#she got through the first couple of chapters of volume one

[clamorybus]

babysat my niece all day and it went really well! we spent most of it on the trampoline, just shooting the shit

[chibinasuu]

On the Same Page | Robin x Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: You and Robin chat about your current read in the Sunny’s library on a cozy, snowy day Word count: 1.5k  Tags: one-shot, pure fluff, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, main pairing could be interpreted as platonic or romantic, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind

The shelves of the Thousand Sunny’s library were filled with everything from cartography books and maps to medical journals, cookbooks, and even sheet music. 

You could also find Jinbe’s collection of classical epics, Zoro’s single volume of Famed Swords Encyclopedia that he only ever opened once, and various blueprints of wacky inventions belonging to Franky and Usopp. Your captain was the only one to not have anything stored in the library, to no one’s surprise.

Also to no one’s surprise, most of the books in the room belonged to Robin. The archeologist had volumes upon volumes of history books, texts in ancient languages no one speaks anymore, and yellowing scrolls from long-gone civilizations. But that was not all that the 30-year-old read.

Among the shelves of the Thousand Sunny’s library, you could also find works of fiction. Robin’s favorites were horrors, mystery, and thrillers, but there was also a fair share of romance novels, children’s fairy tales, and other miscellaneous publications – anything that she could get her hands on every time the Sunny docked at a new port. 

You now stood at the library, gazing at your own growing collection. You recalled when this part of the shelf was completely empty – the very abrupt departure from your home island while being pursued by dozens of marines didn’t exactly leave much room for packing before you boarded the Sunny as the newest member of the Straw Hat Pirates.

You had initially mourned the piles of books you left behind, which you had carefully curated over many years, but you were filled with a renewed spirit when Robin showed you the Sunny’s modest, but cozy library. In the short time that she had known you back then, the perceptive woman had noticed your love for reading and went out of her way to rearrange some of her own books to create an empty space in the library's shelves for you. She had also given you a gift – a copy of a classic forbidden romance about a marine who fell in love with a pirate – which she had acquired during her explorations on your home island before things went awry. When she handed the book to you, she had gently smiled and said, “To mark the start of a new chapter in your life.” 

You smiled fondly at the memory, lightly brushing your fingertips over the spine of that very book, before taking out the hefty volume next to it. This one was the latest installment in Robin’s favorite murder mystery saga. Two bookmarks were currently sandwiched between the pages, a few chapters apart. You picked a spot on the bench by one of the library’s huge windows and curled up with the blanket that you brought with you. Your fingers found the first bookmark and flipped the book open to the page where you left off. 

It was lightly snowing outside, but the central heating system that Franky developed for the Sunny kept you warm and cozy as you got lost within the pages. 

You had gotten through a couple of chapters when the creak of the wooden ladder that connected the library to the bathroom above it caught your attention. Robin’s slender legs carefully stepped down on each rung, before finally landing on the floor. Her long dark hair was still slightly damp from her bath, and she absentmindedly combed her fingers through it as she greeted you. 

“How are you getting on with the book?” She asked.

“Oh, I’m actually just about to catch up to you!” You replied, showing her that you were just a few pages ahead of her purple bookmark. 

“Perfect.” She smiled, “Let me grab us some hot drinks from the kitchen while you finish the rest of those pages.” 

You and Robin had gotten into the habit of reading the same book together. The fact that only one copy of each book was available onboard made it tricky at first, but you made it work. You read in the afternoons, while Robin preferred reading at night before bed. Once every few days, you discussed what you had read over cups of tea, while sharing some snacks, or simply while enjoying the breeze on the Sunny’s deck. It was like a secret little book club with only the two of you as its members, and it had become something you looked forward to the most during long sailings between islands. 

When you reached the page Robin last read, you put your own bookmark on top of hers and closed the book, waiting for her to come back. You looked out the window at the falling snow, which was getting heavier by the minute. The Grand Line weather surely is unpredictable, you thought to yourself – it had been scorching hot only a couple of days ago. 

The door to the library cracked open, letting in a rush of cold air from the deck. You shivered at the sudden drop in temperature and huddled further into your blanket. Robin stepped in with a thick blanket of her own draped around her body, her arms in an X formation in front of her chest. A bunch of arms had formed some sort of umbrella above her head, shielding her from the snow during the short outdoor walk from the kitchen to the library. Meanwhile, a tray carrying two covered mugs had also sprouted legs and was walking alongside her. 

You chuckled at the sight, no longer shocked at Robin’s uncanny devil fruit abilities, but still mesmerized nonetheless. The legs hurried to carry the tray to your side, and as soon as you took hold of it, all of Robin’s extra limbs vanished in a flurry of pink petals. You carefully set the tray on the bench as Robin made her way to you. 

“The snow doesn’t look like it will stop anytime soon.” Robin remarked as she sat beside you, “Nami said it might get a bit stronger, but most likely will not develop into a blizzard. We should be in for a fairly quiet night.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I never sleep well during storms.” You said while gently sweeping your hand against Robin’s blanket-covered shoulders to get rid of the specks of snow that had snuck through despite the cover of her “umbrella”.

Robin took one of the mugs, while you reached for the other. A cloud of steam escaped as you took off the mug’s lid to find a rich, chocolate drink inside. You smiled at the heart-shaped marshmallows swimming in the hot cocoa, which were surely courtesy of the Straw Hats’ flirty cook. You and Robin let out similar sighs of contentment as the warm liquid ran down your throats, paired perfectly with the sweet marshmallows melting on your tongues. 

A few sips later, you tapped the cover of the whodunit novel that the two of you were halfway through, and commented, “I don’t believe the maid killed the baron.” 

Robin let out a chuckle, “Me too, I think she's being framed. She doesn't seem like someone capable of cold-blooded murder.”

She took another sip of her drink before continuing, “Now, the doctor, on the other hand – she could easily inject some poison into the baron’s veins when administering his daily shots.” 

Your eyes widened at her keen observation, “I think you’re onto something here. I can’t believe I missed that!”

Ideas were thrown back and forth as the two of you dissected the events in the story so far. You and Robin went on and on, eagerly exchanging opinions, not only about the plot but also about the major themes of the book, the prose, the characters, and whatever else came to mind. 

Sure, you have always loved reading, but it turned out that books became infinitely more exciting when you had someone to share them with. 

A sudden gust of wind and snow rattled the door and the windows of the library, making you jump and interrupting your deep conversation with Robin. 

“Ah, Nami did say the weather would get worse.” Robin mused, “Shall we move to the kitchen before the snow gets even heavier? It’s almost dinnertime anyhow.”

You voiced your agreement and took the tray, arranging the two empty mugs on top of it. Robin grabbed your blanket and wrapped it gently around you, before covering her own body with hers. You both paused in front of the door, mentally preparing for the coldness that would soon invade the room. 

“Ready?” Robin asked you with a soft smile.

You nodded and reached for the doorknob. As you stepped outside, Robin took a stance with her arms crossed in front of her, limbs upon limbs once again forming an umbrella, this time big enough to cover the both of you. You leaned into her, chasing her body heat as you braved the freezing weather. 

The waves of laughter that came out of you and Robin could barely be heard above the wind, as you rushed side by side toward the warmth and safety of the kitchen.

a/n: one thing about me, i love reading up on oda's sbs as they give lots of hilarious and random insights into the one piece world and its characters. not sure if you noticed, but i also love including little bits of information from sbs in my fics! the tidbit for this one (from sbs vol. 46) is that luffy is the only straw hat without any books in the sunny's library! (shocking, i know)

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

[vesperane]

dirty little secret

cw: age gap. leon is 21 and reader is in her late 30s. sooo. yeah. potential cheating? probably. awkward flirting. no beta reading. idek what to add ;(

a lil note: controversial topic but listening to artemas’ song i couldn’t help but think of re2 leon and the reader in her late thirties who is an aspiring milf... so yes... here it is the first chapter of the series and idek how many chapters it will take me to finish this bc lately im just feeling intense disorientation?? anywayz i just want some angst and some yearning and it’s all about rookie leon with his questionable mommy kink & his sad big blue eyes.

chapter 1

“Leon, ventilate your stinking room!" 

The morning routine begins with a refreshing shower and Leon’s combing his hair when the voice of Giselle, the biweekly working housekeeper, jars him out of his thoughts. He huffs and puffs since the song he was humming got halved halfway through. 

“Jesus, man. It’s not like I’m running away,” he rants to himself. He dumps his comb on his bedside drawer, barely finding a gap between the volumes of books. Careless and haphazard.

The morning breeze caresses his face when he reaches for his window and cranes it open; the zephyr brings a sweet repose after his long slumber. 

The fresh aroma of autumn rain wafts through the city. It rained non-stop last night while he slept soundly all night. The best time of the year—Leon’s absolute favorite season—had come barging through the door. Lovely morning. Gives him a certain contentment. 

Leon’s eyes, lit by the pale blue and cerulean purity as he surveys the block, fix on the move-in truck. It had been rumored for a few days that there would be other residents moving into the neighborhood. His curiosity about this new family was naturally piqued, considering he hadn’t personally heard much about the new family moving in next door. But all he could see were men working, packing things into the lift, and a few weary groups of old and some young faces. 

Maybe he should go down and help them. Sounds like a good idea. 

He didn’t have much to do on the weekend anyway. Except that the rumbling, fluttery growl of his stomach thwarts his plan of introducing himself. Breakfast time. Shouldn’t be too much trouble to grab a bite to eat right now, and head downstairs, he thinks to himself as he flaps the window shut. 

In the kitchen, he helps Giselle with breakfast, pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, and there’s an empty seat at the table. Somebody is out of the usual, all-too-cloying family picture. His dad is the missing part. 

It doesn’t take long. Leon knows his dad has already gone out, probably to the station. 

“Wasn’t dad on patrol yesterday?" 

“Yeah, kid, but he didn’t show up yesterday. Tried ringing him, sure, but Mr. Kennedy didn’t pick up the phone.” Giselle ruffles Leon’s hair as she always does before she settles the breakfast plate in front of him. 

With a gruff retort, Leon smooths back the hair that has fallen in front of his eyes. God, he hates when they fuck up his perfectly washed hair.

Now don’t get him wrong, Leon sees Giselle as the granny he never had—she’s a part of the Kennedies and a sweet aunty who knows some good cookie recipes, but this kind of cuddly gesture is starting to grate on him now that he’s all grown up. It’s been like this for the last couple of years, since he hit puberty, so to speak. 

“Why are you talking to me like I'm a 12-year-old kid?” It’s hard to comprehend, really. Leon isn’t a 12-year-old kid anymore—he’s a goddamned adult, and he thinks he should be treated like one. 

“Because your hair is always soft, my sweet boy.”

“Whatever.” He waves it off abruptly, but his cheeks do flush. 

“The folk moving in the next door got a boy just like you. Oh, how adorable. Unlike you, he thanked me when I brought some cookies and didn’t pout at me like you always do." Giselle grouses to herself as she walks over to the sink, to the dishes. Typical and ungrateful grandma. 

“Giselle, have you ever heard of the term first impression? The guy probably did that so he’d paint himself as a good neighbor. Jeez!” Leon bites into his morsel of food with a know-it-all lecture. So dramatic, as per usual.

“That still makes him a better boy than you, Leon. Have I ever told you before that you’re growing more like your father as you get older?" 

“Oh, come on. Don’t play the granny card with me now,” Leon says facetiously, but inwardly he knows Giselle’s making a valid point. It’s as if it’s Leon’s instinctive nature to emulate his father, even if he doesn’t want to, not necessarily anyway. But the motivation to be a cop just like his dad is pressing, driving. Knowing that the world he lives in is laden with acidic and poisonous clouds in lieu of rosy skies, Leon never lost his dreamy streak; he was welcomed into a warm home by this very cop when he was a little boy, before he even knew his own name. 

Little by little, Leon treads a path he has decided to take so that every person in trouble, not least kids without a mother or a father, can emerge with that feeling of penchant. Sure, it makes him uneasy; sometimes it’s hard to walk, but it’s always better than nothing. For many more Leon’s to save, to protect. Call it Pollyannaism, call it overly optimizing, even a White Savior complex—Leon wouldn’t mind. He has a solid goal, and that’s it. 

The pandemonium he encounters when he comes downstairs after breakfast is more chaotic than he expected.

“Jesus, a hell of a mess,” he maffles, sotto voce. 

Leon paves the way towards a burly man carrying a vast television set, its screen packed securely in bubble wrap. His eyes, searching for the owners of the apartment, fell on you for the first time—a woman he had never seen before—when he was watching this blight from his window this morning. 

With your back straight to him and a notepad in your hand, you’re recounting something to another staff member. Pencil skirt, button-up shirt ensemble. Ohh, professionalism is talking now.

You must be the daughter of the proprietor of the house or something, in Leon’s opinion. Maybe he should introduce himself before jumping into the conversation. 

Without further ado, he approaches you from behind and calmly pays a detached ear to your conversation with the second worker, who listens to your every word with a perpetual tartness on his face, as if he’s constantly sucking on an acerbically godawful lemon. 

“As I said, the leather on the canapés is authentic, very very prone to ripping. All I ask for is your undivided attention, sir.” 

“Of course, ma’am,” the worker sheepishly gives partiality to the subject, and, relieved that at least your belongings are safe, you look over at the... boy who stands next to you. His powder blue, beaming eyes are the first thing you notice. 

“Hey,” he begins, confidently, to say the least. A sweet attempt. Who could this be? 

“Do I know you?” 

“Oh, yeah— I meannn...” He opens his mouth, and with your proverbial raised eyebrow and probing gaze, Leon simply freezes. He should have known from the start that he was about to engage in a conversation with a hard-ass girl. 

He clears his throat. Awkward tension is killing the both of you, but you do a better job of hiding your emoticons than he does.

“As a matter of fact, yeah. Say hello to the boy next door. I’m Leon Kennedy.” Undeterred, precocious Leon still does what he has in mind: cracking a more sophomoric joke with a raised hand for a handshake. 

“Oh!” You draw on. No need to get rude now. 

His eyes twinkle and agleam. And you give your name to the boy you consider to be the next-door neighbor’s son, shaking his hand cordially. Piece of cake, baby; he knows your name now. 

“It’s been an exhausting day, Leon. Please forgive me if I started with a rude attitude.” You release his hand and then smack your forehead with the hand holding the notebook. Leon thinks it’s very amiable—the moue on your face and the way you switch off the bitching mode almost immediately. 

“No problem, no problem.” Leon raises his hands, palms open and facing outwards. 

“Man, where are your parents? Are they running off with all the work on you?” 

Your parents? Parents?

Aww, that boy’s got it all so wrong. Normally, if you weren’t so knackered, you would have burst out laughing. Anyway, keep it as a memory that you will remember later and laugh your head off. 

“My parents are on vacation in California, Leon." 

“What?” His jaw slacks open. “That’s cruel, damn.” He shakes his head in negativity, as though he has heard the world’s most insipid news. 

“Sure, of course, dear. Only, I must tell you, as the woman of the house, I can take care of a small house relocation.” You cross your arms beneath your chest, tucking them close. 

A pause.

Okay, did you really call him dear and, oh, so randomly? And why are you talking like you’re a character out of those grievous novels?

He’s tense. You’re making Leon reconsider everything he’s done and endured as the numskull he believes himself to be.

The what? The lady of the house? What’s a what? 

You’re married?

...

You’re married.

And most importantly, was Leon mindlessly flirting with a married woman? A chick, actually, just look at you! That, however, isn’t the point. 

His pupils are pinpoint; his blues are narrow and indigo spheres. The poor boy is in a state of sheer perplexity. 

“Holy shit!” His reaction doesn’t last long to be blurted out of his plump lips; it’s visceral, and the picture is unbelievably ridiculous to follow. 

“You’ve got to be kidding. You barely look in your twenties. Ahem! Well, you look great, ma’am.” He mumbles again and again; he’s rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Where is his initial and boyish verve now? 

Alas, you let him compose himself. Let the poor boy take a breath, right? 

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” you interrupt, so that the boy who’s fiddling uneasily with the fabric of his jacket sleeve will feel a little better. You don’t want to look like a scary and heartless witch in his eyes, anyway. 

“Heh,” he snorts, but futilely. It’s not a pleasant feeling—the guilt wracking fumes swelling deep inside his belly and clenching his muscles in a huge balloon that will eventually implode and burst. 

“Anyway,” he says resolutely; there’s no need to drag it out any further. Let this little talk be a funny, unforgettable, and endearing first impression for both of you. 

“There seems to be a lot of stuff here. Thought I’d drop by to help you out with those,” Leon smiles, all warm and sincere. Playing the role of a wonderful and helpful neighbor, a hero, is his favorite sport. 

“I never turn down a kind helping hand.” 

And you’re up for it. 

With your hands on your hips, you take a cursory glance around and tip your head at the rows of plants in large pots on the floor. 

“I’d be truly grateful if you could help me take these up to the living room. I’ll need them watered, those poor, poor lovelies.” Your eyes fall on his blues again, and it feels gratifying to capture that sheen of sparkle in them. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He... salutes you.

Alright... Boy with a goody-goody attitude. 

You don’t have to tell him twice. Carefully and effortlessly, Leon lifts two heavy pots (show off!), almost child-sized, and you follow him into the elevator with the tiny cactus succulents in your hands. 

part 2?

[empressuxu]

Dear Soulmate

╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮Chapter 1 ╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Next

It was late in the hideout. It was quiet, not a single sound could be heard. Everyone was asleep, all piled up in the living room. Another movie night has come and gone. The movie ended with nothing but a black screen on display. Nothing but static can be heard from the speakers. The white noise that entices the turtles into a deeper sleep. 

Soon, a soft melody could be heard from the speaker. It was quiet at first, but the volume started to play louder. The melody caused the four turtles to awaken from their slumber. 

"Does anyone else hear music?" Mikey asked, rubbing his eyes, trying to take the sleepiness away. 

"It appears to be coming from the speaker." Donnie walked behind the speaker and pulled the plug. "that should solve it" 

He returned to his bean bag, ready to go back to sleep. The melody is still playing. "Anyone else still got that beat in their head?" 

Before anyone could respond, a voice could be heard. 

"This next song is for my soulmate. So, don't turn the station if you can't hear a thing. You know the drill."

Do you live in New York City? Or a couple towns away? Wherever you are, I'd jump in my car Just to see you today

Will I meet you at a party? Sit next to you on a plane? Maybe I already know you and love you But will fall in love someday

"Are you sure you unplugged the speak, my dear twin?" Leo asked, walking closer to the unplugged speaker. He froze, seeing the speak was indeed unplugged. "Guys, it unplugged, and it's still playing!"

The brothers started to panic. Raph sprung into action and picked up the speaker. He slammed it to the ground, hoping it would stop the music, but sadly, the music continued to play.  The brothers gathered around the speaker, wondering what was happening. 

The music stopped, and the same soft-spoken girl spoke again, "Well, listeners, if you could hear the last song, look at your hands. If you are my soulmate, give it a little pull and let me know if you're real." 

The brothers looked at their hands and saw the red string tied to their fingers. Thinking it couldn't be real, they pulled it. 

A soft cry was heard through the speaker. "I knew you were real." 

Crying is all the brothers can hear. It lasted for a minute before the sound of paper being shuffled around. She spoke again, but this time in a happier mood. "Soulmate, I hope we can meet soon. I wish I could go with you tonight, but sadly, I must move on with the show. That being said, to all the healing hearts, please enjoy the next song."

Raph looked at the red sting in his hand. He just couldn't understand what was happening. One minute, he was asleep, and the next, he had a soulmate. A soulmate that his brothers share. "So what are we gonna do about this?" 

"I guess we can follow the string to the end and see where it leads." Leo pulled on the string once again, still not believing it was real. 

Donnie clapped his hand to get the attention of his brothers. "We could, but we have no idea when the string will end. What if it leads out of New York?!" 

"It doesn't hurt to try. Maybe she's in New York like at the beginning of the song said." Mikey exclaimed. He was excited to meet this person. Wondering what type of person she was. Did she like art? Or pizza?  Oh, the questions he wanted to ask her. 

"I guess she could be in New York." Donnie thought about the possibility that she could be near. Perhaps that's why she chose the song. Maybe she hoped her soulmate was close to her. It doesn't hurt to check. He thought that in the worst-case scenario, the string doesn't end and goes past the city limit, and that's it. No more looking. But that made his heart hurt. He doesn't want to think he would never meet her. If they were soulmates, then they were meant to be together. 

"Well, Let's get this show on the road." Leo grabbed onto Mikey and Raph. "We have a soulmate to look for."

~Small Time Skip~

"Well, my lovely listeners, we have come to the end of tonight's show. I'm off to find my soulmate, so wish me luck. Love you always, y/n." The h/c girl pressed the end live button with a heavy sigh. 

She got up and sat on her bed. Her head was full of thoughts of her finally finding her soulmate. She had just moved to New York. This would be the 7th city she moved to in hopes of finding her soulmate, and to think she would find them is scary. 

What if they see me and don't like me? The young girl thought maybe they were already in love with someone else. Would that make her the other woman? Or would he tell her to leave him be? She looked at her hand, seeing the sting on her pinky finger. It glowed a bright red, a reminder of her soulmate. 

A knock on her window brought her out of her thoughts. 

"Hello?" She said, slightly sacred since it was still dark out. She moved closer to the window as quietly and slowly as she could, but suddenly, the red string shrunk, pulling her to the window.  

Right as she was gonna hit the window, it flung open. Her eyes closed, waiting for the impact of the railing of the emergency exist outside of her window. But it never came. 

She opened her eyes to green arms holding on her. Her e/c eyes darted up to see a turtle in a red mask. But not just one but four, each with a different color mask tied around their eyes.

Y/n couldn't believe her eyes. I must be dreaming, she thought. The shocked girl gave herself a pinch on her arm, and it hurt. "I guess I'm not dreaming. "

Raph pulled Y/n up. "Are you ok?" 

"As fine as I can be." She looked around, trying to get her bearing as well as taking in the appearance of each turtle. They're taller than me. The girl thought, feeling a bit self-conscious about her height now. She began to play with the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, trying to calm her nerves. "So why are you here?"

Mikey came closer to the girl. He smiled and raised his hand to show the red string on his smallest finger. "Well, our speaker picked up your broadcast, and we heard the song you played. Then these strings appeared on our hands, so we followed them here." 

He grabbed your hands with his and smiled. "So, soulmate, do you like pizza?" 

"I do," She spoke softly, still trying to catch up on what was going on. "Wait, so all of you hear the song, and all of you have a string on your finger?" 

The brothers nodded. 

Y/n pulled her hands out of Mikey's grasp, making him pout. She leaned on the window frame, trying to make sense of this whole mess. She had never heard of someone having multiple soulmates. It would make sense why she could never stick to one hobby. Or why, no matter anyone she dated, they never made her feel whole. Her soul wasn't looking for her other half it was looking for her missing pieces. 

While the girl processed her thoughts, she didn't notice the brother's faces growing paler with every second. Did she not like them? Was this a mistake? Their minds begin to wonder. 

Their thought was interrupted by the small girl clapping her hands. 

"Did you want to come in?" She asked as she climbed back into her room, holding back her pink curtains. She smiled at them shyly. "Are you coming, soulmates? Don't make me ask a third time."

They nodded their heads and rushed inside. 

Y/n giggled at their eagerness. No amount of words can describe how she feels right now. Just seeing them here in her room made her so happy that she wanted to smother them in kisses. But it's too early for that, she thought, she didn't want to scare them away. Then again, if they were her soulmates, they wouldn't be scared so easily, would they? Now that she thinks about it, she doesn't even know their names, nor do they know hers. 

"So my name is Y/n L/n." 

"I'm Mikey, but my full name is Michelangelo. But it's kind of long, so Mikey or Honey Bunches or whatever you want to call me is cool with me."

"This big guy here is Raphael, but we call him Raph." Mikey patted his brother's shoulder "You could call him your teddy bear since he is one." 

Mikey and Raph looked at their other brother, waiting for them to introduce themselves. 

Donnie coughs before speaking. Trying to muster all the bad boy persona he can. "I'm Othello Von Ryan." 

"Now, you do not want to start this relationship with a lie, my dear brother Donatello. " Leo cried playfully "You can this guy Donnie if you want." 

Leo dropped down to one knee and grabbed her hand. "I'm Leonardo or Leo. But you, my sweet, can call me yours."

Y/n blushed so hard that she swore her head was gonna pop off. The now red-faced girl pulled her hand away from Leo. She backed away from him and quickly covered her face with her hoodie, not wanting to show them how quickly her face turned red from that simple pickup line. Sadly, it was too late the blue-masked turtle took notice and grinned. 

"So, did you want to tell our future kids how we met, or should I tell them." He walked closer to her. 

Y/n didn't think her face could get more red, but it did. " K-kids, but we just met. Why would you even be thinking about that right now?" 

Leo grabbed her hand, that hand her red string, and he held it close to his chest. He gave her his most charming smile "What can I say I can feel a string pulling us close. Can't help but think of our future."

His brothers, seeing the girl's face get redder, decide it was best to help her.

"Leo, I think she had enough." Raph picked his brother up

"Yeah, I don't think it's safe for her to get that red. Can't she pass out?""  Mikey asked worryingly 

"Well, people don't pass out because of their face turning red from embarrassment it's more because of other factors like if her blood pressure drops low enough. Or she could start hyperventilating and get shortness of breath. Then she could pass out." 

"And thank you, Donnie, for that info dump." 

"Not a problem, Nardo."

Y/n could feel her face starting to cool down. She took a deep breath, trying to ease her heart. She would have never thought that one of her soulmates would be this flirty, but she can't. No one could ever make her heart race as much as he could just now. 

"Um, so what happens now?" She asked, looking at the brothers. 

No one spoke. 

Her heart began to race again, scared once more that they were now thinking about the thought of her and not like her. She played with her sleeves, trying not to reach in and pick at her old scars on her arms. She's been rejected before but never by four different beings at once, much less four who are supposed to be her soulmates.

Mikey takes a few steps to the distressed girl. "Are you not weirded out by us being mutants?" 

She looked at him in confusion. Did they not understand that her radio show? It's not a normal show. "Why would I be?" She scratched the back of her head. "I mean, you guys do understand that I'm not normal, right? I mean, I know I'm not a mutant or a yokai, but you have to get that normal people can't do what my radio show does, right?"

"Wait, so do you know about the Hidden City, too?" Donnie questioned 

"Well, yeah, I mean, I was born there, after all." Y/n walked over to her bookshelf. She pulled a red and pink book from her shelf. "Here, I have some photos that my mom saved feel free to look." 

Donnie took the scrapbook from her hands. His brother gathered around the book. 

She watched as they looked at her childhood photos. She would have loved to explain to them her childhood, but she can't talk about it without crying now. Her youth was wonderful, but now that she knows why it was so great, it leaves a sour taste in her mouth. 

"So you're not bothered at all by us being turtles?" Mikey asked

"Not at all." Y/n pulled some hair from her face. "Are you bothered with me being human?"

"I think I speak for all of us, but no, not at all." 

"Well, Leo, what happens now? You all have a sting that leads to me, and I have a single string that slits four ways. What do you want?" She pulled on her string. "I'd rather cut ties now if you don't want this to be a thing."

Leo looked at his brothers, who looked at their strings. He looked at his own, pulling on it slightly, and still couldn't believe this was real. None of them had any huge successes with love. How can they when the only girl they know is like a sister to them? 

"We could try," Raph spoke softly. "I mean, we won't know if this could work if we don't try, right?"

"You're right all we can do is try and hope for the best." Y/n grabbed her phone off her bed. "So, I guess I could get your numbers so we can talk more?" 

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—05. Monte Carlo Ave. —word count: 9.3k —warnings: obvious implications of sex, no smut. club activities, so much fluff you'd wish you were dead. angst in the middle. love, mackie... so, just like chapter 4, there is a nsfw cut of this chapter whose link is embedded in the post. all nsfw warnings will be on that post. thank you for bearing with me while I took my sweet ass time writing this next part--there is no exaggerating how busy my life has become in the past couple months.

He wakes up at five-thirty-seven in the morning, exactly twenty-three minutes before his alarm is set to go off. Charles can’t remember the last time he was awake before his alarm, or the last time his alarm at home was set to go off before the sun rose. 

It was fear that woke him up—fear of waking her up. 

Her. Chris. His girlfriend, who is sound asleep next to him, in his bed, in his apartment, in his city. 

She’s a cute sleeper, he knew—he knew, because she’d fallen asleep on FaceTime calls half a dozen times, because he’d watched her for a nearly creepily amount of time in Abu Dhabi, when he couldn’t believe she was actually there. She’s a cute sleeper, and yet, the shine hasn’t worn off yet, because he still watches. 

She’d gone to bed in a hoodie from work and no pants, because, of course she had. Of course she had. She’s got one hand awkwardly craned under her pillow and another wrapped up in the comforter like it’s a finger trap, and her hair is messy, so messy and half-stuck to her cheek. It’s fucking adorable, and he feels so lucky. 

He gets nervous then, nervous that she’s going to wake up and he’s going to be staring and it’s going to be weird, so. Instead of continuing to ogle, he reaches for his phone from the nightstand, turns the volume all the way down and scrolls through social media pretending not to steal a glance every time she takes a deep breath or moves a muscle. 

It’s half an hour before she yawns awake, and he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to wake her up, after all. 

“Morning,” he says, clicks the power button on his phone and lets it fall face down on his chest. 

Chris smiles. “Morning,” she breathes, and leans over to kiss him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, pushes his index finger against her lips. “What happened to morning breath?” He asks. 

“Nope,” she speaks against his finger, threatens to bite it. He knows he wouldn’t stop her, but moves his finger anyway to kiss her properly, to let her smile out of it. “You’re stuck with me now, boyfriend and all that.”

“Gross,” he smiles. “I love it.”

She flops back against the mattress with a laugh, “What time is it?” she asks, leaning over to reach for her own phone. 

“Six,” he hums. She scowls at her lock screen. “We have plans at seven.”

“Oh?” She peruses, sits up to stretch properly, to yawn again and ruffle her hair and God, she is so beautiful. He might never get over it. 

“Padel…” he smiles, wonders if he’s about to get in trouble, to start their first fight as a couple at six in the morning on a Tuesday. He probably should have run this past her, he thinks, run all of it past her. He’d just gotten so caught up in the planning of it all. “...with my brothers.”

Her hands flop from her hair onto the comforter, landing with a soft thud on the padded fabric. When she looks at him, she’s still smiling, but her eyes are tired, confused. “Baby, what is padel?”

– – –

They cook breakfast together—well, Charles cooks breakfast. Chris spends the entire time leaning against the kitchen counter cradling her phone, watching a YouTube video on the basis of padel playing. Charles keeps leaning over her shoulder, plastic spatula in hand, and correcting the man in the video. That’s not what you do, he hums. They don’t know what they’re talking about. 

After the fifth comment in as many minutes, she turns to him with a chill-inducing glare. “I’m going to padel you upside the head,” she says, with a smile on her face—which only makes it that much more terrifying. He nods, steps back from her shoulder and returns to the crepes he’s butchering on the stovetop. 

– – –

“I have to know,” she asks, sat on the floor in the bedroom, in the limited space at the end of the bed, tying her shoes. “What was the plan if I didn’t pack workout clothes?”

“Eh,” he mutters, rifling through the hangers of sweatshirts hanging in his closet. “I would have put on you some of my clothes,” he continues, pulls his two best options down from the hangers and holds them up for her. One, a blue Ferrari crewneck. The other, gray, from his friend’s line. 

“You would have put me in your clothes,” she corrects his English, and if it was anyone else he’d find it insufferable. But he doesn’t, not with her, so he chuckles and his smile grows and he can feel his dimples. For the dramatics, though, he rolls his eyes. 

“Which one?” He asks, taking turns raising the two sweatshirts. 

“As tempting as the team kit is,” she laughs, and he tosses the gray one to her. He could have guessed the gray one, he thinks, but she’s surprised him more than once before. “Thank you,” she hums, pulling it over her head and carefully fixing the wisps of hair that fall from her ponytail when she does it. 

“Always,” he nods, holds a hand out to pull her to her feet.

– – –

Arthur and Lorenzo are already at the court when Chris and Charles arrive, attempting—and failing—to play a round of singles padel on the doubles court Charles had reserved for the morning.

Just as they approach, a shot ricochets off of Arthur’s racquet and flies past Lorenzo, colliding with the glass wall behind him with a thud. Lorenzo jogs after the ball, laughing, pointing at his brother in a sore act of celebration. 

Arthur is just as sore a loser. “Ah!” He calls out, gesturing with his own racquet to the tape that runs along the top of the net. “Filet!” Net!

Lorenzo blows air from his cheeks and scoffs, firmly bouncing the ball against the ground a few times before picking it up properly. “S'il te plaît!” Please!

“Mon pote, allez,” Mate, come on, Arthur groans. “Ça tremble encore!” It’s still shaking!

“Arthur, j'étais à trois mètres,” I was three meters away. 

Charles grins, pulls open the door to the court, holding it open for Chris to step in front of him. “Retiens ton feu,” hold your fire, he calls out to his brothers, “trouve ton anglais,” find your English.

Both boys' heads shoot over, scowls still apparent. “Do you see this? Do you see him run into this net?” Arthur shouts, still gesturing wildly with his racquet. 

“Do not let him convince you, you know what you saw,” Lorenzo interjects, carries on even though the game has been abandoned and they instead jog over to greet Chris and Charles. Lorenzo is first over, kissing either of Charles’ cheeks. “You saw this?” He asks, and Charles laughs, nods. 

“I did.”

“Bullshit,” he laughs, shoves Charles’ shoulder and turns to greet Chris. “You?”

Charles expects to find some apprehension on Chris’ face, something that shows she’s not sure of her place yet, but he doesn’t find any. Confidently, she speaks, “He’s crazy, you weren’t even close,” and then kisses each cheek. 

Lorenzo tosses his arm around Chris with a laugh. “Charles,” he speaks, points to her with the same hand that’s thrown over her shoulder. “My team.”

Charles chuckles. “I try not to make a habit of telling my girlfriend what to do.” Chris blushes at the very mention of it—girlfriend. If he knew it would be that easy to make her blush he would’ve asked weeks ago. He might’ve asked in Austin, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 

“Oh-ho?” Arthur’s already teasing, clapping his hands on Charles’ shoulders and laughing like a madman. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Neither of them—Chris or Charles, say anything. Between the flush of her cheeks and the depth of his dimples, they might as well have it spray painted on their foreheads. “Right,” Lorenzo offers, “well, Chris, as the only person around here with some sense, you’re on my team.”

“You can have her,” Charles teases, Lorenzo quirks a brow. “She has no idea how to play, but also she is a rule master.”

“Abandoning your own girlfriend,” Chris interjects, the same teasing tone laced in her voice. She pretends to shiver, grand and dramatic, even though it’s eighteen degrees and sunny and she’s got long pants and a sweatshirt—his sweatshirt on. “It’s cold, man.”

He rolls his eyes, sticks a racquet in her hand and moves to kiss her, which is more than close enough to Lorenzo for him to abandon his position next to Chris, retreating to the safety of the court, bouncing the padel ball as he walks. “Ready to take us?” Charles asks quietly, just to her. Arthur is somewhere in the space behind him gulping a water bottle in an almost comical manner. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies, half-chuckled, demeanor light and bouncy. There’s something about her that always seems full of energy, ready to take on whatever is put in front of her head-on.

“Don’t worry,” he practically whispers, winks and gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Chris clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, feigns offense and scoffs loudly, bringing the head of the racquet up to the center of his chest, pushing him back a few steps. “Don’t you dare.”

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, offering—practically promising—to let someone else win. There’s still a basket somewhere in a storage closet full of broken video game controllers from his childhood. And once, for three entire weeks when they were six and nine, he and Arthur weren’t allowed at the dinner table together because they would race to finish their food and promptly get sick. Then again, it is Chris, all bouncy ponytail and quick wit in his home in his clothes, so. Maybe it isn’t as far-fetched as it seems. 

As expected, it becomes apparent quickly that Chris is a beginner at a game the boys have spent years playing. She misses shots and struggles to find her footing and the best positioning, but it doesn’t crush her mood, dampen her energy. Lorenzo—her teammate, takes on quite a coaching role, offers an equal amount of encouragement and advice. 

She’s a quick learner, though. Charles knew she would be. So, despite the sound loss she and Lorenzo take in the first game, she manages a decent amount of solid shots and a spattering of genuinely impressive ones. She’s quick, that’s her advantage. She might not know what to do when she gets to the ball, but she always gets there. And, when she scores her first point, actually jumps into the air when she gives Lorenzo a high-five, he can’t help but find himself soft, a smile tugging on his lips, holding back on the points that follow in hopes of seeing her goofy grin again. 

“You did quite well out there,” he tells her when they’re between games. Her eyes light up and she hums around a mouthful of water, hurries to swallow it before she laughs. 

“Really?” She coughs, clears her throat. “You think?”

He nods. “You’re quick,” he mutters before taking a drink of his own water. 

��I ran track in high school.” He quirks a brow, which makes her smile, which makes him choke on a laugh mid-swallow. You’d think neither of them had ever had a drink from a plastic water bottle before. 

“Really?” She nods, hums her response, toying with her ponytail. Her bangs are loose, untucked from her ears and her hair-tie, and he feels the overwhelming urge to brush it from her face. “Why did I not know this?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Why didn’t you know that?”

“Google said nothing about this.”

“You Googled me?!” Briefly. Briefly, he had googled her at the very beginning of it all. Really, it was more Googling her family than it was her, they are the ones with all the information out there. He needed to make sure he wasn’t starting something with a raging white supremacist or a murderer. 

“You didn’t Google me?” She scratches the back of her head, not-so discreetly looks anywhere but her. “Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With a playful eye roll, she promptly changes the subject: “you want to be on my team?”

“I…” he laughs, “...don’t know if we are there yet.”

“Oh,” She laughs, brows raised with a goofy smile and it’s official—her laugh is never going to not give him butterflies, never not going to be so much better in person. “The truth comes out.”

Chris is soundly defeated in three straight games, despite finding herself with a new teammate each round—first Lorenzo, then Arhur, and finally, after five minutes of her best puppy-dog eyes, the most competitive man alive ( her boyfriend) agreed to be her teammate. 

It’s hours later by the time they leave the country club—no, no, Charles said it was specifically a padel club. They part ways with his brothers and then they’re driving back through the winding streets to his apartment. She ogles, like she’s been doing since she got here, all the careful, intricate architecture and the perfectly manicured manner of the whole place. It’s like people don’t live here, like she’s in a made-up land. She latches onto every imperfection—a crack in the sidewalk, a shrub with a single projection, a half-ragged French flag on the stern of a super yacht. It makes it all feel human, lived in, like the place someone can grow up, the place he grew up. 

After two hurried showers and a change of clothes they set off for lunch at Charles’ self-proclaimed “favorite restaurant.” It’s a sushi place, which she finds interesting, because not once has she heard him talk about sushi when talking about his favorite foods. 

Charles parks in a garage that’s a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant because, as he puts it, she’s walking the streets with the nation’s best tour guide. He starts the tour with the middle three corners of the Grand Prix, in reverse order—the hairpin, mirabeau bas, and portier, and then they take the quarter-or-so mile walk to the first of many monuments that Chris wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce in her own head. It’s there, somewhere between the forced tourist photos he snaps of her at Le Pêcheur and the one at the Promenade Princesse Louise-Hyppolyte, the truth comes to light. 

“What do you mean you did not tell anyone you were here?!” He exclaims all dramatic-like, dropping the phone from in front of his face, abandoning the search for what he considers the perfect angle. “You left the country, Chris.” She shrugs, doesn’t really see the big deal in all of it. It’s not like she… no, it is like she purposely didn’t tell people. That’s exactly what it is, actually. 

“I thought we were keeping this on the down-low.”

“Not that low!” He scolds, but she can tell he wants to laugh. He should, she thinks. It’s funny. “What if you die?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you planning on killing me?” He glares daggers, burns a you’re not funny look into her head. “Letting me be killed?” She’s sure it annoys him to no end, positive almost, but it’s not like she can go back in time and tell everyone, and even if she could, she’s not sure she would. She likes this being just theirs, at least for now, while they can still manage it. She likes not having to report back to her parents—to her dad, especially—about her hotshot, young punk racing driver of a boyfriend and the silver spoon he feeds her french delicacies with. 

He sighs, shoulders wildly heavy, and holds her phone back out to her. His eyes are soft, frustrated in a way she didn’t expect them to be. She really didn’t think it was that crazy of a decision. “You should have told someone,” he says, and she feels immensely guilty. 

“Hannah knows,” she blurts, an honest offer of anything she has to not get such a serious look from him. He’s not meant to be serious.

“Hannah knows?”

“She knows I went somewhere. I didn’t tell her where,” she says.  I didn’t tell her where because my brother and father don’t want me to date a race driver, she doesn’t say, because that would only make him more nervous. 

“You should have told someone you were here,” he says, drags out the vowel sounds and tosses an arm over her shoulder. He kisses her temple, pulls her into him and chuckles. Okay, okay. He’s not actually upset.

“Probably,” she nods, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. “I can tell them when I get home, if you want. Start some drama over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure making a good impression will not be hard after that.”

MayaBay, that’s the name of his favorite restaurant, Thai and Japanese and a sushi bar that Charles talks about for the entire walk there. Apparently securing a reservation at the restaurant was hard enough, but a seat at the coveted sushi bar was something else entirely, and, according to Charles, was his first failed call after Chris’ visit was planned. She tries to tell him that it doesn’t matter where in the restaurant they eat, but he’s insistent that he’s going to try again and again, and again every time she comes to visit until he can manage to get them in. 

Her cheeks flush red at the revelation and she continues to hold out hope he’s oblivious to the heat that radiates from her face every time he meets her with some sort of compliment or insistence of inclusion. She doesn’t even think he’s conscious of the latter, which makes it all that more special. He doesn’t have to take special care to include her in his life, he just does it—does it like he’s always been doing it, always been sharing these small parts of his life with her. 

Lunch is enough to leave her full for the entire day. Po Pia Kung and Ceviche and Roti and Nigiri—two plates, no wasabi, per Charles’s request—and she’s worried that she’ll be full before getting the chance to lay eyes on their entrees. 

“This place is so special,” she tells him from across the tiny table, around the too-big centerpiece. “Thank you.”

He hums around a mouthful of Roti, brings a napkin to his mouth when he swallows so he can start talking that little bit sooner. “For what?”

Chris shrugs. Thank you… for. For. For everything, she supposes. “For wanting me here.”

He smiles, dimples digging deep, cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink when he adjusts in his seat, leans forward enough that it’s just barely perceivable. “Thank you for wanting to be here,” and you blush right back. 

It’s got to be quite the sight for any onlookers, the two of them acting all middle-school. They aren’t aware enough of the other people in the restaurant for it to be of note, and even if they were, they wouldn’t care. 

It’s Pad Thai for the main course with a side of three bites of Charles’ Kadou Yang stolen in the midst of quiet conversation, and then, as if they haven’t shared everything else already, they split the restaurant’s signature, meant to share dessert. 

“So,” he hums, somewhere on the walk back to the car—or, to the surprise Charles refuses to reveal that’s on the way back to the car. He swings their interlocked hands between their body, drags the action out in the same way he does the vowel. “When do I get to come to Georgia?”

It takes her by surprise, puts a kiddish smile on her face. It should be obvious that he would want to come, because, well, it’s where she lives. But, every conversation has always been about her coming to him. And it makes sense to her, because he’s always moving and she’s always in the same place. It makes sense that he wouldn’t come to her, but now that she thinks about it, it makes more sense that he would. “You want to come to Georgia?”

“That,” he laughs, “that is a silly question. Of course I want to.”

“Well, I mean. You’re always welcome, but I don’t know what your schedule looks like.” She knows it’s a mess, undoubtedly, even if she’s never laid eyes on it. She can only imagine the amount of people wanting him in places year round, and having all of that squished into a couple month period of time? She wouldn’t be surprised if he spends more time traveling in the offseason than he does when he’s actually racing. 

“I don’t know what it looks like, either,” he takes out his phone and clicks through half a dozen apps with his free hand—the one not intertwined with hers. “Uh…,” he chuckles at the screen like even he can’t believe just how in demand he is. “Next month I’m in Italy for some days, then France for Christmas and London for New Year.” Chris leans over to look at his calendar. 

“What about there?” She asks,  pointing to the block of dates that are empty between his color-coded trips to Italy and France. “My brother’s wedding is that weekend,” she says, and then realizes how crazy the proposition sounds and instantly attempts to retract it, “but you probably don’t want to go to that.”

She’d love more than anything to have him at Chase and Hannah’s wedding, but she can understand why he would want to do anything else. It’s one thing to make him travel all that way, but then to make him travel all that way for a wedding, where he’ll have to meet the parents and the siblings and dog—that’s just a cruel thing to imply is expected of him. It’s certainly no way to keep him wanting to come back for another visit. 

He bumps his shoulder against hers. “I love weddings.”

“Yeah?” She bumps back, dumb little smile on her face. “When you don’t know anyone there and your girlfriend is in the bridal party?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Unconsciously, she puts distance between their arms, to keep from getting too hot or to keep them from tripping or maybe for no reason at all because she really doesn’t notice that she does it. “My whole family’ll be there,” she continues meekly, and their arms are almost taught. 

“Good,” Charles scoffs, and pulls her right back to his side, like even an arm’s length is too far.  “I can fix the first impression you’re going to break.”

Chris rolls her eyes, both at his words and his actions—painfully endeared by both.  “Why are you so convinced I’m going to have something bad to say about you?”

“I’m not worried really about what you say, but your father is not going to like me if you say to him, ‘this is my boyfriend who I saw in two different countries without telling to you.’”

“Yeah,” she nods, bites back a laugh against the skin on the inside of her cheek. It shouldn’t be as funny as it is to her; the state of her life. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there,” she cuts the vowel short, chokes on a laugh, sucks in her own lips in an attempt to keep them from spilling, the laugh escaping silently through her nose. He meets her with a matching—no, a somehow dramatized mirroring—of her expression that only makes it that much harder not to laugh. When she finally does break, there are practically tears in her eyes, and it was never even that funny. 

He smiles at her laugh, like always, and shakes his head. “I will have to come to this wedding to do damage control.” 

“Probably,” she nods, still laughing. It’s like it’s all just sunk in for her—the boyfriend. The long distance boyfriend, as in, long distance. Whatever everyone else considers long distance, times the distance of the Atlantic Ocean and the average net worth of his hometown. The fact that he was a stranger just a few months ago, and now she’s in her second foreign country in three days with him and it all feels so normal. The fact that she didn’t even want to go on that Hot Lap—hot laps, plural— or that she didn’t have any interest in going to the race. If she’d tried just a little bit harder to get out of it, or stayed in the beer tent for just ten minutes longer or, or, or. It’s not funny at all, and yet it’s hilarious. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know this?”

“I know this.” She sighs, deep and slow and grounding, one stray chuckle slipping through her lips before she can continue. “Don’t book any flights, then—Until I make sure it’s all good with Hannah.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, salutes her with his phone still in his hand and everything.

“Okay, so,” Charles sighs, drops his head against the pillow with a soft plop. Lunch was hours ago, now, succeeded by a walk around the Japanese Gardens, a trip to the supermarket because his fridge is, as Chris so affectionately referred to it as—bachelor pad chic—and a personal tour around the Prince’s Car Collection where he got to show off his favorite memories. It’s after dinner, even. After half-stale pasta made by him and meal-saving chicken expertly prepared by her, after two episodes of a French reality show with English closed captioning, after a day he won’t soon forget. It’s then, in bed, while she reads the final pages of the book she’s been cutting away at for weeks now, that he tests his knowledge on the information he’s been quizzing her for afternoon. “Chandler is the oldest, and she’s dating Alexis.”

“Correct,” Chris says, turns the page on her book. 

“But the drama is that Alexis doesn’t like any of your family, so she and your sister moved away and don’t come to anything.” She hums her response this time, and he wonders if she’s even listening all that much or if he could get her to agree to anything right now. “And then Chase is in the middle, he’s marrying Hannah. But the drama is Hannah was—” before he can even get the next word out, she’s glancing over at him to interject. “Hannah is your best friend, and was before Chase dated her. And she has a little boy named Reid with a dickhead.”

“Yup.”

“And then you, my perfect little angel.”

She smiles at the pages of her book. He likes making her smile. “Don’t forget it.”

“Your parents are Bill and Cindy, short for… William and,” he pauses. She pauses. He has no idea what Cindy is short for. “Lucinda?” Chris blinks, hard, dog ears the corner of her page and shuts her book. If he didn’t already know it was a pretty shit guess, he sure knows it now. Sometimes a blink is worth a thousand and one words. 

“No,” she says, furrows her brows so subtly that it shouldn’t be recognizable, but it is. And then she blinks again. 

“I knew that,” he boasts, his best cocky tone and a matching smug expression on his face. “I was just testing you.”

She chuckles, leans to her right to set the book down on the bed-side table there. “On my own mother’s name?” She questions, tucking herself under the covers and scooching over, leaning against his chest comfortably. He would let her lie like this as long as she wanted. It’s so sweet to have her in his arms.

“Well, you call her ‘Mom,’” he explains, even down to the forced American accent when he says ‘Mom.’ “So maybe you did not know.”

“Cindy isn’t short for anything.”

“Like I said,” he twists her hair around his finger slowly, mindlessly, without any sort of purpose or intention. When she uses him like a pillow this way, he can always smell her shampoo. He’s been trying to place it for days now. Coconut, he knows—but there is something else there, too, something he can’t put his finger on.  “I know this.”

“Okay, continue then.”

“I will,” he says, lets the twirled hair fall from his finger and kisses her head with a smile on his face. “They have a dog called Beans that you call Beanie-Baby,” he pauses. “And the drama is, your parents do not like me.”

He can see the apples of her cheeks flare in his peripheral, a laugh stirring in her chest. “The drama is: there is no drama with them,” she says. “They’re all bark no bite.”

He adjusts underneath her, sighs all heavy and deflated because the thought of it—her family, her parents. It’s so fucking intimidating, it is. Because he knows how important they are to her, how highly she regards their opinion, even if she pretends that she doesn’t. He knows that it’s everything to her, and if he makes even a single mis-step he could ruin it all—their opinion, her opinion, all of it. And something in his gut, a pit in his stomach tells him that she’s already made a mis-step for him when she came over here without telling anyone she was coming. Why wouldn’t she tell anyone she was coming? “What do I even talk to them about?”

“I don’t know,” she says, adjusts to accommodate his adjustment, and eventually they’ll get properly comfortable. “Racing.”

“We race in different cars.”

“But it’s all cars.”

He opens his mouth to speak, pauses, clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and then finally, “it’s different.”

“I think you’re overreacting a bit, here,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. He’s not overreacting, she’s underreacting. “I get along with your Mom and your brothers and I don't know what anyone is saying half of the time.” Okay, okay, maybe she has a point there. He did kind of throw her to the wolves this week—not that his family are wolves, just. Meeting the parents before the relationship is even a relationship is. It’s just messed up for him to do, and she’d handled it gracefully, perfectly and flawlessly charmed everyone. 

But then again. “Yeah, but you’re you.” Anyone would be charmed by her. She’s very charming. 

“And you’re you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” She can’t possibly understand it because he doesn’t even properly understand it, the way he feels about her. The fear he feels about losing all the indecipherable feelings. It’s just good, everything about her, about being near her. It’s all so sweet and nice and good and he really, really doesn’t want to screw it up.

“You’ve already met my Dad,” she starts, clearly trying to calm him down, to ease his nerves. “My brother is just like him but more annoying,” she laughs, and even though he’s half deflated, her laugh still puts a weak smile on his face. “My sister probably won’t speak to you, and my Mom loves anyone that calls her ma’am and tells her she looks young. Just don’t talk about racing with her.”

“You just told me—”

“With the boys,” Chris clarifies.

“Your Mum doesn’t like Chase racing?”

“Does yours?” Good point. Is there a mother on the face of the planet, over all of history, that loved the idea of their kid racing other kids around high speed corners without any regard for their own lives?

“Then why did she let him?”

“I’m sure the same reason yours let you. Dad’s can be very convincing.”

His stomach drops. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be. My dad was.” His fingers trace mindless circles on the skin of her arm, soft and warm and clean. His eyes focus on the little red light on the bottom of his television, the one that’s only on when the TV is off. “He would spend so much time at the karting track with my brothers and I, you would not believe it. Sometimes my Mum would say that we lived there and should take blankets to sleep in the karts,” He says, and Chris laughs, makes him aware of his tracing fingers, but doesn’t stop them. “She would always say to us, ‘be careful, drive slow,’ and my Dad would always say ‘be careful, have fun.’ Now Mum will say to us just to be careful.”

“Did your Dad drop the ‘have fun,’ too?”

Red Light. Soft skin. He knew it was coming, it’s always coming, only a matter of time before he had to tell her. Honestly, he’s surprised it had gone this long, that she hadn’t asked about his father the moment she met the rest of the family and he was absent. He can’t stomach the look of pity she’ll give him. She can take it from everyone else, always had—but the image of that look on her face, the dead dad look. He never wants her to look at him like that. 

Red light. Stupid shapes. “No, uh,” he drags out his own words, putting off the inevitable by even a few more moments. “My father died when I was a teenager.” 

At least he knows her google search of him months earlier wasn’t too in-depth. “Oh my God, Charles,” She says, voice quiet and soft, like she thinks her words will break him. They won’t. He wishes she knew they won’t. 

“No,” he chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “No. Don’t look at me like that,”

“I’m not,” she protests, but he doesn’t have to look at her to confirm. Nobody is above the look of pity. 

“You are.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” she says, sits up off his chest. He keeps his eyes on the red light. “Look at me,” she insists, a soft hand on his jaw, pulling him back to her. 

He rolls his eyes before he looks, before there’s an eternity of silent eye contact because she doesn’t have the look on her face. Anyone can tell she feels bad, especially him, but it’s different. It’s different, and he doesn’t feel like some pathetic puppy in a cold corner. He doesn’t feel like a nineteen year old who’s world is in shambles. He just feels like him. Like it’s all okay. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she finally speaks, and he hears it now. She doesn’t think he’s going to break, that’s now why she’s meek. She feels guilty, guilty that she brought it up, that she didn’t know, that he thinks she would ever think he would break.

“How would you?”

Sincere in her apology, in her guilt, she doubles down. “I’m still sorry.”

Her eyes are filled with something pure, some innocent kind of affection and he feels awful that she feels awful. “I’m sorry for going on about him.”

“I’ll listen as long as you want to talk.”

He smiles, a genuine laugh falling from his lips. “I can talk forever.”

“Then,” she smiles, leans over to kiss him before getting comfortable again, snuggling into his chest like before. “Tell me all about him.”

They sleep late the next morning. Maybe they’re adjusting to the timezone—unlikely, especially in Chris’ case—or they were just up to late talking, but Chris is stretching against the sheets, against Charles, just after nine.

It’s no surprise that she wakes up tangled in a mess of limbs, not even something she minds. Even with her hand asleep and painfully tingley. She knows that she won’t get to wake up like this tomorrow morning, or the morning after, or every morning for at least a month, so. She doesn’t mind the heat and the sleeping limbs and the threat of a knot in her shoulder. 

She wiggles out from his grip without waking him, grabs her phone from the bedside table and checks the time. She scans the room, eyes floating over all of her things scattered about. She should start packing up, she thinks. Start packing and getting ready to leave. 

She tiptoes across the room, around the corner into the bathroom to start there, far away from his sleeping body. Quietly, carefully, she brushes her teeth, washes her face and tugs a brush through her hair, tying it back into a ponytail. Slowly, she gathers her stuff—makeup and hair tools and skincare—and packs it away carefully into her toiletries bag. 

When she comes back into the bedroom, still cringing with every creak of the floor under her feet, she finds Charles awake in bed, soft, sleepy smile when she turns the corner. “Come back to bed,” he’s pleading before she can even mutter a good morning. 

“I have to pack,” she argues half-heartedly, because she wants nothing more than to climb back into bed, and his voice is no help—all hoarse and raspy with sleep. 

“Why?” He asks, drags the letter sounds out into a yawn that makes her smile. 

“Because,” she says, draws out the e-sound to tease his cadence. “It’s almost nine-thirty, and I'm leaving in two hours.”

“You don’t have two hours of stuff,” he protests. 

“I don’t like to be late,” she continues over her shoulder, opening her suitcase and laying it flat on the floor at the end of the bed, readjusting the still-folded clothes she hadn’t ended up wearing. 

“Well,” he says, stretches against his sheets and then he’s getting out of bed with another yawn. “Let me help you, then.”

He steps around her open suitcase carefully. There isn’t exactly a surplus of floorspace for him to find his footing in. He disappears into the bathroom, locks the door behind him while she continues to gather her things, reappearing ten minutes later. “Give me a kiss,” he says, trudging over to her with open arms. 

“You’re so needy this morning,” she quips, slinking her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He hums against her lips in agreement and the vibration makes her giggle into his mouth. 

Chris makes an attempt to return to the task at hand, but he has different plans, and follows around right behind her. His arms wrap around her torso everytime she stills for even a moment and he hugs her from behind, kisses her shoulders and her neck and her hair. 

“You make it hard to pack,” she tells him, and he laughs into the crook of her neck. What she really means is: you make it hard to leave. 

“Come back to bed.”

“I want to,” she sighs, leans back against his body.

He turns with her so they’re facing the bed. “It is right there,” he says, and she groans. “Look at it, all warm and comfy.” He’s right, the sheets look so soft, the pillows so fluffed. It’s a bed begging to be slept in, to be lounged on, to be snuggled by. 

She wiggles from his grasp, backs away from him towards the door and makes a challenge that she knows she has no intention of winning; “We can go back to bed,” she starts, still inching further away from him, further away from the bed, “if you can catch me,” and then she bolts. 

Chris’ high school claim to fame might have been that she was an all-state track and field athlete, but she’s got nothing on her boyfriend, who’s made a career out of his reflexes. It’s all pants and squeals and laughs that go on for entirely too long. 

She realizes that she’s trapped when they’re stood on opposite sides of his dining room table, and she couldn’t be the least bit bothered. She tries to fake him out, to move left and then right, but he predicts the move before she even makes it, catches her with a strong grip around her waist and lifts  her off her feet, carries her into the bedroom and tackles her onto the bed. 

click here for the nsfw cut

Chris’ flight leaves Nice at 12:30 pm, and then it’s a two and a half hour layover in Amsterdam, until finally, she lands in Atlanta long after sunset. She Ubers home and by the time she’s flopping down onto her couch, it’s almost eleven. Charles is the only call she makes before crashing. Then again, who else would she call? He’s one of two people who knew she was anywhere but home, and the only one who’d made her promise to call—despite the time difference and the Uber delay—with the threat of calling the first Georgia police number he could find on google to report her missing. 

He answers on the third ring, voice with the same rasp of that morning. “Hello?”

“Hi,” she speaks through a yawn, lays the phone beside her ear on the couch cushion and leaving it on speaker. 

“Hey,” he laughs, and she can perfectly hear the smile on his lips. She can almost feel it, the way the room reacts to it. 

“You gave me a hickey,” she says, fingering the bruise that lies an inch above her collarbone. His giggle on the other end is loud and boyish—particularly teenager-ish. 

“So, you made it home safe?”

“Well, if you ignore the vampire bruise on my neck.”

“Sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing like a little kid. 

“It’s not funny,” she warns, thinly veiled because even she can hear the tired laugh at the back of her throat. 

“It’s a little funny.”

Chris rolls her eyes. “I have to see my entire family tomorrow!”

“Eh,” he hums, and just like the smile, she can see the shrug. She can see him so well it’s like he’s here or she’s there or that they’re somewhere together. Somewhere that doesn’t really matter, because they’re both there, smiling and laughing and shrugging. God. God, she already misses him so much. “They already don’t like me.”

“Charles!” She scolds, but she’s laughing now, too.

“I’m sorry,” he smooths. “I am. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” Chris sighs, pokes her own neck. “I’m not upset, I’ll just have to whisk it all morning.”

He chuckles. “You have to do what?” 

“You know, like. For eggs…or baking. A whisk,” with every word that leaves her mouth, another letter is types into her phone’s search bar. Google Translate: whisk.  “Le fouet?”

“Le fouet??” He questions with a tone that would make her think she’d called him a slur. “I do not think that is right.”

“Le fouet à…” she trails off, debating internally over the pronunciation of the words in front of her. “How do you say the ‘o’ and the ‘e’ when they’re together?” She asks, butchers it before he has the chance to give her any answer. “Œufs?”

“I have no idea what you are telling to me.”

“Telling you,” Chris corrects. “What I’m telling you.”

“Oh, mon dieu,” he groans. “This is sad. We can talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” she nods, yawns again. It’s long past her bedtime, and she has no idea how many hours now she’s been awake for. It’s gotta be going on twenty or more, surely. Surely. 

“Thank you for calling me,” he says, softly, genuinely grateful for the call. She’s grateful he’s grateful. It’s sweet, all the little things he does to show he cares. The way he does most of them without realizing it. 

“Thank you for wanting me to call.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

LOVE - Chapter 5

After getting back together, Janelle finds out thats she's pregnant. Follow along with Josh and Janelle as they deal with the highs and lows of her pregnancy.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

Janelle is played by Justine Skye

Hopefully this is only 2 chapters but you know me lol it might be more.

Sequel to All I Need Is You: Read Here

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

TAGLIST: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci24 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @gomussy @jeysbae @hennyyybarb @babysyhsy @bebesobrielo

Janelle looked up from the T.V when she heard the front door open and close. Her smile dropped from her face when Josh walked into the living room. 

“What happened?” Josh sighed and sat down on the couch next to her. 

“She has rights to Xavi. She’s his mother and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Janelle gasped. 

“But she abandoned him!” 

“I know that. My lawyer said that the courts won’t  care.” He groaned. “No matter what she always comes back and ruins shit. It’s like she knows when I’m happy.” He said as he stood up and started to pace. Janelle just sat there and watched him not knowing what to do or say.  She looked over at her dad when he walked into the living room. He walked over to Josh and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping his pacing. 

“Josh, you know I’ve been through the same thing with Nelle and her brothers. And my one regret is not fighting hard enough. You said she left him at your mother's house right?” 

Josh nodded. “Yeah, on the porch didn’t even knock, just left him there.” Janelle’s dad nodded. 

“Okay, did y’all take him to the hospital or anything? Call the police?” Josh nodded. “Okay. get all the paperwork. Since she is his mom you have to prove that she is unfit.” 

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” Josh said as he got his phone out of his pocket. 

“That’s how I got Nelle and her brothers back. It took some time, but no matter what. Do not stop fighting for your boy.”

“I’m bout to head to to get Xavi from school.” Janelle said a couple of hours later as she walked into the nursery for their son. “Probably stop by the market too.” 

“Janelle, you need to relax. You’re 8-” 

“8 months pregnant. Yeah I know.” She said with a chuckle. “But, you need to finish this crib.” She said looking at all the pieces scattered all over the floor. 

“Fine, just be careful.” She blew him a kiss as she left the room. 

Janelle let out a groan as she stepped out of the car and stretched. Her back was killing her. She couldn’t wait until she gave birth. She smiled at the secretary as she entered Xavi’s school. 

“Good Afternoon. Beth.” Beth gave Janelle a quizzical look. 

“Hey Janelle. Um, Xavier’s mom already came and picked him up.”  Janelle actually felt her heart stop beating. 

“Excuse me?” She said, as she started to panic. She pulled her phone out of her purse and called Josh.  How did she find out where Xavi went to school?! Beth gulped and handed Janelle the photo copy of Ximena’s ID. 

“She came here with the birth certificate. She said Josh said it was okay for her to come get him.” Janelle narrowed her eyes and pointed a manicured finger at Beth. 

“We had a list of people who can pick him up and she was not on the list Bethany!” Beth jumped and the volume of Janelle’s voice. 

“Nelle, why are you yelling.?!” Josh asked once he answered the phone. 

“They let Ximena talk Xavi, Josh.”

“Call the cops.” was all Josh said before he hung up the phone and rushed over to the school. Janelle groaned and put her phone back in her bag. 

“Why wouldn’t yall call me or Josh first!” She said as she rubbed her hand on her belly. She was starting to get cramps. 

“I called the cops for you.” Beth whispered, feeling awful. “I’m sorry we didn’t know.” 

Janelle sighed and winced as the cramps got intense.  “I thought the pick-up slips were for a reason.” Beth nodded, but before she could say anything Josh stormed through the door. 

“What they fuck is wrong with yall!” He yelled. “Why would yall let my fuckin’ son go with someone not on his fucking pick up list.” 

“Mr. Fatu, we are - “ 

“Man, fuck all that. Where the cops?” He said, turning to look at Janelle. 

“We called them.” The principal said. Finally coming out of his office. He walked over and tried to shake Josh’s hand. He quickly put his hand down when Josh gritted his teeth at him. 

“Mr. Fatu. Let me be the first to say how sorry we are. But she had his birth certificate.” Janelle zoned out of the conversation because her cramps were getting worse. Josh stopped yelling at the principal when he saw Janelle walk over to a chair and sit down. He rushed over to her when she let out a groan and pinched her eyes shut in pain. 

“Nelle, what's wrong?” He asked, placing his hands over hers. 

“Braxton-Hicks.” She said and waved him off. “I’m fine.” They both looked over towards the door when the cops walked in. “Go talk to them.” Janelle tried to do the breathing exercises her OB told her about but they were not working. Josh noticed the distress on his fiance’s face and excused himself from the police officers. 

“Nell, go home and rest. I got this.” She opened her eyes and shook her head. 

“No, what if-” 

“Janelle. Please.” 

“Fine.” She said and held out her hand so he could help her up. “Call me, when you find out something,” She said and he nodded. 

Janelle sighed as she stopped at a red light. This whole situation was beyond fucked and Ximena’s karma was come back and bite her in the ass. She just hoped that wherever Xavi was he was safe.

Janelle pulled up to their house and stared at the car in her driveway. She had never seen it before and it had a Florida license plate. She shrugged as she made her way into the house. 

Janelle dropped her bag in shock when she saw who was in the living room. “Xavi?!” She ran over to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. “You okay?” She asked as she pulled away from him and started to check him for marks. 

Janelle’s dad walked into the living room when he heard her voice. “I tried to call you and Josh. y’all didn’t pick up.” She went to reply but the look on her dad’s face stopped her. 

“Dad. What’s wrong?” 

“Call Josh and come in the kitchen. Now” He said and walked back into the kitchen. She looked back down at Xavi who was already back to watching cartoons and pulled out her phone to call Josh as she walked into the kitchen. 

“So you must be the fiance.” Janelle looked up and made eye contact with the man from Josh’s mom party, then her eyes slid over to the woman next to him. She looked just like Xavier. The woman got out of her chair and sauntered over to Janelle, looking her up and down. “I’m Ximena. Xavi’s mom.” 

Hopefully you guys like this chapter. ❤️

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 7 - The Unknown.

Reader: Looks like there's only one bed.

Eddie: Of course there's only one bed, it's my bedroom. Why would there be two? You knew this before you came over.

Reader: I said it looks like there's only one bed. 

Eddie: Well shit you're right there's only one bed

It's long, it's dialogue heavy, but there's fluffy smut in a fucking bed this time.

Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), mutual masturbation, p in v sex, explicit language, mentions of drugs. I'm so tired so I haven't a clue if i've left anything out.

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

You’re a ball of nervous energy as you cycle to work, you tell yourself there’s no reason to be. You were only going to Eddie's place, no big deal, just a couple of pals hanging out. The fact you had shaved, scrubbed, buffed, plucked and exfoliated every reachable inch of skin on your body at 8am was completely unrelated.

You and Eddie had agreed the best option was for him to pick you up straight from work at five, well not straight from work more like four blocks over, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You had told your dad you would be staying over at Robin’s tonight, which left you with two remaining issues. The first being you had to ask Robin to cover for you, which meant telling her you would be decidedly elsewhere. The second, and the one that filled you with the biggest sense of unease, was the implication that you would be staying overnight at Eddie’s; and the strange little flutters that accompanied it, flutters that you resolutely refused to recognise as butterflies.

“Morning!” You say breezing into the store.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Robin looks at you slightly disgusted, leaning on the counter.

“Nothing, nothing.” You sidle up to her, resting your head on her shoulder with a sweet smile. “Just happy to see my best friend.”

“What do you want?” She asks flatly, rolling her eyes at the display.

“I need you to say I’m at your place tonight if my dad asks.” You simper, her eyebrows contracting in suspicion.

“Why, where will you actually be?” 

“With the guy from the party.” You say it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, hoping Robin would simply agree and drop the subject; but this was Robin. She turns to face you, her expression burning with curiosity.

“Holy shit! Is this a second date? Are you going on a second date?!” She all but screeches, and you find yourself having PTSD flashbacks of Steve walking in.

“No, it is not a second date, mostly because I don’t think the original hook up counts as a first. Also, I seriously need you to start working on your volume control.” You say through gritted teeth.

“But this is huge!” She exclaims, holding your forearms. “Wait, I thought you said he doesn’t live around here and was just visiting for the party?” 

  Shit! You did say that the day after you and Eddie made the pact, in an attempt to embezzle the story enough to throw her off the scent.

You’re saved from the pressure of a response when Steve comes in from the backroom.

“Ahoy there ladies!” He sings, hopping up onto the counter.

“Didn’t work on the ladies at Scoops Ahoy, not gonna work now dingus, especially as I’m a lesbian. So, please stop.” Robin begs.

“Are you a lesbian Robin? You should have said something.” He bites back sarcastically.

“I don’t know, it would have worked on me, I always thought you looked pretty cute in the outfit.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and you were rewarded with Steve blushing profusely.

“Oh - uh - thanks.” He grins bashfully.

“Why is everyone so chipper?” Robin huffs, flouncing off.

__________________________________________________________

The day seemed to fly by until you got to 4pm, you started to zone out every 10 minutes trying to work out if you were excited or terrified. There was a part of you that wanted to call Eddie and cancel, and then there was the part of you that couldn’t wait to see him; the stupid little flutters erupting once more. You were logging returns with Steve, once again, when he nudged you.

“Hey, you in there?” He says with a smile.

“Yeah, sorry, must have zoned out.” You mumble embarrassed.

He regards you carefully for a moment.

“Something on your mind?”

Only about 100 million things, you think wryly.

“Nope, I’m all good, just only so many times you can read the word overdue before it starts to look like gibberish.” You laugh lightly

“Very true.” He chuckles. “But, I didn’t know if it had anything to do with your date tonight.” He presses, clearly testing the waters. 

“Fucking Buckley.” You snap. “I’m going to murder her. How come she can keep a secret about another dimension but not about my date?!” Mentally correcting yourself on the word date.

“Hey, don’t blame Robin, she’s excited for you” He soothes. “So you settled on seeing the mystery guy again, only last week you didn’t seem so sure?”

“He’s been very persistent.” You say truthfully.

“Is it serious?” His asks quickly, voice oddly stilted.

“I - uh - it’s not really like - we’re not at that stage yet.” You stammer, a little thrown at Steve’s sudden interest in your love life.

“Just be careful honey. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” He says quietly.

“I think I'm more likely to hurt him.” You say honestly.

“How come?” Steve asks in surprise, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back, which short circuits your brain.

“It’s complicated.” You manage to force out.

“It shouldn’t be.” He says, the hand now rubbing in circles, you were actually going to pass out. 

“You and Nancy have had complications though.” You point out, feeling a mixture of disappointment and relief when drops his hand.

“Yeah but me and Nance, we always find our way back to each other. I can be myself around her, you know? No bullshit, it’s easy.” 

  You don't know which throws you more, the fact you weren’t wanting to pitch yourself off the nearest bridge in despair as was your usual mindset when Steve talks about Nancy, or that the only face you could see as he talked was Eddie’s; although that might have something to do with the fact he was walking into the store with a shit-eating grin. You were hallucinating, surely.

“Munson.” Steve greeted him from behind you.

Ok, not a hallucination, commence panic attack.

“Harrington.” Eddie acknowledged with a nod, strolling past you towards the Sci-Fi section.

“Hey, you ok honey?” Steve put a hand on your arm, evidently the panic in your brain was showing on your face. 

“What? Oh yeah just uh, thinking about what you said. I’m gonna put these back out.” You say quickly, grabbing a random handful of tapes with shaking hands.

“Ok, I’m gonna help Rob in the stockroom whilst it’s quiet.” You nod, barely hearing him, eyes trained on Eddie’s back. You wait until the stockroom door closes, effectively sprinting the length of the store, hitting him hard in the arm.

  “What the fucking fuck are you doing here?” You hiss furiously.

“Ah, jeez! That’s not a very nice way to greet a customer.” He gripes, massaging his bicep.

“Don’t be fucking cute Eddie, what are you doing here?” You ask again, voice exceptionally high pitched.

“Renting a movie and getting assaulted apparently.” He says, still wincing. "You like Sci-Fi? Alien?"

You just stare at him, unsure if he's insulting you. He huffs, picking a tape off the shelf shaking it in front of you.

“Ridley Scott’s 1979 masterpiece, Alien. I thought we could watch it tonight. But, how have you not seen this already?" He asks incredulously.

"My dad only likes Westerns and war films." You shrug. "Is it scary? I'm not good with scary films."

Eddie smirks, leaning in so closely you can feel his body heat, your breath hitches.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll protect you." He glances at the stockroom door before pressing a chaste kiss to your surprised lips.

"What was that for?" You ask quietly.

"You're adorable when you're flustered." He grins, you feel warm from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, eyes darting about in a panic. "Yeah, like that." He adds softly, stealing another kiss, longer and firmer than the last, which has you clinging onto his jacket.

  The tinkling bell of the door makes you jump apart with a gasp, some old lady coming in with young grandchildren, your heart hammering at your recklessness.

“Alien, will be fine.” You say quickly, heading back towards the counter to process the rental, just in time for Robin to emerge.

“Hey Buckley.” Eddie says casually, leaning on the counter, tapping out a rhythm with his ringed fingers.

“Hey Munson, recruited any new cult members lately?” She asks playfully.

“Not yet, but the night is still young.” He grins.

“Uh, $3 please.” You say awkwardly, watching the exchange. 

“Oh and a bag of Red Vines, got a hot date tonight and she’s a big fan.” He smirks so wide it looks like it hurts, your eyes feel like they’re going to drop out of your head at his open audacity, scrambling clumsily for the money on the counter as Robin hands him the sweets.

“Always a pleasure ladies, see you at school.” He calls, leaving the store with a spring in his step, if you didn’t know any better you’d say he’s trying to send you into an early grave.

“Isn’t it time you got off babe?” Robin says, knocking you out of your reverie.

“What?” You ask skittishly, she points at the clock on the wall with a grin, 5pm, and under the grin there was another look on her face that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

___________________________________________________________

You cycle to the Library as agreed, still pondering over Robin’s expression, Eddie sat on the bumper of the van waiting, trademark grin still firmly in place.

“Your face ever get tired from smirking all the time?” You ask, dismounting, he ignores you stowing your bike into the back.

“Cute basket, princess. You also get handlebar streamers with this model?” He snipes.

“Fuck off Munson.” You say but find yourself grinning too.

  You clamber into the cab, already rooting about in your backpack, excitedly extracting your precious cassette tape.

“What is that?” Eddie asks warily, climbing in the driver’s side. 

“A mixtape.” You smile

“And where, pray tell, are you planning on playing it?”

You point hopefully towards the car tape player.

“No, nope, absolutely not.” He says resolutely, shaking his head.

“Aw c’mon Eddie, please?” You plead, stringing out the please.

“There is no way I'm letting you play your shitty music in my van.” 

  You narrow your eyes, changing tack, leaning close, you softly suck a hickey into the side of his neck, your hand rubbing gently over his inner thigh.

“That’s really mean.” He whines, huffing out a breath.

“You can punish me later.” You purr.

“Oh I intend to sweetheart.” He growls, ducking his head to kiss you, with a harsh nip at your bottom lip. “Alright you can play one song, one, that’s it.”

You clap happily, Eddie reluctantly ejecting a Black Sabbath tape, and taking yours from you with the same look someone gives dogshit.

“Side A please.” You grin, dancing in your seat as the opening notes of Gypsy - Fleetwood Mac fill the van.

“Oh god it’s worse than I thought, Fleetwood Mac? Seriously?” He asks aghast, but you see his fingers drumming the rhythm as he pulls away.

“I love Fleetwood Mac, and this is my favourite song ever.” You sigh, singing along absentmindedly. “And it all comes down to you, well you know that it does, lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice.”

“Not a bad set of pipes you got there sweetheart.” He says smiling at you fondly, making you trail off in embarrassment, switching to humming instead for the rest of the drive.

____________________________________________________________

True to his word and much to your disappointment, Eddie pressed the stop button before Dancing Queen could really get started.

“We definitely need to expand your musical horizons princess, I mean ABBA?” He says looking like he might throw up.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You snort, as he pulls into the trailer park, your nerves rising to the surface once more.

The trailer was much as you expected, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, there was something comforting about the way it was so lived in. Multiple shelves and hooks filled with collectable mugs and caps, the fridge littered with magnets and photos, the rundown mismatched furniture set on swirling threadbare 1960’s carpeting.

“It’s uh not much.” Eddie says nervously, moving to hide a few dirty dishes into the sink.

“I think it’s great.” You say honestly with a smile, giving some of the mugs a closer inspection.

“It’s my Uncle, he’s a bit of a fanatic.” He mutters, coming up beside you.

“My Gramps was the same, except he was into model trains and cars, he always let me play with them though.” You recall happily, putting the mug back on the rickety shelf.

“So, uh, bathroom is there, kitchen you can see, obviously.” Eddie rambles, pointing in various directions. “And uh my room is the one at the end.”

“Do you mind if I dump my bag and get changed?” You ask, feeling bunched up, still in your uncomfortable work uniform.

“Yeah sure, I'll order the pizza.” He says, shrugging his jacket off. “Any preference to toppings?”

“Nah, I'm easy.” You say, instantly regretting your phrasing as he winks at you, you roll your eyes and flip him the bird heading into the bedroom as he laughs behind you.

  Much like the rest of the trailer, every available surface in Eddie’s room was occupied, various candy wrappers, empty beer cans, dirty mugs, clothing, drug paraphernalia, and nudie mags. A massive amp was slotted next to the bed, smaller speakers piled up in a corner. Band posters covered the walls, along with a huge homemade Corroded Coffin banner, next to it in pride of place suspended in a wall stand was Eddie’s electric guitar.

“She’s a beaut’ huh?” Eddie says proudly, making you jump.

“She’s a she?” You ask, watching in amusement as walks past you to place a two finger kiss to the body.

“Of course she’s a she.” He scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Uh - pizza will be about 20 minutes.” 

“Ok.” You say standing awkwardly, change of clothes held in your hand.

“Sorry about the mess, I was going to clean but wasn’t sure whether you were actually going to come or not, and then I got into this whole thing about whether cleaning was a good idea because I know I'm not gonna keep up with it. So I thought maybe best if i just -”

“Uh - Ed’s I still need to get changed.” You cut him off.

“Shit yeah, sorry, I'll shut up and get the film set up. K, bye.” He says abruptly leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

  You had gone the comfortable but kinda cute route of soft grey pyjama shorts and an old oversized sky blue t-shirt, Eddie was crouched down by the VCR player hitting it intermittently when you came back into the room.

“C’mon on you piece of shit.” He hisses, a final smack and you could hear the tape whirr into life inside. “Hallelujah!”

“You know that’s really bad for the tape right?” You say, making him jump, he stands up taking in your appearance, his staring making you feel self conscious.

“Wow” He breathes.

“What?” You ask, suddenly worried your top has a massive hole in it.

“You look - Can I just -?” He moves quickly, pulling you to him, lips moving against yours, his hands in your hair. You wrap your arms around his waist, allowing him to deepen the kiss, heart slamming in your chest as he backs you up against the wall, one of the caps behind you falling unnoticed. “You’re so -” Eddie is cut off by a heavy knock on the door, you groan resting your head in the crook of his neck.  “Fucking cockblocking pizza.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your hair.

___________________________________________________________

“So just how scary is this film? You ask warily, legs tucked under you as you take a bite out of the double pepperoni and jalapeno pizza.

“It’s so-so.” Eddie replies evasively, settling back comfortably with his own slice.

“Eddie.” You say warningly, as the creepy music starts and the opening title card develops into the word ‘ALIEN.’

“Sweetheart, you’ll be fine there’s just a couple of jump-scares.” He reassures you, passing you a cracked open can of beer.

  You’re about 30 minutes into the film when it starts to get scary, John Hurt’s character coming across hundreds of gross looking eggs. Eddie has his arm around you, your face half hidden in his chest, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table.

“Why would you go near it?” You whine, turning further into the soft fabric of his usual Hellfire Club t-shirt.

“Keep watching baby.” He encourages, a big smile on his sadistic little face, you cringe, eyes almost squeezed shut as the egg slowly opens in tense silence, a Facehugger suddenly flies out and you scream.

“No, Ed’s I don’t like it!” You cry, jumping out of your skin. “Can we watch something else, please?” You beg not caring about how pathetic you sound.

“You really not enjoying it?” He asks, gently tilting your face up to look at him, you shake your head.

“I told you I didn’t like scary movies.” You mumble petulantly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“What if I distracted you during the scary parts?” He queries, thumb stroking along your jawline, well it didn’t take a genius to see where this was going, you nodded trying not to seem overly enthusiastic.

He leans down to kiss you, hand still cupping your jaw, his other arm cradling you about the waist. 

“Your heart is still beating so fast princess.” He murmurs against your lips, feeling him smile. “You should probably lay down, wouldn’t want you to faint.”  

“Smooth Munson.” You giggle but allow him to manoeuvre you into a lying position on the broken down couch, his hand snaking under your shirt to stroke at the soft skin of your stomach, feeling brave you run your hand down over his back, cupping his ass.

The film continues, completely ignored as you make out, the screams and shouts hardly registering; Eddie’s stuttering breaths and small groans filling your ears instead.

“Ed’s.” You say quietly after another 20 minutes, his attention now focused on your neck. “Did you - did you want to go to bed?” You stammer slightly. 

“You tired?” He asks in a daze, lips all pink and kiss bitten, cheeks flushed. You shake your head slowly, biting your lip.

“Oh.” Is all he says before his face splits into a grin, hauling you up, and kissing you hard once more as he leads you to his room.

  He switches on a side-lamp, illuminating the room in a soft orange glow, you stand nervously unsure what to do, the bed looking intimidatingly huge at that moment. Eddie notices the uncertainty in your expression, the boldness you felt in the living room fading fast, leaving you self conscious and overthinking once more.

“Hey. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do baby. We can go back to making out on the couch, believe me I won’t complain.” He says softly, giving you a small smile. 

You’re trembling slightly as you resolutely pull your shirt over your head, before pushing your shorts down, leaving you in your bra and panties. You physically see Eddie’s pupils dilate, and try not to laugh at him as he frantically strips down to his boxers, the pair of you staring intently at each other for a moment. Trying to stay brave you step forward into his space, fingers tracing over the exposed tattoos on his chest, noticing how his muscles jump at your touch. He’s mapping out your skin too, hands starting at your hips, thumbs running upwards until he hits a 2 inch scar on your right side near your ribs, curving towards your back, a repeated swipe acting as a question.

“Took a spill on my roller-blades when I was 7, fell into a picket fence, 10 stitches.” You mumble looking down.

“Badass.” He says with a soft smile, ducking to place a tender kiss to the raised line.

 You take his hand, walking backwards until your legs hit the foot of the bed, shifting yourself into the centre, removing your bra ignoring the rush of heat to your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful.” Eddie breathes, staring at you, eyes blazing. “Do you know how much I've thought about having you in my bed like this?”

You can only shake your head, chest heaving with nerves and anticipation.

He kneels on the bed, crawling over to you, lips hovering over yours, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Eddie.” You sigh so softly you barely hear it yourself, he captures your lips in a slow heated kiss, and you relish in the feeling of having him so close just two scraps of clothing keeping you from each other. It was brand new, compared to your previous rushed encounters, the notion that you could both take your time almost overwhelming. You take his hand in yours guiding him down to your covered mound, back arching as his fingertips make contact with your clit, every nerve ending already feeling shot.

“So wet sweetheart.” He murmurs, his tongue licking into your mouth as he gently circles your bud. You reach down to stroke at his cock, the room feeling overheated, your kissing and soft movements the only sound in the trailer.

“Ed’s, need you.” You whisper, unable to wait any longer.

“You have me baby.” He says gruffly, sliding your panties down your legs, and then discarding his boxers.

You blow out a shaky breath, completely exposed and wanting as he rolls on a condom, thighs quivering as you let them fall open, Eddie slotting himself back in between.

  He pushes in slowly, allowing you to feel him inch by inch, chest to chest, foreheads pressed together, fingers laced, lips moving as one. Eddie was more rocking than thrusting, neither of you wanting to lose contact with the other.

“Perfect, you’re so perfect sweetheart.” He sighs, hitching your legs up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to go deeper than you thought possible.

“Eddie.” You whine, neck rolling as he hits a spot within you that has you seeing stars. “So good.”

“My sweet little thing, god your cunt feels like it was made for me.” He moans, bracing your hands above your head, holding them to the headboard with just one of his, the other now at your hip helping you to angle up.

You can’t do anything other than undulate below him, nipping at his neck and chest, the sound of your body slapping together making fresh wetness surge from your pussy, covering his cock in cream.

“Ed’s, I'm so close, please.” You whimper, searching for his lips, the coil in your belly unbearably tight. 

“I’ve got you sweetheart, just take what you need.” He pants, thrusting in earnest, hand lifting from your hip to thumb at your clit, you unravel in a silent cry, tears wetting your cheeks from the intensity.

“Good girl, good girl.” Eddie chants, releasing your hands from his grip so you can hold onto his back, nails scratching down the skin. He grips the headboard this time, fucking you hard enough that the bed thumps dully against the wall.

“Eddie, fuck.” You cry as he pushes you through into a second orgasm, your walls clamping painfully hard around him.

“I’m gonna - fuck I'm gonna cum.” He swears, mashing his lips to yours, hips stilling, cock seated deep within your spasming cunt.

“I - fuck.” He huffs, effectively collapsing on top of you, head buried in your neck. You run your fingers up and down his spine, trying to get a handle on your erratic breathing. “I think I’m dead.” He groans.

“You don’t get out of the pact that easily, Munson.” You sigh, laughter rippling through you both, sending sparks where you’re still joined. Eddie holds himself off you, pressing a kiss to your nose. 

“Stop trying to kill me then sweetheart.” He nuzzles you, and it makes your heart sputter and jolt.

“We should get cleaned up.” You say, nudging him gently.

Eddie extracts himself from you with slow kisses, and delicate touches, rolling to the edge of the bed you assume to dispose of the condom.

He lays back down, drawing you in close.

“5 minutes sweetheart, just 5 minutes.” He breathes softly, tracing nonsense patterns across your heated skin.

“5 minutes.” You agree, already feeling your eyelids start to close. 

Taglist: @avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2 @eddieslildarling @bakugouswh0r3 @sidthedollface2 @81rain @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @winchester-angel @bimbobaggins69 @tuskjohnny

[ashisgreedy]

Professor Garreth Weasley x Female!MC

"A Potion Of You"

Tags|Contains: SFW | Fluff | Aged-up Adult chars like 21+ish | Old crushes die hard | Mutual Pining |

Word Count: 3,500 |Ch 2|

Chapter 1

The Three Broomsticks was more crowded than ever. She made her way into the bar, dodging and weaving people as she did. Her eyes scanned the patrons and landed on a familiar face.

“It’s been a while.” Sirona greeted her with a warm smile.

Her shoulders relaxed at the welcome sight. “Yes, it has.” She returned the smile, pulling Sirona into a friendly hug. 

It was warmer inside than it had been out in the cool night air. She welcomed the change of atmosphere, feeling the tip of her nose begin to thaw. 

“I didn’t think I’d see so many old faces in one night.” Sirona walked around the bar and waved her wand at the keg. “First round of butterbeer is on me.”

“Thank you.” She took a seat on the closest empty stool. “You said you saw other familiar faces here already. Do you know where they’ve gone? I’m supposed to be meeting up with some old friends but I’m a bit late.” 

She glanced around again but didn’t see anyone she immediately recognized. She figured everyone she used to know may all look much different anyway. They were older and more mature-looking now that they were proper adults and not children going through a slew of puberty symptoms. Regretfully, it had been years since she had last seen any of her Hogwarts friends. It’s not that she didn’t want to keep in touch. She did. But, her desire for adventure took her farther from the castle than she’d ever imagined. 

Her whole trip to Hogsmeade was a desperate attempt at seeking new opportunities. She wasn’t strapped for cash, but she was growing crazed for something new. The adventures she had as an adult were much less fun than when she was a teen. She grew bored of the humdrum and wondered if it would always be like that. 

When Amit saw her walking around town earlier in the day, she was promptly invited to the bar for drinks. Amit said a few others were in town for the weekend as well and that they should all meet up again for old-time's sake. It piqued her interest, of course. She wondered what everyone else was doing with their lives. She thought she could take some inspiration and find something she was passionate about like Amit had done.

She took a big swig of her butterbeer but she stopped when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hey, stranger!” Amit greeted. He patted her on the back a couple of times boasting a huge grin. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the door to make sure I didn’t miss your entrance!” He shouted over the growing volume of the crowd.

“It’s good to see you again, Amit! Sorry, I am late. I got caught up chatting with the vendor up the road.” 

Chatting was one way of putting it. Truthfully, she was prying to see if there were any odd jobs she could take. A missing item? A recent troll attack? A possible kidnapping of a precious family pet?? Even if the task was small she was willing to pounce on it, as pathetic as she thought that might be. 

“Not to worry!” He laughed. “Oh! Can we get another round please?” He gestured to Sirona.

Sirona nodded, pointing her wand toward the keg. Amit pointed up the stairs. “Want to come join us? We’re just up the stairs on the first landing!” He swayed as he pointed. 

“Amit, are you sure you don’t need a glass of water or something instead?” She teased, grabbing her things as she stood. 

“OH! Come on! When do you think I will get to celebrate like this again so soon?! It’s good to see some old friends!” 

She followed closely behind him as he ventured back up the stairs. She wasn’t too sure who exactly would be joining them and found herself quite curious suddenly. 

“I want you to know that I had full confidence you would be joining us tonight! Unlike some people...” Amit squinted at Leander in acquisition. 

When he stepped out of the way she was able to see the ragtag group Amit had managed to wrangle. Her eyes scanned left to right waving and smiling at everyone. Her gaze stopped on another familiar face and she froze. 

“H-hey!” He stood, flame-red hair a bit longer than she remembered. His shoulders were broader and his face was more defined, angular. “You made it!” Garreth walked over to her and stood in disbelief. She wondered if he was going to hug her, but he remained at a respectful distance.  

“Hello, Garreth! It’s been a while since I last saw you. I don’t remember you being so…” handsome “...tall.” 

“Ah, yeah” he laughed, foregoing the idea of hugging her after all. “That tends to happen when you get older.” He looked over at Leander. “For some of us.” 

“Hey! I’m average height!” Leander balked. 

“Please, sit with us!” A brown-haired woman gestured. She recognized her face but couldn’t put a name to it.

“Yes, thank you… uh.” 

“Violet!” 

“Thank you, Violet.” 

Garreth ran his fingers through his hair and pulled out the nearest chair. “Yes, please have a seat.” He waited until she sat before he moved back to sit across from her. 

She settled in while he took a huge swig of his drink, banging the empty mug down onto the table when he was done. Garreth’s maroon tie was already loose and the top button of his cream shirt was undone. She drank in the sight of him, noting all the subtle changes since she last saw him. It was much warmer on the second floor of the bar. Everyone else's coat was already hanging off the backs of their chairs and their scarfs were removed. 

“Here you are.” Sirona came up behind them. She began to set fresh mugs in the center of their table. 

There were five of them now, all sitting together around a large rectangular table. Amit set to her right while Garreth and Leander sat directly in front of her. Leander was seated between Garreth and Violet. 

“What round are you guys on?” She asked, realizing just how flushed everyone looked. Amit was giggling at something Leander whispered. 

“What does it matter!” He threw his hands into the air. 

“One too many.” Garreth teased, pulling Amit’s new mug away. 

“Hey! Give that back!” He stood and reached after his butterbeer. 

Leander stood, held out his hand, and made sure Amit didn’t fall forward onto the table. “Maybe some peanuts for the table?” He suggested to Violet. 

“Yes, let me go see if there’s a bowl nearby.” She stood, smiling at the guy's antics. 

Everyone already seemed to be in such a good mood. She hoped it would rub off on her. She couldn’t shake the antsy feeling. Even now, back at her old stomping grounds, she was restless. Years ago, this place would have been a respite from all the activities she was always doing. Now, it WAS the adventure. 

Garreth leaned toward her and spoke in a low tone. “I think he was here for a while before we got here.” Angling his eyes to Amit. 

Leander nodded. “Much earlier.” He joined in a low tone. “He’s on the verge of getting tossed out of here.” He jested.

Amit settled back into his chair when Violet brought over the bowl of nuts. “So!” Amit began, slurring a bit. “What have YOU been up to these past few years.” He clapped his hands together, narrowly knocking over the bowl. Violet caught it just in time. 

She cleared her throat. “Me? Um,” She scoured her mind for anything in her life that sounded even remotely interesting. 

“Yes! What have you been up to?” Garreth added. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

“Your hair is longer.” Leander pointed out. 

“I keep it shorter now than how I had it in school.” 

Leander squinted. “Then you style it differently… or something?” He guessed, tossing back a handful of peanuts.

Garreth shook his head with a sigh. His smile was contagious and she found herself grinning too. 

“Do you work at the ministry? Or do you have your own shop?” Garreth pressed eagerly. 

“Well, no. I mean, I did work at the ministry briefly.” Very briefly… barely 3 days. She wondered how many of her jobs she should raddle off. “And, I helped out at a shop near where I live for a bit.” One time. “But, right now I mostly do odd jobs here and there.” She rubbed her hands on her legs. Her palms had begun to sweat. 

Garreth nodded thoughtfully. “You haven’t found anything you want to stick with yet?”

“Not yet.” She pressed her lips together. She took a large sip of her butterbeer and used her finger to wipe away any foam. “What do you do?”

Garreth smiled and began “Well, I-”

“He's a big shot professor now!” Amit blurted out.

“Oh?” She looked back at him with an impressed look. 

“Yep!” Leander clapped Garreth on the back. “He’s the potions professor now.” His eyes held a prideful glint for his friend. “I know, shocker.”

“That’s impressive, Garreth! How do you like it?” She asked, leaning in with interest.  

Garreth shook off Leander's hand from his shoulder and grabbed a fresh mug from the center. 

“I love it!” His leg hit hers under the table and he sat up straight. “Sorry,”

“It’s alright.” She smiled, waving him off. “Tell us how you landed that position.” She sat back and took another drink of her beer. 

“Connections!” Leander blurted. “Luck! Possibly even liquid luck!” 

“Shut it, Leander.” Violet quipped, tossing a peanut at him. “Just because you needed liquid luck to get your job at the ministry doesn’t mean everyone else needs it.” 

Leander fished for the nut Violet had tossed at him and ate it straight away. 

“Connections or not, Garreth is a very talented potions master now!” Amit spoke up. He had begun to sink into his chair while his eyes drooped. 

“Oh really?” She met Garreth’s emerald eyes. 

“If you can believe it.” He smiled kindly and held her stare. She could swear she saw his face redden a bit. 

Garreth was always chipper in school no matter the circumstances. Now was no different. It seemed like he’d always have a cheerful air. That was why she always gravitated toward him during their school years. Even on the hardest days, she knew he would lighten the mood and her spirits. 

“I believe it. I am so happy for you.” She leaned forward toward him and Garreth mirrored her. 

“I could give you a tour of my classroom sometime. If, I mean, If you are going to stick around for another day.” Garreth’s eyes glittered as he smiled.

“Oh.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

“Of course.” He sat back up. “I didn’t mean to impose or-”

“No, no! You didn’t. I would love to see your classroom. I just hadn’t thought about where I’d stay.”

Garreth leaned back in, smiling brightly again. “I’m sure Sirona could set you up with a room tonight.”

“This is so cute.” Amit sighed. “I still ship it.” 

“What?” She snapped her head toward Amit and pinched her brows in confusion.

“Amit.” Garreth spoke his name sternly. She wondered if he used the same tone with his students when they acted out in his class. 

“Bah!” He waved his hand. “It was years ago!” 

“What was?” She inquired. 

“Nothing- Amit!” Garreth spoke over Amit as he began to ramble.

“Garreth used to be so hopelessly in love with you.” Amit sighed, clutching at his heart. “It was so cute listening to him go on and on about if he should ask you out or confess to you. He had so many plans to ask you on a date and not one time did he follow through.” Amit laughed. 

Leander nodded in agreement.

“Amit that's enough.” Garreth glared at Amit, desperation in his tone. 

“I had… no idea.” She kept her gaze down and readjusted in her seat. Her foot hit Garreth’s knee as she tried to cross her legs. 

“We always begged him to just ask you out already,” Leander added. “He was so annoying about it.”

“Please.” Garreth’s voice was quiet.  

“I think that's enough, you two.” Violet pushed the bowl of peanuts toward Amit. 

“Yes yes, sorry. But that was ages ago” Amit began. “I just thought it had been long enough that we could talk about it openly.” Amit gestured widely at the table. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“If you don’t mind, I am going to get some fresh air.” She stood, smoothing her skirt down. 

Garreth buried his face in his hands. 

“I’ll go with you,” Violet added. 

“No, no. it's okay. It’s just getting a bit stuffy in here.” She turned toward the stairs. Her steps picked up speed the farther she went. 

The night air blasted her face and she could feel the hot blush that had been crawling up to her ears. Despite it being Garreth that everyone teased, she felt just as flustered. 

She took deep breaths, allowing the cool air to fill her lungs all the way before she exhaled. 

It had been so long since she thought about how she felt back then. She and Garreth were inseparable their last few years at Hogwarts. She always suspected that he might have a thing for her, especially when he always had some kind of gift to give her. But, when he never pursued her, she let it go. She chalked it up to it just being a personality trait of his, being flirty and kind. Even if he was just that way toward her and no one else. 

She crossed her arms and moved out of the way of the door to let people pass. A pang of regret radiated through her. Maybe she should have been the one to speak up while they were in school. Maybe then she wouldn’t have had to go stag to the yule ball. Her eyes began to sting as she stared up at the starry sky.

“Can I join you out here?” Garreth’s voice came from behind her. 

She tore her eyes from the sky to where the voice came from. He had fixed his tie and put his coat back on. 

“Of course, you can join me.” She shot him a small smile. 

“I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable…” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m sorry for… all that.” 

“No, it’s fine, Gar.” His years-old nickname felt so natural rolling off her tongue despite it not being used in quite some time. 

“I want to make sure you are okay…” 

She nodded. “Thank you. I’m okay.”

“You got out of there pretty fast.” His smile faltered. “I felt the same. I’ve never wished for an invisibility potion more in my life.” His laugh sounded strained. 

“Oh? The new potion master doesn’t have every potion on him at all times?” She quipped, finding a bench to sit on. She looked over at him thoughtfully and then pat the seat next to her. Garreth quickly obliged. 

“That’s a great idea. I'll keep a bottomless bag of all my potions from now on. You never know when you might need them.”

She smiled as she looked down, digging her toes into the gravel. “Was it true?”

Garreth was silent. 

“Was any of it true?” She pressed again. “Did you really like me all those years?” 

He didn’t answer right away. He blew warm air into his cupped hands then fished through his pockets. “Is it okay if it is?”

“Garreth.”

He sighed, slipping gloves onto his hands. “It’s true… I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I never wanted you to feel that way around me.” 

“All those years? You liked me all those years and you said nothing?” 

His head dropped. Garreth licked his lips and nodded.  “I didn’t want to lose you… you were my best friend. I-”

The alcohol she’d downed earlier began to tingle in her head. She willed the butterbeer to help her calm down. She didn’t think she could handle her heart hammering any faster than it already was. 

“I had the biggest crush on you.” She rubbed her temples. Getting everything out in the air would be best. If this went south, It’s not like she lived here and she was going to bump into him again. She would get it out of her system at least. It was only fair since his dirty laundry was already aired. 

Garreth’s face lit up. “You did?!”

“I did. And, I always wondered if you felt the same way…” She clasped her hands together. “I mean I thought you felt the same… sometimes. But then you’d pull away again and I would be left confused.” 

A smile crossed Garreth’s face. 

“Did you doodle my name in your notebook?” He teased, relaxing more in his seat.

“Shut up.” She laughed, pushing his arm. “No, I didn’t.” 

“Liar.” He smiled so wide, his whole face lit up. “Well, that's too bad then.” 

“What is?” 

“It’s too little, too late. Right?” He put his hands behind his head and stretched.

“No... No. It’s not. Is it?” 

“It’s not?”

She shook her head. 

Garreth leaned closer to her. “So, if I asked you on a date tomorrow night, you would say yes?” 

“A date?” She searched his face to see if he was being serious. 

She studied him for a moment, bathed in the yellow glow of the lantern street light. Her eyes followed the curve of his ginger lashes as they curled upward, pointing to his well-kept brows. She noticed how the freckles closest to the center of his face were slightly bigger than the ones on the outskirts.

“Would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?” He spoke in a low tone. Not a hint of mischief in his words.

When she realized he was being serious, she nodded affirmatively. “I would love that.” 

Garreth returned her smile as a blush rushed across his cheeks. “I am so happy right now, wow.” He laughed. 

“Where are we going on our date?”

“Hmm,” He tapped his chin. ”May I keep it as a surprise?” 

“Sure. I’m fine with it being a surprise. Just let me know what kind of outfit I need to wear. I don’t want to wear heels if you’re taking me on a hike.” 

“Deal!” He agreed. “I’ll send you an owl first thing in the morning.” 

They sat for a moment in comfortable silence, gazing at each other. 

“This feels like a dream.” He reached over for her hand. 

She reached out, palm up, and accepted the gesture. 

“I can’t believe you liked me for so long and didn’t say anything.” She teasingly shook her head in disbelief. 

“I know. I was so stupid.” Garreth laughed. “I mean, if I knew what I know now, I would have asked you out ages ago. But…”

Her brows perked up as he fell silent. “But, what?” 

“I’m kind of glad we didn’t get together in school.” He rubbed his gloved fingers over the back of her hand.

“Why’s that?” 

“Because statistically speaking… we might not have still been together.”

“I see.” She leaned in closer to him, watching him trace the lines of her hand. The buzz from the beer had spread throughout her body. She felt warm under her winter coat.

Patrons continued to walk into the three broomsticks despite how late it was getting. 

“This place is pretty lively nowadays, huh?” She wondered out loud. 

“It really is. I think the population in the area has gone up a lot since we were in school. A lot more houses have been built.” Garreth bit his lip and dropped his gaze. Another group walked past them, laughing as they entered the building. “Would you like to go back inside with me?” Garreth asked. “Despite what happened at the end there, I was really enjoying catching up with everyone.” 

“Me too.” She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go back in with you.” 

“Awesome! We will just make sure Amit and Leander are cut off for the rest of the night.” Garreth stood and offered her his arm. 

She laughed with him, linking her arm with his. “Deal.” 

—-------

A|N: I saw lil-grem-draws post about Professor Garreth and was obsessed with the concept!

Also, HI I'm AshWren! This is my first fic in almost 4 years. I forgot how much fun it is to write!

Thank you for reading!

Read Ch 2 here.

[uptoolateart]

Thanks to @hailqiqi for tagging me about ten thousand years ago. I just have so much to do 😩 Anyway! The original post said:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Here we go!

Breaking Free - the whole series

I'm cheating here, because I'm listing a multi-book series, but I can't help it. I'm super proud of it. It started as a one-shot of Adrien and Marinette finding Gabriel's basement, and then it spiralled hard. It begins right after Strike Back. From there, it's a complicated, twisted and very bumpy ride.

'How did you think this up?' my BF beta has asked me many times. I don't know, guys. It just seemed obvious at the time 😆

This was my 'getting back into writing' book, after a lengthy creative hiatus / identity crisis. I churned out chapters because I needed to get back in the game and rediscover myself artistically. Then I went back and edited the whole thing a couple years later, to make it better (and expand it by about 20k words).

It became a series because I had requests for sequel scenes. Again, a couple one-shot ideas spiralled, and I merged them with another premise that had been kicking around in my head - Adrien, years later, trying to heal from everything as an adult and find himself as a father with his own teenage son.

That then spiralled again, and I ended up exploring Felix in depth, too, and pushing all the sentibeing stuff to extremes. The whole concept for Book 4 intimidated the hell out of me as soon as I thought of it. I was so worried I wouldn't be able to do it justice. Writing it was sometimes physical torture. But in the end, I think Book 4 contains what might be the best chapter I've ever written for anything in my life.

Still, the saga continues! Book 5 starts posting in 4 weeks. I've set myself another crazy challenge with that one, but I am determined to pull it off. I also have ideas for a few one-shots to collect in a volume I'm calling Book 6. The series is going to be like 700k words by the time I'm done. Maybe more. Will I ever truly finish this thing? I don't know. I fell so hard into the universe I created, and it's going to be hard to let it go. I fully expect to cry when I post the epilogue to Book 5.

Book 1 was also how I really got into this fandom and started making friends. Honestly, that book changed my life. Yeah...I'm gonna cry.

Dreaming Wide Awake

This was my follow-up to the S5 finale. The show is now going its own way, but I'm still so proud of how all the tension and emotions turned out in this fic. Again, the story is complex. It's also really surreal, and I think the battle scenes are some of my best. I was soooo nervous about the reader response to one of the big moments in it, but the unanimous reaction was everything I'd hoped for.

How the Heart Learns to Beat Again

A backstory from Nathalie's POV. It starts with her at age 25, as the sole survivor of an old magical order, going on extraordinary adventures seeking legendary artefacts. Then she meets the Agrestes, loses her magic, and gets roped into a new crazy world.

The story also explores Gabriel and Emilie, Colt and Amelie, and Adrien and Felix's creation / infancy. Book 2 (covering Emilie's death and how Gabriel and Nathalie start using the butterfly and peacock) starts posting on Monday. I think these fics are possibly the most mature writing I've ever done. There's a certain 'voice' to them that stands out from my other writing.

Finding a Way (Jurassic Park AU)

This is my most successful fic, so far. It's half goofy / romantic and half tense / action - with a lot of gore. I thought it would be total crack, but it took on a life of its own and became much more serious. There was something magical about how it all came together. I'm planning a sequel, but I need to get through a few other big fics first.

Voyage! Tales of the USS Miraculous (Star Trek Crossover)

This is so far from finished, but I'm having a blast writing it. It's basically all planned out and going to be mammoth when it's done. There's a little of everything in it, and you don't need to know Star Trek to understand it. I'm loving the reader speculations over what might be going on.

Okay! That's my list. Tagging @raspberrycatapult @kuromori4 @cardiac-agreste @mysticraven20 @trinketsinthesun @hamsteriffic @jigglypuff1994 @fandomofone

[greatwyrmgold]

A Practical Guide to Evil got a webtoon adaptation, and I read the first chapter out of curiosity. It's not bad, but it feels less like a comic book than a picture book.

PGtE, like many web serials, features an introverted protagonist whose thought processes and inner monologue are absolutely essential to understanding her and anything she does. And that's okay, because this is first-person limited text. When Catherine Foundling thinks about why she's doing all this crap, we get an inner monologue about her goals and motivations. It works!

Contrast that with, say, One Piece. I'm not sure whether we see a single thought bubble pop up over Luffy's head, but that's fine. As Catherine was designed for a web serial, Luffy was designed for manga, and we can understand him through his actions and the words he says out loud.

And even when One Piece focuses on a more reserved character like Nico Robin, it prioritizes visual storytelling. We need some thought bubbles to understand what Robin's thinking, but to understand why, we get several flashback chapters which explain that visually. Hand someone a copy of volume 41 in a language they don't read, and while many details will be lost, they will still understand the gist of Robin's backstory, because Eiichiro Oda tells his stories visually.

Ideally, PGtE the Webtoon would find a way to convert some of that inner monologue into something visual. A conversation, or flashbacks, or something. It kinda does the opposite, converting all of that into a text-box monologue (and removing a couple conversations from the web serial's first chapter which conveyed the same points).

Outside the fight scenes (which get a lot more space relative to everything else compared to the serial, but not in a way that adds anything except a couple cool fights and a boring battle), most of the story is told in text boxes with pictures attached. The pictures usually don't even add context or meaning to the text boxes. Any given phone-screen's worth has an okay balance of text to picture for an exposition scene, but it just keeps going on and on until you (well, until I) start thinking about picture books.

Picture books, like comics, are a visual medium. However, many are written by authors who assume their target audience doesn't care how well they use their storytelling medium to tell a story. In many cases, the entire story is told through the text; the pictures are there because the author figures the target audience won't be interested if there aren't pretty pictures they can look at.

That's the sense I get from PGtE's webtoon. It's not an artful attempt to tell the story in a new medium; it's trying to tell the story the same way, targeted at an audience which won't read books without pictures.

[samkiszkasfacialhair]

Choose the Road Chapter 2

Choose the Road: Chapter 2

Pairing: Sam Kiszka and Female Reader

Summary: A coming of age story about Sam Kiszka’s first love.

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of marijuana use. 

Word Count: 2k

November 2016:

Over the next few weeks, you and Sam spent more time together. Now that you knew about his secret spot, you joined him in the stairwell before class a few times a week. Besides, you were going to be late to class anyway, what was a couple more minutes?

Sam was surprised to see you at first, but after the first few times, he expected you. Eventually, you joined him every day. He started waiting for you before he smoked and started bringing fresh joints instead of half smoked, old ones. The two of you were joined by his friend Danny at first but Danny stopped coming as time went on. You liked when Danny came but you had to admit, you enjoyed that little bit of alone time with Sam more. Because as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you liked Sam and you knew it. You had a hard enough time admitting it to yourself so there was no way you’d admit it to him.

Thursday was detention day. You’d both get it and skip it together, returning to that one stairwell once a week at 2:30 to listen to music, smoke more, and talk. He showed you artists and songs he liked and made you listen to them. He would tell you the history and origins of the songs and he would turn up the volume all the way on parts he particularly liked.

He liked different stuff- mostly older songs or blues and jazz music with some rock songs mixed in. He didn’t really know any artists from this decade. Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, and One Direction were names he had never even heard of. But you had to admit, most of the stuff he introduced you to wasn’t half bad. A lot of it was actually good.

You did the same for him with the songs you liked and he would pretend to gag as soon as the songs started, earning himself a smack in the arm. 

He’d pull out the joints the two of you started earlier in the day and you’d finish them together. You talked about stupid things and brought snacks to keep you occupied. After a couple times, he started bringing you your favorites and you brought him his. He liked spicy stuff. His favorites were kettle cooked jalapeno chips. You’d get them in one of the school vending machines and surprise him with them. He would do a stupid exaggerated gasp and then give you what he brought you. He would hold it behind his back and make you close your eyes and guess what it was. It was the same thing every time but he loved the bit he had created.

Time went by quickly when you were with Sam and being with him was a great alternative to detention. After all, spending time with him was the reason you got detention to begin with.

Sam was easy to talk to. He knew about a lot of things. He had a sweet voice that was always warm and smooth. He was funny without trying and he had the best laugh that echoed through the stairwell. But the best thing about him was that he made you feel comfortable and appreciated. He made you feel like you mattered. Like you were the only person in the world. The only girl in the world.

You tried your best to hold back romantic feelings for him but it was hard after that kiss and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the same. 

Regardless of feelings, every week the two of you hid out under that stairwell and left around 3:30, when detention would be over. Sam always walked home and your parents picked you up. They never knew you had detention though. You and Sam both told your respective parents that you joined a club-  which Sam’s parents believed more than yours did. 

At the end of “detention” one day, your mom texted you that she was going to pick you up late. You sighed as you read the message from her, knowing you’d be stuck here by yourself for another half an hour.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, rolling up his headphone wires and putting them in the front pocket of his backpack.

“My mom’s gonna be late picking me up,” you answered as you typed a message back to her, not looking back up at Sam.

You could see him out of the corner of your eye. He was looking at you. He pursed his lips and moved his tongue over the front of his teeth like he always did when he was thinking hard. 

Just in time, before you hit send on the text back to your mom, Sam spoke.

“I, uh, I could walk you home. If, if you want?” he asked.

You paused and looked over at him. He was looking back at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Sure,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. Walking home with Sam sounded a lot better than sitting there by yourself.

So, you texted your mom that you had it covered and the two of you started walking. You alternated from walking on the sidewalks to walking the side of the roads as cars drove by. Sam stood on the outside and you stood on the inside, closer to the curb or grass.

It had rained earlier that day so the streets were wet and covered in fallen leaves of the warmest colors.

You didn’t talk much for the majority of the walk, only to tell Sam when it was time to turn a corner or cross a street. Mostly, you and Sam took turns stealing glances at each other and hiding your smiles. 

Anything you felt towards Sam was pointless though. Neither of you had mentioned the kiss since it happened. He didn’t make any moves and neither did you. You were pretty sure he was just happy to get the whole “first kiss” thing over with and just continue as friends after that.

When you got to your neighborhood, you both walked through the middle of the street. Frankenmuth was a quiet town and there weren’t really any cars that pulled through your neighborhood- maybe only one or two. 

As Sam walked, he started kicking a rock and he got a little ahead of you as he chased it. 

Your eyes scanned his body up and down. You liked his legs. They were long and skinny, but as he walked, the jeans he wore pulled tight around his thigh muscles and butt, which was small and cute. He wore brown high top vans with taco socks poking out of the tops. 

That was yet another thing you liked about Sam. He dressed how he wanted and he didn’t care what anyone thought about it. 

After some time, he abandoned the rock that once kept his feet occupied. He slowed back down and you caught up to him so that you were both side by side once more.

After a minute, Sam broke the silence.

“So,” he began, “I need your advice,” he said, looking down.

“Sam Kiszka is asking me for advice?” you teased. 

He pushed into your arm playfully and you leaned sideways slightly from his push.

“So I, uh, I like this girl,” he said shyly.

Your heart dropped. Of course he liked someone else. You should’ve seen this coming.

“Mhmmm?” you hummed.

You weren’t really sure what to say to him. You didn’t want to sound sad or disappointed. Out of your own jealousy, you weren’t exactly happy or excited for him. However at the same time, you did want to know more. 

“See the thing is,” he continued, “I can’t really tell if she likes me back. I think you know her though.”

You looked at him. He was still looking down with his hair covering his face from you. You caught a glimpse of how the sunlight highlighted his hair. He had little blonde and red streaks in it that were normally hidden in the mass of messy brown waves that just touched his shoulders.

“Okay?” you replied, stretching out the word, hoping he’d just get on with it. 

Sam continued, “She’s, uh, she’s pretty. She’s the kind of girl who’s pretty without makeup, y’know? She makes me laugh and she’s nice too,” he explained, “There’s times where I feel like people forget about me, but not her. She always… makes me feel important. Y’know?”

He pulled his lips to the side and pursed them again, holding back a smile. Whoever this girl was, she made him happy that's for sure. 

He continued, “She, uh, she sits in front of me in physics. She passes papers back to me sometimes.”

Immediately, you stopped walking while he continued on, passing you and rambling on.

You sat in front of him in physics. 

You passed papers back to him. 

You were this girl he was talking about. 

You were this girl that he liked.

“Sam,” you said in hopes of getting his attention.

He turned around, now about ten feet away in front of you. His face was full of nerves and at this point, he knew you caught on to his hints. 

“So, do you know her? You think she likes me back?”

“Yeah, I know her,” you said quietly, “And, and I know she likes you back.”

His face relaxed a bit. Not a lot, but just enough so that the look of panic was no longer on it. 

“Do you think she’ll kiss me again?”

“If you want her to.”

“I want her to,” he said as he walked closer to you. 

You reached your hand out to him, “Come here then,”

He grabbed your wrist and you pulled him closer to you. You pushed yourself onto your tiptoes just a bit, lifted your chin to reach his face, and connected your lips to his. 

The kiss was soft and sweet but didn’t last long because Sam’s lips quickly spread into a smile and broke it. You gave him a couple more quick kisses before you pulled away from him and let go of his hand to continue walking.

He brushed his hand against yours once and then again a few steps later. The second time he did it, he grabbed your hand in his and locked his fingers in yours, swinging your arm with his as you walked. 

“So do you think this girl has jalapeno chips at her house?”

“That is a vending machine delicacy, Samuel,” you joked, “You gotta wait until next week!” 

Sam walked you home the rest of the way and up to your front door. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Sam,” you said quietly, not to bring any attention to your parents who were already home at that point.

“No problem. I’ll uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked with his hands in his front pockets, swaying back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels.

“Mhm,” you replied, smiling.

He nodded back and looked down at his feet for a second. 

The moment was a bit awkward. Neither of you exactly knew what an appropriate “Goodbye” was.  

He leaned forward and kissed your cheek gently, which even though he did it because he was unsure of himself, it was probably a good move considering your parents were just inside. 

“I’ll see ya,” he whispered with a smile as he parted from you and began to walk down the pathway which led back to the street. 

Holding back a smile, you went inside and shut the door behind you gently.

Through the blinds, you took a peek out the window to see Sam walking back down your driveway.

When he got to the street, he jumped in the air and skipped around for a second before gaining his composure to begin his own walk home. 

Taglist:

@marijuandasblog @dannythedog @musicislove3389

Chapter 3

[orchid-mantis-petals]

WHEN HOME BECOMES YOU CHAPTER 4:

/ Why hello again!! Omg a post before 12 am MST shocker!! But here she is in all her glory. Chapter 4. Finally things are taking off!!

/ Couple of prefaces before we begin: I don’t own Stray Kids. I just love them dearly and want you to enjoy them too. All of the work here in this blog belongs to me. Do not copy or steal my work. Lastly I know very little about motorcycles so don’t come at me if things are wrong. I’ll learn and fix them 💜💜

/ I would like to thank @maximumkillshot she has been an absolute angel guiding me this week. She’s helped move the chapters and timeline of this fic in a proper direction. (The motorcycle scene in here is her brilliant idea)

/ Genre: Angst, comfort, fluff

/ Warnings: Panic attack (Han), anxiety, yelling, mentions of sleep (or lack of), crowds, and as always swearing

/ Summary:

“Y/N, I need to protect them,” he motioned to the boys as a defense.

“Sure, in the studio, on the stage, but here in this moment that is my fucking job. Out here I am your shield, I am your protection. I am the reason you will get from a to b safe and sound. Use me for the skills that I have. You put yourself into danger back there Chan!! Don’t ever do that again!! You said you trusted me, fucking prove it yah?? Let me do my goddamn job. Got. It??”

Your last few months since your arrival in Korea was to build up the team you had been assigned. From the moment you were given the job you were told to build a team you trusted to protect a high volume client. Without hesitation you hand picked the team based on their background and skills. It took you two weeks just to pick out the team. The rest of the time you built them up. You hoped this team was one you could be proud of, if they weren’t you’d scrap them all. It was something you had warned them from the beginning. If they weren’t up to the task you’d cut them from your team. No hesitation. It was easy to see some of the younger men were startled, the ones closer to your age had an air of arrogance you couldn’t wait to knock down a peg. Finally the day came, just as you entered the JYP building for your own daily training you got the call. The clients had arrived back from their overseas schedules. You were to meet the leader and a few of his staff upstairs in conference room 4. You were glad to have packed your uniform in your gym bag. After a quick change you wandered up to the room. Around a large table you saw various sets of faces. Some you had met through your months here, some were new. With a gentle knock you pushed the door open and bowed to greet the room. All faces were turned to you at the door.

“Hello, good morning everyone,” in a moment they all stood, bowed and greeted you formally as you sat down in one of the chairs. Directly across from you on the other end was a man you had vague recognition of, but you couldn’t place where you had recognized him from. His broad shoulders, bare face, and shaggy curls really didn’t give you much inkling.

“Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Christopher Bang Chan. But by all means please call me Chan. Everyone else does. I look forward to working with you,” he was formal, though you weren’t surprised, he was the leader of an apparently world famous idol group. Formalities were necessary in professional environments like this. You enjoyed the refreshing professionalism and charisma that seemed to roll off him in waves.

“Thank you, Chan,” it felt slightly awkward as it slipped off your tongue but he didn’t protest so you continued. “My name is (L/N), (F/N). Please call me by my first name. Since we’re being informal,” you smiled at him, it seemed to ease a slight tension in his shoulders. At his relaxation you also took a deep breath. “Has JYP spoken to you about what is going on??” you wanted to gauge the knowledge he had on the security situation.

“He told me enough, but I would like to hear it from you as well. So that we are both on the same page,”

“JYP has hired the company I work for to become private security for his idols. While you and your band were in America I used that time to hand pick and build a team I have confidence will do their best job to protect you and your band. Here are the files on every member of my team. It includes background, training, and skills. My own file is in there,” he nodded as he took the papers from you. You watched as he slipped them into a bag at his feet.

“Would you like to meet the band?? I heard the rest of your team had today off. But as the leader I would like you to meet them. I think it would ease some of the tension of change if they had a face to see,” change was hard you knew that. If providing them a name and face would help ease whatever stress they had you would be happy to.

“My schedule is clear until we work tomorrow. I am happy to meet them,” with a nod you joined Chan as he stood. The rest of the people in the room idled before they too dispersed to finish whatever tasks they had been assigned for the day. It was a short elevator ride to the practice rooms and a quick walk down the hall.

“Between schedules you’ll likely find us here. I will be sure to get you my phone number so if you need to reach me at any point you can,” you nodded as he slid open the door to the practice room. The flood of noise that filled your ears was shocking. Within the room you could see bodies moving around to music that blared loudly over a set of speakers tucked at the back of the room. Some of the noise filtered from sneakers as they scuffed the floor, instructions that were shouted over the music. Or the occasional holler of one of the men as they enjoyed the energy. It was refreshing to see such a lively attitude from how long you’d been on a strict schedule for your team. “Boys!!” Chan called above the music. You watched as all eyes moved to the two of you at the door. Whoever was closest to the radio moved to pause the music. Once it was Chan moved to stand by the boys. “Line up,” it was easy to see how quick he took command of the room. All of them, eight with Chan lined up in a row as Chan began a countdown “1, 2, 3, Step out, hello we are Stray Kids,” all at once they bowed hands creating a gesture you knew was likely unique to their team. After they greeted you it was your turn.

“Hello,” you bowed, low and formal. “I am (L/N), (F/N), please feel free to call me Y/N. I am the leader of your new security team. Come tomorrow I will begin my job of protecting you,” as you lifted your head your eyes met those of someone familiar. In a moment it all came crashing back. It was no shit the name Chan, and Stray Kids was familiar. Right there, three feet in front of you. There he was, the man with the dreamer eyes. It seemed he recognized you too. His jaw slack as he stared, as though it was unbelievable to have found you here. It wasn’t his face, more so his reaction to recognizing you. In a moment you covered your mouth as a fit of laughs wracked your chest. “I am so sorry,” you apologized as you turned your back to them and laughed harder. It was soon another laugh filled the room as you turned back to look at the group. He too had begun to laugh along. It had left the entire room in a state of confusion. The rest of the boys looked as though the two of you had gone mad.

“Chan, this is the security guard from America,”

“The one who saved you??” the two of you managed to collect yourselves as you both faced Chan.

“The very one, she dove between me and STAY to get me free. She said she had to kick me to do it,”

“She kicked you?!?!” oh maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, the entire room shifted. The young man who shouted glared daggers at you now. That really wasn’t the first impression you had wanted to go for.

“Guys, guys she had to. She didn’t even kick hard. It was just enough force to get me loose from the crowd. Even came to check on me after the show. Y/N is a life saver,” that seemed to ease the tension of the room. But you could see your welcome was now unwelcome by some.

“It's nice to meet you, I better go,” before you slipped out of the room you made sure to bow, providing them with the utmost respect before you exited the room. Back to your original plan of the day you spent the next few hours down at the gym. Your interaction from earlier was good fuel to your boxing set that was prime overdue. After you logged the four hour set, and reminded yourself you would have to remove a set from a different day to give yourself some reprieve it was time to go home. A quick shower and a fresh set of clothes under your riding gear and you were on your way. Fate wasn’t really on your side today it seemed. Just as you settled your backpack on you heard the now more familiar shouts of Stray Kids as they entered the parking garage. All noise stopped once they had spotted you though. With a sigh you turned, giving the group a polite wave before you returned to set up the navigation on your phone.

“Y/N,” the deep trill of a soft voice at your side called your attention. When you looked up you found one of the members now beside you. You had left the room so fast you hadn’t even bothered to learn the names of the men you’d be protecting. Now, stood before you was a blonde man, with the prettiest freckles that fanned over his nose and cheeks.

“Yes,”

“Felix,”

“What's up Felix??” oh, the way he smiled at you when you called him by his name. It settled a warmth over your soul, lit into a gentle blaze as you looked into his eyes.

“Well, we were just admiring your motorcycle. Changbin over there really likes the color. You see, he kinda has this thing for pink,” you gaze shifted away from the blonde to the group. Changbin, was he your dreamy eyed man?? “He’s the big buff one,” Felix kindly pointed out as you looked at the group. So he was, you took mental note. “Anyway, he’s really shy. But I think he'd like it if you would talk to him,” when Felix smiled at you like that, how were you supposed to say no.

“Sure, I was just thinking I needed to learn everyone's names,” as you stood you moved to put your helmet down, having decided that morning to attach a set of fluffy rabbit ears on it for a fun effect.

“Wait, please bring the helmet,” quizzically you raised a brow to Felix, ‘why’ painted all over your face. “Bin, he likes cute things. I think it will make him blush,” oh, he was trying to tease his friend. “He likes you, hasn’t stopped chatting about the security guard from America since the day you saved him,” so the helmet would come with.

“Okay, let's go,” you smiled at Felix. You giggled as he beamed back, before you could stop him his small hand wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you forward to the group. With your helmet in hand you followed him, wary of the daggers that now bore into your face. The same man from before stared at you with a narrowed gaze, a shiver zipped up your spine. He clearly wasn’t your biggest fan.

“Guys!! Y/N didn’t get to learn our names!!” Felix called as he planted you in front of the group, he was kind enough to stay at your side when he dragged you over.

“Ah, well I know Chan’s from our meeting. And now I know yours Felix,” your gaze moved along the group, a few stood rather defensive but you wanted to try something to break the ice. “Felix said your Changbin??” you tilted your head as you eyed the man, when you had first met him you were in such a hurry you didn’t get much chance to take him in. Now, it seemed you would have all the time in the world. One thing that didn’t change though was the deep pools that were his eyes. What secrets they held, what things they saw. So much the same as the first time you saw them. “It’s really nice to finally have a name to go with that handsome face,” maybe you stroked his ego but damn was it worth it when the effect was so immediate. His cheeks flared in a deep red, you could even see it run over the tips of his ears. Felix doubled over with laughter at your side.

“Oh she’s funny,” the man that stood by the one currently ready for your demise spoke up as he giggled. “I’m Han, behind me is Lee Know,” right Han, and Lee Know.

“The others are Seungmin, Hyunjin, and I.N.,” Chan introduced the others as they seemed distracted in their laughter.

“It is nice to finally meet all of you. I will see you in the morning at the airport,” you bowed once more as you lifted your helmet up from your side and onto your head. All eyes shifted from you to Changbin as one of the fuzzy ears flopped down to the side of your helmet giving a droopy look to one and a half droopy to the other. You swore his cheeks got darker in mere seconds. You made a mental reminder to thank Felix for the icebreaker he provided. As you were on your way you circled the boys on your bike as you gave them one last wave of the night.

****

When morning arrived the next day Chan wasn’t sure how much sleep he had gotten the night before. After he made sure the others had gotten home safe he locked himself away in his room to work. Sure he could have gone back to the studio but they had a 5 am flight to Japan for a broadcast. If he had stayed at the studio he would have missed the flight. So he stayed home. He made sure the others got sleep, and that he got some. Before it had gotten too late he made sure to send you an email of the next month's schedule. Come morning he had downed two cups of coffee just to get his feet out the door. All bags were packed and settled by the door. With three broadcasts in Japan, and an awards show, they’d be there for a week before they’d come back to Korea for another session of broadcasts.

“Morning,” he looked up to find Changbin in the doorway of the kitchen, his broad frame leaned against the wood.

“Morning,” he greeted back as he looked at his watch, ah it was time to go.

“Cars loaded, staff are waiting for us,” Chan nodded as he settled his cup into the sink. He’d take care of it when they got home next week. As soon as the eight of them stepped into the parking garage you were there with the team you had cultivated. Chan hoped that he wouldn’t have to witness the skills you so cleanly listed in everyone's files. Especially today, 4 am was far too early to have to deal with a crowd of people. Chan especially knew how easy it was for Han to have an anxiety attack when he was tired. The freshly risen boys were an easy target for any possibility, Chan knew that all too well. When you stepped up you nodded short but sweet, then you turned to address the entire group.

“Dispatch has leaked today's flight schedule. Airport staff called the company early this morning. STAY is here, and they are wound up. I asked airport security to give us additional support as we go in. They have also notified me they have barricades set up to keep STAY pushed back. It will be loud, and I will keep a fast pace through here. Staff have already been sent ahead. I need you to trust me here, no matter what happens have faith that my team will handle it,” Chan watched his boys, their faces turned serious as they listened to you, even Lee Know was pulled into your instructions. Though he knew it was more so he knew Han and the rest would be alright. It had been a long time since he had felt so at ease with a set of security. Your attention to detail when it came to their safety was more than just a little refreshing. . When they were ready Chan let you know, he had faith in you. It was easy after you had shown such protective instincts with Changbin in America.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” you nodded as you guided your team into position With the added help of the airport staff Chan watched you work your magic. You had all of them line up single file as the security team surrounded them. Changbin took the front.

“If at any point you need one of us closer grab our shirts. We’ve got you,” you assured as you took your place at the back, Chan right in front of you. With a deep breath he followed the line you created with them. For once he felt like they could make it out of this with minimal damage. Wishful thinking, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy as soon as they entered the airport lobby. From the second the doors opened he could hear STAY scream out for them. Lights flashed bright against his eyes. He was glad to have brought sunglasses with him. Chan let your team guide them up to the security entrance, beyond that they would be safe from the roaring crowd that surrounded them. Just feet away from the security gate his hopes were dashed. One of the barricades hadn’t been properly latched, in seconds it swiveled open, then toppled over by the overzealous fans eager to get closer to the boys. The loud sound drew the attention of the two men that were at Han and I.N.’s side. It created a gap, a gap that allowed STAY to get close, too close. In seconds Chan moved to protect the two younger members of his team. In the gap he could see two young women reach out to grab them, they snagged at Han’s clothes, aimed for I.N. 's hat. But before he even had the chance to set foot in front of the women. Before he could even use his own body to protect his boys, you were there. Right in front of the two young women. With gentle hands you guided them back to the barricade as the rest of your team tightened up around the boys.

“MOVE IT,” you barked over the noise of the room, and suddenly they were pushed forward to the security gates, each of them guided through the check and beyond the lobby. The silence that fell on them was deafening, Han was tucked into Lee Know’s side noise canceling headphones tucked tight over his ears. I.N. had shakily hidden himself against Hyunjin who also looked unnerved by the situation. So much had happened all at once Chan wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Truly he just wanted his boys to be okay. In seconds he moved to look after Han and I.N.

“Christopher Bang Chan,” all attention shifted to you, even his. After all, you just used his full name. But he couldn’t deal with whatever you had to say. Not when he saw Han’s shoulders hunch forward as Lee Know guided him down into a seat. The young man was clearly on the verge of an anxiety or even panic attack. He needed to make sure he was okay first then he’d face whatever you had to say.

“Hold on,” he added in a calm tone, body turned to Han.

“Sit. The. Fuck. Down,” oh, you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Chan turned to you his brows furrowed, the first thought that crossed his mind was how dare you speak to him like that. But then he saw you, shirt rumpled from what he assumed were fans. Eyebrows' downset eyes held a fiery gaze, one he did not question. Whatever retort he had died on his tongue as he sat in one of the chairs. “What the fuck was that?!?! Huh!! I explicitly remember telling you to trust me. That wasn’t trust Chan,”

“Y/N, I need to protect them,” he motioned to the boys as a defense.

“Sure, in the studio, on the stage, but here in this moment that is my fucking job. Out here I am your shield, I am your protection. I am the reason you will get from a to b safe and sound. Use me for the skills that I have. You put yourself into danger back there Chan!! Don’t ever do that again!! You said you trusted me, fucking prove it yah?? Let me do my goddamn job. Got. It??”

“Yes ma’am,” you were right, he interfered with your job. He put himself in harm's way. While he decided it was okay to do that, he was then quick to realize his decision could have made things so much worse for his members. That it had made things worse for you. He heard snickers from the other security members behind you, he felt whatever shame that settled into the pit of his stomach was deserved. That was until he watched you wheel around onto them.

“What the fuck are you all laughing at!! At least he had the balls to step up and protect his team. I will ask you the same thing I asked him,” Chan had to admit the way you took command of the room from your stance and voice alone was terrifying, having seen this side of you he vowed to never experience it again. “What the fuck was that?!?! I spent the last few months training you fools to be a near perfect team. But I can see now that you may not be up to the task. You left them wide open. You allowed those girls to get close. TOO CLOSE,” he wanted to ask you to not shout, for the sake of his boys but words wouldn’t form on his tongue, in awe as he watched the grown men in front of you, men near double your size cower before you. Not unlike he did when you scolded him. “You do not get another chance, if you want to be part of this team you will prove it to me in Japan. If you don't, the second the wheels touch down in Korea, you’re done. I have people more eager to prove themselves than you. So prove it to me you deserve to be on MY team. Got. it??” Silence fell upon the room, the same questions you asked him had been asked to your team, and they answered much like he did. After it was said and done your shoulders dropped with a deep heavy breath.

****

You ignored your team, and Chan as you stepped over to Han. You had felt bad for shouting when the young man was in obvious distress. But in order for your point to come across you felt it was necessary. Gently, as to not startle him you knelt in front of Han. Above you, you could practically feel Lee Know growl. You assumed he allowed you to get close under the guise of your job. For that you were grateful

“Han, can you breathe with me,” with Lee Know occupied keeping him upright, you used the space to help guide Han to slower breaths. You rested his hand over your collar bones, it allowed him to feel the full breaths you took. Slowly you guided him back to a gentler rhythm. “Good job,” you coaxed further until his watery eyes met yours. “I saw what happened, did you get hurt,” when he shook his head you released the breath you held. “That’s good. I am so sorry that happened to you Han. I failed you today, will you allow me the chance to prove myself to you,” you smiled when he tried to protest your failure, but his eager nod proved you had at least earned his trust in some capacity. “Thank you,” slowly you settled his hand back into his own lap and stood. “I’ll make sure you get water on the plane,” you nodded to Lee Know who nodded back. Progress, you hoped so. With that in mind you wandered to I.N. the young man was tucked into Hyinjin’s side, head buried in his shoulder. Seungmin was right beside him, hands settled into his hair as he coaxed him to stay calm.

“He’s okay,” the taller of the three remarked as you knelt down.

“I.N. are you hurt??” you asked anyway, you needed to hear it from him yourself. When he nodded you saw the older two become more alert. Calmly you looked at them to settle, the only way he’d say is if the room is calm. “Tell me where please,”

“They grabbed my hair,”

“Okay, may I look??” With permission you rounded the chairs to have a look at the youngests scalp. Nestled in the coarse thick hair you noticed a couple small scratches, and some bruising. “On the airplane I will personally get you an ice pack,” you stated before you moved around to report your findings to the three huddled boys. “Unfortunately I.N. I failed you today. Though small, I did find scratches on your scalp, and small bruises. I am so deeply sorry for my failure today. In my arrogance to have you trust me, you got injured. I promise, if you allow me to continue to I will do better, I will protect you,”

“No!! No!!,” at first you thought he was protesting your protection, part of you didn’t blame him. “Y/N you were amazing back there!! You did exactly what you were supposed to. Han and I came out mostly unscathed because you did an amazing job. And you managed to put our sometimes idiot for a leader in his place. Thank you, please keep protecting us,” you chuckled and nodded to him.

“If there's no objections, I’ll stay by your side. I will prove to you each and every day I am your shield,” when silence fell over the room you moved away your own nerves frayed from the experience. You sat in your own chair a decent space away from everyone.. It didn’t go unnoticed it seemed. Soon the seat beside you was filled. Changbin occupied the space next to you. His hands settled over yours as he lifted them. The slight tremble in your fingers had him frowning.

“I heard you scold my leader, your team, then check on Han, and I.N. But what I didn’t hear was, if you are okay??” you shifted your body to look at him, his hands were so warm against yours. It soothed the last little shake in your fingers.

“I am, thank you Changbin,”

TAG LIST:

Tag List: @taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

[rmorde]

Trigun Manga Reaction

Continuing with Volume 1, Chapter 10!

SOOOO CUUUTTTEE!!!!! Let me stare a bit first.

...

...

...

OK! I'm good! Wait... Arcadia? Huh? Noooo! Does this mean no Woof Woof yet?!

I wonder if the font for the letter in original Japanese is different too. I always like it when this is done instead of using "quotations". It's a nice touch.

Seems like the focus of this chapter are our dear insurance ladies. Love love Milly's devotion in whatever she does. She always strives to do her best in her job, but this dedication to write to each relative she has every month is just something else. I also appreciate how she is kinda treasured for her sweet nature - from Meryl's clear guidance and their boss radar gift.

Ah, Meryl. Ask for chaos and you shall receive. LMAO. However, does she have some problems at home. Just going by her lines here.

OMFG. BWAHAHAHA!!! THESE TWO PAGES!!! 😂🤣😂

I really need to buy hard copies of the manga. This must have been a page turner shock. It looks so serious from one page, but when you go to the next? HA! IT'S VASH GETTING BULLIED BY TWO SENIORS INTO BECOMING THEIR MEAT SHIELD!!! It's such a clever and funny layout.

Admittedly, this was a bit of a busy page. However:

One of my fave drawings by mangakas are when the "break out" objects or characters from the traditional panels. That gun sticking out has a nice 3D like effect.

Speedlines to show how quickly Vash went into for real real meat shield mode for the old couple. Meanwhile, that clear drawing of his hand feels like he is about to take out his gun.

Gun and nail details and... Have I mentioned before how I never really understood the beauty of negative spaces until I started reading this manga? Just something that hit me is all.

THE INSURANCE LADIES TO THE RESCUE! ROFL! Poor Vash getting bowled over. Poor Vash's spine!

Oh my.... Let me just appreciate this for a while.

They're just so beautiful. Oh my goodness. Again let me just gush about how the volume insanely Nightow is at visually communicating scale? Not to mention clothing folds and drapes!

Another fine specimen of scaling and foreshortening! And.. did Meryl just called Vash BROOMHEAD?! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Man's got a point. Unfortunately. Poor, Vash.

BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! I CAN'T- I JUST CAN'T!!! Everyone just rolls with it for the greater good while Vash is just stressed! 😂🤣😂

Interesting set of panels:

Again with the negative space

Awww! Milly's sweet tooth and where is she exactly? I can't remember, but she must be from somewhere really stable/rich, right? I mean her family sounds big which indicates their location can support a big population. Plus, the food the she often mentions are not exactly easy to get.

Vash looking for an escape or is it?

Oh, Meryl. I love you and you usually hold the brain cell, but this one time you had been fooled! Grandpa used everything you told them earlier to lay a trap! MERYL, YOU WERE OUTPLAYED!!!

Uhuh? Oh, really? The blush makes me think she didn't think this through and is scrambling for an excuse pronto.

Also, again with that negative space! Nice because it really helps with this "transition" in the next page.

They are walking under a clear blue sky. Idk why it matters a lot to me but it does. It feels "smooth".

Huh... I wonder if Tristamp took queues from this one when they animated Meryl's joy in seeing the garden in Episode 9.

Exposition can be a slog to go through *cough*jjk*cough*. However, this exchange was not overwhelming. The lay out really helped. While some panels/boxes have overtaken by speech bubbles, there are plenty of blank spaces to make it easier on the eyes. It properly built up the last panel which made it more impactful.

This is so lovely to read and the composition is just beautiful.

Again with that negative space. There's a lot of it in the manga I realize.

It's odd to see Meryl without earrings.

Investigative Meryl Mode!

Huh?

And there we go, the rest of the Nebraska Family.

Obviously, this went really differently from the '98 anime. I don't know why I expected Woof Woof already when it's already been made obvious that both anime adaptations shuffled events around.

However, I really appreciate how Meryl and Milly got the spotlight early here. In '98, this was kinda halfway through the series. It was way waay late and Woof Woof already entered the scene.

I must say... '98 really had to get creative with the material that they had because the BDN's Arc was covered from Episodes 7-8. Then Episode 9 introduced Wolfwood. From 10 to 12 were anime originals... I think. Not yet far enough in the manga to know if they were "remixes".

Anyway, the fillers in '98 are not bad and plenty entertaining. Some of the funniest shit and badass scenes of Trigun were from those. They were great addition to the story especially since it never contradicts the characters core (sans the horn doggy-ness).

But it does screw over Wolfwood tho... just a tiny bit on hindsight. I mean if '98 is judged on its own, he is perfectly fine. However, with Tristamp giving his background (which I believe is more loyal to the manga), it is kinda odd how he didn't stuck with Vash after they met in the bus. Then again, Woof Woof has a bit of a different background in '98 which made sense... Kinda.

Augh the challenges of adapted of an on-going manga. Studio Mad had to make things up as they go, but they still did great! The inconsistency with Wolfwood is pretty minor - almost negligible... except why didn't he stick with Vash the first time? Sigh... this may nag me for a while.

Oh. Also for @revenantghost

Ok. Now I'm more excited to see more with the manga's plants.

Sorry for the confusion! When I said I prefer the 9o's version of plants, I'm mainly referring to the lightbulb design which fits the vibes of the plant angels more. It's very magitek which I really like while Tristamp uses tanks which totally make sense since its more sci-fi heavy.

The interesting thing about the plant design in Tristamp is how I can associate them with earth, sky, and water. Earth because of how they remind me of faeries, Sky because of the wings, and Water because they give me mermaid vibes as the live in their tanks. It has its own charm... but yeah magic lightbulb angel ftw!

Again... my bad for not being clear. Sorry.

I do hope we see more of the Bad Lads and eventually BDN in Tristamp properly. HARD AGREE on some lore bible or art book from Studio Orange! I think there were some supplementary materials from the limited edition DVD release tho?

That's a good way to describe Tristamp - a love letter to Trigun itself. I also respect Nightow for just letting Studio Orange do its own spin. Most creators won't be so comfortable giving other free reign in their sandbox.

Also, take good care of yourself. Make sure to get rest enough. And food! Also water!

[mrs-santoss]

Love at First Sight - Neymar Imagine - Chapter One

Summary: Y/N is scared to fall in love. She fell once, and it was a nightmare. She can't risk it again. But, this lucky boy manages to steal her heart, but unfortunately, manages to break it at the same time. What will Y/Ns decisions be?

I got employed as a medical team doctor for PSG, I start work today. I'm kind of nervous of what's about to happen. I think of all the possibilities, mostly negative ones. I worry if communication with the players will be an issue, because I speak good french, however, it's not my first language. I'm also fluent in English and my native language, Portuguese. I arrive at the stadium. I'm supposed to be present during daily trainings, also. I park my car and go to the main office. I check into work and grab my equipment and make my way to the field where the players are already training. The moment I step on the field, I feel eyes on me. This makes me feel so anxious and it's not helping at all. I know some of the players because I watch football, however, they all looked like strangers to me at that moment. I approach one of the coaches and introduce myself, he was expecting me. I shake his hand and smile. He begins to explain all the responsibilities I have during daily trainings. I'm supposed to monitor the healing process of the players that are injured at that time. Before I applied, I spoke to a couple of people who used to work here. They only said good things about this job, making it easier for me to decide. They told me that the players and the staff tend to be very friendly through everything. Obviously, they except you to give your best performance, but still want to keep a healthy relationship between people in that environment. After a few minutes, some players come up to me to introduce themselves and get to know me. This guy, who's face looks extremely familiar approaches me first. "Hi, I'm Neymar. Nice to meet you!" he says to me, and extends his hand. "Hello, Neymar. I'm Y/N, the new medical team assistant. Nice to meet you too!" I say back to him and I smile. He can tell my hand is shaking from the emotions, so he gives my hand a light squeeze before he releases it. "I guess you will be seeing this guy in your office a lot then. Aahahaha!" this other guy says, making everyone laugh and approaches me. "Hi, I'm Kylian. Nice to meet you, do you speak French?" he shakes my hand and asks. "Hi, Kylian. Nice to meet you too. Yes, I do." I say the last part in french. There's one last guy left to meet me from the three of them. As he's reaching to shake my hand. Neymar says to him in a low volume "she's extremely beautiful, oh,my god." in Portuguese. He responds back to him "yes, she is." and then turns his head to me and shakes my hand. "Hi, I'm Thiago. Nice to meet you" he says to me in a broken English. I shake his hand. "Hi, Thiago. Nice to meet you too. You can always talk to me in Portuguese." I say back to him and smile, I look at Neymar when I say "Portuguese" because a want to see his reaction of me understanding what he said a few seconds before. He looked shocked and started turning red immediately. Thiago starts laughing and explains the thing to a curious Kylian. The all laugh together aside from Neymar who's still a bit shocked. I hear my name being called by the team and I excuse myself from the three guys. I grab the equipment bag and hug everyone goodbye. "See you all around guys. Thank you for welcoming me" I smile and make my way to the bench. I decide to turn my head and take a quick look at the guys I left behind. Kylian was hugging Neymar from behind playfully and saying something to him while winking. I have to admit I felt butterflies. But, I can't let this distract me from my job, at least on my first day. He's cute, though. Very cute actually.

[miryum]

Sweetheart- Chapter 3 (finale)

Summary: Jason Todd finds himself in a Groundhog Day situation and it won't stop until he finds his soulmate who's going through the exact same situation. But will you two stop being idiots long enough to too see what's in front of you? Not even the author knows...

ao3 link

Taglist: @susvale

Warnings: Swearing (I think that's it? Lmk if you find anything else)

A couple days went by and Jason learned a number of things: 

Cass always woke him up and the conversation always turned back to Tim being the only sane one in the house, even if Jason started talking about cats

If you swatted Damian’s hand at the right moment, he wouldn’t steal your bacon

He always made the bet with you, no matter if he knew he was supposed to find his soulmate

In the library, he always caught you with a new book- whether or not you were adamant that you were still reading The Fault in Our Stars

He always got a 97 on the test, and you a 95

He didn’t want these Thursdays to end

Because if the Thursdays ended, then he would’ve found his soulmate. And he would have to leave you

Jason loved the witty banter. He loved the small touches you allowed him. He loved the glances the two of you shared at someone else’s joke.

He loved how he could get you to blush with a wink. He loved when you would whisper in his ear at lunch when it was too loud to speak at a regular volume. And Jason as slowly realised, he loved you. 

And he was terrified about it. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to find a soulmate and forget all about you. But then he thought of what Cass said. Whoever you want it to be, that’s probably them.

Maybe he should just suck it up and ask if your days had been repeating too. But he hadn’t noticed any huge changes in your days. Jason’s plan had been to analyse everyone he interacted with to see if they were different from the Original Thursday, but he’d been so caught up in daydreaming about you that he’d practically forgotten to.

“Jason?” A soft knock sounded on his door. “It’s me. I’m coming in.” Bruce slowly opened the door and stepped inside his son’s room. “Uh… how are you?” It was clear that Alfred made him come talk to Jason. “Dick and Cass have been worried about you. You seem more… distant today than you usually are.”

”Just thinking,” Jason muttered. He rolled over onto his back and glanced at Bruce. The teacher stood silently, crossing his arms. He knew Jason well enough to let him talk first. “About soulmates.”

Bruce raised a brow. “Does that mean you found yours?” Internally, he felt a swell of pride for his son. After all Jason had been through- his childhood, his depression, his trust issues- he deserved a soulmate. He deserved to overcome everything painful and be happy.

“I think I know who she is,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been reliving this Thursday over and over and there’s only one person I can think of.”

His father and teacher, in more ways than one, hesitated. Finally, he stated, “it’s Y/n.”

Jason took a breath, one that filled his lungs and forced him to feel the emotional weight on his chest. He exhaled and said, “yeah. Yeah, it’s her.”

Bruce cracked a rare smile. “I’m glad you figured it out. She’s good for you.”

“Yeah… she really is.” He couldn’t stop the lovesick smile that spread across his lips.

“Tell me about her.”

Jason wasn’t one for romantic words, aside from ones found in literature. Yet he couldn’t help but say, “I am a lovesick fool. One look and I am satisfied for the year. She has no idea what she does to me. Just to be in her presence is a gift I would fight for. One touch and she could… convince me to jump off a bridge! To love someone is terrifying, but I would face that fear a thousand times over just for her. Y/n is my… everything.” Just as he uttered the words, Bruce’s eyes flickered down to his wrist. 

“Well, I think you have your answer,” Bruce hummed. 

There, permanently tattooed on his wrist, were the numbers 95 and 97.

------

Similarly, you were having a conversation with Dick and Cass. Or, rather, they were trying to have a conversation with you, and you were stubbornly trying to read Hamlet. You had already finished The Count of Monte Cristo, per Jason’s recommendation, The Things They Carried, and All’s Quiet on the Western Front, both books that Jason had offhandedly mentioned months prior.

“Y/n. Come on, Y/n.” Dick pestered you relentlessly. “Who’s the soulmate?”

“I regret telling you this,” you said monotonously. 

“Just tell us!” You were surprised that Dick was your senior, considering the amount of whining that was coming out of his mouth. You told him just that.

“I don’t know!” You said, “you think I’d be sitting here, the fourteenth Thursday in a row, if I knew?!”

“Two weeks as a Thursday?” Cass grimaced in sympathy. “Sounds like hell.” 

“It is.”

“Who do you think it is?” Cass asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

You gave her a sheepish look. “Your brother?”

“Me?!” Dick exclaimed loudly, probably gaining the attention of Alfred in the kitchen.

“No, you fucking imbecile!” you cried out. “Jason!”

“Oh. Oh. Oh my gosh!” Dick looked like he had just received a puppy. “You guys would be perfect for each other! But you have to be careful,” he switched into big brother mode. “Remember to wrap it before you ta-”

“Jesus Christ, shut the hell up.” Cass covered her ears. “I’ve already gotten the talk from Bruce. Not something I need from you too.”

“You got the talk from Bruce?” You tried to imagine your collected economics teacher, ex-CEO of Wayne Companies, dad to three hundred children, awkwardly talking to his teenage daughter about her growing body. You desperately wanted footage.

“Not important,” Cas waved you away. “What is important is how you’re going to tell Jason.”

“But… but what if he’s not?” you whisper, voicing your fears. “What if I’m wrong and he laughs at me?”

“Then he’ll forget it the next day.” Dick shrugged. You hummed in consideration. 

“Y/n,” Cass took your hand. “What do you have to lose?”

“The love of my life.” You hadn’t realised you said it out loud until Dick gasped and Cass swore in surprise. 95 and 97 were etched into your wrist in a proud font.

------

“Get her flowers,” Tim said.

“Kill someone in her honour,” Damian suggested.

“Proclaim your love in front of the whole school!” Dick said excitedly.

“Just fucking tell her.” Cass tried not to hit any of her brothers. Honestly, sometimes she thought she was the only level-headed one in the family. “You already know you’re soulmates!” Subconsciously, Jason rubbed at the soulmark. He had spent all of last night staring at it, somewhere between blissfully happy and worried.

Bruce walked in and surveyed the room. “Girl troubles?” he guessed. “Speaking of Y/n, who I’m assuming the girl is, she’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

“I know!” Jason clenched his hair in frustration. For the past seventeen days you had been coming over for dinner and he was nowhere closer to telling you he loved you. Truthfully, he was terrified. Terrified that you wouldn’t accept him. Terrified that you wouldn’t want him as a soulmate. He didn’t even know if you knew you were soulmates!

Cass kept her mouth shut. Unbeknownst to Jason, you had revealed your soulmark to her, Kory, and Artemis that morning. You had explained the repeating Thursdays, but Jason had already filled the Wayne family in that morning. Apparently, Jason had been monologuing the same spiel to them for a couple days at that point.

But she wasn’t gonna tell Jason that. Where was the fun?

A knock resounded on the door and Alfred was quick to open it, greeting you in the process. Damian and Cass went to welcome you. Tim followed Bruce into the dining room.

Dick shot Jason a look that only the two oldest siblings could understand. Having been Bruce’s only children for quite some time, they had developed their own language of sorts. One that came in handy when they wanted to steal extra cookies from the kitchens or sneak into Bruce’s office when he was still CEO.

Jason, you need to tell her. Dick communicated. It’s unfair to her.

Jason glared back. I know that! It’s just…

You’re scared, Dick realised. 

Obviously.

Dick sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, a soft smirk brushing across his face. You don’t need to be, idiot. She’s the one for you. Your soulmate.

Jason swallowed and nodded. I know.

Jaybird…

Yeah, yeah, Jason conceded. I’ll tell her.

Thank god. I was getting tired of seeing you mope around.

Dick helped Jason to his feet and clapped him on the back. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dick. You’re a good brother.”

“I know.”

———

You tried not to make it obvious that you were searching for Jason the moment you stepped inside Wayne Manor. You had received a pep talk from Ms. Quinn and Dr. Isley about their own experience as soulmates. Seeing the love in their eyes had convinced you to tell Jason about your soulmark.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?”

You jumped. “How the hell do you always do that, Todd?! Stop scaring me!”

“Never.” The boy hugged you from behind, squeezing you tight. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Uh, sure.” You squinted up at him. He was acting… different from all the other Thursdays. Did you do something that resulted in this? “What’s wrong?”

Jason led you away from the prying eyes of his family. “Well, nothing’s wrong. Yet. All kinda depends on how you react.”

“You’re scaring me, Jay. Please just tell me?” You realised Jason still had yet to take his arm off your lower back. 

“Um, yeah,” he sat down on the couch and you joined him. “So, I don’t know if this has been happening to you or not, but my Thursday has kind of been…”

“Repeating?” you offered, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Yeah,” Jason studied your face, a blooming of euphoria caught in his chest. “You’re being serious?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” you whispered.

“To laugh at me?” Jason’s voice broke and you surged forward to hug him. 

“Never, Jason. I would never laugh at you.”

“Can I see it? Just to know.” He would never admit it, but unless he saw the proof, he wouldn’t believe it. He was still questioning whether this was all real. 

“Of course.” 

Almost hesitantly, Jason held your wrist so gently that you wondered if he thought you would shatter through his fingers. The 95 and 97 matched his. “It’s… it’s real,” he gaped.

“Yeah, Jason.” You had half a mind to laugh at his expressions but also knew the insecurity he was harbouring. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” he repeated.

———

The next morning, you woke in Jason’s bed, his arm curled tightly around your waist. You had spent the last night talking about everything and nothing. When Alfred had adamantly sent everyone to bed (having already called your parents to confirm your sleeping over), Jason had ushered you into his room and clicked on the bedside light. The conversation continued long into the night, slowly inching closer to each other as sleep took over. 

“Sweetheart, you’re staring,” Jason mumbled, eyes still closed.

You laughed quietly. “Can you blame me? I just found myself the best soulmate possible. And, it’s finally Friday!”

Jason hummed. “I would go through a thousand Thursdays if it meant I found you.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering, “cheesy.” Slowly, you extracted yourself from his arms. “I don’t have another pair of clothes and these are all wrinkled. Your siblings are gonna talk.”

“Like they don’t already suspect it.”

“Come on, Jay. Get ready for school. You still owe me a date on Saturday.”

“Nah,” Jason leaned up on his elbows to watch you fiddle around his room. It felt right seeing you in his bedroom. Like you were supposed to be there. A level of intimacy that didn’t feel unnatural. “I think I owe you seventeen dates. One for every single day I beat you.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “Yeah… you won. You got the higher grade.”

“Damn right I did.” You grinned and Jason demanded, “why are you laughing?”

“No reason. Just because I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early. 

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close. 

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked. 

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to. 

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is. 

Birdie. 

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?” 

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me. 

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie. 

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?” 

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.” 

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker. 

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The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project. 

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her? 

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me. 

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail. 

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her. 

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We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year. 

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always. 

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me. 

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers. 

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye. 

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight. 

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff. 

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head. 

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her. 

“Mhmm.” 

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly. 

I smile wide, now looking down at her. 

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out. 

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’  

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us. 

She pulls out her phone, tapping away. 

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection. 

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her. 

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste. 

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me. 

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?” 

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.” 

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.” 

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before. 

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.” 

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.” 

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach. 

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.  

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?” 

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.” 

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question. 

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?” 

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face. 

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp. 

“How can you possibly drink that?” 

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.” 

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids. 

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch. 

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.  

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all. 

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over. 

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches. 

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”  

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search. 

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable. 

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on. 

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small. 

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs. 

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud. 

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film. 

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips. 

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’. 

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 Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together. 

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner. 

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.” 

“Jeremy Allen White?” 

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone. 

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom. 

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low. 

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her. 

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine. 

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time. 

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get. 

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern. 

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again. 

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now. 

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out. 

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone. 

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot. 

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh. 

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion. 

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly. 

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk. 

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.” 

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.” 

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me. 

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front. 

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck. 

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window. 

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs. 

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair. 

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in. 

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet. 

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes. 

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime. 

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him. 

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic. 

 The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one.  He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?” 

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?” 

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth. 

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more. 

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes. 

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip. 

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table. 

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?” 

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing. 

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.”  I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.” 

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff. 

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch. 

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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