#the clearly 'testing the ink on my pen' scribbles at the top make me so happy

[thegalaxyinapaperbag2]

found this unbelievably cute interaction on a piece of paper while playing ultra deluxe

IMAGE TRANSCRIPT:

"Hi, Lonnie. I wrote this in first period and left it in your locker on the way to second. It's what all the COOL KIDS are doing, I've decided. Write me back. Also, here's an idea for something to draw: TWO CATS ON A MOTORCYCLE."

"Hey this is a good idea. What all the cool kids are actually doing is sending each other pages on their beepers. But we're cooler than them because guess what. They can't put this on a beeper."

[chiwhorei]

green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear. 

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally. 

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you. 

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you. 

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton. 

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise. 

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are. 

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet. 

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat. 

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.  

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day. 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused. 

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away. 

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move. 

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention. 

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations. 

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly. 

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question. 

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution. 

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom. 

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and  frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch. 

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs. 

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.” 

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot. 

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?” 

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked. 

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response. 

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank. 

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit. 

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat. 

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation. 

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot. 

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees. 

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy. 

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you. 

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out. 

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this. 

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts. 

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach. 

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[flannels-and-fannypacks]

Will They Won’t They | Part 2/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7.5k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears & ANGST

A/N: hey babes it’s drea posting :) i hope you enjoy this part as much as mimi and i did writing it! again, if you enjoy our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! and if you want to be updated, dm us to join our taglist! sending my love - drea :) 

“Come on, let me take you out! We need to get you a new outfit for the gig coming up,” Rose insisted, dragging you to her car. 

“Who said I was coming?” you frowned stubbornly, tugging your arms back but to no avail. 

“I did, now let's go,” she strongly urged, pushing you into the backseat while she hopped in the passenger side and Luke hopped in the driver’s seat. 

“Rose, he’s coming too! Oh, hell no!” you refused, giving the boy a pointed look. 

“Sorry (N/N), I can’t drive this car, it doesn’t have learner’s insurance,” Rose apologized. 

“Nice to see you Lady Bunny,” Luke grinned with a wink and you sighed. 

“Okay, let’s just get this over with, okay?” you prompted and Luke nodded turning the keys in the ignition. 

“Whatever you say bunny, you’re the boss.” 

“Would you stop calling me that Patterson, it’s worse than when Reggie calls me Cookie,” you grumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust. 

“Oh lighten up, at least you’ve got some cute nicknames,” Rose chuckled and reached a hand back to hold yours. “We’re gonna have a blast (N/N), just trust me.”

Walking past countless amounts of stores, it seemed as though Rose’s plan to find you something nice to wear was pointless. You and Rose had very different ideas of fashion, ideas that clashed far too much for Rose’s liking. 

“There’s no way I’m wearing that!” you exclaimed, eyeing the brightly colored jacket in Rose’s hand. 

“It’s so pretty though!” she insisted. “The texture, the color, the price? It’s a bargain, (N/N)!”

You rolled your eyes. “Then you buy it for yourself,” you told her, pulling out a simple knit sweater from the rack.

“You know what, I will,” Rose settled before looking at the sweater in your hand. “Oh you can’t wear that! You’ll look like a grandma who got lost at a rock concert!”

You frowned at your friend, holding the sweater to your chest. “I always wear things like this,” you pointed out, slightly hurt.

Rose tugged the sweater out of your hand and shoved it back into the rack. Luke popped his head up from the other side of the rack. “Yeah, but at a rock gig, you can’t go as your typical self. A poor little bunny like you would never survive a place like that,” he explained with a pout. 

“Lord, have mercy,” you grabbed your necklace pendant and kissed it, frowning when you realized you weren’t wearing your normal silver cross. 

“Is that like some white person good luck thing you picked up?” she asked suspiciously and you chuckled. 

“No, I just thought I was wearing a different necklace. I don't know how I could have mistaken it.” 

“What is it?” Rose inquired further, taking the pendant from your hands and looking at the details. “A horseshoe? I didn’t take you for a horse girl.” 

“Yeah- no, I’m not… Reggie gave it to me in middle school, he won it at a county fair or something, I can’t remember,” you explained. 

“Reggie gave it to you?” Luke inquired. 

“Thought I said that already Patterson,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes. 

Luke fought the urge to say something sarcastic back to you. “No, I’m just- Reggie?” he repeated. “I thought he...hates you, and vice versa.”

You walked down the aisle, skimming through the various articles of clothing. “And you’d be correct,” you told him. 

“It was before you moved here,” Rose explained. “She and Reggie used to be best friends up until middle school,” 

“Yep, but that’s in the past and we’re in the present so let’s focus on that,” you rushed, already feeling uncomfortable about the topic.

“No let's not,” Luke rested his forearms on the rack in front of you, resting his chin on top of them. “Tell us more,” he pleaded, pouting like a child.

You glared at the boy, tossing a sequined shirt at his face, making him stagger back. “And why should I, it’s none of your business, no offense Rose, and I’ll probably tell you at some point anyway,” 

“None taken cariña,” she chuckled and continued looking for some clothing that would be appropriate for the gig. 

Luke sighed, following close behind you. “But why can’t you tell me now?” he whined like a child. “I adopted you-”

“Against my will,” you cut in, flicking his forehead.

“Details,” he insisted. “I’m just saying, shouldn’t we be close now? Don’t you trust me?” 

You took a deep breath. “Of course I do, Luke,” you reassured him, your patience thinning. 

“Then why not tell me?” he pressed.

“Because it hurts!” you finally broke. 

The two friends seemed to freeze at your sudden exclamation. The quiet small girl was cracking and revealing the broken china doll inside. 

“It hurts, okay?” you repeated. “And having to tell the story of how I lost my best friend for some stupid reason that I don’t even know...it hurts beyond belief. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even care. I loved him, okay? I loved him because he was my best friend. Even when I had no one I had Reggie and I used to think that nothing in the world could ever tear us apart.” you admitted. “When we stopped talking, he took a piece of me with him. And I know that I am never going to get that back.” 

Luke quietly moved over and past the racks of clothing pulling you into his chest and giving you a tight squeeze. 

“Bunny I’m so sorry. I had no idea,”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No one knew,” you told him. “It’s not your fault, Luke, you were just curious.” 

“Still,” Luke said. “I feel so bad. Maybe I could try and talk to him and-”

You shook your head repeatedly. “Maybe let’s not,” you countered. “It’s in the past now. There’s nothing I can really do about it and the last thing I want to do is rope my friends into this, too.” 

“Well then how about this,” Rose suggested, giving you a prompt to change the topic while holding up a long sleeved white turtleneck along with an oversized black shirt sporting the album art of a famous rock band.

“I actually think I might be able to tolerate that,” you let out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m hoping you have some ripped jeans at home, maybe some converse?”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not entirely hopeless,” you assured them and Rose laughed while Luke just pulled you in tighter for a brotherly hug. 

“Look at you being mature! We love you, bunny,” he told you, swaying as he held you tight in his arms. 

“Love you, too, I guess, Patterson,” you laughed. “Let me go, you’re crushing me!”

The second Luke pulled away, he leaned back in to ruffle your hair. “Now come on, Bunny, the gig starts in three hours. You all down for lunch?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you nodded. “Why not?” you replied. 

Rose wrapped an arm around the both of you. “Anything but hotdogs,” she giggled. 

“Agreed!” you quickly vetoed any other option and ran giggling with Rose to grab lunch leaving Luke to pay for the clothes. You were lucky he adopted you otherwise that would be a tricky one to get out of. 

—

“I feel like this is an illegal number of questions to have on a test, it’s literally taking so long to mark these,” you grumbled to yourself, scribbling notes with red ink on the margins of the freshman biology test. 

You had lost count of how many detentions had passed and lost track of how many were still to come, at this rate they could go on until the end of the year and in all honesty you probably wouldn’t notice. 

You looked over at Reggie who was marking some short answer questions on a test, seeing his bright red check mark where there clearly shouldn’t have been one. 

“That’s wrong”, you said, looking back down at your paper. 

“What do you mean?” 

“That. You marked it right, it’s wrong,” 

“Why?” he asked curiously, putting his pen down so he could listen to you. 

“Because,” you sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “the mitochondria is not the party house of the cell,” 

“Well I say the mitochondria can do whatever it wants,” Reggie proclaimed, adding another check mark to the test. “Because it’s the boss,” 

“No that’s the nucleus,” 

“The what?” he formed and you banged your head on the desk in front of you, 

“How in the world did you pass freshman science,”

“Like the rest of us, I cheated,” he countered and you looked at him with a shocked expression on your face. “Oh my God, lighten up Cookie, I was kidding, it’s been four years and I’ve barely taken any science classes since I just forgot,” he rolled his eyes. 

You moved your head back to your work, only to toss the pen down in frustration moments later to try and massage a hand cramp. 

“Stupid pen, stupid tests, stupid detention,” you grumbled under your breath, honestly feeling like you wanted to cry. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sat back in your seat, debating whether you should fake an emergency so you could just go home. 

Reggie silently reached over to your pile of tests and eyeballed splitting it in half, taking the unmarked tests and placing them in his own pile. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said flatly. 

“Sooner we finish the sooner we can go home and it didn’t seem like you were going to go any faster,” 

You stayed silent for a moment, carefully reaching for your own again before whispering, “Thanks,” to which Reggie only gave you a nod. 

The silence between you both was excruciating. It shouldn’t have been this way, it should have been easy to talk to him like it always used to be. 

So, you took a deep breath and unclenches your jaw, casually continuing to write while asking, 

“So how’s the band?” 

There was a short silence, probably due to his slight shock in you even asking or trying to have a civil conversation and his first instinct as usual was to block it. 

“Why do you care?”

You rolled your eyes and continued to do your work, at least you tried that was all you could do. The ball was in his court. 

When he looked up and saw your tired expression he realized there really didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive at this point so with an audible sigh he answered, 

“It’s great, we’re working on writing songs for our demo CD,” 

You nodded and checked off some multiple choice questions before you heard Reggie clear his throat and spoke again, 

“How about you? How’s the family?” 

“They’re alright,” you said, your lips pressed in a thin line. “I mean as good as they can be. Things haven’t changed much.” 

Reggie nodded in understanding, aware of your family’s financial situation. 

“Is that why you push yourself?” he asked again. You froze, your hand holding the grading pen not moving. “Hours in the library, studying until your brain practically explodes with information.” You raised an eyebrow curiously at him, making him blush sheepishly. “I just know from uh, Mr. Mallard. He likes to talk, you and I both know that.” With a small smile on your face, you nodded. 

“I guess you’re right,” you finally answered. “If I get a scholarship maybe I can at least make my way through a degree without plummeting further into debt.” You kicked aimlessly at the floor. “I just feel so guilty. Like...if I don’t do the right thing or make one stupid mistake I’ll disappoint my parents.” 

Reggie frowned, setting the testing papers down. “You know you’d never disappoint your parents, Cookie” he told you. Chills went down your spine upon realizing he didn’t have the usual malice and sarcasm behind his name for you. “They would never be upset with you.” 

You laugh humorlessly. “Right again, Flicka,” you sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the better term would be I would be disappointed in myself? I don’t want to fail them or anything by slacking off. They’ve already done so much for me.” 

“But that shouldn’t stop you from just-” Reggie drummed his pen against his thigh as he thought of the right words to use. “living? Cookie, we’re still kids. The point of high school is to just let loose and have fun, not drown yourself in schoolwork and scholarship essays.” 

You playfully flicked a paper clip in his direction. “I bet you’d know all about letting loose, wouldn’t you?” you teased. 

Reggie grasped his chest, gasping in feign hurt. “You wound me, Cookie,” he dramatically exclaimed, making you giggle and roll your eyes. 

As the two of you continued your light banter, you were reminded of the days you and Reggie would spend at the park, competing to see who could swing the highest between the two of you. The weight on your back lifted slightly as you started to sense a bit of normalcy, no longer at each other’s throats for any reason you could find. It felt good to talk like this with Reggie, to “let loose” as he said and finally set down all the baggage you’ve been carrying since you two stopped being best friends. Everything in that moment felt right. Stress, detention, and ungraded biology tests long forgotten. 

After what seemed like hours passed, Mr. Siezlio came back to the classroom, announcing that you were done for the day. You and Reggie surprisingly continued your conversation outside of the classroom, Reggie sharing more stories of the band as you giggled with every shenanigan. However, the moment you stepped foot outside, Reggie’s composure changed. 

“Alex!” you exclaimed, running over to the boy. Alex had his arms outstretched, pulling you into a friendly hug that Reggie considered far too chummy. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend, watching and making sure his hands were where he could see them. 

Reggie walked over to the two, a scowl forming on his face. “Alex, what are you doing here?” he asked, bitterness visibly clear in his tone. 

The blond drummer raised an eyebrow in confusion at Reggie’s attitude, but decided not to address it. “(Y/N) and I have an AP chemistry project coming up so she’s going to sleep over at my place so we can work on it.” 

You grinned up at Alex. “We’re probably going to have to pull an all-nighter to get it all done tonight,” you told him, making him groan. 

Reggie’s lips fell to a thin line. “Good luck trying to do that,” he muttered. “Alex falls asleep before eleven o’clock. I’d pay to see him stay up past that.” 

Alex rolled his eyes playfully. “When my grade is on the line, I think I can manage,” he said. “Especially after that one experiment in class you left me to do, I think we both definitely need that A.” 

“Yeah, Alex can’t do titrations for shit,” 

“I tried my best,” Alex fought back. 

“And what did that get us?” you pressed. 

Alex’s head hung low. “Erm, a B,” he muttered. 

Reggie stared at the two in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend this ‘nerd talk.’ “A B?!” he exclaimed. “You were disappointed with a B? I would have been happy with C-,” he shook his head and pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder, preparing himself to part ways. 

You shuddered at the thought of such a low grade. “I’d never even begin to imagine a C,” you said aloud. 

Reggie smirked at you. “Well, you are a nerd, Cookie,” he teased, making you shove him. 

“Ass,” you shot back. 

“(N/N), we gotta go if we don’t wanna stay up all night,” Alex said anxiously. 

You nodded, taking Alex’s hand in yours and squeezing it. Reggie glared down at your intertwined hands, anger bubbling rapidly in his chest. 

“Bye, Flicka,” you cheerfully waved goodbye. 

Reggie didn’t look you in the eye, only staring down at the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pocket. “Whatever, Cookie.” 

—

Band practice the next afternoon -to say the least- was probably the shittiest the band had ever played. Luke and Bobby were incredibly confused why Alex continuously dropped his drumsticks and refused to make eye contact with anyone and why Reggie looked so angry that he could snap the strings of his bass. 

“Okay, guys, guys! Come on we have a gig in like a week! We can’t go out there playing like this!” Luke insisted and Bobby nodded in agreement. “Alex I haven’t seen you fumble this much since we tried to play football and Reggie you currently have negative three hundred and forty-five dollars and seventy-three cents in your bank account so I would recommend loosening up on the strings because none of us can afford more.” 

“Yeah, what the hell is going on with you two?” Bobby added and Reggie sent a cold glare towards Alex that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. 

“What was that?” Luke asked, pointing in between the two boys. 

“What was what?” Reggie asked, his head snapping back to send the same glare to Luke. 

“Okay you two clearly have things you need to settle so get it out there,” Bobby nodded, motioning to the floor, metaphorically saying it was open for one of them to take. 

Alex took a deep breath and nervously started, “Well I think it’s pretty clear Reggie is mad at me it’s just I have no idea as to why,” he shrugged his shoulders. “D-Did I eat your sandwich or something? A meatball sub maybe?” 

“That’s not it, but did you? Because if you did you are dead to me,” Reggie said venomously. 

“No! No, I didn’t,” he insisted quickly, very much so wanting to stay alive and not murdered at the hands of his best friend. “But what the hell is making you mad Reggie, I’ve never seen you like this,” 

Luke and Bobby seemed to nod carefully in agreement and Reggie swung his bass around the strap so it was hanging from his back. 

“You need to stay away from (Y/N),” Reggie said in a cautionary tone, pointing directly at Alex. 

“Lady bunny?” Luke asked curiously with furrowed brows and Reggie just looked at him back with confusion before remembering the nickname. 

“Yeah, I guess, but seriously Alex, you shouldn’t be with her,” 

“What do you mean I shouldn’t be with her. (Y/N) and I are just friends! We’ve been lab partners since freshman year,” Alex insisted. “And in case you forgot I’m kind of really gay?” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be spending time with her!” Reggie exclaimed furiously. Was he mad that you were spending time with his friends or that you seemed to be getting just as close with them as he once was with you. Right now, that was all a muddled mess in Reggie’s mind and heart so naturally, he started spewing out words that probably didn’t even have meaning at that point. 

Bobby discreetly made his way to Luke. “Hey Luke,” he whispered. “I can go ask Rose to make some popcorn,” he shrugged. 

“Oh yeah, for sure, and tell her to come in, she’ll wanna see this,” Luke added, equally invested, as their two other bandmates seemed to really be going at it.

“Reggie, you need to calm down. (Y/N)’s my friend, too. I don’t know any of your past, but you can’t tell me I should just drop her completely,” Alex said in a level toned voice. 

“Oh don’t act like you know (Y/N) better than I do,” Reggie snapped. “I know her like the back of my hand, and I know she’s bad news.”

“Do you really even know her?” Alex pressed. 

“Of course I do! Who was there when she broke her ankle? Me. Who was there when her fish died? Me! And who was there when everyone else wasn’t?”

“Not you anymore,” Alex cut in softly. Reggie's rant stopped short. The teen stopped pacing to look his friend in the eyes. “Reggie, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you have to admit to yourself, you still care about her.”

Reggie fumed silently. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I think you do, Reggie.”

“Alex you don’t get it! (Y/N) and me, that’s over!” his anger had sent him over the top. “Stop trying to say something’s there! It’s not!” 

“Listen to yourself Reggie, just listen to yourself talk! If you heard what I’m hearing I think you’d have a different opinion,” 

“Just-Just!...” Reggie pursed his lips and grabbed the neck of his bass pulling it back in front of him. “Can we just take it from the top,” 

“Y’know Reggie I think Alex has a point,” Luke butted in, remembering his previous conversation with you, realizing how much losing Reggie had actually affected you. 

“Oh joy,” Reggie sighed. 

“Just hear me out,” Luke continued, regardless of Reggie’s reluctance. “Why did you get into music in the first place?” 

“Because I loved it,” Reggie scoffed as if it was obvious. 

“No really Reg, be honest,” Bobby added. “Specifically when did you start playing music more seriously?”

Reggie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, tasting the metallic liquid in his mouth he shrugged his shoulders and flopped onto the couch. 

“I got into it after I stopped talking to (Y/N),” he admitted. “But what’s your point?” he asked. 

“You don't confront your problems Reggie,” Alex explained. “You came to music because it helped you block out the fact that losing her tore you apart.” 

“Well if it tore me apart then why am I still here, huh? Why am I happy? Why am I even alive? If she was my everything then how the hell am I still here?!” 

“Because she’s keeping you here,” Luke whispered. Reggie turned to Luke, at a loss for words. “Because even though you two had a falling out, you know that seeing her everyday at school...you’re glad she’s okay.”

Reggie ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know me,” he snapped back. “You don’t know what I think, or who I-I care about. You just don’t, so you can’t stop playing “mom,” Luke.”

Luke slowly approached him. “I don’t understand you,” he said truthfully. “You never open up or tell us anything. You say we don’t know you, you won’t even tell us anything. If no one knows you, then who does-“

“(Y/N)!” Reggie finally broke. The boys froze in their spots, only staring back at their struggling friend. “(Y/N), okay? She’s the only one who listened to me, the only one who cared. And now she’s gone because I pushed her away. All because I was so stupid and my pride got in the way. It’s my fault the best thing in my life is gone.”

Reggie realized what he had said and quickly pushed himself up and away from the couch. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he shook his head and tried to make his way out of the studio. 

“Reggie wait!” his friends called back for him, but he shook his head and pushed his way out of the door just as Rose was heading into the studio. “Reggie come on! We’re sorry!” 

Biting the inside of his cheek he cursed under his breath, knowing that they were right. He did push people away before they got too close and right now he didn’t have the strength to blame himself so he blamed you instead. 

—

Reggie stormed into the almost empty library on Saturday, having had to walk to his detention from his home by the beach which was not close to say the least. 

When he pushed on the door to come into the library with such force it startled you as you organized the books and put them back on the shelves. 

Reggie didn’t speak to you as he tossed his things to the side and grabbed a cart, going to his designated spot in the library. 

You were careful to not try and push any buttons, knowing he was in a fragile state, it was kind of obvious, but it was even harder not to address. 

“Hey Flicka?” you said gently, trying to be as compassionate as possible. 

“What,” he spat, shoving some books onto the shelf without much care. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, expecting to be met with barriers, that seemed to be all that comprised your relationship now. Walls, fences, barriers, and barricades. 

“None of your business,” he said, his breathing slightly heavier as the tears burned in the back of his eyes and the lump grew in the back of his throat. 

“I-I mean are you sure, you seem really agitated,” you noted and he didn’t respond. “Reggie you don’t have to hide anything. It can be my business if you want it to-” 

“No it can’t!” he snapped, throwing the books that were in his hands on the table. You flinched at the loud noise the impact made. “It stopped being your business the second we stopped talking to each other so just leave it Cookie,” his voice carrying the same hostility it did weeks ago. 

You paused for a moment, looking down at your pile of books before whispering, 

“They’re fighting again… aren’t they?” 

Reggie’s throat was burning, he wanted to scream into a void, empty himself of the pain because you were right, you were always right. Even when it felt like you didn’t know each other you were always there proving him wrong. 

His hands started to shake and he dropped the books he had just picked up again, turning around so you couldn’t see him. Reggie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed or if he just didn’t want you to worry. 

You wanted to reach over to your old friend, offer him some sort of comfort because you knew Reggie’s family and you knew how hard it was on him. 

So you did the next best thing. Pulling out your MP3 player from your pocket you went over to Mr. Mallard’s speaker system and plugged it in, turning up the volume to the max, letting the soft plucking of guitar strings fill the library and the hallway surrounding you. 

You went back to your pile and turned your back to him, giving him some sort of privacy, what you thought he needed. 

Reggie wasn’t sure if there was another time in his life where he had listened to this song and related to it more. 

So when he wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned around and saw you, he realized he didn’t want to be far away from you, he didn’t want to yell at you, he didn’t want that distance. 

So he quickly pushed the chair and table with wheels out of his way before stopping right behind you, carefully reaching for your hand that was resting by your side. 

When you felt his long slim fingers wrap around your own you turned around to look him in the eyes. They were still the same beautiful shade of blue and green, but unlike the last time you really looked into those eyes, they carried so much hurt. So much hurt and sadness that should never have been there in the first place. 

But through it all they said I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for all of this. 

And you nodded, back, accepting that apology. 

So he didn’t hesitate a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face in your shoulder. You nearly gasped in surprise as his grip around you tightened. It was as though he was afraid of losing you, and didn’t want to let you go. Lucky for him, you felt the same.

Slowly, your hands found their way around his neck. You could feel Reggie’s tears dampen your shirt, but you couldn’t care less. 

“It’s going to be okay, Reggie,” you whispered. 

Reggie sniffled quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that,” he murmured.

“Say what?” you asked.

“Say that everything’s going to be okay,” he continued in a hushed but angry voice. “Say that everything is all sunshine and rainbows when at the end of the day my parents will still fucking hate each other while yours struggle to keep their home.”

You stiffened under his touch. His words struck a nerve in you, but you pushed down the anger in you. He was hurting, and what he needed was a friend, not a fixer.

Instead, you squeezed him tight against you. “Then, don’t think,” you said. “Clear your mind and- and forget everything. Forget your parents, forget this stupid detention and the musty smell of these ancient books, forget me.”

Reggie dug his head deeper into your chest. “I don’t want to forget you, Cookie,” he murmured. “I-I don’t want you to leave me again a-and-“

You shushed him. “I’m not leaving, Flicka,” you reassured him. “I promise.”

Reggie let out another broken sob. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I-it’s just that we both don’t have a good record with those. Promises, I mean.”

“Let’s clear the slate,” you suggested softly. “Start over to a point where all broken promises of the past are nothing but a mere memory, okay?”

Reggie nodded, placing his hands over yours. “I’d really like that Cookie,”

You smiled, removing your hand from his cheek and linking your pinky with his. It was just like when you were kids, but slightly different. This time, it had so much more meaning of hope and love. “Then take my promise to your heart, Flicka, because I’m not leaving. No matter what.”

Reggie rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and letting whatever tears had gathered to fall down his cheeks. You lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the spot right in between his eyes, letting your lips linger there a moment longer than they should have.  

“Dance with me Cookie?” he whispered. 

“Flicka, you know I suck at that,” you laughed quietly, ducking your head as your cheeks tinged red. 

“Don’t worry,” he sniffed as you wiped a few of his stray tears. “I won’t leave you hanging,” 

“Okay,” you breathed, allowing his hands to gently hold your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. 

As you gently swayed in the library you could vividly see two young teenagers in a brightly lit room dancing to the same song. 

You could hear Reggie softly humming along with the tune, but when you opened your eyes and looked at him you were brought back to reality and realized what you needed to do, 

“I’m gonna call the boys okay?” you said gently and Reggie winced. “I won’t tell them. I was just going to stay over at Rose’s place tonight so maybe we could all stay in the studio.” you suggested. “So you don’t have to go home.” 

“Y-You’d do that?” he asked, a certain tone of surprise in his voice. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded, pulling away from him. 

Making your way to the phone behind Mr. Mallard’s desk, you dialled Rose’s house number first to ask if it was okay to have everyone over, before making the subsequent calls to Alex, Luke, and Bobby. 

After dealing with the phone you checked the time. Technically you still had an hour of your detention left, but for today Mrs. Hillside just swore you to honesty. 

As much as it made you anxious to do so you looked over at Reggie and raised a brow. 

“Should we call it? We can walk over to Rose’s place. I told Luke to bring some comfortable clothes for you,” 

“Sure,” he nodded and you hesitantly let go of his hand. For some reason it felt like it was too much at once. You just needed a few moments to yourself. 

All you ever wanted was for things to go back to the way they were, but now that it seemed to be happening it was a lot to take in and Reggie sensed that so he didn’t push farther, only grabbing his bag and walking quietly by your side as you left the school through a backdoor that was locked from the outside. 

The situation for you both might have been one to cause panic or worry, but right now you both relished the fact that your friends were sure to provide a wonderful distraction. 

—

“Lady bunny, you’re wearing your pyjamas already?” Luke chuckled from his spot on the couch while you walked out of the washroom, day clothes folded in your arms. 

“I intend on relaxing today, kidnapper, thank you very much,” you said in a matter of fact tone. 

“You still wearing my shirt to bed, Cookie?” Reggie teased and you stuck your tongue out at him before retorting with, 

“Still wearing that Star Wars underwear Flicka?” 

“Yikes,” Alex scrunched up his nose and Reggie’s cheeks went a darker shade of red than they usually were. 

“They still fit okay, it would be a waste,” Reggie fought back. 

“No one wants to hear that,” Bobby grimaced while you and Rose laughed together, relaxing on the futon. 

“Why don’t we play a game or something?” Rose suggested. “Just to pass time, I mean this is a sleepover isn’t it?” 

“That sounds like a good idea,” you nodded. “Any suggestions?” 

“We could play would you rather?” Bobby said, “I mean that’s a favorite right?” 

You nodded in agreement. “I haven’t played that game in a while, but I’m down.” Everyone gathered around the coffee table. Prepared to sit next to Reggie, you felt someone’s hand grab yours and tug you down. Looking to your right, you saw Luke smiling giddily at you. 

“As your parent,” Luke said in a motherly tone. “I need to sit by your side in case any inappropriate language is used.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Luke,” he said. 

Luke gasped, covering your ears and pulling you to his chest. “Language!” he hissed. “We have a bunny here and I don’t want you to taint her mind with your demon words. No fucks, no shits, no dicks.” You shot the boy a look before pushing him off you. 

“Would someone tell this guy I’m not five?” you rolled your eyes only to have one of your cheeks pinched by Reggie while he snickered and said, 

“You sure look like it,” You threw an empty solo cup at him. 

“Who wants to go first?” Rose asked with a wide grin. 

“Oh me!” Luke exclaimed, raising his hand and waving it around wildly. 

“Sometimes I don’t know what you’re on,” Alex sighed and the rest of the group laughed. 

“Okay, okay, um, Bobby would you rather smash your guitar or have it run over by a semi?” 

“That’s just cruel,” Bobby looked at Luke wide eyed and he just gave him a smirk in return. He sighed heavily before saying, “I’d like to think if I smashed it, it would be from rocking out so hard so I’ll go with that one,” 

“Okay now it’s your turn,” you raised your brows at Bobby.

“Alright, (N/N), would you rather be locked in a room with Reggie or Luke?” 

You scrunched up your nose. “Both are horrible options,” you began, making the boys yell out in response. “But the real question is: would I rather be babied to oblivion or be murdered?” you thought for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t murder you!” Reggie exclaimed. “That’s too easy,” he smirked and you gasped, slapping his arm. 

“Hush you!” 

“What would you do to torture her then?” Rose asked curiously, knowing exactly what buttons she was pushing. 

“Well see if you really want to get someone you make them fall in love with you and then break their heart,” Reggie explained casually.

“Oh that is cold Reggie,” Alex said with wide eyes. 

“But I wouldn’t do that to (N/N), I think she deserves a murder,” Reggie shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from his cup.

“Put me out of my misery,” you nodded. “Alright, I’d go with Reggie,” 

Luke pouted, leaning his head on your shoulder. “But we’d have fun, Lady Bunny,” he whined. “Don’t you love me?” 

You scoffed, flicking his forehead. “Barely,” you joked. Luke just grabbed you by the arms and brought you up to him, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek. 

“I’m your mom you have to love me,” he poked and you made a face, wiping your cheek after he had kissed you. “Hey! That was a sign of motherly love, how dare you!” You smirked, flipping him off before continuing the game. 

After what seemed like hours passed, you and your friends got bored of the game once you started to run out of ideas. 

Alex was nearly passed out on the floor, but Bobby nudged him awake. “Can we play a new game now?” Bobby sighed. “I know would you rather was my idea, but I’m kinda tired of it.” 

You nodded tiredly, before your mind clicked with an idea, 

“Wait how about MASH?” you asked curiously. “Reggie and I used to play it all the time,” 

Reggie’s lips quirked up to a smile. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I’m still hoping I get that mansion and forty horses.” 

“I don’t understand how you play rock music. Were you born in Montana or something?” Rose chuckled. 

“Pfft,” Reggie scoffed while you laughed. He sighed and finally conceded with a nod. “Yeah okay, I’m not from here,” 

“Wait you’re not!” Luke exclaimed and Reggie shook his head. 

“I’m from Wyoming,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I moved here when I was like...four.” 

Bobby’s face turned sour. “Wyoming doesn’t exist,” he said stubbornly. 

Alex coughed, “Wait you don’t actually think that do you?” 

“It’s a joke Alex, and you ruined it,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “But seriously Reg, Wyoming?” he frowned. “Like what do you even do there?” 

“Live on a ranch,” Reggie sighed longingly and you tried to stifle a laugh, prompting him to put you in a headlock and ruffle your hair. 

“You’re laughing right now, but no one knows where you’re from,” he smirked. 

“Oh Reggie, you’re a dick.” 

“Language!” Luke exclaimed, trying to cover your mouth while you protested and Reggie explained that you also were not a California native. 

“(N/N)’s not from California either, she moved here when she was five,” Reggie explained. 

“From where?!” Alex asked, completely invested. 

“I thought we were gonna play MASH?” you tried to interject, but no one was listening to you and Reggie still had you locked under his arm. “Flicka don’t do this!” 

“She’s from Canada!” he grinned and you groaned. “And the town she lived in is called Saint-Louis du Ha!-Ha!” 

“Reginald!” you protested, finally wrestling yourself out of his grip while he laughed uncontrollably. 

“The city has two exclamation marks in its name!” 

“Guys,” Luke started seriously and Reggie’s laughter faded to silence as you listened to the band leader. “I-I have a confession to make. I’m also not from here,” 

“You’re not?!” Bobby was coming close to losing it, having not known about his friends. 

“I’m also from the Great White North,” 

“Wait really?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m from Fredrickton,” Luke grinned. 

“No way!” you exclaimed giddily. “So are you Acadian?” 

“Proudly so,” he nodded and you gave him a high five. 

“Canucks unite!” you laughed, not noticing the pointed glare Reggie was sending Luke. 

Bobby pulls his hair in frustration. “Okay, who else isn’t from California here?”

Rose sheepishly raised her hand, much to Bobby’s disbelief. “Puerto Rico?” she answered, more so like a question. 

“Dude,” Alex said, shaking his head. “She has a strong Puerto Rican accent.” 

Bobby stood up abruptly, storming off. “I’m out of here!”

You stifled back a giggle, calling out, “Bobby! Where are you going?” 

“TO THE FUCKING GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE,” he yelled back. “MAYBE I’LL FIND ACTUAL CALIFORNIANS THERE.” You rolled his eyes at his dramatics. You knew he would probably make it out the door before coming back in. The boy was far too lazy to make the drive, anyway. 

“I wonder if he realizes that I’m from California, too?” Alex pondered aloud. The entire group burst into laughter.

“Let’s just start the game without Bobby,” Rose suggested. “Who wants to go first?” 

“I can go,” Reggie nodded, grabbing a scrap of paper and writing down the things for each category.

“Okay hit me with some career options,” 

“Stripper,” you said, slapping his back and he rolled his eyes, but still followed the rules and wrote it down under occupations. “You’d be a terrible stripper though, you can’t dance and you have terrible balance,” 

“Okay I’d be an amazing stripper, but that’s besides the point,” Reggie countered and continued writing all the names and places his friends wanted thrown in his options. “Alright numbers now right?” You hummed in response. 

“Do five,” you said with a toothy grin. “That was how old we were when we met.” 

Reggie nodded, starting to go down each list and circling whatever he landed on. At one point as he counted, his face turned red as he hid the paper from you and everyone else’s view. Once he was done, you tugged on his arm. 

“Come on, Flicka,” you teased. “Show us what you got!” 

Reggie cleared his throat, “I mean is that really necessary?” he asked cautiously. 

“Come on it can’t be that bad,” Alex insisted. 

“Um, well it’s not bad perse,” 

“How do you know that word?” Luke teased and Reggie rolled his eyes. “Just tell us,” 

“Alright well I got a house, a music teacher, two kids, five horses and I’ll live here,” he nodded, trying to avoid a certain topic. 

“Who do you marry?” Rose asked curiously. 

“No one?” he answered unsurely.

Rose rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t an option,” she reminded him. “Come on, it’s just a game, Reg. Just show it.” When Reggie refused to move, Rose resorted to snatching the paper from his hands. 

“Rose!” he cried out, reaching for the paper. 

The girl only held the paper far away, squinting her eyes to read the circled mark. “It’s (N/N)!” she squealed. Rose and Alex high fived each other while you dug your into Reggie’s chest, completely flustered. As a response, Reggie wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head against yours. 

“It’s okay (N/N),” he said loud enough for the rest to hear. “We can just murder them,” he smirked and they all burst into a fit of outrage, during which Reggie leaned in closer to you, his lips coming close to your ear while he whispered, 

“It’s nice to take a break every once in a while, right?” 

You nodded with a smile. 

“Yeah, Cookie can let loose,” you joked.

“Of course she can,” he smiled, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“Oh my God did you see that!” Rose pointed to you and Reggie and he stuck his tongue out at her. 

“What can’t a guy hug a gal?” he countered and you just placed your hand on Reggie’s mouth before he made it first, prompting him to teasingly bite your finger. 

“Flicka!” you complained while Luke immediately came to your rescue. 

“Guys! You gotta leave at least a foot for Jesus, come on this is beginner stuff,” he poked. Luke swatted Reggie’s hand away. “Get your hand off my daughter. I’m not ready to be a grandmother just yet, Peters.” 

“Luke,” you whined at his extra comment. 

“If they think this is bad they should’ve seen the dance Mrs. Leona made us do,” Reggie nudged you and you agreed with a chuckle. 

“Since when are you guys in the dance class?” Bobby asked, coming back into the studio with more snacks. 

“We’re not, Mrs. Hillside assigned under Mrs. Leona’s care for a day and we helped choreograph a dance for the sophomores next semester,” you explained, totally not realizing the implications of what you had said. 

“You know they’re gonna make us dance now right?” Reggie sighed. 

“Shit, they are, aren’t they,” 

With a loud groan you both stood up and Reggie took your hand. 

“From the top Cookie?” 

“From the top,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes. 

Rose reached for the speakers, connecting her MP3 to them and playing the song. 

“Swing those hips, Reginald!” Luke whooped, reaching for the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table. Reggie mouthed a swear to his friend as his hands found his place on your hips. 

“Watch where you’re putting those hands!” Rose warned. Rolling his eyes, Reggie teasing dropped his hands lower, only for you to swat them away. 

“I’ll still bite you,” you hissed playfully. 

“Promise?” he shot back. 

Once the music started to play, you felt Reggie’s hand trail down your arm. Every move was burned to your memory as you danced along with Reggie. The comments of your friends -either cheering or teasing- escaped your mind. 

And all that you wanted was for the night to never end. 

taglist:  @katrina765 @glowstick-lesbian @well-hes-just-too-cute @slytherhoes @notasofti @sunsetcurving @kmsmedine​ 

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[maybedefinitely404]

Day 9: Intruloceit (Pt 1)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 9: When you write something on your own skin, it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Content warnings: implied abuse (nothing graphic), self deprecation, some internalized homophobia concerning polyamory, angst. 

(Happy ending in next part)

Word count: 1.7k

Janus didn’t sleep the night before his eighteenth birthday. Instead, he sat curled up on his bed, wrapped in his blanket, watching the minutes pass in the dim light of his alarm clock. His heart pounded as it drew closer to midnight, feeling like the numbers on the display were a countdown to his death.

He didn’t have friends, and that wasn’t a topic he would ever admit to being sensitive about. Most people would spend the eve of their eighteenth birthday surrounded by their loved ones, count down the seconds until they reached the strike of midnight, and then huddle around the birthday person as they wrote a message to their soulmate for the first time. A little greeting, an introduction, something to begin the process of meeting the love of their life. In a decent amount of cases, probably half, Janus would speculate, they wouldn’t get a response until their soulmate also turned eighteen, but the first note was still a special moment; something to celebrate. He’d never been a popular person though, by any standards.  Even back in elementary school, his general dark demeanor and habitual lying kept people away from him. Sure, it would be more fun to play at recess with the other kids instead of laying in the sun and watching the clouds float by, but his defense mechanisms were not something he was going to let go of any time soon.

When his bedside display finally read 12:00, he expected to feel something. A shiver up his spine, a tingling under his skin, anything. But nothing happened, and he couldn’t tell if he was more grateful or upset. He stared down at his skin, pen held in his shaking hands, debating if he should do it. The minutes ticked by, suddenly a lot slower than when he’d been fighting for breath in anticipation and fear, and the pen continued to shake.

Downstairs, the front door slammed shut, causing Janus to flinch so hard the pen clattered to the floor. His dad wasn’t supposed to be home for a couple more days, and he could hear his mom voicing similar confusion as she made her way downstairs to greet him.

“Darrel? Did the trip end early?” He could hear the hesitation and uncertainty in her voice even from behind his closed door. His father had left with the excuse of a work trip. They both knew that wasn’t true, and both had an unspoken agreement to not say a word about it.

“What are you doing awake?” The man’s voice was gruff, sleep starved, annoyed. He clearly hadn’t intended to run into his wife, the soulmate he had stopped loving years ago.

“The headlights shone through the window, they woke me up.”

“Well, go back to bed. I don’t want to be grilled by you right now.”

“Do you want some dinner? I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge-”

“I said, go back to bed!”

“Darrel, please! You’re going to wake Janus!”

Janus shut his eyes and ears as the yelling started, abandoning the pen and what little excitement he’d had previously. Like every night, his sleep was as restless and chaotic as the day time, haunted with flashbacks and nightmares that he had no way to escape. Words hit with as much impact as fists, reminding him of how he was meant to be alone. A soulmate could never love a royal fuck up like him. His dad’s words echoed and distorted as the blows landed, shouts of unlovable and worthless setting in his mind as tombstones. Images of his parent’s failed bond rifled through his mind’s eye at record pace. Whether they were a one in a million flaw or just a cruel reminder that soulmates are never as perfect as displayed, he’d never know. All he knew is that he’d rather be alone for the rest of his life than be submitted to the fate that had befallen them, abuse and hatred but unable to leave, not with the expectations and stereotypes they lived under. ‘Soulmates were perfect, never failing, an unshatterable bond.’ Bullshit. He knew he was also subjecting his soulmate to a life alone, but his fear easily outweighed his desire to be loved, or his sense of compassion. 

He woke up the next morning with a new heaviness in his heart, glancing at the time habitually. It was ten minutes before his alarm, but the thought of going back to sleep was too daunting a quest, so he rolled off his bed and padded to the bathroom to get ready for school. It was his senior year, and no matter how much he would rather stay at home and mope in his room, zoning out as he tended to do, he needed his grades to stay decent. It was the only way he was getting out of here. Half asleep, he threw on his yellow comfort hoodie, a stark contrast to his mood. It had been a present from his mom a few years ago, given with the uncomfortable smile between two people who lived together but rarely spoke. 

He clambered down the stairs two at a time, freezing on the last step as his eye locked on the person in the kitchen. His mom sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee silently, barely acknowledging he had entered the room. Without so much as a word, he scooted by her, eyeing the bruise forming on her left cheek and slunk out the door. They didn’t talk much anymore, why would today being his birthday change that?

The day was nothing out of the ordinary, and Janus didn’t know why that made a certain hole open up in his chest. Boring classes followed by lonely breaks, a quiet lunch hour in an abandoned classroom and an uneventful walk to the park after school. He preferred doing his homework anywhere that wasn’t home, especially now that his dad was back in town. He needed to get these done, and who knew what would pull him away from his work there. Besides, the grass was soft and the sun wasn’t too overbearingly hot, and he desperately needed a tan. The darker his skin, the more unnoticeable was the huge birthmark that covered the left side of his face, a little something that just made him that much more avoided by his peers.

His pen had barely scratched the paper when a tickle over his right arm made him gasp, like a feather ghosting over the skin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was, and after a moment of adrenaline and panic, it occurred to him that no amount of putting it off would prevent the inevitable. He’d have to acknowledge his soulmate’s existence eventually. With a deep breath, he tugged the sleeve of his hoodie up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

From wrist to elbow on his forearm, a deep blue ink had scribbled down bullet points that he must have not noticed throughout the entire day, since there were too many for them to have happened in the last few minutes. He started at the top, eyes drifting hungrily over the writing until he reached the last note, still being finished.

Chemistry test next Friday, study cephalopods

English paper on William Shakespeare, ask Roman for advice

Talk to Patton about moving movie night to next weekend

What far away is Andromeda from earth?

Fix V’s pin 

Yell at V to stop breaking their pins

Get dad to sign detention slip

Extra credit for calculus due tomorrow

Do you want to get coffee?

Janus froze. That last one… what the hell? Sure, his brain was decently sleep deprived, but he was almost certain he hadn’t written to his soulmate last night. Except, damn, that question certainly didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of his notes; it seemed aimed at someone. Nevermind how they knew he was there, knew he had turned eighteen, they were trying to contact him, and that was more important. He picked up his discarded pen off the grass, twirling it in his fingers. What should he say? Should he even say anything? His original plan to ignore his soulmate was suddenly significantly more difficult, now that they were making the first move. They were a real person, not just a stranger, no longer a figment of his imagination twisted into something evil. 

But before he could touch the tip to his arm to respond, to maybe introduce himself or ask where they were in the world (why were they offering coffee if they’d never even established where they lived, he wondered distantly), a barrage of green script exploded under his poised pen.

YES PLEASE! I was awake all night. I just saw your notes, you want help with the cephalopods? I can quiz you, I know everything about them. And I guarantee I know just as much about ya boi Billy Shakes as Roman, and I know the FUN stuff too! Not the prissy romancey stuff. Did V tell you their pin broke because they tried to stab me with it and hit my pocket knife? Because they did. What did you get detention for this time?

Even with the small writing, Janus had to rotate his arm to follow the messy scratching as the… new person continued to rant about their day. He sat in shock, not able to process what was happening. This had to be a mistake, right? It was astronomically rare to have more than one soulmate, and there was no way he was one of those people. He had never been special before in his life, in either a good way or a bad, so he in no way was deserving of… this. Maybe this was a mistake after all, just like his parents. Another cosmic fuck up, where he’d have to live out the rest of his life, watching the two people fall more and more in love while he looked on like a creep. Isn’t that what he deserved, though? The two other people obviously knew each other; two soulmates who must have turned eighteen before him and met a while ago, if their casual interaction was anything to go by. And… he couldn’t intrude on that. Even if he did, if he popped up out of nowhere like a bad cold, they wouldn’t want him to join their pre-established relationship already. They probably weren’t even polyamorous, and the whole idea would just make them uncomfortable. 

His mind was too far gone for homework. So with a lump in his throat the size of a meteor and tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he capped the pen, rolled down his sleeve resolutely, and packed up his supplies. Anything his dad would do to him would surely hurt less than this. 

[4aloysius-porteu]

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | 2 | chapter 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 2.6k

She has met the tall, blonde, and bespectacled male yet again.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here."

"You again?! Seriously, I think it's you who's following me!"

"Hah, what do I get from following an extremely short person like you?" He said, borrowing her words from yesterday.

(Y/N)'s eyebrows creased further in irritation. "Why do you keep mentioning my height?!"

"It was you who started it. Anyways, can you shut up? Do you know that you're in a library?"

She didn't retort back and simply sat on the chair with her arms crossed. It was a fine day then —BOOM— this giant decided to appear out of nowhere. She was trying to forget this person who's associated with some of her embarrassing moments but those just got smashed back to her mind. (Y/N) sighed and pulled a book at the bottom of the stack to start reading, but noticed that the blondie is still standing near the edge of the table, hesitating to sit down while glancing somewhere and back to her.

"What?" (Y/N) frowned.

"Why am I unnecessarily stuck with you on this table?" He sighed, pulling out the chair.

"Because all of the tables here are taken? If you're worried about your glasses being knocked off, don't worry, I won't do anything reckless anymore."

"That's a nice reassurance," He settled down and brought out his studying materials.

Both of them shared the table in the crowded library. Ignoring the people, between them was a silent atmosphere. No one was talking as they both minded their own studies; he was reading quietly and turning pages of a huge book while (Y/N) wrote key points from the printed work and highlighting her notes. Sometimes, the other would leave to return books to their shelves and came back with new stacks. This went on for a few hours until her pen ran out of ink. She scribbled at the back of her notebook in hopes that the ink just got stuck, to no avail. She sighed, resting her head on the notebook. But she really needed to take down notes for her upcoming entrance exam.

"Hey." (Y/N) reluctantly said.

The blonde male looked at her, confirming if he's being called, "What?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your business but... do you have a spare pen?"

He stared at her with a straight face and placed his chin on the top of his knuckles, implying his refusal to lend one.

(Y/N)'s mentally gritted her teeth. I'm just going to borrow a pen and he's making it hard for me?!

Swallowing her pride, she said, "Look, I need to finish my notes. I'll return it to you right away when I'm done. I promise. Please?"

He scoffed as brought out a pen, "An inkless pen is all it takes for you to become a less lively puppy? You better keep your promise."

A puppy?! "You didn't need to compare me to a puppy but, thanks."

She continued her work but her focus was a bit shaken. This happens whenever she's interrupted or took a break away from writing. Soon, her focus vanished and boredom took over. She tried to read a book to review ideas but her brain won't cooperate. She groaned, her head and arms fell to the table again. The blonde saw but chose to ignore her.

She closed her eyes for a second, however, her gaze fell to the blank paper in front of her face. Her hands are itching to do something other than reviewing and writing, so she put down the pen she borrowed and took a pencil out of her pocket. She placed a pile of books near her notebook so that the male won't notice what she's doing. There, she started to sketch the base of the figure.

She would observe the four-eyed guy who's busy reading some sort of article while taking notes. He has a calm expression on his face rather than an irritated scowl or a mocking grin he usually has. He wears a long blazer and probably a long-sleeved shirt inside. His blonde hair is short yet the edges are a bit curly and his upper eyelashes are prominently long. This was the first time she stared at the jerk's face who she kept bumping into random places that irked the hell out of her, but for some reason, she felt that she had seen this person before the accident in the park, albeit she doesn't know where. (Y/N) came to a conclusion; he was a little good-looking.

The girl looked back to her drawing and shook her head at her own ideas. I can't believe I actually thought that this guy is handsome. How can such a mean creature be blessed with such looks?! Ugh, don't mind, (Y/N). I'm only drawing him because he seems like a great canvas subject, it's not like I haven't done this to other people before...

She went on drawing and drew details to the sketch similar to the boy in front of her. To make the drawing more accurate, she stole small glances at him. She kept things low key because it'll be another embarrassing event if he found out what she's doing. She made the lines smoother in one swift move. The hair and clothes' folds are already well-drawn while she focuses on the detail of his eyes and glasses. She was about to shade when the male finally caught her.

"What is it?" He questioned, closing his book with a low voice and creased eyebrows.

(Y/N) froze on the spot. As much as she doesn't like it, she maintained eye contact with him, thinking of the best alibi that he couldn't argue with. Then, she remembered that she doesn't know his name.

"Uhm... nothing. I was just wondering if you have a name." While talking, her finger subtly moved to grab the nearest object it could get to cover her drawing.

"I have, but why would I mention it to you?" He cooly replied.

"It's alright. I'm not asking you to. Unless you want to be referred to as he/him or the tall, blonde glasses guy all the time?" (Y/N) countered.

He silently turned a page before answering, "Well, it's not like we'll meet every day."

"Oh," was her only reply. Looks like he will stay a nameless guy in her head for a long time. She was about to get back to her business when he spoke.

"Tsukishima Kei."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "I'm not going to repeat it." He added.

She smiled, having clearly heard it right away. "Can you tell me how it is written?"

He looked at her to check for ill intentions but found nothing in her eyes. He hesitantly wrote the characters of his name on a piece of paper.

"I'm (L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you again, Tsukishima-san." She'd like to initiate a handshake for peacemaking, but she knows how he'd only decline it. She wrote her name for him to see as well.

Tsukishima Kei. She repeated in her mind. What a nice name.

With a notebook covering the upper portion of the paper where she had drawn his portrait, she wrote his name at the bottom. She proceeded to the shading and background features. Backgrounds are one of the things she hates in art because it takes too long to draw one compared to the subject itself. Luckily it's only a sketch so she won't have to suffer. Although she doesn't know if Tsukishima had seen whatever she's doing so she's still cautious. She peered at him for the nth time so she could distract his peripheral vision. Maybe to test the social initiative skills she hasn't used for a long time too.

"Uhh, can I ask something?" She started.

"Hm?" He responded without taking his eyes off the page.

"What school are you from?"

"Amemaru Middle School."

(Y/N) hummed, thinking of another question, "Then, what school are you enrolling to? It must be an upper class one since you had to read those large books and all."

"Not really," Tsukishima closed the book, "I plan to go to Karasuno High School. They may not have a difficult entrance exam, but these readings are for decent grades and some stock knowledge."

"Decent grades, huh... you look like you could achieve more though. I'm pretty sure you'll ace it." She answered, "I was from Kitagawa Dai Ichi. I'm taking an exam in Shiratorizawa soon."

"You're going to that high-class academy? I see, I failed to notice that because you don't look like one. Have fun clashing with other elites there."

"Elites? What are you talking about, you still believe there's such a hierarchy?" (Y/N) chuckled.

"There is though. A gap between them and mere humans in terms of skills and power."

"In the end, they're still humans though. Be it numbers, hard work, or some unique strategy, those 'mere humans' you say will always struggle to step on equal levels with those on the highest rank."

Tsukishima only hummed and stared down at her, "Perhaps I was wrong on assuming you're an elite. You're clearly not."

"Are you underestimating me?" She challenged.

"No, I was just saying. Can I ask something though?"

"What?"

"Why are you suddenly talkative?"

She was caught off guard but tried not to stutter, "Me? Talkative? I'm always like this."

"Really?" He raised his brows, totally not buying it.

"Ugh, fine! I'm tired of studying!" She sighed, "I was scribbling some doodles on my notebook because I'm bored so I thought it wouldn't hurt to talk to Mr. Beanpole in front of me. Forgive me and my awkward social skills."

"Your social skills are not bad. I'm just thankful you aren't using the precious ink of my pen for drawing." He said, stacking the books he used.

She gasped, panicked inside, "You aren't looking at my drawing, are you?"

He got up to return the books,"Don't worry, it's none of my business."

She exhaled in relief, spared from another memory of embarrassment. Her eyes followed his walking figure and watched his movements. She looked at her drawing to compare and used her fingers to define lighting. When Tsukishima got back and placed new reviewers on the table, (Y/N) asked him once more.

"Do you ever get tired of studying?"

"Sometimes I take a break, but I can only do that if I have finished everything."

"What a diligent student you are."

"I hardly see any benefit in being dumb and slacking off all the time."

"Eh, I hardly see any benefit in studying Algebra and Calculus. I have a lot of questions. Do you use derivatives in counting money or salary? Do you use trigonometry in dividing pizzas or corn chips? Why do I need to find the limit of a function if numbers are infinite? Why do I need to get the formula of a certain point in each line or curve I draw on the graphing paper? What is the correct answer for?" (Y/N) complained.

Tsukishima looked at her blankly, doubting her chances of passing the Shiratorizawa's board exam. "I couldn't argue with that, I'd rather read a book composed of words than formulas, but you don't have a choice. Although, if you plan to be an engineer or something, that'll be a different perspective."

"No, thanks, I won't eat math books for breakfast. Other subjects are interesting enough to keep me awake in class, but numbers don't really entertain me."

"Then, what do you do?" He asked, writing on his notes.

"Not much. I just draw, paint, listen to music, and watch anime."

He let out an amused hum, "How about you? What do you do other than to study?" (Y/N) asked.

"I play volleyball, listen to music, and read narrative books."

"Volleyball? So that's what your height is for! I thought it's just for cleaning and reaching high places."

"That's rude."

"If I am, what do you call yourself? Besides, I don't want to make wrong assumptions."

"You just did."

"...right. I'm sorry."

The sense of familiarity took over (Y/N)'s brain, telling her that she definitely had met this Tsukishima guy before. Her face scrunched a little, trying to search her memories and connect the dots. Her eyes found his face again.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" His eyes narrowed, his annoyance towards the girl slowly rising.

"I HAD met you somewhere... before that accident, where did I see you?"

He was about to say something when (Y/N) stopped him, "Shh, I'm thinking."

He crossed his arms and frowned at her. Volleyball, Amemaru MS... She was about to say it but Tsukishima spoke first.

"Were you one of the audience who watched the middle school volleyball inter-high a year ago?"

"I was! Wait, you remember?"

"That was the only place where I could find someone from Kitagawa Dai Ichi." He confirmed.

"Correct. I was a part of the school paper where I was assigned in the sports category. I took a picture of you when my senior was interviewing you! You were the tallest middle blocker in the games! How could I forget that! So that's why whenever you irk me, it was familiar!"

"How am I annoying you? Aren't you the one who kept on talking right now?"

"I've figured out that there's no kind bone in you. And the way you keep on stuffing the spikes from the opposite team. It was never-ending that they didn't have a chance to score properly." She pouted.

"What do you expect from a middle blocker? It was my job to block spikes."

"You could've gone easy on them."

"The game would lose it's sense if that's the case."

"Fine. You're not wrong." Their conversation was cut short after she ceased talking. At least she found out where she first met Tsukishima. She finished the portrait sketch. Grinning, she believed that she captured his features accurately in her drawing. She'd like to hold it near him and compare to make sure though. Satisfied with her work, she went back on turning pages.

"So, you've finally decided to continue to study?" Tsukishima prodded.

She smiled, "I guess. Thank you for talking to me. That was a great stop."

Both of them worked quietly, but now, the irritation they felt towards each other lessened. After some time, a person in the speaker announced that the library will be closing before 6 pm. Tsukishima returned all the books he borrowed and packed his things.

"You're going home?"

"I don't want to come home late. You aren't finished with your notes yet?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll leave five minutes before six."

"Alright. I'll get going now." He swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, wait! Your pen!" (Y/N) abruptly remembered seconds after.

"I don't need it anymore. It was useful, apart from its close on running out of ink."

"But it's yours and you told me to keep my promise!"

"Whatever. Keep it or throw it." He walked out and wore his headphones, having no intention to listen to anyone.

She sighed and checked the ink. More than half of it is gone, but she can use it again if she wishes. (Y/N) placed her fist to her cheek while writing.

Random Tsukishima Kei facts:

In the second prototype chapter (unserialized, one shot, the first idea of the author on how haikyuu will go) Tsukishima was a second-year, which was changed in the serialized version where he's a first-year. His initial height in the prototype chapter is 184cm, a little shorter than his official height (190.1cm). In an extra sketch, Furudate commented, "Tsukki and Tanaka being in the same year would spell chaos!

©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law. 

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Between the Ink and Papers Ch. 3

Summary: Steve and Peggy have been divorced for a year and Sarah is still starting to find her groove in it. However, it becomes a lot easier when she and Typhanie realize it might be time for her dad to start dating again.

Pairings: tattooartist!dad!Steve x Reader, Typhanie x Sarah, Peggy x Logan, Bucky x Natasha

Word Count: 1592 words

Warnings: Mentions of past self harm, there might be cussing?

Between the Ink and Papers Masterlist - Masterlist to Other Works

Previous Chapter

--

Y/N had seen a lot of smiles in her life. Working as a counselor, they ranged, but the one Sarah gave her now was absolutely terrifying. She knew, in this moment, she would never be able to live it down. “Uh…Sarah? What are you doing here?”

The grin never wavered. Sarah intertwined her fingers, resting her chin on top of her hands. “Oh, just working. What about you, Miss Y/L/N?”

If Y/N could crawl into a hole, she would. This wasn’t exactly a setting she would have ever expected to cross with one of her clients. “I – “ Before she could stutter out an answer, a rhyme or reason for being in a tattoo parlor with her tipsy friends, someone came from the back.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, surprised to see someone that looked like that working at a tattoo shop. He looked like he should have been a model. His blonde hair was swept back and those bright blue eyes surveyed the room as if he owned the place.

And maybe he did.

“Hi. I take it you ladies are the ones Bucky told me about?”

“That’s right,” Y/N heard Wanda say, walking past her and to the counter he now stood behind. “All five of us wanted to get something.”

Y/N was hardly paying attention to the conversation. She was far more focused on trying to figure out why this guy looked so familiar. He held out a hand to Wanda. She promptly shook it, her grip lingering a little too long before he shook hands with Hope, Carol, and Val as well. They introduced their names before he looked at Y/N.

She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, but refused to let herself think too much about the cause of them. Instead, she took his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Steve Rogers. This is my place.”

Rogers. Y/N looked at Sarah. She was still watching, that amusement never wavering from her eyes. He was her – Oh boy.

As Steve took their IDs and handed them to Sarah, he explained how they would most likely have to divvy the women up between himself and Bucky. It would keep them from spending too much time here at least. Y/N also had a feeling it was something to do with getting Sarah home at a reasonable hour, but there was no way she could be sure. For all she knew, Sarah had a bed here that she slept in.

Oh, dear god, that was a horrible thought. Why would she put that idea in her head?

“Hey.” Y/N blinked, looking at the hand touching her arm. Hope was watching her curiously, clearly concerned but not willing to voice it. “You okay? You’re not already regretting this, are you?”

“No, of course not. It’s…” Y/N glanced at Sarah. Her back was to them, copying their IDs to the paper each woman would need to sign. “Complicated.” She remembered all the sessions she had with the young girl. How she was struggling. Was it because she was spending nights like this? How much of Sarah’s life was being kept out of their sessions? And what sort of stability did she really have?

“You comin’?”

Y/N jerked, looking towards the back. Steve was waiting there, and her friends were already putting down their pens. Sheepishly, she scribbled her signature on the paper. It wasn’t her first tattoo. She knew the drill. Sarah took the papers, straitening and filing them away as Steve led them down the hall. “Have fun,” she called just as Typhanie came out of the bathroom.

Seeing the smirk and glimmer in her girlfriend’s eyes, Typhanie frowned. “What? What’d I miss?”

--

“Hey, Buck!’ Steve’s fist collided with the doorframe, making the brunette inside jump a foot in the air. He grinned before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Got some customers for you if you’re interested.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, rising to his feet as Carol and Val stepped in. “Hi.” He was sheepish, obviously feeling bad for not noticing they were ready for him. “Um…come on in and we’ll talk about what you guys are lookin’ for.”

Across the hall was Steve’s room. He opened the door, propping it against the wall. “There’s two chairs there. If you want to wait and watch, you can. If not, you’re more than welcome to hang out up front and us come and get you.”

There was an awkwardness in the air. None of them really knew who wanted to go first and it seemed none were interested in making the first move. Y/N chuckled and said, “I’ll go first. You two want to wait up front?”

“Yeah! I saw the records and wanted to check those out, if you don’t mind,” Wanda said, already hightailing it out of the room.

--

Hope was quick to follow her. It had nothing to do with her wanting to be out of the room, Y/N knew that. It had everything to do with the fact that Wanda was the wild card of the group. Leaving her alone with two teenagers up front… No, Y/N definitely appreciated Hope going with her.

“Uh…guess that settles that.”

Y/N squeaked. She turned back to Steve, unable to fathom how she had forgotten that he had been in the room with her. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve heard some weird stories.” He gestured to the table as he sat on his stool, rolling to her side. “So – is this a group tattoo? Or each is getting their own thing?”

“A bit of both actually,” she explained, voice a little softer than before. “We’re all getting the semi-colon symbol.”

Steve had been reaching for his sketch book, faltering when he heard that. A lot of people got that symbol. He knew the reason behind it. Sparing a glance at her, Steve understood why she was so quiet. Instead of grabbing his sketchbook, he rolled the stool so he sat in front of her. On the table, she easily towered over him, but that was normal. Gnawing at the corner of his lip, Steve wasn’t sure what to say so he simply started with, “Hey.”

She looked up, meeting those pretty baby blues of his as he offered a small smile. “Hi.”

“You don’t have to go into detail if you don’t want, okay? This is about your comfort.” He noticed the way her shoulders dropped and smiled. There. That was what he wanted to see. “Do you just want the black ink or something else?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured the black ink was sort of party of it.”

Steve grabbed his sketch book. “It doesn’t have to be.” He took one of the pencils off the table and flipped to a spare page, tracing quick, rough strokes.

Y/N was amazed by the way he so easily moved the pencil, as if he knew exactly what stroke needed to go where. Her brain didn’t work like that. She wasn’t that creative when it came to artistic things. She tucked her hair behind her ear, sparing a small glance his way. Steve was concentrating, putting as much focus into this as if he were creating something completely extraordinary instead of a little tattoo. His brow was furrowed, pinched in the middle, and his teeth were worrying his lip.

He really wanted to make this right.

“We could do something like this.”

Y/N straightened, making herself focus on the paper as he turned it her way. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling when she saw the design. It was simple. Needing only a little bit of color. And it wasn’t so big or over the top that she couldn’t hide it for her job.

“I love it.” She turned back to him. The smile on her face made Steve proud of the creation even though it wasn’t anything fancy. It meant something to her. And that made him happy for her.

She shrugged off her jacket, setting it aside and turning her body back towards him. It wasn’t Steve’s first time seeing scars, nor would it be his last, but seeing those faint, risen lines on the inside of her wrist...it hurt. He could never imagine what had happened in her life to cause such a reaction, but he wanted to help her move forward now.

It was the least he could do.

“We’ll start with the black and then go to the watercolor,” he told her, spinning back towards his inks. He put a tray of them together, lining them up. “Sound good?”

“Uh…yeah.”

Steve chuckled. “Not having doubts, are you?”

Y/N shook her head. No, there were no doubts. She absolutely wanted this. “Not doubts,” she told him as he tested the pressure on the tattoo-gun. Setting it down, Steve turned back to her and started cleaning her wrist. “It’s just…I feel like I should make sure you’re properly informed.”

He laughed, running the razor over her skin and shaving away any little baby hairs that would get in the way. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“Well, yeah,” Y/N admitted, knowing she was probably being silly. Still, honesty was important to Y/N. It always had been. “But I still think you should know.”

Steve raised a brow, finally meeting her gaze. “What?”

“I’m…” Y/N sighed, reminding herself that it wasn’t that big of a deal. It shouldn’t be, right? Glancing down at the sketch between them, she admitted, “I’m your daughter’s counselor.”

--

Tag List:

@fullofmultitudesfullofshit​

@abundanceofcarolines​

@patzammit​

@peaches-roses-sins​

@thisartemisnevermisses​

@works-of-fanfiction​

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I have the week off of work! Expect some updates in the next few days!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter VI - The World’s First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip

She’d managed to rid all the tension from her shoulders after a steaming hot shower with a lovely lavender-scented shampoo and was now strewn out across her bed with the book she’d been reading from the library. She didn’t have much planned for the day, simply wanting to refrain from causing any more distress between the others and herself. But when someone came knocking at her door, she didn’t feel like she had a choice but to open it. She was met with the eyes of intrigue himself.

“Will you accompany me for the day?” Alex merely asked. “Where will we be going?” she questioned in turn.

“You wanted to know all about my hotel. So, I’ll show you what I can, writer. Meet me in the service room behind the lobby when you’re dressed.” Looking down at her figure clad only in a soft white robe, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She saw the corner of his lips quirk up, before he sauntered back down the hallway towards the elevator. Cheeky bastard.

Having decided on wearing a long skirt with a pristine white blouse to maintain some form of professionality, she grabbed her notebook and pen and made her way towards their one-sided agreed upon meeting point. When Nick was greeted by her ‘good morning’ and with the sight of Alex holding the door to the back room open for her, he gave them a look of complete bewilderment, which Alex simply deemed to ignore. She shrugged and held her notebook a bit closer to her chest before stepping through the doorway.

The room wasn’t very large. In fact, most of the space was occupied by a large desk, filing cabinets and most prominently; television screens. They showed different camera angles to hallways and other communal areas, such as the library and dining hall. It was clearly live, because she could see Matt taking Mardy out for a walk in the gardens and Nick behind the counter, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door they’d gone through. Alex took a seat at the table that held all the electronics and cables and motioned for her to do the same.

Hesitantly lowering herself on the chair next to him, he seemed to be waiting patiently until she’d opened her notebook on a blank page and her pen had revealed its ink when she scribbled down the date on the top right corner. She looked up at him and saw a look in his eyes she could only describe to be the hesitancy of a man who was desperately trying to place his trust in a stranger for the first time in years. She felt it was her turn to take the initiative. “When did the hotel first open its doors?” she decided to start with.

The simple question seemed to bring him back to focus, as he cleared his throat. “About twelve years ago, I’d say it was.” “That’s quit a while. I’m guessing you were rather young to be opening a hotel,” she noted, silently scribbling her pen across the paper in the meantime. She didn’t dare look away from him. He nodded and grumbled a chuckle. “Young, and very inexperienced. Even though I’d had everything planned out from the start, it turned out to be a lot different in practice than what I’d expected it in my head to be.”

“In what way?” He thought about it for a moment. “I guess I had to learn that I couldn’t do everything beforehand and that I had to make more direct decisions on the spot. Although, I was very lucky to have Miles and Matthew at my sides. They were with me every step of the way.”

She smiled softly. “Matt told me about your school years with him and Miles.” “He did? Yeah, we go way back. Bit ridiculous to think I made him promise to come work for me if I ever opened a hotel. Poor lad never stood a chance choosing a different career path. Miles, however, he’d always expected to become my business partner.”

“So, it hadn’t really been Miles’ initial ambition to become mayor?” Alex shook his head, “No. He’d always had a knack for politics and as you well know he’s socially very capable. But if it hadn’t been for his position today, I think this hotel would’ve remained a pipe dream.”

She hummed, letting her eyes wander over the wide array of television screens. “This is your office?” she wondered. “Of sorts,” he replied, “Though Nick often finishes his paperwork in here. It’s where everything is filed.”

“Doesn’t the noise ever bother you?” The slight static hum appeared to be constant and she felt like it derived the room of its peace. “It would most certainly drive me insane.”

“Ah, the exotic sound of data storage. Nothing like it, first thing in the morning,” he quipped with satire. “No, I think I’ve gotten used to it over the years. I don’t really hear it anymore.”

“Have you always had cameras around the hotel?”

“No. We didn’t think it was necessary for a long time, but certain events proved otherwise.”

“Events you’d rather not talk about right now.”

“You’re really getting the hang of this, writer.”

 He took her to see the library next, and their walk was silent until they were once again behind closed doors. “I didn’t mean to be secretive, but I did borrow a book from here,” she admitted, shuffling to one of the plush seats near the fireplace. “I know,” he replied, making her look at him in surprise. “I’ve read every single one of these books. They’re all classics, because I’d never let a bad piece of literature enter this room without my permission. You just happened to take one of my favourites, which I can only commend you for.”

She knew the plot of the book from memory and couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk spread across her face. “You like cheesy romance novels?” she teased. “Laugh at me all you want, writer,” he replied, “But it was you who specifically chose that book to borrow out of all of the ones in here, which means I’m not the only one guilty of fancying a good love story.” “Alright,” she admitted, “What other genres do you prefer when you’re not swooning over Mister Darcy?”

He snickered at her banter. “I take interest in science fiction.” “Intriguing. I suppose great minds do have a wild imagination.” “Was that a compliment I heard?” he inquired. “Don’t get cheeky now, mister Turner. We’re both still testing boundaries here.”

He told her all about the becoming of his grand book collection; of how he’d initiated his fondness of reading through his mother’s literature shelves until he’d gone through them all and started sticking his nose in bookshops and libraries. “When the hotel gained more popularity, some regular guests seemed to pick up on my hobby and I’ve only ever received books as thankful parting gifts from that point on. I’m rather relieved, because I was getting sick of flowers and champagne bottles from people with horrid taste.”

“You really do sound like a ritzy hotel owner now.” “I’d rather be ritzy than be in the rubble.” She raised her brows at him with a silent inquiry at his remark. “Don’t say it,” he muttered.

It was when they winded down a staircase she hadn’t seen before did she unravel her notebook again. During the beginning of their conversation she’d only written down the facts and dates, until she’d decided her memory would suffice for the rest of their conversation. Up until he’d taken her to the lower level of the hotel, which managed to fascinate her to a great extent. “What is this place?”

She knew what it was on first glance but wanted him to elaborate on it. “It used to be a bathhouse,” he told her, “but the previous owners were never able to maintain it. It’s a long-term project of mine to restore it.”

It looked very worn indeed, but the vines that protruded the walls and the moss overgrowing the smooth pillars reminded her distinctly of the Romantic art in the paintings she’d seen across the halls of the hotel. There was a large pool in the middle, and though the green substance that most likely used to be clear water obtained a lot of algae’s, it was alleviated by the gorgeous flowers floating atop their lily pads.

The grimy pastel-coloured tiles in blues and pinks were illuminated by the soft light appearing through the ceiling window in the back of the room, which had a few cracks here and there. She walked around one of the separating walls and found an array of bathtubs lined up to the side, decorated with rusty showerheads and crooked room dividers.

“It’s gorgeous. I’m glad you haven’t decided to tear it all down,” she breathed in awe. He hummed, “I have thought about it. But I’m legally not allowed to since it’s been deemed a piece of ‘cultural heritage’ by the mayor himself.” She snickered, “So, Miles didn’t want it to be torn down.” “Let’s just say it was a mutual understanding.”

She gave him a look and took a step around the next corner, but then no longer felt the ground beneath her foot. She could start to feel gravity pull her down until a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back, causing her ankle to scrape against what she now recognized to be a large crater she was meant to have fallen in. Alex pulled her flush against his chest and she let out a deep breath of relief, her heart a pounding mess against her ribcage. “I understand your curiosity is getting the better of you now that I’m answering most of your questions, but it wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit more careful.” His breath tickled her ear and his husky voice was like a musical echo throughout the room. “Thank you, mister Turner. I think I’ll be alright now.”

He slowly let her arm slide out of his hand. “Were you hurt?” “Just scraped my ankle. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head. “Let’s get it sorted. Can’t have you limping around my hotel. It would ruin my reputation.” “To who? All of the other guests?” “I will push you back into that pit if I have to, writer.”

She was still able to walk well enough, but they decided against taking the stairs this time and took the service elevator instead, which lead them straight to the kitchens. He’d rummaged through a few cupboards before finding the first aid kit. She sat upon the counter and lifted her skirt a tad to inspect the damage.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut it off, miss.” She smacked his arm and he let out a bark of laughter. It was deep and vibrant, and it gave her more joy to hear it for the first time than she’d expected.

Yet, as he cleaned the wound and wrapped her ankle with a soft bandage, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of grief towards the evident wall he hid his emotions behind. It added to the long train of thoughts she was already dealing with right now, and she couldn’t say she was particularly pleased with it.

A silence washed over them as he finished his work and it gave her the opportunity to really look at him. Not just his appearance, but taking in everything he was.

“What will you do if you can’t save this hotel?”

He took long enough to form an answer that she’d almost thought he’d gotten upset with her again. Instead, he replied in a quiet voice that deeply saddened her to the core.

“I really don’t know.”

[freedformwriter]

Overdue end of the Lockdown Diary…

Day 55

I’ve taken to swimming in the bleached pool in hopes that the chlorine will substitute for a soap scrub under the cold-water tap. My frog-kicking feet strike the bottom in the shallows, so I make little doggie-paddling circles in the deep end. Still, there’s sun and sparkle and the natural mood lift that comes from being buoyant. It’s a nice break from spreadsheets. I sit my glum cluster down in front of my endlessly-updated google docs and review home repairs and car searches and trade recriminations about why we still don’t have hot water. We try to leave these pleasantries out of our virtual Sunday coffee with our missing member. It’s enough of a stretch as it is.

Day 56

Soon I’ll need to wear smart tops with my pyjamas like all the other WFHers, I tell my girlfriend. I’ve just had a meeting on Microsoft Teams. The topic: IKEA PAX closets.  It’s the type of unfunny joke designed to point out just how much damn work I’m doing to sort this house out. I check The Portugal Resident for the latest on beach protocol. Good news! No sign of policed beaches with surveillance drones swooping overhead. The worst limitation for some people is only being allowed a half-day sun lounger rentals. But I’m not cheered. Immediately on opening the article, two advertisement banners have appeared trying to sell me funeral insurance. Must have for expats 40+! Jesus Christ. What have I got myself into?

Day 57

We have hot water!

My longed-for bath is anticlimactic. It’s suddenly in the high 20s and I’m already plenty warm. And perhaps I’m not feeling so fragile anymore. It’s been a week since I unpacked anything, but now I bustle about listening to Radio 6 Music. Synth music recommendations are punctuated by hourly news flashes about soaring unemployment sign-ons, inadequate testing, and Trump’s latest mad cure claims. Lauren Lavern does her ‘House Music’ feature. Was ever a concept – to submit videos of your household appliances making music – better suited to our times?

Today we have an ear-and-nose clipper that sound like the opening to Gomez’s Get Miles, a squeaking garden gate that heralds Funkin’ for Jamaica by Tom Browne, and two hard-working dishwashers. Once unheard as they slogged away overnight, these machines are now part of the daytime soundscape. The one in York plays Waterloo Sunset as it starts, while the other’s mid-cycle interruption notification sounds like My Girl.

Hopeful dishwashers, declares Lauren.

Day 58

I fill my fountain pen with ‘Sargasso Sea’ blue ink for some fiction scribbling. My yoga and writing sessions are the one sacrosanct creative space in the week. But, last time, I used the hours to shop online for sheets. I guess I was desperate for tangible comfort. For something that would claim the bare bed and empty room upstairs as mine. Now, they’ve arrived.

I’ve gone full Byron Bay. Unbleached 100% linen. Ooooh, enthuses a friend, you could use the flat sheet as a tablecloth if you have a big dinner party in the garden. We clearly follow the same Instagram threads. I make a bedside light with an old tomato sauce bottle, removing the supermarket discount brand label – PorSi – with olive oil, then stuffing a length of fairy lights inside and finally knocking a jagged hole in the lid with a screwdriver.

Day 59

A single construction worker has returned to the abandoned building site across the road. He’s placed a blue beach umbrella beside the new pool making it look as if he’s having a party for one.  In February, they drove a digger over the property wall, scooped out an Olympic amount of red earth and left. Outside the hotel on the corner I spot another lone worker lying full stretch on a second-floor wall and leaning out into space to wrestle a weed from a drainage spout. The hotel lobby is shrouded in white sheets like an aristocratic home shut-up for the off-season.

I show off my new haircut on Zoom at that night’s quiz. I booked the long-coveted cut on a facebook page filled with pictures of faceless women getting their roots retouched. The stylist wore her plastic apron medical style, while mine was tied up tight about my neck for the wash. She then slipped the neck ties through the ear loops of my mask, pulling it tight and low, before starting with the scissors. Ingenious.

No one’s even getting up at 8pm to clap the NHS anymore.

Day 60 - The End

I thought there would be more closure. More definite boundaries to the lockdown state. That I would know where it started and where it ended. I imagined concluding my lockdown journal when I was reunited with my girlfriend. A classic fade-to-black moment at the airport arrivals gate. My new beginning implied by a swirling shot of us embracing. We’re not together, but time is moving again. I’ve felt it ticking for this past week or more. I’m no longer in the state of suspension so evident in the UK.

The day is punctuated with delivery vans pulling up. Workmen tromping in. Renovating a house is an occupation focussed on tangible targets. Befores and Afters of predictably startling difference. There’s very little room for subtle observation. And, aside from flashes of existential crises when you realize that you’ve just spent an hour seriously discussing the pros and cons of detachable kitchen taps, your consciousness does not shift an inch.

Or maybe that’s just me. All I know is that I was a part of the lockdown masses in the UK. Now I’m a corona tourist. I do a final check-in with the live webcam of falcon chicks in Warsaw that’s proved a strange bond with my stranded girlfriend. The chicks are now enormous, unattractive mounds of mottled feathers and down. One stretches its wings. Testing. I swear it was just the other day that its stubby wings caused it to overbalance and topple over.

[thosemultifandomwritings]

Ink Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Soulmate AU where everything you write or draw on your skin appears on your soulmate too

Part 1  ...  Part 2  ...  Part 3 

Good luck on your chem test today!

You smiled down at your wrist, grabbing your bag before heading out the door. Walking down the many stairs of your apartment, you gripped a felt pen in your hand, cap gripped in between your teeth, careful not to loose it. Over the last few weeks, you had experimented with a lot of pens, and if you didn’t have a marker, felt tipped pens were the next best thing. It was soft enough on your skin and pretty easy to wash off. Honestly, you had gone through many pens these past few weeks.

Thanks P. Try not to write any equations on me this time, wouldn’t want to get caught cheating(:

Peter leaving his apartment in Queens couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped his mouth as he read the words appearing on his arm. He basically tripped over his own foot as he began his walk to the subway, pulling out one of the many pens that sat in his pocket.

It was one time!

The relationship between the two of you had flourished quickly in the past few weeks. Even with the little time you had known him, you had found yourself developing a cliché high school crush on a guy you had never even met.

You had learned his name was Peter and he was from Queens, which made you absolutely giddy inside. You yourself lived in Manhattan and knowing your soulmate lived so close brought you instant joy. People always said fate brought soulmates together, but you could have never pictured fate placing your soulmate a mere bus ride away.

You were having an amazing time getting to know Peter, but there was always a nagging voice in the back of your head to keep your guard up. Of course, having a soulmate was an absolute blessing. But soulmates are only human after all. You had heard countless stories of people who had developed a connection with their soulmate, only to have them ripped away from them by death and other horrible travesties. The soulmate bond is such a strong feeling, that many soulmates of those who had perished end up spiraling. You didn’t like to think these horrible things, but even from the little time you had known Peter, you couldn’t imagine not having him.

Despite this, you still caught yourself reaching for a pen anytime something amazing happened, or on the other hand, if something bad happened. You itched to tell Peter about almost every aspect of your day. It was as if there were a magnet between your hand and a pen, and you constantly found yourself trying to hold back from making a fool out of yourself before you had even gotten the chance to meet him.

Peter on the other end, was doing no better than you. He would constantly check his arm to make sure he didn’t miss a note from you. He had even equipped his Spidey suit to have room for a few ballpoint pens in case he found himself on the top of a building late one night and felt his arm tingle. On his late night Spider Man adventures, he would find himself in Manhattan more often than not. Sometimes he would picture one of the giant skyscrapers he would swing by would be your apartment, you sleeping away as he worked to keep the city safe.

The two of you up until this point had never discussed meeting up, but as the weeks went by, Peter felt an urge to meet you. An urge to see what you looked like. To meet the person he was destined to be with.

But he was also worried. He hadn’t told you anything about Spider-Man. I mean, what we he supposed to say? “Hey and by the way, you know Spider-Man? The red and blue spandex wearing crime fighter who can sling webs from his wrists? That’s me! You can look me up on YouTube!” Not only was that way too much to write on his arm, but he would sound like an absolute crazy person. Peter was already nervous enough talking to you, let alone telling you all about his alter ego. As Spider-Man became more of a household name, more and more enemies were coming out of the woodworks. Everyone knew about soulmates, and if one of the many villains that littered the streets were to find out the Spider-Man had an ultimate weakness? There’s no telling what could happen to you. What could happen to you all because of him. Peter refused to get you in the middle of his Spider business.

It was as if the two of you together shared an unspoken agreement that for now, you two would remain apart.

It was another few days later when Peter found himself at Avengers Tower. He had fallen asleep on the couch in one of the many lounges after a very long meeting with members of the group. Having so many strong personalities in one room was always mentally exhausting, especially if they happened to slightly disagree on something. This time, Steve had suggested an alternate plan to one they had already discussed, many members disagreeing with him and frankly wanting to be done with the meeting all together. Peter had taken Steve’s side in the argument, shocking some of the other members seeing as he usually kept pretty quiet and agreed with whatever Tony said. In short, Peter had really needed a nap.

As Peter’s eyes were closed, he felt a slight shiver run up his arm, causing him to stir from his sleep. As Peter’s eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light, the first thing he did was look down at his left arm.

Hey P...why is there a red white and blue star on my forehead...

It took him a few seconds to really process what you had written, but when he did, he jolted off the couch, tripping over a blanket someone must have put on him while he was sleeping. He ran to the first reflective surface he could find, which happened to be one of the any gigantic windows that littered the walls, and looked at his reflection. Smack right in the middle of his forehead sat a very crudely drawn star covered in a red, white and blue American flag.

Peter groaned, reaching into his pockets to find a pen to write back to you. Forgetting he had changed earlier, he silently cursed to himself as he came up empty handed. He jogged to the nearest place he knew a pen would be, which happened to be Tony’s lab.

“Mr. Stark I really need a pen!” He exclaimed, bursting through the door and immediately scanning the room.

“Whoa kid, where’s the fire?” Tony asked, looking up from some piece of metal, “And what in the actual hell is on your forehead?”

“Thor and Mr. Barton think they are so funny,” Peter grumbled, his eyes never leaving the many drawers he was currently scrambling through. Clint, who had been snickering with Thor upon seeing Peter’s appearance, quickly stopped as he heard Peter.

“Hey kid, you have no proof it was us,” he said shrugging while trying to keep a straight face, pretending to get back to work on one of his bows.

“Thor?” Tony asked, as if Thor were a small child whose parents already knew they were guilty.

“It was I and my good friend Clint,” Thor laughed deeply, grabbing Clint around the shoulders as Clint groaned. Peter, disconnected from the conversation at hand, had finally found a pen. Gripping it rather tightly in his hand, he lifted his shirtsleeve to scribble back to you.

I’m so sorry! My friends think that are funny. Hope it didn’t inconvenience you too much.

Finally exhaling, Peter tuned back into the conversation to hear Clint explaining rather loudly to Thor on the meaning of a secret. Pen still in hand, he stared at his arm waiting for your response. He found himself waking out of the lab towards the bathroom to clean his face, knocking into a few walls on the way as his eyes kept flickering back to his arm.

Just stayed in my room to avoid questions. Kinda dig the patriotic look. Your friends seem ready for war :P

Peter finally relaxed at knowing you weren’t annoyed and began to scrub his forehead with soap to rid himself, and you, from the rather bad drawing.

Some of them were in one, a while ago though

Peter had written it before he really thought about it, wanting to write it before the soap got in his eyes. In the middle of scrubbing, he realized what he had actually written and immediately began to scrub his arm. Maybe he could get it off before you saw it. Water now trickling down his face, he had most of the words off his arm, but it was too late.

A while ago? P...please tell me you aren’t an old man

Scrambling for the pen once again, it slipped from his wet fingers onto the ground. He practically pounced on it, writing in all caps back to you.

NO!

Your response came mere seconds later as Peter now sat down on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, rubbing his eyes vigorously as soap had now gotten in them. His eyes teared up as his eyes stung, blinking rapidly in order to be able to focus them on your words.

Calm down P, I can basically hear your heartbeat from Manhattan. I’m just joking

Ignoring the fact that he was also currently in Manhattan when you assumed he was home in Queens, he let out a loud breath. His cheeks turned a deep pink as he reread your message, his eyes lingered on the end. At the very end of the sentence, you had drawn a tiny heart.

He felt his own heart beat faster in his chest as his eyes stayed glued to the shape. After a few seconds, he physically shook his head to snap himself out of it. I mean, you clearly didn’t mean anything by it. At least that’s what Peter told himself to make the blood stop rushing to his cheeks.

His head tipped back to lean on the cool tile that surrounded the bathroom walls, his bloodshot eyes staring up at the ceiling. It would be an understatement to say that Peter was completely shocked at the effect you could have on him with one little shape. If this is how he reacted when he read a message from you, what the hell would he do if he were to ever meet you?

A/N: Next chapter will be a lil drama so buckle in guys and gals ;)

If you would like to be added to the taglist for the series, just let me know (Sorry if anyone got double notifications, first time uploading this there was a problem <3)

As always, requests and comments can be sent here .xx

Taglist 

@abswritesfandoms , @blackcat-midnight-thatsme , @axielle-suson , @justmilla , @noodleboylester , @squirrellover1967 , @sockywell , @iris-suoh , @tom-holland-imagines-are-us , @issyogirllexie , @embrace-themagic , @monster-alien-chode , @parker-underoos , @sergeantrosabellaswan

[pippiessweathogs]

Welcome Back Kotter fanfiction: From Juan to Susie: A Mixtape

Part Six: Dream Weaver

                  It had been pouring all day. Epstein had nowhere to go so he spent much of the day in his bedroom. He had opened the window a little to hear the rain better. At one point he had also used the open window to blow out cigarette smoke, and tell himself he really was going to quit smoking one day.

               On a day like this, sitting and watching the rain was relaxing. Smoking the two or three, possibly four cigarettes that day really helped mellow him out. Normally he wouldn’t let the stresses of school bother him, but this past week, with back-to-back tests he surely failed, had gotten to him. He needed this rainy day to help him let go of everything.

               He tossed a cigarette butt out the window and watched lightening flicker across the sky. A cool breeze blew in and moved his hair. It felt so nice on his skin, along with a few drops of cool water that landed on his arm.

               Something outside caught his attention. He sat straighter and squinted his eyes to see better through the rain. Someone was running down the sidewalk across the street, completely soaked from the rain. He couldn’t tell who it was, but she was clearly distraught. When he saw this girl in her current state, his eyes widened. His breath froze in his lungs when he saw her trip and fall into a puddle. As soon as he saw this, he rushed out of his room and hurried downstairs for the front door. He quickly put on his shoes and then grabbed his coat before running out the front door.

               Keeping his eyes on the girl he stopped to make sure the traffic was clear. He hurried across the street and over to the girl to help her. She still remained in the puddle, distraught and crying. She shook, both from the cold rain and from being upset.

               “Hey honey, come here.” He helped her stand and put his coat over her shoulders.

               “Thank you.” She sniffed. “It’s been the worst day.” She looked at him, her blue eyes seeming to gleam in the rain.

               “Oh Cutie Pie!” He said in surprise. “What are you doing out here like this?”

               “It’s a long story. One I don’t really want to tell.”

               “Alright. Alright. Well let’s get you out of this rain.”

               He walked her across the street towards his house. Instead of heading to the front porch, he had her duck into the alley between his house and the nearby building. She looked at him confused when he had her stand under the awning.

“Juan I thought you were going to bring me inside.”

               “I am, I am. Just hang on a minute. I just remembered something that I have in my coat that I need to get rid of.”

               He searched the pockets of his coat before pulling out a folded test paper. He then took it to where it could get wet from the rain. He had to make sure the ink ran enough to disguise the fact it was yet another failed test.

               “Promised ma I’d do better this semester. Started out ok. But these past couple tests are going to kill her. Meant to get rid of this earlier but didn’t get the chance.”

               Once the test was thoroughly destroyed by the water, he wadded up the wet paper and shoved it in a crack in the wall of the house. He then turned to face Cutie Pie. There she stood, draped in his coat, looking helpless. She shivered as water dripped form her hair and down her face. His heart sank when he took a good look at her.

               “Oh honey.” He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. “You have to be freezing.”

               “Not as much as I was, since you gave me your coat.” She grinned a little.

               He reached out and gently moved some pieces of wet hair that were sticking to her face. Lovingly tucking the hair behind her ear, he grinned at her, looking into her eyes.

               “I don’t know how you managed to come in this area by yourself without anything happening to you. I mean worse than what I saw.”

               She grinned as she looked into his eyes. “I don’t know. But I’m glad you saw me.”

               “Me too.”

               He looked up to a second story window, which looked into his sister’s bedroom. Seeing that his sister had opened it to point a speaker out, he shook his head.

               “Looks like she plans on ruinin’ those speakers.”

               Before Cutie Pie could ask about this, music started blaring form the window. They recognized the song right away as Dream Weaver. Epstein shook his head and then looked at Cutie Pie. He was about to comment about his sister’s choices in music, but seeing Cutie Pie caused him to lose his train of thought. Unable to restrain himself from staring at her, he moved in a little closer. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her as close as possible. They looked into each other’s eyes, smiling softly.

               Something about seeing her soaking wet form the rain, her hair hanging down, partly in waves around her face, was alluring. It was clear she had once had it styled nicely but the rain had completely destroyed it. It suddenly looked longer than usual.

               He gently held her face in one hand, tilting it up a little. His hand glided down to loosely cup around her chin. He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss.

               Coming out of the kiss, she stared at him. But she wasn’t upset. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting some of the water. This time she reached up and kissed him. That was the kiss that did it.

               Their bodies were pressed together as they kissed. He turned her, allowing her to back up against the wall. His hands ran through her hair as he moved to kiss and nibble her on the neck. The music from the window played on, creating the perfect background. The song mixing with the rain made it possible for them to drift away and just melt with the magic of the atmosphere.

               He gently pressed her against the wall as he continued on her neck. She let out soft moans, tilting her head back some. He kissed her cheek and then moved in to whisper in her ear.

               “If only you knew how much I like you.”

               “I think I have a good idea.”

               He kissed her full on the lips. “I don’t think you do. I never felt this way about a girl before.”

               “I feel the same for you.”

               He smiled, feeling his heart skip a beat. He then continued kissing her, knowing that there was true feelings behind it for both of them. And this wasn’t like any other time he had ever made out with a girl. The feelings were real. He kissed her some more before looking at the falling rain.

               “I better get you inside to dry off. Looks like the rain ain’t going to stop any time soon.”

               “You’re probably right.”

               At first, he took her by the hand. He hesitated and then scooped her up into his arms. He then carried her to the front porch before helping her inside. Right away, they were met by his mother and one of his sisters, questioning them about what happened. Epstein, a bit sheepishly, explained how he saw her outside from his bedroom window and how he ran out to help her. Before he could say anything more, his mother took Cutie Pie to get a towel and look for some dry clothes. Epstein’s sister looked at him, smirking.

               “What?” He asked, confused

               “You sure took a while getting her inside here.”

               “It was a long walk.”

               “From across the street?” She rolled her eyes and laughed. Then she reached toward his neck, wiping off some lipstick. “What exactly were you doing with her out there?”

               “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Just listenin’ to music.”

               “Mmmhmm.”

               His sister smirked again before walking away. He didn’t care. He just stood by the door, permanent grin on his face, as the words to Dream Weaver circled through his brain.

 …

                 Cutie Pie walked to her locker. She stopped to open it and a couple books fell out. She sighed and then bent to pick them up. When she stood, with books in hand, she shrieked when she saw someone standing there.

               “Oh! Judy you startled me.”

               “Sorry Susie.” She crossed her feet at the ankles and leaned against the lockers. “I got something for you. Was told it was absolute top secret.”

               “Oh? What’s that?”

               “This note.” Judy handed her a folded piece of paper.

               Cutie Pie took the note frowning a bit as she carefully unfolded it. “Top secret huh?”

               She started reading the note, placing a hand over her chest in surprise.

               “Oh wow…. I don’t believe this.”

               “What is it?” Judy asked, curiosity rising.

               “Wow…” Cutie Pie read the note again, only aloud for Judy to hear it. “Dear Dream Weaver, fly me high through the starry skies. Maybe to an astral plane. Cross the highways of fantasy. Help me to forget today’s pain…. Of not being with you. Please say you’ll go out with me this Friday night.”

               “Whoa….” Judy looked at her, wide-eyed

               “I know. It’s the most romantic note I ever got. And the most romantic way anyone’s ever asked me out.”

               “Yeah I’d say! Who’s it from?”

               “Just says JE.” Cutie Pie smiled.

               “Don’t tell me Juan Epstein asked you out like that!”

               “Who else would it be? I mean how many students do you know here with these initials?”

               “Well there’s Jessica Emmerson.” Judy shook her head, frowning. “But she wouldn’t write any notes like that to you.”

               Cutie Pie laughed “Probably not.”

               “So…” Judy smirked and nudged her with her elbow. “What are you going to do? You going to go out with hum?”

               “I’m going to write him a note.”

               Cutie Pie looked in her locker for a notebook and a pen. She scribbled out a response to Epstein’s note and then ripped out the paper from the book. She folded the note and handed it to Judy.

               “Now remember, this note is top secret. Make sure it gets to Epstein.”

               “Sure, sure!” Judy smiled “You can count on me!” She laughed and then walked away.

 …

                 The note traveled the hallways, passing from student hand to student hand. Eventually it made its way to the boys’ gym class. Epstein left the locker room, dressed and reedy for class. He knelt down to tighten the laces of his shoes. As he did, another guy got his attention.

               “Hey Epstein.” The boy said. “Got something for you.”

               Epstein glanced up at him and then stood. “Yeah? What’s that?”

               “Someone gave me this note to give to you. All they said was, it was top secret.”

               “What? Gimmie that!” He snatched the note from him and then walked away to read it.

               It was then when his friends came over to him, and noticed the note. Freddie laughed and snatched it from him.

               “Hey look!” Freddie said “Juan’s got a note!” He teased, waving it around.

               “Hey Washington! Give that back!” Epstein exclaimed, reaching to grab the note.

               Freddie held the note up, as far as he could reach his arm above his head. “Come get it sho’ty.”

               Epstein placed his hands on his hips and frowned, unamused. “I said give that back. Or else.”

               “Or else what?” Freddie laughed

               “Or else,” Epstein held up a fist. “This is going to hit you so hard, your afro is going to fly off like a wig.”

               Freddie lowered his arm and handed Epstein the note. “We coo’. I was only playin’ you know that.”

               “Yeah yeah.” Epstein unfolded the note and started to read it.

               Horshack stood behind him, peeking over his shoulder. “So… what does it say?”

               “None of your business, Horshack.”

               “It says none of your business?”

               “Horshack!”

               Horshack ducked away, pleading for his life to be spared. Epstein shook his head and resumed reading the note.

               He grinned. “Hey!” he laughed a little before reading the note aloud, his friends gathering around him. “Though the dawn may be coming soon, there still may be some time. Fly me away to the bright side of the moon. And meet me on the other side. Dream Weaver, thoughts of you can get me through the night… until Friday. I’d love to go out with you.”

               All of his friends reacted audibly, expressing somewhat raunchy thoughts and congratulated Epstein on possibly getting laid on Friday.

               “Wow-how-how!” Vinnie exclaimed “Any girl who writes like that is definitely into you.”

               Freddie placed a hand on Epstein’s shoulder. “And from the way it sounds, you’ll have no problem gettin’ into her.”

               Epstein smiled and then read the note to himself again. He frowned in confusion. “What does SQ stand for?”

               Vinnie started thinking “SQ, SQ… No, sorry I’m drawing a blank. I don’t think I ever saw those initials in my black book anywhere.”

               “Wow, what a note, Epstein.“ Horshack said, pointing at the note. “There’s something written there by the Q. And they’re tiny itty bitty letters.”

               They all read the letters together. “T, P, Y.” They looked at each other confused.

               “SQ T P Y…” Epstein said to himself, trying to think it through. He said the letter a couple times until it occurred to him. “Q T Py! Cutie Pie!” he laughed “Wow. That’s clever.”

               “Yeah but what about the S?” Vinnie asked

               Epstein shrugged “I’m sure it’s part of her real initials.”

               “Yeah. But initials for what?” Freddie asked

               “I dunno. She never told me her real name.”

               “She never told anyone her real name.” Horshack laughed

               Vinnie laughed, patting Epstein on the back. ”Either way, you’ve got a hot date for Friday night!”

               Epstein grinned and looked at the note. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

               “So…” Horshack said “What are you going to wear?”

               Epstein shoved him away and rolled his eyes. He stuck the note into his pocket, and then the four of them joined the rest of the gym class. Epstein realized then that gym class was going to be both miserable and incredible. That was all because he was not going to be able to get Cutie Pie off his mind, and he didn’t want to.

 …

                 Cutie Pie stared at Epstein, her eyes twinkling. She smiled softly, allowing the story that was told to rush over her before settling into her heart.

               “Juan… that was so romantic.”

               “It was.” He grinned “And our stories just keep getting better.”

               She moved in and kissed him tenderly. Breaking the kiss, she looked into his eyes. “So,” she cleared her throat, “what’s the next song?”

               “Oh it’s something kinda special.” He pressed play. “Just listen.”

               A few moments later, the music began to play. Cutie Pie smiled, recognizing the song, and moved in closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder as she listened to the music.