#their first interaction is throwing insults at each other through their rolled down windows

[exequien]

fic prompt

current steter brainworms/fic prompt:

Stiles is driving on a deserted road and accidentally blocks Peter from passing him a couple times. When Peter finally speeds past him, he insults Stiles' driving skills (and him) and flips him the finger. A couple miles later, Peter has a flat tire, no tools to fix it and no reception to call anyone. Luckily, Stiles catches up to him soon. Will he decide to help the asshole from earlier?

strangers and enemies to ...something XD

[potatomountain]

CIY CH 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Final puzzle pieces" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark romance, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, kidnapping, captive reader, guns, threats 📍AN: finally got it done, but it's just one thing after another now haha whoops 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts and occasionally @daemour 📍dividers and banner made by me! ageless blocks will be blocked immediately if you interact with this post

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The sting reverberating through your cheek woke you up, followed by mumbled obscenities. If you wanted to open your eyes, now you didn't, not when you recognized the voice.

Jongho. 

“I know you're awake, your breathing changed.” 

Huffing, you relented and peaked an eye open, wincing at the harsh light swinging above you. You lifted your head that had been hanging back haphazardly, attempting to bring a hand up to block out the bright light but you found them tied…  to the chair you were in.

Blood running cold you tested the ropes, glancing down at yourself to at least take notice you weren’t in the clothes you had been before. Even cleaned up, modest tee-shirt and jeans, hair pulled out of your face but no bra and underwear. “Who the fuck cleans someone up they plan on killing?” You scoffed out, forcing your anger to the surface and everything else into a box in the back of your heart to better deal with this situation.

After all, who the fuck would fuck someone like that just to tie them up like this?

It was so hard to believe them when they did such contradicting stuff like this. And to leave you with Jongho? The man that wanted nothing to do with you?

Your glare matched his, even if your head was throbbing. No windows or outside light to give you a time so who knew how long you were out for. It didn’t make sense to be out long enough for this after what had happened, but could you get answers? Did it even matter? “Why don’t you just kill me?” You spat out instead, gaze running over his attire as he was now leaning against the only door in the room. Ripped jeans, black sweater pushed up his elbows and for once, no gloves. You could make out some lettering on his knuckles, three on each hand but from the angle, you couldn’t tell what they were.

He caught you looking, flexing his hands before running the palms over his thighs and displaying the tattoo: P-I-R-A-T-E. If he was trying to intimidate you, it didn’t work, you were already expecting your death. You knew you had fucked up bad, so this was your own fault. Plus… what did you really have to fight for? You were a realist, there was no getting out of this. You couldn’t take down a group of skilled men that had ties in both the justice system and criminal world. But you also didn’t think they had a place for you among their group, not anymore.

Those hopes were dashed.

“You look pathetic.” Jongho sneered out, snapping your attention back to his face. “Given up already?” “I’m not delusional, I know how this ends for me.” Did you have the resources and resilience to run? Not without throwing your pride aside for abandoning your job. Your life meant less than your pride apparently.

Jongho rolled his eyes and closed the distance, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re a fucking idiot.” “So I’ve learned. Have any other new insults or will you just end it already?” This time you literally spat in his face, right on his cheek. He wiped it away slowly, the anger in his gaze much fiercer than any he had shown before. This must be how he really felt about you.

How could have things worked out with the unit with him like this anyways? Your own anger began to dissipate, a feeling of helplessness rising up to choke your bruised throat.

“You held a gun to Hwa-” “Ah so you want to beat me up first for threatening the pretty man? Well do it.” “They would have told you if you just asked.” He snapped back, voice raised, You rolled your eyes, struggling with the ropes. “And why should I have? You lot haven’t been the most welcoming. You made it perfectly clear, and still are, that I am not welcome here. Why should I have trusted you wouldn’t do this in the first place if I had come to them?!”

Perhaps it was the throbbing of your own head but you thought he winced at your words. Just imagining things, you told yourself. “So you threaten us first?!” He spat out, fists clenched at his side. “What else do I have left to lose?” Your tone shifted, the weight of your actions, the pain this entire ordeal had inflicted on you, finally reared it’s ugly head. “I have nothing. Nothing but my pride. So just kill me. Get it over with. If you’re going to anyways, just do it. I’m no use to you alive, I have nothing you gain from keeping me like this.” Your head drooped forward, shoulders slumped. It was the truth, you had no value, no worth, and nothing more to fight for.

Silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity, but if you counted your breaths it was a meer couple seconds. 

“This is why you should've stayed away. This life takes everything from you." There was an ache in his voice that shocked you, but not as much as the pure defeated pain on his features when you looked up.

It had occurred to you before, that each of them had some ties or reason to really hate the criminal underground and one of the existing families. Seonghwa’s parents trying to sell his sister off to the Golden Circle- Yunho’s father dying in a hit, Mingi’s own troubled adolescence running for the gangs. Yeosang’s program is owned by the red wolves, Wooyoung’s mother being the head of the Pink Boa’s… but you hadn’t once thought about Jongho.

You had tried not to think about him as often as possible, but now you couldn't help but wonder. What had happened to him that he didn’t want you getting involved with this life? For a moment, you wondered if he had been worried about you.

It was dashed away when you heard other voices and he made his speedy escape out of the room. Sure you were now curious but what right did you have to know?

You didn’t expect to leave this, well what looked like a safe house, alive.

Unfortunately Jongho didn’t come right back, leaving you to stew in your rage, fear, and sadness. You didn’t like to be left alone with your thoughts for too long, then you would start to doubt yourself.

But what choice did you have? What outcome could you think of that you haven’t already? The potential to join them? So that you could live?

The longer you stayed tied to the chair, the more dying seemed like a better option. You were ready to give in, to give up. Pride be damned. Your parents be damned. S.K and your friends be damned. You were tired.

Minutes dragged on until you were sure an hour passed, hearing no sounds outside the door. You debated attempting to escape, but the camera in the corner of the room dashed that idea. “Are you enjoying this? Fucking pervert, always watching.” You taunted, staring down the camera so you didn’t have to think. If you attempted to escape, Yeosang would just alert the others… Was that how Yunho knew? Did Yeosang alert them that you took Seonghwa into your apartment? He did admit to having access to the camera’s in the halls, but that didn’t sit right with you. How would they know that you meant harm? How would they know you weren’t just going to fuck the man?

Because if they knew, why would Seonghwa even go into your apartment? Why kiss you? Why would he let you see his tattoo? It didn’t make sense, and you were far too mentally exhausted to continue mulling it over. So, taunting an imaginary enemy sounded plenty fun. “Are you salty Yeosang? I figured things out before you had a chance huh? Kinda liked you watching. Pretty and smart but that little perverted side?” You licked your lips and tilted your head. “Kinda hot. Too bad I can’t see how you’re reacting to all this? Getting stuck watching me while you all- what? Decide how to make me disappear?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “As smart and resourceful as you lot are, I’m surprised you didn’t have a plan for this set up just in case.” Or was this the plan? Were they just keeping you occupied until they had it all put in place?

If that was the case, you didn’t want to wait around for that… well it wasn’t smart to do so. What you wanted was entirely different from what you needed to do to get out of this. You should escape, at least attempt to. You should be giving your all to trying to live another day. To survive.

But those doubts you had pushed to the back of your mind earlier were now pushing forward once more, asking you why you should even try? They just grew stronger the more you struggled. The ropes were thick, rubbing your wrists raw as you struggled but that was the only part of your body exposed to them. Your ankles, knees, and waist were all tightly bound over your clothing. You could potentially grab the chair by the armrests your hands were tied to and prop yourself onto you feet awkwardly to smash it against a wall, but the chair seem bolted to the ground.

So after working up a bit of a sweat struggling, you slumped in the seat and glared at the camera. Still no Jongho, or anyone else, just you, a camera, and your thoughts.

Your thoughts easily won. Minutes ticked by to another hour- maybe more- as you mentally cycled through your life for some purpose to live for, as well as something to bargain or a different outcome than this. Maybe the past few weeks meant enough to them they’d just have you leave the country?

Would you go? Could you trust them enough to agree? No, you didn’t think you could. You had to admit to yourself, whatever connection you had felt growing between you and them felt foreign and broken now. You couldn’t trust it, trust that they weren’t playing you like a chess piece. They hadn’t wanted you there from the beginning, and you were going to cause problems… of course they would’ve played on your vulnerability to get you compliant enough to stay out of their way. That’s what you would have done if the roles were reversed. You mulled over everything they had done. The harsh words, the cold shoulder, the disgust at you: an outsider. The tests, the praise, the desire that had grown and become more visible from them the longer you were there. Yeosang and Mingi having your side against Chan. Seonghwa’s comfort and understanding, his kisses, what he had said to Minho and Chan at the cafe.

“Our treasure.”

Taking in deep breaths to fight off the tears, you shifted your attention back to anything else. It was no good to focus on those things, not when those very same men had you tied to a chair at a location you didn’t know. 

It was when you finally got your emotions under control, pushed those feelings back to the box enough you no longer felt like suffocating on them, that the door opened finally.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa stepped in, wearing gaudy outfits that really solidified they were mafia for you. As if they should be on the streets starting a fight, yet for a brief moment you let yourself admit they were attractive. Fur hats suited the Captain, and Seonghwa in a low cut gold shirt, neck tattoos on full display, and with black hair styled in a half updo? Somehow he was intimidating.

His eyes softened on you though, while Hongjoong shoved his hands in his jeans and rocked on his heels, not meeting your eyes.

Somehow you managed to keep your cool, relaxing your shoulders and watching Seonghwa through disinterested eyes. “So, no one is denying it. I want to hear it.” “We’re the Black Pirates.” Hongjoong chimed in before Seonghwa could, stepping up to his second in command and lazily drooping his arm over his shoulder. “Half of us were in it before the unit, the other half joined through the unit.” The man smirked as your eyes went wide, a sparkle of hope in them. 

You dashed it away as quickly as you could though. “How did you know I was questioning Seonghwa?” “I had Yunho and Jongho install cameras in your apartment when they helped you move in.” Seonghwa admitted, tearing his eyes away from yours. “We’ve had tabs on your phone and laptop as well.”

The anger in the back of your chest tried to rear up again, but you didn’t let it despite a clench of your jaw and a few tightly wound words. “Is that so…” “Ever since you saw my tattoo at the gym, we have been taking some precautions. You are a firecracker after all, an unpredictable one at that.” Hongjoong added, keeping eye contact as he smiled at the sprinkle of praise in his words. You could hear it in his tone, attempting to block it out of your heart. “So when Seonghwa would pick you up, Yunho was to follow a few minutes behind. He acted the second you pulled the gun out, not far from your place already and we had a duplicate of your key just in case.” “I know Yunho getting involved messed some things up-” Seonghwa paused when you scoffed, frowning as it was now your turn not to look them in the eye. “I wanted to talk to you as calmly as I could. Remind you that we do give a damn about you.” “Is that what that fuck was about?” Blinking back tears, you narrowed your eyes on the pretty man, chanting in your head not to break down. You had done that enough around them. “You enjoyed it didn’t you?” Hongjoong quipped out, stepping up to you and taking your chin in his hand. He was much more gentle than Jongho but still firm. “Firecracker… come on, don’t turn us away. I promise we were going to tell you. Just have… some things to clean up first. Now that you know we are the Black Pirates, think about our position. What we have at stake.” You wanted to argue, but his words did ring in your head. San was still in trouble, even more so if he was a Pirate and a cop and they found out. “Then… why? Why are you a crime syndicate when you’re also the legal unit responsible for taking it down?” Hongjoong dropped his hand, standing up and pocketing his hands in his jeans. “Because as one or the other we’ll never be able to shape the underworld into what we need. Seonghwa will lose his sister to the Golden Circle. Wooyoung’s mother will always be under their thumb, unable to get out. Yunho will never get justice for his father… These are all stories you’ve heard of ours and they’re true. The combined power is the best we got.”

“Angel…” Seonghwa stepped up and knelt next to you, expression soft as he cupped your cheek. “We aren’t going to kill you. But you have to make a decision. Either you have to join us, which we hoped you would, or we can arrange for you to leave the country or countryside. We can pull strings so your law enforcement credentials are still valid and can get you a career elsewhere.” The most telling thing was that they didn’t want to kill you. You could see it on their faces. The softness of Seonghwa’s features, the desperation in his eyes, and the way Hongjoong was fidgeting and avoiding your gaze.

It was the loud way your stomach grumbled that broke the heavy tension, Seonghwa fighting off a smile while you tried not to let heat build in your cheeks at just how loud it was. “I think food is in order first. We’ll go make you something and give you time to think about it.” “And by we he means him. I’ll uh, supervise.” Hongjoong offered a charming smile that did calm some of your nerves somehow.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes as he pulled the man by the cardigan to the door. “You will update some of our very worried members about Angel’s state. If I remember correctly, Wooyoung had some very nasty threats if you didn’t update him about her state before nightfall, and it is evening already.”

“We were giving her time to think things over first!” “Well now she has some more. Come come, go make that call.” Seonghwa pushed Hongjoong out of the room, smiling back at you. “Think about it, we’ll untie you to eat and talk things over… like partners okay?” How could your heart not swell with affection? 

The moment the door was shut you were grinning, unable to help yourself. Crime bosses they might be, but they acted like an adorable married couple at times. And they reassured you the offer to join them, fully, was still on the table.

You could remember both your promise to Haru and to Yunho. They knew this was coming, and now you could see they were asking you to really think this over once it was time. You didn’t know what it meant to be a part of a crime syndicate, considering the other ones at play in the city, but you could not imagine them selling people or producing drugs just for profit or pimping out young girls. Perhaps you could ask them about what their organization actually did, since they worked so hard to keep the Black Pirates out of law enforcement reports, your knowledge over them was limited after all.

Relaxing as you thought of what questions to ask, what was important in your decision, you heard chaos outside your door. It had only been maybe ten minutes since you were left alone, and now Seonghwa was busting through the door. You could hear yelling now, multiple voices, and he seemed disheveled. 

“Time to go Angel.” He moved around you to start undoing the knots, but got frustrated and just started cutting them instead. “What’s going on?” Most of the yells you heard were screams of pain, while words were too muffled to hear but none were Hongjoong. “Ambush. Crimson Wolves by the looks of it. Yeosang no doubt has the others on the way for back up but I don’t think we’re making it out of here.” There was a hardness to his tone that frightened you, but no panic. Seonghwa probably didn’t think they were going to die here. So captured and tortured? Your blood ran cold. “Let me help.” He chuckled, finally freeing you and handing you the knife. “They would kill you. It’ll ease our minds if you get out and find one of the others. Left of the hallway there is a backdoor. Find the alley and keep running left until you hit main street. You’ll know where you are and can head back to Yeosang okay?” In a moment of desperation, he kissed you.

Not a goodbye kiss, but there was a desperation there you could taste. Your lips lingered for a second, Hongjoong’s cry for Hwa pulling him away.

One last longing look and he was gone. Now you could run, head to Yeosang, or just run in general. Maybe to SK.

Or, you could try and fight. Make up your mind about where you want to belong. FIght for it.

You left the room with a new found determination, your choice made. There was no going back now.

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[midgardianweasley]

Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[flareish]

Rival

akaashi x reader

summary: you and akaashi are fighting for that #1 class rank. however there is not just a scholarship at stake here but some deeply hidden feelings too

genre: rivals to lovers

word count: 2.1k

warnings: kissing, there is a kinda sexual joke

a/n: ahhh! my first request thank you so much! I haven’t written for akaashi yet but he is so great so I hope this does him justice. Love our pretty setters. 

Rage consumes you. You want to throw Akaashi out of the wall of windows right now. It’s only one test you tell yourself. One test that he managed to scrape in one point higher than you. You got 99% and somehow this idiot gets 100%. Quickly putting your stuff away you try and slip out of class before you he finds out. You would like to avoid his snarky remarks. 

“Oh, that’s a pretty good score.” Too late. Akaashi has appeared from behind you, smugness ran through his sarcastic comment. You compose yourself and bounce right back.

“Thought I’d give you a little something since I’ve been crushing your scores lately.” You fire back. He’s not the only one who can play at this game.

“Careful you might just give the spot away at this point.” That spot being #1 in class rank as well as the hefty academic scholarship that goes with it. The spot you’ve occupied for the past two years and suddenly this guy comes out of nowhere and tries to take it from you, right before it really matters. 

“Haha. Well some of us actually have stuff to do. Have fun playing with your balls.” You walk straight past him and out the class. He held a smug grin the whole time. No matter what you did it never left his face. The amount of insults you’ve thrown at each other and every time it’s you who always gets bested. 

Anger fueling your walk to the point onlookers might think you were exercising, not walking home from school. You make it home in record time. As soon as you’re in your room you immediately start studying. You’ve never had to study this hard before in your life. You don’t mean to sound conceded but academics just kinda came easy to you. Sure, you had your rough patches but you just seemed to absorb information. You didn’t really have many other passions either but your parents always said that could come later right now isn’t for fun and games it is for learning. So learn you did. 

The next day, your teacher had started a new project and decided to assign partners. 

“Akaashi and Y/N. You two will be working together.” What did you do to deserve this? You remain in your seat waiting for him to come over but he never does. You look over and see him still sat there, reclined back in his seat talking with Bokuto who sat behind him. That’s when you realize he is waiting for you to move over there. Cocky bastard. Taking a deep breath, you swallow your pride and move over there.

“Please don’t rush, I would hate for you to strain yourself.” You snap sitting down. “That’s so great you got the hint, I wasn’t planning on getting up. Thank you for being so obedient.” Still wearing that grin. Oh, what you would do to slap it off of his face. You ignore him and start working on the project. He simply resumes his conversation with Bokuto, who never does the projects anyway. Seems like you will be doing this all by yourself. Half of you is tempted to purposefully fail but then it would just hurt your grade too. Although it would be pretty funny to see his face. He ignored you for the rest of the class. Once again you part ways.

When you go home and open your computer to continue working on the project to find that it has been already done. Did he seriously not lift a finger in class just to do a rush job right before his volleyball practice. You roll your eyes before reading through his work. You realize it hadn’t been a rush job at all but was perfect. Now you weren’t sure to be happy he actually did it or pissed that it was better than what you could have done. 

After you’ve cooled down a bit you take a moment to think. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think. You’ve never taken the time to think about why he is doing this. You just immediately jumped on that he was out to get you. That’s pretty childish now you think about it. Maybe he really needs this academic scholarship so he can go to college. There is no way you can be nice to him but perhaps you could be tolerant. You weren’t giving him that scholarship though. No matter how much he needed it, you did too. 

The next day in class you are determined to stick by your discovery. With it including being nicer to Akaashi. You were talking to your friend when he came into the classroom.

“You’re so loud Y/N I swear I could hear you from across the school.” You don’t say anything just look at him and smile. You almost see his grin falter, you’re not sure if he is surprised or scared at your smile.

“Wow have I finally broken you.” You keep ignoring him. This annoys him and he pokes you. You swat at him and he chuckles before walking off. Your friend laughs at the two of you. The teacher came into the room and everyone quickly settled down and class began. You could feel Akaashi’s stare from across the room but you didn’t dare look at him.

When class ended you are your friend took your time and ended up being the last people in the classroom.

“So is ignoring him your next idea?” Your friend asks amused by the earlier interaction, “Can’t beat him then just will him out of existence.”

“No, I’m trying to be a nicer person and embrace competition.” Your friend bursts out laughing.

“That’s not going to last long. Before you know it you will be at his throat again.”

“I don’t know. Think why does he want to be #1 so badly? The scholarship. He probably needs it for college.” You say seriously.

“Ha! As if.” Your friend laughs as if she knows something you don’t.

“Why is he secretly loaded of something?” You ask kinda curious as you pack up your stuff.

“I don’t know about that but I do know he already has multiple athletic scholarships lined up.” You pause at that.

“What?” You are in complete and utter disbelief. If he didn’t need this scholarship what was the point in stealing it from you. Did he seriously hate you that much? You were beyond angry now. You throw your stuff in your bag messily and march out of the class room heading straight for the gyms. If he wanted this scholarship so badly from you, you were going to get an answer. 

As you near the gyms however you hear something that stops you in your tracks.

“Are you seriously going to study for all those classes tonight?” One of his teammates asked in shock.

“He’s got to if he wants to keep up with Y/N.” Another teases. You make sure you are out of sight and continue listening in. 

“Wait why do you compete with Y/N. I thought you were a jock, not a nerd.” You hear laughter and something being thrown at someone. 

“Can’t you see? Our Akaashi is smitten!” You recognize Bokuto’s voice.

“Shut up you dumb owl.” Akaashi didn’t deny it though.

“He’s so crazy for them that he decided to bring his class ranking up so they would notice him,” Bokuto breaks into laughter “But now they just hate him. We got a real  player here, am I right.”

You hear Akaashi yell at him and then you hear some hitting and decide to leave before you got caught. However, not once did you hear Akaashi deny it. He was just silent and then would yell at them for outing him. For telling the truth.

Akaashi likes you.

What an idiot. Who decides the way about trying to get to know someone is by threatening their biggest goal?! You can’t deny though he’s not the only smitten one. Although lately, you have absolutely hated him, before all this you actually had a crush on him. You never acted on it because you were so busy with academics. Is now a second chance? You decided to wait for him after practice. 

By some miracle he is the last one left in the gym, meaning you can confront him without an audience.

“What are you waiting to jump me? I’ll warn you I’m not afraid to fight back.” He snapped at you but you kept quiet. This silence was driving him crazy. At least when you were arguing back with him you were acknowledging him but now. It was like he didn’t exist all over again. He was about to lose it when you spoke up. 

“You know there are better ways to gain someone affection than trying to take the scholarship that they have been working towards for the past three years away from them.” It was your turn to shoot him a smug look. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. For once you’ve caught him off guard, good and proper.

“Wha-Who said I wanted your affections.” He tried to play it off but it was written all over his face. He truly did like you.

“You know I would have said yes.” You say nonchalantly as you begin to walk away. He snaps out of his confused stupor and grabs your arm, turning you around.

“What did you just say.” No longer is he embarrassed or caught off guard but intense and desperate. Like he had misheard what you just said. Like it was a dream.

“That maybe if you had just asked me, I would have said yes.” You try to be as confident as you were a moment ago but that was hard with a blush spreading across your cheeks.

“And what about right now?” He asked, almost pleaded. This was no longer the Akaashi you had known the past year. This was something different. Something raw and intense. 

“What?” You were shocked. Was he seriously about to ask you out? Like this?

“All I ever wanted was you to talk to me. I thought that if I got my rank up that you would respect me, that I’d be smart enough to hold a conversation with you. But no matter how high my rank went, it never felt good enough so I decided that #2 would be the greatest spot I could reach. Then instead of getting you admiration and praise, you thought I was trying to steal your spot. Maybe I should have just explained then that I wasn’t but you were actually talking to me. What if after I explained it we just went back to the way it was before. Suddenly we had some common ground, so I just kept going. When you stopped talking to me today, I hated it so much. So please I know our relationship is in a weird place and we’re not even friends but-” He trailed off. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. 

It was so strange to see him like this. Normally, even with his friends, he was guarded, quick-witted, confident. Now he was so vulnerable. It sparked something in you. At first, it was just a quick thought in your brain but before you knew it your body was moving. Acting on it.

You pulled your arm out of his grasp and with it his face dropped, thinking this was you rejecting him. You didn’t pay it any mind and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling his stupidy tall body down.

With that, you kissed him.

He was frozen for a moment before jumping back to life. His hands came up to your face and he kissed you back as if he would never get the chance to again. He definitely wasn’t expecting this but he wasn’t going to waste this once in a lifetime opportunity. Eventually, you pulled away and his lips chased yours back. You caught his eyes and he relented. 

“Maybe we could work something out.” You say began a smug smile. You run your hand down his side and into his pocket, his eyes blew wide in surprise not really sure what you were doing. You pulled his phone out of the pocket and started putting your number in.

“Call me tonight.” When you handed him his phone back he matched your smug smile with one of his own. 

“You bet.” He said as he watched you walk off. Once your back was turned you couldn’t help but let out a giddy giggle.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one! 

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration) 

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.  

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

**

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

**

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.  

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.  

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."  

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."  

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

[booksarelife-stuff]

Godric’s Hollow’s 286th Annual Lawn Competition

My entry for the August Jily Challenge! @jilychallenge

Prompt:  my mother hired you to mow the lawn but can you put your shirt back on its distracting me, and omg stOP grinning at me like that I’m swooning (I did not follow this at all)

Between adjusting to her new town and the hot rude neighbor, Lily is determined to prove herself in Godric’s Hollow by winning their annual lawn competition. Featuring both shirtless Lily and James. 

My partner was the amazing @joyseuphoria, whose creativity and ideas really helped me write this fic! She came up with so many fun ideas and was a great partner!

Word Count: 5,075

Read on Ao3      Masterlist

When Lily opened the door to her small cottage to the outside, she took in the fresh air. 

Godric’s Hollow was so different from her and Marlene’s old apartment back in London. She could open her door and find a bright blue sky and fresh air instead of the stale smell that the hallway had reeked of. It was a nice and welcomed change.

She pulled the door behind her, taking a second to lock the door. Just as she turned to walk down her small concrete path to the sidewalk, she heard a sudden exclamation. 

She whipped her head around just as the words “Dibs!” left the tall man standing on his own walkway right by some overgrown bushes.  

He was looking right at her. There was no mistaking what or who was talking about. His eyes widened dramatically as Lily met his eyes. The man’s friend in front of him doubled over with laughter. 

“Did you just call ‘dibs’ on me?” she asked, anger coloring her voice. 

“No…” The man said, his tone culpable. His friend shook his head, still holding back laughs. “Well okay, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking!”

Lily didn’t want to hear whatever half-assed explanation the man was going to stammer out to her. She just rolled her eyes and continued on her way to the sidewalk, not paying attention to whatever the man was saying to her. 

As Lily stomped her way to her first day at her new job, she hoped she would lose the bad attitude and that man was not her neighbor. 

But of course, Lily’s hope meant nothing. 

That very night, there was a knock on her door shortly after she just got back from work. Lily groaned slightly, pulling herself off her couch and navigated through the maze of boxes she still hadn’t unpacked. 

She stubbed her toe on her entryway table and was holding back curses as she opened the door to see four men standing on her stoop. One of which was the man from the morning. 

“Hello,” the shortest man said, smiling. He was pale blonde and seemed to have not lost the baby fat on his face even though he had to be at least Lily’s age. “We’re your neighbors and we wanted to introduce ourselves after the little mishap this morning.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot up. 

“And we want to know what to call you besides Dibs,” the man with shoulder-length wavy black hair said. He had a smirk on his lips that Lily knew just meant trouble. The dibs man, who was trying to hide in the back besides being one the tallest, smacked him lightly on the head. 

“What Sirius meant to say is that we want to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m Remus,” the tallest of the group with a light white scar across his face. “This is Sirius. Peter’s over to the right. And the one who called dibs is James.”

James groaned. “You guys said you weren’t going to do this to me!”

“And you trusted us?” the blonde, Peter said, innocently. 

“The last time that I do,” James said, glaring at Peter. Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus’s smile didn’t waver. 

“Are you guys just going to bicker on my doorstep?” Lily asked, leaning in the door jam, her arms crossed. Three pairs of eyes flickered back to her, James looking at the ground. 

“No, sorry. We really are here to make introductions,” Peter said, smiling. 

Lily assessed the men for a second. Her eyes stopped for a moment on James. She took in the large square frames and his curly hair. She moved on when she realized that she had spent a moment too long on him. 

She took a deep breath and made her millionth introduction for the day. 

“I’m Lily,” she said. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you. If you ever need anything, just call ‘Dibs’ really loudly and James will come running,” Sirius said, his smile seemingly sincere. 

“Man, fuck you guys. I’m getting new flatmates!” James said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

The ribbing on their mate brought a smile to her face, but the man was far from forgiven.

~~~

Lily wondered if her own small town had oddities like Godric’s Hollow. From the people to some of the town events, there seemed to be something that broke her brain a little bit. 

Like Bathilda, the sweet old woman who came into the library where Lily worked every day. 

Bathilda would come in, walking faster than Lily did, but with a walker, to where the new movies were placed. Ever since Bathilda found out Lily wasn’t from Godric’s Hollow, Bathilda would tell Lily all the town history she knew. From claiming there was magic or a coven of witches here to what the last mayor did to get impeached, Bathilda told Lily all of it. 

Like a true customer service worker, Lily just smiled and nodded. She enjoyed Bathilda’s stories but she didn’t really believe them. 

“Ah, it’s summer!” Bathilda said, giving Lily a bright smile, a stack of movies balancing on her walker as she approached the circulation desk. “The lawn competition should be starting soon.”

“Lawn competition?” Lily asked, reaching forward and grabbing the movies when they were in reach. 

“Aye,” Bathilda said, her white hair that was in a bun moving as she nodded her head. “It started right after they burned all the witches here. To bring back nature to the area.”

Lily just nodded, not knowing what else to say to Bathilda. 

“You best be planning for it. Some folks here take it really seriously,” Bathilda warned. 

Based on everything Lily knew about the population here, a lawn competition is exactly something the people would take seriously. 

Lily didn’t think much of the lawn competition until she got home and saw a colorful flyer on her doorstep with her newspaper. 

Godric’s Hollow’s 286th Annual Lawn Competition- Bringing native plants and beauty back to the Hollow.

Lily frowned as she inspected the poster. She needed to pay closer attention to Bathilda’s stories. 

She heard the jingle of keys coming from the boy’s house and she looked to see if it was Remus. 

Unfortunately, it was James leaving. He had his running clothes on, shorts, and a fitted t-shirt. He had a sweatband holding back his bangs. 

She had come to like her neighbors in the month of her being in Godric’s Hollow. She was particularly fond of Remus, but being fond of him meant that a fondness had grown for the others as well, even with their stupid nicknames for each other. 

Lily was even fond of James too. Just a little bit. The dibs incident wasn’t forgotten and though he apologized, he never fully explained what it was really about. 

He was better with his friends, in Lily’s eyes. With his friends, he was goofy and outgoing. He could make the whole group laugh to tears. But whenever he and Lily interacted alone, it was painfully awkward and he almost always managed to insult Lily in some way. 

She sighed and called out anyway just as James was putting his headphones on. 

“Hey, James!” she yelled. James jumped and turned, pulling a bud out. 

“Hello, Lily,” he said, politely. “Need something?”

She waved the flyer and James' eyes followed it, trying to see what it was. Even with his glasses, he was still blind as a bat. 

“What’s this all about?”

“The lawn competition?” he asked, walking across his small yard to the waist-high fence that separated their land. 

“So it’s a real thing?” she asked, frowning. James nodded as he leaned against the fence. 

“The old tale here is that it started after the last witches were burned,” James said. Lily blinked at him in disbelief, but James looked as neutral as ever, so she decided to just move on. 

“What do you do for it? Water your grass or something?” Lily asked. James let out a breath of air like a silent laugh. 

“No. It’s all about bringing plants native to the area back. And in the last decade or so, it’s kinda turned into a competition of who can do the most ridiculous things.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “Ridiculous things like what?”

James looked amused, his hazel eyes sparkling. “I think the winner last year made some constellations out of corncockles.”

This town was crazy. Grade A, certified crazy. 

“It’s optional though. You don’t have to participate,” James continued. “People here spend years planting to just win one year. You’ll have some stiff competition.”

Lily felt the flare of anger at his words. “So you don’t think I can win?” she asked, crossing her arms and crushing the flyer. Lily knew she was being a bit competitive, but everything to do with James set her on edge. 

James seemed to have picked up on Lily’s temper flaring. He stopped leaning the fence and straightened up. 

“I didn’t say that. I just said some people spend years planning to win,” James reiterated.

Lily narrowed her eyes. 

“Well, I’m going to win,” Lily said. James huffed. 

“Good luck with that,” James said, turning away and popping a headphone into his ear. 

Lily let out a noise. “I’d like to see you win with those overgrown hedges!” 

James turned around and smiled brightly. “Those are for the competition!”

Lily stared at his back as he started off in a jog down the street. Once he was out of view, she took a survey of her yard. 

There wasn’t much. Just grass and a small tree. She looked back to the boy’s yard and it did look like it had a lot more potential than Lily’s. Greener grass, some shrubbery, and window boxes that have yet to be filled. 

Lily headed up to her front door, determined to spend the night researching plants and grass. And why witches getting accused and burned would start a lawn competition. 

~~~

There was a plant nursery in Godric’s Hollow. There was no website, no place for her to browse the catalog before making any purchases. Just a Facebook page that got updated once a month with grainy pictures. 

It was better than Lily expected when she finally dragged herself there after work. There were a few people browsing, one man had a large cart filled with pallets of various plants. Like a lot. Lily wondered if he was the corncockle constellations guy. 

Google only took Lily so far with her research, so she looked in the gardening section at the library and had found out that someone had written a book about native plants, specific to the region; The Southern England Guide to Native Plants and Shrubs by Euphemia Potter. She had that open in her hand as she walked around the nursery. 

She did a quick walk around, trying to identify what plants were in the book. Most of them she could find, but based on the care instructions, her yard wouldn’t be good for them. 

She paused in front of a plant labeled “Pitcher Plant”. It looked weird, but she supposed it would do. She was flipping through the book, trying to find out what the care instructions were when she felt someone beside her. 

“Don’t use that plant,” James said, making Lily jump. She glared at him as she rightened herself. 

“And why is that?” she asked. 

“It’ll discount you from the competition,” he said, touching one of the stems. “It’s an invasive species.”

Lily tore her eyes away from James, back to the plant. 

“This plant also eats insects,” he pointed out. “Bad for the bees.”

“Oh,” Lily breathed. “Yeah, I don’t want that.”

She closed the book and sighed, and looked back at James to see him staring at the book in her hands. 

“Nice book,” he said with a small smile. She looked back down to it and made the connection. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know Euphemia, would you?” she asked, her eyes trailing the Potter after Euphemia on the book cover. 

“I knew her very well,” James said, his eyes turning soft for a quick second. “I think there’s a section in there, around page 203. Most of those plants work with our yard type.”

Despite the sincerity in his voice, her eyes narrowed. She took in his lanky form and his hair that was getting frizzier by the second thanks to the humidity. 

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, crossing her arms. James laughed and ran a hand through his hair, making some curls stick straight up. 

“I just don’t want you to start an invasive plant plague here,” he said, smirking. “It would ruin my lawn too.”

“I wasn’t going to use it if it wasn't in the book!” she pointed out. James gave her a look and Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m not some saboteur!” 

“Yeah, I didn’t peg for the type,” he said, frowning. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“Your nice is rather pointed and mean if you haven’t noticed.”

James just let out a laugh. “Only to you, Evans.”

~~~

The sun was hot and beating down on Lily’s shoulders as she was on her knees, squinting at a piece of paper that was just getting dirty as she tried to dig the appropriate depth for the honeysuckle bushes she bought. 

She still had no idea what she was doing with her lawn, but she figured she could just add in some plants to spaces anyway to liven up her yard. 

It was kind of relaxing, she had come to realize. All the research aside; she was able to just dig and place a pretty thing down in her yard. Tomorrow she could look out the window and admire her work. 

And it was something to preoccupy her time. Normally, her weekends had been full of just sitting on the couch, reading, or watching something on the television. Boredom would creep in usually, or the overwhelming feeling of missing her friends. 

But so far, gardening had kept her preoccupied. She didn’t feel that same loneliness creep in as she neared the two-hour mark of her being out there. 

She also talked to Remus a bit, telling him about the newest book she read. She shared a wave with Sirius as he hopped onto his obnoxiously loud motorbike. 

It wasn’t until her fourth honeysuckle was in the ground, that she looked up at the sound of humming and instantly regretted that decision. 

There was James, headphones in his ears and humming away. He had an assortment of his gardening tools with him and tons of flowers all spread out in plastic containers along their walkway.  

But what made Lily regret her life was the fact that he was shirtless. 

It wasn’t a secret that James was the most attractive out of the bunch at his house, though Sirius did give him a run for his money. With his curly hair, infectious smile, and his ability to make everyone laugh. You could look over his lanky limbs and knobby knees. Marlene, after she had come to visit one weekend, had even made Lily admit that if it wasn’t for the whole “dibs” business, she would have probably fancied him. 

It was true, but it was rude of Marlene to point out. 

He wasn’t buff or had any defined abs by any stretch, but Lily thought he was still well sculpted. His arms looked nice too, as she watched him unspool the garden hose. 

She tore her eyes away and tried to focus on her honeysuckle.

Lily stole a few more glances but overall was dedicated to her honeysuckle plant. 

Just as she patted the last of her dirt down around the roots, she suddenly felt the blast of cold water rush down her head. 

She let out a yelp and quickly raised to her feet as the blast continued to drown her newly planted honeysuckles. In the field of her vision, she saw James scrambling with the other end, trying to pull it towards him and out of where Lily was in the line of fire. 

It sprayed her one more time before James finally got it to stop. He ran over, an apologetic look in his eyes. 

“Lily, I’m so sorry. I forgot the handle is stuck on the nozzle and I didn’t know you were over there,” he said.

Lily sighed deeply as she pulled her t-shirt that was sticking to her skin away from her body, the fabric heavy. 

“It’s fine,” Lily said in a defeated tone. “Why was your hose over here anyway?” 

“I was making sure there were no tangles before I watered the hedges,” James said. 

Lily barely registered his words and she pulled her shirt off, not wanting to deal with the heaviness on her while she tried to garden. She threw her wet shirt on the ground next to her, leaving her only in her black sports bra. She looked up, running both hands through her shoulder-length hair to stop it from sticking to her face. 

James was rooted to his spot on the other side of the fence. His gaze locked onto her face. It was only then that Lily realized she had just casually thrown her shirt off in front of him.

“It was an accident,” she said. “You didn’t point the hose at me with intention, unlike the dibs. At least you watered my honeysuckles for me.”

James let out a laugh that could be mistaken for a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m still sorry. For this and the dibs incident.”

She laughed. “I think you’re going to have to apologize for that as long as we’re neighbors.”

He smiled, amused, and nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m never living that down. Doesn’t matter that it wasn’t actually what I was doing.”

Lily tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What were you actually doing?”

“The truth is only slightly less good,” he admitted, his smile falling a bit. “I—Well, no we—No, I. I noticed you when you were moving in and I did make a comment—” Lily’s eyebrows raised. “—A respectful comment!”

“What’s a respectful comment?” she interrupted. 

“I said ‘I think our new neighbor is beautiful’,” James said, a hand coming to the back of his neck. “That’s respectful, right?”

Lily’s heart decided to skip a beat and she felt a blush start to rise on her cheeks. She played it off with an eye roll. 

“Anyway, we happened to be leaving at the same time and Sirius turned to me and told me to make a move ‘before someone else did’, were his exact words…” James said, making a face. “And then I said ‘What do you want me to do? Point at her and call ‘Dibs’?’”

Lily started laughing. “So all I heard was ‘dibs’.”

“Yeah… I probably shouldn’t have yelled it for emphasis,” he said. 

She shook her head. Her opinion of him changed slightly, but not enough to be okay with the way her heart was racing as she looked at his shirtless form again.

~~~

The summer seemed to breeze past. Lily spent almost every moment of her free time working outside after she had formed her plan for her entry to the lawn competition. 

There were a lot of times where James was outside too and they would talk sometimes. Most ribbing each other like petty housewives about the state of their various lawns. It brought a smile to her face more than she would like to admit. 

They had some nice normal discussion too. Lily had walked to the fence, holding the library’s copy of The Southern England Guide to Native Plants and Shrubs by Euphemia Potter. She wanted to ask James a question about one of the ivy species that was mentioned. 

He had gotten that same soft smile on his face when he saw the book and Lily had to ask again. 

“Did you know the author?” she asked, looking into his hazel eyes. 

He nodded. “My mum. She was a botanist. She came to Godric’s Hollow to observe how the competition was helping with local pollinating numbers. Met my dad, that year’s winner, and ended up staying.”

“That is so sweet!” Lily said, smiling a little before it fell. “Are your parents still around?”

He shook his head. “Dad passed away during my first year of uni. Mum passed away last November.”

“My dad passed away in sixth year,” she said. “It gets better, but it still hurts.”

They continued on, both talking a little more but still refusing to disclose what they were doing for the competition, even though Lily’s was a little more obvious with every passing day. James seemed to just be doing normal landscaping, besides his overgrown hedges. 

Lily began to notice a lot of things about James. Besides his tendency to speak without thinking, his heart is always in the right place. It caught Lily off-guard most times. 

Something shifted in her over the weeks as they worked on the lawns. 

It was two days before the competition when Lily got home to see James outside, hedge clippers by his feet as he examined his four very tall and overgrown bushes. 

“I hope you’re not planning to win with those,” Lily called. 

James smirked over to Lily. “Just wait until I give them a trim.”

“Nicely trimmed hedges aren’t going to beat my lawn.”

James looked at the monstrosity of Lily’s yard. There were lines of primrose flowers snaking through her front lawn and turning to the back. 

Lily had spent back-breaking hours and an embarrassing amount of money to make a maze of her yard. It wasn’t like a true maze, you could see every aisle because the primroses didn’t get very tall, but it was the end that really made it worth it. 

Lily had converted her small back patio to a fairy garden. She used hanging planters, climbing ivy, and lights to really make it special.

James hadn’t seen it yet. She was going to show him once she had won the competition. 

It wasn’t until the morning of the judging that Lily saw that she actually had competition. 

Standing proud at the edge of his lawn were four perfectly cut hedges in the shape of a deer, a dog, a wolf, and a large rat. 

Lily stood in awe by her window as James was taking small scissors and cutting more details and cleaning up lines. 

She opened up her front door and walked to her fence. James turned and met her with a smirk. 

“How did you do that?” she asked. 

“Good morning to you, too,” he said. “I watched a million Youtube videos.”

Lily brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she inspected the hedges behind me. “What’s the inspiration?”

“Have you heard Sirius call me Prongs?” James asked. 

Lily had heard their stupid nicknames in passing. She thought Peter was the worst but all of them were stupid. 

“Your stupid nicknames, yeah.”

“So I’m Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, Remus is Moony, and Peter is Wormtail,” he said. Then made a sweeping gesture back to the hedges. 

She blinked in confusion as she looked back at the hedges. 

“I’m a little lost,” she admitted. 

James sighed. “So, I’m Prongs because Peter once told me the way my hair stands up looks like antlers. Sirius is Padfoot because he is the king of sneaking around. Remus is Moony because he exclusively wore those weird shirts that have wolves howling at the moon when we were 12.”

Lily let out a loud laugh, picturing a small Remus in those kinds of shirts.

“Peter?” she asked in-between laughs.  

“We were sworn to secrecy for that story,” he said. “He would actually murder me if I said it.”

Lily laughed and James joined in. 

The judging wasn’t until the afternoon, so Lily did some last-minute weeding and watering. She made sure the lights in the secret fairy garden still worked and made sure there were no dead leaves insight. 

James was standing on his lawn, talking to two of the most oddly dressed people Lily had ever seen. 

The woman was dressed in what Lily could only think of as a robe. It was a bright blue, with belled sleeves. The man was in similar clothes, but a blinding yellow with a long white beard. They both had hats that looked like top hats, only decorated with flowers. They also had clipboards in hand. 

Yet another town oddity that Lily would just have to brush off. 

James caught sight of Lily and waved her over. 

“This is another competitor. She just moved here about three months ago,” James told them as she neared. 

“Hello, I’m Lily,” she said upon arrival. 

“I’m Albus Dumbledore,” the man with a smile and twinkle in his eye. 

“I’m Minerva,” the woman said. 

Lily shook both of their hands. 

“We’ve been judging this competition for, what? Forty years, now Minerva?” Albus said as Lily raised her eyebrows, impressed. 

The woman pinched her lips and nodded. “Twice as long as these two have been alive.”

Lily, James, and Albus laughed. “Pleasantries aside, let’s get to judging.”

James and Lily stayed behind as they went and started looking at James’s hedges, inspecting it with great detail. 

“Still using those silly nicknames?” Minerva called, as she began writing down on her clipboard. 

“Of course,” James answered. “I would have put a mouse for you, Minnie, but we ran out of room.”

Lily nudged him as Minnie shot him a glare. “Unwise to insult the judges, James Fleamont.”

James frowned and Lily laughed. “Fleamont?” Lily asked. 

“That was my father’s name,” James replied. “And I got stuck with it as a middle name.” 

“I take it you know Minerva pretty well if she’s using your middle name?” Lily questioned. 

“Yeah, she was one of my mum’s best friends,” James sighed. “And before you think that means I have some kind of advantage, don’t. She’s going to judge mine ten times harder.”

It took about ten minutes before Minerva started snapping pictures and Albus stopped writing on his clipboard. 

“I think we’re ready to move on,” Albus said smiling. 

They came around the gate and Lily looked at them to the entrance of her lawn maze. James hopped the fence to join them and Lily laughed as she heard Minerva call him a showoff under her breath. 

“This is a maze made entirely out of primroses,” Lily said before stepping away from the entrance. “See if you can get to the end.”

“Normally, it’s customary not to be able to see all the different paths,” Minerva pointed out, looking across the tops of all the lines of flowers she had made. 

“Ah, but most can still get lost with directions in front of them,” Albus said, wisely. “Let’s see if we can win, Minerva.” 

They started off, Albus in the lead, who turned left towards the dead end. Minerva tapped him and made him go in the right direction, following her lead. 

Lily stayed by the entrance with James. He turned his back after a few seconds. 

“I want to do it by myself later,” he said. 

It took them about ten minutes before Lily saw them take the path that led them back to the secret fairy garden. She smirked at James when she heard Minerva’s surprised gasp and Albus’s appreciative chuckle. 

It took another ten minutes to take notes and pictures of it before they were saying their goodbyes. 

They were down the lane before James turned to Lily. 

“I’m doing the maze now,” he said, his eyes shining with amusement.  

Lily wandered behind him, laughing as he took the wrong turn that led him to exit that made him start all over. 

But eventually, he got it. And suddenly it was just her and James on her back patio, surrounded by ivy and twinkling lights. She even found a used metal patio furniture set that she placed.  It smelled good too, from the extra honeysuckle she placed back there. 

“Pretty nice, Evans,” James said, looking around. “And really good for your first year.”

Lily’s stomach swooped with praise. “Thank you,” she replied. “Your hedges are pretty nice too.”

It was shady in her garden area, so she invited James to sit until they announced the winner.

James told her the story about how he ruined his family’s competition entry by squishing a whole patch of Lily of the Valley’s because he thought they would be comfortable. Lily told him that her sister’s name was Petunia and that her mother was Violet. 

The hours flew by as they sat there and talked. Around six is when a moment of bravery came to Lily. 

“Want to go get dinner?” she asked him. 

A bright smile appeared on James’s face. “Like, just the two of us?”

“Yeah, just the two of us.”

“I’d love that,” James said, a hand coming up and raking through his hair. 

They stood up and were about to leave when James’s phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked down before gasping. 

“It’s Minnie!” he exclaimed. 

“With the results?” Lily asked, taking a step forward and invading James’s space. 

He didn’t seem to mind. “Yep… it looks like… Oh! I'm the runner up!”

“Who won?” she asked, frowning. 

James unlocked his phone and pocketed it. He looked at Lily with a soft smile. “Lily’s Maze and Enchanted Garden.”

“Really?” she asked, stepping closer. James nodded and their eyes locked. 

In the heat of the moment, Lily stood on tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

Lily could have sworn that the world had slowed its rotation for a minute as pulled away and their eyes met again. It definitely stopped when James cupped her jaw and pulled her in for a real kiss. 

They both were smiling when James pulled away. She didn’t know how long they stared at each, smiling like loons until she found her voice again. 

“So, uh… Dinner?” she asked. James let out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah, dinner.”

They just entered the maze again when Lily stopped and turned around. She got close to him again and he smiled, thinking she was going to kiss him again. 

Instead, she put a finger to his chest. 

“Dibs.”

[prose-for-hire]

All I want for Christmas is you

[This is a (late) part of my 12 Days of Chirstmas fics]

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

Request: Hi! A spike request angst for the holiday collection. Where spike and the reader get into a massive fight and he says some really hurtful things. So its really awkward leading into Christmas and the reader considers leaving him. But then spike gives the reader a present on Christmas like a sorry present that changes her mind :)

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Spike and reader fight and say mean things. Swearing. Very light sex references.

A/N: I use the ambiguous phrase ‘jewellery’ rather than explaining what the object is because it’s a reader insert and some people like certain items and some people don’t like any jewellery (blame Buffy and Dawn sorry)

You and Spike loved each other, you knew this. But you and Spike also argued. All the time. You had broken up and got back together more times than you could count. It was a ‘can’t live with him, can’t live without him’ situation. And you were just going in circles.

This particular time, finds you and Spike finishing decorating the crypt. It had been fun, by all accounts. You had even got a tree. He had managed to distract you a lot, making an hour’s task lasting the entire day.

When you were loved up, it was bliss. It was fierce passion. Often languid and sensual. Even giddy and fun at times.

He hugged you from behind, closing his eyes as he inhaled, kissing the back of your head. His hands started to wander from your hips and you closed your eyes in delight. Pressed against him felt so right.

“Did you hear that?” You said, your eyes snapping open. It was bells. Little, twinkling Christmas bells. It was eerie, not cheery. You hadn’t bought any bells.

Spike groaned in frustration and looked around as if you had gone mad. You were always doing this. Driving him wild. Teasing him so.

“What in the buggering hell are you goin’ on about?”

“There’s something…” You said cryptically as you looked around, which irritated him to no end.

“It’s nothing, just- come here”

“Spike! Why don’t you listen to me?” You pouted slightly, hoping it was entice him to take you seriously, check if there was a threat. But it did the opposite.

“Oh, right, and what’s your plan then? Why don’t we scream and run away. That’s about the form of your fighting skills anyhow ain’t it?”

“Just shut up – it’s Christmas” You snapped, looking at him as if he needed to drop it. But this just irritated him, as if you were chastising him. Like he was someone you could control. Emasculate.

“Poor little y/n, making things up for a scrap of attention again” He stuck his lower lip out and tilted his head to the side, in a way that nobody would describe anything other than patronisingly, “You don’t know who you are, not without me” He added the end after a pause.

“You’re the one that followed me around for months on end before I agreed to date you!” You bit back. This is where everything tended to go south. Fast.

“Yeah? Well we’re only together after last time ‘cause I took pity on you and took you back – saw how I left you wantin’ thought we might as well. You’re attractive at least” He leaned in and took your chin, moving you to face him as he insulted you. You held back tears. He was supposed to love you, why was he always so mean?

“Fuck you, Spike!” You shouted, grabbing his wrist and moving him from touching you before adding, “You’re such a self-assured pig!”

“Yeah, you love it” He purred.

“I hate you”

“No, you don’t” He stated. Before dragging his voice out almost sing-song like but in a humourless way, “You want me. You need me” He bit his lip, moving closer and closer, making you shiver. He was trying to charm you into submission. Again.

Well, it wouldn’t work… not this time anyway.

“You’re the one that wouldn’t leave Buffy’s doorstep until I came back with you! You’re obsessive! You’re a slave to love, no - to pain, Spike!” You stated, moving away from where he had started to back you against the wall.

“Slave to you” He offered, that look in his eye. Offering to forget about it, although he had been the one that had been cruel. His look offering making up. In bed, wherever you wanted. He would even apologise if it meant you wouldn’t leave him again. But you were still mad, still angry at the way he spoke to you.

His look almost made you back down, he was hard to resist. You were addicted to each other. Even when you were fighting it could switch to sex so easily. To hot passion.

But not today.

“No. You’re not. You don’t want me. You want drama, a fight. I’m sick of it! Forget it” You shouted, continuing, “I mean it this time, Spike! We’re done!”

“Love, you don’t mean that – we’re-”

“Finished!” You ended his sentence for him, “Get out!”

“No- I’m the one with my name above the door, you don’t bloody pay the rent” He said, backing away from you as you had that look in your eye. You could be downright vindictive.

“Neither do you - it’s a crypt, you don’t pay shit!”

“You wouldn’t throw your fella out just before Christmas, would you, love?” He tried as you had walked him out of the front door, throwing his leather duster at him. He caught it in a ball and clutched it to his chest.

He sighed exaggeratedly. He really didn’t want to have to rough it somewhere, exposing himself to possible sunlight. He wanted you again. He cursed himself. Wished he had just kept his mouth shut.

But you weren’t so innocent. If he hadn’t created an argument, you would have done. It had been in the air. Building up over weeks.

“Bloody women!” He screamed at the door you had unceremoniously slammed in his face. He heard you slide the bolt across the door and he kicked it for good measure, howling in pain and hobbling away.

To add insult to injury, as he stalked through the streets trying to find a suitable crypt it had started to snow. The first bloody snow here in centuries and he had been caught up in it. It couldn’t get any worse.

Shit. Why did he have to think that? He rounded the corner and almost ran straight into the Slayer. He had been dragging his feet, kicking a stone until he looked up and saw her.

“There a reason you’re terrorising the sidewalk, Spike?”

“None of your business”

“Y/n’s kicked you out again hasn’t she?” Buffy’s face lit up as his face gave away she had guessed correctly.

She enjoyed seeing him like this. She was your best friend and she thought (no, knew) that you were too good for him. She told you all the time. But you were both too swept up in the animal attraction. In the possessive, heated entanglement you couldn’t escape if you wanted to.

“Betty the do-good…-er” Spike floundered. It wasn’t his best line. He was ridiculously sad. Mourning the loss of his relationship with you again. He craved you, he wept for you. There was a deep aching in his chest the further he walked from the crypt. The further he walked from you.

“That was tragic. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you were bad” Buffy said, not able to hide the smile at her own joke.

“Yeah, well, just lost the love of my un-life here. Give a bloke a break” He snapped, sniffing and trying to wipe his eye on his sleeve subtly. Buffy rolled her eyes but for some reason, before she went over to the crypt to collect you and the overnight bag you had packed and re-packed more than you can count, she turned back to him.

“You know she feels the same. Maybe it’s time to let go, Spike. Or buy jewellery. I hear girls like jewellery” Buffy shrugged.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know” He muttered, luckily she didn’t hear it or she would have spun back and staked him on site. She only hadn’t before the previous interaction because she knew you would never forgive her.

Your relationship was infuriating. And not just to you and Spike. It had a ripple effect, it was a part of your friends lives too. One day you would be shouting and screaming, the next passionately making love on the nearest surface. It was exciting and painful, like whiplash from a rollercoaster. The rollercoaster that was y/n and Spike.

It had been a few days now. You were staying at Buffy’s. She was a good friend to you. No matter how many times you and Spike yo-yo’d between love and hate she was there for you. With as little judgement as she could.

She comforted you while you cried, heartbroken despite Buffy being sure you would manage to find it in your heart to forgive him yet again. You clutched the mug of hot chocolate she had made, complete with marshmallows. She had learnt well from Joyce.

Dawn had slipped you some of her freshly baked sugar-cookies that she had made specially to cheer you up. She had decorated them with little Christmas characters which made you smile at her.

The girl adored your relationship with Spike, whether rightly or wrongly. She looked up to you, wanting to emulate a passionate relationship like that herself when she was older. It was like you were in a romance novel or something.

What you and Buffy didn’t know that since you had moved in, Dawn was Spike’s spy. She was, for the price of $5 and scary stories from his past, she told him all about what you said and how you were feeling. He now knew you were upset, missing him. Wallowing the same as he was. Well, good. But now, he had to make it up to you. He made Dawn help him brainstorm into the night.

She wanted to do it, she was sure it was for a good cause. In the name of true love, obviously.

Spike walked her back to Buffy’s where the Slayer was pacing and you were watching out for her to come home. You were going to give her the heads up that Buffy wasn’t pleased that she had gone awol. The snow had fallen thick now, anything could have happened and Buffy was scared Dawn was hurt.

You saw her then, with him. Your heart rose and your eyes glistened. You watched him trudge beside her, the white glow of the snow lighting up his face, making his cheekbones more prominent. He took a final drag of his cigarette before throwing it away, his eyes finally meeting yours through the window.

You walked to the door and unlocked it, whispering to Dawn that Buffy was gunning for her before turning back to Spike.

“Love…” He started. You just shook your head, you were still hurt.

“Goodbye, Spike” You said pointedly, closing the door on him once more. This time you turned with your back against the door, sliding down it as you started to cry. Dawn worried that it would take more than the Christmas gift they had been planning to win you back as Buffy scooped you up. She suggested that there was plenty of Christmas films you could watch, to take your mind off things. You nodded, leaning against her shoulder debating yourself whether to run after him or not. Buffy decided against any heavy romance-based films as you continued to sniff.

Eventually, Christmas Day came and it was the first that you spent without him in years. You usually made up before. You spent the entire day with a fake smile plastered on your face, not just at the slightly misjudged present from Anya (it was a vibrator, because you were on your own. You opened it in front of Dawn not realising and Buffy had to cover her eyes).

You thought about him the entire day. You ached, pined. You almost braved the thick snow, that you had almost been snowed in by, more than once before one of your friends distracted you with something.

As night fell, you gave up hoping. That was, until, there was a sharp knock at the door. His knock, you knew it. You had slammed the door in his face too many times not to know that knock. You sprinted over there, swinging the door open.

“Spike” You breathed, smiling. You had felt his absence so painfully.

“I know, I’m not stopping, wouldn’t wanna interrupt the touch-feely bollocks I’m sure is in full swing about now” He said and it made you smile, You loved the way he spoke. His accent. The way he phrased everything as if he had crafted it just for your ears.

He handed you a surprisingly well-wrapped gift as you smiled down at it, “It’s- for me? But I didn’t have time to get-”

“You know the only gift you could give me worth anything would be you” He admitted, which was how you felt for him. You didn’t need this, but you knew this was his way of apologising.

You opened the present and gasped, smiling wider. It was jewellery, just the kind you adored with a little gem that sparkled in the moonlight. You looked over at him, how could you ever have doubted him? He did his best by you, he always did. You knew who he was when you had started dating, just as he had known who you were.

“Spike, I’m sorry for how-” You started, but he shook his head, taking your hand.

“This- the way we- it’s not right, I know it” he admitted that the way things were, the bad seemed to take over the good. He lived in hope, though. He was convinced that this time it would be all love, “But I want you, I burn for you – it’s why the gem’s that colour, see? You’re the only one for me, the only one I could ever love through it all” He said it so honestly. So sincerely.

You invited him in after you whispered your own affections, much to everyone else’s chagrin. You showed them the gift and Dawn cheered, telling you she helped. You grinned at her and Spike had to convince Buffy not to stake him again. You both stayed in the living room for a moment, listening to the rest of them talking and just gazing into each other’s eyes.

Then you were kissing. His lips on yours hotly, you had missed this so bad. His lips were made for yours. He drank you in, all of you. Your flaws and your perfections.

He loved your everything. The good and the bad. And you matched his message. He felt it, deepening the kiss. Forgetting where you were for a moment. Until he heard your friends mutter insults at him.

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. All the while, you had barely stopped for breath. You never wanted to part from him again. You were pressed close to him, willing him even closer.

His lips caught any exposed skin on your neck, your jaw as he carried you without word upstairs. You looped one arm around his neck, the other against his jaw so you could catch his lips again with heightened desire.

The others just watched you leave, trying to ignore the way you were all-but grinding against Spike in anticipation. None of them were surprised by the turn of events but they weren’t exactly pleased either.

Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles all shared a look as you and Spike thudded against the walls as you walked along the corridors upstairs trying to find a room to slip into.

They all wondered how long it would last this time as you gave yourselves a very merry Christmas.

[starsofatlantis]

Rivals

@sophitz-week day 1: academic rivals

Notes: this was a lot of fun to write and I enjoyed being able to play around with Sophie and Fitz’s dynamic! it ended up a lot longer than I expected but I’m pretty proud of it! hope you enjoy!

Relationships: platonic sophitz, pre-romantic sophitz, platonic sophex, platonic marella x sophie, platonic marella x dex, platonic, keefe x fitz

Word Count: 1986

Warnings: none!

_________________

"I just don't understand the issue," Dex said for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning.

Sophie scoffed. "The issue Dex, is that I am being forced to work with my sworn enemy."

"Sworn enemy's a little much," Dex replied, holding onto his backpack as he gave Sophie an amused look.

"Sworn enemy is perfect!" Marella exclaimed from Sophie's left. "It'll make it even more romantic when they finally confess their undying love to each other!"

Sophie deadpanned. "I can't tell if you're teasing me or just really really blind. There is no way I will ever fall in love with Fitz Vacker."

Dex laughed as Marella looked unconvinced.

"Please Soph, you both have been obsessed with each other since you first came to school in the sixth grade and beat him in the middle school spelling bee. You're like a modern day Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe."

Sophie gasped and held a hand to her heart. "Don't you dare insult my favorite fictional man by relating him to Fitz Vacker of all people."

"Favorite fictional man?" Dex questioned, quirking an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to Fred Weasley?"

Sophie glared at him. "So what if I simp for multiple fictional men? Who are you to judge Mr. 'I would lay down my life for Natasha Romanoff'?”

Dex chuckled. "Touché."

Marella grinned. "Ignoring the part where I said you two were obsessed with each other, huh?"

Sophie sniffed. "I'm not ignoring it. I'm choosing not to reply to something so ridiculous."

"Mhm."

"You're also ignoring the fact you had a crush on him when you first met," Dex pointed out.

"Dexter, my man! Always backing me up!" Marella exclaimed, and the two high-fived.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "A lack in judgment on sixth grade Sophie's part, I promise it will never happen again."

Dex snorted. "Whatever you say."

Marella gasped excitedly.

"Sophie's supposed sworn enemy 11 o'clock," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Sophie's head shot towards the boy in question as Dex just shook his head.

Fitz Vacker was tall and had broad shoulders from all the training he needed for football. His hair was dark and never seemed to fall out of place. He was kind and tutored the younger kids when he had free time. He volunteered with student council (his sister was the president) and as popular as he was, he didn't act like it.

Sophie hated his guts.

He gave her a small smile.

Subdued, she thought. She knew how bright his smile really was and she could only think he was holding himself back, which was odd. Fitz Vacker was anything but unconfident.

She stared back as he passed and out of the corner of her eye she saw his blond friend slap him on the back while chuckling.

"I love a good rivals to lovers romance," Marella gushed as they made their way into biology.

_________________

"You've got it bad, man," Keefe laughed.

"Shut up," Fitz grumbled, shrugging off Keefe's hand.

Keefe held his hands up. "Sorry, but it's way too obvious to not make fun of."

"Thanks Keefe, so grateful for your support," Fitz said, still thinking about the minor interaction he'd had with the girl he'd been crushing on for years.

"I am supportive bro," Keefe defended, "But there's only so much support I can give before the overwhelming need to make fun of you becomes too much."

"I can't stand you," Fitz said turning into his class.

"Aww how sweet," Keefe called as he walked down the hall to who knows where. "Too bad Sophie Foster thinks the same thing about you."

__________________

"Seriously, Marella, drop it. The only reason I'm going over to his house is to finish this stupid project," Sophie complained, pulling her keys out of the ignition.

She stared at the mansion the Vacker's called home, trying to work up to courage to walk to the front door.

"Ok, ok fine, just answer one thing," Marella said through Sophie's phone.

Sophie rubbed her temples as she got out of her car, already knowing this wasn't going to end well.

She grabbed the tray of mallowmelt out of the backseat, holding her cellphone between her shoulder and her head. "What is it?"

"Admit you think Fitz Vacker is the hottest man to walk the planet."

Sophie choked.

"Please, Sophie, be honest with me. I know you can't stand him for whatever reason, but you aren't blind and he's like, the blueprint of your type."

Sophie huffed as she walked up the grand walkway. She thought about his sparkling eyes and how they had always radiated comfort and safety to her, even when they were in middle school.

"I guess he's alright," she grumbled.

“AHA!” Marella cheered, and Sophie could practically hear her throwing a fist in the air. "I'll take it!"

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I've gotta go, talk to you later."

"Ok! Have fun, love ya," Marella said and made a kissy sound before hanging up the phone.

Sophie shook her head exasperatedly, stuffing her phone in her back pocket as she reached the double front doors.

She raised her hand to knock but before she could, the door opened, revealing a slightly flustered Fitz Vacker.

"H-hey," he stuttered.

"Hi," Sophie said plainly before holding out the tray of sweets. "This is mallowmelt from Edaline."

"Oh thanks!" he said excitedly. "My dad will really appreciate this!"

He laughed slightly and Sophie cracked a smile. Fitz's father had been the one to find Sophie her adoptive family when her own family had passed away in a car accident. Her adoptive father and Alden worked together so he'd asked him and his wife to take Sophie in, and they adopted her a few months later.

The two stood awkwardly in the doorway before Fitz started suddenly.

"I- y-you can come in," he said, moving out of the way to let her in.

"Thanks," Sophie replied, clutching her school bag as she walked into the gorgeous house.

Fitz mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'stupid', but Sophie didn't comment on it.

"My room's upstairs and to the left, I'm just gonna go put this in the fridge," Fitz said, gesturing to the tray.

Sophie nodded. "No problem."

She walked up the marble staircase, marveling and somewhat grumbling at the grandeur of Fitz's house.

To say Fitz's room wasn't what she was expecting and was also exactly what she was expecting was an understatement.

He obviously liked the color blue, as his bedspread was navy blue and so was the rug. The walls were white and most of his things were made out of dark wood. Tall bookshelves lined the walls and Sophie found herself jealous of his collection. A glass case on the wall held all his sports trophies, but mostly held photos of his teammates or friends winning something, and Sophie almost laughed at the way they were proudly displayed. It was honestly kinda cute how adorably proud of his friends he was that he hung up photos of their accomplishments in his room. He was like a mother hen.

"Ok so we have to pick a book we're required to read by the school district and analyze whether we think it's an educational read and why we think the book is required. I know you haven't read all of the same books as me cause we're in different grades so I thought we could make a list of all the ones we have read and go from there," Fitz said as he walked into his room.

Sophie was a little taken aback by the sudden proposition but nodded anyway. "Sounds good."

She was a little mad he was right about the books though. Sophie was only a sophomore while Fitz was a senior, so he'd been through more english classes than she had.

She went to pull out a sheet of paper when something stopped her.

"I-is that your second place ribbon from the spelling bee?" she asked and he looked up from his own paper.

Fitz scratched the back of his neck, following Sophie's line of sight in the direction of a blue ribbon hanging from his glass case with the worded '2ND PLACE' written distinctly on the front.

"Uh—," he chuckled nervously, "Y-yeah it is."

Sophie turned to him, confusion etched across her face. "Why would you keep that?"

She for one, would never keep anything that reminded her she had lost to someone.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Guess it just reminds me of something."

"Of what?"

Briefly, it occurred to her this was the longest conversation she'd had with him since he beat her in the relay race at the end of sixth grade.

"Um, I- uh, I'm not sure."

Sophie looked unconvinced and Fitz blushed.

Sophie gave him another strange look before turning back to her bag.

"Why do we not talk anymore?" Fitz blurted out, and immediately had to resist the urge to slap his hand over his mouth and launch himself out the nearest window.

"What?" Sophie asked slowly, turning to fully face him.

Good going, Fitz, he thought. Now she's going to hate you even more and will probably end up starting a petition to send you to Timbuktu so that she never has to see you again.

"Um," he said smartly.

She raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

"Why don't we talk anymore? We used to be friends when we were in middle school."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know. We're rivals, and last I checked you aren't supposed to fraternize with your competition."

"Huh?" Fitz said, his turn to be confused. "Since when were we rivals?"

Sophie me jaw dropped. "Seriously? We've always been rivals."

"Uh no we haven't?"

Sophie looked incredulous and Fitz had the feeling he said something wrong. "Yes we have! You were the one who started it in the first place!"

"What?" Fitz exclaimed. "When did I do that?"

"In middle school? When you were always competing with me?"

"I- I wasn't doing that cause I thought of you as a rival! I was doing that cause I thought of you as my friend!"

Sophie's confusion and slight anger calmed down for a second. "What?"

"Yeah! I never had someone who could match me at everything I did and then some, so I thought it was fun to push myself to beat you. You made everything a challenge cause you were— are! —so good at everything!"

"Trust me, if I knew you'd stop talking to me for four years just cause I beat you in a lame race, I would have lost every single competition we ever competed in against each other."

They stared at each other as a blush formed on both of their faces. Sophie being confused on everything Fitz Vacker and feeling bashful over all he'd just said, and Fitz frustrated at himself for letting Sophie get that ridiculous idea that he didn't want to be friends with her in her head and feeling bashful over all he'd just said.

Sophie took in a quiet breath. "I- I just thought you wanted to beat me because you didn't like me."

"No!" Fitz exclaimed frantically, waving his hands, as if trying to ward her words away from the air around him. "Not at all!"

Sophie laughed slightly, and Fitz reveled in the sound of it.

"I want us to be," he stumbled, "…f-friends. I've always wanted that."

Sophie looked into his eyes, saw the pure sincerity there, and felt herself melt a little bit.

"I think I'd like that too," she said quietly. "Friends."

Fitz smiled brightly and it felt like the morning sun after a long night.

She paused.

"I'm still gonna try to beat you in everything we do though."

Fitz laughed loudly and it echoed around the room.

Sophie never thought she'd be glad he didn't subdue his smile.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Resentment)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him.  A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad),  (Anger), (Grief) 

This is the direct sequel to (Implosion)

......

“Not many people get hit with a concussive blast of this strength and walk away will so few injuries.” Is what the paramedic that looks Katsuki over says, hand glowing a faint blue as he uses some sort of diagnostic quirk.

“It looks like you have a few cuts, bruising, strained muscles and sprained wrist from what I can see. I’d recommend getting a proper examination at the hospital but there’s nothing life-threatening here.” The medic continues.

The emergency doctor at the hospital confirms the diagnosis and shakes his head in disapproval, adding, “…bruising on your ribs and a fractured finger. No concussion, thankfully, but you’ll have a nasty bump on the back of your head. If your quirk didn’t make you naturally resistant to these sorts of shock-based blasts, you would be dead..”

…

After that, everyone is practically falling over each other to lecture him on how irresponsible and reckless he is.

..

His mum arrives and there is a lot of shouting which just pisses him off.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT WHEN I GET WOKEN UP AT ONE IN THE MORNING BY POLICE TELLING ME THAT MY IDIOT SON, WHO SHOULD BE ASLEEP, IS IN HOSPITAL!!”

 “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!

Then there is the quiet disappointment he gets from his father when his mum is done yelling which only fuels his resentment.  

“I don’t understand why you did it son. Did you want to get into that fight? Or was it a mistake? Please. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Eventually, he finally snaps, “I fucking felt like it! That’s why I did it! And you know what, I’d do it again.”

It wasn’t like he could or even wanted to explain that he’d jumped out his window to wander the streets at midnight because he had had a bad dream and his All Might poster had looked at him funny. That the rage and anger were preferable to that sinking empty feeling that had turned his every waking moment into a pointless repeat of everyday routines and useless interactions.  That every time he let himself pause and reflect, Deku’s stupid smiling face was mocking him from the afterlife.

Next, he spends an hour with Senior Officer Watanabe recounting every possible detail from his stroll through the streets to his climactic fight with Lanky, Tiny and Grease-Hair.

“Well, you definitely don’t do things in half measures kid. So far we have private and public property damage, unlicensed quirk usage, quirk usage with the intent to harm, vigilantly activity, assault...”

“Assault! Why the hell is that on the list. Those bastards started it.”

“You can’t go around beating people up no matter how good your intentions are!”

“So, you wanted me to just watch!”

“Yes!” A long breath, “I know it can be hard but you need to wait for the pros. You got lucky this time but what if things had been different? You had misread the situation. What if you had been badly injured? What if you had accidentally injured the victim or killed someone? There is a reason we make people get a license for Hero work. Seison Masuyama is a B-rank villain.”

“B rank? He wasn’t that strong.”

 “His quirk, Kinetic-Force, collects kinetic energy and releases it in one overpowered attack. It’s deadly to most people. You were lucky he had already used it once that day and that you were resilient enough to withstand it."

After multiple repeats of the ‘you’re lucky you’re not dead,’ with a side order of ‘it’s a good thing you’re still a minor because you could go to jail for this,’ he gets to go home.

It is three in the morning by the time he arrives back at the apartment, two exhausted parents in tow, having been issued an ‘official warning,’ an order to complete 100 hours of community service and instructions to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. He has never felt angrier or more resentful.

A days later and he is back at school, wasting his time watching clocks and avoiding classmates. 

Nothing had changed.

…

…

…

The car screeches to a stop at the school gates, throwing Katsuki forward in his seat. His mum turns to fix him with a stern glare, eyes narrow.

“If you’re not waiting right here by the gate when I come to pick you up or so help me I’ll be escorting you to and from your classroom from the rest of your school life,” she threatens.

“Lay off you old bat,” Katsuki snaps as was becoming routine since his mum had started driving him the short distance to school, “I got it the first million times.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”  A finger is pointed at his nose, waving in an almost menacing fashion. “Remember. Here. School Gates. 4:00pm. Don’t you dare think about ditching again.”

 Katsuki sneers and kicks open the car door, turning to slams it shut with as much force as possible in retaliation. He stalks through the gates, shouldering his way through a group of loitering students.  They all scatter when they recognise him. In some ways, he prefers dealing with the anger and yelling of his mum than his father’s quiet disappointment. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying as hell.

A spike of pain runs through his hand from where he must have used a little too much force on the door. Maybe he should take his father up on those kickboxing classes. Sure, he had practised punching after reading a bunch of online guides, but reading and solo practice were completely different when compared with real actual fighting.  That was assuming he was going to be getting into more real fights.  He opens and closes his bandaged fist, feeling a slight sting in his wrist and fingers. He glares. Four days on and he can still feel the echo of adrenalin.  The thrill of righteous anger had been so much more satisfying than the directionless rage he was accustomed to. It had rekindled some of that fire that drove him to be the best, to win, chasing away the sickening emptiness which had been dogging his every waking step.

He wants to feel that again…He wants to do something other than listlessly go through the same daily motions as he drifts towards his now uncertain future. 

“Hey Bakugō!” 

He keeps walking, ignoring whatever loser classmates wanted to talk to him.

“HEY!”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Katsuki twitches, a hairs breath away from spinning and firing a blast point-blank into the pest’s face. Instead, he stops and deliberately turns to glower at the pathetic piece of trash behind him. Murata Taheiji from his homeroom is standing there, one hand on his hip, flanked by two other boys he doesn’t know the names of. Two more appear to stand in front of him, blocking his way. They are all puffed up like they think they’re hot shit. Katsuki scoffs. Are these failures really trying to bully him? HIM!? 

“How about you get the fuck out of my way and go find a first year to pick on. You know, someone more on your level.”

That gets him an irritated scowl that transforms into a patronising grin, “You were always such a stuck up prick Bakago…Acting so high and mighty all the time. Not anymore, I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“Huh?” he drawls, dragging out the sound, turning so he is facing the boy, “What the fuck are you on about.”

“My dad works for Musutafu police dispatch and he told me something real interesting yesterday.” A dramatic pause, “He said that you got arrested a few nights ago.” There is a laugh that is echoed by the four surrounding him. By now the confrontation has garnered the attention of several onlookers, who are slowly drifting closer.

“All that shit about being a Hero and you got arrested. What’d you do? Steal some candy from a convenience store? We all know you don’t have money.”

Around them, the growing audience is eyeing him with varying levels of eager anticipation like they think he’ll break down and start crying because of some dumb-ass insults. Damn, if that doesn’t just piss him off. How dare these losers think him that weak.

“Don’t compare me to your loser selves,” he dismisses aggressively, making to turn and forcefully elbow his way past. He is stopped by Murata’s hand which is still on this shoulder.

“You know what I think. I think you’re all talk.”

Katsuki stills, letting the words sink and curdle in his stomach. In one short move, he turns and steps in close to Murata so they are almost nose to nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns.  The other boy tenses, looking like he wants to say something else equally stupid. If he remembers correctly Murata has some sort of muscle-enhancer, reflex quirk. One of the only worthwhile quirks in the school.

Katsuki jerks his elbow up and around in a quick jab. It smacks into the loser’s face. Crack. Guess having fast reflexes didn’t make a difference when you never saw the blow coming.

There is a cry of surprised pain and shouts of alarm from the peanut gallery. The other boy falls back, tripping over his own feet. It is ridiculously simple to lift a leg and deliver a kick to the stomach, not even a strong kick, so his failed bully thuds onto the ground, tossing up a small puff of sand. Unlike the fight in the ally, there is no rush of excitement, no spike of anger or adrenaline. No exhilaration. He is just irritated and maybe a bit disappointed. That’s what he gets for expecting anything out of the pathetic losers that went Aldera Middle School. They were more annoying than anything else.  

Murata rolls around in the dirt, wheezing, trying to draw breath. He can almost imagine Deku running up to complain about his violent tendencies or sprout some shit about Hero’s needing to protect people like Murata didn’t ask for it when he decided to try his luck bullying someone obviously stronger than him.

The reminder of Deku sours his already shitty mood.

“Ah…you broke my nose. YOU BOKE IT…ah…it hurts. Do something!” The idiot calls to his equally idiotic friends as he tries to stop blood from pouring down his face.

Katsuki gazes coolly at the boy before directing his attention at the four other ‘bullies’ standing frozen around him.

“You extras got something else to add to that?” With Murata out of the game, the rest of the pathetic group shuffles about uncertainly.

“Ah…we’re good,” The tallest one says nervously, “Sorry about that Bakugō. No hard feelings right?”

He scoffs.

One of the boys moves forward to pull Murata upright, kneeling and pulling out a tissue to help stem the flow of blood. “Crap. I…I think Murata needs to go to the nurse. This looks serious.” There are a few more apprehensive glances in his direction like the other boys think he’ll insist on continuing the ‘fight’-ha! like this has been anything near a fight- until they are all bloody messes on the ground. Kaksuki rolls his eyes. As if he has the patience to deal with any more of these losers.

“Cowards,” he mutters, shoving past. The crowd of students who had gathered to watch the failed confrontation, scramble to get out of his way. A strong breeze rushes through the school’s courtyard, drawing attention to how quiet it has suddenly gotten. Barely audible whispers follow in his wake and he can feel many sets of eyes on his back, watching.

“He always did have a bad attitude.” They murmur.

“Guess he’s a real delinquent now.”

“…did you hear what Murata said. Do you think Bakugō actually got arrested?”

“That’s got to be fake right? Murata is full of hot air.”

“No way. I believe it. You don’t have to share a class with him, I’m telling you, Bakugō’s gone nuts.”

“Kind of scary when you think about it. With a quirk like that...”

He doesn’t know why they’re all so shocked. This isn’t the first fight he has gotten into on school grounds. Okay, so maybe he’d held off doing any real harm before now, well aware that U.A. would probably check his school record. It had never mattered to him because there was no point in beating up weaklings when he was obviously superior. Except for Deku…the only person he had ever really hurt, the only person he could get away with hurting without repercussions. And now he feels like extra shit. God, what a huge farce it had all been. Kaksuki clenches his fist and growls, wondering if it isn’t too late to ditch and go find somewhere secluded to blow off steam. Anything to escape this feeling of frustration.

 He doesn’t have time to make a proper decision because news of his ‘fight’ had obviously spread to the staffroom. One of the second year homeroom teachers comes barrelling out of the school’s front entrance, eyes immediately landing on him.

“What happened!” Their eyes move past him to the bloody Murata, “Go wait in the principles office. Now.”

Well, he didn’t want to deal with his annoying classmates anyway. He stalks away, the sounds of the teacher fussing over Murata growing fainter behind him. When he arrives, the principal’s office is empty and he flings himself down into one of the comfy couches, irritated. The bell for homeroom goes off and Kaksuki remains sprawled across the couch, arm across his face to block out the light and his view of the clock slowly ticking away.  

Just as he begins to contemplate leaving, Principle Fukuhara comes strolling into the room. 

“ Bakugō,” the man lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sit up please.”

Katsuki moves his arm to peek out and glare at the man, deliberately ignoring the instruction.

“I just finished talking to Ms Yuki and the school’s nurse.  You broke Murata Taheiji’s nose. I hope you realise how serious this situation is and that there will be major consequences. Aldera Middle School does not tolerate this sort of violence on its grounds.”

Silence. That was a fucking lie. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself upright, meeting the man’s hard stare with his own. 

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself and your disgraceful behaviour..”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “The idiot was asking for it.”

Obviously, it's the wrong response going by how the skin tightens around the man’s eyes, “I see...I’m sorry you feel that way. Up until now, our school has been more than lenient. We have overlooked your shameful behaviour these last few weeks because we wanted to give you time to settle after going through such as tragic incident. However, I am afraid that this time you have gone too far. Your parents will be notified. You’ll see the school councillor. You will be staying back for after school detention. Since this is your first major incident we…”

“First?” He cuts the man off. He is sick of hearing the moron’s voice. “Hahaha and people say you don’t have a sense of humour.” He laughs an unpleasant laugh which increases in volume until he is almost shouting.

 “What sort of shit hole are you running? Three years I’ve been beating up the dumb idiots that come here and now you decide to care. Why is that huh? Is it because I’m no longer going to put this shitty place on the map and become a famous hero! HA!”

He lets his voice quieten, sneering “I’ll never be a hero so you’re shit out of luck.” Finally saying it out loud is like throwing a bucket of water over the embers of an already struggling fire. It hurts deep in his chest. The expression of shocked disbelief is almost worth it.

“Thanks for proving what a worthless profession it is,” he finishes with another hash laugh, rage simmering under his skin. When he tries to stand and leave a hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

The principal, who still looks somewhat stunned at his sudden outburst, orders, “Sit back down Bakugō! I am far from finished.”

Why do people always feel the need to grab him. He is so fucking sick of everyone pulling and tugging on him, trying to control him and hold him down. Katsuki turns slowly, that simmering rage pulsing, running down his limbs. Pop pop pop go his hands. He feels as explosive fire gathering in behind his eyes and in his shadowy stare. It is not the dramatic, adrenaline-induced anger he had felt when preparing for the ally fight. No, this is a dark burning rage, fuelled by his growing resentment.

“Touch me again,” he growls, low and intimidating, “and I’ll kill you.”

The principal snatches his hand back like he has just been burnt. A poignant silence follows in the wake of his threat.

“Suspension,” the man says, swallowing,  “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents right now.” And is it just him or does he look genuinely worried? There is even a hint of fear in his wrinkled face. Katsuki takes vindictive joy in the achievement. Finally…finally the worthless morons are seeing him, truly seeing him and not whatever Bakugō -delusion they’d all cooked up in their heads.

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[harringtonstudios]

bail. (part I)

plot: your weekend was supposed to be chill, now you’re running around early morning trying to figure out what exactly went wrong. part 2!

A/N: super long and different! i hope you like this anon! please lmk ur thoughts

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyth​ @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @hnbtx​

Getting a phone call at 3:42am when you were knocked out on a hotel bed in Portland was not how you expected your weekend to go. The worst part was when you groggily reached for your cell phone, only to see a random number pop up on your screen. Shrugging it off, you pulled your head under the thick blanket, closing your eyes. 

Two minutes later, the phone went off again and you snapped open your eyes. Grabbing your phone this time, you picked up the call, bringing it to you ear before murmuring, “Who the fuck-”

“Hey Y/N. It’s Colson,” the man said on the other side and you glared at the ceiling, immediately placing his voice. Of course, he would be calling you at almost four in the morning from some random number. 

“Why are you calling me?” you muttered, pulling your covers back over you. 

“So there’s a little situation see,” he started and you scowled, knowing that this was going to require you actually getting up. 

“Where’s Rook,” you questioned, trying to figure out if your little brother was caught up in this mess. If he wasn’t, you would let someone else handle it. You weren’t Colson’s babysitter, both of you were too fiery to be put in a room together anyways. Anytime you were together, there were always bitten-back insults, glares thrown across rooms, and dumb competitions to prove you were better than each other. 

“He’s here, he called, but you didn’t pick up. I got the phone after and you’re the only person we know here with us,” he rambled and you huffed, getting up off the bed.

“Where are you?” you asked, walking over to the bathroom, trying to see if you needed to pee before you left. 

“County jail,” Colson muttered on the other end and your eyes widened. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “Look I know, I know. Can you just bring us bail? I’ll pay you back, but we can’t stay the night here.” 

Pulling on pants, you grabbed your coat and wallet as the line suddenly started to beep. “I’m coming,” you got out before the call cut off. 

-

The empty, cold streets of Portland were not inviting. There was nobody around, the kid sitting on the main desk in the lobby, typing away on his phone. You had walked out of the hotel into total darkness, so you went back in, sitting on the couches as you called a Lyft. 

Within five minutes, the car had pulled up. Getting in the backseat, you threw a smile to the driver, praying that he wouldn’t ask why you needed to go to jail. Your prayers didn’t work, a minute into the ride, the driver glanced in the mirror before saying, “So, county jail huh? What’s that story?”

You stared at the front seat. “My brother and his stupid friends got themselves locked up for the night,” you responded, keeping it simple. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you stole a glimpse at the GPS setup on his dashboard. Just five more minutes. 

“You going to bail them out?” he pushed, smiling when you glared at him in the mirror. “Something like that,” you murmured and he got the message, turning on the radio as you stared out the window. 

The county jail came into view and you braced yourself for the mess you were going to walk into. “Thanks dude,” you blurted, before getting out of his car. 

“Hey, good luck,” he threw your way, rolling his window to wave. You smiled awkwardly before walking into the building. The lady at the front desk was filing her nails as the man behind her sat with his head down. There was a bench, two guys sitting there, slumped on top of each other. 

Grimacing, you walked up to the desk. 

“Hi, I’m here to bail out a couple of people,” you started, and the lady gave you a look, eyebrows raised as she put her nail file down. 

“Names?” she muttered, reaching down to sort through what looked like files. 

“JP Cappelletty, Colson Baker,” you spoke, faltering at the end. “Did anyone else come in with them?” you asked, biting your lip, hoping for a no. 

“Yeah, do you know his name?” she asked, slapping three files onto her desk. 

“Um Slim,” you bit out. 

“Government name?” she questioned, flipping open a chart. 

“I don’t know that,” you responded, hand nervously tapping on the desk. 

She looked up at you, glaring for a second, before shouting, “MIKE. BRING THE THREE GUYS UP FRONT.”

You flashed her a smile, reaching into your purse for your wallet. 

“I’ll need you to sign a couple of papers. It’ll be $302 per person. You want a receipt?” she stated, reaching for her machine. 

“A receipt would be great,” you responded, trying not to freak out about dropping over $900 on bail. 

“You’ll have to call up your credit card company, let them know you’re paying a large amount,” she finished, reaching for the card in your hand. 

“Yeah, okay. First thing in the morning,” you nodded, eyes clocking on the movement behind her. 

Colson was shuffling in front, head hanging. You could see Slim at the back, nose looking slightly busted. Rook was in the middle of them and although, you couldn’t really see him, you knew he was probably scuffed up. They all were in handcuffs, clanking as they moved to the front, near the gated door. 

“Lady! I said sign here,” the woman said, snapping at you. You looked down at the six different sheets. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking a pen from her. Signing off on all the documents, you pushed them back her way. 

“Mike, they’re good to go,” the woman motioned, and you heard a buzz. Walking to the gated door, you stood back as it swung open. 

Colson got uncuffed first, rubbing at his wrists. Your eyes widened at his knuckles, swollen and purple. Stepping out, he came to stand behind you, murmuring a soft, “Thanks.” 

Rook was next, and you sighed, seeing his black eye. He looked up at you, eyes watering and you quickly pulled him in for a hug. 

“You okay?” you asked, patting his back. 

“Yeah, this is so fucked,” he muttered and you let out a little laugh as he sniffed. 

“You’re lucky I won’t tell dad about this,” you responded, pushing him slightly as Slim stepped out. 

“Y/N! You’re the best,” he boomed, as he leaned down for a hug. You gave him a quick one, head turning as you smelled the alcohol wafting off of him. 

“Thanks Mike,” you said, arms shoving the three of them towards the exit. They all stumbled outside and you waited until the door of the office closed before turning to face them. 

“What the FUCK. You’re all drunk, busted up, falling on top of each other, in fucking JAIL!” you shouted, arms waving around as they stood there. 

“What’d you shitheads do?” you barked at them, eyes focusing on Colson, who was avoiding your gaze. 

“Y/N, chillll,” Slim mumbled, swaying slightly. 

“Oh fuck no,” you scoffed. 

“I’ll tell you everything. Can we just get home?” Colson quietly muttered. He spared you a glance, eyes slightly red. 

You called another Lyft, sitting down on the front steps of the station. Rook sat next to you, head falling on your shoulder. 

“Don’t blame him Y/N,” he said, hand hitting your knee. 

“J,” you started, “You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for him.” 

“That’s not true. We both know that,” Rook responded and you looked up at the sky, hoping you had enough patience to deal with this. 

-

Sitting in the passenger seat, you stared at the driver’s mirror, watching the boys in the back. Slim had slumped against the leather, eyes closed. Rook was half on top of him, mouth open as he drooled. Colson was the only one awake, biting his lip staring out the window. 

A part of you wanted to yell at him, scold him for getting your little brother tangled up with this lifestyle, being a bad influence. But another part of you wanted to give him a hug, stroke his hair off his forehead. And then there was a teeny, tiny part of you that wanted to kiss his stupid, chapped lips, play with his broken fingers, hold ice against his purpled knuckles. 

That part of you was new. You had always thought you hated Colson, despised him for messing up Rook’s life, and that’s why you two were always biting at each other. But then this weekend, he had hurled his usual insults and you’d seen something sparkle in his eye. And then you’d both gotten fucked up off of ecstasy and he whispered your name, and all of a sudden all you could think about was him on top of you, panting out your name over and over again. You’d run off to bed then, claiming that you were tired, but really you were overthinking every single interaction you’d had with Colson since knowing him. 

-

Pulling up to the hotel, you thanked the driver. Opening the back door, you helped the three idiots, trying to keep their limbs in check as they sleepily slumped out. Colson was the last one, slamming the door closed before throwing you a weak smile. Holding up Slim, he asked, “I’ll make sure he gets back to his room. You trust me enough for that?”

You nodded, wrapping Rook’s arm around your neck so you could lift him slightly. “Can we talk before you go to bed?” you pushed, knowing that if you put this off until tomorrow, the conversation wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t sober, but this was the closest you would get to hearing the entire story of tonight without all three of the guys changing around details. 

“Yeah, come over after Rookie’s in bed,” he murmured over his shoulder. You smiled at the use of Rook’s little nickname, and then caught yourself quickly, throwing a neutral face back on. Getting into the elevator, you suddenly felt exhausted, the night taking a toll on you. 

-

Stomach grumbling as soon as you pushed Rook into bed, you looked around the floor for any snack machines. Remembering the cereal box you had stolen from breakfast back in your room, you went upstairs. Reaching your door, you stood in front, rooting around in your purse for the key card. Coming up empty, you frowned, trying again to feel the cool piece of plastic. Nothing. 

Then, it hit you. You had left the key on the table next to your hotel bed, taking it out of your purse since this was supposed to be your last night here. “Fuck,” you muttered, rushing to the elevator door. Walking out into the lobby, you went to the front desk, only to see it empty. There was nobody around to talk to and you let out another curse as your phone buzzed.

Colson Baker: you can come over. room 536.

Deciding to go up first, you got back on the elevator, praying for an easy talk. Knocking on the door, you edged it open before walking in. Colson sat on his bed, leaning against the backboard. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he’d kicked off his shoes, socked feet crossed at the end. He was holding a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other, and you pushed his feet aside as you plopped on the edge of his bed. 

“Pass the peanut butter?” you asked, gesturing to the jar in his hand. He snorted before leaning off the backboard to give it over. Taking the jar, you hesitated before reaching over to take his spoon too. Dipping it in, you scooped up a nice spoonful before eating it. 

“Mmhm, I’m starving,” you murmured between thick peanut butter. 

“Me too, give it back,” he said, arm reaching out as you moved back out of reach.

“Nope. Not until you explain this shitty situation,” you said, smiling sweetly as you took another spoonful. 

He sighed before leaning back fully, hand rubbing over his face. He had a little bit of stubble, highlighted by the dim yellow of the lamp. His knuckles looked worse here, deep purple and you reached out before you could help yourself. Bringing his hand up to your eyes, you ran a finger over the bruises. 

“Colson,” you sighed out and he shifted a little, sitting upright so that he was closer to you. 

“I know,” he started, and you looked up at him. 

“What happened,” you asked, letting his hand drop in between you both. 

“We were at a bar. I was fucked up already. Slim and Rook had smoked a little, but then they drank and got crossed. There was a group of girls and we danced around a little, but they didn’t want to do anything so we backed off. Then, these guys started getting all up on them and they weren’t listening, so I threw a punch. Things get kinda hazy after that,” he ended, eyes staring straight at you. 

You didn’t say anything, processing the information. Of fucking course they had started a bar fight. Biting your cheek, you asked, “And then you got arrested?”

“I guess. Next thing I know, I’m in fucking handcuffs and we’re getting pulled out of the bar. Rookie freaked out, tried to call you once we got there. And then they let me go, so I tried again and you picked up,” he mumbled, pressing down on his own knuckles. 

“Okay,” you breathed out, “I’m not going to yell at you.” 

He snorted at that, leaning back, putting both his arms above his head. 

“But the next time I get a fucking call from jail, I’m leaving you all to rot there,” you finished, putting the peanut butter jar on the bed, towards him. 

“Noted,” he nodded, closing his eyes. 

Taking in his appearance, you grimaced at the state of his hands. Picking up his key card from the nightstand, you got up. You left the room with an ice bucket before he could even realize, walking to the machine on the floor. Gathering a few ice cubes, you unlocked his door, walking back in. 

“Where’d you go,” he mustered out, sounding a little hoarse. 

“Ice,” you responded, before taking a few tissues from the desk. Making a makeshift ice pack, you sat back on the bed. 

Carefully reaching for his arms, you pulled one down. He extended his fingers, looking down at them himself. 

“Yeah, I guess I fucked myself over bad,” he said, moving his fingers slowly. 

“You’re an asshole who can’t stop himself,” you responded, gingerly laying the ice across his knuckles. He winced a little and you lifted it up. 

“Keep it there, feels good,” he mumbled, using his other hand to guide yours back to his bruises. 

Looking up, you made eye contact and the world softened its edges for a second. 

Kicking into a panic, you quickly moved back, pulling your hand out. He gripped on the tissue ice pack, confused. You let out a breath before getting up, walking over to the desk where the hotel phone sat. Finding the reception number, you picked up the phone, dialing in the numbers. Crossing your fingers, you were on the line for a second before the message started up,” We’re sorry. No one is available at this time.” 

“Fuck,” you muttered, slamming down the phone. 

“What,” Colson asked, and you looked over at the bed. His eyes were closed, the ice pack sitting on the nightstand, creating a little puddle. 

“I locked myself out of my room, no one’s downstairs,” you explained, reaching for your cell phone. His eyes opened at that, and you saw him looking as you called Rook. 

“Of course he isn’t picking up,” you muttered to yourself. It would be so easy to just fall asleep in your brother’s bed, living like you were kids again. 

“Rook’s dead to the world,” Colson mumbled out as he slowly got up. You saw him moving and you paused, mid-pace. 

“Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor or something,” he said, reaching up to stretch. His shirt rode up a little and you saw the triple X tattoo peeking out his waistband, tempting you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, you just got beat up dude. Take the bed, I’ll sleep in the bathtub or something. Throw me a pillow,” you stated, shrugging off your jacket. 

He gave you a look before shaking his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Just stay on the bed,” he said, pulling one of the sheets off. 

“No. I wanna sleep in the bathtub,” you threw back, reaching for the sheet from him.

“You’re gonna fight me on this too?” he asked, letting go of the sheet as you stumbled a little. 

“It’s not that serious Colson. Go the fuck to sleep,” you spat out, turning around to the bathroom.  

Walking in, you paused a little as your socked feet hit the cold tiles. The bathtub wasn’t really big, covered in a layer of grime. Trying to figure out a way to clean it up, you searched around, eyes only finding the little complimentary bottles of shampoo. 

Stepping back out of the bathroom, you saw Colson already in the bed. The covers were pulled up to his head, blonde tuft sticking out. You knew he wasn’t asleep, hearing the sounds of his phone under the blanket.

 There were two options here: you could either lay on the dirty floor, covered in stickiness from everyone’s bar-laced Converses or you could get in bed with him. The right choice was evident, and you reminded yourself exactly why you couldn’t stand him before moving over to the other side of the bed. 

Placing the pillow you had taken back down on the bed, you laid the sheet down. You couldn’t really see Colson, he had taken over one side of the bed and you knew that he probably wasn’t sure that you were there. Nudging his shoulder, you lifted the covers from his head. 

He looked up at you once, then saw the pillow right next to him. Shifting so that he was fully facing you, he grinned before saying, “Sleeping with me tonight?” 

“God, could you be any more fucking annoying,” you muttered, sitting on the side of the bed. 

“I’m just stating the facts,” he said, hands rubbing over his bare chest. You glared at him, before getting up and grabbing his white shirt from the desk. 

Throwing it to him, you barked, “Put it back on.” 

He gave you an incredulous look, before shrugging it on. 

“Happy now? Thin cotton makes a great barrier,” he scoffed. 

You looked at him once before grinning, muttering, “Just peachy.”

Getting into bed, you brought your knees close up to your chest. This was a comfortable position for you, and you wrapped an arm around yourself before mumbling out, “Stay on your side or I’ll cut your balls off.” 

Not even waiting for a response, you let your eyes close. You had tired yourself out with this adventure, and within seconds you were sleeping. 

Waking up an hour later, you blinked your eyes at the harsh light coming through the opened curtains. You had a pounding headache, letting out a little groan as you shifted. Moving just a little, you felt something slump over your waist. Lifting the covers, you saw Colson’s hand, leaning against your hip, heat radiating off of it. Your heart stuttered a little, before you slightly moved it off of yourself. 

A minute later, you decided to get up for the day. You wanted to check with the receptionist to see if you could get back into your own hotel room. Pushing yourself up, you turned just a little to look at Colson’s sleeping form. 

His head was smashed into the pillow, hair flopping over his forehead. One of his hands was outstretched, reaching towards you while the other was wrapped around his own torso. He looked peaceful, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Taking in the sight of a quiet, angelic Colson Baker, you smiled before getting off the bed. 

Walking over to the phone, you called the number again, twirling the cord as you looked through the window at the vacant parking lot.

“Portland’s Finest. How can we help you Mr.Baker?” a voice spoke, tinny through the phone. 

“Oh hi, I um- I’m Y/N. I locked myself out of my room,” you mumbled into the line. 

“Oh, sorry about that Ms. Y/N. Why don’t you come down here and we can figure this out,” the receptionist spoke and you responded quickly, hanging up the line. 

Grabbing your purse, you pulled on your shoes. Picking up your coat, you passed Colson sleeping as you stood at the door. Waiting for a second, you shuffled back to the bed, leaning down. Kissing his forehead quickly, you sighed before walking out the door. It was going to be a long day.

[offtopicoverload]

Disney Princess - 2

Day late, but oh well, I got it done and that's an accomplishment in itself.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

T Rating (just grumpy Aurora in this one lol)

Aurora x f!MC (Rylen Damen (changed it lol)) 

~4.3k

Read on Ao3

-

Aurora Emery is tired.

She’s incredibly tired, of anything and everything. She can barely sleep anymore, she can barely relax, and now she can barely focus on her work. Which is arguably the worst of the three, since this is her livelihood, her passion, her priority. It’s what she’s always excelled at, it’s what she’s poured years and years of her life into, and now she doesn’t even know what she’s reading and has to restart at the top of page 268, for the fourth time now.

But instead of rereading once more, she huffs, slams her textbook shut, and falls back on her bed, staring up at the plain, empty ceiling as if it will solve all her problems for her. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and that fact only further irritates her. She turns on her side, facing her open window and the lights spilling into the ill-lit room through the glass panes. Lights from the buildings surrounding her own, lights from traffic swimming in the current of the street, lights from neon signs and street lamps lining the sidewalk, lights that provide a tiny glimpse of sunshine in the chilling dark of night.

Her phone buzzes from behind her, shaking the comforter underneath her, and, with a sigh, she tosses her arm backwards and searches for it, her palm fumbling along her comforter as she does. When she finally finds it she grips her case tight as she draws her arm back, and unlocks it to find a notification from Rylen Damen. ‘Hey Princess,’ Aurora rolls her eyes, ‘How’s Jonathon Quell? Did you figure out what was wrong?’

She sighs, pulling her other hand from beneath the weight of her body, and begins typing, ‘It was a bacterial infection. His results arrived this morning and we ran through his treatment plan this afternoon. He should make a full recovery,’ she sends, dropping her phone back to the bed as she does.

But of course, that’s not the end of the conversation; it never is with Rylen. Aurora’s phone vibrates again, and she turns it on to find ‘:DDDDDDDDD’ staring back at her, her mind immediately replicating the obnoxious smile Rylen has when she’s excited.

Her lips twist as she stares at the obscene image, an image she cannot fathom sending to a colleague when discussing patients, an image that she hates she knows it’s actual equivalent to, before she begins typing with another sigh, her curiosity getting the best of her, ‘Not that I’m advocating for this professional conversation to turn at all casual, but why not use emojis?’

‘I dunno,’ pops up almost immediately, ‘Just always used them. Old habits die hard, I guess,’ arrives just as quickly.

‘Okay,’ Aurora types, somewhat eagerly for a change, ‘Now are we done here?’ She taps the side of her phone case - some random black one with red flowers she found at the store she bought the device from - distractedly, waiting for her escape from this horrendous exchange.

Rylen’s response is just as fast, a few dots bouncing before grey explodes on the screen, ‘Ouch, Princess, you really don’t like me.’

Aurora rolls her eyes at her screen, frown firmly in place as her fingers fly back to the keyboard, ‘This is a professional interaction, and if we have run out of professional material to discuss, then this conversation has come to an end.’

‘You must be a blast at parties,’ Aurora rolls her eyes again, a seemingly constant urge when around Rylen or even interacting virtually, just as her phone pings again, ‘Sorry, *professional parties*’ she corrects.

And Aurora barely suppresses another eye roll, frowning heavily at her screen, even as her lips fight against her to quirk upwards the tiniest amount, ‘I don’t go to parties.’

‘No kidding.’

Aurora glares at the letters, at the challenge held within them, at the unbridled insult staring her in the face. ‘Do you?’ she retaliates, the faintest droplets of hurt welling somewhere inside herself.

‘Too busy. Why, you asking me out? ;)’

Aurora shakes her head exasperatedly with an exhale from her nose, simultaneously fighting against the growing smile on her lips even harder. She forces it away as soon as she realizes it’s there, her jaw clenching and nostrils flaring in irritation as she decides it’s time to put an end to this absurdity provoked by Rylen, ‘Enjoy your evening, Damen, I have work to do.’

‘Night, Princess,’ buzzes her phone for the last time, a final message to bookend a conversation Aurora would rather not repeat again, but she knows she will. And it’s some odd mix of infuriating and oddly comforting, knowing that even if she tries to shut her up, Rylen will still be there chattering away, coming up with joke after joke, tease after tease, all presumably to force Aurora into smiling or something of the like.

Rylen once asked Aurora if her muscles were incapable of moving like that, of lifting in a smile, and Aurora scowled in response. Rylen put her hands up in self-defense, eyes wide as she explained that she was only curious why Aurora never looked happy, that it was an innocent question. And Aurora’s terse reply had shut her up quite quickly: “If I find something that makes me happy, then I’ll smile.”

Aurora sighs, letting her gaze shift to the blank, unassuming ceiling once again. Her eyelids fall shut as she sucks in a deep breath, steadying herself as best she can, working to dissolve her irritation and annoyance as her chest rises with each calming breath. Then she launches upwards, grabs her textbook, and flips it open to page 268 to continue reading. After what feels like forever, she’s managed through each of the passages she needed to read, and gathers her books and papers to settle them on her desk.

She flops back on her bed after she clears it, staring at the dull, boring ceiling for another quiet moment before scooting up to the pillows and tossing the covers back. She sinks into her pillow, hating how unfamiliar the sensation has become in recent weeks - maybe even months - and grabs her phone to set an alarm. She moves to plug it in on her nightstand, but before she does, she opens her messages again, scrolling to her last conversation for one final text: ‘Night, Damen.’

---

An alarm blares near Aurora’s head, startling her awake just as sunlight creeps above the horizon outside, glinting through her still-open window and bathing her in yellows and oranges. With a huff, she turns off the blasting noise, suppressing the urge to throw her phone against the wall as she does, and crawls out of bed reluctantly. She retreats to the bathroom for a quick shower and throws on her scrubs when she’s done, just two more steps in the constant routine that’s been her life for years now.

She leaves the apartment without breakfast, she enters Edenbrook without any greetings or warm welcomes, she works her shift without any breaks or breathers. She works until she has nothing to work on, until the nurses are looking at her funny as she orders exam after exam, and until her aunt’s calling her into her office. Only she wishes she could just keep working, keep ignoring her aunt and keep helping people, it’s the entire reason she’s here, anything else is a distraction, a waste.

Another buzz shakes her phone as she exits Harper Emery’s office with a huff, her features twisted in frustration as she shuts the door behind her with a thud. She stalks down the corridor outside, glaring at anyone that dares to look in her direction, interns and residents alike. She stops outside a patient’s room, pulling in a deep, steadying breath as her phone vibrates in her pocket once more.

With a roll of her eyes, she pulls it from her pocket, flicking open to the last person she wants to talk to, but is the least surprised by at this point. ‘What about Cynthia Lane?’ is the first one she sees. ‘Did you figure out Nathan McAllister too?’ is above it.

She rolls her eyes at the messages, at the gall of Rylen to insert herself into hospital affairs from her apartment, miles away. ‘They are in my care for a reason, Damen, I assure you that all your previous patients are fine,’ she types back, tapping her foot as she does.

‘Sorry,’ fires back almost immediately, as if Rylen was waiting on the edge of her seat for some sort of answer. ‘You’ve definitely got this,’ a beat later, with a smiley face tacked on the end, before one last message arrives, ‘Just keep me updated? Please?’

Aurora sighs, tapping her foot and considering a response. But she can’t think of any outside of providing Rylen with her request, so she pockets her phone without sending another message and steps into her patient’s room, forcing a tight smile on her lips. He smiles back, though much more relaxed, and she runs through the usual, familiar, boring routine that’s starting to drag on her day by day, wearing her down quicker than it should. And all the while, she plans out her analysis of this patient for Rylen, focusing her energy on the recent addition.

---

A day later, Aurora’s flying from room to room, floor to floor, and wing to wing. And she hates it. She hates that she’s running around like a chicken with its head cut off, she hates that she’s the only one working, alone in the stark halls, and she hates that her aunt refused to listen to her earlier, ignoring her words and piling more charts in her arms.

She tugs a door shut behind her, already scanning another chart as she hurries down the hall to the next room. She repeats the process all morning, lines and lines of exams, results, treatments, medical histories, anything and everything fill her mind, imprint on the back of her eyelids, drown her in monotony and the emptiness of Edenbrook today.

Her phone buzzes against her as it rests in her pocket, an annoyingly familiar sensation now. And she doesn’t even have to guess who it’s from; no one else texts her, least of all when she’s in the middle of a shift. She pulls the offending device out with a huff, immediately greeted with ‘Didn’t see you at the hearing.’

Aurora’s jaw clenches, eyes alight as she drops her stack of papers on the nurse’s station she’s found herself at. ‘For your information, I’m working, rather than wasting my time on something so ridiculous. This is a hospital, people need help, and you’re stealing all the decent doctors from them,’ she types furiously, irritated at both her situation and the circumstance the entire hospital has found itself in, all because of Rylen.

She waits for a response but after a minute or so, it’s clear she’s not going to  receive one. She shuts her phone off entirely, jamming it in her back pocket as she carries on, a scowl plastered on her face as she works, and works, and works. She meets with new patients and attendings, she assists old ones, she even discharges two, but the entire time she’s irritated and frustrated and just so tired.

Nearly the entire hospital’s at that hearing, she has every right to be there, too. This impacts every single member of the staff, she has every right to know what could happen to her career. This affects one of her colleagues, she has every right to know what’s going to happen to her, whether or not she’s going to see her in the hallways and put up with that absurd grin that she can call upon in a fraction of a second.

She sighs as she exits another room, flicking through her files and folders and stack of papers, and starts for a nurse’s station, dropping papers off with the few people still working. She forces a smile at Danny as he beams at her, before spinning on her heel and starting for the atrium, gritting her teeth as she marches down a series of hallways. She drags a hand through her hair as she draws near, finding a crowded atrium as she exits into it. She grits her teeth as her aunt spots her, waving her over with a smile.

She obliges, snaking through the gathered groups of doctors and observers until she reaches one Harper Emery. “Aurora, perfect, I was just about to send a page for you,” she greets cheerily.

Aurora forces a minuscule smile back, opening her mouth to respond when Harper cuts her off, “I have new assignments for you, I’m guessing you finished your previous ones?” she inquires with a smile.

“Well, actually,” Aurora begins, shifting on her feet and forcing herself to meet Harper’s gaze, “I was hoping I could come watch the hearing to see the outcome,” she explains.

Harper shakes her head, “No, you should be working,” she answers, rather sternly.

Aurora bristles at the tone, “Everyone else is watching the hearing, why can’t I?” she counters, her lips twisting downwards into a frown.

“Because, Aurora,” Harper begins gently, Aurora only further bristling, “this is the perfect chance for you to pick up some extra cases,” she smiles encouragingly.

“But…”

Harper ignores her quiet protest, “Report to Dr. Alondra, then Dr. Mirrielees.” And Aurora can’t take it. She can’t take being ignored and forced to walk those empty halls when everyone else gets to be a part of something so important, and crucial, and she can’t take that she can’t be there to see what happens to Rylen. Harper’s continued, “Tell them I sent you -”

“God, Aunt Harper, would you just stop?” Aurora explodes, “You don’t listen to me! Ever since I got here, you’ve used me to feel like you’re still practicing.” Her face has contorted into an brazen scowl now as she spits the words.

“That’s… that’s not true,” Harper stammers, staring at Aurora in disbelief and simultaneously attempting to wrangle the surprise on her face.

“No? Tell me how much you love being chief, then,” Aurora challenges, drawing herself to her full height. “Tell me how you don’t miss being a surgeon. How much you love paperwork and kissing up to scumbags like Declan Nash! How much you didn’t care about getting back in the O.R. the other day!”

Harper plasters on her own scowl now, “Aurora, you can’t talk to me this way!”

Aurora only laughs coldly in response. She’s done with the ‘can’t’s and the ‘no’s, she’s done with being her aunt’s lap dog, she’s done with conforming to someone else’s ideals for her. She’s done with this, with all of this. “You know what the hilarious thing is? Damen is exactly who you’ve always wanted me to be and you’re letting Nash railroad her out of a fair hearing.”

Harper doesn’t respond, her face tight as Aurora meets her gaze in challenge. She can feel pressure building behind her eyes, but she’s not giving up, she’s not giving in, she’s not losing this fight like she’s lost countless others. If she has to work herself to exhaustion, alone every step of the way, she’s doing it on her own terms.

Harper only huffs, turning away from Aurora and striding in the direction of the hall that’s held the hearing. Aurora turns too, storming across the atrium with her face set in a glare, firing it at anyone stupid enough to stare at her, to acknowledge the raised voices that came from her and Harper. She sneers at some random intern that still doesn’t get the message, and they quickly avert their eyes.

She turns forward again, and, for the second time today, Aurora catches Rylen’s gaze across the room. Only she’s not interested in conversation this time, she’s not interested in wishing Rylen luck as she faces the demise of her career, she’s not interested in even holding her gaze. She’s not interested in anything to do with Rylen Damen, plain and simple. “What?” Aurora snaps at her.

She watches Rylen stutter for a second, her eyes displaying her evident shock at whatever’s just occurred before her, until a grin splits her lips in half a heartbeat, “Thanks for standing up for me.”

Aurora’s frown remains firmly in place as she meets eager eyes, “That wasn’t for you, Damen. That was for me.” She stands taller, flicking her gaze away from Rylen’s, “But you’re welcome anyway,” she mumbles awkwardly, her feet already moving again as she retreats from that stupid smile, that smile that seems to be Rylen’s default, that smile that was present in the fourth floor supply closet.

She retreats in the direction of the hearing’s hall, slipping inside carefully to remain as unnoticed as possible. She takes a seat, slumping in it in the back corner behind two random interns that won’t stop chattering, even as the hall begins filling up, even as the board retakes their places, even as everyone else within the grand room slowly quiets. It’s become still enough that Aurora can hear what they’re saying now, even as they whisper, “Dude, she killed someone,” one of them insists, “Throw her in jail, she’s fucking crazy.”

Aurora jerks forward in her seat before she can even consider reacting, lips pulled back in a snarl as red sparks in the corners of her vision, “Hey!” she hisses, a low, vicious sound. The interns turn, eyes wide, and Aurora focuses in on the one that uttered something so ridiculous. “You wanna stand up and tell everyone that? Or you gonna keep whispering like a coward?” she hisses again, watching his features slowly morph from surprise to fear as he takes in not only the person speaking to him, but the expression on her face.

His jaw falls open as he glances to his friend, eyes wild and face quickly flushing red. But his friend only leans away, hands raised in surrender as he abandons his friend to the wolves. Or, more accurately, a furious Aurora Emery. He turns back to her, stuttering incessantly, “I, um, so - er - I didn’t - that’s - well - okay - er, I, uh…” he stalls, face paling as Aurora sinks into her seat again.

“Then keep your mouth shut,” she snarls, a slight sense of pride blossoming in her chest at the way the intern adamantly nods his head, turning back to his friend just to get laughed at. She’s about to snap at him too for treating her understandable frustration as something comedic, when Rylen retakes her spot at the podium, the entire hall silencing immediately.

Aurora taps her foot anxiously as she watches Rylen standing at the podium before the gathered group of attendings. She watches the way Rylen stands ram-rod straight, her spine like a ruler and her body rigid as she stares ahead, eyes trained on the people before her, the people judging her. She watches the way Rylen relaxes some as she mentions her friends, turning back to them with a small smile, the words like an activator, alighting something inside her.

She watches the way Rylen uses that fire, her face settling into stone as Dr. Chandra asks her a final question, “Do you regret what you’ve done?”

Her jaw sets as she speaks, clear and determined, her voice ringing in the hall, “I regret distracting us from what matters. This hospital is full of sick people who need our help. But instead we’re in here, debating the consequences of my actions. So if you’re gonna pull my privileges, let’s get it over with. Because all of you need to get back to work,” she accuses, fingers gripping the podium and knuckles turning white.

And Aurora watches the entire speech with a slight smile crooking her lips, some combination of self-satisfaction and pride swirling in her stomach, stirring her, provoking her to shift forward, knees on her elbows as she watches intently. As she watches the vote that determines Rylen’s entire future, that might even determine Edenbrook’s entire future. “The seven panelists will now vote whether to revoke Dr. Valentine’s privileges at Edenbrook,” Harper begins, adjusting in her chair and looking down towards the other panelists.

Until the door at the back of the hall swings in, a low voice booming throughout the room, “You weren’t going to start without me, were you?” Dr. Banerji’s cheery tone echoes, stealing every pair of eyes in the room as he enters, an intern Rylen knows - Landry, Aurora corrects - helping him walk down the aisle.

Aurora’s eyes flicker to Rylen, to the shock on her face as her mouth hangs open, the artificial lighting playing in her wide eyes. Rylen blinks, still processing the man before her, “Dr. Banerji?” she whispers, and it’s too far for Aurora to hear, but enough for her to make out the shape of Rylen’s lips as she murmurs.

“Sorry for the wait. Once he woke up, I got him here as fast as I could,” Landry announces, still aiding the older man towards the board of gathered panelists, carefully and slowly.

“Naveen, what are you doing here? You said you were retiring,” Harper’s standing now, palms flat on the table as she gapes at Banerji with her own wide eyes.

Dr. Banerji laughs lightly, albeit weakly, “I should have said I was expiring,” he clarifies with a grin, somehow unafraid in the face of death. “Until yesterday, I was on the verge of death. Sepsis of unknown origin,” he continues.”Unknown, that is, until Dr. Damen gave up her last day to prepare for this hearing by solving my case.” Rylen’s cheeks flush as she bows her head, avoiding the eyes settling on her. “Now then, I believe that seat still has my name on it,” Dr. Banerji beams to the board.

Declan Nash jumps to his feet, his face beet-red, “Cyrus! Stop this!” he whisper-shouts in the direction of one of the panelists, earning a panicked expression from the doctor in question.

He fumbles to follow the order just given to him, “That’s, uh, fantastic news, Dr. Banerji, but I’m afraid it’s too late for you to vote. Procedure and all…”

“You never were a good liar, Cyrus,” Banerji tuts disapprovingly, even with his grin still firmly glued to his face. “Now then,” he takes his seat, Landry retreating to the audience, “Given the circumstances of my resurrection, I think we all know what I’m about to say. That’s going to be a ‘nay’ from me.”

Two more ‘nay’s echo Dr. Banerji, until the attention falls on Harper. Her brow furrows as she visibly regards her options, eyes roving across the hall before coming to rest on… Aurora. Aurora meets her gaze, attempting to force the anxiety from her eyes as best she can, still slumped in her seat and tapping her foot, an unstoppable beat that shakes her entire body as it continues and continues and continues, just like Harper’s gaze pinning her to the spot. Just like the nerves squirming inside of her, just like the exhaustion eating away at her.

Declan mutters something to Harper, every feature on his face drawn tight, a snarl splitting his lips as he glares at her, still bright red.

Harper draws in a deep breath, finally removing her eyes from Aurora and settling them on Rylen, Aurora relaxing as her heavy, contemplative gaze leaves her. “Dr. Damen, you’ve proven you’re someone who focuses as much on what a patient wants as what their body needs…” she pauses, Rylen visibly twitching with anxiety at the gap in speech. “But we’re not here to save bodies. We’re here to save lives. I vote nay,” Harper nods, Rylen instantaneously melting on the spot.

Her head bows to the podium, her shoulders rising and falling with deep, steadying breaths as the board continues, three more ‘nay’s sounding and applause beginning to echo at the prompting of Bryce Lahela, another of Rylen’s friends, a surgeon. But Rylen doesn’t move, eyes glued to the podium as she grips it, potentially even harder than before, her knuckles pale as they remain clenched.

The room spins into chaos around her, cheers from her friends, a few disappointed murmurings that Aurora may have to stamp out, and the shouts of Declan Nash as he attempts to fight the resolution. It’s mayhem, pandemonium, but the entire time, Rylen stays frozen, a peaceful island escape from the waves of disaster.

When Rylen’s head finally shoots up, a brilliant smile is on her lips in a heartbeat as she steps around the podium, nearly skipping as she walks to the board with her hand held out. She stops at every single panelist, shaking their hand and sharing small conversation with them, even the ones that worked for her downfall. By the time she reaches the end of the board, she’s almost bouncing on her feet as she turns back to her friends, rushing over to tackle Sienna Trinh in a hug, lifting her off her feet as she does.

All the while, Aurora’s sitting in the back of the hall, her foot no longer tapping as she shifts her gaze to the floor beneath her feet, observing the light playing of it, reflecting, creating shadows from nothing. That’s all it takes, is one spark, one illumination, one flicker to send the world careening to a stop or to kick it back into action. All it takes is one catalyst, one butterfly effect, for Aurora to sit alone, facing the floor as Rylen celebrates her victory. One tiny domino for her phone to buzz, ‘Looks like you’re stuck with me, Princess.’

It takes a second, but Aurora grins at the letters, at the message. Unabashedly, she grins for what feels like the first time in forever, not caring who sees, not caring what someone will think at Aurora Emery smiling and what that could possibly mean. She even snorts at the next message, the next letters, because she knows the exact beaming smile it’s meant to convey, the smile still sparkling across the room: ‘:DDDDDDDDDDDDDD’

[opalmaplehibiscus]

Beauty and the Beast

HC of Vil Past and Vil and Jack’s interaction Theory 

·       It was the usual routine

·       Elders shaking their heads at him while parents whisper and gossips whenever he passes by

·       Kid either throwing insults at him or pulling him into an alley to beat him up for laughs and giggles like right now

·       It’s the same old, same old – not once missing out

·       He likes make up over action figures and weapon toys, window shopping and clothes over playing sports or competing in roguish games

·       His likes go against society’s standards of what boys should be interested in at his age, making him the “clown”, the “entertainer”

·       He knows that this is why he’s in his current predicament, being held up by the collar while getting laughed at as kids points at him and encourage each other to beat “the freak” up

·       Or was supposed to. To Vil’s surprise, a boy, younger and smaller than him with wolf-like ears and tail, yells at his assaulters to stop attacking him

·       In no less than a minute, he gets dropped down to the ground as they run away after hearing the kid threaten to call his parents that happen to be shopping at the store around the corner

·       Shame, embarrassment, yet gratefulness covers Vil’s being as he lies on there and tries to recover his strength

·       He slowly gets up only to feel two tiny hands grab hold of him and attempt to support him while asking if he’s okay

·       Vil clicks his tongue as he feels whatever pride he had left in him shatter a bit, pulling himself away from the kid

·       Not even bothering to answer the kid’s question, he tells the kid to leave him alone and not approach him again if he knew what was good for him before limping away and back to his home

·       A few days later he meets the kid again, this time when he’s running a couple errands for his parents

·       He’s being treated the same way as always but he ignores it as he asks for a bag of potatoes from the vegetable stall vendor

·       Putting the bag over his small shoulder, he grabs the rest of the things he bought and walks back home only to feel something was really off

·       Turning his head slightly over his shoulders, he sees the kid who saved him from the alley watching him with sparkling eyes

·       He honestly couldn’t help but question if that kid’s parents are actually looking after him properly as he constantly watches the kid from the corner of his eyes following him as he walks back towards him home

·       Finally having enough, Vil turns around and calls the kid out, asking him what the heck he wants

·       He rolls his eyes as he yells out that he could see the kid’s tail sticking out behind the street light post

·       It feels like his shoulders were going to fall of their sockets as he waits for the kid who shyly approaches him

·       Ears pressed against his head and tail wagging back and forth lowly, he honestly didn’t expect the kid to ask him how he was so strong

·       When Vil raises an eyebrow and replies with a “huh?”, the kid talks about how Vil was so cool, being able to carry a lot of heavy things despite his age and size

·       Confusion was all Vil could feel at the moment as this kid praises him about his strength and asks Vil to teach him how to be as strong as him

·       He bluntly says no and leaves the kid standing there as he walks the rest of the distance to his home

·       On the next day, when Vil gets woken up by the sound of something hitting his window, he initially panics

·       The thoughts of his bullies deciding to go low as to come to his own home and attack him was what he thought of at first

·       Carefully grabbing a book to shield himself, he carefully approaches  his bedroom’s window and peaks through the crack of the curtain

·       Low and behold, it’s the same kid again but this time waving a stick and calling him out to come play with him

·       Not wanting his parents to find out about the kid, Vil quickly changes his clothes and head outside

·       The minute he does, Vil scowls at the boy, demanding him how he found out where he lived and why he was here in the first place

·       Frustration and annoyance bubbles inside him when the kid tells him how he found out that the two lived close to each other and found his house by going to the one that seemed to have his scent the strongest, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

·       As for why he was here? He wanted to train under Vil of course! That’s why he got up and head towards Vil’s home the minute he woke up!

·       Realizing how the kid wasn’t to leave him alone until he complies, Vil feels a vein popping on the side of his forehead before he agrees

·       He tells the kid that he has no intentions of being nice or gentle when he trains him as the kid eagerly  nods his head in agreement

·       With a sigh, he asks for the kid’s name who  enthusiastically responds with “Jack Howl”

·       First two days of training and Vil already wants to give up on this kid. He couldn’t stand how Jack wasn’t able to even lift up the bag of potatoes Vil carried by itself

·       He yells at Jack and tells him to fix his form as he watches Jack tries to pick up the bag of potatoes

·       “Again, again, are you a potato or what? Put the weight into your back legs and use your tummy to help pick up the bag you baby potato!” and the like were what Vil would usually scream

·       Is he aware he was being harsh and irrational? Yes. After all, he never wanted to train Jack from the start hence him behaving like this

·       When Jack successfully does it, perfectly to a T, on the 3rd day though, Vil will admit – he was impressed

·       He honestly thought Jack would’ve given up yet it’s obviously he never did as Jack does it with utmost perfect form. Well aside from the childish yell when he raises it over his head with shaky arms

·       Vil doesn’t know why but for some reason, after seeing that, he didn’t want to give up on Jack. To him, Jack was too interesting and he guess his curious got better of himself as he gives the wolf pup a smirk

·       Soon enough, Vil and Jack gets closer to each other as Vil continued to train Jack

·       From staying over and eating dinner at his house to now running errands together, Vil finds himself being happy, actually enjoying someone’s company

·       Sure, he became a bit busier and the time to practice his make up skills and studying fashion lessen, but…he’s having fun

·       He answers some personal questions Jack asks about himself as their bond deepen, remembering the time when Jack asked about why he liked make up so much

·       It was his first time ever getting close to actually getting angry at Jack when he hears about how “make-up was for girls” and its concept of being feminine

·       That day Vil patted himself on the back for being able to not actually rage as he quietly listens on to Jack’s explanation, realizing it was an innocent question than to insulting him after Jack tells him how the people around him taught him that

·       As a reply, Vil reveals to Jack about how all those cool actors and male singers on TV, movies, and even fashion magazines all wore make-up which allows them to emphasize their characteristics even more

·       Vil tells Jack that, that was why he wanted to do make up. He tells Jack how just because someone was beautiful doesn’t mean they’re weak – like a super power a hero has, beauty too is a type of power. Though not physical, beauty can bring forth one’s hidden skills and strenghts

·       He ends up laughing when Jack tells him with a look of admiration that he didn’t understand a single thing he just said yet in the same time did

·       He laughs harder when Jack pouts at him

·       But all good things must come to an end when Vil’s assaulters decides to attack Jack

·       All they did was insult him here and there however this time, going as low as to saying how his own parents even disapproves of his hobbies and how they pity them for having a “freak” like him as their son

·       His hands clench the bags he was holding as he looks at the ground and tries to hold his anger in, only to hear the sound of a fist meeting a cheek

·       Looking up, he sees the one saying that one the ground as Jack was huffing

·       All hell went lose when one of the bullies raise a hand and actually hit Jack

·       One thing led to the next and Vil takes down the group on his own, not showing mercy as he uses his full strength to take them down

·       After seeing the fear settling into their eyes, Vil finally stops and lets them go

·       Getting up he half expected Jack to hold either disgust or fear yet he’s met with eyes filled with frustration

·       Jack’s two fists were trembling as he asks Vil with glossy eyes why he never defended himself like he did for Jack when people hurt him

·       Vil sighs before explaining how he didn’t want to waste his strength on those that were obviously weaker than him while adding on how, despite how much he hated it, he knows where they were coming from

·       When Vil points out how it was because of how he seemed to have proven Jack wrong from the rumors the little wolf heard, it was what made Jack interested in him at first

·       Seeing guilt in Jack’s eyes, Vil clicks his tongue, feeling annoyed, angry and tired from everything he endured so far and grumbles that this was why he didn’t want Jack involved with him

·       He didn’t want to be others’ source of sick amusement nor get anyone dragged into his business and get hurt since it would be meddlesome if they did

·       Just when he’s about to wave Jack off, he doesn’t expect Jack to yell at him, like actually yell at him that he was wrong about what Jack thought about him

·       Jack admits how “Vil-san” was right about why Jack was intrigued with him in the first place. Despite that though, Jack never once thought of Vil as an “entertainer”

·       For him, he would often makes final thoughts on a person after seeing them with his two eyes on what their like

·       It didn’t matter to him what rumors said about Vil because after watching Vil and hanging around him, he realized how great Vil was and that “Vil-san” was someone worth respecting and looking up to as a role model

·       Jack goes on about how he admires Vil’s resolve and determination to become beautiful while holding strong to his own beliefs

·       And after seeing how he practically defended Jack from those “mean people” and hearing his explanation why he holds back, it all became proof to him that Jack’s thoughts on Vil wasn’t wrong

·       Vil turns around and hides his tears as he crouches down and puts everything they bought back into their respective bags, grumbling how Jack was still a potato

·       Since that day, there wasn’t a day when the two misses out and not hang with each other

·       Vil tries to get Jack into the beauty world as he works out with Jack in physical and magic training

·       He still teases Jack for the time when Jack wanted to try on lipstick for the first time only to come back looking silly when lipstick was smeared all over his mouth and the area around it while complaining he had a hard time wiping it off

·       Months to years passes as they enjoy each other’s company, encouraging the other to work hard and hold strong to their desires and dreams

·       Despite them staying close, the time they two actually spend with each other dwindles when Jack’s siblings were born

·       Vil doesn’t blame Jack as he hears about how his parents dumped all their work onto him and entrusted him to watch over them, making him busy

·       During those times when Jack wasn’t able to meet up, Vil works harder, trying to make the loneliness he feels in his heart to disappear

·       The list of excuses of “having more time for him to improve in this”, “having more time to do that” continues to grow in his head as he sits in front of his mirror and tries out different make-up products he started to make on himself

·       So, on the day Jack meets him with tears in his eyes, Vil closes his eyes knowing the inevitable came

·       Even though he knew it was going to happen after listening to Jack’s tales, the fact Jack was going to move away to the other side of town still hurt

·       Trying to keep himself composed and strong, Vil tells Jack not to forget everything he taught him when he moves and that he believes that Jack would become a great magician in the future

·       He still keeps it a secret to everyone that on the day Jack left and they gave each other their final good byes with a hug, he cried to himself that night for losing his one and only true friend

·       And as Vil remembers all of this during his OB, he secretly wishes that Jack had stayed by his side longer. Had Jack did, the pain Vil experiences after Jack leaves wouldn’t have hurt as much and cause him to lose his belief of hard work will make anyone’s dream come true

[bluemoon-writer]

Childhood Friends AU: MariKim

Part 2- in which the class discovers the MariKim friendship

You can find Part 1 here

Here is background head canons about their families

-it started in the wake of a disaster

-Francois DuPont is a magnet for crazy shit, to the point that many students are starting to become immune to some of the more mild occurrences

-a giant boulder crashes through the window one day and rolls across the room and out the door, crushing the front row of desks in the process and passing inches from Ms. Bustier

-students scream and jump, more in surprise than actual fear at this point, but back away from the windows (Marinette and Adrien both immediately dash out of the room)

-all except Chloe, who didn’t move a muscle when the boulder flew through the window, and Sabrina lays praise on her like usual

“Wow, Chloe, you’re so brave. You weren’t shocked or scared at all when that boulder flew right past you!”

“Pff, Sabrina, I’m Queen Bee, the only thing that could shock me is if Ladybug turned out to be some weakling like Dupain-Cheng”

-The class is used to ignoring Chloe at this point

-Except Kim is high on adrenaline and doesn’t want to listen to Chloe insult his friend when she isn’t even here to defend herself

-Tells Chloe to shove it

“Marinette is super brave! Remember that traffic akuma from two weeks ago? she ran straight at it so the class could get away. Last week, Marinette literally saved you from the lunch lady you akumatized by throwing a chair at her. And bravest of all, yesterday when I accidently broke one of my mom’s sculptures, Marinette took the blame for me!”

-Chloe is not impressed, “Of course you of all people would come to her defense. If she impresses you so much why don’t you go back to being best friends with her instead of glasses over there?”

-Kim is visibly confused “I…what are you talking about? I never stopped being best friends with Marinette?”

-Chloe is more focused on the dirt that’s on her sweater at this point. She rolls her eyes and drags Sabrina off to the bathroom to makeout clean her sweater

-Alya, who had been getting ready to jump into the argument, is looking more confused than Kim.

“What do you mean you’re best friends with Marinette? Everyone knows that Max is your best friend, and Marinette is mine.”

(Alya is just a bit jealous, because she’s still the ‘new kid’ and while she gets along with the other girls in the class, she’s not super close with them)

-Now Kim is really lost. “Uh, Max isn’t my best friend?”

- :0

“Kim! How could you say that, he’s right there! Max are you okay?”

-Max is also confused. “Yes? Why would I not be? It would be illogical of me to expect Kim to call me his best friend when he is not mine.”

-the classes current mental statues: ??*confusion*???

-Nino is the voice of reason, “Who’s you’re best friend then Max?”

“Markov of course! I spent years programming him, he knows everything about me, and I know everything about him.”

-Markov’s eyes turn into hearts for a moment. “I concur, Max is also my best friend!”

-The class is fucking exhausted, Kim is beaming at Alya

“Wait, but that doesn’t explain how Marinette is your best friend! You never even talk to each other.”

-Nino is subtly trying to get Alya to stop, but when Alya hears something that doesn’t add up she pushes until she learns the truth. It’s great for a journalist, but it lands her in some embarrassing situations sometimes.

-Kim is flabbergasted. The idea of him and Marinette not being bffs is so foreign to him that his brain physically can’t process it. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish trying to figure out where to begin explaining their history

-Alix rolls her eyes and comes to his rescue. “Those two dorks have been tight since before primary school. Be glad they don’t act like best friends, trust me, I went to primary school with them and they almost burned the building down.”

“Hey! That was…Marinette’s fault.”

“What was my fault?”

-Marinette is back, the class was so absorbed in the drama they didn’t even notice ladybug defeating the akuma right outside the window

-Kim is a smug bastard. “Burning down our primary school”

“WHAT! I PREVENTED you from burning the school down. You lit a match in the art FULL OF PAPER MACHE SCULPTURES!”

“Uh-huh, and when you blew the match out you dropped it in the trash, that was full of paper. Which then caught on fire.”

-This argument lasts for several minutes while Ms. Bustier recovers from the shock of almost being flattened by a giant rock

-She decides she needs to medicate with a bottle of vodka, so class is cancelled for the rest of the day

-No one tells Marinette about the argument that happened just before she walked in

-Alya watches as Marinette and Kim walk into the bakery together

-Rose swoons, “That’s so sweet. Do you think they’ll date? It would be so romantic!”

-Juleka nods in agreement, secretly hoping they do so that she can ask them for pointers on how to ask out your best friend

-Nino been knew, so he doesn’t say anything and just asks Alya if she wants to go to the movies

-Adrien got back after Marinette and has no idea what is happening

-Likewise, Ivan was listening to music and didn’t even realize an argument happened.

-Nathaniel is hit with sudden inspiration for his comic and rushes off to write it all down before he forgets

-Max and Alix…don’t care. They already knew and are more surprised by their classmate’s surprise than anything else

-Lila mentally makes Kim her new target

Why the class didn’t realize Mari and Kim are such good friends:

 1. Most of them didn’t go to the same primary school as Mari and Kim. The only people who went to their primary school were Chloe, Nino, and Alix. But even then, Chloe didn’t arrive until the second year of primary school and Nino didn’t transfer until the fourth year. 

Alix was there the first year, but was constantly switching schools when she was younger due to her father traveling for work.She doesn’t come to Francois Dupont until the second year when her father takes a permanent position at the louve so that she can stay at the same school for a while

2.  For the first two years at their Lycee they were in different classes.No one saw them interact much at school. They ate lunch together, but most of the time they went to Marinette’s house for it since it was so close. 

and sure Marinette went to Kim’s games consistently, but no one else did so they had no way of knowing just how often Mari went. And the few times other students went to the games they just assumed Marinette was there for the whole team. Because Mari’s just nice like that.

3. Even when they were in the same class again, they didn’t hang out. This is partly due to the classes’ own perceptions, they already don’t think Mari and Kim are tight, but both are friendly people so they don’t find it strange when they wave at each other or have small conversations before and after class.

Plus they have other friends. The two years in different classes did them some good. They learned that they don’t have to constantly be hanging out.They see each other enough outside of school that they figure they can use their in-class time to hang out with their other friends.

4. The Class is Oblivious. This is almost the same as the previous point, but slightly different. Whether or no Marinette and Kim are friends doesn’t really matter, it wouldn’t change anything in the eyes of their classmates, so no one is bother trying to figure out how close they are. 

They don’t see them interact much so they assume they aren’t close

This is gonna be the last part, but I couldn’t resist that Lila bit, so there’s gonna be a Part 3 ig lol

Also, look out for my upcoming post about Max and Markov’s deep friendship lmfao

[need-a-fugue]

Why Not? - Chapter One

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: Bit of angst, mostly fluff.

Chapter One

It’s late summer when the utterly recognizable Tony Stark first rolls up to the shop, driving in a blindingly white 1953 Corvette convertible… top down, rusty-red leather interior looking warm and lush bathed in the early morning sun. “Supposed to be one of the first off the line,” he tells Bucky, hopping out of the car and slamming the door just hard enough to make him flinch. “That’s what my dad said anyway. Pretty sure he loved the damn thing more than he loved me.”

Bucky’s jaw nearly hits the floor, breath catching in his chest as he steps outside the wide-open garage door to take a look. Drool practically drips from his lips onto the pristine white paint job, his eyes narrowing to slits at the glare off of the stainless trim. It is… perfect. Until he steps around to the passenger’s side and sees the damage. 

“Yeah,” Stark intones casually, not seeming at all embarrassed about the foot-long dent that runs the length of the door. “Minor parallel parking incident. You know how crazy things can get in upper Manhattan during rush hour.”

Bucky’s speechless. And a bit disgusted. And also unbelievably hesitant. “I… we’re not… I mean…” He lets his fingers gingerly press into the body to further inspect the damage, feeling the splintered paint, jagged, naked fiberglass beneath. “We do body work here, but… this is a different kind of beast altogether.”

The man simply stares at him, sunglass-cloaked eyes burrowing into him in an unsettling sort of assessment as his right foot – no doubt wearing a shoe that cost more than Bucky’s entire wardrobe – begins tapping out an impatient rhythm. “My assistant said I should come here. She said you could handle it.” He drops his glasses down just a bit, just enough to be able to peer over the tops of them at the still-reticent mechanic. He steps closer and leans in, reads the nametag standing out in bright white atop his pale blue shirt. “Bucky,” he reads aloud, rolling the name on his tongue. Then, one suspicious brow raised, “Bucky?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, jaw tensing, steeling himself for what’s to come. This wouldn’t be the first time some tool in a three-piece suit came in here and made fun of his name, talked down to him like he was nothing more than, well, some dumb mechanic.

The man’s shoulders draw up, pulling him into a proud stance, and he cocks his head again, this time in the other direction. Bucky feels the rest of his body tense up now too, certain that he’s somehow being… inspected by this stranger. Tony circles him slowly, stopping once he drops into the shade of the building. He takes a step back and leans into the brick façade, pulls his glasses off and wipes them clean with a freaking pocket square. “You married, Bucky?” he asks, staring down at his glasses.

Bucky barely moves, simply quirking a brow in the man’s direction. “Why? You proposing?”

He lets out a bright, high-pitched scoff. “You wish. I could give you everything you ever wanted and then some.”

“Because you have money? Didn’t anyone ever tell you money can’t buy happiness?”

Another scoff, this one deep and throaty and chased out by a dramatic roll of his eyes. “It certainly helps.” Tony’s gaze ticks over to Bucky’s left hand. “No ring,” he muses vaguely.

“Yeah, well, I got it caught in fan belt a few years back. Almost took off my whole damn hand.”

“Ah, so you are married,” he intones, the inflection revealing… is it relief? Or is it disappointment?

“Divorced,” he corrects, still caught up in this strange and sudden stare down. “Mr. Stark,” he tries finally, only to get shut down by a flippant hand waving through the air.

“Look, I got a lot going on today. I really don’t want to have to drive across town to some other garage. So…” He tosses the keys up into the air, landing them perfectly in Bucky’s open palm with a delicate clink. “Just… do what you can.”

He stands – stunned – for a long moment, unsure quite what to do as he watches the man retreat to the street and climb into a waiting limo. The entire interaction takes less than five minutes. Yet it feels… strange, certainly, but also somehow… weighty. Like meeting Tony Stark on this random August day, rolling these unfamiliar keys in his hand as he stands beneath the blaring hot sun means something.

He startles back to reality only once a heavy hand falls to his shoulder, Steve’s voice settling in his ear. “Was that…”

He nods, pulls in a deep and grounding breath – “Are all rich people… nuts?” – and turns to face his friend and business partner.

Steve simply shrugs. “Couldn’t tell ya… you’re the richest guy I know, and that’s just because you haven’t put in your half of the rent yet.”

                                                           000

They see a lot of Tony Stark over the next few weeks. At first, he stops by just to check in on the Vette, making it a point to slink into the garage first thing every morning until the job is finally done. Bucky assumes – once the ridiculously generous check is in his hand and the car is backed out of the shop – that they’ve seen the last of the man. But not two days later, he shows up with a 1932 Ford Roadster – nothing wrong with it, just thought they might like to see. And the following week he brings in his first Ferrari – a gift for his twenty-first birthday – to have the tires rotated.

Each and every time he stops in, Bucky gets the distinct feeling that he’s being somehow scrutinized by the man, dissected… thoroughly sussed out. He’s not quite sure why… perhaps it’s the barrage of – seemingly conversational – personal questions. Or maybe it’s the way he wanders around the garage, touching everything, inspecting everything. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t ask anything of Steve the few times he pops out of the office to say hi, doesn’t interrogate him, nor really interact with him at all, his focus remaining wholly on Bucky.

It’s all very… odd. And unsettling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he lays down three times what the job is worth every time he brings in a car for some sort of unnecessary maintenance, Bucky would tell the man to take his creepy inquisition and hit the bricks.

But they’ve made almost five grand off of him in the last three weeks, and if he tells him to get lost, he’s pretty sure that Steve will castrate him with a zip saw. Truth be told, he’s on the verge of taking that chance, steeling himself to confront the eccentric billionaire when he sees the limo pull up yet again, cursing under his breath for a long moment before stepping outside to open up the garage doors.

Then he sees it, bright and gleaming in the burning hot sun as Stark whips around the corner and flies up into the bay, slamming on the parking brake before hopping out in a single deft move and leaning his hip onto the dark green door, smirk washing over his already rather smug face.

He gives him the basic backstory – upgraded rims and a new top, but otherwise an original… only 8,000 miles… one of just about thirty in existence.

But Bucky couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. And frankly, he doesn’t give a shit what kinds of questions or curious stares he’s about to receive from the grand inquisitor either. Maybe today they’ll get into his failed marriage, or that time he got arrested for assault. Or, hell, he’d even be willing to answer questions about his emo phase freshman year in high school. It’s all on the table. Stark can hang out and badger him all damn day if he wants, just as long as he lets him touch the spectacular specimen before him. He rounds the corner of the counter, certain that his jaw is dragging on the floor – and not giving a damn – and he steps forward towards the absolutely cherry 1965 Shelby Cobra 427. Un-be-livable. This… this is…

“This is a million-dollar car,” Bucky stutters out, his fingers lingering hesitantly over the hood, too nervous to even let them graze the body.

“More like 1.8 million,” he corrects with a shrug. “Could use a tune up.”

“A tune up? Are you crazy? Listen, there are people,” he starts, halting suddenly when a loud thump – followed quickly by a high-pitched squeal of laughter – sounds from the office in back. His head spins so fast, his neck cracks with the movement. But he quickly settles upon seeing Steve pop up into view on the other side of the plate glass window only to shoot him a swift thumbs up. Bucky shakes his head distractedly and turns back to Tony. “There are people way better equipped to handle this than me.”

Tony issues out a short psh, waving a dismissive hand through the air as he impatiently shifts from foot to foot. “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.”

“I don’t know why,” he says with a snort, sneaking another lingering, sidelong glance at the car. He clears his throat harshly and turns back to Tony. “Mr. Stark, I don’t know that this shop even has enough insurance coverage to allow me to work on this car.”

“I could’ve sworn I told you to call me Tony,” he says, beginning his all-too-common practice of milling about the garage, absently touching things, picking up tools only to immediately drop them back into place. “Anyway,” he mutters, holding up a torque wrench and glaring at it as though the tool had personally insulted him. He throws it back onto the counter with a huff and faces Bucky once again. “I thought you were the owner,” he hisses out, words full of pure incredulity. “You and…” he waves a hand back at the blond man still lurking in the office. “Mr. Perfect back there.”

A look of utter bewilderment rolls across his face. “Well, yeah… but…”

“But nothing. Half the reason I own so many businesses,” he pauses for a beat, pursing his lips and looking down at the dark green beauty in front of him, “and things, is because I like doing what I like doing.” His eyes ping back up to meet Bucky’s, holding them tight in a sincere stare. “What do you like, Bucky?”

Silence. He says nothing, merely stares blankly at the man before him.

Tony rolls his eyes. “You like fixing million-dollar cars?”

Bucky shrugs. “Never really done it. That’s kind of my point.”

His deep brown eyes narrow suspiciously, head cocking to the side just the slightest bit. Then he drops a firm hand to Bucky’s shoulder and chuckles. “Nah, you like it.” He tosses him the keys – a very clear end of conversation – and turns to leave, his unofficial driver waiting out front in the limo. “Anyway, it’s… sticking a bit,” he says, waving his hand carelessly through the air as he walks backwards toward the garage door. “Just… take a look. And… I want you to know, I’m trusting you with something very important here. Don’t screw it up.” And with that, he turns and leaves.

Bucky stands painfully still, wide-eyed stare directed out the door long after Tony’s already begun his retreat back to his side of the city.

“Is that…?”

He spins on a heel, finding Steve bent over the Cobra, delicately grazing his fingers atop the windshield in much the same way Bucky had cautiously – reverently – done just moments ago. “Yeah,” he answers, not needing to hear the rest of the question, those words lost in the same stunned fog he feels himself still wading through.

“This isn’t a replica,” Steve hisses out, eyes blowing wide as he tosses a glance Bucky’s way. He’s met with a slow headshake, a rather disbelieving confirmation. “This is… it’s original?” A simple, slow nod. “Semi-Competition? This…” He straightens, pulling his shoulders back as he stands upright, letting out a long, low whistle. “I know everybody says he’s… eccentric. But…” He raises a brow, wide, crooked smile rolling over his features. “He’s really gonna trust you with this?”

Bucky reaches up and scratches at the back of his head, a rather confounded expression creeping over his face. “Seems like.”

The two men continue to stand, silently staring at the little convertible in front of them. A masterpiece. A legend. The wet dream of any car enthusiast. It’s amazing. Glorious. Perfect. And…

“No!” Bucky shouts, the sudden bellow pulling deep from his chest as he lunges forward just in time to stop the tiny, sticky, chocolate-covered tornado racing towards the work of art. Steve hops back as Bucky grabs the little girl, narrowly avoiding a tiny foot to the groin, when he swings her round and hauls her up into his arms. He spins her in his grip so that she’s facing him – wide-eyed smile and fat cheeks alight as raucous giggles spill out of her – and he raises a serious, commanding brow. “Do. Not. Touch.”

He adjusts the tyke on his hip, settling her into the crook of his left arm as he pulls a cloth from his pocket and begins roughly wiping at the melted streaks of chocolate on her face. She wiggles in his grip and pushes against his chest with a whiny groan, leaning away to see the car that Uncle Steve is so fondly caressing. “Pretty,” she croons, spitting messily around the cloth as he continues to drag it across her chin and lips.

“No more long johns for breakfast,” he declares, shifting to try and juggle her wiggly form with the rag so he can get at her hands.

“What’s a donut without chocolate icing?” Steve asks lightly, finally stepping over to help. He plucks a clean rag from the countertop and finishes wiping her down. “You are a mess.”

Bucky gives her a little bounce and looks at Steve with an almost chiding glare. “Yeah, well, you are a shitty babysitter.”

“Says the guy who just cursed in front of a four year old,” he counters with a smug smirk.

Bucky’s face hardens and sets into a scowl. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m her father. Different standard.”

“Shitty!” the little girl sings out gleefully, following it up with a wide-eyed, “Uh-oh,” upon seeing Bucky’s stare, his single, reprimanding brow raised high.

He shifts her to his other side, pulling away from Steve and sidestepping him to move over to the front of the Cobra. The austere set to his features quickly fades as dark curls bounce in his periphery and small hands clamp together behind his neck.

“What d’ya say, baby? Should we pop the hood?” he croons to the little girl in his grip, giving her a few swift bounces until her face splits with delight. “Yeah,” he mutters, swiping his fingers lazily over the front end of the car. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

[jiminisjamin]

No Boys Allowed

 Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

AU: Tangled + College AU

Rating: Fluff + Bits of Crack

Warnings for Chapter: Minor language, minor sexual content.

Title: I See The Lights

Word Count: 3,910

  It really wasn’t that far of a walk, but with Jeongguk teasing y/n and pestering her with questions the whole time, never missing the chance to slip in an invitation to be shown some ‘real fun’, which seemed like more teasing than an actual invitation at this point, it felt like the longest twenty minutes of her life. She breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached the ticket booth and quickly paid for two tickets, not even listening to Jeongguk’s ramble about how the rides were always so fun- and something about a giant stuffed bear. She shoves her change into her hoodie pocket and moves forward, ducking her head when Jeongguk’s arm suddenly lands around her shoulders, tugging her roughly to his side.

“We’re going to dominate this.” His eyes sparkle, reflecting all the lights strewn up everywhere, his face lighting up in a genuine, pure smile for a few seconds before his gaze turns back to y/n, the smile fading from his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” she mutters, “you just didn’t look like a total douche. You looked like a decent guy for a second.”

“You don’t even know me,” Jeongguk mutters, “you say I’m a douche, but you’re the only one whose been rude so far.”

“You broke into my dorm.” Y/n hisses.

“The window was wide open!” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “how many times do I have to say it? If you tried to charge me with breaking and entering it wouldn’t hold up- I didn’t break and enter, I just entered.” Before y/n can fight back, Jeongguk makes a strange sound and tugs her quickly over to a line, causing her to yelp. “This is gonna be so fun,” he mutters, bouncing slightly when they get in line for the first rollercoaster.

“Uh…” Y/n’s stomach turns slightly and she stiffens against his side. “Are we really starting with this one?” Jeongguk grins, dipping his head so his lips hover by her ear.

“Why, princess? Want me to ease you into it?” His other hand creeps up to her cheek as he nuzzles her neck slightly. Y/n scoffs and pulls away from him, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not that big.” She glares at him, raising her eyebrows, “unlike your ego, apparently.”

“Really? That’s the insult you went for?” He laughs and shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I guess even you know that I don’t have a small-”

“The line’s moving fo- oh my god don’t say that.��� She slaps him lightly, her cheeks heating up as she shuffles in front of him, turning her gaze to the floor. “You can’t say things like that, there’s kids around…and I don’t want to hear it, anyways.” Jeongguk grins cheekily, rolling his eyes.

“Sure, sure.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before Jeongguk sighs, pulling his hands out and grabbing her waist, gently tugging her to stand in front of him and wrapping his arms around her, shoving his hands into her hoodie pockets and finding her hands, holding them in his own as he rests his chin on her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Y/n’s question comes out louder than she means it too, her cheeks heating up instantly from the close proximity.

“It’s cold,” Jeongguk mumbles, “you’re kind of warm. I’m kind of warm. Together we’re completely warm.” Y/n scoffs.

“That sounded really stupid. I hope you know that.” Jeongguk frowns, shaking his head and pulling away from her.

“You’re no fun.” Y/n’s heart drops slightly and she looks down, shivering involuntarily from the sudden coldness that creeps up her spine. “See,” Jeongguk grins, “I was right. You’re cold, aren’t you?” Y/n doesn’t meet his gaze and his grin widens as he holds his arms out, “just come here, you don’t even have to say anything.” Y/n scoffs, raising her eyes to his.

“I’m not cold.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes a few steps forward as the line continues to move. “And even if I was I wouldn’t want you keeping me warm.” Jeongguk hums, walking up to stand beside her.

“Is there someone you would want to keep you…uh, warm.” Y/n’s cheeks heat up slightly and she shakes her head.

“No.”

“Really? There’s no one?” Y/n shrugs again.

“I’m focused on school. I don’t really have time to think about…stuff like that.” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow and he looks down at the ground for a few seconds.

“I mean, you can focus on school and still have fun.” He turns his gaze up to the sky, his eyes reflecting the soft lights that surround them. “It must be lonely.” His voice seems to get deeper as he looks back at her, “studying by yourself all the time, not going to parties…I’d get lonely.” His arm creeps back around her waist as he pulls her closer to him, his head slowly dipping closer and closer to her. “Do you get lonely, y/n?” Her heart beats erratically in her chest as her gaze locks onto his. His gaze quickly drops, settling on her lips for a moment before raising back to hers, a small smile on his face.

“No,” she whispers, “I- I’m fine, I don’t get lonely.” Jeongguk’s head tilts, and when his eyes tear away from hers, its like a spell is broken and he pulls away suddenly, clearing his throat and running his hand through his hair.

She expects him to mutter some sort of joke, a pick-up line, something, but instead he stands silently next to her, his gaze fixed on the line ahead of them.

“Uh…” Y/n frowns, looking down at the ground. “I mean, of course I get lonely sometimes,” his gaze snaps back to hers, something flickering in his eyes as his head tilts. “No- I mean, I get lonely, like…companionship, not…” Y/n motions wildly with her hand, “you know.” Jeongguk’s eyes light up and he grins as he nods.

“Ah, you’re not lonely and horny, just lonely?” Y/n almost chokes at his statement, shrinking in on herself slightly as she blushes.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Her voice comes out a whine. She frowns slightly, playing with her hoodie strings as they walk forward. “I don’t want to go to parties and stuff like that, not right now, at least. I like…one on one interaction a bit more, you know?”

Jeongguk hums and nods his head, “more intimate.” Y/n’s heart swells in her chest slightly as she smiles, but her hope that he understood is quickly distinguished when he says, “if you would’ve told me that before I could’ve just stayed with you in your room.” She scoffs, slapping his arm.

“Like I’d be intimate with you.” He frowns slightly.

“Are we talking about fucking or…platonic intimacy?” Jeongguk asks, his eyebrows briefly raising as he grins at her.

Y/n stumbles slightly, a blush covering her cheeks. “What were you talking about?” She stammers, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the slowly shrinking line in front of them.

“I thought you were talking about one on one interaction between friends, like what we’re doing right now.”

“We aren’t friends,” the words rush past her lips before she can stop them and she clamps her mouth shut when he gives her a slightly dejected look, shrugging before turning his gaze back to the ride in front of them.

“Fair enough,” his voice is tight as he shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets. “What were you talking about then, hm?” Her chest tightens slightly as she watches him, the hurt expression quickly fading as he smirks lightly, turning his gaze back to her. “Never mind if you’re too embarrassed to answer,” he sighs, “we should be getting on now anyways.” Y/n clams up slightly, looking at the roller coaster with a frown on her face when she notices how close the seats seem to each other. She shivers slightly, following him to the front and taking a seat next to him, her heart skipping in her chest as she realizes how big the rollercoaster actually is.

Jeongguk pulls the bar down that secures both of them into the seats and y/n wiggles slightly, twisting her head around to find a worker. “I…I want off,” she murmurs, “I want off, I don’t want to ride this anymore.”

“Hm?” Jeongguk turns his head to watch her, his lips parting slightly when her face twists.

“I want off, this doesn’t seem safe, it’s just…a tiny metal bar, and all th- this is like, what, how many feet? How fast does it go?”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Jeongguk reaches over to her and grabs her hand. “It’s okay, y’know? These things are like…built for this. I’m sure whoever made it knew what they were doing, right?” Y/n turns her gaze to him, before nodding timidly. Before Jeongguk can pull his hand away she grabs it, her gaze turning away as she shakes slightly, her heart only calming down when he squeezes her hand comfortingly.

The ride starts before either of them can say anything else and y/n jumps slightly, squeezing his hand in shock and gripping onto the metal bar tightly with her other hand. It doesn’t seem to take long for the carts to be at the top of the steep hill, causing her heart to pound in her chest as it pauses, hanging just over the edge, forcing their gazes down at the drop in front of them.

“Jeongguk,” Y/n’s voice is loud- much louder than it needs to be, and he looks over at her. “I’m scared,” she looks over at him, her eyes wide. “When is it gonna-” before her sentence can finish, they plummet towards the ground, a loud scream ripping from her throat as she thrashes in her seat slightly, burying her face in his neck despite the uncomfortable angle and clinging onto his arm. He seems to tense under her, his muscles becoming more prominent as he grips the metal bar, his gaze nervously falling to her as the ride whips to the left, throwing her body closer to him due to the bench-like seating. Y/n lets go of the bar briefly to throw her other arm around her and Jeongguk pauses, debating telling her that there’s no way this is proper seating- maybe even bordering on dangerous- but her heart beats wildly against her chest, and he relaxes slightly.

Jeongguk can feel her heartbeat- his body warms slightly where she holds onto him, his neck tingling when her breath fans out across it before she nestles her face deeper into the crook of his neck, as if to hide from the ride. His lips tip up in a small smile. “Y/n, look,” he nudges her slightly.

“No!”

“Y/n, please- just look.” She tentatively moves her face away from his neck, turning her gaze to the lights that whiz around them as they speed through the air. “Look at the lights,” he turns his gaze to her, smiling lightly. “aren’t they pretty?” His words are followed by the sudden stopping of the ride as it slows down, rolling carefully back to the starting point.

Her heart slowing down as she sees the people waiting in line and realizes they are safe on the ground once again. She practically jumps away from Jeongguk, coughing slightly as she looks away. “Uh…sorry…about that.” He grins slightly.

“I should get you scared more often, if that’s all it takes,” his voice is teasing and she can feel his gaze on her as she blushes, forcing her gaze to stay off of him.

“God, why do you have to ruin every nice moment?” Jeongguk grins, leaning back and holding his hands up as the metal bar raises. He stands up, grabbing y/n’s hand as he does, pulling her along with him.

“I’m not ruining the moment, I’m just saying…that was nice.” Y/n frowns as she watches him carefully and he smiles, tugging her lightly. “Come on, you’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Y/n’s breath hitches as he heads over to the Ferris Wheel, “if you get afraid…don’t hesitate to hold onto me.” His tone is light as he grins, glancing down at her and nodding towards the small line. “You up for it?” Y/n nods, sighing slightly when he drags her through the line, climbing into the cart and shutting the door after them. He rubs his hands together as the ride starts up and smiles, turning to her and raising his eyebrows, giving her a thumbs up. She can’t fight off her grin as she gives him a thumbs up too, rolling her eyes slightly. Jeongguk pulls his phone out, pointing it at her and laughing slightly. “So, are you having fun, y/n?”

“Are you recording me?” Y/n asks, groaning and covering her face. Jeongguk smiles, reaching out with his free hand and grabbing her wrist, pulling her hand away.

“Answer my question, or forever be labeled as boring.” Y/n rolls her eyes. Jeongguk frowns slightly, tilting his head as his grin widens. “Answer my question…and I’ll give you a kiss.” Y/n scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Why would I want that?” She tilts her head and Jeongguk grins, dropping his hand to rest on her thigh as he lowers his camera.

“I’ve been told I’m a good kisser.” Y/n’s heart hammers in her chest as the Ferris Wheel comes to a stop at the very top and she looks out at the fair, tapping his shoulder and grinning.

“Look, look! You should record that, it’s really pretty.” Jeongguk raises his phone to briefly record the lights before turning it back to her, smiling.

“I think you’re prettier.” Y/n blushes and looks away, biting her lip and cursing at the way her heart hammers in her chest.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, scooting closer to y/n, lowering the phone again placing his hand on her face, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in question. Y/n swallows roughly and frowns, her eyes scanning his face.

“I’m…I’m not stupid, I know what you’re doing.” He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head.

“Trying to have fun?” Jeongguk smiles, leaning closer to her. His hand reaches out and he brushes his thumb across her cheek. “You don’t need to look scared, princess.” Y/n frowns slightly, pointing at his phone. Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes, grabbing the phone and stopping the recording. “Hey…” Jeongguk frowns slightly. “I wasn’t…it wasn’t like that.” Y/n frowns at him and he scoots closer, his motion causing the cart to rock gently.

“Jeongguk!” Y/n curses and grabs his arm as he reaches forward, caging her in the corner with his body, his face leaning inches from hers.

“Yes?” Y/n stutters, her eyes widening as the ride starts to move again and her grip on him tightens as the cart continues to rock.

“Jeongguk, you’re making it move,” his gaze darts up to meet hers and he grins, moving slow enough to give her a chance to back out. When she doesn’t move, Jeongguk brushes his lips against hers gently, gauging her reaction before continuing any further. Y/n’s eyes close and she sighs quietly, and Jeongguk smiles softly before his eyes flutter shut as his other hand falls to her waist, tugging lightly at the fabric of her shirt as he tilts his head and properly kisses her. Y/n relaxes when he lets go of the edge of the seat, opting to wrap that arm around her as well and pull her closer. She doesn’t even notices the slight rocking of their cart as it moves through the air, the feel of his arms around her negating any worries she had.

He’s surprisingly gentle for how forward he’d been- nothing like y/n was expecting him to be as he slowly trailed away from her mouth, peppering light kisses down her jaw to her neck. Her eyes open and a quiet gasp falls past her lips when he nips her skin lightly, his hand on her waist somehow shifted under her hoodie, resting against her skin and warming it.

“J-Jeongguk,” he hums in response, his lips leaving her neck with a slight pop, kissing her jaw again before returning his lips to hers briefly. He stops then, opening his eyes and leaning his forehead against hers, peering at her.

“I’ve got you, princess. It’s okay.” He tilts his head, kissing her temple before pulling her to him, holding her close to his side for the rest of the ride, watching her face light up as she watches the scenery around them.

When they get off the Ferris Wheel Jeongguk takes her hand in his and pulls her over to a rather tacky- and seemingly rigged- game, grinning as he pulls out his wallet.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t have any money.” Y/n’s voice comes out as a pout and he grins, waving his wallet slightly.

“That may have been a small fib- I’ll pay you back, princess, don’t worry.” He steps forward, handing the worker a five dollar bill before beginning to throw darts at the balloons, somehow managing to hit every single dart he throws into an un-popped balloon. Y/n’s jaw goes slack and he grins proudly before turning to look at her.

“How did you…”

“Oh, princess, I can do anything-” he shakes his dark hair out of his eyes, quirking one eyebrow as he winks, his grin widening for a second, “I’m Jeongguk.” He moves forward, talking with the worker for a second before nodding and handing him another five.

“W-what are you doing?” Y/n tugs on his sleeve and he glances over at her and grins, motioning towards a giant, creamy tan colored teddy bear in the prize section. It was almost as big as Jeongguk, surprisingly big and good quality for a carnival prize. It had a little blue bow nestled against its ear. Y/n smiles slightly at his goofy grin, and then he grabs the darts.

“I’m gonna win that for you,” he mumbles, his cheeks briefly flushing before he turns his focus onto the balloons. True to his word, Jeongguk knocks out 5 more balloons, and the guy grins, ringing a bell that hangs from the tent’s ceiling before retrieving the bear and handing it to Jeongguk. Jeongguk grins at the man, giving a slight nod at him and a, “thank you,” before he turns to y/n, tilting his head at her and pulling the same face he did only moments before, omitting the wink and instead holding the quirked eyebrow and grin in place for a few moment before bursting out into a giddy laugh, holding the bear out for her.

Y/n takes it from him, grinning as she feels the soft fur. “Thank you, Jeongguk…” He grins, wrapping his arms around her as they wander around, every once in a while, he stops to press a kiss to her neck.

To Y/n’s surprise the walk back seems to take a lot longer and she stands outside her window, looking down as she shifts slightly. “So…” Jeongguk grins, holding his hands out and taking the bear, without warning catapulting it through her still open window.

“H-hey!” He grins at her, shrugging and waving his hand.

“If you’re really wanting to get the experience of sneaking out?” He moves forward and she backs up against the wall, blushing when his face moves right in front of hers. “You have to sneak back in. Now come here, I’m gonna give you a boost- make sure you get up there and can get in.” Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t have time to protest what he’s doing, because a second after he says that, he’s lifting her up, and she’s scrambling to grab the ledge as he boosts her as high as he can.

Y/n gets through the window after some struggling. She looks fondly at the bear- which somehow managed to land on her bed, and moves forward, jumping slightly when she hears a thud and grunt, whipping around to see Jeongguk spilled out on her floor, his lips pulled up into a slight grimace as he rubs his back, pushing himself to stand up.

“What are you doing?” She asks cautiously, watching as he tilts his head, mirroring her shocked expression as he steps forward.

“What do you mean?” His tone is light and teasing as he wraps his arms around her waist, tugging her against his chest. His expression shifts almost immediately as he dips his head down. “Is this okay?” He whispers, causing chills to run up her spine as she nods. Jeongguk smiles, moving forward and plopping down onto the bed, pulling her with him. “You sure warm up fast for someone who seemed so cold,” he muses, his hand travelling up her back as he grins, watching her expression change to a pinker hue. Y/n huffs, her eyes narrowing as she rolls away from him, onto her back.

“Oh, shut up.” He grins, flipping onto his side and leaning over her as he tilts his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

“I’ve seen the real you now, y/n. You can’t trick me with that…cute little face.” He taps her nose, lowering himself over her just enough to place a quick kiss on her lips. “But, I also know not to overstay my welcome.” He pushes off, walking over to her desk and grabbing one of her notebooks, scribbling something in it quickly before turning over to her. “I’ll be on my way now, princess.”

She watches as he lowers himself out the window, calling out at the last minute before she runs over to it, grinning happily when his head pops back up, his arms straining to pull himself back up.

“Yes, princess?” Y/n’s face is slightly flushed and she bites her lip, shivering slightly.

“I…just, don’t ruin this, please?” Jeongguk tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I…” She frowns slightly, looking away. “I’m not used to stuff like this- obviously- so please…” Jeongguk’s lips quirk up into a small smile.

“I’d never hurt you, princess. Check your notebook, I think something important might be there. Sadly, I have to go…” His gaze darkens for a second as he grins at her. “Unless you’d rather I stay?”

“O- uh, no, I’m good with uh…yeah…” She coughs, rolling her eyes when he lets out a hearty laugh, calling out one last parting before he drops out of view. She leans out the window, watching him sprint off, running away from her building. She shakes her head, shuts her window- being sure to lock it- before slowly walking over to her desk and reading what’s written.

I had a great time with you, Princess. I’m glad you let me in- I hope you’ll let me stay for a while. I still have a lot I want to teach you, experience with you. Today, we saw the lights together. What do you feel like doing tomorrow? Let me know, xoxo (forget I wrote that) here’s my number.

She grins, grabbing her phone almost immediately before typing in his contact, quickly typing out a message asking what kind of things he’d like to show her, not letting herself think too much about it before hitting send. Y/n collapses onto her bed, squealing softly and pulling the bear to her, stroking its fur as she watches her phone screen. It seems like an hour passes before she gets a response:

How do you feel about surprises?