@aknymph​ @sleeping-and-books​ @queen-of-glass​ @fabfire​

[echoequinox]

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you wish to know better (i’m not gonna do that lmao). tagged by @hardisonparker​

name/nickname: echo! no nicknames, thank god

gender: woman comma trans question mark

star sign: i was born under the sign of the shadow on the first of sun’s height (or cancer, for the boring astrology)

height: 5′ 10″ (blech, tall girl squad)

time: 8:42am - only awake this early for a therapist who isn’t responding

birthday: july 1

favorite bands: at the moment uhhhh i dont... really listen to a lot of band bands. i’ll just say linkin park still

favorite solo artist: matt maeson and porter robinson for fuckin SURE

song stuck in my head: hero too from my hero academia by... chrissy costanza, i think?

last movie: i think my roommate made me watch To All the Boys I Loved Before: The Third One

last show: cw flash!! i’m really into it rn it’s fuckin great, cisco is a gem tbh

when did you create this blog: like..... 2013 i think, it was when i came out

what do I post: rarely anything, i dunno, clowns?

last thing googled: survey says.... elder scrolls star signs for the above joke JFDKSALC

do I get asks: no :) <3

why I chose my url: when i changed my name to echo i wanted to overhaul my brand so i moved from realityengineer/realityassassin to echoequinox. equinox doesn’t actually have any special meaning, it’s just another E word i liked, like echo

following: 286 but i really should go prune that and then follow new blogs with my more recent hyperfixations (like flash and my hero)

followers: i actually have like 400 followers but i keep forgetting followers on tumblr don’t mean shit like they do on twitter - zero fuckin engagement when it’s not people you know personally

average hours of sleep: anywhere from 6-14 hours a day, broken up every two hours by my insane sleep apnea that stops my breathing completely. i snore really bad lmfao 

lucky number: lucky? none. i like 7s though, like 7, 17, 27, etc. maybe it’s because they’re usually prime

instruments: so i played trombone in high school (ilu @exrayspex <3) but i dont play anything as of late. i really wanna get into music and make fun music in a daw like fruityloops, which i wholeheartedly believe to be an instrument

what am I wearing: this pink shirt that’s too small for me, like all my shirts. that’s it. the bare minimum of a therapy zoom call

dream job: either novelist or video game designer/writer. i really like writing. i wrote a really smutty monster fucker erotica that i’d love to publish but no one to read and edit it lmao whomp whomp (like it put it up on twitter and it didn’t even get any likes, it was rough)

dream trip: somewhere overseas. i really like italy and i’ve wanted to go to greece since i saw it in mamma mia lmfao 

last book I read: OOOOOH the new star wars novel from the high republic uhhh light of the jedi i think. “read” is a strong word - i finished about half of it and got distracted by everything else in my shitty life

favorite food: taco bell, PERIOD. more specifically like... the crunchwrap i guess - lots of meat and cheese, in a convenient to eat package (pro-tip: customize it in ANY way or you’ll get one of the ones sitting on the rack for like an hour). or the quesadilla but you literally have to get extra everything for it to be worth it, but the sauce is to die for. get the app, y’all, you can customize whatever you want super easy, pay for it there, and at the drive thru be like “i have a mobile order for echo” and that’s IT. minimal contact, it’s a godsend

nationality: white (american)

favorite song: uhhh? right now it’s either Hero Too from my hero or Get Your Wish by Porter Robinson 🥺 it feels so painfully trans (also whenever i see porter robinson i think of the “your brother is gnc af” “YOURE INSANE” post because got damn porter is gnc af lmfao)

top three fictional universes: i gueeess i gotta say....... tamriel (elder scrolls), thedas (dragon age), and the my hero universe? yeah that tracks

[5am-moonlight]

can i get some mcfreakin uhhhh voltron matt x reader fluffy times 👀

yo nonnie I’m sorry this took so fucking long

also the cat is based off a real stray cat that we kept for like two weeks on and off but it’s g he has a genuine home now also the allergy thing happened too 🤙

Uhh yes this is Christmas themed (I kno, it’s not Halloween yet, I hate myself too) but there’s no real mention of the holiday,,, warnings: uhhh idk mention of condoms but all still pg 12.

The minute you woke up on Christmas Eve, you started to really get excited. You’d known exactly what to get Matt, you saw how his eyes lingered on the new Killbot Phantasom: Battle for Earth. Apparently it was completely revamped, 4K HD Graphics, new mech characters. You liked games, not as much as him, you were more computer-y, but you played some PS4 games now and again when you had the time, and you had to agree it did look amazing. You had pre-ordered it months, even a year or so ago, and you were incredibly excited to see his face when you gave him his gift.

Meanwhile, Matt was absolutely shitting himself. He had wanted to get you the new Killbot Phantasom game, as it was something you guys could play together, but it had completely sold out. He could admit, his present choice was completely selfish but he would take any excuse to spend time with you now. Even as roommates, you guys saw very little of each other. You were working a part time undergrad degree in cyber security, and had a part time job, so if you weren’t asleep you were out of the house. Matt was a full time post grad student, and he sometimes even did bartending gigs to get some more funds in. You were both in school on scholarships, but money is something you could never have too much of in college. However recently, you’d managed to get the Christmas break off from your job because of the amount of overtime you’d done, and Matt had claimed he was ‘out of the state’ and ‘visiting family for Christmas’ so his boss would also let him have the few weeks too. He was adamant that you guys would be able to spend some time together, so he’d told you he’d had planned a Christmas dinner type thing and to buy some food (majoritly drink, he’d wrote it on the list three separate times,) and anything else that you guys might want, snacks and stuff. He knew you didn’t really like big events or anything and he promised it wasn’t actually anything like a genuine family Christmas dinner, neither of you actually celebrated Christmas, not enough money and not enough time, among other things, and you were incredibly excited. Hell, any reason to spend any time with Matt alone made you excited. He was your best friend first, and crush second but the more time went on the more you could tell this was starting to become something more than a crush. The way his laugh made your stomach get butterflies, or how he would stick his tongue out through his teeth when he was really concentrating, completely lost in his work. Or the days when he would come up behind you and pick you up in surprise. You knew he loved you, albeit only platonically, but you’d been in love with him for so long you’d happily take being his best friend over potentially loosing him. Didn’t really help he was really fucking pretty though.

Although if he was asked, he’d say the exact same thing about you.

When he woke up, he was incredibly nervous. He’d managed to scrap together some things he’d thought you’d like, but it wasn’t what he thought would be perfect. He knew you’d love anything you were given, but he wanted to feel like his gift was perfect. He’d also decided (see: be threatened by Pidge that if he didn’t she was gonna tell you herself) that he was gonna tell you how he felt, and he was terrified. Objectively, he knew he couldn’t keep his feelings for you under wraps for much longer. Every little thing you did was driving him insane. The way you’d look when you just woke up, sleepy and mumbling. The one time you accidentally poured orange juice into your cereal and turned around and buried your head in his shoulder, groaning. He’d spent the rest of the day blushing, so much so that Pidge actually thought he was ill. Or the way, sometimes, if he asked you about your day or your favourite hobby, your eyes would smile, and you’d get so excited. The main thing, that would always make him smile, no matter what, was the way you’d ask him to do something you knew he didn’t want. You would hug his arm, and beg “Please Matty?”. Your eyes would go big and you’d jump up and laugh and hug him if he’d agree. He always knew that you’d never do anything he actually didn’t want, and he trusted you with his life.

You’d come home once, drenched in rain, and in the middle of running to the bathroom, your jacket had meowed. Your eyes had gone really wide and then you’d slowly put your hand in your coat and brought out a tiny kitten, the size of your hands and placed him right in front of Matt’s face. “Please?”. You’d looked so mischievous and hopeful, he couldn’t say no. Also, the fact you’d hugged him for like ten minutes and kept on referring to him as “daddy” when talking to the kitten, which made his heart incredibly weak and made him feel incredibly soft. You’d called the kitten Monroe, and you were so soft for him. Until Matt discovered he was allergic to cats. You’d spent the night with him after you’d given Monroe to Pidge, just talking and watching movies. You’d seen how sad he was, which surprised himself, Monroe had been your baby, and made him a pillow fort in the sitting room, and gotten a ton of cat related movies on your Netflix. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and when he tried to move you to make you more comfortable, you’d mumbled and snuggled into him, clinging onto his chest. He remembered how his heart was going 50m/ph, and how peaceful you had looked. He hadn’t ever wanted a pet, but now he was happy you’d gotten one, no matter how it ended.

He started work on the “Christmas dinner” which was essentially his mother’s recipe for mac and cheese which included five different cheeses, some store bought potato salad, Doritos, dips, and a bags of jellies and sweets and chocolates. He managed to set everything up like a pic’n’mix stall, and got to work on the movie set up. His memory of you and him in the pillow fort remains one of his favourites, as the day he knew he had fallen in love with you. You texted Matt you were on your way home, after stopping from the shopping centre to pick up his gift, and some more sugary stuff, including a Lindt chocolate bunny that you would get each other every year, and a pack of condoms as a joke, since you’d seen him with a really smart, pretty new girl in his class. You knew she liked him, she’d come up to you at one point asking about Matt since she knew you two were roommates. He was always nervous around girls, with exception to you, which you put down to the fact you’d known him for most of your life, grown up together. You’d tried to set him up with some girls, and a few guys you knew, as a kind of way to force yourself to get over him. You’d been in love with him as long as you could remember, but realistically you knew it was never gonna happen. You didn’t like to think about too much because it made your heart hurt, like there was a hole in your chest, but you knew he was a genuine guy and whoever he would end up with was definitely lucky. Even if it wasn’t you.

You’d reached your front door at this point, and stood up straight, taking a deep breath.

“Hey! I’m hom-“ You were shocked. The hall had been decorated with fairy lights. You walked into the sitting room, speechless. You had obviously known that Matt was preparing something but not *this. He had taken his mattress, and yours you’d assumed, and put them where the couch had been. The couch had been pulled back and the cushioning taken down and put around the mattresses, for head rests and back rests, making a sort of crude looking chaise longue. There were pillows everywhere, and stacked piles of duvets and blankets. There was a small table on both sides of the fort, filled with what looked like movie bags of sweets, and wrapped presents,as well as a pic’n’mix table behind the couch. Matt hadn’t realised you were home, and he was still working in the kitchen.

“Matt”. You breathed out. “This is..insane. It must have taken you forever!”

He jumped a little bit at your voice, not expecting you some until another half an hour.

“Oh! Yeah hey y/n, I...uh, was-wasn’t expecting you until another while. D-do you like it? Everything?”

You placed your bag-for-life on the counter top and ran over to him, tackling him in a hug.

“Mattie, it looks amazing. What possessed you to work so hard on this?”

He blushed, a red flush working all the way up to the tips of his ears, and looked down to the floor.

You ducked under him, as he was much taller than you, and put your finger under his chin as to make him look at you.

“Hey, what’s up? Talk to m- hmmph”

He had slipped his strong arms around your middle and kissed you. You melted into the kiss, balancing yourself by putting your arms around his shoulders. He hoisted you up, so you would wrap your legs around him, as he held you impossibly close. You broke away with a gasp, after what seemed like hours. You’d only done it once but you knew you could loose yourself in kissing Matt.

“How long?” He seemed breathless, still holding on to your waist.

“Remember that time you defeated the final boss in Killbot Phantasom, and you picked me up and spun me around? Then”

He laughed at that, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Then? I was 10 years old, you’d gotten the game for your 7th birthday. That long?”

You ruffled his hair, and moved to hold his hand.

“C’mon. I’ve something to show you”

You brought him out to the sitting room, still holding his hand, then pushed him onto the mattresses. He made an indignant yelp, which made you laugh, and then you yelled as he pulled you down with him. You landed on him with an oof, laughing as he started messing with you, kissing your face and neck. You eventually came out on top, resting your hands on his sides. You reached over to his table, picking up your present for him, wrapped so carefully.

“Here. Open it.”

You placed it on his chest, still partially sitting in his lap while he sat up a little straighter. He looked incredibly excited, pausing for a second before mauling the gift open. He stopped when he recognised the cover, not even fully opening your gift before he carefully placed it beside him, and tackled you guys over, so he was out on top.

“You didn’t”

“I did”

“New plan for the Christmas break, we aren’t leaving the apartment until that’s finished. You started this, now you’re stuck with me”

You smiled, and pulled him down for another breathtaking kiss.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[ubernoxa]

Chapter 14: A First Date

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter 14:

Delilah stood in the kitchen chopping up peppers for lunch. She originally was going to make breakfast, but as it was 1pm when she woke up in Duff’s arms she decided on lunch instead.

“Do you always make the guys food?” Delilah laughed at Drew’s question.

“I’ve made the past couple. It honestly all comes down to who is here at the time...and awake,” Drew jotted down some notes as Delilah spoke.

“Sorry if I’m asking too many questions,” Delilah looked into Drew’s soft eyes and smiled.

“No, you’re fine. It’s nice having someone to talk to,” Delilah added looking up on the clock.

“Do you all usually get up in the afternoon?”

“No usually I’m up by 10 in the morning at the latest. Last night Duff and I were up late,” Delilah smiled as she finished chopping up the peppers.

“Up late?”

“No no no, not like that,” Delilah quickly corrected herself earning a laugh from Drew

“Ohh please do tell Del,” Mags said walking into the room with a blanket wrapped around her.

“We just stayed up late, talking and stuff,”

“Stuff,” Mags cocked an eyebrow at Delilah’s comment.

“Fine we cuddled and made out,” Delilah’s cheeks turned red as she mumbled and immediately went back to cooking.

“Alright mister next big journalist, do you have your story?” Mags teased trying to grab his journal.

Delilah focused on assembling the sandwiches as fast as she could in order to get out of the room. To say she felt awkward in the room while Mags flirted with the writer was an understatement.

“I think I might have something,” he replied tapping his journal.

“Can I ask you some questions too? I was quizzing Delilah earlier and I think she is too nice to tell me to get lost,” Drew added opening up his journal again and pulling out a pen.

“Well you are 100% correct, Delilah is probably the nicest out of all of us,” Mags added.

“Speaking on that, how did you two meet?” They two girls gave off a different vibe. It was more of a question on how Delilah, who seemed sweet and very straight and narrow met Mags and the band.

“A bar, and then we hung out back stage. Now we’re roommates. Feels like it was only a week ago,” Delilah snorted at Mag’s comment as she grabbed a sandwich and left the room to go sit on the couch.

“Hey Delly,” Delilah smiled as Duff joined her on the couch.

“Hey Duffles,” Delilah smiled as she passed her sandwich.

Duff places it down on the table and stood up, Delilah quickly following him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Are you free tonight?” His voice was no louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, why?” One of the few perks of leaving everything she once knew behind.

“Be here at 8, it’s about time I took you on a date,” He played with Delilah’s hair as he spoke sending the butterflies that were in Delilah’s stomach into total chaos. Maybe Duff did like her, Delilah thought to herself as she watched Duff twirl her hair.

Without hesitation, he bent down and kissed her. What started out slow quickly sped up as he guided her to lay down on the couch. A loud moan filled the room as Duff climbed on top of Delilah, and it drove him crazy. He wanted her. No he didn’t want her, he needed her. Despite the noise that would lead the two of them to get caught, they kept going. Neither of them cared. The more Delilah pulled his hair the hungrier he became. It was an endless cycle that was only stopped when Slash yelled across the hall, “Get a damn room. No one wants to see ya fuck.”

Delilah felt her face flash red and Duff shot Slash a look before chasing after him. Delilah grabbed her sandwich and headed back to the kitchen.

“Good morning Izzy,” Delilah said as she noticed him eating a sandwich at their sad excuse of a table.

“Sounds like you are having a better morning then me,” he noted before grabbing another bite of his sandwich.

“Hey, shut it,” Delilah snapped at Izzy who just laughed.

“You know Delilah you’re not that threatening,” Axl added with a smirk on his face that mimicked Izzy’s.

“No, but that’s my job,” Duff walked into the kitchen now, a smirk on his face as he wrapped his arm around Delilah’s waist causing her to subconsciously lean into him.

——————-

“So he asked you on an actual date?” Mags asked while they drove back to her place.

“Yeah,” Delilah couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of her face.

“What are you going to wear?” Mags asked causing panic to grow over Delilah.

“I uhhh..I,” Delilah had only ever been on one other first date, but this date wasn’t setup by her parents. This one she actually cared about.

“Let’s go shopping then. I would lend you my clothes, but it’s special occasions like these that you should buy a new dress for. I know a second hand store that’ll have something that you will hopefully like,” Mags smiled as she quickly switch lanes.

It was only a 10 minute drive to the small resale shop. The moment they walked in Mags grabbed a small shopping basket and followed Delilah.

“My treat,” Mags said as she began to browse the dresses section.

“Oh I couldn’t,” before Delilah could continued Mags interrupter her, “oh yes you could. You’re my new roommate, so why not. Plus I’ve never gotten you a birthday present before, and you’ve had what 18 birthdays is it now? I’ve missed 18 of them.” Mags dramatically tossed her head back earning a giggle from Delilah.

“Fine, but I owe you one. Remember that,” Delilah pulled out a floral dress.

Mags shook her head no and replied, “if you keep making food for all the guys and visitors in that hell of an apartment, we are the ones who will owe you.”

“Did I miss anything last night once Duff and I left?” Delilah asked as she moved into another section.

Mags froze in her tracks, but quickly collected herself. “Nothing much. Continued to drink, talked, and Axl almost got into a fight.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Delilah laughed as she pulled out another dress and immediately put it back. To gaudy for her taste.

“Sometimes I worry about him, all of them actually. Like for instance is Izzy okay? He never seems to hang out with the guys at night,” Mags could feel her heart warm, not only at Delilah’s words but the concern in her voice. Part of her also wondered when someone would tell Delilah that Izzy sold drugs.

“You’re not alone, welcome to the club. We call ourselves the mother’s of Guns N’ Roses. We meet Sundays at 10 AM aka the only time when Guns N’ Roses is sleeping and not spreading chaos and making stupid decisions,” the girls laughter fill the room as the continued to shop.

They wandered up and down the aisles looking for something, anything that would work, but they were not lucky. That is until Mags stumbled across a white dress on the return rack outside the dressing room. She quickly snatched it off the rack. It was a thin dress perfect for the hot summers. She smiled at the small blue flowers that covered the dress. It was perfect.

“Hey, Del!” Magmas raised the small dress into the air earning a smile from her. She checked the price and thanked God it was only a couple of dollars.

“Go try this on while I go find some shoes,” Mags handed her the dress, but Delilah quickly protested.

“It’s the least I can do,”

“The least you’re could do it nothing,” Delilah replied before Mags shoved her into the dressing room.

“Shoe size?”

Delilah sighed at Mag’s words. Delilah sensed that Mags was stubborn, but now she learned how correct she was about Mag’s stubbornness. “Seven”

Was part of Mags vicariously living through Delilah right now? Yes.

Did Mags wish she had a friend who helped her prepare for her first date? Yes.

But most of all, Mags knew the storm that Delilah was running from. She would do anything to help the girl, her friend.

She browsed the shoe collection only to find a couple of shoes that could work. Her eyes immediately darted to the pair of blue strapped heels, perfect.

Within no time they bought the clothes and drove back to Mags apartment.

“You say you have a roommate, but I have never actually seen her,” Delilah said strolling into the bathroom to take a shower.

“Trust me it’s better off that way,” Mags joked back, well at least partly joked.

———————-

“Duff come on man, you’re gonna use up all of the hot water,” Steven whined while pounding on the bathroom door.

“If you keep pounding on the door, it might actually break open,” Izzy groaned from the kitchen eating some leftovers.

“Maybe that’s what I want,” A wicked smile crossed his face.

“If you need help, go get Axl. It’s kinda his forte,” Izzy chuckled as he went back to eating.

“What’s my forte? What the fuck is going on out here,” Axl screamed over Steven pounding on the door.

“Duff is probably preparing for his date with Del,” Slash said while continuing to strum his guitar on the couch.

“Huh, he actually did it,” Axl said under his breathe. Slash heard what Axl said loud and clear, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t feel like dealing with Axl’s wrath.

The water turned off and Steven’s pounding stopped.

It only took a couple of minutes for Duff to put on his eye liner and ‘style’ his hair. As Duff left the bathroom he was welcomed into the hallway with a series of whistles and cat calls from his band mates.

“Ohh Duffy, ohhhh Duuuuffffyyyy,” Slash screamed from the couch, Axl soon joining him. Duff slammed the door to his shared bedroom as he dug through his clothing trying to block out his band mates screaming and laughter.

Delilah stood outside the door to his apartment, frozen. She was a couple minutes early. Should she knock. Should she stand out here and wait. What if he was waiting on the other side? What is he was just now getting in the shower?

Delilah took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“It’s unlocked Del, you can come it,” Delilah smiled at the sound of Izzy’s voice. She quickly opened the door to see Axl, Steven, Izzy, and Slash relaxing on the floor and couch.

“Hey,” Delilah walked in now feeling the nerves growing in her stomach.

She was welcomed by a bunch of heys and immediately felt awkward. They were all staring at her, were they waiting for her to come by? Did they know about the date?

Slash scooted over on the couch making room for Delilah, she thanked him and quickly sat down.

“So where are y’all going?” Axl asked, more curious than anything.

“I have no idea,” Delilah replied now mindlessly fidgeting with the hem of her dress. So they did not about the date.

“Well do us a favor and don’t eat all of whatever Duff cooked for your dinner. It smelled amazing,” Izzy joked .

“Hmm so a picnic is involved,” Delilah said under her breath. She didn’t know he could cook.

“Do you guys know anything?” Delilah asked curious to hear any more potential hints.

“Besides the fact that he has a bag with a blanket and food in it, we know absolutely nothing,” Steven added.

That’s when Duff walked in. He saw Delilah sitting on the old couch smiling and talking with his band mates. He watched as Steven made a stupid joke and they all laughed. She looked at home amongst them.

Duff walked into the room and immediately made eye contact with her and smiled. She looked gorgeous. Both of them remained frozen in time as their the butterflies grew larger in their stomachs.

“Nice hat,” Duff interrupted Steven’s story commenting on the hat he gave Delilah the night before which she currently wore.

“Thanks,” Delilah felt her cheeks go instantly red. Why was she so nervous? It was just Duff. They had spent so many other nights before with each other and talking till the sun came up. This was different thought, this was a first date. Delilah wasn’t a fool, she saw the girls at the party last night. He could have had anyone of those groupies, but he chose her. Why?

“Hey, you ready to go?” Duff grabbed the basket and held out his hand to Delilah. The white flowered dress flowed angelicly behind her as she stood up and walked towards him.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t lose her breath the moment their eyes met. He wore black leather pants with a white puffy shirt that was partially unbuttoned. She gladly took his hand and then they left the apartment.

“Fuck, wait here,” the two of them didn’t even make it down a flight of stairs when Duff put the basket down and ran back up the stairs and into the apartment.

“Back so soon?”

“Run outa stamina already?”

“Dude, you okay?”

We’re amongst some of the things his band mates asked him as he ran into the apartment to grab his leather jacket. No, not for him, but for Delilah just Incase she got cold.

[oddcoupler222]

Akskdkdk I’m not crying I just got some tww feelings in my eyes and to the rest of tww fans you’re welcome (I’m the biggest one of them all) let it be multi chapter 🤲🏻

did i take one person asking for something and turn it into a spinoff semi romance novel? i… may have.

Eliza -

Colleen -

(for funsies)

 Fall 2018

Eliza wouldn’t say she loved her work study job in the registrar’s office. But she had friends with various other jobs throughout campus, and she knew because of their tales that her job wasn’t the worst.

Would she love to trade with her new friend, Sara, and have the job in the printing lab in the library, where she would just have to un-jam the printer and restock it with paper, then sit on her laptop? Of course. But she was also nosy as fuck and she got a lot of insider info from her supervisor here. Plus, she got all of the registration codes early. So who was the real winner?

Still Sara.

“Hello? Hi. I’m sorry, are you busy? I’m - I’m not trying to be obnoxious, but I really really have to get into a class, and I have nowhere else to go to ask. I’ve tried the professor, I’ve tried her TA. I’ve asked all of the upperclassmen I know. And this is the final stop before I may very well have a breakdown.”

A frantic, pleading voice interrupted her IG scrolling. It was technically one of her two fifteen minute breaks that she got during her five hour shift. She intended to tell the interloper that she would have to wait until the other side of the office didn’t have a line, because where her desk was, was technically closed.

But Eliza had never seen an angel in real life before. And she was such a simple, simple lesbian.

Never in her life had she ever been struck like this, though. The tousled blonde hair that she could see was usually nice and orderly. The clothes that screamed an upper-middle class (at the very least) background, though trendy.

Blue eyes crystal clear but starting to brim with tears.

“I’m not busy. What can I do for you?”

“Thank the gods! In order to graduate on time with my major and both of my minors, I need to double up on some courses. Which means I have to take some courses before I’m technically supposed to. So, I got permission to take Ethnicity and Identity with Dr. Oakhart next semester, even though it’s a semester early. Because I need to take Cultures of Essos the semester after, and it’s a prereq. But it took forever to get permission to take Oakhart’s class early; I had to basically camp out in her office,” a little laugh fluttered out, anxiously. “And now? She gave me permission but told me she wouldn’t let me jump the waitlist. I just. I really need to get into that class. Can you even just tell me how long the waitlist is, maybe? Please?”

Someone was wound extremely tightly. It wasn’t usually something Eliza, as a laidback person, enjoyed. But she was already charmed.

“Let me check.”

She typed in her credentials into the system as she surreptitiously glanced up at the girl. Her cheeks were flushed and seven hells. She was cute.

“You really camped out in her office?”

“Huh?” A fleeting smile flashed over her face, and it warmed everything inside of her. “Oh. Well, I know it sounds crazy in retrospect. I can just sometimes get very focused.”

“I gotcha.” Eliza did not, in fact, relate. But her pretending to put this girl at ease.

She pulled up Oakhart’s Gender and Identity class for the spring – and yikes, there was a waitlist a mile long.

“That’s not a good face.”

“Ouch.” She kidded.

“Gods! No, your face isn’t -”

She stopped her before she could ramble anymore. Especially because she wasn’t sure she could handle some sort of mangled compliment from this gorgeous creature without stumbling over herself. “It’s cool. Uh, yeah, no the waitlist isn’t bad.” She lied through her teeth.

“It’s not?” The could-be model’s voice was as incredulous as it should be, as she tried to lean over the counter to see the computer. Like she had to see to believe.

And Eliza quickly turned the computer more toward herself, “Uh, you can’t - against policy-” once again, the lies.

“Sorry. That was probably crossing a line.” She blew out a deep breath and her shoulders deflated. “I guess, can you just put me on the bottom of the list?”

“Yeah,” she lied, fully intending on breaking the rules, as she clicked the top of the waitlist to flag her into the class. “I just need… your name.”

She very much wanted to learn her name.

“Colleen Durand. D-U-R-A-N-D,” she spelled it, and Eliza could very easily see that she’d spelled her name or heard it spelled just so in order to get places in life many times.

She typed her name into the first place on the wait list. “I imagine you will probably hear about this class sometime soon. Don’t fill this block on your class schedule.”

An all too brief, but brightly blazing smile stole her breath. “Thanks so much.” Colleen checked her wrist, a nice looking silver watch glinting in the light coming in from the window. “Gods, I have to go. All right. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome!” She called after her.

Colleen Durand. She loved the registrar’s office.

Spring 2019

Approaches to Comparative Literature… was a joke.

Colleen rarely thought of classes like that, because all she had in her head was her mother’s voice, saying, “If I’m paying for you to go to a public institution“ - even though it wasn’t in the top 5 universities in the nation (god forbid she go to a public university, even if it was ranked as one of the top ten colleges in the country) - “You’d better be bringing back nothing short of straight A’s.”

She was a junior in college, was on track to graduate at the top of her class even with having two minors - she took 6 classes a semester, not counting the summer and winter semester courses she took. And she took all of them seriously - took color coded notes by hand, sat in the front of the class.

But this course… she just couldn’t. She tried for the first two weeks, learned that the professor left much of his job up to the TA, and then said TA had hit on her in an extremely slimy way and she - well, after that she started slipping into the back row. Just this one class wouldn’t hurt.

She was the only one in her row and sitting in the back gave her a whole new perspective.

It especially gave her a perspective on the girl she’d only known as Nice Girl at the registrar office who doesn’t think I’m crazy before now, and now she knew her name - Eliza.

Eliza, she’d learned from sitting in the front, types vigorously during every class on her laptop and occasionally makes very funny commentary.

It was only in switching her seat to sit behind Eliza that she realized she isn’t taking notes on her laptop, but was instead just being very active on various social medias. Mostly twitter.

@elizathesapphicSCREAMING my TA just announced that some of our earliest lgbt writers were great friends and roommates. i could teach this course better lmao

She wasn’t wrong.

@elizathesapphica limerick -there once was a TA from hellwhose hair is rock solid from gelhis voice is nasally and gratinghis ignorance is so fucking frustratinglet’s not forget he’s smarmy as well

Colleen had genuinely had to smother a laugh from that one. And, it turned out, from many others. The semester passed in a blur of moments - her twentieth birthday, an intense and stressful visit from her mom, juggling 6 courses and her first practicum - but Eliza stands out.

They don’t talk, because… well, what would they even talk about? They seem like really different people and Eliza is super lively, but she learns a lot about her.

If it wasn’t obvious from her twitter handle (obviously), she’s a lesbian. Who very much loves Margaery Tyrell - someone Colleen vaguely knows is a recently out politician - and Sansa Stark - who Colleen is very familiar with, because of the writings she’d done and the classes she’d taken that Sansa had TA’d for before she’d finished her master’s - and their very public relationship.

As well as many, many other lesbian celebrities and television shows that Colleen does not watch or follow, but is still entertained by because Eliza is entertaining.

At the end of the semester, she follows Eliza’s twitter on the account she never uses that is basically untraceable to her. It has her name on it, sure, but nothing else. No pictures. No retweets.

But Eliza’s twitter is good for a laugh and sometimes she needs that.

Fall 2019

“Ohhhh my godddd, Sara. Can you believe it’s her?” Eliza wrapped her arm around her best friend’s shoulders, pulling her close - as if they could shrink back against the wall behind them.

They were going home the following day for winter break and so it seemed like everyone who had an off campus apartment was throwing a party. Which was great because Eliza hadn’t gone out this semester much at all. There had been too much work and too much - uhhh well, being lazy and not wanting to leave her dorm when she could binge watch shows with Sara.

Sara elbowed her in the side accidentally as they fell back against the wall. “It’s who?”

She pointed across the large living area full of tipsy-to-drunk college students, to the front door. “Colleen! She - I don’t think she ever comes out? Why do you think she is right now?”

Sara’s eyes rolled before she jostled their shoulders. “Oh you mean your cruuuush. I don’t know, it’s the end of the semester. Everyone’s out. It’s not a big deal.”

Eliza ignored her and stared at Colleen as she and a friend Eliza recognized didn’t know the name of - she was a master social media creep but that didn’t help when someone didn’t have social medias - chatted and made their way across the room.

And her heart started racing. “Oh my gods. Oh. She’s coming over here. Do you think she -”

“We’re right next to the drinks, why do you think she’s coming over?” Sara’s retort quickly popped her rapidly inflating hopes, and she trained a critical eye on Colleen-Gorgeous-Durand. “That is dream crush girl?”

Eliza spun so quickly to face Sara that she nearly sloshed her vodka cranberry over the rim of her cup. “How can you say it like - like that? Look at her!”

“I mean. She is pretty. In a buttoned up way.” Sara turned to face her, having to tilt her head up just enough to quirk an eyebrow. “Is that your type? You haven’t dated much in our eight month friendship tenure.”

Eliza scoffed. “No! No. I don’t have a… type.” She started slapping Sara’s arm, “Ohhhh gods, she’s coming, she’s coming, she’s -”

Sara caught her hand and held it tight, hissing, “Calm down, you look insane.”

Colleen approached them with a nervous looking smile. “Hey. Can I ask where you got your drink?” She surveyed the table in front of her, dubiously, “I just don’t really see the mixer I want -”

It was like an automatic reaction. Eliza’s hand shot out and offered her cup, “Take it! Still full. Just made it. Made tons of them. See?” She held it up so the rim reflected the dim light. “I didn’t take a sip yet or anything. I can go make another cup.”

Those sky blue eyes were so brilliantly light and she gave the slightest twitch of an eyebrow as she accepted Eliza’s drink. “Um… thanks?”

“Yeah. No prob. Enjoy.” She grinned, knowing it was too bright for the moment, but whatever.

She felt triumphant, even when Sara collapsed against her in a fit of giggles as Colleen walked away. “Holy shit. I see now why you haven’t dated.”

“Um, what is that supposed to mean? She sought me out.” Now that she replayed the interaction, though, she could… sort of… see where she’d gone wrong.

Oh, fuck.

Sara only laughed harder, letting Eliza’s hand go and wrapping it around her waist in a hug. “Listen.” She tried to calm her laughter. “Listen. What I just witnessed means one of two things: your crush is an absolute idiot who took a drink from you, a weird ass stranger at a party. Or she actually somewhat recognizes you, too, and doesn’t think you’re a creepy stranger.”

“Oh, fuck. Now I need to find more cranberry juice.”

Spring 2020

“Who’s that girl over there? She keeps looking at us.” Colleen’s friend and flatmate, Natalia, commented. They were in the dining hall, which is a rarity since they hadn’t lived on campus since they were freshmen.

“What girl?”

“Pretty, dark hair, dark eyes. She has like 4 piercings up her ear. She has a rainbow pin on her backpack. Seems gay.”

Pretty with dark hair and eyes, the earrings, and the dead giveaway rainbow pin already tells her it’s most likely Eliza Harlow, even before she turns and looks. Colleen rolls her eyes. “How does she seem gay? Besides the rainbow pin,” she adds on, even though she knows - of course Eliza Harlow is gay.

Her still very active twitter is still hilarious and very, very full of lesbian pop culture. It’s gotten almost kind of frustrating, the fact that Eliza never really posts anything about herself on her twitter. Colleen definitely knows she is a lesbian more than anything - she posted something just last night about a pro soccer player and proclaimed that her lesbian heart wasn’t going to survive her coming out.

But she never posts anything about her own life. It’s not like Colleen cares? But she can’t help but be intrigued. It’s weird. But maybe that’s just the culture they live in these days.

She still turns and looks where Natalia is pointing, anyway. Sure enough, Eliza is sitting - backpack perched on the table next to her bagel, rainbow pin on display - with her ever present friend whose name Colleen knows is Sara (thanks, twitter). Pretty with her dark hair curling, as usual, over her shoulders.

And, Natalia was right. She’s throwing looks over at them.

Eliza had spoken to her for the first time, without having to do so for a class project, last week. She’d tossed her backpack over her shoulder super casually - Colleen had noticed out of the corner of her eye, as she’d packed up her own bag - and approached her.

“Can I borrow your notes?”

Colleen was always loathe to part with her notes. She took pride in them - even color coded them - and she doubted that strangers would take as much care with them as they deserved.

But Eliza… well, she didn’t really know her. But she didn’t feel like a stranger either. Especially with her eyes looking all hopeful and nervous. She wondered if Eliza had fallen behind in class with all of the work she was doing on her social medias. Or on her work for the internship she had at the Red Keep (thanks, twitter).

She’d handed over her notebook with a smile that was genuine.

“Whatever. The rainbow pin is why she seems gay, fine. But she’s coming over here.” Natalia brings her back to the moment, making a face at the meatloaf she’s eating before she pushes the tray away. 

Colleen sat up straighter, dropping her own fork. “That’s Eliza. We’re in Valyrian Lit class together.”

Eliza walked even closer, looking… apprehensive. Her big, expressive eyes were downcast, as she worried at her generous bottom lip. Which was weird because no, she didn’t know Eliza personally. But she kind of did know her personality. And she was not apprehensive.

It took a moment for Colleen to notice the notebook in her hands. And that it wasn’t the same green one - always green notebooks for lit classes - she’d given Eliza three days ago.

“Hey! Colleen! Hey. Uhhh. I have… your notebook.” Eliza held out the notebook toward her, shifting back and forth on her feet. “Your notes were - great. Such a help.”

“No problem, but…” Colleen eyed the notebook - a mint green as opposed to her hunter green. “That’s not mine.”

“No, it is! I - it is.” Eliza cleared her throat and slid it down onto the table. “It’s definitely yours, now. Um. The thing is. My obnoxious roommate  - I didn’t choose her? I was supposed to live with my friend, but then housing got all messed up and. It’s a whole thing,” she waved her hand, and Colleen, despite being so anal about what the fuck happened to her notebook, couldn’t help but be entertained. “The point is, she spilled her coffee all over your notebook.”

“What?!” All the gods, her notes. All her time and color coordination. And that had all of her handouts and - fuck. Dr. Lannister was not an easy professor to pass, his exams were notoriously difficult -

“Ohhhh, shit,” Natalia whispered.

Eliza quickly flipped the notebook open, frantically pointing at the pages. “No! Wait. I, I dried out your notebook and spent all last night re-writing your notes. I tried finding a matching notebook, but this was the only green one they had at the store. And I bought colored pens, because I figured out the color system, too. It’s all there. I swear. And I made copies of all of the handouts and put them in the back. Thanks. For the notes. I’ll never ask again, I swear.”

She hitched her backpack over her shoulder without another word and spun on her heel.

Colleen leaned over the table to peek at her notes and… wow. Eliza really did figure out her color coding system, even down to the obsessive tonal color changes for different types of literature. And. She skimmed her eyes quickly over the page - Eliza definitely left some insightful notes in here that Colleen herself had missed.

She turned her head to see if she could even call out her thanks to Eliza, but she was too far away. All she could see was the other girl slapping her palm against her forehead as she turned to leave the hall.

It made her smile.

Fall 2020

Professor Stark tapped her hands on her desk, “And as much as I know group projects aren’t everyone’s favorite thing, the sad reality is that we have to work with people in real life that we don’t get to choose. So, you will all individually document what you do in this project and then evaluate each other’s contributions at the end. You have your groups, the rubrik, and some examples to start with. Even though the project isn’t due for over a month, I would highly recommend starting it early.”

Eliza wouldn’t say she loved group work by any means, especially when the groups were assigned.

Colleen caught her eye and asked, “You want to come to my place this weekend to get started? I really don’t like to wait until the last minute for these kinds of things.”

Eliza was pretty sure she was going to write Sansa Stark a thank you letter.

[usemeasabadexample]

Bechloe One Shot: Balloons

Idk what I’m doing or how I got here. Thanks for the prompt and the kind messages. [Try to] Enjoy.

Balloons

Beca hears the front door of the Bella house open and slam shut. Heavy footsteps sound like they're headed in her direction and she knows who it is without having to look up.

After three years of living together, she pretty much has everyone's footsteps memorized. Can tell who's coming and going without a visual. It's actually a pretty useful skill.

“Hey Ames.” She finishes tying a string to a balloon before turning around to face her roommate. “What do you think?”

“Uhhh did someone die?”

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

Amy tosses her bag onto the sofa and throws her hands up. She looks confused. “Why are all the decorations black?” The blonde walks further into the room. “And what is this?”

“It's a picture of Chloe.” Beca shrugs. “I thought it was nice.”

“Ummm.” Amy looks at her like she's stupid. “Maybe if Chloe were Casper it would be nice.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Beca crosses her arms.

“It means it looks like we’re hosting Chloe's funeral instead of her birthday party tonight! Look around! Everything is black and you've got this big ass portrait of her at the front of the room.” She gestures towards the picture. “It's creepy.”

“It is not creepy!” Beca feels like smacking her.

It's not an unfamiliar feeling.

Amy plops down onto the sofa. “Whatever you say Shorty.”

Beca gives her a dirty look but it goes unnoticed because Amy is already engrossed in some magazine that says Dingo Weekly on the front.

“Who died?” Stacie is suddenly in the doorway filing her nails and Amy looks up from her magazine to give Beca an 'I told you so' look.

Beca groans. “No one died.”

“Yeah. Beca just wanted it to look like someone died.” Amy doesn't look up as she speaks and Stacie just stands there for a moment, looking around.

“Mission accomplished.” The tall brunette nods and strides over to the sofa, parking herself next to Amy.

“That's not...I didn't…” Beca runs her hands through her hair. She should have known better than to volunteer to decorate. She obviously sucks at it but she wanted it to be perfect for Chloe because Chloe always makes everyone else’s birthday so special.

She makes everything special.

Over the past few years, the redhead has planned more thoughtful celebrations than Beca can count. Every birthday. Every holiday. Every accomplishment, no matter how big or small. Chloe's always there. Celebrating and cheering them all on.

She feels her cold heart warm at the thought of her best friend and she smiles.

“If I die, I don't want you planning my funeral.” Amy breaks her train of thought. “It's going to be nationally televised. CNN. NBC. Animal Planet. I can't have this pathetic display for the world to see.”

Stacie laughs and Beca rolls her eyes. She's heard enough and heads upstairs to take a shower, ignoring the continued funeral chatter coming from her friends.

She's halfway up the stairs when she hears Cynthia Rose’s, “Hey, who died?” from the living room and jesus christ. She is never decorating again.

Shaking it off, she finishes the journey upstairs and grabs a few things for her shower. There's no time to worry about poorly executed decor, Chloe will be home soon and Beca is nowhere near ready.

-----

“Shortstack! What the hell are you doing up here?”

“Wh-?” Beca looks up from where she's lying on her bed. Amy looks like she's in disbelief and Beca feels disoriented. Confused. “What happened?”

Amy stomps over to her, gesturing wildly. “You fell asleep! The party's been going on for almost an hour!”

“Oh my god!” Beca wipes the drool from her mouth and springs up like a jack-in-the-box. “Why didn't you come and get me earlier?” Of course this would happen. She prepared all month for this night and now here she is, an hour late and completely unprepared.

“I didn't realize you weren’t there until Chloe asked where you were. You better hurry up. The funeral is in full swing.” Amy pats her on the back way too hard and leaves without another word.

“Fuck.” She flies to the closet and puts on the first pair of jeans she can get her hands on. Grabs a t-shirt and runs to the bathroom to put her makeup on in record time. The whole process doesn't take more than fifteen minutes then she's tripping down the stairs faster than her feet can carry her.

She feels awful. She was supposed to be the first one downstairs to greet Chloe. To hug the redhead and tell her happy birthday.

Not that she hasn't said it a hundred times already today. None of it was in person though. It's been phone calls and text messages and damnit. She needs to find Chloe now.

She ducks and dodges through people frantically, not paying any attention to her surroundings as she visually scans the house for her best friend's signature red hair. The lack of attention to space catches up to her and she feels herself collide with someone, almost falling to the ground.

Thankfully, two hands grab her arms and keep her upright before she can topple over.

“Becaw!” Jesse is smiling so wide that he looks psychotic. “Where’ve you been?” He lets her go and she has to take a moment to steady herself.

“Uhh…” Why does she feel so whacked out? “I uh, fell asleep.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Shut up.” She smacks him on the arm and side eyes him.

And then her eyes are on the move again.

Searching.

“What's up with you? You're being weird.” He waves his hand in front of her face and she wants to slap him.

“Nothing dude. I'm fine.” Her eyes still don't stop though.

“What are you looking for?” He pauses. Looks around too. “And who decorated? Why is everything black? Is Chloe going through some emo phase or something?” Beca can hear him rambling on but she isn't paying any attention because red hair has finally come into view and everything freezes.

Chloe looks breathtaking.

Heartstopping.

Borderline devastating.

She’s wearing Beca’s red and black flannel with a black tank top underneath. Her hair is down in loose waves and her jeans are tucked inside of her black boots. She’s laughing at something Flo is saying and Beca can’t actually hear her laugh but she knows the sound well. Loves it. Lives for it. And she can’t tear her eyes away because the sight of Chloe in her shirt, with those big blinking eyes and that unfairly white smile, is magnetic. Addictive. She feels everything inside of her shatter and she knows she’s done for. Knows she won’t survive the night.

Hell, the fact that she’s been able to keep it together for this long is miracle itself.

“You’re staring.” Somewhere along the way her jaw must have dropped open because Jesse has to use his finger to close her mouth.

She swats at his hand but doesn’t tear her eyes away from Chloe. “What?”

“You’re. Staring.” He repeats himself. A little firmer this time.

Beca finally looks over at him. Perturbed and a little off-kilter. “Dude. I’m not staring at anything.”

He gives her a look of disbelief. “I just had to close your mouth for you. I’m pretty sure you were drooling.”

She gives him a little shove. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m just saying. I’m happy to be your wingman if you need assistance.”

“Oh my god!” She shoves him harder this time. “That’s not...it isn’t…” She huffs, “Just go away!”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Don’t say I didn’t try to help!” His voice trails off as he walks away.

Beca flips him off and he uses his hands to make a heart over his chest and mouths, “I love you too,” as he disappears into the crowd once again. He can be such a pain in the ass sometimes but she’s grateful for him. Glad that even though they didn’t work out as a couple, they were able to find common ground and become such good friends. As much as it pains her to admit it, she loves him.

The sound of Chloe’s laughter breaks the thought and she snaps into action. Weaving through the crowd to get to her best friend. Chloe’s on the move too though, and Beca does her best to keep up, never letting her eyes leave the redhead. Chloe stops in the kitchen to pour a drink and just as she’s gaining ground, Ashley and Jessica appear in front of her. They start rambling on about some Bellas bullshit and holy fuck! Can she just get to Chloe already?

She tries to listen politely and loses track of Chloe somewhere along the depths of this heavily one-sided conversation. When they’re finally finished, Beca excuses herself and darts to the kitchen but Chloe is nowhere to be found.

This is utterly frustrating and she decides a drink is in order. She pushes through a few people to pour herself a glass of punch and takes a huge gulp before filling it back up to the top.

She sighs. Maybe some fresh air will help calm her nerves.

She doesn’t see anyone outside so sneaks out to the patio, avoiding any and all eye-contact so as not to get caught up speaking to anyone else. She makes it out without incident and when she turns around after shutting the door, the sight in front of her stops her in her tracks.

“Chloe.” She whispers the name like she can’t believe she’s finally found her. Like maybe it's just her imagination.

And good lord this is dramatic because they just saw each other last night. They see each other every day. She can’t help it though. She’s been on edge thinking about this moment all day and now...here it is.

Finally.

Chloe looks up from her spot on the swing and her eyes light up. Her smile widens. Her hands reach out. “Beca!”

Beca’s heart thumps against her ribcage so hard that she thinks it might burst right out. Make a huge mess. She’ll die right here on the back porch.

What is her problem?!

Get it together.

“Come here.” Chloe’s voice is soft as she speaks and her hands are still stretched out, waiting for Beca to come closer.

She finally gets her feet to move and as Chloe stands up, she drops her drink and settles right into the the redhead’s open arms. She tucks her face into the curve of Chloe’s neck and inhales. Feels herself settle down. Lets herself relax.

After some long moments, they pull back from the embrace. They stay close though. Beca grabs onto the hem of Chloe’s shirt (her shirt) and holds on tightly. Chloe smiles and rests her hands on Beca’s shoulders.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Beca closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I…” she’s finding it hard to speak, “I fell asleep earlier.” Her eyes open again and Chloe’s gaze is piercing. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Awww.” Chloe squeezes her shoulders. “That’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” Beca pulls at Chloe’s shirt, causing the redhead to sway forward and back again. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I wanted to be ready when you got home.” She can hear the whine in her voice, feel the pout on her face.

“That’s okay.” Chloe scrunches up her nose and Beca wants to die it’s so cute. “You’re here now.”

“Yeah.” She can’t seem to fill her lungs with enough oxygen to speak properly so the “happy birthday” that follows is barely a whisper.

“Thank you. For everything.” Chloe toys with the ends of Beca’s hair. “I especially love the black balloons.”

Beca groans. “Oh my god.”

“And the huge picture of my face.” She winks.

“Chloeee.” Beca tries to pull away but Chloe holds on tightly so she doesn’t get far. “You know I’m shit at decorating.” She turns her head to playfully avoid looking Chloe in the eyes.

Chloe giggles. “Stop.” She brings a hand to Beca’s cheek and forces the brunette to look at her. “I love it.” Their stare intensifies. “I love it because you did it. This is the best birthday ever. Thank you for making it so special.”

Beca shrugs and pulls Chloe closer. “Yeah...I guess I am kind of like...awesome and stuff.”

“Mhmm.” Chloe’s hands move down to her collar bones and she doesn’t know what the fuck is happening but she knows she wants it to continue. “You sure are.”

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m most awesome at?” Beca shifts her hands around to Chloe’s hips and squeezes, their bodies fully pushed up against each other now.

“No.” Chloe shakes her head and, for a moment, Beca is worried that she’s misread this situation. “I want you to show me.” Chloe’s hands fist at the front of her shirt and pull her forward, closing the small gap between them.

Beca doesn’t hesitate. She presses her lips to Chloe’s and everything spins out of control.

She doesn’t care though.

Let it spin.

Let the whole world spin right off of its axis and explode for all she cares.

She’s finally right where she wants to be.

[starrysence]

amusement park date hc’s with uhhh any ship you want i can’t choose

i already briefly did this for ralbert so i’m gonna do mike/jojo bc 1.) i love writing hcs for them and 2.) they just like? totally would go on amusement park dates y'know????warnings: ummm mike is an absolute disaster and gets himself hurt a lot so very small blood tw×××

●so y'know how showing affection publicly is a gradual thing for these two?? well the first date mike decides to bring jojo out on once he knows jo is comfortable w/ some pda is an amusement park date▪he REFUSES to tell jojo where theyre going until they get there▪kind of worried abt it bc what if jo hates amusement parks or something???? mikey here is in a lil bit of a panic▪but it goes down the drain the moment mike sees jojo’s face absolutely LIGHT UP when he sees where they are▪"we’re going on an amusement park date?!?!?!?!? ive always wanted to go on one of these dates oHmygosh!!!“▪hes SO EXCITED▪mike cant. he just? cant. he loves his bf so much●jojo is literally on the verge of BURSTING with excitement the entire time after they enter the place and mike loves it ▪he wants to go on all the craziest rides which actually kinda surprises mike??▪hes always thought of jo as the kind of person who would like simpler and slower rides▪but NOPE▪however,,, is mike opposed to this? no. absolutely not.▪"we should try and go on ALL the rollercoasters”▪"HECK YES"●mike is pretty clumsy not gonna lie▪at some point he cut his knee open on the corner of a metal table bc he tripped over a fuckin rock or something and jojo had to rush him to the car to bandage him up▪mike feels bad bc he knows jojo gets kinda queasy at the sight of blood▪but hes so impressed that jo’s being so chill handling this??? his boy is so strong. yes. look at him go▪"im really surprised you haven’t, like, fainted yet, jo"▪"don’t jinx it, i’ve gotten extremely close to passing out on you at least 6 times in the last 5 minutes"▪"youre so brave i love you"▪"i love you too. dont keep worrying me like this, you,,,,, you klutzy dork. please take care of yourself !!“▪'klutzy dork?’ thats the best insult jojo can muster?▪mike cant help but laugh and he Melts when jojo pouts at him for it▪"im sorry but? klutzy dork is the best you can do? youre so cute baby”▪then he like kisses jojo on the nose and jojo cant stay upset. boy starts smiling so wide mike is worried its hurting his cheeks●theyre LIVING for the amusement park food ▪jo gets SO HYPED when he sees that theres churros▪"can i get 3?“▪"babe theres 2 of us”▪"actually i meant 3 for me…. i wasnt sure how many you wanted though"▪"holy crap, jojo"▪hes is almost scared by the speed at which jojo eats the churros (after he offers some to mike, ofc)▪mike, on the other hand, lives for the classic Theme Park Pizza™▪not much to say here tbh▪he could eat several slices of that stuff▪jojo rlly has no place to judge▪he just finds it impressive ▪"9, huh? think thats a new record"▪"WOOOOOOOOO"●so they eat the food after going on all the rides they wanted to go on plus some, so they settle for some of the games!!!!!! jo wins mike a few prizes but mike kinda gets carried away and wins jojo a lot. so many things. they have to get a bag to hold it all its really funny, jojo is giggling the whole time and mike is so in Love▪and by the time theyre done bagging everything its getting dark out and these boys are getting tired▪so mike suggests ending their time there by going on the ferris wheel!!▪jojo is so on board yes ferris wheel w/ his bf LET’S GO▪the sun is setting around the time theyre on it and when theyre at the top jo sees mike in that lighting and???? what can i say. boy cant help himself▪he goes IN for that cheesy top-of-the-ferris-wheel kiss▪LO AND BEHOLD it IS their first kiss▪"wow wow wowow ow wow wosiw wo w weown ejdjfjfjfjjgkkds" -mike’s mind when jo kisses him▪its just???? everything you expect from these boys honestly▪soft. sweet. gentle. extremely loving and pure ▪theyre so wholesome yall my HEART●so mike is exhausted afterwards but he still thinks he should treat his lovely boyfriend to some dessert ▪mike knows theres a stewart’s at a gas station only about 15 minutes on the way to his place from the amusement park▪so they go there!!!▪jo is practically asleep in his seat so mike asks him what flavor he wants and tells him that he’ll get both orders from him▪"what?? no you dont have to do that…!!“▪mike can tell jojo is trying to be resistant but he can also tell jojo is extremely tired so he INSISTS▪jo tells mike his order and mike kisses him on the cheek before going to get their orders▪the ice cream wakes jo up for a little bit and they kinda just sit in the car talking for a lil while ●…….they dont get back home til the next day▪they went to like this REALLY GOOD amusement park several hours away and just got so exhausted at some point on the way back to mike’s place?? and caffeine Does Not work on mike. and jo’s already out cold and mike really doesnt wanna wake him▪so mike pulls up at the next service area and texts ike to let him know whats going on and then he just crashes y'know??▪they wake up the next day feeling EXTREMELY refreshed!! so they grab some breakfast from the service area and take their time eating it before continuing the drive back▪jo starts laughing bc he has like 50 missed calls and 704847385 texts from elmer and buttons (tHeY wErE rOoMmAtEs) and has to text them to tell them hes ok and hes gonna be at mike’s for a little while▪they had a Good Time

×××

wow i would honestly die for these two????? holy shit. i hope you like these!!!

-sanj 💕

tag list:

@but-let-us-seize-the-day​

@one-candy-cane-please​

@suddenly-im-respecsable​

@intoomanyfandomstopickaname​

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen​

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@bencookisagod​

@well-the-kids-do-too​

@auspicioustarantula​

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn​

@have-we-got-news-for-you​

@not-a-scab​

@newsiesgarbage​

@pineappapizza

@andthewoildwillknow​

@concrete–donuts​

@stopthe-presses​

@thomasbeingthomas

@i-love-loki-and-sherlock

@maxvanna

@spot-me50-papes

[if you want to be added to my tag list, please shoot me an ask or a message letting me know! i’d be happy to add you!]

[probablymango]

Dungeons and Arcana

Chapter 1: New Game

Lucio rubbed his face, trying hard not to glare at the others at the table with him. “Explain to me again, what is it you want to do?”

Asra smiles, setting down his glass. “We want to bring two more people into the game with us.”

“I got that. Who are they, do I know them, what are their experience, and do I need to start a new campaign?” He hated getting new players. Not that he wants to keep others from playing, but it meant having to learn them, figure out how they play characters, see what they could and couldn’t deal with, merging them into pre-existing campaigns was a bitch.

Julian raises his hand a bit. “My sister, she’s got a bit of experience from playing with me.”

Lucio nods, then looks at the other two.

“Our roommate, Muriel. You’ve probably met him before, or well, at least seen him.” Mordenkainen answered, making vaguely descriptive hand gestures. “Tall guy, beefy, wears a hoodie all the time, and has the big service dog. Ring any bells?”

It did, mostly because the guy was like a huge brick wall, but he wasn’t very social, so Lucio didn’t know him very well. “Does he have any experience?”

Asra and Mordenkainen look between each other with small looks of worry. “... We’ve tried…” “But neither of us are good dms so….” “Not really….”

“Jesus christ.” He groans, rubbing his face and pushing his glasses further up his face. “...... I’m going to have to meet them both, then we’ll see about a new campaign. Nadia!” He looked over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“What?” Nadia yells back.

“You’re going to need to make a new character!”

“Okay! What kind of campaign?”

“Not sure yet! Probably just a self inserts and fantasy!”

“Hella!”

Lucio rolls his eyes then turns back to the three in front of him. “Same time or do we need to reschedule for the others?”

“Muriel is good with us.” Asra smiles brightly, lightly jumping in his seat.

Julian thinks for a bit, then pulls his cell out of his scrubs pocket. “... I’ll have to check in with her for that, but let’s stick with the same time for now.”

Lucio nods, ideas of what to make the campaign starting to form. “Good, good, please get them in contact with me before then please. I need to meet them first, even if it’s over webcam.”

Nadia came out of the kitchen, holding a bowl of grapes and milk shake. “So we’ve got more people coming?”

“Maybe.”

��Yes.” Rang in everyone else.

She nods, thoughtfully sipping at her shake. “We’ll have to order more food then. Do any of them have allergies?”

“Portia does, but I doubt that’ll stop her from eating what’s presented.”

“Still, best to make preparations anyways. What’s she allergic to?”

“Dairy, but she doesn’t acknowledge that fact.”

“Oh.” She makes a face. “Is…. is there a non-dairy pizza? Hmm, I’ll keep an eye out for non-dairy snacks that taste good.”

Julian sighs with relief. “Thank you. I can try to get her to send a list of snacks she likes, if that’d help?”

Nadia and Julian start to discuss food, while Lucio turns to the other two. “So, I know of Muriel, but what’s he like? Asides from being a big boy.”

“Shy, not outgoing, and suffers from anxiety.” Asra says, ruffling his brown hair. “We figured that doing it with friends would be the best chance at having him play and plus you’re pretty good, so we figured you’d be best at being one of his first dms.”

Lucio sighs in defeat. “We’ll talk more about this later.” He glances at the clock, then groans. “After work, it’s time to go.” He and Asra stand up, grabbing their bags and coats. “Bye Noddy!”

“Bye Mayor!” Asra grins, sliding on his obnoxiously colored green, pink, and orange jacket.

“Not mayor yet.” She laughs, waving them farewell. “Don’t forget your arm charger!”

“Thank you!” Lucio quickly grabs it from the counter, then goes out to the car. “What do you plan on playing tonight?”

Asra buckles himself, as he makes his signature cat face. “What do you mean?”

Lucio narrowed his eyes at him as he buckled himself in and pulled out. “Do you plan on being a memey little shit with the music tonight or do you plan on doing normal bar music?”

“Oh, you know.” He grins, giving Lucio the answer he knew. The bar was going to be filled with meme songs, most of them were going to give him a headache.

“You little shit.” He groaned, already feeling the headache forming from just thinking of what he was going to hear for the hours they were working together. “Can you at least put on good meme music?”

“Excuse you, but Smash Mouth is great music.” He laughs, watching the buildings pass by.

“No, no it’s not. And please, for the love of god, don’t play What’s New Pussycat, because I swear, I will jump over the bar and strangle you for it.”

“Kinky.” He snickers, poking at his shoulder.

“It’s not a kink thing you perverted little shit!” He groans, keeping his eyes on the road as he blindly slaps at Asra.

Asra snorts, weakly batting his hand away. “What if I play, It’s Not Unusual?”

“That’s worse!” He groans, putting his hand back on the wheel. “Just… Please, take some of the patrons’ requests.”

“I’ll consider it.”

It was quiet for the next few minutes, but as Lucio finished parking, his speakers came to life with-

“DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES?”

“ASRAAAAAA!”

The culprit ran into the bar, laughing with bastardly delight. Lucio groaned, rubbing his face as he turned off the car, and grabbed his bag. He hoped today will be slow, so he could write, but since Asra took over the music selection, more people started coming in. It was good for business, but not good for his creativity. He went inside, clocked himself in, and went to his usual part of the bar, the one with the plug-in built into the counter. He plugged in his phone and arm, hoping people chose the other bartenders, but knowing he’s never that lucky.

His fear was confirmed about 10 minutes into his shift. Asra had some weird remix playing as a sickly looking older man came to the bar in front of him. Worm man, or Vlastomil, as his name tag reads, comes in regularly. The only reason Lucio even remembers this fucker is solely because he stands out; super pale, an almost leprechaun face, dark clothes, and is usually saying something about worms. He assumes the man works at the bait shop, but honestly didn't care enough to find out. “What will it be, sir?”

“Drunken worm cocktail.”

He gets out the ingredients, passion fruit vodka, peach schnapps, cointreu, coconut rum, sweet and sour, cranberry juice, and gummy worms. It looked tasty, white bottom, with red top, ice, and gummy worms resting on the top. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He sets down $15 and walks away to a darker part of the room. A weird, but alright person.

He stares at him for a bit, then picks up his phone and starts typing.  Vlastomil…. Sounds like a perfect fantasy name….  He quickly made some notes, then put away his phone as another person came over. “Hi, how can I help you?”

The man in front of him was beautiful, like almost a model. Long hair in a braid, brown that somehow beautifully turns to blond, and clothes that looked a bit more expensive than this area normally gets. Dammit, he didn’t need an instant crush on a stranger. “What kinds of wine do you have?”

“... Uh, I’ll have to check the list.” Not many people wanted straight wine, so he forgot the actual names of them. “We have…. Pinot Grigio.. Some Chardonnay… uhhh.. Pinot Noir… Rose and Cabernet Sauvignon?”

He raises an eyebrow and has a small smile. “Not used to serving?”

“Not used to serving straight wine. Which would you like?”

He stares at the bottles for a bit. “Pinot Noir.”

“You got it.” He pours him a glass and hands it to him, then watches as he awkwardly holds the glass, probably expecting a wine glass instead of the regular ass glasses they have.

“Thank you.” He continues to stay at the bar, drinking as he looked around, sipping thoughtfully at his wine. “Hmp, this is just like him too.”

He shouldn’t butt in or even mention that he heard it, but his nosiness is getting the better of him. “Who?”

He sighs, leaning back into the bar. “My ex, he used to bring this home constantly. Should have expected the bad after taste of him with it.”

“That’s rough buddy.” Did he really just say that? He’s been dming too long, now he sounds like an actual NPC!

He snorts softly, turning to smile at him. “I didn’t think bartenders actually said that.”

They don’t, I’m just too used to fantasy. “I like going beyond people’s expectations.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He turns back around, continuing to sip at his wine.

Lucio looked over at Asra, only to see him gesturing to…. Do something? He looked at his phone and, oh, he sent a text.

Snek meme bastard: is that valerius? Me: Who is that and why should I care? Snek meme bastard: cuz hes muriels cuz Me: ….. Me: Can u try that again with proper spelling? Snek meme bastard: valerius is muriels cousin Snek meme bastard: is that valerius? Me: not sure Snek meme bastard: ASK Me: NO Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: ………. Snek meme bastard: ill give you $20 bucks if you do Me: …… if he calls the cops im bringing you to jail with me

He groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose, then looks back up at the handsome man in front of him. “What’s your name?”

He looks up at him. “.... any reason you want to know?”

Shit, shit, what does he say? “Why wouldn’t I like to know the name of an attractive person at my bar?” He grins, dying on the inside. He really needs to stop hanging out with MC, they were giving him bad habits of unnecessary flirting with everyone who sticks around for more than 5 minutes.

He looks at him for a bit, then laughs. “You…” He snorts, setting down his drink. “Where.. How did you learn to talk like that?”

“I have no idea of what you mean.” Well, at least he got the stranger to laugh, hopefully that means good things and not being considered a creep. “I speak like a regular people.”

He laughs more, then tries to take a sip of his wine. “I’ll…” He snickers. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me your’s.”

“I’m Lucio of Vesuvia!” He adds a bit of lordly flair to the way he says it, deciding to commit to the weird way of talking for this man. “And you are?”

He giggles, barely able to talk at this point. “I’m- hehehe- I’m Consul Valerius, at your service!” He goes back to laughing.

His phone lights up, warning him that Asra wanted to call. Fuck that, it’s too loud for that to work out. He declines the call to see that Asra had texted him. A lot.

Snek meme bastard: is it him? Snek meme bastard: hey Snek meme bastard: lucio Snek meme bastard: lucio Snek meme bastard: is it him? Snek meme bastard: LUCIO Snek meme bastard: lucy Snek meme bastard: i said get a name not flirt Snek meme bastard: …… Snek meme bastard: bitch Snek meme bastard: dude Snek meme bastard: respond or i will rick roll the entire club Snek meme bastard: im serious Snek meme bastard: just say if he is or isnt Snek meme bastard: 3 Snek meme bastard: 2 Snek meme bastard: 1 Me: WAIT

But it was too late, the room was filling with the beginning of Never Going to Give You Up, sending almost every person in the bar into a collective flight or fight response. Some were booing Asra, others just loudly complaining, some were laughing, and even fewer actually left. Asra stared directly at Lucio, demanding a response.

Me: YES HIS NAME IS VALERIUS Me: TURN IT OFF Snek meme bastard: :3

The music was changed to.. Something else, the song wasn’t familiar, so that was good. He sighs, rubbing his face. “Sorry about that. Our DJ is a…. He’s a bastard and let’s leave it at that…”

He shrugs, finishing his glass of wine. “It’s alright, odd choices in music, but he seems alright.”

After the song, one of the other DJs took over for a bit, then Asra made, as straight as he could, for them. “Valerius?”

“Who wants to know.” His mood immediately dropped back to being serious.

“Muriel’s roommate, Asra.”

He glances at Lucio, as if to get confirmation.

“This is my bastard coworker, Asra, the memelord.” Lucio sighs, gesturing at him.

Asra grins, then starts talking to Valerius, but Lucio stopped listening so that he could make some more notes. Vesuvia and Valerius… wonderful names..

“Excuse me!” A loud person, yelled at Lucio. He looked up to see Vulgora, one of the few people you actually remembered the name of. They were constantly getting into fights and just overall loud. “Get me a beer!”

“Any specific kind?”

“A beer!”

Lucio nodded, getting the cheapest beer he could find and putting it in a glass, then handing it to them. “Here you go.” Vulgora and the bar had a deal, they could drink as much as they wanted and the bill would be put directly on their bank account. The bill on most days was too many drinks, on worst days, over hundreds of dollars for repairs. He didn’t understand why they were let back in after the first time, but at least they were paying for it.

With their drink in hand, Vulgora started chugging as they went to find someone to arm wrestle, and Lucio went back to his phone. Vulgora… that’s a rather unique name…

There was tapping on the counter, he looked up to see one of his greatest fears: Dr. Valdemar. The doctor might not have done anything specifically harmful to him, but waking up in the middle of surgery was still lucid led to….. Visual nightmares that have haunted him for over 6 years. “..... How can I help you?”

“Have you seen Dearil?”

“Uhh.. no?” Name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place who it was.

They look around, contemplating their next words. “Dark orange hair, reddish brown eyes, and is probably carrying a skull?”

No, no he has not. Well, maybe, there’s a lot of people here. He shrugs. “Can’t help you, sorry.”

They nod, setting down a bill. “Thanks anyways.” They wandered into the crowd, hopefully to never be seen again.

…. They would make a great villain. He typed some more at his phone. He was getting a lot of V names tonight.

“Um, sir?” There was a lady in front of him. “Do you serve food here?”

“The bar with food is over there.” He points to the other side.

“Thank you.” She smiles, walking away and someone said “Volta!” as she approached.

This place has a surprising amount of people with Vs in their first name… He went back to his phone, waiting on Asra to stop talking to the cute guy.

[antomec]

you’re like the summer without the overbearing heat

i can’t believe it, i’ve finally finished it. as some of you may know, the past couple of months have been very rough for me, and the last two weeks have been chaos as my hometown has been completely flooded. please please consider donating or if you can’t please reblog these posts here and here! thank you so much!

this is for you @akiko-natsuko + @writer-appreciation ! also i highly recommend listening to this on repeat.

[title taken from Oh My! by SEVENTEEN]

THERE IS ART FOR THIS FIC DRAWN BY THE LOVELY @kaatseye WHICH YOU CAN FIND HERE!!

you can also find this on AO3 and FF.net!

words: 2755

pairing: gratsu

summary: while it is technically not his first time seeing this particular figure, gray’s also got no business being this concerned over it. but he’s always been good at lying to himself, so he will absolutely not admit to himself that the reason why he’s so worked up about this particular person is the fact that he is impossibly cute. coffeeshop AU, fluff, oneshot. 

the first time gray sees him, it’s with a faint sense of recognition. and then he realises, that no, he isn’t going insane, it’s because he’s seen him around the campus. it is slightly hard to camouflage a head of bright pink hair, especially in a sea of dark colours.

so, yes, while it is technically not his first time seeing this particular figure, he’s also got no business being this concerned over it. but he’s always been good at lying to himself, so he will absolutely not admit to himself that the reason why he’s so worked up about this particular person is the fact that he is impossibly cute.

right now, gray stands in line at the campus coffee shop, a bag slung over his shoulder. it is late september, and the air is slightly chillier than usual. the segue into october and the winter months is slow but easily noticeable. however, gray is better than most people at handling the cold, so while he does notice the slight chill in the air, it’s not enough for him to lose his head.

the line moves forward.

it’s late afternoon, and a thursday, so while the coffee shop could be crowded, it isn’t, but gray supposes it’s probably because the last classes of the day aren’t quite done yet.

the line moves forward again.

gray focuses on his phone in the meantime, and he gets lost in the lives of his friends for a while, choosing to ignore the distinctive (read: cute) barista. until very quickly, he is the next customer. he looks up and the barista immediately locks eyes with him.

it’s obvious that he’s tired but his eyes still light up for some unfathomable reason (who in their right mind would be happy after working for so long? certainly not gray, that’s for sure) and he speaks up, “what can i get for you today?”

gray isn’t so mesmerised that he forgets his usual order, but instead rattles it off as usual. what he does slip up on, is his name (for some goddamn reason) but he somehow chokes it out, and because gray is a believer in fair play, he sneaks a look at the (cute, the voice at the back of his mind supplies unhelpfully. gray tells it to fuck right off) barista’s nametag. it’s clearly made of metal, but for some reason there’s a piece of paper stuck on it with clear tape, and it reads harry potter.

gray doesn’t really care for j.k. rowling, but he can definitely say that the barista in front of him is most definitely not named harry potter.

and it seems that he forgot that he was only supposed to be glancing, because he’s fully staring, and the barista calls him out on it. “it was a bet and i lost,” he clarifies and gray immediately wonders if the pink hair is part of the bet as well, and his eyes must have either strayed to his head, or the boy is very good at gauging expressions, because the barista follows it up with, “the hair is a personal choice. the fact that it pisses off a lot of the professors here is just a plus.”

gray snorts – he can’t help himself.

“you can take a seat,” the barista adds. “i’ll call you in five minutes, tops.”

gray nods, and walks off to the closest armchair he sees. he loses himself in the lives of his friends again on his phone again. and this time when the barista calls his name, he is prepared, and collects his drink as quickly as possible.

it’s the last day of september, and gray wants something sugary, something that’s sure to give him a sugar rush. it’s been a couple of days since he’s gone to the campus coffee shop, and try as he might, he can’t quite get the peculiar barista out of his mind. so he decides to indulge himself.

this time, he’s determined to find out the boy’s name.

however, it’s a bright-eyed, chipper girl who takes his order instead, and gray feels – disappointed, his mind says, but gray shoves the thought down as far as he can – like he’s failed in his small personal quest. but after he pays and finds a seat, the voice that calls his name is the familiar deep voice of that particular barista.

“did you miss me?” the barista asks with a sly grin.

he’s right, but gray doesn’t spend too much time thinking on it. instead, his first act of business is figuring out his barista’s name. his eyes stray to the nametag, and he’s more than confused when it just says arthur dent.

“uhhhh,” gray begins, eloquently. “did you lose another bet?”

the barista grins and shakes his head, pink hair falling into his eyes rather adorably. he blows on it, and answers, “it’s a...personal choice.”

for a second, gray feels shocked. is he actually flirting, or has gray.exe stopped working?

he decides to take the plunge. “you already know my name, so i feel like it’s only fair that i know yours too,” he says, smoothly.

“and where’s the fun in that?” the barista answers, winking at him.

sirens go off in gray’s head. mayday, mayday, houston? houston, are you there?

“uhhh, yeah, sure,” gray stumbles through his words. “sure,” he repeats, for added measure.

the barista merely grins at him, and hands him his drink. without further ado, gray promptly whirls on his feet and starts walking.

john watson. that’s what his nametag reads today, and it prompts gray to ask, "why not sherlock?"

the barista's wearing a short sleeved shirt underneath his apron today, and it has him slightly in awe because the boy has tattoos running up and down his right arm. not as many as that it would look like a sleeve but enough to look pretty. from this angle, all he can see are small moons and suns and stars and something with a tail curling around his elbow. “john is underappreciated,” is all he offers, and gray leaves, even more confused.

gray makes it a habit to stop by after his classes for the day is done, and some days he’ll see the barista – “i’m your favourite barista, right?” he asks gray one day, and gray answers, “sure, why not?” – and some days he won’t, and eventually they talk of their classes, and schedules, and gray is pleasantly surprised to know that his new friend is an environmental sciences major.

it’s a new name every time he comes in, and gray is only slightly disappointed that he has yet to know the cute (he’ll admit it this time) barista’s name. he and gray are similar in height and build, with the only glaring difference being their hair.

one day, his nametag reads lisbeth salander, and when gray looks up in confusion, the barista shrugs and says, pointing to his blonde co-worker, “lucy told me to do it.” lucy looks at them, unimpressed.

another time, it’s primrose everdeen, and all the barista says, “she deserved better.” gray nods in agreement.

the next day, it says frodo baggins, and gray asks him who he was supposed to be. however, he gets an affronted look, and the barista softly utters, “are you telling me you don’t know who frodo is?”

gray shakes his head. the barista sighs, and adds, “i had more faith in you.”

“you cannot spend the whole of your second year cooped up inside this room,” cana says. she’s his oldest friend, and while they aren’t roommates, she spends most of her time in gray’s room. gray wonders if it’s because she knows he doesn’t exactly like spending time outside.

“you know i didn’t exactly have the best grades in first year,” gray puts his pen down and closes his laptop. he swivels on his chair and turns to face cana, who’s currently lying face down on his bed. “i gotta work hard to make up for it, cana.”

“that doesn’t mean you have to waste away inside this stuffy room,” cana says, gesturing wildly around the room. “let loose once in a while, what’s the harm?”

“last time you said that, i had to carry you back on foot, all the way from the other side of campus. i’m pretty sure i threw out my back that day.”

“nonsense! so it happened once, what are the odds of it happening again?”

“considering it’s you we’re talking – highly likely.” gray gets up from his chair and starts to push cana off the couch. “now if you want me to go out with you to this very awful party, i would suggest you leave me alone so i can finish my workload.”

cana tumbles over, and gets up smoothly as though it hadn’t happened. she walks backward to the door, saluting gray as she passes him. “yes sir, mr. gray!”

“cana, watch out, you’ll cra-”

cana crashes into the wall, and gray looks on in exasperation.

“do i really have to?”

“don’t you dare back out now, you coward.”

gray groans, and lets cana pull him out of his apartment. the breeze is cool enough to fully wake him up, and the rabid manner in which cana keeps jostling him makes him want to pull his hair in frustration. “you know, i am not above whining to get my way,” he informs her.

“and i’m not above dragging you by your hair. keep moving, hotshot.”

all too soon, they’re knocking at the door of the party. gray sees a blonde girl jump out of a window, with a blue-haired girl hot on her trails. belatedly, he realises that the blonde is lucy from the coffee shop.

“this is gray,” cana suddenly speaks, startling him. “he’s my friend. don’t bite him,” she adds, winking at the man by the door.

“sure,” the man drawls. “i’ll try my best.”

gray looks on, eyes wide. he glances questioningly at cana, as if to ask what the fuck cana, and cana merely smiles toothily at him. he wonders, not for the first time that night, whether cana is already drunk.

she probably is.

they make their way inside, and the smell of sweat and cheap beer and perfume is strong even to make him gag, but thankfully, cana pulls him into the kitchen and pushes a solo cup (cliche, but gray isn’t going to mention it) into his hands, and gray says, “fuck it,” and tries to down the whole cup in one go. he tries but he chokes halfway, and cana whoops from beside him.

he somehow sputters through his drink, and when he looks around, he sees cana already chatting with people she knows. he feels like an abandoned koala, waiting for something to emerge so that he can attach himself to it.

maybe the alcohol is kicking in already.

gray is definitely tipsy when he catches sight of pink hair. and since he’s tipsy, he thinks it’s just his imagination. and it isn’t proved wrong until the pink hair actually bobs up to him. he puts out a hand to catch it, because it looks so soft and bubblegum-like that he must absolutely know if it feels the same. and it does. it feels super-soft.

he still thinks its his imagination, because who in the fuck would have actual pink hair?

he pulls on the hair, and he’s startled when there’s a face suddenly in his personal bubble. the face is cute, boyish even. “gray, please let go of my hair,” the boy pleads. gray reluctantly lets go, pouting.

“oh wow, you are super drunk, aren’t you?” the boy asks.

gray doesn’t answer, just stumbles a bit, and shoots him a look, as if to ask, does this answer your question?

the boy laughs, and holds gray’s wrist as he pulls him into the kitchen again. the boy looks familiar, and gray can’t shake the feeling that he’s seen him before.

the boy pushes a glass (a glass!) into his hands, full of clear liquid, saying, “drink, you’ll feel better.”

gray narrows his eyes – or at least, he tries to. he has absolutely no clue if it’s working – and asks, “are you trying to get me drunk?”

the boy laughs loudly, and grins at him brightly. “oh trust me,” he says, “you’re plenty drunk as it is. it’s just water, now drink up.”

gray frowns, and decides to trust him. and just like before, he chokes halfway.

unlike cana though, his new friend yelps and starts frantically rubbing his back all the while squealing, “are you okay? you should have gone slower! it’s not a shot, for fuck’s sake!”

gray giggles, and waves his around in an attempt to calm him down. “im…fine!”

the boy looks at him with wide eyes, and gray pinches his cheeks. his eyes grow impossibly wider.

“alright, who did you come with,” he asks, gently pulling gray’s hands off his face. “let me go find them.”

“cana,” gray chokes out, and promptly starts to gag. his new friend grabs him by the shoulder, seemingly knowing what was coming, and shoves him toward the kitchen sink. gray throws up in a matter of minutes.

cana’s face comes into view, along with her cackling. he’s sure the cackling is directed towards him. and unfortunately, it’s the last thing he experiences before he passes out.

cana is the one who tells him exactly what he was upto the night before, and she does it exactly two minutes after he’s just woken up. he mouth still feels stale, and cana nearly loses her shit recalling his misadventures. who would have known, she says, that you were actually a party animal underneath all that?

gray escapes the instant cana has her back turned, and hurries quickly into his room. he brushes his teeth and slips on a comfy sweater and his sneakers before he rushes out of his room.

“you’re lucky you had natsu with y-”

“natsu?”

“yeah, nats– holy shit don’t tell me you forgot about him! tall, pink hair, tattoos? i’m actually low-key disappointed in you right now.”

“his name’s natsu? that’s...cool.”

cana looks at him with an unamused stare.”you know what? i don’t even wanna know.” she turns around to the sink and starts rinsing her cup. “you do you, my dumbass friend. you do you.”

gray slams the door open to the coffee shop. lucky for him, there’s absolutely no one in there. not even natsu.

a small blonde head suddenly pops out from under the counter and waves cheerily at him. gray weakly waves back and slowly exits the coffee shop. and promptly walks into someone.

books clatter to the ground, and gray drops to the ground immediately, muttering apologies as he hurriedly picks up each book. “i’m so sorry, i wasn’t paying attent-”

he’s interrupted by a tan hand coming into his view. he knows that hand. it has little constellations over the wrists. there’s no way he’s ever going to forget those.

“hi,” natsu says. “how’s your hangover?”

gray shakes his head. “i don’t really get hangovers.”

natsu chuckles. “cana must be really envious of you, then,” he answers, and it causes gray to groan loudly. “i know, she never shuts up about it!”

they stand up straight, and gray blurts out, “it’s natsu, right?”

the pink-haired boy laughs. “natsu dragneel, at your service,” he says, and does a little bow. “i was going to be gandalf today anyway,” he adds. his arm goes up above his head and he scratches his neck rather adorably. “so, uh,” he begins. “what would you say to getting coffee? i mean you’re already here, and i need to go in – i mean,you don’t have to, but i would love to keep talking to you, which is why–”

“sure,” gray interrupts, deciding to save natsu from further embarrassment. “i’d love that, actually.”

he beams at gray, and gray feels himself returning it, when a loud bang catches them both off-guard. “natsu! come help me already!” lucy’s head appears in the doorway, and disappears as quickly as it had appeared.

they look at each other, and gray walks forward into the shop, still carrying natsu’s books. natsu follows him, and leaves to go into the back of the shop. he comes back out quickly, wrapping a dark brown apron around himself. “the usual?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“the usual,” gray confirms, and smiles softly.

[bellarkefanfiction]

suddenly i see (this is what i wanna be)

*click through to read on ao3

written by: Mel | @mellamymake

prompt: "You stepped on my glasses and now I'm pretty much blinded and you have to accompany me everywhere till I can get my new glasses" for anonymous 

word count: 5178

"I can't believe you've managed to hide this for so long."

"To be fair, I wasn't hiding," Bellamy points out, a touch of colour rising in his cheeks. "I just don't like to wear them when I'm out. That's not hiding."

Or, the one where Clarke moves in with Bellamy and is shocked to discover that he wears glasses.

In Clarke's honest defence, she wasn't even aware that Bellamy wore glasses.

"What about beach week two years ago?" she demands, staring at the black frames balanced across his nose. "Did you have glasses then?"

He adjusts them with two fingers, peering at her through the lenses. "I think it's pretty safe to say I've had them ever since I got them, Clarke. Which is, oh, about fifteen years ago."

"But did you wear them?" she persists, her frown deepening. "I'm really sure I would have remembered you wearing them."

He pauses then, his brow furrowing. "Well. I always wear them at the end of the day. Like, right before going to bed. So..."

"So only in your room, then." At his nonchalant shrug, she throws her hands up into the air, huffing exasperatedly. "I can't believe you've managed to hide this for so long."

"To be fair, I wasn't hiding," he points out, a touch of colour rising in his cheeks. "I just don't like to wear them when I'm out. That's not hiding."

"You've been wearing contacts all these years," she mutters, shaking her head. "Those are contacts I've been looking at, all these years."

"It's not like I've been wearing a wig or something," he points out, looking vaguely offended. He pauses, looking at her. "Although, if you happen to come across a face mask made of something that looks a little like human skin—"

"Fuck you," she says easily, stretching her leg across the couch to kick lightly at his knee. Of all the jokes they've cracked between them over the last couple of weeks about moving in together to save on rent, this one definitely ranks near the bottom. "Okay, so why are you wearing the glasses now? Are you going to bed at—" she spares a quick glance at the clock in the corner of the news channel they're watching, "—eight forty-nine P.M.?"

He shifts, the flush returning to his cheeks. "Cute. And no, I'm not going to bed at eight forty-nine P.M. I ran out of contacts."

She raises a brow. "You what?"

He shrugs. "I ran out. I gotta get some more."

She stares at him, forehead crinkled with disbelief. "You've been successfully hiding behind your contacts for the last fifteen years, and all of a sudden you just… ran out?"

"Okay, again, I wasn't hiding," he says, pointing at her. "And, well, sometimes shit happens." At her questioning frown, he gives her another shrug. "Shit like, I don't know, when you accidentally throw out the contacts that were supposed to last you the rest of the year before you get a chance to pick up a new pair."

"You what?!"

He rolls his eyes, but the hue of his skin still looks distinctly redder than it usually does, even under the warmth of their living room lights. "I'll put in an order for new contacts tomorrow. Anyway, it's no big deal. They're just glasses."

Except it is kind of a big deal, for some inexplicable reason she can't quite put her finger on. Something the way those black frames sit squarely across his face just makes her stare, the angle of his jawline and the soft arch of his dark brows all suddenly ramped up to an eleven. Even his lips look fuller than usual, plumper and ever so slightly redder than she can remember them being.

It's like he's wearing the glasses, but she's the one seeing several times clearer all of a sudden.

"Yeah, okay," she mutters as nonchalantly as she can, settling back into the couch to pretend she's watching the news, instead of watching her roommate out of the corner of her eye.

She's just not accustomed to seeing him in glasses. That's all. It’s brand new information; she’s allowed an adjustment period.

Once she gets used to it, everything will go right back to normal.

“Coffee’s on the table,” is the first thing she hears when she flies into the kitchen, bag hanging off her arm and shirt still only half-buttoned.

She blows out a harried sigh of relief before flinging her bag into the table to free up her hands, one going straight for the steaming mug of coffee waiting for her, the other swiping up the piece of toast sitting beside it, already slathered with butter. "Have I told you you're my favourite roommate yet?" she says, trying to get in a sip of coffee through a mouthful of toast.

"Not lately, no," Bellamy says idly, squinting at her iPad as he flicks through Netflix. "You’ve got about twelve minutes to get to your meeting, by the way. Checked out traffic while you were in the shower — you're gonna wanna avoid 5th today."

"Fuck," she announces, not bothering to cover her toast-filled mouth. As quickly as she can without spilling everything down her front, she demolishes the rest of her toast within three bites and gulps down half her coffee.

"See you later!" she says, grabbing her bag off the table and dashing out of the kitchen.

"Shoes," he calls from the kitchen.

"I didn't forget," she calls back petulantly, even as she wheels around from the door to grab a pair of flats, stuffing her feet into them and whirling back to wrench the door open.

"Keys!" is all he says in response.

She does an abrupt double take, holding the door open with one foot as she twists round to snatch her keys off the side table. “Bye!” she yells, before slamming the door shut behind her.

--

meetings finally over! think i just booked 2 jobs :D

u eaten yet? want me to

pick up lunch omw home?

???

hello?????

[voice note from Bellamy]

uhhh all i hear is u sayin 'fuck. Fuck, shit' over

and over.. is that supposed to happen

why are u using voice notes that’s so weird

[1 image from Bellamy]

???????

i ask u if u want lunch and all i get is a

screenshot of oppenheimer's wiki page??

Om sajht def

ok u know what im just gonna

get ur usual from the diner

home in 20

--

Clarke kicks the apartment door shut with her foot, working her shoes off with her toes. "Okay, the diner was all out of chicken, so I got you beef instead," she calls, padding into the kitchen to set the large bag of food on the table. "You don't mind, do you?"

She sniggers to herself as she heads over to the tap for a drink of water, catching movement at the kitchen threshold as she turns. "Well, I don't actually care if you mind because beef is what you're getting." She swallows her first hasty gulp of cool water, swiping her hand across her mouth as she turns back around, glass in hand. "Hey, what was with the weird—"

She breaks off, taking in the way Bellamy's standing in the doorway, face all scrunched up as he blinks against the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen. "What's going on with your face?"

His expression turns wry. "My face? Nothing. My eyes are a whole different story, though."

She frowns, taking two steps forward. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

He pauses, blinking hard. "Well. Actually, nothing. It's, uh— it's my glasses."

At first she's completely lost, brows furrowed in confusion. But then Bellamy extends a hand, his thick black frames sitting neatly in the flat of his large palm, and—

"Holy shit," she says, both brows shooting up high. "What did you do to it?"

One of the lenses is slightly cracked, a hairline fracture running along the side of it. The other one is practically shattered.

"I didn't do anything," Bellamy says dryly, stepping forward carefully. "Your bag, on the other hand..."

"My what? What are you—" All of a sudden, the memory of the way she'd all but slammed her bag onto the kitchen table earlier flashes up in her mind, including the stark realisation that she had been in far too much of a rush to bother checking that the coast was clear. "Oh. Oh, fuck. Did I do that? Shit, I'm sorry!"

Bellamy waves a dismissive hand, and she really shouldn't want to laugh, but the way he's focusing on her chin instead of her eyes is oddly endearing. "No, it's okay. About time I got a new pair, anyway."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you weren't planning to smash up this pair before you got a new one." She watches as he reaches for the bag holding their lunch, fumbling slightly with pulling out the containers. "That explains the weird replies to my texts."

He pauses, looking up at her (well, sort of). "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was trying to tell you that I can't see, but I don't know how successful those attempts were."

"You sent me a voice note. Along with what I think is the last photo saved in your camera roll," she informs him with a dry smile, fetching another glass of water for him.

He grimaces, sliding one of the containers across the table to her. "Fuck. How incriminating was it?"

"It was a screenshot of Oppenheimer's wiki page," she says, switching the containers so they're getting the right meals. "Very racy stuff."

"Juicy," he agrees, stabbing a plastic knife into his side salad.

She tries to smother the snigger that bubbles up, but it's a half-hearted attempt at best. "Fork's on your left," she offers helpfully, popping the plastic top off her own container.

"Don't laugh," he grumps good-naturedly, waving his knife at her. "I'm blind."

--

For the most part, Bellamy doesn't seem all that bothered by his temporary handicap.

All the same, Clarke feels too responsible for his predicament to just leave him be. She spends the rest of the afternoon reading his texts and emails to him, and narrating her way through their Netflix queue when he wants to change shows (he can't quite see what's going on, but his sense of hearing is sharp as ever. Plus, he can almost sort of make out what's going on when he squints at the TV, especially once she turns the screen brightness up).

At five o'clock, she drives them both to the mall so he can order a new set of glasses, taking his arm in hers so he doesn't walk into a pillar or a glass door.

Upon reaching the optical store, she halts in her tracks, groaning in dismay. "They're closed."

Bellamy stops obediently when she does, turning slightly towards her with her arm still looped around his. "I thought it looked a little dark, but then again, I figured I'm probably not the best judge of that right now. Does it say if they're open tomorrow?"

She peers at the notice on the glass front, shaking her head ruefully. "Nope, closed on Sundays. Can you call your order in, or email or something?"

He cocks his head thoughtfully. "I can try. But I'd still have to come in to show my prescription."

"Shit," she groans, squeezing at his bicep. "Fuck, I really am sorry."

His other hand comes up to cover hers. "It's okay, princess. It was an accident. You don't have to keep apologising for it."

She starts them towards the Dairy Queen kiosk that's just around the corner. "I feel like I have to. If I didn't totally crush your glasses, you wouldn't have walked right into the bathroom doorframe earlier."

"True," he agrees easily. She jabs her elbow into his ribs, and he laughs, tightening his arm against his side so that she's pressed even closer, her mobility limited. "It's fine, Clarke. Seriously. Plus, I've never had an escort before. S'kinda cool."

"For you," she pretends to grouch, digging into her bag with her free hand. "All right, come on. DQ Blizzards on me."

--

"This is new," Miller observes when they arrive at the bar three hours later, arm in arm.

"This is a necessary precaution," Clarke corrects wryly, guiding Bellamy into one side of the booth with a hand on his arm and one on his back before sliding in after him. "We've got some news, guys. Bellamy's blind."

Jasper practically spews beer nut fragments all over the table. "Bellamy's blind?!"

"I'm not blind," Bellamy says loudly, as a tidal chorus of what's and Oh my God's start surging up around the table. "I'm not— Jasper, I'm not blind! I just don't have any contacts in right now. Or glasses. Or any sort of seeing aides that, uh, you know. Aid me with seeing."

Raven frowns, raising an arched brow at him. "You wear glasses?"

Clarke throws out an exasperated hand at her, turning towards Bellamy. "Thank you! See how well you've hidden this little factoid?"

"Okay, again," Bellamy says, blinking hazily at her forehead, "not hiding."

"Wait," Monty interrupts, face pinched with confusion. "I don't get it. What happened to your glasses?"

Bellamy heaves a melodramatic sigh. "They put up a valiant fight, but ultimately, even they couldn't stand up to the weight of having Clarke for a roommate."

"It was an accident," Clarke says with a roll of her eyes, grinning despite herself. "There was a thing with my bag. Anyway, the point is that Bellamy's blind now."

"Not blind," he argues lightly. "Just very, very myopic."

Clarke ignores him, deliberately elbowing him aside as she leans forward. "So if you've ever wanted to make a rude face or gesture at him," she continues, "now would be the time, people."

Raven and Miller instantly both hold up two completely different hand signs, each one just as vulgar.

"I don't know what that is," Bellamy says warningly, pointing vaguely in their direction, "but I can tell exactly who it is that's doing that."

Jasper somehow produces a Sharpie out of thin air, already breathless with excitement. "When do we get to draw on his face?"

"He's blind, Jasper," Monty reminds helpfully. "Not passed out."

"I'm not—"

"You're not blind!" Miller finishes mockingly. "As for 'passed out', well. The night has only just begun, my friend."

"You're not passing out," Clarke tells him once Miller and Monty head off to the bar to fetch the first round of drinks. She turns in the booth to face him, leaning in so he can hear over the buzz of the bar and the sound of Jasper and Raven fighting over the last of the beer nuts across the table. "I can make sure you don't walk into lampposts. I cannot carry you home all by myself."

Bellamy grins, and just for a moment or two, they're close enough that he can focus in on her eyes properly, their gazes firmly locking on each other. "What a good escort."

She rolls her eyes, punching him lightly in the shoulder. There's practically no force to it at all, so she just ends up pressing her knuckles into his arm, their faces mere inches apart. "Yeah, well," she manages to say, "don't get used to it."

She hopes that the way her throat goes dry at the end isn't audible in her voice.

Bellamy merely smirks, his mouth curving in that crooked way that used to piss her off like nothing else back when they'd first met. "Wouldn't dream of it, princess."

--

The thing is, someone does get used to it.

Funnily enough, that someone is her.

For some reason, it feels far too natural to be this close to Bellamy, looping her arm in his every time they're on the move, leading him over to the bar, or the pool table (to trash talk Miller from the sidelines), or the darts corner (so he can squint at the board and pretend like his vision's 'not that bad, I think I can make out the general bull's-eye area' and then proceed to punch three tiny holes into the wall before hastily giving up).

When his friend Harper from work stops by the booth to say hi, it feels far too natural to get up with Bellamy and walk together over to the table where three more of their co-workers are situated, her arm staying loosely interlocked with his even as they come to a stop. (There's a slight snafu when he introduces her to his colleagues. One of the group — Murphy, she thinks it was — raises his brows before saying "Oh, so you're Clarke." She's about to ask exactly what he means, but then Harper interrupts to ask Bellamy something about a meeting on Monday, and the statement just kind of gets buried under the ensuing conversation.)

She even feels disappointed by the couple of times she's not able to walk with him to the bathroom, watching Miller and then Jasper guide him off with a faint but distinct throb of envy.

She's never enjoyed the walk home as much as she does later that night, one hand neatly tucked into the crook of his elbow, the other wrapped lightly around his forearm in what's practically an embrace.

It's just to be safe, of course. They've both had a few beers. They're not unsteady by any means, but she doesn't see any harm maintaining a little closer contact than usual, especially with his shortsightedness exacerbated by the darkness of night.

He's familiar enough with their apartment that he can handle a shower without supervision (not that she was expecting otherwise), but she can't resist checking in on him one last time before going to bed.

He's already under the covers, but he props himself up on his elbows, smiling tiredly at her. "Thanks for looking out for me today." A soft snort. "Literally."

"Funny," she deadpans, smiling back despite herself. "Goodnight, Bellamy."

"'Night, princess."

--

Clearly, being (almost) blind isn't enough to convince Bellamy to stay within the comfortable confines of home, because by lunchtime they're heading towards their favourite taco stand that's two streets over from their apartment, arm in arm once again.

"I mean, it's Sunday," Clarke pretends to grumble, pushing slightly into his side to avoid an oncoming passerby, a large German shepherd loping before him on a leash. "That should be more than enough reason to, you know. Stay home."

Bellamy steps slightly to his right and away from the dog-walker, pressing his arm in against his body to pull her even closer. "Exactly, it's Sunday.A.K.A., the best day for tacos." He shrugs, not bothering to relax his arms outward even after the dog and his owner are well behind them, keeping them pressed flush against each other from shoulder to elbow. "It's just science, okay? Why are you trying to argue with science?"

She snorts. "Science, right. More like your greedy gut." Twisting her arm slightly in his grip, she pokes her index finger at his middle through the soft cotton shirt he's wearing.

He laughs, releasing her arm completely to grab at her hand with his. "No, it's science. Trust me, I'm a teacher. I would know."

"You're a history teacher, " she says in disbelief, letting her fingers curl around his.

"Who's friends with science teachers," he says, slowly and clearly as if for her benefit. "Hence."

She shakes her head, shifting a little closer as they let their still-joined hands drop down to their sides. "Ridiculous."

Well. It's a nice change from having her arm half-raised like that, she supposes. Probably better for her blood circulation, or something.

--

He eventually caves into her nagging and calls in sick to work on Monday.

"Even though this really doesn't count as a sickness," he grouches for the twelfth time, getting up to pour himself more coffee.

She's already in front of him, grabbing the empty mug out of his hands as she pushes at his shoulder in a silent command to sit back down. "Yeah, because not being able to see definitely doesn't affect your job. Not like you need that to write on the board, or grade homework. Or, you know.Teach."

"All right, all right," he says as she sets his refilled mug in front of him. "Point taken."

Later that afternoon, they're at the mall putting in an order for Bellamy's new glasses when they run into Monty.

"What are you doing here!" Clarke says, surprised. "You're not at work today?"

For some reason, Monty seems a little… off. Fidgety, almost.

"Had a late lunch meeting with a client," he says. After a beat, he lifts his thumb, jabbing it over his shoulder in the direction of the food court. "We just… had lunch."

Bellamy seems completely unperturbed by the way Monty's shoulders are rigid, the shorter man practically bouncing his weight from one foot to the other. (Then again, his nonchalance probably has a lot to do with the fact that he can't actually see Monty.) "Oh, okay. Good meeting?"

"Yeah. Yeah, good." Monty seems downright on edge at this point, his gaze constantly shifting between them. "I should go!" he finally blurts out after an awkward pause. "See you guys!"

"What was that about?" she wonders aloud, tugging on Bellamy's hand to get him to start walking again.

He shifts his grip slightly so that their fingers are more comfortably entwined with each other's. "What was what about?"

"Monty. He was all… weird."

"Maybe he's just late getting back to the office or something."

"Yeah, maybe," Clarke says as she leads them into the optical store. "Okay, where's your prescription?"

--

On Tuesday, Bellamy goes back to work, but only after Clarke makes him promise he's not going to try to write or read anything.

"You heard the optician," she lectures on the drive to his workplace. "No straining your eyes. You're only going to make them worse."

"Yes, I know," he says dryly. "Might have slipped your mind, but I've been going to eye doctors for slightly longer than you have, princess." He pats his messenger bag, balanced securely on his lap. "Besides, I've got a good six or seven documentaries in here to keep all my students occupied for the day. Don't worry about it."

"Easier said than done," she mutters, but she can't help smiling when he laughs at that.

She arrives to pick him up at exactly ten minutes past two, undoing her seatbelt and dashing out of the car when she spots him and Murphy emerge from the front doors.

She shoves down on the surge of protective concern, swallowing down the barrage of worried questions already on the tip of her tongue. "No visible bruises, I see," she says instead, taking his arm in hers.

Murphy rocks lazily on his heels. "Wait till you get his shirt off tonight."

"He's kidding," Bellamy says, mistaking her arrested flinch for distress. "I only hit, like, one thing today. It was the trash can. And I only sort of hit it. With my foot."

"So you… kicked a trash can," she supplies dryly. "Well done."

"Yeah," Murphy intones. "Usually, it's a kid."

They drive straight to the mall to pick up his glasses and a small box of disposable contact lenses, for him to use while he's waiting on his regular soft contacts to arrive.

"Does anyone ever work here," she grumbles when they arrive at the optical store to find the lights off and a sign taped to the door, with the words 'Back in five!' scrawled across in thick blue marker.

He shrugs, tugging on her hand as if to stretch out the rigid set of her shoulders. "That's okay. We can go grab lunch first."

They end up choosing a small Thai restaurant that serves up a mean green curry, splitting a small dish of mango sticky rice for dessert. They linger for far longer than is really necessary, sharing an extra glass of iced sweet milk tea between them as they enjoy the easy conversation and the relative emptiness of the restaurant, given the awkward post-lunch, pre-dinner timing of their meal.

"This is it," he says when they're back in the store, waiting on the optician to fetch his order from the back room. "As soon as those glasses get on my face, this prince turns back into a frog."

"Joke's on you," she deadpans, elbowing him lightly. "You've been a frog all along."

He laughs, his hand tightening reflexively on hers. "Harsh, princess."

It's really not that big a deal, or any notable size of a deal at all, but she finds herself holding her breath when the glasses come out of their shiny new case. There's an extra minute or so where the optician gives them a last polish, prattling on and on about all the lens fit and the design of the frame, but then finally, he's handing them over to Bellamy, and—

"Whoa." Bellamy blinks, the dark brown of his eyes looking even glossier through the clear lenses. "Let there be light." He spreads both hands slightly, his inky black curls curling against the top of the thick frames. "Well? What do you think?"

There's a lump in her throat, and she has no idea how it got there. She swallows hard.

"Oh, yeah," she says, a little weakly. "Definitely still a frog."

They walk back to the car like they always do; separately, hands at their sides.

--

The next three days are oddly uncomfortable.

Everything goes right back to normal. She holes up in her home office to work on her projects, Bellamy goes to school, they have dinner on the couch every night, with a bubbly sitcom or a quirky dramedy playing on the TV.

Even though nothing's really changed, she can't help feeling like everything's been knocked slightly out of alignment. Like the lines and shapes and colours that make up the world around her suddenly aren't quite as clear or bright as they used to be.

"What?" Bellamy says when he notices her staring one night. He lifts a hand, touching his fingertips to his thick black frames. "Look that bad?"

He'd originally planned to wear the disposable ones for the rest of the week, but on the first day wearing them, he'd popped them out within the hour, complaining that they just don't fit like his usual pair.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Nowhere near as pretty as your other pair," she says with a grin. They're both fully aware that these new frames are more or less identical to his old ones.

He shakes his head, mouth curved with a wide smile. "Well, you can quit worrying about it. My contacts should get here tomorrow." He taps at his glasses. "Say bye to these."

She's struck by the sudden realisation that she doesn't want to do that. She likes the glasses. She likes how much softer they make his structured cheeks and jaw look, how much fluffier his hair seems to grow, how much more relaxed his entire body seems to become.

"We're having dinner with Raven and Miller tomorrow," she says instead. "Don't forget."

--

Dinner is a loud affair, even with Jasper and Monty passing so they can attend a mutual friend's housewarming party.

Clarke's not sure what it is exactly about the night that makes it so enjoyable, but something about Raven's sharp snark and Miller's lazy sarcasm just seems to turn everything about twelve shades funnier than usual. The little Mexican bistro Miller's chosen for dinner is relaxed and comfortable, with great food and even better drinks, and for the first time in three days, she feels herself loosening up, smiling easier and laughing harder than she has in a while.

She drinks slightly more sangria than she'd originally planned to, but the light giddiness that seeps into her system is definitely borne of genuine joy rather than any hint of drunkenness.

"Raven's funny," she says as she and Bellamy start on the walk back home. "Miller's funny, too. We should hang out with them more often."

He chuckles, his head tilting sideways as he looks over at her. "We hang out with them all the time."

"No, I mean, like, just them," she insists, grinning helplessly. "Without Jonty and Masper."

He squints at her, expression teasing. "You drunk, Clarke?"

She laughs, shaking her head. She really isn't. It just feels like an invisible weight's been lifted from her shoulders. It feels good. "No. Just… happy."

He nods, seeming to consider her answer more seriously than she'd expected. "Good. That's good, princess."

Now she's the one cocking her head, squinting at him. "Are you happy?"

He laughs, but there's an unfamiliar edge to the sound that rings distinctly bittersweet to her ears. "With you? Always."

On sheer impulse, she reaches out, slipping her hand into his. "Good."

It's only when his hand curls around hers, big and warm, that she really, properly gets what it is that she's doing. It's all fine and dandy to hold her roommate's hand for the purpose of guiding him about while his vision's impaired, but—

"Oh." Forcing herself to loosen her grip, she works up a tense laugh. "Sorry. Force of habit, I guess."

Never mind that it's been three whole days since she'd last held his hand. Never mind that they'd really only spent three days before that even holding hands at all, which is nowhere near long enough to form a legitimate habit.

Bellamy blinks, making no moves to let her hand slip from his. "No, it's— it's okay. I mean, I don't mind."

It's fucking embarrassing to admit, but her breath hitches in her throat — actually hitches. Like she's a character in a cheesy romance novel. "Oh. Okay. As long as you're sure."

She's expecting some sort of wry crack, or maybe a dry, deadpanned reassurance that 'I've survived Jasper and Monty's homemade moonshine, princess. Holding hands with you is hardly going to kill me'.

The last thing she's expecting is for Bellamy come to an abrupt stop, tug firmly on her hand to turn her towards him, bring his free hand up to cup her face and kiss her.

She's kissing him right back before she can even quite grasp what's happening, her free hand twisting into his shirt, the other shifting slightly in his to pull him even closer.

After a long, glorious minute, he pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. She can't quite tell that fiery warmth blazing between the point of their contact is coming from his skin or hers.

"I'm sure, Clarke," he says, smiling against her lips. "I'm absolutely, completely sure."

--

"See, I told you I was sure!" Monty cries when they walk into the bar the next day, one of his fingers pointed right at their joined hands.

"Holy shit," Jasper says, eyes wide. "Are you guys for real dating now?!"

Clarke pauses, frowning slightly. "Well, we weren't— this is new, it didn't happen till—" She sighs, giving up as the entire table predictably erupts into cheers. "Yeah, okay," she says, grinning at Bellamy. "We are, all right?"

"Told you love was blind," Miller says, sloshing his beer dangerously when Jasper shoves him in excitement.

Bellamy groans. "For the last time, I'm not blind!"