#they sit up straight and focus intently on the musical for the next ten minutes

[redjayson]

Okay so in Batman Beyond there's an episode where Bruce and Terry go see a 'Batman Musical', just imagine that goes on in Gotham and Jason finds out and asks(forces/tricks) the batfam to go.

i’m finally answering this! i had a really rough week, which is why this took a while, but i kept thinking about this prompt and laughing, so thank you for that.

and on that note: are you serious, that’s amazing. i vaguely remember watching batman beyond but i don’t actually remember all that much about it. i’ll need to look this up.

but yes. yes. i want this to be a Thing.

i want to imagine it as something between holy musical b@man! and the ember island players. like. just picture the kind of crazy misinformed shit that these people are tossing into the mix because what’s the truth and what’s the lie, no one knows, they’re going to make a musical about batman and his however many kids/sidekicks anyway

(they people putting on this play are probably college students)

(stephanie has probably dropped by to help with set designs and laughed herself sick in the process)

getting back on track, how does jason find out about it?

there are two ways i think it could happen. one: jason loves lit. we know this. he collected first editions with alfred and bruce when he was a kid. in my personal experience, if you like lit, you almost definitely like theater in some sense as well. at the very least you’ve read plays. 

jason holds his goddamn red hood helmet like he’s hamlet and it’s yorick.

trust me, he likes plays.

so maybe he pays attention to the kinds of plays that are being shown around gotham. he likes going to some of the matinee performances on saturday and sunday afternoons – he can’t go in the evening because he has to patrol. sometimes alfred goes with him. it’s…nice. and yeah, going to performances means that sometimes he goes to the gotham university performances as well. they actually have pretty good ones. a couple years ago they put on the importance of being earnest and then twelfth night the next semester. he was too busy when they were putting on godspell and west side story to be able to go see them, which he’s still disappointed about.

anyway. it’s not like whoever’s putting on this ridiculous play is keeping secret about the fact that they’re making it about batman and co. 

(i’ve made up my mind: it’s definitely the university kids that are putting it on. they’re the team starkid of gotham city. i bet a bunch of them said, “hey, we should do this, and also i bet it could count as our senior thesis” and they all went along with it and now they can’t turn back. they don’t want to turn back. this is going to amazing or they’re going to be arrested by batman, but god, what a way to go.)

so jason finds out, and, like steph, he busts a gut laughing about it before deciding that this is awesome and he’s definitely going to bully the rest of the family into seeing it with him. every time he thinks about bruce’s face he just starts laughing all over again. oh man. it’s going to be amazing. 

the other way that jason finds out, though: 

campus isn’t his usual haunt, but he’s been following some jackass with a connection to one of his open cases. spoiler has too much homework to help him, but she’s already given him the go-ahead to work on campus, which is nominally her space to patrol/operate in. 

and this dude – it doesn’t really matter what he did. he’s connected to drugs or he’s friends with the wrong person or he’s done something else. jason’s going to get everything he needs from the guy and then drop him off at the precinct. with a bullet to the leg if he really annoys jason. 

the thing is, the dude’s a member of the make-up crew for the batman musical. they’re doing dress rehearsals tonight. jason’s in full armor because he just wants to get this done and get back to his regular patrol routes as soon as possible. (like the rest of gotham, the campus is easy to grapple around. jason doesn’t have to touch the ground and shadows his target from the rooftops.)

the guy goes into the theater building. jason needs to make sure that he’s not meeting with anyone before jason grabs him. that’s why he didn’t take him out during any of the time that it took for the guy to cross campus to the theater building. meeting at the theater would be a good cover; there’s so much happening when rehearsing, so many people coming in and out, in all sorts of costumes and make up – if you needed to meet someone clandestinely, there are worse places that civilians have thought were secret. 

jason slides through a window, makes his way up into the balcony seats so he can spy (gotham university has a very nice theater. in the past, the waynes have donated generously to it), and –

“oh my god,” jason says, staring at the stage. 

he ducks down so that none of the actors can see him if they look up from their acting and past the lights to the balcony. jason tries to keep his laughter quiet, but it’s so fucking funny.

when he’s finally regained control of himself, he decides to just go for it. he feels a little bad about interrupting their rehearsal, but hey. gotham is all about unexpected surprises, and really, what else were they expecting when they decided to make a play about batman?

“can anyone point me to where brad merritt is?” jason calls as he strolls into the auditorium. his shit-eating grin is hidden beneath the helmet.

the actors all grind to a sudden stop. 

“um,” says an actor who’s probably meant to be the replacement. he looks at actor-nightwing. actor-nightwing turns to actor-batman. 

“he’s in the back with the rest of the make-up crew,” actor-batman says. 

“cool,” jason says, hopping up onto the stage and walking past them. he shoots them friendly finger guns. “you’ll need to replace him. he’s going to be in jail opening week.”

behind the stage, jason catches a glimpse of brad before he takes in red hood stalking towards him and bolts. 

“you get the assholes on campus next time, spoiler,” jason grumbles, and then he’s taking off after his target. 

so jason knows and he is all about that. he is going to see that shit opening night. he’s so damn ready. 

“stephanie,” he complains, sprawled out on her couch and finishing off the leftover lo mein that was in her fridge. “why didn’t you tell me what the university kids were doing?”

“what university kids?” steph asks, head still bent over her chemistry textbook. 

“the theater kids,” jason says. “the batman play.”

stephanie looks up, already laughing. “i know, right?” she says. “i’ve been helping out with some of the sets in my spare time and i’ve heard bits of it and it’s going to be a thing of wonder.” she grins. “they’ve even got spoiler in it!”

“hell yeah,” jason says, getting up to throw away the lo mein carton and high-fiving steph as he passes. he sits next to her at the table. “you think we can convince the rest of the family to go?”

“i can get cass and tim,” steph says. 

“i can definitely get alfred,” jason says. “probably also dick.”

they look at each other. 

“he’s your dad,” steph says. 

“he’s not my–” jason starts, then shakes his head. “goddammit. fine. if i get bruce to go, he’ll make damian go, as a…family bonding thing or something. two for one.”

“awesome,” steph says. “i didn’t want to try to convince the little hellion to go, anyway.”

“you’re in charge of babs,” jason says. 

“sure,” steph says. 

they fall into an easy silence. steph turns back to her chemistry work. 

“you did that last problem wrong,” jason says, craning his head to look at her work.

steph throws her pencil at his head. 

it takes two bribes, a guilt trip, and five minutes for dick to stop laughing (which jason will tolerate, because he did the exact same thing), but the entire wayne family, stephanie brown, and barbara gordon show up to the gotham university theater the opening night of The Batman Musical. 

the actual name of the musical is something else, but to their family, it’s just The Batman Musical.

jason’s still horrendously disappointed he didn’t get to surprise bruce with the news of there being a play about their family. he was treasuring the idea of what bruce’s face was going to do.

“i pay attention to the theater scene, jason,” bruce said when jason brought it up. “as does alfred.”

yes, jason knew. 

“and i pay attention to anything to do with batman,” bruce added. in case they get anywhere too close to the truth, he didn’t say out loud, but jason could hear the subtext just fine. paranoia, thy name is bat. 

“but you’ll go see it with us, right?” jason asked. 

bruce turned back to his computer.

cue the guilt trip and bruce’s eventual acquiescence. if jason didn’t get to see bruce’s face at the whole idea of it, then at the very least he was going to make absolutely sure that bruce would be at the performance. 

damian’s look of disgust at the whole idea of it nearly made up for the disappointment with bruce, anyway. 

they show their tickets at the door and are shown to their seats. they take up a good portion of an entire row. jason makes sure to place himself between steph and alfred. there’s a brief scuffle when tim almost ends up sitting next to damian, before bruce sighs, pushes them apart, and sits between the two of them. cass leans her head against steph’s shoulder, half-asleep; she’d had a long night, apparently. barbara catches jason’s eye and looks reluctantly amused at this whole thing. dick is flipping through the playbill on damian’s other side and laughing very, very quietly. 

the musical starts and it is, indeed, a thing of wonder. 

highlights of the play, since i’m not going to actually figure out what the plot of it would be:

batman dealing with villains and every so often just picking up a child and handing them a domino mask. congratulations you are now my vigilante sidekick. 

in the audience, in reaction to one scene in the play jason and stephanie say, perfectly in sync: “did robin just die?”

cass, her head still leaning against steph’s shoulder: “you know...it was really unclear.”

jason and stephanie burst into raucous laughter

people don’t know much about about oracle, but she’s been active for a while, and some information must have spread. still. the general public has no idea what oracle looks like or what gender they are, so i present to you that the role of oracle in The Batman Musical is played by someone who wanders around in a bright green morphsuit and occasionally disseminates information when the batfam needs it

so many wonderful songs. jason and stephanie are already making plans to ask if the university is going to put out an album afterwards. if not, they’re pretty sure that they can convince dick and/or bruce to let them help fund one

damian is So Offended at first, but he gradually gets into it, because there’s some poking fun at batman and the idea of vigilantes in general, etc., but at the core of it the love that gotham feels for batman and his family really seeps through.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Legolas x elven reader

Summary: At long last you have finally admitted your innermost feelings for the Woodland Prince to your dear friend Aragorn, at the same time he has learned of the feelings Legolas has kept for you. Now you and Legolas have a chance to express how you both truly feel for one another.

Part 1 is here

-Requested by @sokkasdarling​

Gandalf had called for everyone to continue onward, just as a tiny rock rickashayed off the side of your head, you snapped your attention down to the right. Where Pippin stood, looking down and desperately trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. You heard a deep and hearty laugh from farther on the rocks, raising your sights in that direction you found Aragorn doing a terrible job at holding in his amusement. You raised an eyebrow to him as you caught the sight of a smiling Legolas, “Yes hilarious.” You deadpanned with a roll of your elfish eyes, in good humor of course. You turned to Pippin who was quickly finding his courage again as he confidently looked upon your annoyed face. You flashed him a friendly smile before silently clenching your fist and shaking it at him in a mock bit of anger. He just stuck his tongue out at you before skipping over to Merry and Sam like the little bastard he is. 

The ten of you had made your way down the other side of the rocky hill without much indecent to be concerned of, past a small stream for a water break, near to a small herd of deer, and now you all travel through open grass fields with the occasional large bush as you pass by. During all this time it had occurred to you in your keen observations that the silver haired prince seemed more jubilant then usual. He appeared to hold himself with a confident and tireless stride as he walked ahead of you and half of the Fellowship.

 His blue eyes would linger on you when everyone took that five minute break at the stream, and since his talk with Aragorn earlier his whole being seemed to change ever so slightly. You could not place why, could he know something you don’t? Did Aragorn tell him about your feelings for him? Now since you’ve pondered over the idea it does seem very plausible considering they both spoke together not even three hours ago. If only you hadn’t been distracted by those pesky hobbits would you have been able to listen in on their conversation. 

Letting out an unbothered huff of air you keep moving through the grass as Merry and Pippin trail behind you, then Boromir, Sam leading Bill the pony, and finally at the rear Aragorn. You can tell how exhausted the hobbits are becoming since most of the day was trudging uphill for hours on end, if you were human you’d without a doubt be just as tired. Luckily you are not, and this whole day has been mostly a breeze, with the exception that you have great suspicions about Legolas and what Aragorn had told him. 

Alas the sun begins its slow decent upon the wilds of the land, alerting Gandalf to pick a place among the grass and bushes before the hastily approaching night swallows you whole. Soon a fire is made and food is divided around for everyone to have a share, you stare up at the stars as Gimli tells an elaborate story about the first time that he killed an orc. You sit comfortably on a bedroll in between Frodo and Pippin who are listening intently with wide eyes. Across the fire sits Legolas, who shares a knowing look with you as everyone listens to Gimli who’s most certainly exaggerating his story. 

Legolas gives you a fond smile and for the first time do you both stop to share a comfortable moment together. It feels like the world has evaded you and no sounds are to be heard, all your focus and means of care are on the prince who stares back at you with those big beautiful eyes of his. It’s truly entrancing until Gimli breaks your moment, “Ey lass, a good orc is a dead one huh.” You suddenly turn to him, caught of guard by his random question that you only heard the last part to.

“Oh uh, yes. Same goes for goblins or trolls.” You first turn to Pippin then Frodo, “Very valuable information.”

Gimli lets out a laugh of approval at your quick wit as he dives back into the story once again. Though you are surrounded by friends and safety for the time being, your heart cannot stop from fluttering with nervousness even now, Legolas is doing things to you and he doesn’t even know it. After what felt like hours of story telling does the Fellowship settle down for the night. The fire dissipates to low burning embers as your companions place themselves around it.

 You cannot catch sleep if you tried so instead do you take the first nights watch, covering Frodo and Pippin with your extra blanket do you stand up to walk a bit away from your sleeping friends. The night sky is decorated with thousands of glimmering stars as a crescent moon stares down back at you with a pleasing smile. A comforting gentle breeze brushes past your face, sending your cloak in rhythmic flaps against your body. You close your eyes and listen to the sounds of the grass as it sways in the wind, your friends soft breathing, the flick of Bills tail, and the familiar sound of Legolas’ light footsteps in the grass. 

A smile forms onto your lips as he slowly approaches you, “Come to join me on watch?” You ask, opening your eyes once again to find the woodland prince to your left, he turns to you with a warm smile upon his dashing features.

“I thought you would enjoy the company.”

“You know me well then.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the both of you trying to search for the next words to say, you’re not entirely sure how to start with what you want you really want to say to him. Your anxieties suddenly brushed away as Legolas goes to speak first, “Uh...Y/N I.......Aragorn had told me something..”

“Huh, now what secrets would that ranger have to share?”

“Actually it was yours.” He looks at you with a worried face, afraid that he had started off wrong, your heart speeds up as you avoid eye contact with him but only for a moment before your eyes are searching for his once again.

“Oh...I wouldn’t have any idea as to what he might have told you.” Is all that you can mutter, he brings his sight up from the ground to study your stunned face, he suddenly breaks out into the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“I feel like you do.” Says Legolas softly, at this your nerves prick in anticipation and excitement, nothing on his face indicates anything false.

“What would that be then?” You ask in a hushed voice as you stare longingly into his beaming eyes.

 “I did not realize how your heart leapt as mine does when I look upon your face. No elleth has so unknowingly taken the very stars out of the sky in the way that you have Y/N....I would like it very much if you would have me, for the rest of our days in this world, and beyond those into the lands of eternal summer.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as a lump forms and a tightness grows in your chest, keeping you from saying anything comprehensible. You definitely had not anticipated Legolas to straight up confess his undying love to you in one night. But as your kind is known for, once two fall in love, they fall with all of their heart and soul in a way that no human, dwarf, or hobbit could ever understand. Your eyes soften as unexpected tears well up in the corners of your eyes. You’re not usually so moved by words, but in all the centuries in middle earth not once has anyone said something so wholeheartedly kind to you like this.

“I do not know if we shall even survive through our quest.” You reply in a whisper, he looks towards the ground at your feet, a heartbroken expression crossing onto his shadowed face as he begins to doubt Aragorn’s confession of yours, “If I am to spend however long I have left, I would want no other then you, Legolas.” He pulls his attention back up to you in an instant, his heart swelling with happiness and relief as you continue, “You have taken my heart and I never want it back.” You finally confess as you reach out your hands to touch his own, he looks deeply into your eyes while he interlocks his hands with yours.

“Then I will keep it safe forever, just as you’ve asked...if you will do the same for me?”

“No one will ever find it.”

He smiles at that, letting out the softest of laughs that’s pure music to your own pointed ears within the quiet of the night. Your own lips break into a beaming smile, a surge of absolute joy and adoration seeping throughout your entire vessel. He settles down once again, its just you and him in this giant world of chaos and calm, his eyes are so bright and he feels like a dream.

 Then just like that the two of you are leaning in without a care in the world, his lips are soft and inviting as his hands break from your grasp to snake around your waist. Pulling you in closer, so as you melt into one, he is gentle and delicate as he moves his hand to caress the side of your face. When you both can’t take the lack of breath anymore do you begrudgingly pull away, your faces flushed and beaming with pure bliss and love. 

“I think I would like to do that with you everyday for as long as we may live, meleth nin.”

“As do I my prince.” 

[dcforts]

[foosball]

They’ve got a foosball table now.

Dean spots it by the side of the road, one leg bent, a little rusty, the glass smashed in and a couple of men’s heads cut off. He goes back to load it on a truck and bring it home and Sam’s bewildered face when he unloads is enough to pay off for the extra journey, even if his “Ta-da” has no effect whatsoever not on him, nor on Jack who clearly has no idea what that thing is.

Dean doesn’t care, he’s too excited.

It’s not like he’s ever been a champion at it, but if someone asks him that’s Sam’s fault: he’s always been too young and not enough competitive and Dean just didn’t have anyone else to play with and never enough time at the arcade to practice.

But now, he’s got one all for himself. He cleans it up and fixes it up the best he can and his excitement grows and grows.

And then it plummets like a sinking ship when he finally gets his chance to play and Jack kicks his ass ten times in a row.

Sam is no help: one, the more Dean gets frustrated the more he laughs at him, and two, he’s now too big to fit on the same side as Dean so he can’t even team up with him. And no, winning with Jack against Sam doesn’t count.

“He’s just a kid,” Sam laughs when Dean voices his suspicious on Jack using his powers to beat him.

“That’s not the point!” he retorts and then retires to his room to grumpily listen to music for the rest of the night.

Hope comes back full force the next afternoon in the shape of two familiar shoulders covered by a trenchcoat. He finds them in the library, sitting at one of the tables. Cas has a laptop open in front of him and he is intent on consulting a news website, one index finger moving slowly on the touch pad.

Dean circles the table to stand in his field of vision and points one finger at him. “Foosball,” he says, serious.

Cas looks up at him and his expression stays neutral. “It’s a table top game.”

“I kn- ,” Dean rolls his eyes. “What do you know about it? How good are you at it?”

“I never played.”

A wicked grin stretches on Dean’s face. He puts both palms on the surface of the table and leans in.

“I propose an alliance. You, me, against the giant and the kid. What you say?”

Now Castiel seems confused and slightly alarmed, not exactly enthusiastic at the idea of being dragged in a situation that would likely make him uncomfortable. He gapes at him like a fish.

Dean keeps going. “I secretly train you to be the best foosball player on Earth and then we crush them”, he says it closing a fist in mid-air.

“I don’t know -”

“Hell, maybe you’re a natural, just like Jack. And I’m not above using a little bit of angelic powers to cheat. I’m pretty sure he’s not playing clean either.”

“Dean -,” he starts, but Dean takes hold of his trechcoat sleeve and tugs at it. “Come on, before they see us.”

*

Cas is definitely not a natural. Which doesn’t turn out to be such a bad thing after all because that means that Dean gets to win a match for the first time since he got the table.

And it’s a good thing also because, unlike Sam, Cas is competitive, and the fact that he seems unable to properly coordinate to move a few rods and excel at a stupid human game bothers him greatly, so he focuses like his life depends on it until he finally wins a match. After the shot that seals the match, he looks up at Dean, genuinely pleased, “I won,” he states, almost incredulous.  

Dean feels giddy. He smiles back at him.

*

So now with a fourth guy, Dean can finally have his long sought balanced match.

Sam and Jack make fun of him for how badly he wants a rematch, but after they lose two matches in a row against Dean and Cas, a thick silence falls into the room, broken only by rare grunts and the sound of the ball rolling around on the table.

In only a day, Cas’s got incredibly good. He has the great ability to always anticipate Dean’s intentions, and moves his bars to accommodate his strategy. It’s like, in addition to learning the rules of the game, he learned how Dean plays and that makes him the best teammate Dean could ask for.

They only share a satisfied smile the first times they close a match. Dean is too busy shoving it in Sam and Jack’s face, really. But on the third match, they’re head to head and the adrenaline’s pumping and on the last ball, Cas’ goalie blocks Sam’s shot with a swift and clean movement and sends the ball flying back quick like a rocket on the other side of the field and into their goal with a clunk, and Dean is so surprised and amazed that he lets out a shout and raises his fists in the air.

Jack and Sam are groaning and calling for a time out and Cas is smiling at him, his hands still on the rods, content to just stand there and watch him bouncing on his feet like a child. Dean is so euphoric that he shouts, “That was awesome,” and cups Cas’ face in his hands and leans in to smack a loud kiss on his cheek, only Cas startles at the unexpected contact and Dean’s lips end up pressing dangerously close to his mouth.

So if they lose the next two matches it’s entirely his fault.

As soon as he realizes what’s happened, he drops Cas’ face like it’s a hot potato and they look at each other alarmed. That kind of unbalances the whole thing; Dean’s ears keep ringing and Cas keeps messing up too, unable to focus.

They lose the third match in a row and Dean doesn’t even make fun of Sam and Jack when high-five three times with both hands as if they’re five years olds because he’s busy being too aware of the tension on his side of their table.

With three matches each, they decide, whoever wins the next one, is gonna win it all. Dean calls a time out and pushes Cas to the side.

“We need to get it together.”

“Dean -”

“Cas, let’s just focus on the match. No distractions, okay?”

Cas nods reluctantly. “No distractions.”

And so they play, slightly better, but still struggling.

And then there’s one ball left.

Jack and Dean do a little bit of a silly ritual, taking turns blowing on it and then Jack presses it against his chest, closes his eyes and says, “If you make me win, this will be one of the best days of my life.”

“Yeah, alright, just play,” Dean mocks him, but when he looks towards Cas and Sam they both look like they fell for his little act.

So Dean is not exactly surprised when Jack gets a chance for a clear shot and Cas just – doesn’t catch it.

Dean sees clearly the way he pulls his rod ever so slightly to allow the ball to go in. He sees the way he looks immediately up to Jack not to miss his face light up. The way he smiles fully, with crinkles on the corner of his eyes and all, as Jack laughs and cheers with Sam, and then Jack is pointing at him and Dean has to take his eyes off of Cas and deal with the obnoxious truth that they lost. He lost. Again.

But Cas is pleased, and Jack has stars in his eyes and Sam is having fun - although at his expenses - so Dean doesn’t even think about complaining, or calling bullshit, or asking for a rematch.

*

After dinner he says he’s going to bed but quietly sneaks into Dean Cave once again to watch tv. Cas finds him anyway, even if the lights are off and the volume is set very low.

He comes in like he knew exactly that he was going to be in there. “You alright?” he asks.

Dean says, “Yeah.”

Cas doesn’t occupy the other empty chair, but comes to hover next to Dean’s until he moves his left arm and he can perch on the armrest. It’s an usual position but not an unusual closeness and Dean feels warmed by the familiarity of it.

“Sorry about earlier. I know you wanted to win.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s okay. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Under the light coming from the tv screen, Cas presses his lips together, looking troubled. Dean knows he’s about to confess, so with a small smile he anticipates him: “I know what you did. There was no way you couldn’t have caught that shot.”

Cas lowers his head, showing guilt.

“It’s fine.” he reassures him before he can say anything. “It was nice seeing him happy.”

Cas nods and his leg bumps against Dean’s knee and that prompts a quirk of lips. Dean feels the need add something about earlier.

“And – I guess I-, sometimes I get a little too excited over stupid stuff. Sorry for throwing off your game. T’was an accident.”

Cas is silent for a long moment and Dean can’t guess what he’s thinking from his expression cause he’s very intent on looking at a randomly selected spot on Cas’ dress pants.

Then Cas says, “No need to apologize,” and there is a warm hand on his shoulder and Dean finally looks up. Cas has a smile stretching his lips and Dean can’t believe that just hours before his mouth was so close to them it almost touched them. “Do you want to play now? I can let you win,” he teases.

“Hey!” he protests, but with no real heat in it, “I don’t need you to let me win.”

Cas raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as if he’s sorry for him, “You sure?”

“Oh, that’s how you wanna – okay, smartass, you’re on. But -” Cas is about to stand up and Dean stops him with a hand on his tight. Cas stares at the hand and then up at Dean. “- not now? Let’s play another day.”

“Okay,” says Cas and sounds a little breathless. Dean smiles bravely, hoping he doesn’t look too scared. He doesn’t remove his hand.

“Wanna stay here? Catch a movie?”

Cas nods and as Dean presses play on the remote he shifts on the armrest to get comfortable and moves his hand to entwine his fingers with Dean’s.

A long time passes before either of them says anything. They stay absolutely still, watching straight ahead the one minute fifty-six seconds of opening credits as if it’s the most interesting thing they’ve ever seen.

And only when Dean is sure he’ll be able to hear his voice above his own heartbeat again, and the world didn’t end and nothing terrible happened and Cas didn’t just suddenly change just because their hands touched, he casually calls: “Hey Cas?”

Cas seems to relax as well when he hears his voice. He looks back at him, “Yeah?”

“Jack cheats, right?”

Cas huffs a laugh, “No.”

Dean slides down in his chair and pouts, “Damn it.”

[plus-ultra-oneshots]

Nerd {BakugouXFemale!Reader}

Nerd

BakugouXFemale!Reader Oneshot

-Reader is very shy-

"... you afraid of me or something?"

.:+:.

"Load up and sit down. The bus will be leaving shortly."

Everyone clamored into the bus in an excited rush, stuffing their bags away in the undercarriage and bringing their carry-ons with them. Pillows, blankets, books, music- the works. All things they wanted to have with them the seven or so hours the bus ride was gonna take in order to get to the offsite training facility you would all be staying at for the week. Most everyone was excited about it, and you were too, though a bit nervous regardless.... You were always nervous about something though.

You sat down in a seat near the window in the middle of the bus, hands folded in your lap and headphones hung around your shoulders, connected to your DS. You were probably gonna spend the whole ride playing a game and keeping to yourself. You usually did, you weren't very social and you were very quiet... To be honest you'd not really talked to any of your classmates all that much. Asui and Kouda were the only two people you were even really comfortable around, because they were fairly and quiet and laid back like you.

Anyone in the class who was bubbly or loud, you didn't really feel comfortable around... It was just too much, so you stayed away from commotion. And it didn't have to be someone who had done something to you or anything- pretty much ANYONE who was loud, confrontational or just super angry or mean looking set you on edge in no time at all. Which is not really an attitude a Pro Hero should have maybe, but you couldn't help it. You'd always been shy, your whole life, and a part of you have hoped that coming to UA would help make you less shy... It didn't really seem to have done much so far.

You saw Asui take up a seat next to Ururaka, and Kouda took a familiar spot beside Tokoyami. You averted your eyes from watching people file in (with Iida directing everyone... Or at least attempting to), the whole bus a wash of noise and conversation all around. You glanced out the window, and toward the sky overhead, watching a few birds fly passed and disappear behind the tall and looming figure of the Main UA Building.

You were aware of someone taking a silent seat beside you, though you didn't glance up for a few seconds as you saw Mr. Aizawa outside the bus and saying something to Mr. Present Mic... You couldn't honestly hear them or read their lips if you tried, and besides- that's eavesdropping.

You glanced left to see who it was that had taken the seat next to you only out of curiosity, and your heart felt like it nearly leapt from your chest.

B-Bakugou...?!

You jumped, your body turning slightly as your back hit the window and pinned you there as you reflexively scooted backwards from him as much as was humanly possible. You let out a none too flattering yelp of surprise and those narrowed, angry red eyes of his shifted toward you as he scowled.

W-why did he sit next to me...?!

"Tch... What the hell is your problem?" He grumbled hotly, your heart skipped another beat at the less than happy look on his face and the steely glare he set on you. You visibly wilted under the intense stare, your limbs pulled toward you and backed against the window- and words failed you entirely as he waited for a reply... and only seemed to get more aggravated when you failed to give one. "Oi, why are you staring at me like that? You look like I'm gonna blow your head off." He muttered lowly, and you took in a sharp breath of air at what sounded dangerously close to a threat in your mind.

O-oh my god... I'm gonna die... why did he sit next to ME of all people...!?

You sucked in a smaller, sharper breath of air and swallowed, hard. He was still waiting and you felt like your life possibly depended on giving him at least some reply that might make him not wanna... snap at... you...

"...U...uh...uhm... n-nothing..." You managed (somehow) to stammer, averting your eyes from him quickly and doing your best not to look at him at all- that might set him off, and you wanted nothing less than that. You attempted to shift your back from the window and sit in your seat properly, but you were still pushed up against the glass with your shoulder and as far from him as you could be. It was uncomfortable, and would be for the duration of the trip, but worth it. Your heart was pounding in your chest and a cold drop of sweat seemed to fall down your spine as you swallowed again, and your breathing halted for a few seconds, hoping maybe that would calm you down... though the pounding of your heart in your ears getting faster indicated it did not help.

Bakugou shot you a narrowed stare for a few seconds more as you adjusted, before clicking his tongue and looking forward and crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. "Tch... Whatever.." He muttered under his breath, his tone icy and the sound of it made you stiffen, though your eyes remained locked on the seat in front of you and frozen there. You might have tried to catch the gaze of one of your classmates and sent them a silent plea for help- and maybe convince someone into offering to switch seats with you- but you couldn't break your eyes from the chair, and you felt trapped further being on the inside seat with Bakugou to bar your way.

T-this... oh my god why me...? I'm gonna spend the whole ride stiff as a board... I can't relax with him next to me...!

You shut your eyes and wrung your hands together in your lap, letting out the breath you were holding slowly and doing your best not to fidget as everyone settled in, and the bus began to roll forward in very little time.

It's fine, (Y/N)... you're gonna be fine... you'll just sit here, nice and quiet and not moving, and not bothering him... not for the whole... seven hour... trip...

You bit the inside of both cheeks and stifled the grumble in the back of your throat,

It's fine... you can do this... believe in you..! ... me...?

Oh... I'm gonna die. Today is the day... damn it... WHY ME..!?

To your credit, you stayed perfectly still for a long while after the bus started moving, regardless of how much your muscles strained and your back started to hurt from sitting up so straight and being so stiff. And the whole while your stomach and your core seemed to twist into a million different knots just out of sheer nervousness- which was a feeling you were familiar with, but it seemed to have been amped up to times ten given who it was that was sitting beside you. You'd never been this worked up nor stressed in your life, and all he was doing was sitting next to you!

I hate this... I just... I can't help it...!

Your body wouldn't listen to you and unwind no matter how much you tried to rationalize and calm yourself down. It was just unconsciously stiff and even if you were actively trying to keep from leaning close to him, your body would have kept you forcefully leaned in the other direction anyway. It was just something you did without knowing it, you always leaned one way or another when someone sat next to you. And if you were between two people, you kept in your own space as much as you could and scarcely moved at all.

The general hum and murmur of the people around you talking became nothing but a low drone in the back of your mind as you poured all of your focus into sitting still. And time seemed to drag on forever as you sat there, silent, motionless, and with your eyes closed and hardly daring to breathe. Time passed long enough though that the noise of your classmates talking to each other died out, at least mostly.

"... Oi, (Y/N), why are you sitting like that?"

Your breathing halted altogether as your eyes shot open, panic and surprise racing anew at the sound of Bakugou's voice on your left and the growl in it... But most of all at the sound of your name on his lips.

W-wait a minute, he knows my name...?!

I didn't think he hardly knew I was in this class, let alone my name...!

A-And he... He's asking me why I'm so stiff...?! W-was he watching me...?!

Your eyes darted sideways toward Bakugou and your heart did another leap when you caught his eyes the instant you did so. He was watching you intently, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a tight line that bordered a frown as he quirked a brow at the very clear nervousness, and even borderline franticness that appeared in you when he addressed you.

"Seriously, what is your problem? You act like I'm fucking contagious or something." He muttered lowly, you gulped.

"N-nothing...! I... It's really nothing, I'm sorry if I'm... Uh... Bothering you...!" You stammered quickly, apologizing to him as his eyes narrowed further. "... I... Uhmm... I'm just a little tense is all... It's not a big deal...! And I-i don't think you're contagious or anything...! Of course now, w-why would I...?" Your hands wrung together as your eyes darted from him and toward them and then toward the seat and all things in between. "... well, uh... a-actually I'm a little surprised you k-know my name...? N-not that that is super important or anything, I just got caught off guard by it and you saying it o-out of nowhere...!" You were rambling now in the fit of your own nervousness and panic, and he frowned slightly as you continued to ramble on and on and without seeming to relax in the slightest. "Y-yeah, I'm just a little tense, b-but that's normal...! Am I bothering you..? C-cause I can shut up now, I wouldn't wanna make you m-mad or anything..!" You went on softly, "I-i really don't-"

"Stop!" Bakugou ordered sharply and you reflexively jumped at the sudden harshness in his tone. Your eyes snapped shut as you shrunk away from him, and your shoulders hunched slightly as you held your hands together in front of you.

"S-Sorry...!" Your voice was quiet and almost meek in the apology, and he blinked several times at the reaction when he raised his voice at you. Your posture seemed almost... defensive?

His jaw dropped the tiniest bit as his red eyes quickly scanned over your composure and the small, faint little inklings of fear in your face. He noticed the way you tried to put more space between the both of you, and seeing as how you were pressed against the window you almost looked like a cornered animal. There was a short pause of silence as he just took you in, before his jaw closed again and he grimaced, his eyes flashing as he seemed to take in a silent breath of air.

He was used to people being uneasy when he snapped at them, and he expected no less from you since you seemed so damned shy. But your reaction wasn't just shyness or unease like he expected- this was fear.

Fear

"... you afraid of me or something?" He muttered slowly, you stiffened at the question, your eyes snapping open and toward him, before flitting away almost sheepishly.

"O-oh... uhm... no... o-of course not..." You stammered quickly, and less than convincing as his lips pulled into a tight line and he seemed to grumble to himself at the answer.

"I'm not gonna murder you, ya know." Bakugou mumbled lowly, you swallowed, your words cutting off as you blinked at him. He let out an annoyed huff and turned away from you, facing front and letting his eyes drop closed as he crossed his arms about his chest. He slumped a little in his seat, leaning slightly in the direction away from you- subtly, just a little, and so little you barely noticed it, but he definitely did it... heh? W-What..?

"Tch... quit being such a weirdo and relax." He ordered, his tone low but his voice not raising in the slightest. "I'm not gonna kill you, and you don't need to act like a cornered rabbit. Just ignore me and stop being so freakin' tense."

You blinked, once, twice, and then several times over as your flitting gaze finally managed to stop moving and locked on to him. Your mind was whirling and the sudden shift in attitude from him, and the instructions to 'relax' caught you completely off guard.

Because... well, what? That response from him just didn't seem like him. You completely expected him to snap at you for rambling (and he kinda did) and being annoying and he should have blown a fuse with you like he was so prone to doing with everyone and everything. You'd seen him set off explosions at the most trivial and little things, and damn near get in an all out fist-fight with other students just because they 'looked at him funny' or 'said something stupid'. He had the shortest fuse and near to no patience with anyone, and your shy and fumbling personality was the very sort of thing that he was known to hate.

And knowing that, and your already lacking constitution with abrasive people (like him)- you were petrified of pissing him off to the point he'd blow up at you like he did with literally almost everyone else... and you probably would die if he ever decided to treat you like he seemed to treat Midoriya. The green-haired boy seemed to catch the brunt of Bakugou's ire at all times, and it was (admittedly) a fear of yours that that same sort of ire might ever be targeted at you.

And he seemed annoyed right now, as to be expected- but it wasn't explosive annoyance. In fact he sort of seemed like he was trying to be calm...? And maybe even assure you...? Had you maybe offended him when it was clear you were a little afraid of him? But didn't offending Bakugou spell for getting your head snapped off and possibly punched?

But he seemed to try and... And not be aggressive about it? At least a little?

B...but... WHAT? I... I'M SO CONFUSED, WHAT THE FUCK...?!

You were failing to come up with a rational explanation for the behavior, and for it you were failing to just do anything. So you just sat there and stared at him, and you probably looked like an idiot and were apt to actually piss him off... But it was like your mind derailed and you froze.

What was that thing you'd seen on the Internet before...?

'(Y/N).exe has stopped responding'?

Bakugou seemed quite aware of your staring without ever having to open his eyes, and his lips pulled downward at the edges as he seemed to bite back his rising agitation. "... Quit staring." he muttered lowly, his tone a borderline growl and you were snapped from your stunned stupor, your heart speeding up at the words. You quickly averted your eyes and sat back in your seat, hands fidgeting around your DS in your lap and nodding stiffly.

"..y...yeah...s..sorry..." You mumbled quietly, chewing the inside of your cheek in nervousness as you fumbled with your headphones and put them in... Whilst also forcing your body to try and lose some of it's tension, though it did you little good.

.... Uh... Somehow I think I avoided death at the hands of Bakugou today...? Somehow... I really don't get it...

You tried to pour your focus on starting up the device and the game loaded into it, but you felt knotted up and your heart was pounding.

...buuuuut, I think I need to just... Just focus on something else before I have a stroke or something...!

You bit the inside of both cheeks and set every ounce of will and brainpower and focus onto the game, trying to block out the world and manage some way of forgetting the blonde on your left. And hoping that doing so, would help make you feel less like a ball of yarn that had been twisted and knotted up to all seven sorts of hell.

And much to your relief, after awhile you got absorbed in the game and hardly thought about Bakugou or the bus or anyone else on it. Your fingers worked in deft movement as you pressed the button and moved the small joystick around, and your mind falling further and further into the fictional world and story you (as the character) were playing through. That stylus was pinned lightly between your index and middle finger when not needing it- and moved over the touch screen on the bottom in swift, precise strokes when the time called for it. You hadn't any semblance of how much time had dragged passed and your body had fallen out of the bulk of it's stiff posture unconsciously as you played. And due to the headphones you had in, you couldn't hear anything that might be going on in the bus around you.

You'd almost completely forgotten about everything and everyone else before a small tap on your shoulder dragged your mind from the game and threw you back into reality. You reflexively turned the sound down so you could hear without pulling your headphones out, and were in the midst of turning your head to whoever had tapped you when you heard Bakugou's low voice.

"What in the hell are you playing? You look like a mutt." He grumbled, and you blinked, stiffening in surprise as you caught his eye. He had leaned back in your direction at some point, and was almost leaning with his elbow on the arrest between you two- in the position he would need to be to be able to watch you as you played your game...

...uh... Was he watching me play...?

"... Uhm... Well I sort of am a dog...? W-well, not me but the main character... And he's not a dog really, he's actually a wolf pup... Who's sort of the son of a wolf god..." You explained quickly, though to be honest you were surprised you managed to answer as calmly as you did. "... It's a game called Okamiden, it's a sequel to another game called Okami... The premise of it is that you go around with a Celestial Brush and bring life back to the world..." You trailed off, chewing the inside of your cheek in part nervousness, and part embarrassment. He probably didn't need an entire explanation, and it was likely to piss him off again if you started to ramble... Besides, it was a game, you needn't talk about it like you were obsessed or anything.

"You're fighting things too." he pointed out, and you paused.

"... Yeah... Imps and demons and stuff like that..." you mumbled uncertainly, not really sure why the conversation had persisted...?

You fidgeted a little, your attention on him instead of your game for a few seconds, and somewhat failing to register the fact that your thumb was still pressed against the joystick, and little Chibitarasu was moving without you paying any mind to him.

"... You're gonna die if you don't pay attention." Bakugou pointed out, directing your eyes to the screen and you jumped when you saw it filled with a band of enemies.

"... O-oh crap..!" You hissed under your breath, quickly pressing buttons and getting back into it, enough to keep yourself alive (not that this game was super intense or anything), but not enough to miss the fact that Bakugou was definitely watching you play. He said absolutely nothing as you took care of the enemies and you tapped the pause button, glancing his way cautiously as he met your gaze when he noticed you looking.

"... What?" He mumbled,

"... Uh... N-nothing I guess... I'm just surprised you're even interested...?" you stammered softly, he let out a sigh and stuck his cheek in the palm of his hand as he leaned into it.

"There's nothing else to do on this stupid bus." he muttered tartly, "And you are sitting right there." He pointed out lowly, you swallowed a bit and nodded.

"...r...right..." You mumbled, averting your eyes again as he seemed to huff at you.

"I told you to quit being so tense already." he muttered, you nodded quickly though the words did nothing to get rid of the nervousness that hit you anew at the unexpected spur of conversation- and it got worse when there came and incredible awkward silence where neither you nor Bakugou did or said anything. You weren't looking at Bakugou to know, but you were sure you could hear his blood slowly beginning to boil with your less than graceful social skills.

What even possessed him to ask you anything? Wasn't he the one that said ignore him? So why did he even try and start any semblance of a conversation?

I just... I hate talking to people I am so bad at it, but I'm worse with him...

"... Tch... So what's with 'wolf god'?" He asked, earning your surprised eyes again as he gave you a look that seemed almost stubborn, and a little uncertain. "You said the mutt had a 'god' for a parent, yeah?" You shifted a little, swallowing back your surprise and your nervousness to the best of your ability.

I'm reading this wrong, right...?

I have to be... cause it almost seems like...?

"... uhm... do you want me to... to explain the game to you...? And the lore and stuff...?" You asked slowly, your eyes narrowing at him as your mind whirled and you watched him- closely. Because this seemed... out of the norm for him, and in some way he seemed a little unsure of himself- like he was doing something he wasn't used to...

... like maybe... is he... trying to be friendly...?

No way, right...? This is Bakugou... he doesn't care about being 'nice'...

"... might as well, I have nothing better to do." He murmured, settling in a bit more into leaning against the armrest and about as calm and neutral-faced as was possible. Your eyes went wide though,

H-he actually wants me to talk to him...?! And about a video game...?!

I... I think he IS trying to be friendly, what the hell..?!

You were so shocked at his answer that you failed to reply right away, and there came another awkward pause in the conversation that he seemed to grumble at- though only just.

"...Tch... don't look so freaked out, I'm bored and you know a lot about this game, yeah? You've been sucked into it for the last hour." He mumbled, "So just talk about it, maybe rambling will help you relax and not look like a stiff stone statue... seriously, you bein' so tense is irking me."

"...Uh... o-okay..." You mumbled, swallowing a bit as your eyes darted from him and toward your game for a moment. "... I... uh... I'll try... but...uhmm... Bakugou...?"

"What?" He muttered, a brow quirking.

"... you sure me rambling isn't gonna... irk you more...?" You asked tentatively, your fingers tapping nervously against the edges of your DS. He blinked at the question, frowning a bit to himself as he seemed to hold back on letting out an aggravated huff.

"I wouldn't tell you to talk if I thought you were gonna piss me off, so just talk." He replied lowly, though internally he muttered to himself something along the lines of 'you idiot'... though given it was clear there was little he did that didn't make you look ready to have a heart attack, he refrained from saying that out loud.

"... uh... okay... so... where to start..." You mumbled, near all to yourself as you did your best to settle the whirling of your head and your thoughts- and your nerves too- but all of this was just about waaaaaaaay off base for what you expected from him... like ever.

You weren't even sure you could imagine a world where he would try to be any sort of 'friendly' with anyone, let alone you- and yet there wasn't another explanation you could come up with for the sudden turn in events. And that just made you all the more nervous and flustered to boot. Again, you SUCKED at talking to people, it came with the territory of being as painfully shy as you were. And this?

This is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of my comfort zone, damn it!

You sucked in a breath of air and held it, doing your best to cast off the nagging thoughts and telling yourself you needed to relax, somehow. Relax just a little and just start talking, because maybe if you did that- maybe he would be right- and you might relax because you were talking about something you were familiar with.

... I hope...

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and pulled one headphone from your ear. And then you started talking, your voice shaky and soft and for a minute you were afraid he might not be able to even hear you. But there was little space between you two, and the bus was pretty quiet by now so there was little an issue on that end. You started in from the sort of start, beginning with the game's predecessor and explaining the characters and the higher lore of the game, breaking off here and there and everywhere to explain things when the thought occurred, and jumping between this specific topic and that so much it was probably impossible to follow with what you were saying. But he didn't say anything, and in reality he just listened, his expression flat and giving nothing away as you went on, but he didn't look bored, at least... or at least, you didn't think so?

The more you talked the more tangents you broke off on, and the more you lost track of where you had originally intended to be steering the conversation. You didn't notice, and Bakugou never corrected you either. And after awhile he interjected, but only to ask a question. Being interrupted out of nowhere made you jump, and you hated yourself for the reaction, but he didn't pause and he asked what he wanted, with you doing your best to come up with the best and most explanatory answer you could muster. After the first question, there came a few more here and there, and with every occurrence you grew less and less nervous at him saying anything at all. It was pretty clear to him you stopped just explaining things, because your voice got a little firmer and you sounded less like a stuttering Wikipedia page on the subject. You started to talk about the things you liked and with more vigor and excitement, and you mentioned the things that bothered you and the things you 'loved'- and then things broke away from the game itself and started toward the fan content that came with it.

The art was the thing you seemed to light up the most about. Both the art in the game and online had your eyes gleaming and all sense of your constant nervousness seemed to melt as you talked about it, and he just listened, quiet and content.

At some point you reverted back to the game itself and started playing it again while simultaneously talking to him all the while. Pointing things out and explaining the mechanics and the like, and he watched and listened with the same rapt attention he had had the whole time, and he didn't seem bothered, or annoyed, or bored at all... which surprised you the whole way through, but a part of you felt pleasantly surprised with it.

You'd been talking the whole way through the next few hours until the sun outside started to sink and the world was bathed in a low, orange light flooding in through the windows. You reached the end of your very lengthy spiel and smiled in embarrassment as your explanations and whatnot came to a close, and your shyness flooded back in after being absent.

"... ah... I think that's about all I can really say about it... sorry if I talked your ear off.. I realize that was a lot all at once, heh..." You told him quickly, your eyes breaking from your game and finding him as he blinked at you once, before his lips twitched at one corner in a lopsided, and almost lazy smirk.

"... hmmph... you're such a nerd." He murmured quietly, his tone a little rough but not annoyed. It wasn't an insult or anything, it sounded like a tease and your eyes flashed as surprise hit you straight on. You glanced away from him quickly and back toward your game, your cheeks flushing a little as you felt your face heat up and grumbled internally as you tried to smile and offer up a laugh,

"U-uh.. yeah, I guess I am a little..." You murmured softly, but you felt awkward as all hell and bit the inside of your cheek. He didn't say anything after that and silence settled down between the two of you as you played the game awhile longer, ever aware that Bakugou was still watching you in silence. You cast him a sideways glance only to find his eyes on your game and not your face, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

You were entirely sure he was attempting to be friendly with the whole striking up a conversation thing, even if that seemed an impossible and unbelievable idea when concerning him. And while you weren't entirely sure why he would do such a thing, a part of you thought maybe it had been because of how incredibly clear it was that you were nervous and even scared around him, and even of him.

Not that you could understand why he would care, anyhow- but that was what your mind had come up with for an answer for this whole situation, and there was some feeling in your gut that made you think you might be right.

I just... I have a hard time wrapping my head around that... or any of this really...

The orange light of sunset outside shone against his pale blonde hair and turned it a brand of yellow-orange that was so warm in color, and you blinked.

... though... maybe today taught me a lesson... that he's not as bad as I've imagined him to be. And maybe I don't have to be so scared of him either... he seems capable of being calm and some amount of pleasant, enough so even I was talking for a long while... that never happens...

You glanced back to your game and your shoulders sagged slightly as you put a little more focus in the playing, though your mind still wandered. Despite the very unwanted situation of being stuck sitting next to him, and the near panic-attack you'd been having about it for the first hour or so... things had gone better on the ride than you could have imagined. Weird and shocking, no doubt... but better than you could have hoped, and you were admittedly more relaxed with that blonde boy sitting next to you right now than you could have imagined you would be in about a million freakin' years.

He just seemed so loud and rude and daunting all the time, you know? He was always in such a foul mood and his behavior around the class and with your classmates hadn't done him any credit nor made you inclined to liking him, or ever thinking you could get along with him. And sitting with him on a 7 hour bus ride? No way! Talking to him, and for as long as you did? Not a chance! Finding a sort of content silence between the two of you? Content? Never! And he's not actually an all around abrasive, and brutish person who gets set off at every little thing? Are we even talking about the same guy?!

... and yet all of those things had happened, and you were no small amount of surprised about it.

So admittedly... Bakugou wasn't as scary as you thought. He'd proved that today, and what a turn it was.

So that content silence you mentioned lasted awhile longer as you played the game, and all the way up until the time the DS died on you, and you were subsequently forced to put your faithful companion away. You briefly thought about asking Kaminari to use his Quirk and charge it for you, but a quick glance back you found him several rows away and completely conked out... most of the other students on the bus were asleep too, or otherwise sitting quietly and minding themselves.

You shut the lid on the DS and held it lightly between both hands and in your lap, your eyes trailing to your left and toward Bakugou when he shifted and sat up a little straighter. He was well aware you were done and he seemed content to be quiet still, and you paused as he stretched a little.

"... Bakugou...?" You murmured softly, uncertainly almost- you weren't sure you should say anything, but to be honest- you started talking without any chance to stop yourself. He didn't look your way, his eyes were closed as he rolled his shoulders and bit and gave you little but a small 'hmm?' in reply to you having said his name.

"... thank you... for listening... talking helped..." You murmured softly, he paused at your thanks, almost surprised by it as his narrowed eyes moved toward you. You offered up a small, gentle, and still very nervous smile, but it wasn't strained, and he sighed.

"... yeah, well- I told you I wasn't gonna kill you." He mumbled, almost hotly, and lacking a bit in social grace enough that you got that feeling he was a little out of his element again. You smiled a bit more and nodded at him though,

"Yeah." You hummed softly, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat all the way, grumbling something incoherent in reply to you but nothing else. He seemed to want to drop the subject and you were okay with that, so you looked away smiled softly to yourself for a little while as your eyes dropped closed.

... this is not how I could have imagined this bus ride to go... hmmm... I'm not complaining though...

You were faintly aware of the orange light of sunset fading on the other side of your eyelids, but you also hardly cared either as your mind seemed to tilt toward an abyss and quickly fall into it. Before you knew it, the world around you and the bus got lost into black waves of nothing as consciousness left you behind and what lingering tension in your body melted away altogether.

Bakugou heard your breathing deepen and slow, and he knew you were asleep long before he ever spared a glance your way. The sun dropped all the way out of the sky and twilight was setting in fast as the ever darkening world outside the window went by and the inside of the bus grew all the more dim with it. His red eyes reflected what little light was left as he let out a small sigh and let his eyes fall again.

He'd not done so for more than a few minutes or so, before he felt something bump against his shoulder an his eyes snapped open in reaction to it. He glanced quickly right, and stiffened slightly to see your head tilted and resting against his shoulder out of nowhere. You were still fast asleep and gave no indication of waking up as your posture melted a little more and your head rest against him like he was the most comfortable pillow in the world- and he bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes narrowed at you.

He paused for a few seconds, staring at you (what little he could see of your face with the angle you and he were at now) and your hair brushing lightly against his shoulder and neck. He frowned a little, grumbling to himself as he shook his head a little but shifted so he was closer to you and leaning against the armrest between the both of you again. His eyes locked forward with his arms still crossed over his chest as you slept on with your head resting against his shoulder, and Bakugou seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. But he resigned himself to sitting there and not pushing you off regardless of how annoyed he might have looked on the outside- because damned if he would do that after all that stupid 'friendly' shit he'd been doing to try and get you to relax.

His jaw clenched a little as he let out a long, low sigh.

"...tch... what a nerd..."

.:+:.

.:+:.

I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

MasterList Right Here

[serzhantkris]

Rebel Yell- 4

Summary: Let’s get something straight: he does not love you. He knows that for sure, because he doesn’t want to scream at you and he doesn’t want to get married, and that’s the only things he knows for sure about people who are in love. And he was doomed to kiss with his fists and scream and be angry and blame everyone but himself for the rest of his life. So, no. Billy did not love you. Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: ~1900

Masterlist

The sun was setting behind the trailer when the purr of the Camaro echoed through the surrounding trees. The screen door rattles in the frame as it slams behind you. Smoke pours from the muffler and the driver’s side window, both swirling into the dying daylight. Your boots scuff in the dirt as you walk to the car, watching Billy as he flicks his cigarette to the ground. 

Bending down, you look in the passenger window. Billy grins at you from under his sunglasses, flashing white teeth with a pink tongue caught between them. Yanking open the door, you slide onto the leather seats. 

“Hey,” you breathe, still half-way through pulling on your jacket. Billy shifts into drive before the door even slams shut, wheels spitting dust into the air as he pulls onto the road.

“Nice skirt,” he says, eyes trailing over your form as you roll down your window. “You like scary movies?”

Your brow shoots up. “What kind? We talkin’ Halloween or Rosemary’s Baby? ‘Cause that demonic shit freaks me right the fuck out.”

Billy laughs, not hiding the amusement when his nose scrunches up and cheeks burst. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He flashes a wink at you, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

Humming under your breath, your reflection grins back at you from the side mirror. Watching the flashes of green and brown as Hawkins passes, your hands grip the window and you lean out, just enough to see the sun disappear over a hill. Turning back to Billy, the soft glow of dying light on your face, your heart jumps when you caught him looking at you. His eyes flicker over your back, down to the hem of your skirt and back up to your face.

“Hey, Billy,” you hum. “How fast does your baby go?”

Music burst from the seams of the Camaro, filling every curved inch of leather and hard plastic that lines the inside. Billy’s hands beat down on the steering wheel, his right foot heavy as he sped down the dirt roads, blowing up dust behind the Camaro as he turned corners sharply, the tires squealing. The grin plastered to his face never faltered, not even as he swiveled on a particularly hard turn.

You were still half-way out the window, holding yourself up and screaming into the wind. A whooping hollar fell out of Billy’s throat as he went up a hill, the car coming just off the road as he kept shooting forward. The laughter in your throat vanished with the whipping wind as blue and red lights spread across the field, illuminating your face as you whipped around to see the police car trailing after the Camaro.

You fell back into the seat as Billy slowed down the car, a hard expression on his face. He had turned the music down, the sound a soft murmur between you.

Shit. Billy closed his eyes, resting his head back against the headrest. Shit shit shit-

In the rear view mirror, he catches sight of the officer making his way toward the Camaro. He’s eyeing it, the way he might if the car was out on a lot with a price tag on it. He stops at the window, leaning down to look into the car. Billy’s eyes scan the lines in his face, the dark grey-streaked goatee.

“Drivin’ awful fast there, kid.”

Billy sits up a little straighter, hands clenching the steering wheel. A voice in the back of his head tells him to be pleasant, to smile and nod. Respect and responsibility.

Tentatively, you lean toward the window, smiling sheepishly. “Hi, Daddy.”

Jim’s eyes flickered from Billy’s face to yours, his face falling when he realizes it’s you sitting in the passenger’s seat. 

“Y/N,” he warns. “The hell do you think you’re doing hanging out the car window like that? You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

“I know, I’m sorry, I won’t do it anymore.”

Jim’s eyes flicker back to Billy. Billy forces a tight smile, red crawling over his face. “Who’s this?”

“This is Billy, Dad.”

“Does Billy,” Jim flashes an equally tight smile at the younger man, “have a last name?”

Billy swallows hard. “Hargrove, sir.”

“Hargrove,” Jim mumbles, brows tugging together. “I don’t know that one. What street?”

“Cherry... Sir.”

“Dad,” you interject, dropping the sweet smile. “No interrogating my date. We’re gonna be late for our movie.”

“You’d be later if you crashed and didn’t make it at all.” Jim shoots you a glare, but stands up and gives Billy another cautionary look. 

“Okay, Dad. I promise we’ll be careful, can we please go now?”

“No more speeding,” Jim warns, pointing at Billy. “If you do, I’ll find out. And get her home by ten.”

“Dad.”

“And wear your seatbelt, both of you.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy keeps his hands on the wheel as Jim tucked his fingers into his belt loops and moved back toward his jeep. 

The flashing lights turn off, leaving the road dark and quiet as the jeep pulls back onto the road. It stops next to the Camaro, the windows rolled down as Jim leans closer. “Ten o’clock, young lady. And keep your ass in that seat.”

The jeep headlights grow smaller and smaller, and Billy finally lets out a deep breath when they disappear. “Your dad.” His teeth are clenched, eyes closing as the tension lets out of his shoulders. “Is a cop?”

“Um- no?” You purse your lips, embarrassed. “He’s the… Chief of Police.”

“Jesus,” Billy breathes, his head back against the seat, eyes trained on the ceiling of the car. “Jesus, Y/N, you could have warned me.”

Billy turned to look at you, annoyed, but his face softened at the sight of you trying not to smile. His lips twitched, unable to suppress the relief bubbling up in his chest. You started to laugh first, filling the car with the beautiful sound, and Billy doesn’t hold back his laughter anymore either. 

The Twilight Drive-In is packed, cars almost mirror-to-mirror. Billy fiddles with the radio station as he finds a parking spot at toward the back of the lot, turning the volume down and rolling the windows up. He licks his lips as he reaches for the door handle, glancing up to where the opening credits have started. “Do you want anything?”

You shake your head, smiling softly as he throws the door open and clamors out. He’s only gone a minute, returning with two glass bottles in his hand. Climbing back into the seat, he pops off both caps with the keychain dangling from the ignition before passing one to you. With a quiet thanks, you sip at the bubbly soda and turn your focus on the screen.

It’s quiet for a solid three minutes, the theme of the movie filling the silence between you and Billy, before he scoffs under his breath. “This is stupid.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not the movie,” Billy rolls his eyes, taking a drink from his soda. “Just…”

Billy sighs and runs a hand down his face. This is a first for him, and expressing to you what’s going through his head when he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking proves to be a challenge. 

“Going to the movies,” he says, resting the bottle on his knee. “For a first date.”

“Every first date I’ve been on has been to the movies,” you say. Billy nods.

“Yeah. Me, too. And it’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“Why’s it stupid?”

His fingers drum in the side of the bottle, licking up the condensation. “Normally, if I take a girl to the movies, it’s so we can screw around in the back in peace.”

You wrinkle your nose. “And telling me this is how you plan to woo me back there?”

“No,” he bites, rolling his eyes. “I just mean- Like, the point of movies is to sit and, I don’t know, not talk. But how are you supposed to get to know somebody if all you do is stare at a screen?”

“Or romp in the back seat?”

“Exactly.”

The movie keeps playing, and both of you stare forward, but it’s become less interesting now. Your brain seems slowed down, trying to piece together why it mattered to Billy whether the two of you had a conversation. “Billy, can I be honest with you?”

He takes a drink, catching the drops on his lips with his tongue.

“I was a hundred percent prepared for us to get here and you to ask me to hop in the back with you,” you sigh, hands picking at the hem of your skirt. “What do you care if we talk to each other or not?”

The way his blue eyes are trained on you, it’s hard to sit still. There’s something about the aggressive way they stare at you, soaking in the image of you fidgeting in your seat, that puts you on edge. His jaw works back and forth, tumbling words around in his mouth before he swallows thickly. “I told you I wanna know you.”

“But not- not in that way?”

His cheek flexes. “I mean, yeah-” his shoulders are tense, and he’s looking out the windshield at the little monsters crawling on the screen. “But not just that way.”

There’s something about you that Billy can’t pinpoint on a map. Most girls, every girl that’s been in the same seat you are, they were easy. In more than one way. Billy could flash that smile and they’d be on their knees under the steering wheel in a heartbeat. Then he’d take them home and completely forget who they were and where they lived not five minutes after he sped off.

But when you got in the car, making jokes, telling him to drive fast and laughing; every intention he’d had when he pulled up to that dinghy trailer was wiped away. He didn’t just want to lift up your skirt, but your smile too- and he wanted to remember where you lived and what your name was and what your chapstick tasted like.

“I think,” you say, after a moment of silence left the both of you staring at the screen again. “Maybe people go to the movies on a first date so they have something to talk about afterward. Like, maybe that movie is the only thing they have in common.”

“If that’s the case,” Billy shifts in his seat, dangling the glass bottle and watching the way it catches the glow coming through the windshield. “What even is the point? Why go out with someone when you’re just gonna talk for twenty minutes then sit in awkward silence, staring at each other until one of you decided they’ve had enough?”

“Silence isn’t always awkward,” you say. “Sometimes it’s nice. Sometimes it’s right.”

“What?”

It’s quiet a moment, Billy looking at you, looking at the way the lights make your eyes sparkle, the way you smile softly to yourself as you purposefully let it be silent and Billy thinks, you’re right. It isn’t always awkward.

“That’s how you know you found someone special. When you can just… shut the fuck up for a minute and enjoy each other.”

Billy smiles that crooked grin. You look at him, at the curl that falls away from the rest and dangles on his forehead and the uneven fold of his jacket collar. And you both shut the fuck up for a minute. 

Headlights began to dot the dark lot like shooting stars as they wove out of their spaces toward the gated entrance. Billy reached into his pocket, pulling out two cigarettes, waiting for most of the crowd to clear away. He lit them both, passing one to you.

“Alright, Hopper,” he says, turning his head to blow the smoke out his window. “Tell the new guy where’s the best place for a milkshake.”

Taglist Open

@william-hargroves​​​ @killer-queen-xo​​​ @sallyp-53​​​ @cloverrover​​​ @scud994​​​ @nighttwingg​​​ @yaidothat​​​ @abiwebb12​​​ @camillewester​​ @vespertxne​​ @potatoheadthewise​ @tearsforhan​ @leedelee14​ @crowned-gemini​ @ericuhlorain​ @frozenhuntress67​ @chloe-skywalker​ @thatpunkmaximoff​

[pips-fics]

lucy fic, as requested!  this one’s about wonsang getting some kind of stomach flu and involves a lot of random headcanons i have about these boys

——

the truth was, wonsang hadn’t been feeling great for the past two days.  a moderate headache had become the norm, and everything felt just a tad fuzzier than normal, a tad achier than someone his age should feel.  even on his best days, wonsang wasn’t the most clearheaded person, but music was normally an exception to that rule - and yet, he felt so off that yenevara* decided to postpone the production of the new album until the following day in favor of allowing wonsang to get some rest.

they didn’t talk about it, but the whole group knew that wonsang had trouble sleeping most nights.  it didn’t usually impact him so much, of course.  he could handle it.  but, sleep being a basic bodily function, it was only to be expected that he’d have days where his general lack of rest intruded on his abilities to function as a productive human being.  the other members of yenevara didn’t question it because wonsang didn’t mention the fact that he in fact had slept well the previous night - abnormally well, in fact.  and yet, when he returned to the dorm at 5 pm, he fell back asleep instantly.

his sleep started light and restless - he couldn’t quite get comfortable, and he woke slightly upon overhearing his bandmates when they returned from practicing in the studio.  they were loud - well, yechan was loud, the others were more or less normal human beings - and before too long they had their instruments out again.  this was typical; they practiced seriously at the studio, and then continued playing with a more variable level of focus when they returned to the dorm, sometimes splitting up to work on their own individual projects.  today they quickly dissolved into laughter and groans.  wonsang vaguely gathered that someone (probably gwangil) had spilled something in an attempt to create an unconventional instrument.  they were very noisy today, but it didn’t bother wonsang too much.  he was glad they were home.

he drifted off and then regained a bit of consciousness some time later, still half-asleep, to the sound of voices once again, but this time they were hushed, and much closer in proximity.

“he’s been sleeping here the whole time?”  gwangil whispered.

sangyeop hummed, pensive.  “he must have been.”

“but how did he sleep through all of that?”

“why was he back so early?  wasn’t yenevara working on demos or something today?”  the shower started up and wonsang was glad yechan wasn’t in here with the others.  as much as he loved their oldest member, he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of being woken up by his consistently chaotic state of being at this specific moment.  “do you think he had dinner?”

“we should let him rest,” gwangil said.  wonsang felt fingers carding through his hair and didn’t bother trying to figure who they belonged to.  someone else’s weight caused the foot of the bed to dip, and wonsang relaxed further as whoever it was pulled off his shoes.  he hadn’t even realized they were still on his feet.  “he probably just didn’t sleep well last night.”

sangyeop sounded less sure.  “i guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

after that, wonsang fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.  he didn’t wake up until late the next morning, when someone (yechan) yelled for some unknown reason (based on sangyeop’s deadpan response of “dumbass,” best guess is he burned his tongue on his coffee.  again).

wonsang did not want to get up.

“what the hell is wrong with him?”  gwangil grumbled, referring to their violinist no doubt, as he sat up in bed.

“what time is it?”  wonsang asked quietly.  pitifully, if he was being honest.  but here’s the thing: he was exhausted.

“ten-thirty.  too early.  i’m going back to sleep.”

wonsang nearly started crying.  it took everything he had to restrain himself to a faint whimper as he rolled himself out of bed.  at the sound, gwangil straightened up.

“hyung?  What’s wrong?”

wonsang shook his aching head, mumbling something about the rescheduled production meeting at 11 that he was definitely going to be late for, and trudged towards the bathroom to get ready.

everything seemed to take five times as long as it should have.  everything was ten times as difficult.  he didn’t bother styling his hair, or even wetting it for that matter - the thought of putting water on his head right now was absolutely repulsive.  as he was doing his best to pat it down to a reasonable nest rather than a rather explosive one, he noted the deep bags under his eyes and wondered what right they had to be there when he’d just slept for over 12 hours straight.  the light was too bright and he had to put on makeup but he didn’t want to and nothing seemed fair and everything hurt.

by the time he left the bathroom, he was closer to tears than ever.

“wonsangie!”  The moment yechan plowed into him, wonsang crumpled to the ground, unintentionally bringing yechan with him as well.  “oof.”

wonsang did not feel good.  he hadn’t before, and collapsing so suddenly threw him into what could almost be called a state of shock.  he could feel that his own eyes were open too wide, getting dried out, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that at the moment.  he scooted backwards until he could lean against a wall, then started wringing his hands, keeping them close to his chest.  a bad habit.

yechan was staring at him intently, saying something and waving a hand in front of his face, rubbing his arm - probably an attempt to ground him - but wonsang was struggling just to breathe.  he could feel things, but he couldn’t feel them, let alone hear whatever questions or reassurances yechan had for him.

“what happened?”  the very distinct timbre of sangyeop’s voice brought wonsang back a bit and he coughed, gasping for air and shuddering as his body processed it.  he looked up at sangyeop and saw that his eyes were cartoonishly wide as well.  “are you two okay?”

“i- i don’t know.  wonsang?  i’m sorry,” yechan said, almost pleading.  sangyeop put a comforting hand on yechan’s head before helping him to his feet, the vocalist quickly filling the spot on the ground next to wonsang and looking him over much more deliberately than yechan had.  yechan and wonsang both watched in silence, the prior filled with worry and the latter still a bit shellshocked.  sangyeop poked and prodded and gently bent joints and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“hey, bub,” he said to wonsang, taking his hands and massaging them.  preventing wonsang from accidentally injuring himself.  “you seem to be okay.  how are you feeling?”

and that was the end of wonsang’s composure.  his hands, numb and clumsy, fumbled around in search of sangyeop’s shirt.  upon finding it, wonsang puled the older boy into a limp but encompassing embrace and started sobbing loudly into sangyeop’s shoulder.  

he heard sangyeop sigh, but knew it was out of something like knowing compassion rather than disappointment.  “hey, what’s wrong, baby?  Is anything hurting?”

wonsang shook his head, unable to form words, but calmed his sobs to soft whimpers as sangyeop continued to pet his head. “i feel sick,” he said quietly.  sangyeop shifted and wonsang panicked, “hyung, please don’t- please don’t leave!”

sangyeop frowned.  “shhh, i won’t, baby, i promise.”

“b-but you’ll get sick, too?”  sangyeop was known to be the most health-conscious of the group.  usually, if someone was sick, he made a point of keeping his distance, so this response was somewhat surprising to not only wonsang, but also yechan, who was watching on with ever-increasing concern after leaving briefly to retrieve a bottle of water, as well.

“don’t worry about that, wonsangie.  as long as you’re okay, i’m okay.”  he pet the back of wonsang’s head for a minute before taking the water from yechan and offering it to the sick boy.  “can you drink some of this, baby?  just a little.”

wonsang made a face but complied, drinking a few sips before stopping abruptly.  “my meeting!”

it took sangyeop just a moment to catch on.  “yenevara?”

wonsang nodded, then winced at the way his head throbbed.  “we rescheduled because i was falling asleep yesterday…”

“i’ll call jihwan!”  yechan shouted, then immediately looked apologetic.  “sorry, sorry,” he amended, whispering now.  “i’ll cancel for you.”

at that, wonsang had to crack a smile.  loud and in-your-face was yechan’s default - it was cute seeing him make an effort to adjust right now.

“you’re calling jihwan?” gwangil stepped into the hallway, bedhead nothing short of glorious.  he stopped in his tracks. “wait.  what’s going on.”

wonsang felt his face heat up in embarrassment.  now that the shock had faded, the tears and the collapsing and the having to cancel all felt a little… shameful.  sangyeop squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring smile before turning back to their youngest.

“can you help me get wonsang to bed?  he’s not feeling well,” sangyeop replied calmly.

“ah, so that’s what was going on!”  gwangil wedged himself under wonsang’s arm and helped him to his feet.  “hyung, why didn’t you say something earlier?  i knew something was off.”

wonsang just shrugged, too tired and ill to explain himself, but gwangil didn’t seem to mind as they maneuvered back to the bedroom.  the bed felt 100 times nicer than the floor had, but that was, unfortunately, the only thing that felt good to wonsang at the moment.  his stomach felt about ready to crawl up his throat.

“we should’ve gone to the bathroom,” he whispered, all of about 3 minutes after being tucked in.  he hadn’t let go of sangyeop’s hand since, but now he did, suddenly requiring both of his own hands to cover his mouth as he gagged, eyes squeezed shut.  he heard sangyeop suck in a harsh breath, and then someone was helping wonsang sit up as he retched a second time.  he shuddered as he choked back vomit, only to lurch forward with a pained heave that forced his eyes to open and fill with tears.

“hey, it’s okay.”  yechan was here and had placed a bucket on wonsang’s lap.  wonsang’s eyes darted around the room.  “sangyeopie had to leave, bub.  you now how his stomach is.”  wonsang did know, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  his tears started spilling over as he breathed heavily through the nausea.

“hey, hey.  don’t cry, hyung.  he’ll be back before you know it.”  gwangil squeezed his shoulder.  wonsang opened his mouth to protest - he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was better this way, but still, he just wanted sangyeop - but his stomach didn’t give him a chance.  with a lurch he bent over the bucket and struggled to breathe through the mess of vomit that spilled from his mouth.  somehow, impossibly, the nausea increased and he retched desperately before bringing up more barf.  gwangil dabbed a wet rag against his skin and coolness of it was a small comfort.

“you’re okay,” yechan said sadly.  whispered.  yechan whispering twice in one day?  wonsang would have laughed if he didn’t feel so awful.  instead he shook his head.  he didn’t feel okay at all.  he squeezed yechan’s hand and doubled over to be sick again.  by then, there was very little left in his stomach and most of what came out was a the harsh sound of his throat trying to reject air.  it hurt, but he had no control over his body.  finally, a thin stream of bile splashed into the bucket and wonsang took a deep breath.  he nearly gagged again at the smell and turned his head away.

“are you done?”  gwangil asked quietly, immediately removing the disgusting bucket of sick when wonsang nodded.  he leaned heavily against yechan, grateful as the older boy stayed quiet and simply began petting his hair.  a moment after gwangil left, sangyeop returned, looking only a tad green.  tears sprung to wonsang’s eyes again.

“you left—“ his voice cracked.  sangyeop looked devastated.

“i know, baby, i’m so sorry.  i didn’t want to make a bigger mess…” he trailed off, lips curving up gently as wonsang pouted and made grabby hands at the older boy.  he slid into the small bed next to wonsang and cuddled up close.  “there,” he whispered.  “better?”

wonsang made an incomprehensible but clearly affirmative noise and sangyeop’s smile grew.  the sick boy was already asleep.  yechan started squirming under the weight of wonsang’s head, but a single glare from sangyeop stopped him.

“i can’t stay here forever!”  he whined softly, hands in the air.  gwangil, who had joined them at the foot of the bed, giggled.  yechan eyed him.  “what?”

“nothing, it’s just… you wouldn’t have let him lay on you in the first place if you didn’t mind it, hyung.  you’re a lot cuter when you’re pretending to be annoyed than when you actually are.”

yechan stuck out his tongue.  “just wait and see who’s annoyed when we all get sick, brat.”

sangyeop snorted.  “you two aren’t making any sense.”

and, well, they couldn’t really say anything to that.

——

*yenevara is a production team including jo/cho wonsang from LUCY, park jihwan (he recently did a cover of my favorite polyphia song on his insta and i—), and o.yeon (she’s so smol and so talented)

note: i don’t love the way this fic turned out, if i’m being honest, but i think it’s just a matter of getting used to writing for another group.  hopefully my next lucy fic turns out better XD

——

feel free to send asks!

[robinskey]

The Hair (Steve Harrington x Henderson! Reader)

When Steve “The Hair” Harrington started hanging around your little brother, you were skeptical, to say the least. Steve was always a jerk to you in high school. Like, always. He rarely spoke to you, but when he did, it was to make some comment about your wacky shoes or frizzy hair, which you could never keep under control. You’d seen the way he treated girls. It was the exact opposite of the way you wanted Dustin to act when he started dating. But you figured you had time to counteract Steve’s influence on your baby brother. After all, Dustin hadn’t ever really expressed a whole lot of interest in the opposite sex. Thus, it came as a big surprise when he returned home from summer camp, talking nonstop about his new girlfriend.

“Her name is Suzie,” Dustin told you the next morning at breakfast, shoveling a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “She’s Mormon, so her parents wouldn’t really approve of me-on account of the fact that I’m not Mormon and all. But she’s hotter than Phoebe Cate, and so nice, and, like, the smartest girl ever-ouch!”

Your mother eyed you suspiciously from behind her huge round glasses, but she didn’t question whether or not you had just delivered a sharp kick to your brother’s knee under the table.

“Hey, look, you’re smart, sis, but Suzie is, like, a genius.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “She’s as beautiful as Cindy Crawford, smarter than Einstein, and as real as my college acceptance letter.”

Dustin glared at you, his thick eyebrows furrowed into a unibrow. “I thought you got a rejection letter.”

“Exactly.”

It was your turn to receive a painful jab in the leg. He angrily stabbed the last piece of sausage on his plate and shoved it into his mouth. 

“She’s real,” he said with a mouthful of half-chewed food.

“I believe you, Dusty,” your mother piped up, reaching over to pat your brother’s arm.

“I don’t.”

With that, Dustin stood. His wooden dining chair protested with a screech against the dining room tile. Under his breath, he mumbled something about how Harvard would probably be knocking on Suzie’s door when she turned eighteen. Then, he stomped down the hall, slamming his door shut. Rock music started blaring almost immediately. 

“Real mature, Dusty!” you called after him.

As soon as you returned to your food, you felt your mother’s tear-filled eyes on you. 

“What, Mom? We both know she’s not real,” you said.

Your mother removed her glasses, setting them on the tablecloth in front of her. She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, then reached across the table for your hand. Her palms were calloused, wrinkly, and oily from excessive amounts of lotion. As it drifted up to your nostrils, the scent of sweet pea mixed with the odor of bacon grease.

“I know the last month has been tough for you, sweetie, but it’s been a rough year for Dustin. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while,” she said. Mom lowered her voice before adding, “Even if this girl is just imaginary, if she’s making Dusty smile again, isn’t that all that really matters?”

Jeez. Your mother knew exactly what to say to make you feel guilty.

That’s how, less than ten minutes later, you ended up at the door to your brother’s room, practically begging for forgiveness.

“Go away!” he screamed over the booming music.

“No. Not while you’re still mad at me,” you yelled back.

“Well, then you’re going to be standing there for a while.” Behind the door, you heard a few footsteps, and for a split second, you thought he might actually unlock the door. But then the already-eardrum-splitting volume of the music increased.

“Come on, Dustin,” you whined. “I didn’t mean it.” 

The lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody was the only response.

“Please, Dusty. You just got home. I don’t want to be fighting with you already,” you said, pressing your hand to the door. It vibrated with the beat under your palm. “I’ll take you to the mall if you want. We can get ice cream.”

Faint footsteps, then a slight decrease in the music’s volume.

“Can we go to Scoops Ahoy?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the only ice cream joint in Starcourt Mall, so yeah.”

The door swung open so fast that your balanced faltered, and you nearly fell forward. Your little brother beamed up at you with his not-so-toothy grin.

“Go get your wallet, loser.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Dustin held open the glass door to the little ice cream joint in the mall. You had already started rifling through your purse for change. Dustin could eat a lot, and he certainly wouldn’t worry about making a dent in your babysitting money. You were honestly just hoping you could make it out of there with enough to pay for the bus fare home.

As you entered the shop, the sound of children giggling mixed with the chime of the bell above your head. Though the nautical theme was a little obnoxious, the store had a cute aesthetic. Blue and white stripes lined the walls behind the backs of red booths. Once you walked in, it was a straight shot to the cash register. An off-white sign announcing all the ice cream flavors hung above a faux window. Two familiar faces were situated behind the tiled counter. The first was Robin, a freckle-faced girl and one of your fellow band geeks. She was chatting with a lanky boy in a hideous blue sailor’s shirt and a dorky white cap that smashed his infamous shiny locks. Even in such an out-of-character outfit, he was instantly recognizable. His eyes lit up when he saw your little brother.

“Henderson? Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you?”

“Steve!”

Your little brother completely forgot his manners and let the door go. You leaped forward, nearly avoiding getting hit as it swung shut. Dustin sprinted toward the counter, his blonde curls bouncing underneath his baseball cap. Steve practically leapt over the counter to greet him.

As you watched, they proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake in the world, then indulged in a bro-hug. 

“How have you been, man? I’ve missed you,” Steve said, his hands still resting on Dustin’s shoulders. He turned to his coworker. “Robin, get this kid a sundae, will you?” 

“I didn’t know your legs were broken, dingus,” Robin said, but she complied with his request, anyway.

“We have so much to catch up on,” Dustin said. He slid into the booth nearest to the cash register. 

“Yeah, we do,” Steve agreed, taking his place across from Dustin. “Did you have a good time at camp?”

“It was sick, dude. I ate so many s’mores while I was there…”

You walked up to the counter. You didn’t really know Robin well, but you certainly weren’t going to join Steve and Dustin.

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy,” Robin droned, her back to you as she poured hot fudge over a scoop of vanilla ice cream. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

You hummed in response. Behind you, Dustin had launched into his Suzie speech-about how she was Mormon, a genius, and hotter than Phoebe Cate. Steve, who you’d never seen with his mouth shut for more than thirty seconds at a time, appeared to be listening intently. He mumbled a few comments, and you strained your eardrums trying to catch them. What was “King” Steve saying to your baby brother?

Robin turned around a few seconds later, clutching a styrofoam cup. The sudden movement startled you so badly that you visibly jumped. Luckily, Robin was too preoccupied to notice. It took a great deal of focus to balance an overfilled ice cream cup.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” She set the ice cream on the counter.

“You know, just buying my brother’s love. The usual.”

Robin chuckled and called, “Order’s up!” Steve’s fluffy mane sprung into motion as he turned his head to face his coworker.

“What, you’re not going to deliver to our table?”

“They don’t pay me enough for that,” Robin said. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief. She turned back to you, a faint grin still dancing on her lips. “Sixty cents, please.”

You returned to the depths of your bag to search for loose change. You managed to scrounge up a few pennies before raising your head once more. 

Steve studied you with a curious gaze. He scrunched up his face in what could have just as easily have been confusion or disgust. Then, a visible “lightbulb” moment clicked in his head.

“You’re Dustin’s sister, aren’t you? Y/N Henderson?”

“That would be me,” you said. 

Your heart beat heavily against your ribcage. Did intense hatred upset the cardiac rhythm? You didn’t think so-but then again, you never paid much attention in Biology. Steve was partially to blame for that. It’s really hard to pay attention to Mr. Wilson lecture about the functions of the sympathetic nervous system when Steve “The Hair” Harrington sits in the desk right in front of yours, and all you can think about is running your fingers through those thick, shiny curls. Regardless of its owner’s personality, hair like that is impossible to avoid fantasizing about.

“Can I have my ice cream now?” your brother piped up, jolting you from your thoughts.

As you opened your purse, Steve pulled out his wallet. Your lips parted in protest. However, before you could say a word, he passed three dollar bills to the girl behind the counter.

“This should cover the kid’s,” Steve said, “and, of course, whatever the lady wants.”

“No, you don’t need to-”

“You’re Henderson’s sister. I want to,” he said. “Does a vanilla milkshake sound okay?”

You couldn’t conceal the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. 

“I prefer chocolate,” you said.

“Smart girl,” he said with a wink. “Make that two chocolate milkshakes, please, Robin. I’m going to take my break now so I can catch up with Henderson, okay?”

“I thought you’ve been on a break for the last ten minutes,” Robin said with a roll of her eyes. The cash register popped open, and she inserted the cash. She held the change in her palm for a few extra moments, studying it. “I could probably cover for you a little longer, though, if you let me keep this as a tip. I’ll even deliver to your table.”

“Deal,” Steve said. Robin tucked the coins into her pocket.

Steve grabbed Dustin’s sundae and returned to their booth; the Suzie conversation automatically resumed. Robin ducked into the back room to use the malt machine, and you watched as the translucent door swung shut behind her. You hoped she would return promptly to save you from the awkwardness of lingering around your little brother and his newfound mentor.

“Hey, Y/N, aren’t you going to come sit with us?” a voice asked behind you. 

Steve had swiveled around in the booth. His lips were curled upwards into a sweet, unexpectedly shy smile. Your heart skipped a beat, and your feet carried you to the table before your head could tell them to stop. You barely noticed your brother roll his eyes. 

“Scoot over, dork,” you ordered.

Dustin swirled his spoon around the cup, turning the pure white ice cream topped with dark chocolate into a light brown mixture. He was clearly unhappy with you infringing on his “guy time,” but he would get over it. Your brother huffed in protest before sliding to one side of the booth to make room for you.

“Anyway,” he sighed, once you were all settled, “before we were so rudely interrupted, where was I?”

“I think you were talking about how she was the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice her sooner,” Steve said, chocolate eyes still trained on you.

“Oh, right. So, it’s funny. There were so many campers there, and we were in different groups, so a week actually went by before I talked to Suzie for the first time…”

Dustin’s voice faded into the background. You were too busy thinking about how maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington didn’t suck quite as much as you once thought.

[infiniteshawn]

Since We’re Alone | 1

Phoebe Rose Bray wasn't a spontaneous woman. But when she drunkenly applied to become a seat filler six months prior, she hadn't been thinking about her internship or her god-awful boss, Margaret, or her starving bank account. She'd been feeling ambitious.

And that's why when she got the email regarding the Sixty-fourth Annual Grammy Awards, she huffed a rather annoyed sigh and silently accepted the invitation.

A massive turn of events, a tragic production slip-up, and a quick diversion led her exactly where she hadn’t intended on ending up: in front of millions of people, wrapped up in the arms of a pop sensation.

a/n: here it is. 1.6 k. new series, or so i think. we’re gonna see how this one goes first. feedback: appreciated

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Phoebe Rose Bray gave herself a one-over in her hotel bathroom, smoothing out her satin dress with her carefully manicured hands.

It wasn’t often that she travelled out of the country and it was far less often that she travelled alone. But when she drunkenly applied to become a seat filler six months prior, she hadn’t been thinking about her internship or her god-awful boss, Margaret, or her starving bank account. She’d been feeling ambitious.

And that’s why when she got the email regarding the Sixty-fourth Annual Grammy Awards, she huffed a rather annoyed sigh and silently accepted the invitation.

Phoebe began to understand the fuss about Los Angeles traffic when what should have been a ten-minute drive to the Staples Center turned into an hour-long road trip. Thank God Uber provided snacks.

It was more of a process than a celebration—for Phoebe, at least—and she was more interested in being assigned a seat than looking around for the faces of her childhood idols. Relieved to be inside with air conditioning and away from flashing cameras and hollering paparazzi, she settled into her seat and prayed to her lucky stars for a mediocre night.

The show was uneventful, for the most part. For the first half. As soon as the big categories began to surface, the crowd got antsy. From her spot at the back of the floor, Phoebe zoned in on the A-listers sitting closest to the stage, and it was clear they were shifting in their seats. Something was coming.

That something was Record of the Year, she deducted. She tried her best to focus on Justin Timberlake’s never-ending monologue about finally being able to host music’s biggest night, but the headset-wearing woman equipped with a clipboard was inevitable, and Phoebe knew where she was headed.

“You’re next,” the woman spoke, hastily yet quietly, “get ready.”

Phoebe kept a trained eye on the tops of people’s heads because she hadn’t memorized where each artist was sitting and it seemed like the only way she could possibly know where to go.

People came out—Katy Perry and some guy—to present the nominees. Phoebe straightened her spine and firmly planted her stiletto, preparing to jump up at any second. She reminded herself of the importance in being stealth, avoiding taking away from the artist’s acceptance speech because while this was their big moment, she was also contractually bound not to disturb the audience. Names were called. Snippets were played. An announcement was made. And before she knew it, Phoebe was silently power-walking toward the front of the arena, sitting her ass down in Lizzo’s still-warm folding chair.

The crowd had settled and she was giving a very animated speech about the song’s significance, and all Phoebe could focus on was the pointed boot almost touching her strapped-in-toes.

She was positive that the row of seven-or-so people sitting next to her were there together. Most of them muttered to each other during Lizzo’s speech, but the guy beside her was dead silent. He stared straight forward, face aimed directly at the stage. Phoebe could feel his brown eyes on her. She wondered if he was suspicious of her, or frowning upon the idea of seat fillers because maybe he believed that general audience members had no place up front. She never considered that the warmth engulfing her body wasn’t from her own embarrassment, but was instead radiating off of him.

The crowd broke into applause and they, together, realized that they, too, should probably be clapping. So they clapped. The show went on. And though neither of them said a word to the other, they were very aware of one another’s presence.

So much that Phoebe’s brain was running in circles, dreading the moment “Shawn Mendes” would be called as the winner of Album of the Year because he’d somehow have to wiggle past her, and she knew that with her luck she’d probably fall over. Her heart raced as she began debating whether she’d be standing with them in applause or remaining seated, and if she’d be shown on national television. It was all very much very fast and she didn’t even notice that Shawn was muttering under his breath in her direction.

“Psst,” she heard, and she turned in his direction quickly enough to give herself whiplash.

“What?” she whispered in a more offended tone than she’d hoped for. She just wasn’t expecting it.

“I said,” he spoke lowly, leaning in a little closer, “if it helps, I’m nervous too.”

“I’m n-”

“Yes, you are,” he cut her off, shooting her the million-dollar grin that was plastered on every billboard from New York to Tokyo.

He was ethereal. Phoebe knew that celebrities were ridiculously idealized in the media, and with the help of round-the-clock makeup artists and photoshop and endless reserves of cash, they were almost always eternally beautiful. But even this close up, with that damn curl hanging on his forehead, Shawn Mendes was inevitably gorgeous. She avoided his gaze.

“All I’m saying is,” he leaned in a little closer, and she was pretty sure she could feel his breath on her neck, “you can loosen up a bit. Sit back. Look around, no one’s looking at you,” he paused, allowed her to finally adjust to her surroundings, “except me.”

If she wasn’t blushing before, she was bright red now. She figured he would be like this—a womanizer, for the lack of a better term—but she never thought she’d fall victim to any of his one-liners.

Shawn clammed up when a uniformed-producer announced the final commercial break, and Phoebe sat in silence, unable to avoid eavesdropping on the group to her right.

“I’m not sure, man,” Shawn mumbled, leaning toward the suited guy beside him. Both of them were leaning forward, and Phoebe was able to make out the label on his seat. Andrew Gertler.

“Relax, Shawn,” the man she assumed to be Mr. Gertler spoke, “we’ve been here before. They’re either gonna recognize that you deserve it or they aren’t, and in both cases you need to remember that there’s a camera on you. Regardless of what you’re feeling, I need you to really sell it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn nodded, “just happy to be here. I know.”

“Good,” the man said before taking a sip of his water, “I have a good feeling, kid.”

Shawn didn’t respond. He took a deep breath and sunk back into his seat, watching intently as the rest of his team had a muffled conversation about the afterparty.

Phoebe picked at her cuticles until Shawn rubbed his massive hands together and muttered, “Showtime,” and Timberlake came out once again, thanking everyone for coming and prefacing some montage video of past Album of the Year winners.

She nudged his knee with hers. Shawn’s eyebrows shot up a bit, silently asking if the contact was intentional or if she was just a bit twitchy. She nudged him again.

“If it helps,” she whispered, neither of them looking at each other, “I’m nervous too.”

She couldn’t help but notice the tight-lipped grin creeping up his cheeks in her peripheral vision, and she knew that was just what he needed.

But the wave of comfort and confidence that had overcome Shawn didn’t last long, because the video was over and Pharrell Williams was standing before them, hastily reading through a list of eight album names as if these artists hadn’t put their absolute hearts and souls into each body of work.

A name was called. Phoebe wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but it didn’t belong to Shawn Mendes. The sinking feeling in his stomach somehow translated to her because she, too, felt it. Weightless.

Something was happening, though. The split-screen of nominees hadn’t focused-in on the winner as it usually would, and by some work of the devil it was displaying a massive live-video of Shawn’s face. And the heartbreak-with-a-hint-of-anger written all over it.

Neither Shawn nor his team had caught on to the technical slip-up, and the few seconds they were all on camera felt like hours to Phoebe. She was thinking at a million miles a second, debating tapping him on the shoulder or just saying something, anything, to bring his attention to his very-public negative reaction.

She knew this would be the big headline.

Unless she could make an even bigger one.

Without thinking long enough to convince herself otherwise, Phoebe twisted in her seat and faced the man she’d been so intimidated by for the last half-hour. His distraught eyes met her determined ones, and before he could resist, she muttered something along the lines of, “Just go with it,” and lunged at him, kissing him with everything she had.

Shawn froze and Phoebe panicked—had he not hit on her, this wouldn’t have even been a thought in her mind—but quickly, he melted into it. The gears began turning and her words had convinced him that she had a reason, supported by the way she kissed him with such purpose.

Her hand was on his jaw and his were in her hair, and while he refrained from slipping her the tongue for the sake of everyone watching at home, he still kissed her wildly.

Andrew was jostling Shawn’s arm. The cameramen had sorted their shit out. And Phoebe was up from her seat and running out of the arena faster than any of it had even happened.

taglist: @shxwnmxndess @sunriseshawn @jollybonkpatroldonkey @jesuscheistkaren @casuallycoolcloud @sinplisticshawn @deafeningdeanhoagieturtle @rosieblondie @hannahlouiseee @change-perspective13 @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @calthesensation @livsalzy

[seijch]

send me selfship questions!!

for @raevaioli because i wrote too much the first time and didnt have space to answer everything else 🧍🏻‍♂️

(there’s a lot of shit under the cut NDJKDKS be Warned)

1. where was your first date?

well, youve already heard about the first date that we realized was indeed A Date with futakuchi, but my first Proper Date with him would have to be somewhere like an arcade where we can have fun but still talk?? personally movie (theater) dates aren’t good first dates bc you Have to stay silent until the movie is over?? what’s the APPEAL...

there’s a shared exhale of relief as the large stuffed pokemon gets dropped by the crane into the pickup zone. “i can’t believe you pulled that off,” i tell him.

“you know, just for that, i’m keeping it.”

“you don’t even like pokemon! what happened to ‘this one’s for you, baby?’” i ask, voice dropping an octave to imitate him.

“i never said that, first of all. second of all,” he continues, grip tightening on the rowlet, “i won it. so it’s mine.”

“you fucking suck.”

(he says all this, yet when he drops me off, he insists i take the rowlet with me and name it after him. i graciously oblige, dubbing it coochie jr.)

when it comes to kuroo, he probably Says it’s some kind of unplanned affair but it ends with him unloading a picnic basket as we watch the sun set bc he’s a SAP... hate that fool 😔

“you’ve got good taste in music,” i tell him as the next song on his playlist begins. he’s definitely planning something, but i don’t say anything as his driving becomes less aimless.

“oh, i know,” he grins. “good enough for you to ask me for recommendations, i’d say.”

i’m crossing my arms before his sentence gets to finish. “listen,” i start, “you can’t tell me it didn’t work. we’re together now, aren’t we?” he doesn’t choose to grace that with a response.

before we know it, kuroo’s parked the car. “we’re here.”

“here? at the park? what are you gonna do, hold my hand while we watch the sunset?” i tease, getting out of the car. he doesn’t respond. “tetsu?”

“you really think you know me, don’t you?” he appears from the other side, picnic basket in hand and a resigned smile on his face. “what do you suggest we do now that my surprise has been torn to shreds, hm?”

“i mean...can we still eat? i’m kinda hungry.” i point to the basket. (i’m clearly deflecting ,, i was Not expecting kuroo the simp to jump out so early and my heart Cannot Take It)

2. who normally plans the dates?

between me and futakuchi i’m going to say none of us! we don’t really go on Dates dates, it’s just Us Hanging Out !! with kuroo, at first it’s him tbh but after we get comfortable everything becomes a date... idk tbh i’m not the type to sweat that kind of thing 🕺🏻 i do like to Go Out and do things w my s/o no matter who they are but a date doesn’t always have to be going out nor does it have to be a Special going out yk??

3. what kind of dates would you two mostly go on? do you have a “date spot?”

i mentioned this in my answer for 24, but w kuchi we have this ritual of going out to eat every friday and after we get together that doesn’t change!!! if we’re feeling extra lazy we might order takeout but we always always spend our friday nights together... it’s def smth we look forward to even Before we start dating (and it’s smth we both wonder Why we anticipate before we get tgt)

in terms of a date spot? we have our favorite places (like the ramen joint i mentioned in 24) but other than that maybe a few other restaurants and that’s kinda it! our other dates are the occasional study date but i cannot study when he’s around,, just looking at his face pisses me off 😃 nah but we can’t focus on school together + we’d get heated over a meaningless argument and get kicked out NDNSJSJ

when we get domestic w each other (like in uni or beyond) kuroo and i have all our dates at the grocery store... idk abt you but the INTIMACY of buying groceries w someone you love is so [clenches fist] yk?? but before and sometimes after that point rlly it’s like Things To See and Things To Do whenever kuroo puts himself in charge of planning it bc he knows we both like to be engaged and have fun!! (i alr said it but our date spot is the grocery store <3)

4. what kind of date do you think the both of you would enjoy the most? why?

that’s a very good question... i mentioned it alr but kuroo and i vibe heavy w things that are engaging and give us things to talk about while we keep busy,, like maybe an amusement park or smth w all the rides (we’re definitely spinning the shit out of the teacups) mostly bc i think he likes being kept on his toes and i do too! i think we’d challenge each other to do better by setting an example for the other to follow just in general,, also ngl places w a lot of ppl are good too so we can peoplewatch,, the two of us are the type to read people with a glance and when we need downtime we’d sit down somewhere and just kinda . 👁👁 yk

“i might barf,” i announce, gait crooked from the dizzying ride.

“no, you won’t,” kuroo replies, allowing me to drape myself over him though he’s not walking straight either. “didn’t you hear? vomitting is banned in this country and thirteen others.”

“a shame. anyway, let’s go on the pirate ship ride next.”

(we sit at the outer edge. it’s not a good time for the folks in the two seats in front of us. we wipe our vomit—mostly my vomit—from the corners of our mouths and apologize profusely.)

when it comes to kuchi, i think he’d like smth where we would end up competing against each other! i mentioned this when i answered question 50, but kenji and i are almost TOO competitive over stupid shit so smth like laser tag (where everyone is like ... why don’t you want to work together aren’t you DATING) would be SO fucking fun

“it’s not too late to surrender,” he simpers, my body sandwiched between his and the wall. my gun’s been knocked out of my hand—that’s gotta be against the fucking rules—and part of me feels like i’m on a real battlefield, as fleeting the thought is. “some battles, you just can’t win.” he punctuates this statement with a sage nod, leaning so close his breath fans against my face. “so, what’ll it be?”

i close the gap, pressing my lips against his and relishing in the strangled groan that comes from the back of his throat as he reciprocates, free hand moving to the nape of my neck. the hand holding the gun drops. that’s all the opening i need.

i let him deepen the kiss, take his bottom lip between my teeth and gently tug as my hands reach for his gun while his brain is still between his legs.

aim. fire.

i’m the last one standing, and the lights turn on around us. “it’s always good to have goals,” i tell him, granting him a consolation peck to the lips. “but i suggest making them more realistic next time.”

9. what do you think your first impression of them would be?

now THIS is a question i knew the answer to going in bc my best friend (honestly she doesn’t get paid enough ,, or at all ,, for all the shit she has to put up w from me NDNSKSK) had to hear all abt my elaborate fantasies regarding these two but!!

my first impression of kuroo is 1) 😳😳 and more importantly, 2) I Want To Know What He’s About... bc he’s not the kind of person i’d get the full picture of w just one look and maybe a few words spoken? he’d pique my interest a LOT (and this is smth he shares w tsukishima, tho i don’t see myself in a long lasting relationship w him like i do w kuroo and kuchi!) and i’d end up worming my way into his life whether he likes it or not until i find out :-)

unlike kuroo i see kenji and go Wow. What An Asshole. ok no i don’t NDNSJSN i probably think he’s cute first THEN go what an asshole and there’s definitely a long period of time where we’re genuinely getting on each other’s nerves before it goes into the romantic relationship-adjacent dynamic you see in my answer to 24!

10. what do you think their first impression of you would be?

kuroo’s definitely curious. i don’t imagine him being unable to see thru me from the start but i prove myself to be Good Conversation so he’s fine (and ends up being more than fine) with me bothering him as much as i do. kenji probably sees me the way i think most people see me at first? very soft and sweet ,, and then he tries to rile me up, tries to test the waters and pretty quickly finds out that right under the nice girl is someone that won’t hesitate to mirror the shit he tries to dish out.

(again) 24. would you confess first or would they? how would it have gone?

i saw you said in the tags you wanted to see the kuroo one so here it is 🤝 i had all my fun writing kenji’s so this one is shorter than that but!!!

NDNSNSN anyway !!! with kuroo it’s kinda 50/50 bc i’m not shy when it comes to my feelings but at the same time i like to have the lowest chances possible for failure when it comes to things like this... but i simp SO heavy for him so lbr it’ll prob be me just bc i literally Cannot pretend that my intentions are platonic anymore and he’s not gonna do it first (later i find out he was trying to see how long he could go before one of us mentioned the elephant in the room)

(5:38 PM) me: anyway for the weekly song rec

(5:38 PM) me: khalid ft. john mayer - outta my head

(5:39 PM) me: specifically 1:16-1:25 :-)

the messages have sent before i can think twice or even consult anyone about it. there’s a beat of silence. then two. then three. i throw my phone down onto the bed as it bounces off the mattress and onto the carpet.

what the fuck!!!!!! bitch why did you do that!!!!!!!

there’s no taking it back now. he reads it ten minutes after it sends (not like anyone’s checking, that would be preposterous). the picture i took of him mid-sneeze two months ago lights up the screen, a facetime call from shithead 👺 bringing me to yet another crossroads. do i answer it and face the music (literally), or do i pretend to have been busy and act as though i didn’t just confess to one of my best friends through text and with music, of all things?

i pick up the call.

“i liked the song,” he says as soon as the call opens, “though i can’t help but wonder if there was a hidden meaning to it.”

“and if i told you there was?”

“well,” he replies, sounding a little out of breath (where is he?), “i’d tell you to open your door because i’m outside.”

true enough, when i race downstairs and open the door, he’s waiting for me. “and if i told you that was my way of asking you to be my boyfriend?”

“well, i think i’d want to ask if i could kiss you. assuming, of course, it was alright to do something like that so soon-“

he doesn’t finish his sentence. his lips are a little bit chapped, but pleasant nonetheless, and i tuck the newfound fact away in my file of things i know about kuroo tetsurou.

(for reference, the song lyrics for the part i mention are can you feel the tension / you’ve got my attention / i know we’re just friends but / i’d rather be together instead)

[sportsandbachelorthings]

The Present

(A Tyler Seguin Fanfiction)

TWO

A/N: Hope you liked that last part! Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner will be making an appearance in this chapter! 

1,749 Words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol use

ENJOY!!!

By the second period you were having a blast, you were cheering on the Leafs and even made friends with the guys behind you. If you were being honest with yourself you weren't even mad at Tyler anymore, the past was the past, you just wanted it to stay that way. However every time Tyler went past you or near you, you could feel his eyes on you.

 “So there's gonna be an after party tonight at Tyler’s apparently both teams are gonna be there because tomorrows and off day. Do you wanna go?” Brea says looking at you. 

Smiling at her you respond with “That’s sounds like fun” 

It was now the third period and the Stars were winning by two, there hadn’t been a lot of fights tonight but the tension was getting thick. You were watching Auston Matthews intently as he had the puck and was just about to attempt a slap shot towards the goal, when Tyler slammed right into him, causing him to stumble. Auston turned around glaring at Tyler, a conversation was happening between them but you couldn't make out what was being said. You must have glanced away for a minute because when you looked back Tyler was taking an upper cut right to the mouth. Jamie Benn and Mitch Marner skated over to break it up, pulling them apart. Tyler made eye contact with you as he skated towards the penalty box with a busted lip. 

The Stars ended up winning and you were on your way to the parking lot when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Ex Fiance: I miss you and I want you to come back home. 

You stop abruptly staring down at your phone re reading the text over and over again. With your finger hovering over the respond button you contemplate what to say back or if you should even respond at all. Helping you decide Brea comes over and takes your phone from you.

“It’s for the best.” she says. 

You nod at her and give her a quick hug “Thanks, just keep it all night, i’m done with dealing with him.”

When you get to Tyler’s your shocked by how big his house is, there’s already wall to wall people everywhere. Walking into the kitchen you find the liquor pouring you and Brea a shot. 

“Cheers to new beginnings!”  you shout so she can hear you over the loud music. 

You take another shot and grab a beer from one of the many coolers sitting around, you follow Brea into what looks like a man cave, there's a beer pong match going on and people are gathered around watching, you don't recognize the guys playing that are up against two girls. Feeling someone next to you you turn to look at them, its Auston Matthews, he looks you up and down and smirks at you.

“I need a partner for the next game, you in?” he asks grinning.

“I’m in, who are we playing against?” Just as the words leave your mouth you hear a familiar voice.

“Me and Brea will play.” It comes from Tyler with a now swollen lip who’s staring at you so intently its like hes burning a hole through your body.

You and Auston are on one side of the table with Tyler and Brea across from you. Tyler and Auston rock paper scissors for who goes first, Auston wins and lets you throw first. Taking the ping pong ball from his hand you focus on the cups and aim at one throwing the ball and sinking it into a cup. Auston turns to you giving you a high five and taking his shot sinking his into a cup. You double high five laughing at each other, you look at Tyler and can tell he isn’t happy as him and Brea take sips out of their cups. You and Auston keep making shots, Mitch has now come to stand next to you as you keep playing, Brea and Tyler only have two cups left. Auston goes first this time making the shot, you stare at the final cup lift your arm and let it go. It goes in and you win the game. Auston picks you up in his arms spinning you around, when he puts you down you notice Tyler is nowhere in sight.

Dancing with Auston and Mitch is the most fun you've had in a long time, making you forget about everything, Brea is off doing her own thing somewhere with some of the single Stars players. Your sandwiched between Mitch and Auston dancing with them, Auston has his hands on your hips while Mitch is kinda just there. You never thought you’d be attracted to Auston, you were only trying to piss Tyler off by wearing his jersey, you didn’t think you’d actually meet him yet alone be grinding up against him. Resting your head on his shoulder while continuing to dance with him you felt his warm breath on your neck giving you goosebumps, his hands moved from her hips up to your stomach going under your jersey, grazing the skin right above the waistband of your leggings. Opening your eyes standing up straight you realized Mitch was gone and that you couldn’t do this with Auston, he didn't give you butterflies or make you feel like you were the only two in the room, the only person who did that to you was somewhere in this house and you had to find him. Turning towards Auston you looked at him and mouthed the words “Sorry” before walking away.

You were intoxicated but not to the point to where you couldn’t make responsible decisions. You were walking through the living room to get to the kitchen in search of Brea or Tyler, you heard Brea’s giggles before you saw her. 

“Hey there you are” Brea giggled throwing her arms around you. The guys around her were staring so you pulled her to the side.

“I need your help finding Tyler” you say

She looks at you with wide eyes, hands you a shot, you take the shot and pulls you toward the staircase.

Brea leads you up the stairs to the end of the hall to a shut door. She knocks hearing nothing then opens the door for you pushing you inside. The room is dark but you make out a big bed in the center of the room, it has to be Tyler’s room, it smells just like you remember him smelling.

“You stay in here and ill bring Tyler to you!” She says excitedly

Turning the light on you walk toward the bed and sit down. You sit there thinking about what your gonna say to him, you really shouldn’t have taken that last shot, maybe you should just leave. You stand up walking towards the door, your about to grab the handle when the door swings open hitting you right in the face hard. You instantly feel blood coming from your nose, you raise your hand to your face and look at Tyler panicked. Tyler pulls you into what you assume is the bathroom and guides you to sit on the counter, grabbing a washcloth he runs it under the water and moves your hand to hold it on your nose.

“Holy shit Y/N, i’m so sorry. Brea told me you were up here but i didn’t think you’d be standing by the door.”

You stare at him “I was going to go back downstairs, i don't even know why i came up here Tyler.” 

You push off the counter to stand up but Tyler doesn’t budge. 

“I don't need your help, it's just a little blood.” you say as you turn to look in the mirror.

There's blood all over your hand, you remove the washcloth to find your nose still bleeding and swollen. Leaning in closer you notice your left eye is puffy and turning black and blue. You turn back to look at Tyler. 

“Um i think maybe i need ice.” you say as you try to stand up again.

Tyler nodded his head. “You should go lie down, i'll go get ice.”

You go to lay down on Tyler’s bed and close your eyes, still holding the washcloth to your nose. You must have drifted off because when you open your eyes Tyler is sitting next to you staring at you holding an ice pack. You sit up quickly taking the ice from him and replace the washcloth with it, then lay back down.

“Thanks.” you say quietly closing your eyes. “Give me like ten minutes then i'll be leaving.”

Tyler stands up and walks over to turn the light off. “Take as much time as you, I can stay in the guest room tonight, you and Brea take this room.” he says as he walks out the bedroom door closing it behind him.

You wake up the next morning to snoring, you roll over to find Brea sleeping next to you. Sitting up you check your phone that Brea must have sat on the nightstand, it's only nine am. Standing up too fast you get a little dizzy and sit back down, you have a mild headache and your face is hurting, then you remember what happened last night. You didn't even want to go look in the mirror but you did anyway, you had dried blood around your nose and it was black and blue, your left eye looked like someone had punched you. This was just great. Walking back into the room you shook Brea awake. 

“Can we please go?” you asked. She sat up and stared at your face. “Holy shit, I didn't think it was that bad.” Brea said hopping out of bed and grabbing her things. Neither one of you bothered getting dressed, your jerseys were long enough to cover everything.

“I don't want a run in with Tyler.” Tiptoeing out of the room and down the stairs you made it safely to the first floor. The house was quiet and cleaned already, no one was around so you both hurried out the door. Getting in the passenger side you let Brea drive your jeep as you laid back and closed your eyes you kept picturing Tyler’s concerned face after he hit you with the door on accident. Maybe you would talk to him sometime this week but today wasn’t the time, you had to figure out your feelings first.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Into the Void

So. Chapter 1 of the bodyswap to the death AU is here. I can’t lie, this one has a lot of setup. Sorry about that. The next chapter is going to be much more exciting. It centers around Allison, and my Allison is pretty twisted.

Also, I’ve decided to do this as a sequel to Defining Memories so that the group will have a reason to know the first thing about each other. Don’t worry if you haven’t read it, though, all the information you’d need from it is made clear in chapter 1.

Chapter 2 should be out be Friday at the latest. I know that weeks is a long time to dwell on a comedy AU, but I want to finish this and can only write so fast.

---

It was 7:00 pm on a Sunday evening when Joey Drew found himself pulled straight out of his regular life and into a purple, mystic void. Strangely enough, this wasn’t the first time this had happened: about two months ago, he and twelve of his employees had been gathered into a void just like this, then allowed to leave once they had watched each others’ memories.

This was different, though. Then, well, the mystic void had seemed a little much, but Joey had been expecting some supernatural events. You could even say he’d unleashed them. Now? Joey was clueless, and his heart was like a lead hammer pounding at his chest. What had he done?

“What’s going on, Joey?” a voice asked. He turned to see that it was Henry, and the other eleven people from last time were there, too, looking confused and, in most cases, worried. Joey’s throat was so tight that wasn’t sure he could speak. “We’re just here to watch more memories, right?”

Just then, a maniacal laughter emanated from all around them, loud and high-pitched.

Oh, absolutely not! The void mocked. It was jaunty and garbled and high-pitched. I paid you my favour, and you didn’t pay me back. And you didn’t put me away properly, either. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do: now that you all know each other a bit, we’re going to play a game. You hear?

“Joey, get us out of here!” Sammy yelled. There was fear evident in his voice. “Do it. You know how, right?”

Joey stared vacantly into the void as it laughed and laughed at them.

No one here is getting away until you entertain me. Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to take your souls, and put em’ in random bodies. And you’ll want to keep up the performance of being whoever you’re supposed to be, because at the end of the week, you’ll all get a chance to guess each others’ identities. Anyone who can guess more identities than their identity was correctly guessed will be put back into their bodies. Anyone else, the voice giggled, DIES! I’ll give you all, hmm... about two minutes to work out the practicalities. Bye-bye!

The thirteen people got a good look at each other, perhaps so they’d recognize who they were five minutes from now. Strangely, the strongest reactions in the room seemed to be nervousness and stunned shock, most likely because the reality of such a bizarre scenario hadn’t sunk in yet.

After a while, Thomas spoke up on the practicalities of the situation. “Alright. Here’s what I propose we do,” Thomas said, trying to sound perfectly calm. He wanted nothing more than to wring Joey’s neck, but now was not the time. “Let’s all write any important information about how to handle each other’s lives on pieces of paper and leave them taped to our own lockers, or offices, or whatever it is we have. That can include any meds we have to take, how to interact with family members, details about work, whatever. Alright?”

Allison’s sobs were the only answer.

Thomas blinked, and the next thing he knew, he was still hearing those same sobs, albeit in a somewhat deeper voice, but he was in an apartment he didn’t recognize and looking at the face of Sammy Lawrence. Looking down at his own hands, he saw very thin arms coated in inky black gloves.

“Oh, Sammy, what’s wrong?” Thomas cooed in the girliest, most sympathetic tone he could muster. The game had begun.

The next day, the thirteen took to their roles. Thomas hated his new body. Susie hadn’t been kidding about not producing body heat because she was made of ink, and he was freezing cold whenever he was outside of her well-heated apartment. On the plus side, the note said that Joey Drew had her scheduled to do some bit parts for an upcoming episode because he hadn’t been able to find a replacement voice actress yet, so at very least he wouldn’t have to do her usual performances and meet-and-greets as Alice Angel. He barely knew a thing about this studio’s characters, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sing.

Sammy didn’t mind being Allison too much. He could sing. He had a feeling that living with “Thomas” wouldn’t be such an issue, either. While he was experimenting with his new singing voice the night before, Sammy caught “Thomas” bundling up in a heavy sweater and heading out to stargaze in the crisp night air. “He” walked so delicately when he thought no one was watching, and the way he was holding “his” arms to his heart- there was no doubt about it. This was Susie rediscovering life in a human body. He even caught her feeling her pulse, unaware that she was being watched. It crushed Sammy’s heart to see, but at least he’d figured out an identity.

Allison didn’t like Sammy, and not just because of the air of snobbery she got from him, or all the contemptuous looks he gave to Tom. By his memories, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d had a part in Susie’s death and rebirth. Now that she had his body, well, she’d figure out a way to make things even. She knew she would. And in the meantime, there were certain ways that she planned on taking advantage of it.

Bertrum had ended up the body of the lyricist, Jack Fain. He supposed there were worse things- writing song lyrics sounded like something he could learn. He, like many of the other players, had to ask where his office was. To his dismay, he learned that he had no office: he usually worked in the sewers. Was there anyone in this company who wasn’t either incompetent, a psychological mess, disrespectful, or massively lacking in self-respect? Worse, he had no idea where to put his note, since, as Bertrum could work out ride designs at home and only ever came in occasionally to check on the Bendyland workers or meet with Joey Drew, he had no office or locker. He had to find whoever was piloting his body so he could tell them about the dinner party with the Georgian investors on Thursday evening and make sure they didn’t ruin it. Thus, Bertrum found himself working as close to Bendyland as he could without setting off anyone’s radar, hoping to catch a glimpse of himself.

On the other hand, Jack didn’t mind being Bertrum. He worried about how things were going with his husband and adoptive kids, of course, and the situation was scary in general, but at least his form put him at an advantage. This way he would have an excuse to interact with “Lacie” for as long as he needed to in order to figure out her identity, and wouldn’t need to interact with too many other participants of the game. He could focus on designing attractions that weren’t rides, since he had no mechanical knowledge, and keep his profile down for the week, and he would be just fine, he hoped.

Norman was relatively unafraid. He was Shawn- more or less a best-case scenario. Shawn’s job didn’t require much skill, and he was gregarious enough that it wouldn’t be out of character to interact with almost any of the players. Plus, from years of watching from the shadows, Norman knew almost everyone’s secrets- this was a bloody game and Norman took no joy in that, but it was his game.

Shawn was Lacie. Okay, someone he knew well and who wouldn’t interact with other players much. A fair deal. He could handle this. Thankfully, she had been outside when the transformation had occurred, so no one who knew her personally heard Shawn’s existential screams.

Lacie barely knew Norman beyond his reputation for watching people and rarely talking, but he seemed pretty easy to pretend to be. She had to ask a coworker what her job was, and almost laughed when she got the answer. Much of it was sitting high and mighty above the recording studio, which periodically contained four of the players of the game. She’d been terrified at first, but all things considered, she’d have to really screw up to lose this game.

Joey also thought he had a good deal, playing Henry. Joey knew Henry so well, and already knew wife and his children (they loved their uncle Joey). Heck, Joey had even envied Henry’s home life. And Joey knew how to draw, and how to put on a persona. It seemed like a best-case scenario! That was, until it was ten a.m. and Joey was sick to death of drawing. Henry had an ability to do repetitive work for hours that Joey quite simply lacked, and Joey found himself without an excuse to visit anyone. Often, during his first day, he would just walk somewhere where he knew other players would be, and just stand there, watching, hoping for a clue to anyone’s identity. It was a very un-Henrylike thing to do, but at least it wasn’t Joeylike, either. He was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be guessed for it.

Henry, in the meantime, was thrilled to be Joey. He’d worried himself to the point of vomiting the night before, thinking about how he’d have to contribute to the deaths of others for a chance to see his family again. But now, he was planning- working out misguided, Joeylike decisions that would test the nature of the players, starting with the music department. He was ready to do anything to secure his life, and being someone this powerful could only help.

Grant was in full-on panic the second he was out of the void, and the noise from that brought over a somewhat familiar-looking golden retriever to lick his shaking hand in concern. Grant had moved to another room and shut the door to keep the retriever out. It had startled him enough that he’d almost struck it, and he had no intention of hurting someone else’s pet. As soon as he came down from panic, he realized where he was: Wally’s home. Alright. This could be worse. All he had to do was clean the studio and pretend to be goofy and energetic. For a whole week. He hoped he could keep it up that long.

Wally wasn’t faring much better. He knew he couldn’t handle the studio’s finances, and he didn’t know anything about Grant. Since it had been so long, Wally couldn’t even seem to remember Grant’s memories. The note he’d been left didn’t help. Most of it was pretty mundane: the first two bullet points were about where he kept his medications and a list of scheduled meetings. The next one read,

Do not get help with my job. I have a reputation to maintain. At least, don’t get help with anything too simple.

Not exactly what Wally wanted to hear, but still a clear message. The next point, however, was a lot more cryptic.

Expect a visit at 10 a.m. on Monday. Have the second folder in my filing cabinet (the blue one) out. Have the door closed.

Well, it was 10 a.m., and Wally did have the folder out and the door closed. He heard someone twist the door handle. “Slide it under the door.” Came a deep, gravely, and very artificial-sounding voice.

Wally tried opening the door, but whoever was on the other side of it was holding it shut. Knowing that he needed to find at least one identity to stay alive, he pulled harder, but whoever was on the other side of it was much stronger than him.

“Don’t even think about it. I know exactly who you are, and if you open this door, I will tell the other eleven. Just slide that folder under the door, and keep the door closed for five minutes afterwards.”

Slowly, carefully, Wally obeyed. On the other side of the door, Grant picked up the folder and backed away slowly. He felt sorry for whoever he’d threatened, but these forms needed to be complete before the end of the week, and he was quite sure that Joey would kill him if they weren’t done properly. The second he was around the corner, he collapsed against the wall in relief. Hopefully this would be the most ridiculous thing he’d have to do this week.

“There you are, Wally,” a voice came.

Grant quickly hid the folder behind his back. “Thomas! Uh, hi!” Was that how Wally greeted Thomas? He hoped so.

“Uh, hi. So, your note probably said something about how I’m supposed to teach you to maintenance the ink machine.” Indeed, it had. “Well, that would be pretty useless, now wouldn’t it? Listen, I’ll promise not to try to figure out your identity if you can answer me this: do you know anything about machinery?”

Grant had worried that being caught ten feet from his office would have been a dead giveaway. Maybe “Thomas” was just that desperate. “Sorry, no,” he said.

“Okay,” “Thomas” said. “Guess I’ll just have to teach him next week. Best of luck not dying.” Susie left, making sure to walk heavily, as Thomas would have. She’d just have to make sense of Thomas’ instructions on her own. Maybe calling GENT or getting some books on machine maintenance from the library would help. One week. She had to keep the ink machine, whose pipes and various machinery extended from one end of the studio to the other, in one piece for one week, plus keep up with the pipe installations Joey had wanted. Plus find at least two identities (she wasn’t sure how long she could hide her true colours from “Allison”), and keep her own hidden so that she could survive.

This was going to be a week.

[artificialqueens]

learning to be silent (multi) — chapter one - Roza

[ summary ] : figure skating is a tough sport and the reality of the situation is beginning to hit the fan for all the skaters: old and new as grand prix qualifications begin and winter olympic prep is upon them, some crack under the pressure while some are simply happy to be living their passion in full throttle. ( figure skating au )

[ author's note ] : this is a figure skating au and not a yoi au btw!!! I think the show is great, this is just its own original thing and has nothing to do with the show, hope y'all enjoy and the world and tags will definitely grow as chapters progress, have to give a shout-out to @freykitten on tumblr who really helped me develop some good concepts !! enjoy xx — lily.

AO3 / My Tumblr / (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

— ✧*。

"Again!"

Shea shook her head, feeling a deep sense of disbelief run through her veins as she adjusted the sleeves of her jacket as she pulled down her black leggings to her Edea skates, making sure to hit her leg and have it tightly fit, her and Trinity consistently argued on the ice, even in competition season, if pulling your leggings down to your skates really have you the look and attraction of longer legs.

Her skate's lifted off the ice as she circled around the center of the rink, unable to focus with Grand Prix qualifications starting soon, she had qualified her way through which with American skating being so overcrowded and packed with talent, wasn't easy.

"Don't get in your head girl, you have to be in France next week." Trinity spoke up from the sides of the rink, leaning against Detox who stood with her arms crossed, rubbing her partner's shoulders even though she wore Detox's own lavendar jacket with her initials engraved that Alaska had bought her when they made it to the senior team. "Shea, don't be so tense just wait until the Olympic qualifications in a few months for that, stop stressing!"

The Chicago native gave a thumbs up to indicate she was listening but truthfully, how could she? Internationaux de France this year was a complete madhouse and was considered the blood bath qualifying round of the season. That damn paper had so many suprisingly good rookies and seasoned professionals it physically made Shea sink into their break room couch when she found out on the livestream her and Trixie watched from their training rink.

Internationaux de France Entries (Ladies) :

—

Australia: Courtney Act

Canada: Brook Lynn Hytes

China: Yuhua Hamasaki

Norway: Thorgy Galligan

Russia: Jinkx Monsoon, Sasha Velour

Spain: Shuga Cain

USA: Shea Couleé, Aquaria Coady, Adore Delano

—

"Shea, get into position, please." Bob spoke up, her coach spoke up as she got back to her spot near the rink, watching closely though the frustration building on her skater's face was visible as can be and she bitterly groaned, "Yes, I know, got it!"

Bob frowned seeing Shea so abrasive, it wasn't like her to lash out even in small doses unless someone really was pissing her off and deserved it or she was stressed: Bob knew it was the latter and didn't take it too personal considering what an athletic ball of energy she was when she was still a competitive skater.

"Play!" She instructed to Detox who nodded and pressed play on the phone, already hooked up to the rink's speakers and ready to use.

Shea had begged, had pleaded, had absolutely driven Bob to madness since her junior years to finally use Moulin Rouge as her long program music, her short program was strong as is but they always stuck a bit more traditional in that route but the long program was completely and utterly her own choice of style and music, as long as her coach approved which she luckily, finally did.

"Bitch, I always wanted to do Sparkling Diamonds, this ain't fair!" Trinity moaned about as Detox snickered, holding her hand as they stood watching intently. Trinity trained with Bob since her junior years but Detox was simply here for support and a visit, the American skaters usually mixed and mingled with eachother's rinks, not too serious when competition was overwhelming.

Shea breathed in deeply, a cross across her chest before she felt the music in her, she knew the song for years and years, as if she didn't completely obsess over the musical when she was a teenager, it seemed to come truly full circle once her competition dress had been designed and sent to her: it was stunning, completely stoned with crystals as most dresses were and had impeccable craftsmanship, short sleeved and looked just like a reimagining of Madonna's iconic "Material Girl" outfit which is what Shea was going for.

Pink, White and Iridescent shimmers, it definitely helped her gain some momentum with the song.

Being a senior for over five years had taught her a lot, she had won two international competitions, won over ten national ones and somehow managed to beat Katya Zamolodchikova, Russia's IT girl for a silver medal in Worlds though it was now retiree and coach, Morgan McMichaels who took gold, her biggest achievement since she hadn't qualified for the Olympics yet.

Her main goal of the season was to finally get that damn quad down, all the Russian juniors could do it yet eighty percent of all Senior skaters couldn't, it was both incredible and terrifying.

Some of the girls she knew personally in good and in bad ways, she loved Adore and knew Bianca was always a coach to take in advice from, Aquaria was just entering her first season as a senior but everyone had known her for years, she was Sharon's daughter after all and Sharon Coady was the absolute beacon of hope when it came to coaches, she was the coach international girl's wanted.

Courtney and Brooke were all business and bustling with talent though Courtney had a reputation in the sport as someone who couldn't keep a secret or go one competition without complaining about bias judging, Brooke was simply serious and didn't like to speak too much in interviews and kept to herself which Shea could respect.

Sasha she knew of extremely well. She was stunning, Shea was jealous of how one girl could possibly be so damn beautiful and intelligent. She had been watching her in senior competition's since she became a part of the Russian senior team at 16, she could do just about every trick in the book but everyone watched her for her style and how beautifully she portrayed a story on ice. She was the one to beat along with Katya (who was always fiercely competition) and almost all the Russian girls.

Focusing on her triple axel she skated forward waiting for the cue of the music, attempting to stay completely engulfed in character before slamming her toe pick and jumping, rotating and landing backwards as she glided, arms open. Judging by Trinity's loud scream she either did incredible or underrotated it yet again.

She finished on a high note with claps from Detox and Trinity, Bob gesturing her over as she skated towards the wall of the ice rink, "So was it great or just good again?" She managed to ask before Bob snickered, nodding, "You were great in technique, which is good, but now I'm worried you aren't giving enough of yourself in the story, the character, I'm just surprised because that's usually what you do best."

It was very true and blunt, Shea wasn't known for the cleanest and prettiest lutz or axel jumps (hey, she still did them!) but she racked up presentation points like absolutely nobody's business.

"Well shit." The reply came before she apologized for cursing, it still felt weird even though she was an adult to curse in front of her coach, she truthfully felt like a junior again. "Take ten minutes and then I want to run both back to back, I need you to realize how different your music is and how to get into character." Bob walking off to go and get some hot tea, offering Detox who politely declined to jump onto the ice over the wall, yelling.

Trinity shook her head as she took of a sip of her iced tea bottle, walking over to Shea once she put her skate guards on, touching her friend's hands with their gloves still on, Shea only did it for costume purposes but Florida born and raised Trinity wasn't too keen yet on the cold, any costume she could wear gloves with she completely gushed over just because it was more warm.

"You're gonna do absolutely amazing, you know I'm coming to France already, I finished my competition and now I need you to beat my score and continue the journey to the Grand Prix."

Trinity had skated a week prior in Skate Canada, she placed fifth which wasn't what ideally she hoped for, the minimum score for qualification was 142.5 in Ladies Single skating and she had managed a 179.9 but she had taken a nasty fall in her short and did not recover too well after that but she still had a chance, a tiny, itty bitty chance though she simply moved on from it the day after once she cried into Alaska's shoulder for a straight hour knowing her chances were completely diminished.

"Focus on the Olympics, that's where it matters."

Detox skated around, aimlessly, doing a scratch spin in the center of the ice before letting herself sit completely wide open on the floor, the ice was nice and clean and private, the price you paid for that was worth it to have time without other skaters. "So, have you heard about Katya?"

"Heard what?"

"She quit on her coach, she's moving to Trixie's training camp over in Michigan, she got so aggravated finally that she literally up and left."

Shea gasped, impressed it took that long, she knew it was bound to happen she had heard multiple stories of how awful Russian skaters were treated by the large and in charge coaches, subjected to extremely harsh diets, training constantly, the media ate it up even if it was unfortunately true in some circumstances.

"So that means she's with Chad now?"

Detox nodded, Chad was a coach legend, he coached some of the best including Bob, Bianca and Morgan though their relationship got extremely tense and messy once the Scottish skater, now coach, blamed her career ending injury on Chad, who now would only beat herself up over the damn thing.

"That's good, I think he needs someone just as ambitious and witty as Morgan on her grounds again."

"We'll see, I think she'll crack under the new expectations and routine."

*.✧

Katya slammed the door of her St. Petersburg condo and cursed, wanting to burst into tears, unable to take any of it anymore. She had been living here for almost four years after Lobnya and opened her eyes and extra room to Sasha, a sweet and endearing girl who had since become her younger sister figure, she didn't have a wonderful support system so the older skater took it upon herself to make sure she was taken care of though she was soon to relocate alone and closer to the rink.

Sasha was never an issue, she was perfect, an angel, she was never ever yelled at in camp or at training, she was known as "Саша, дорогая" ( Sasha, darling ) for a damn reason, she did everything with no complaints yet was selfless and always stuck up for her fellow skaters who were ill, younger, struggling.

"What's wrong?" She asked with her nose in her textbooks, Sasha was still determined to finish her schooling one day though it probably wouldn't come soon with her fame and success.

"I quit."

Instantly her book was shut and the blonde looked up, her thick hair parting in front of her face as she nervously questioned what exactly that response exactly meant, "What— what, do you mean by that?" .

"I called him a fucking pig in front of the seniors, I threw my gold medal at him and then took my skates off and left, I called someone who had been interested in me for years to coach me and she immediately offered me a yes and it includes housing, I'm moving to America to train."

Sasha's entire face bleached white, she had no one else she was close to besides Jinkx who was always with another coach than she was and it was unsettling to think about the scene and commotion she must have caused and how it reflected on Sasha who they all called her darling "sister". Katya's hands anxiously ran down her arms, "I can't do this anymore Sasha, I'm turning to drugs again and I can't do that during competition season, I promised I'd be sober to and fuck!" She yelled, throwing her skates across the room as she stared at her own reflection in the large glass panel windows that adorned her comfortable living room, a view of the city perfectly placed.

The other blonde reached out to touch her shoulders and give her a soothing hug, knowing the extent of her history with issues like drugs and alcohol and knowing she was better than this, than to train in America. "Katya, Let's talk, please..." yet she was stopped with a firm slap on her wrist.

"Я не хочу с тобой разговаривать!" She screamed at Sasha, eyes completely ablaze with frustration, the younger skater quickly froze and closed her eyes, breathing slowly and took it in, she wasn't sensitive to someone screaming, she was just surprised Katya had finally reached such a breaking point she managed to yell at her own sister. Katya quickly snapped from her complete alternative reality and groaned at herself, "Sashi, I'm so sorry." She whispered before taking the younger girl in her arms who's eyes were puffing and red, sniffles once her face hit the Russian's national team jacket.

"I didn't mean to scream at you, I'm so sorry." Her apology soft as her fingers ran through the blonde's hair who cried on her chest, mumbling how awful it would be in Russia without her everyday which Katya responded with a firm, "But Sashi, we will always have camps and competitions and off seasons."

"Are you coming to France?"

What a stupid question.

"Of course I am, Sashi, nothing is going to change between us, I'm simply taking my training somewhere else and changing my coach. I still represent and compete for Russia!" She laughed while hugging her closest friend and roomie.

Sasha nodded and let go of her grasp before clearing her throat, "Good, I want to win extremely bad." Katya scoffed, "You act as if any of those other girls even have a chance against you." The younger girl felt her face light up as she clutched her phone close to her chest, "Well actually, there is one American skater who is really, really great and she's so beautiful to..." Katya nervously snapping at her face, "Don't let me lose you to a crush on an American skater, who even is it?"

"It's Shea, the same one who got second at World's three years ago."

The memory definitely stung hard, Katya had never wanted so badly to be top of the podium especially since it was Morgan's last skate before unexpected retirement. Shea was extremely hard working and talented but she was still competition and shouldn't pose Sasha a threat judging by their pure program components.

"Jesus Christ, out of every girl you're going to crush on it has to be her?"

Sasha moaned In disbelief at her response, "Crush?! She is simply competition and I admit her style, she's extremely beautiful and I will respect her from a distance." That sounded like a promise but something in the Russian's heart raced at the programs she had already done and that were uploaded to various social media's, she never took time to really know most other skaters but followed her on Instagram, not expecting much of a response back but instead she indeed returned the follow, there was at the very least a small respect for eachother hidden under all the competition.

"You keep on telling yourself that, now help me pack, I'm flying out in two days."

*.✧

Stress wasn't exactly the first word that Aquaria had hoped would come to mind when thinking about her first senior competition but how could it possibly not, now it was a completely ballgame and she had nothing but experienced and fierce competition, Adore being there with her made a bit less worried with press and interviews even if her own mother was coming since she was her coach, of course.

Her "mom" of over seven years had vied for her to finally become a senior and represent America after she permanently moved from Milan, passion blazing and talent endless. Sharon was beyond happy to have her newfound "daughter" with her at every corner though she still had other skater's to focus on but it was definitely difficult to not put blantant favoritism towards your own daughter, let's be completely honest.

"You ready for France?" Alaska asked the younger girl as she tightly pulled on her skate's laces, Aquaria shook her head, pulling her platinum hair into a high ponytail so the strands of hair would be away from her face while she trained, pulling her leggings over her skates as she responded with a nervously riddled, "Not really, I have some really huge competition and I don't know if I'm exactly up to the level yet, no matter what she has to say." Referring to Sharon who always placed her cards down for Aquaria to succeed and she dominated the junior level for a long time but now it was serious and where it counted, her entire career started here.

Alaska wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nodded, remembering the days of her first starting qualifications at the senior level, she had still an extremely controversial skating style and range of music, she never liked the classical music done over and over again. She'd rather skate to Stevie Nicks than to fucking Carmen for the fifth time straight like some of her competitors. Adore Delano was the same way and it made for them to become great friends, even if it felt as if they were intentionally underscored for their taste in genres.

"Well, your style is beautiful and the judges will appreciate it, make it to the damn Grand Prix girl!" Slapping her shoulders she helped the shorter and younger girl from the bench as she walked by Sharon, her black skate guards over the blade as she leaned into the crook of her neck, "Does it feel weird to see how far she's come?" The whisper making the coach jump a bit but she chuckled in response.

"It is, this is how life works though, I'm just hoping it's a good first impression for her, she deserves it."

Alaska took her hand and smiled, "You worry too fucking much." She mumbled, Sharon kissing her hand and tightly keeping the hold of her fingertips, interlocking them as she continued on with Aquaria who had been staring at them and smiling to herself, she always understood the extent of their "friendship" as Sharon put it though she wasn't an idiot: kissing her hand constantly, holding her waist, being extra touchy during training and ice time, showing up to practices and competitions with well covered bruises and hickey's.

"Alright, play!" She yelled to Latrice who gave a smile and nodded, letting the phone begin it's track as Aquaria molded into starting position, center of the ice as always.

Her program was a difficult one, in terms of components she had the most though Sasha Velour, her biggest competition, still had more quad's and bigger points to rack up though Aquaria was attempting a quad lutz finally out of the harness, if she was going to win she needed to atleast begin measuring up to her Russian competitors who always seemed an entire staircase above the rest of the skaters when it came to jumps and tricks though Aquaria wasn't sure she would ever sacrifice her sanity for a medal.

Sharon had brainstormed with her at home, on the counter nonetheless what the theme of her program should be, she said it was always the most important thing to consider because it helped with performance. Alaska had unsuprisingly chosen Rebellion and Aquaria went with Dreams, an odd choice but she liked the concepts and her songs.

Short program to Oh So Quiet by Björk, Long program was a medley they put together for Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty, trying to make it cohesive and Aquaria certainly liked the mix. Her original plan was to do some songs from Chicago but Alaska begged her not to so they could do it for the exhibition gala's together claiming they'd look basic but amazing.

The key to a good performance truthfully was just embodying the song, the skating and skill would follow that but if you couldn't even get the message or portrayal of the song what was the point, certain skaters would utterly destroy the others in technical score and fall flat on performance, on the look and energy.

Sharon breathed deeply seeing Aquaria stumble just a bit on the opening jump, "Arms straight out!" She yelled as the blonde adjusted, performing a layback spin and turning on her skate with the back outside edge and slamming her toe pick into the ice before performing her quad lutz with success, smiling in pure delusional happiness hearing Alaska utterly scream in support before she tuned her out and continued the program, trying not to let it get to her head when she still had other elements to perform.

The end was always the hardest, to maintain momentum and wrap the program up in a gift wrapped present with the bow on top, this song luckily was a fun one and had a lot of indication in the beats placed on the music where to hit certain poses, positions and when to jump.

Finishing with a clean salchow and camel spin, ending in the center where she started though she finished on her knees, it wasn't the most pleasant but it got the feeling of the song she wanted so it was her artistic direction for this one and not Sharon's.

"Yes!" Sharon yelled laughing clapping, Alaska cheered on her teammate with pride and joy, "So fucking good." She groaned before attempting to run with skates on to choke Aquaria in a tight hug, Sharon joining in on the hug, feeling pride though she had her stumbles and her edges could definitely be improved but she had the charisma, the jumps, even got the quad she wanted.

"The edges are a bit rough but we can work on that, I'm so proud." Sharon breathed on her neck as they embraced as a mother and daughter pair did, Alaska rolled her eyes, she knew it was Sharon's damn job to nitpick every small thing in her programs however, especially since this was Aquaria and someone she took care of personally: she wanted to do the best she possibly could with the competition that laid ahead.

"Now get off, Alaska and I have to work since she's been a lazy bitch."

Aquaria didn't complain at the chance to take a break, get water and unlace her skates, quickly getting off the ice as Alaska hopped on, circling the ice rink as she hummed, running movements in her head. Alaska had drawn the Rostelecom Cup and was beyond glad that Detox had as well so she couldn't feel as alone propped in her hotel room.

"Latrice please!" Sharon yelled at the girl who gave a nod before pressing play again, this time Sharon was on the ice so she could help Alaska out more with tracking the number, she looked to be marking it constantly and that was worrysome enough.

"Are you following me because you're so in love with me you simply can't stay away?" A kiss pressed to her lips, hands on her cheeks while Aquaria was turned away, Sharon licked her lips and laughed, "Wish it was, you just aren't skating very great right now."

Alaska was taken back just a bit but shook it off, knowing how much belief Sharon had in her to succeed even with her odd music choices, she was a performer and she averaged a bronze medal almost every competition, it was still atleast some kind of money, achievement and medal. They had known eachother since their childhood in Pennsylvania. Sharon might have been about four years older and a coach now but that didn't mean Alaska still didn't mind on reminiscing the days they both skated together on Chad's team of established skaters.

"Wait until my costume, I'll be completely galvanized and in perfect character." She promised with a sly wink before stretching out her arms and going in the center, Aquaria watching with curiousity. She always enjoyed Alaska's blantant disregard for what the judges wanted in her music and skating, claiming she was too athletic which Alaska called out as bullshit, they just didn't like she wasn't a pretty ice princess doing Don Quixote or Schindler's List and actually had variety in genre.

The ISU still approved all her music programs for competitions which was all she cared about. Sharon fought diplomatically as she could when it came to Coaches and Media bashing Alaska's skating.

I'll win a medal and then you'll finally be proud of me.

[shellbilee]

Classic - A Henry Cavill FanFiction

Here it is guys, Chapter 4. Sorry for the very very long delay, between travelling and studying for my masters degree everything has just been a little insane and unfortunately my fanfic writing drops off the priority list. Now that things have settled down again I’m hoping to get a lot more chapters up for you! 

I hope you enjoy this chapter, I have a lot of plans for Henry & Belle! As always, comments and feedback welcome. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next chapters!

B x

@michelehansel @tumblnewby @crazy4thewinbros @thislittlediary@hamianderson 

Chapter 4

Henry's POV:

I scanned the park for people as Kal and I stepped onto the paved walking path, Kal panting and wagging his tail happily as he looked out at the grassy area. Finding no one in sight, I bent down to un-clip his lead and watched as he took off onto the grass, grinning when he reached the middle and turned around to bark at me. I flipped the newly-purchased travel mug over in my hands as I walked over to a nearby park bench, sitting down and looking up at Kal as he sniffed a tree curiously. I glanced down at the mug and frowned, all of a sudden feeling stupid for buying it yesterday. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but right now it just seemed silly. What would Belle think? I had no idea if I'd even be able to give it to her since I had no idea if she'd even show this morning. And this is exactly why you should have just asked her for her number when you saw her yesterday. I shook my head and exhaled loudly, once again frustrated at my actions. On one hand I didn't want to seem too forward with a woman I'd known for less than an hour, but on the other hand there was an absolutely gorgeous girl that I had no way of knowing if I was ever going to see again. I glanced down at the mug and back up at Kal, thankful that I'd at least managed to find her on Instagram last night. 

I'd been settling down into bed last night when I'd gone onto Instagram to reply to some of my fans comments on my new post. Then, by some kind of chance I'd seen it - a comment from a 'belledeluca' saying that she and Kyah had loved meeting Kal and I. Figuring that it could be the same Belle from the park, I'd clicked on her name to find a private profile with a small, simple bio. '29. Vet. London', the famous A.A Milne quote 'You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think' written beneath it. Though I couldn't quite make out the small profile picture, I could see the same gorgeous smile that had made me stop in my tracks in the park yesterday. It was her! I'd pressed the follow button without thinking and had been surprised when she'd accepted only a few minutes later, allowing me a full, unobstructed view of her photos.

I'd proceeded to spend the next ten minutes shamelessly searching through Belle's profile, each new picture only further confirming just how gorgeous I thought she was. There were photos of her at work smiling happily next to various animals, photos of her out on the town and laughing with her girlfriends, photos of her dressed to the nines in a deep red gown at some fancy event and of course several photos of her grinning happily with Kyah. I'd noted quite happily that absent from her profile was any pictures or mentions of a boyfriend, it seemed like it was just her and Kyah. What wasn't absent though - from almost every single photo, was that same unbelievably beautiful smile. It was one of those smiles that seemed to light up her entire face, one that would make you stop and stare if you saw it. Belle was absolutely stunning, and the more I looked at her photos, the more I realised just how much I wanted to see her again. 

My head snapped up when I heard Kal bark, looking up just in time to see Kyah bounding towards him on the grass. Kyah's tail wagged furiously as she ran straight into Kal, the two instantly jumping into play-mode despite meeting for the first time only yesterday. I felt the smile grow on my face before my thoughts could even register. She was here! I heard the sound of footsteps behind me and I turned my head towards the noise, my smile growing even bigger when my eyes fell on the sight I'd be thinking about all night. Belle. She looked even more gorgeous than I remembered yesterday, dressed in figure hugging black leggings with her long brown hair pulled back into a high, bouncy ponytail. Even her eyes seemed to be brighter than I remembered, wide and a soft jade green, framed by long dark lashes. I grinned and leaned back on the bench, looking up at her as she pulled her headphones out of her ears. "Good morning Belle"."Good morning Henry" she replied with a soft smile, wrapping her headphones around her phone and reaching up to smooth her pony tail. I shifted on the bench to make room for her next to me, Belle flashing me a grateful smile and sitting down beside me. 

"I see these two clearly missed each other" Belle said as she looked out at Kal and Kyah, letting out a soft laugh and turning to me with a grin. I chuckled, "Yes Kal was pestering me all night last night, kept saying how much he wanted to see his new friend again". She laughed louder this time, the sound light and bubbly and like music in my ears, her gorgeous green eyes crinkling at the sides as she looked back at me, amused. "How has your morning been?" Belle inquired, glancing out at the dogs and looking back at me thoughtfully, "Did you get up to much yesterday?". I exhaled and leaned back on the bench, "Well, it's starting off pretty well I must say" I replied gesturing to her and watching as a faint blush crept up her face, "In fact I'm quite sure that this will be the highlight of my day today".

I smiled as her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, watching as her lips parted into a gorgeous smile that made me momentarily lose my train of thought. "Charming as ever you are Mr Cavill" she retorted, laughing and shaking her head softly. I chuckled at her use of my last name and looked out at the dogs again, the strong scent of sweet fruity vanilla suddenly invading my senses as Belle shifted beside me. I closed my eyes for a brief moment taking in her intoxicating perfume, opening my eyes and looking back at her a moment later. "In answer to your question though, I didn't do a whole lot yesterday. Had some meetings to attend, a few gym sessions. Just the usual really". Belle laughed, "Just the usual? Oh how the other half lives". I laughed and shook my head, shifting on the bench, "What about yourself? How was work for you?".

Belle let out a soft sigh, "Work wasn't too bad yesterday. It was one of those flat out back-to-back appointment days which are never really great I guess, but it does mean that the day goes quickly" she explained with a shrug, "And then I went to my brother's place for a bit after yoga last night". I leaned back on the bench and tilted my head questioningly, "Yoga? How often do you do that?". Belle smiled, "Every Wednesday night.  My sister in law Mel went through a 'wanting to try new things phase' a few months ago and of course I got dragged along". Almost instantly the image of Belle wearing very little and sitting in some bent over yoga position appeared in my brain and I had to look out at the dogs momentarily in an effort to compose myself. "I was a little apprehensive at first" Belle admitted reaching up to brush a piece of hair away from her face, "Especially when we spent the first session lying on our backs and "focusing on our breathing" she added, making quotation marks with her fingers when she said 'focusing on our breathing'. "But then I realised how great I felt after a session so I decided to keep at it. We've been going for a few months now".

I nodded, "Can't say I've ever thought about trying it". Belle tilted her head and shrugged, "I'm sure it's not for everyone. But if you can get past all of the flakey mindfulness stuff and focus on the movements, I think you'd be pleasantly surprised". I smiled, "I can barely touch my toes so I don't know how great I'd be" I laughed, shrugging my shoulders and grinning when Belle laughed out loud. I couldn't help my smile as I watched her intently, thinking for the tenth time this morning just how beautiful I thought she was. Belle grinned, "I'm sure you'd be more than fine Henry".

"So, what about this morning? Was getting out of bed as difficult as you said it was yesterday?". A grin grew on Belle's face as if she'd just thought of something funny, my eyebrows raising curiously when she shook her head a moment later as if dismissing a thought. "Well no, not exactly. I found it to be much easier to get out of bed when you have incentive" Belle replied, gesturing to me and flashing her gorgeous grin. I chuckled and watched as she opened her mouth to continue, her eyes all of a sudden widening as she looked down at my lap. Seeing her expression, I frowned and followed her eye line, shaking my head at myself when I saw the mug in my hands. I'd been so caught up in seeing Belle again that I'd forgotten to give it to her. "Wha---, that's not what I think it is, is it?" Belle stammered, looking at me with wide, confused eyes. I grinned, "Well, I'm hoping that you think it's a travel mug?". Belle rolled her eyes and laughed, "Yes thank you, I can see that" she answered, a hint of attitude sneaking into her voice, "What I meant was, that's not a replacement mug because of yesterday is it?".

My lips parted and I couldn't help my grin from forming as I looked back at her incredulous expression, "Well I'm terribly sorry to tell you, that actually, yes it is. I felt awful that you broke your mug because of Kal's lack of manners" I said gesturing out to the dogs, "So it was only right that I buy another since you refused to take my money yesterday". Belle shook her head defiantly, a small smile evident on her lips, "It's not like he did on purpose! I didn't even give it a second thought when I got home. You didn't need to do that, really, it's okay". I shrugged, "Well, I wanted to. So please take it" I replied, reaching over to place the mug in her lap and flashing her a grin. I watched as she shook her head again, letting out a soft laugh as she looked down at the mug and then back up at me. "Thank you Henry, it's very sweet of you" she responded glancing out at the dogs, "But see, now we have a problem. Now I feel that I owe you something. After all, you did go to the trouble of going out to buy this" she explained, holding up the mug for emphasis.

I opened my mouth to tell her that now she was the one being silly, an idea all of a sudden popping into my head. I'd been thinking about this girl all night last night, wishing I had asked for her number when I'd met her yesterday. Now I had the perfect opportunity - and I didn't know how to say it. I smiled and shifted on the bench as I looked over at Belle, watching as she raised a curious eyebrow when she saw my expression. "And what is that smile for Mr Cavill?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at me intently. I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair. "Well, technically you don't owe me anything, in fact I think this actually makes us even" I explained, gesturing to the mug in her hands, "However there is something that I'd like to ask you for". Belle laughed and shifted on the bench so that her whole body was now facing me, "Oh really? And what might that be?". As I searched for the words to ask, it suddenly dawned on me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually asked a girl for her number. I smiled as I looked back at Belle's gorgeous green eyes, letting out a deep, silent breath. It was now or never. "I'm aware that this may be awfully forward of me considering this is only the second time we've met" I began, swallowing thickly and letting out another breath, "But if it is okay with you, I'd like to please ask for your number".

---

Belle's POV:

The final buzzer sounded signalling the end of the game and I threw my hands up into the air in triumph! We did it! I shook hands with my player from the opposing team and thanked her for the game, winking at Jayde as I walked past her to shake hands with the rest of the team. She'd been absolutely on fire tonight scoring 23 of our 30 goals - even when she'd been standing in the most awkward of spots she'd still somehow managed to effortlessly get the ball through the ring. I'd been playing netball with her for almost 6 years now and I was still in awe every time I watched her. "Great game girls!" Ivy, our captain shouted as we came together, the whole team clapping when the umpire interrupted to announce that Jayde had won 'Best on Ground'. "Well deserved babe" I said as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze, "You killed it tonight Jay". Ash grinned as she walked over to Jayde and I, patting her on the back and congratulating her on her performance. 

"You ready for dinner guys?" Ash asked as we collected our gear, searching in her bag for her car keys. "Sure am!" Jayde answered as she pulled on her jumper, "I've been thinking about these dumplings all day. And I'm bloody starving!". Ash and I laughed as we walked towards our cars, a wide happy grin glued permanently to my face. I'd been on cloud nine the entire day, my mind still struggling to process what had happened this morning. Henry Cavill had asked for my number! The words had been running through my mind all day like a song on repeat. Henry fucking Cavill! I still hadn't told the girls yet - I'd wanted to wait until we sat down at dinner to tell them so that I could see their reactions first hand. It had taken every ounce of my energy not to text them both while I'd been at work today, my mind forcing me to delete the text that I'd written at least four times throughout the day. 

"Follow me yeah?" Jayde yelled out as I opened my car door, fumbling through my bag in an effort to find my phone. "Yeah will do!" I shouted back as I slid into the drivers seat of my white SUV, my fingers finally locating my phone in my bag. The already enormous smile on my face got even bigger when I saw that I had a message from an unknown number, my heart racing in my chest when my eyes read the message. Henry! He'd sent me a text asking how my day had been, and how I'd gone at netball tonight, signing off with a simple 'H x'. I fought the urge to hug myself in glee, reading over the message again and wondering what on earth I should reply. It wasn't every day that I got a text message from a celebrity - and unbelievably handsome one at that. Handsome was not even a good enough word to describe Henry, no word was. I'd had to stop myself from swooning at least ten times while I'd sat with him this morning, the devastatingly sexy half smiles he'd kept flashing me threatening to turn me into a puddle on the floor. I jumped when a car horn suddenly honked, shaking me from my thoughts as I looked up to find both Ash and Jayde's cars sitting stationary at the exit of the car park. Realizing that they were both waiting for me - and aware that Jayde would start to get violent if she didn't get her dumplings soon, I typed a quick message back to Henry and dropped my phone back into my bag, pulling the gear stick into drive and following the girls out of the car park. 

---

"I cannot believe you have Superman's number!" Jayde said for the hundredth time, finally giving up on trying to pick up a vegetarian dumpling with her chopsticks and switching to a fork. I'd told them all about my encounter on Wednesday morning - how I'd been ready to rip into the owner of the giant Akita that had knocked into Kyah and I, and how I'd seemingly lost all of my words when I realized who the owner was. I'd told them how how he'd followed me on Instagram last night, how he'd bought me another mug and had asked for my number, and how the two of us had continued to talk for over an hour this morning. Like me, they'd been incredulous when I showed them his text message, struggling to believe that I'd actually managed to meet and get the number of Henry Cavill himself. "So what now B?" Ash asked as she took a sip of her red wine, "Will you go on a date with him?". I covered my mouth as I chewed a prawn dumpling, swallowing and shrugging my shoulders. "Well that might be a bit presumptuous Ash" I replied, taking a sip of my own wine, "But I don't know, I can't say I've thought about the logistics - I mean, I only met the man yesterday. I've been in too much shock to think about that" I added with a laugh, putting down my wine glass and brushing a stray hair from my face.

"He asked for your number Belle, that's quite clearly something babe" Jayde interjected, stabbing another dumpling on her plate, "I mean, you don't ask someone for their number if you aren't interested in them". I shrugged my shoulders again and clicked my chopsticks together, considering her words. She did have a point there. Was Henry really interested in me? I shook my head and frowned - why would Henry Cavill - the Henry Cavill, be interested in me? I wasn't a model, I wasn't an actress, I was just a vet from the suburbs who happened to be at the park when he was. It didn't make sense. Didn't celebrities tend to stick to their own kind? Seeing my expression, Jayde shook her head and pointed her fork at me. "No, I know what you're thinking and you can erase that thought right now". I shook my head innocently, "What do you mean?". Jayde raised an eyebrow, "You're not doubting yourself, wondering why he is interested in you?" "Saying that you're 'just a vet'?" Ash added, she too looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to my food, suddenly annoyed that my two best friends could read me so well. "It's not that I'm doubting myself, it's just that, why? Like the man could have literally any woman in the world". "And yet he asked for your number you gorgeous bitch" Jayde interrupted, flashing me a wicked grin as she took a sip of her wine, "So stop thinking negatively and realize the positives here".  "And they are?" I challenged, tilting my head as I looked back at Jayde. "That sex-on-legs fucking Superman is into you of course!".

Several courses of dumplings and many glasses of red wine later, the three of us sat at the table, pleasantly content. When we'd finally gotten away from the topic of Henry, Jayde had told us all about a new drama at work - she was a lawyer at a mid size firm in the heart of the city. The firm had hired a new senior associate who apparently looked like a darker version of Jake Gyllenhaal but sounded like Gerard Butler, and - according to Jayde, had consequently sent all of the young female paralegals and junior associates into a tiz. Ash and I had both laughed when she'd told us - it had sounded like something right out of a Suits episode. I grinned, Oh Harvey Spectre. Jamie was later brought up and Ash's eyes had welled up almost instantly at the mention of her brother. She'd admitted that she was struggling without him - especially with not being able to contact him, but was happy that he was finally doing something he'd always wanted to do. She'd explained that he was only able to make phone calls once a week while he was in the initial training, and that she was eagerly awaiting his call next week. 

---

"So what are you doing this weekend B?" Ash asked as we stood up from the table, grabbing our things as Jayde walked over to the front of the restaurant to pay the bill. "Oh I've got Amy and Marc coming to visit. You remember my friends from Australia don't you? They were here last year for a week or so, came to visit me on their way to visit Marc's family in Glasgow?". Ash nodded, "Yeah I remember, the Scottish guy with the beard and amazing green eyes". I laughed, "Yes that's the one. They're visiting Marc's family again and are doing a big Europe trip this time. I'm picking them up from the airport tomorrow and they're staying with me for a few days" I explained as I pulled on my jacket, "What about you?". "Liam's taking me away for the weekend" Ash replied just as Jayde returned to the table. "Oooo where are you going?" Jayde teased, slipping on her jacket, "Big romantic weekend for you two?". Ash rolled her eyes, "Were going to Galway to visit his parents and then just going to do some sight seeing or something. Planning for the wedding has been ridiculously stressful lately, and he knows this week has been hard with Jamie and everything. So he wanted us to have a little getaway" she explained as the three of us made our way out of the restaurant. I nodded, "Speaking of, how is planning going? Have you got much left to do?".  

After being together for over seven years, Liam had finally popped the question on Ash's birthday last year. He'd come to Jayde and I a few weeks before, wanting our opinions on engagement rings. We'd given him our best advice and several weeks later he'd asked her to marry him during a carefully planned, romantic weekend in Paris. She'd called almost as soon as he had asked, her voice practically incoherent among the happy sobs and cries. When they'd finally set a date a few months later, Ash had asked Jayde and I to be her bridesmaids, along with her younger sister Taylah as her maid of honour. Together, the three of us had helped out with the wedding planing, assisting Ash with everything from guest lists and cake flavours, to searching numerous stores for the perfect dress.

Ash shook her head, "Every time I feel like I'm on top of it, I find something else that needs to be done. You know how everyone always says wedding planning is hard because there's so much to do?". Jayde and I both nodded, "Well believe it. Because it is 100% the truth" Ash continued with a loud sigh. "Anyway enough of that" she said, turning to Jayde and changing the subject, "What about you, what are you doing this weekend?".  Jayde rolled her head around and stretched her neck, an enormous grin suddenly growing on her face "I'm doing absolutely fucking nothing" she announced loudly, dropping her arms to her sides, "And I can't bloody wait. I can't remember the last time I had a weekend at home, relaxing with me, myself and I. I've worked like, the past five weekends in a row". I laughed and tapped my chin, "Andddd whose idea was it to be a lawyer again Jayde?". This time it was Jayde's turn to roll her eyes, "Oh shut up B". 

I chuckled and pulled my keys out of my bag as we reached our cars. "Well, on that note ladies, I am off. I'm exhausted from our game" Ash exclaimed with a sigh, reaching up to stretch her arms above her head, "Thank you both for a lovely dinner. It was just what I needed after this week". I smiled as Ash got into her car, "Any time babe, you know we love you. Drive safe and have a good weekend yeah?". "And make sure you actually relax this weekend!" Jayde shouted as she unlocked her black Mercedes Benz, "Have a bottle of wine...or 3!". Ash laughed and shook her head dismissively, waving to us as she drove off out of the car park. "And you B!" Jayde exclaimed loudly as she opened her car door and lifted one leg into the car, "Keep me updated on the Superman situation okay? I want every single dirty detail!". I rolled my eyes and laughed, only Jayde would say that. I waved to her as she got into her car, smiling when she blew me a kiss and drove off towards the exit of the car park.

---

I fluffed up my pillow behind me and leaned back in bed, picking up my phone to respond to Henry's latest message. We'd been texting back and forth since I'd gotten home from dinner, talking about our days and sharing our weekend plans. I'd explained about Amy and Marc coming to visit and how I was more than likely going to have a night out with them tomorrow, and he'd explained how he had a busy weekend of meeting and press planning for his latest TV show called The Witcher. He'd apologized in his latest message saying that he and Kal wouldn't be out walking tomorrow because he had an early start, the feeling of disappointment suddenly settling in my stomach knowing that I wouldn't get to see Henry again for a few days. I looked down at Kyah as she lay curled in a ball in her bed beside mine, deciding that I'd still get up and take her for a morning walk even though we wouldn't get to see our new friends. I reached down to stroke her fluffy head with my free hand as my fingers hovered over the screen, thinking about what to say to Henry in response. The beep of a new message sounded and I turned back to my phone, a second message from Henry suddenly popping up on the screen. Almost instantly, the feeling of disappointment in my stomach was replaced by one of excitement. 

I was wondering if you were free at all next week? I'd love to take you to dinner or perhaps grab a drink?

I let out a small excited squeal, grinning when Kyah lifted her head to look up at me curiously. Henry Cavill was asking me on a date! I fought the urge to hug myself, all of a sudden feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Jayde was right, I had to look at the positives here - a million and one females would kill to be in my position, and yet here I was getting asked out for dinner by Henry Cavill himself. Superman wanted to take me out on a date! I grinned and inhaled deeply, forcing myself to remember that he was still in essence a normal human male and that this should be like any other guy that had ever asked me out on a date. Letting out a heavy breath I forced myself remain composed, my fingers flying across the screen as I typed a simple message in response; 

That sounds lovely. Do you have a particular night that would suit you? Tuesday would work well for me, otherwise Friday? 

---

We sent a few more messages back and forth - me joking that perhaps he should be the one to pick the day since he was probably significantly busier than I was, and him eventually making the executive decision for dinner on Tuesday night. Several more texts and a mutual decision to figure out logistics closer to the date, we both decided it was finally time to call it a night. I smiled to myself as I typed my final message to Henry, thanking him again for the mug and letting him know that I was also very much looking forward to Tuesday. Putting down my phone and flicking off my bedside lamp, I lay back on my pillow and shook my head in disbelief. I had a date with Henry Cavill! Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I closed my eyes and before long felt myself begin to drift off to sleep, the image of Henry's gorgeous blue eyes burnt into my brain.

---

Chapter 5

[the-quiet-winds]

You Clicked Your Heels and Wished for Me (part two)

hi kiddos, welcome back to sad boi hours. the inspiration for this came from when a friend of @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts saw six and told us about a very similar situation that occurred during the show...

[part one]

trigger warning for blood, accidental harm

[Part 2: Don’t Try to Sleep through the End of the World]

exactly ten minutes before curtain, katherine stares at her phone, working up the courage to call jane, but finding none. she’s probably busy, katherine reasons, there’s no need to bother her.

she eventually tosses her phone onto the dressing room table, idly running her fingernail against the edge of her choker. she doesn’t want jane to think she can’t function without her or anything like that; then jane would never want to go anywhere without her again, and katherine wasn’t about to force jane to stay in one place just because katherine couldn’t handle a nightmare or two. the five minute call announcement sounds over the speakers and katherine stands up with a sigh. she had a show to do.

several thousand miles away, jane stares at her own phone, waiting for it to ring. the minutes tick by, however, and at five minutes to show time jane finally gives in and calls katherine herself. the phone rings for almost a minute before going to voicemail, and jane frowns.

she calls back again, but this time it doesn’t even ring. it goes straight to kat’s voicemail and jane starts to grow concerned. the clock hits three, meaning that the show was starting in england, and that very much was that. katherine didn’t need her reassurance before the show, but based on their phone call that morning, jane doesn’t think it’s just a sudden boost in confidence.

the show goes on as normal for the most part, but the slightly hazy feeling from the show last night returns. katherine almost misses a couple of cues in her distracted state and by the time she gets to her song she has to really force herself to focus.

as she tells her story, everything feels so much more real than normal. rationally, she knows it’s only grace and parr who are putting their hands on her shoulders but it still sends a shudder down her spine.

she feels her free hand reaching up to her collar, but at the last second, another hand reaches in and grabs her wrist. katherine can see parr out of the corner of her eye, a subtle concern on her face as she broke choreo.

suddenly, katherine doesn’t see parr. it’s thomas grabbing her, so she wrenches free and plummets to her knees for the final verse, now free hand scraping along the surface of her neck, drier makeup caking under her nails. the audience gasps as the angry red skin of her neck is revealed, but none of it feels real to katherine. all she can see is white and all she can hear is a faint buzzing and maria’s driving drums, her heartbeat matching the tempo.

she’s not sure how she keeps singing, but it might have just been her way of letting all that pain out, pouring it into every note, until her voice cracks on the last word. the lights drop, and while katherine would normally be standing centre-stage she can’t find the ability to get up from the floor. she drops the microphone, both hands grabbing at her neck and clawing at the already damaged skin until it tears open, tiny pinpricks of blood raising to the surface. her eyes are clamped shut and her breathing is shallow, and she suddenly feels a pair of hands grab underneath her arms. she chokes out a scream and thrashes around, kicking her legs and trying to break free of the grip, but they don’t let go. she’s being moved somewhere, and if she was lucid she’d be able to see they were just moving her offstage so the audience stopped staring at her, but in her mind she’s being dragged off by the guards on Henry’s orders.

the only thing she can feel besides the hands under her arms is the blood trickling on her neck.

she feels herself hit the ground and the impact startles her. she had been expecting rough cobblestones and cold rooms, but except it was a soft carpet and low lights.

her dressing room.

“katherine? can you hear me?” the voice is warm and familiar, as far as she can tell. “it’s me, joan.”

does she know a joan? she asks her racing brain, which slows enough to say yes, joan is a friend. joan won’t hurt you.

joan, as a matter of fact, had been backstage the entire show. the stage direction team was throwing maria through the ringer as musical director for a few nights, so joan was there in case anything went to hell. which it didn’t, putting her in the perfect position to help katherine.

“what happened?” kat asks hazily. joan breathes a sigh of relief.

“you tell me, katherine.”

katherine blinks several times as the world slowly shifts back into focus. joan is standing in front of her, face an equal mix of worry and relief. her brain hasn’t quite managed to work out everything that’s going on, but she does notice the sharp pain in her neck and the sensation of the slowly dripping blood, and she winces.

“here,” joan says suddenly, turning to a dressing table. she returns with a bottle of water and a pack of tissues. she wets one of the tissues and then crouches down in front of katherine, looking slightly unsure. “can you do it, or...”

joan didn’t want to touch katherine’s neck she realises, and as her mind returns from its fog she realises why; joan didn’t want to freak her out by putting anything near her neck. it’s a nice gesture, but katherine honestly isn’t sure if her arms were going to cooperate with her.

she barely shakes her head, but it’s enough for joan to understand. with a soft look, she begins to wipe away some of the blood with light strokes. katherine hisses in pain, causing joan to grimace.

“what’s been up with you?” joan asks quietly.

katherine can’t bring herself to answer, because she herself doesn’t even know.

they sit in silence as joan tends to the remainder of her scratches. “do you...” she offers katherine her phone. “do you want to call jane?”

katherine doesn’t answer for a few moments. part of her wants nothing better than to accept, to call jane and listen to her gentle voice and kind words telling katherine that it’s all going to be okay. another part of her, though, hates herself for being so selfish. if jane found out what was happening then she’d probably come back straight away just for her, and katherine wasn’t going to let herself ruin jane’s trip like that. she just shakes her head quietly, and joan looks at her for a moment.

“i’m gonna leave my phone here anyway,” she says, putting it down on the floor next to katherine. “i’ll be back in a minute, i’m just gonna talk to the backstage manager.”

she leaves the room with one last glance back at katherine.

katherine stares at the phone, unsure of what to do. she almost waits for a signal, a sign, anyone to tell her what to do. but one doesn’t come, so she does nothing.

joan returns a moment later, looking concerned and grave. “maybe you should take tomorrow’s show off,” joan says. “get some real sleep.”

katherine’s brain immediately jumps to what the fans would post; pictures of them and vicki would definitely alert jane.

“no!” she protests. “i can do it.”

joan looks at katherine almost anxiously, before sighing. “maybe you should talk to the other queens and see how you feel tomorrow. i know it’s not really any of my business.”

katherine agrees, although she has no real intention of doing so. joan looks slightly relieved at that.

“good, good. i’ve, um,” she looks slightly awkward. “i’ve spoken to the backstage manager, and she said that they’ve decided to cancel the rest of tonight’s show, so the other girls should be coming back in soon.”

panic suddenly fills katherine. “cancel?” she asks, voice higher than normal. jane would definitely see that it had been cancelled, someone would definitely tweet about it. “i can go back on,” she says, trying to pull herself back up. joan’s eyes widen and she puts her hands on katherine’s shoulders, keeping her sat down.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says quickly.

katherine looks at her and defiantly stands up. even in the mirror, she can see the angry red marks that are just barely beginning to heal, but she ignores them.

"i'm going back on," she says, staring down joan. "don't try to stop me."

the other woman shrinks back slightly but makes no movement, and katherine marches back downstairs, just edging out the stage manager to break through the side curtain.

she plays off the exit with a joke, then gives parr a guarded look to start her piece.

the show continues, but there’s an off feeling for the rest of the show that doesn’t go away. the audience applaud nicely enough but it’s clear they knew something had happened, not least because katherine’s neck bore the marks of it. once they can finally leave the stage katherine rushes to her dressing room and tries to change as quickly as possible, not wanting another talk from parr.

as she tries to sneak out the stage door, she’s stopped again. not by parr or even joan, but aragon of all people.

“look,” the queen says shortly, “i don’t know what’s been going on with you lately, but i know this,” she gestures to katherine’s neck, “is new and definitely not healthy.”

katherine looks down and aragon softens her voice.

“you can talk to us, katherine,” she says honestly. “i know we aren’t jane, but we want to be here for you.”

katherine doesn’t know exactly what about the situation does it, whether it’s the surprise of aragon being the one to confront her or whether she was caught at the wrong moment, but as she tries to formulate a response her brain short-circuits and she bursts into tears. aragon looks alarmed and reaches out to her.

“hey, katherine, it’s okay.”

���it’s not,” katherine chokes out inelegantly between ugly sobs. “i don’t know what’s going on. it hurts.”

whether she means physically or emotionally aragon isn’t sure, but the tears don’t stop flowing from katherine’s eyes as she leans heavily against the wall, suddenly losing the ability to keep herself upright unassisted.

aragon takes a cautious step closer. she reaches out a clumsy and awkward hand a puts it on katherine’s shoulder, and the girl just cries a little bit harder.

she misses jane so much, it’s unfair.

aragon rubs her thumb back and forth in soothing motions until katherine’s tears subside and she looks up with red eyes. she opens her mouth to say something, but aragon cuts her off by offering her phone.

katherine takes it gratefully and immediately makes her call. “mum?” she asks feebly “h-hey.”

“kitty-kat?” jane asks, sensing the tremble in katherine’s voice. “is everything okay, love?”

hearing jane’s voice again, so full of love and safety, sets katherine’s tears off again and she can barely get out a choked “no” before the lump in her throat grows.

“oh, love,” jane says, voice gentle. “what’s the matter?”

katherine can’t even begin to articulate everything that’s felt wrong over the past few days, the panic on the show, the neck scratching, so she just sums it up as best she can in three words.

“i miss you.”

“kitty-kat...” jane murmurs, “i miss you too. but it’s only a few more days, okay? day after tomorrow i’ll be back before you go to bed. do you think you’ll be alright until then?”

she hears katherine sniffle on the other side of the line. then a tiny, slightly muffled, “yeah,” followed by “love you bye.” and the call ends.

jane hasn’t even put her phone down before it rings again. why is the airline calling? the picks up and has multiple conflicting emotions. her flight changed, and they’re sending her back early tomorrow instead of the day after. the interviews had finished, luckily, but jane was hoping for a day to see parts of ohio, but she was also glad to be able to get back to katherine that much sooner.

so she surprises her.

[bri-borg]

stars of lovingness in her hair

A/N: heeeyyyy it’s part two. This features very bad French, from me, a person who was supposed to be certified fluent in it in high school, and only used google translate to double check myself, which I do not reccomend—so I take full responsibility of the shittiness of the French dialogue. Also the poem I keep using is À une passante by Baudelaire, which I have attached here right after the translations. Also this wasn’t beta’d and was edited by me, a tired person.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, some suggestive dialogue, metions of anxiety, general repression of feelings

read part one here :)

chapter summary: a few months have passed since you met Brian, and the two of you have become rather good friends. Halfway the focus of the story shifts more toward’s Brian’s perspective, and focuses on his feelings and how he deals with them. This jumps back and forth from the current timeline to a few months prior.

——————————————————————————————-

friday night

It had been a few months since you’d become friends with Brian. The two of you had become rather inseparable since you met, at first, spending Tuesday and Thursday nights together—you tutoring him in French, and him helping you out with algebra. You felt as though you had known each other all your lives and quickly found a friendship form between the two of you. Even after you’d finish your lessons you’d stay at his flat a little longer, with him making you tea of playing you a new song he’d written about a polar bear on his guitar or god know’s what. There was just something about Brian, you thought, that spoke to you, beyond the music and the intelligence. You enjoyed one another’s company. On more than one occasion you’d ended up dozing off, with your head resting gently on Brian’s shoulder, and his head leaning against yours while Doctor Who played on the telly—which had raised eyebrows from many people, most of all Brian’s roommate, but you were friends, you thought, nothing more.

Now, he’s sat on the floor of his flat, your knees on either side of him, his notebook facing open on his lap, illegible scribbles of verb conjugations and other grammatical rules written across the pages as he sat with his legs crossed. 

“I wish you’d keep your curls,” you say as you run a brush through Brian’s hair, trying your best to be gentle and not tug so hard, your fingers delicate as they undo any tangles and knots you found. By the coffee table lay the hair straightener, as you waited patiently for it to heat up, its thick black cord uncoiled and plugged to a nearby outlet. You’d volunteered to do Brian’s hair, before tonight’s gig—seeing as he almost burnt his flat down the last time he’d tried to straighten his hair. Brian, being Brian, had found an excuse to squeeze in an extra study session, although it took some convincing on your part.

“I don’t,” Brian laughs, “wish my hair looked good—I look like I’ve just gotten electrocuted half the time! I’m gangly, awkward and I’ve got a huge nose—the straight hair redeems me, I think—makes me look halfway decent.” 

Your heart sinks a bit as you hear him talk about himself like this. You couldn’t bear hearing him think so little of himself when you thought the world of him.

“Well, I like them,” you say, with a pout, gently kicking Brian in the thigh with your foot.

“Ow!” Brian protests with mock indignation.

“Oh, piss off that didn’t even hurt,” you chuckle, before reaching over and grabbing the hair straightener. “Now hold still, alright?” Brian nods, turning his head away from you, trying to focus on his notes. “Right, allons-y! Pouvez-vous me lire? Je veux entendrer.”

Brian shifts nervously in place. “Oh, now? I thought we were only doing grammar today. Y/N, ’m afraid I haven’t had practice in a bit, but I promise—“

“Pouvez vous, parler en Français, s’il vous plait.“ You interrupt, casing your eyebrows at him rather sternly when he turns to look at you. “And stay still,” you add, “I don’t want to burn you.”

Brian laughs at that, pointing out how it’s unfair that you spoke in English just now, before you set him on track and tell him to just get on with the reading.

“Qu'est ce que voulez-vous que je lire?” Brian asks.

“Tu peux décider. Je n’ai pas de préférence.”

Brian holds his finger up for a moment telling you to pause the damage on his hair for a bit, before reaching over to his bag and pulling out a collection of Baudelaire’s poems—and you smile to yourself knowing he probably took it out of the library when he saw you reading it. He starts, slowly reading the words at first, but relaxes as you place your hand on his shoulders and urge him to continue.

“Un éclair… puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté 

Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,

Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité?—how was that?” Brian tries to turn his face towards yours though you keep him in place, taking a moment as you finishing straightening a strand before you speak again. 

“Très bien, Baudelaire aurait été fier!,” you praise, giving his head a gentle pat. “Although you still drop the accent egout on some places, but you’re getting there. You can speak French, you’ve just got to be a bit more confident, Bri. Maintenant, continuez s’il vous plait.”

He continues, reading out verses, with you listening intently, at first hesitant of any mistakes he might make, but relaxing as you tell him he’s doing better, helping him out only with a few words here and there. Eventually the two of you stop, choosing instead to listen and sing along to the Sgt. Pepper record while you finish straightening his hair. But that eventually spins its way to its end, and you and Brian, too preoccupied with his hair to get up and flip it over, just sit there quietly, and comfortably enjoying each other’s presence. 

—————————

Brian’s POV

As he sat there, feeling Y/N run her fingers delicately through his hair, Brian couldn’t help but sink into the warmth of her touch, feeling how relaxed he was around her—with her—near her. He listened to the static of the record, and the gentle pattern of Y/N’s breathing. Brian opened his mouth and turned his head slightly, as if to speak, before quickly turning away, choosing to say nothing, instead.

“What was that?” He heard Y/N ask him, straightening her back up off the couch and leaning her body towards him.

“Nothing,” Brian reassured her, his hand gently reaching for her knee for a brief moment. He said nothing more to her and instead let the silence take over, as the words he’d wanted to say hung in the air.

—————————

a few months prior 1969

Brian walked into class that morning, feeling, for the first time in his academic career, completely out of place. He was surrounded by younger students, all of whom he didn’t recognize from his department. And although it wasn’t anything truly serious, he felt his anxieties bubble in his stomach, at the thought of sticking out. He’d stick out as because he was older—because he was out of his department—because of how he looked, Brian thought. He didn’t like his nose, or his hair, or how skinny he was—his appearance already made him feel awkward and out of place, and now people were definitely going to notice him, an upper-year, awkwardly sat on the wooden chairs—probably struggling to keep up with the class because he was an idiot who’d put off his electives until his last year—

“Bonjour classe. Pouvez-vous vous asseoir, s'il vous plaît. Nous allons commencer sous peu.” Brian heard a tall, and rather stern looking woman say as she entered the class. “Sit down, please. We’ve ten minutes,” he heard her add when nobody moved.

Brian, along with everybody else began looking for seats, with Brian opting for a chair somewhere towards the back of the lecture hall. Brian ran his fingers across his pencil, not even noticing how he’d begun to strum a pattern of a song as he did. He looked around himself, before running his other hand over his hair, making sure that the front didn’t curl up and out. Eyes shifting towards the door he saw a girl enter the hall. She was very pretty, he thought. She craned her neck looking for a seat before situating herself a few seats down in front of Brian. Then Madame Augillard began speaking.

Their Professor seemingly refused to speak a word of English, Brian noted. To his relief he wasn’t the only person who looked lost, everyone else around him (including himself) seemed to scramble for their dictionaries, hastily flipping across the pages. Well, everyone except her, he thought. He stole a glance at her, raising her hand whenever the Professor had a question—and though Brian understood virtually none of the words they’d exchange, he could tell from Augillard’s smile that this girl was getting everything right.

Brian found the next few classes over the next few weeks easier than the first day, with the Professor noting that she only ever spoke strictly in French on the first day to discourage anyone who wouldn’t take the class seriously. Brian was still struggling, however—well, his definition of struggle that was. He got decent marks and all that, but he thought he could do better.  Not being satisfied with his grades enough, Brian opted to spend more time at the library, much to the disappointment of his bandmates, who were hoping to slip in as many rehearsals as they could. But Brian found that didn’t help either. 

Walking into the library, Brian glanced around for a seat, only to find her, sat comfortable in a corner, brows furrowed as she scribbled down notes. He found out rather quickly that he could always find her there. She was so intelligent, he thought, so focused. He studied the way her eyes read over her textbooks, the way she fidgeted with the edges of her notebooks when she was concentrated. He mentally chastised himself in class or at the library, telling himself to focus, and feeling guilty and weird at how often he’d stolen a glance at her.

One lecture, as Brian sat in Augillard’s class, he found that he wasn’t listening to the lecture, really, but to a song he’d hear whenever he saw her. His composition notebook, rather than being endless lists of verb conjugations and overly complicated grammatical rules were instead filled of scribbling pages and pages of a words, some crossed out, some riddled with question marks—a song he didn’t know the words to just yet.

—————————

friday, late night

A bead of sweat rolled down Brian’s brow as he pushed the amplifier into Roger’s van. He, Roger and Tim all thought they’d played quite well, but much to their disappointment, there were only a handful of people who attended tonight’s gig—but Y/N was there, and that seemed to make up for it. Y/N had gone home, much to her chagrin, helping a well-pissed Suzie walk the two blocks home as she draped her arm on her shoulders. When she’d found out that Roger had written a song about a girl he was seeing who was definitely not her, she had, according to Y/N, decided to get “very much, thoroughly, and without a doubt piss-drunk.” 

“This yours?” Roger asked, interrupting Brian’s train of thought. He held out a composition notebook, but before Brian could nod his head ‘yes’ and take it from his friend, Roger yanked it away, holding it above himself and refusing to give it back. “Who’s this about, though?” He asked Brian, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner. He opens the notebook and begins to read. 

“On such a breathless night as this. Upon my brow the lightest kiss—oh very poetic, Brian.” Roger grins mischievously, his laughter erupting in bubbling fits as Brian runs circles around him, trying to grab at him. Roger continued reading, “I walked alone, and all around the air did say ‘my lady soon will stir this way—“

“Will you give me that back?” Brian demands, almost lunging towards Roger, who’d by now made his way up one of their speakers, dangling the notebook above Brian as he continued to read out of it.

“Needing - unheard, Pleading - one word—oh, Brian, you’re a next generation Shelley, you are!”

“Will you stop acting like a child, Rog!” Brian demands.Roger grabs Brian’s arm as it reaches for him, before giving him a look of feigned shock, and widening his blue eyes at his friend. “Give it back,” Brian says rather pathetically, wringing his hands away from Roger.

“Tell me who it’s about and I might—I’m curious, you never wax poetry, not even about that bird you shagged in April. Did you even shag her—“

“Oi! Get off the speaker’s those cost a fortune!” Tim yelled from down the street. Tim walked towards his bandmates, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as Roger hopped off the speaker, not even looking the least bit embarrassed to be caught, but rather, smiling widely at Brian, who by now, was fuming. “Christ, I’m gone a few minutes to pay our venue, and you lot are out here doing all this.” Tim continues.

“It’s Rog’s fault!” Brian stomps, sounding almost like a petulant child when he hears the words come out of his mouth. “Sorry,” he adds quickly, feeling embarrassment creep up into his cheeks as he tried looking Tim in the eye.

“Brian’s in love—or bewitched—possibly both,” Roger says quite musically, turning to face Brian before he flutters his eyelashes at him. Tim yanks the notebook from Roger’s grasp and hands it to Brian, before exasperatedly muttering at the two to just finish packing and get in the car.

————

saturday morning

“Briaaaannnnn,” Roger drawled, as he lay on the couch, very much hungover as his legs draped over the back as he let his head fall off the seat, his blonde hair swinging with every shake of his head, “Who’s it for, Bri—“

“Stop. I’m trying to study,” Brian retorted, as he sat on the couch, never taking his eyes off his textbook to look at his friend beside him.

“Studying—it’s a fucking Saturday, Bri! Get some rest, get drunk, go out! Christ it’s not French again is it?” Roger said as he began shifting on the couch, turning to lay his head on one of the armrests, and effectively nudging Brian off the couch as he tried to stretch his legs. Roger winced at the volume of his own voice.

“Bloody hell, Roger, get your feet off the couch I’ve no room!” Brian complained, trying to push Roger’s feet back by settling himself back on the couch, struggling to be comfortable

“Why the fuck are you even taking French anyway? Could have dropped it for an easy one. Don’t even need it to be a physicist—”

“Astrophysicist,” Brian began, standing up, finally. “And this isn’t French it’s for my physics final on Monday—and I happen to like taking French. I’m not just here to get a degree, y’know—it’s the pursuit of knowledge—“

“You just like spending time with Y/N–“ Roger interrupted. Brian stared at him for a few seconds before swatting at his friend’s feet with his textbook.

“Ow! Shit! What the bloody fuck was that for?” Roger protested, though Brian barely grazed him and he tried to kick and flail his legs up to get at Brian.

Brian huffed, crossing his arms as he raised his brows at his friend. “Don’t you have a biology exam to study for?” He said, rather indignantly.

“Hah. Didn’t I tell you? I’m exempted.” Roger says with a cheeky grin, propping his feet back up on the couch. “That’s that natural brilliance I s’pose—some of us don’t need to study,” he muses, reaching over to the coffee table to get his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Brian made his way to the kitchen, huffing as he sat himself on the small, short chairs, frowning as Roger stretched his legs up in the air as if to taunt him. After a few moments, his friend poked his head from behind the couch, his chin resting on his arms as he crossed them.

“So it’s about Y/N then, I reckon.” Roger says, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he lights it.

Brian doesn’t answer, but his face does flush, and he holds up his textbook rather impractically to cover his face.

Gotcha. Roger thinks. “So you fancy her then.” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows a bit as Brian finally looks up at him.

“We’re just friends, really, Rog—”

Roger takes a long drag out of his cigarette, “You think I don’t see the two of you sprawled out on this here couch every other night—“

“We were studying. For French—“

“Her hands running through your hair? Yeah you lot was studying French alright,” Roger rolls his eyes, “next thing you know you’ll tell me you’re reviewing Isaac bloody Newton’s three laws of gravity while she’s got her hands down your trousers jerking you off—“

“She was straightening my hair—she was being nice.” Brian interrupted, snapping his textbook shut, nostrils flaring as his mouth forming a straight, hard line and he stood up out of his chair. Roger’s smile faded and his expression began to soften.

“Brian,” Roger said with a gentler tone, before promptly putting his cigarette out and swinging his legs over to straddle the couch “I’m sorry, that was out of line. But there’s no need to lie to me, we’re mates, you can tell me anything—I won’t even make fun of you if it actually bothers you. Sorry if it did.” 

“S’alright” Brian said quietly, sitting back down again. 

“So, you must really like her then, huh?” Roger asks, his voice kinder, and eyes focused on his friend. He made his way to sit himself opposite Brian by the kitchen. Brian, doesn’t respond, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of his textbook as he stares at the floorboards, although Roger gets his answer from the silence alone. “So why don’t you tell her then, she’s not seeing anyone, is she?”

Brian is silent before shaking his head and speaking. “We’re friends, Rog nothing more. And even if I was interested in her in that way—it’s not a chance I’d want to take, I mean, what if I make things awkward, or we never speak again. I don’t think you understand that you can just be friends with girls without doing anything, honestly, Rog.” Brian tries to shrug it off with a laugh. They were just friends, he thought. And although he might have fancied her, he truly valued their friendship, and she seemed to as well. He would regret it if he chose to be selfish and ruined that.

Roger just stares at him, his brows furrowed, and his mouth curved into a frown, seeming rather unconviced with his friend before getting up with a sigh and a pat on Brian’s shoulder. 

“If I were you, I’d take my chances,” he tells Brian, before turning on his heel and flopping himself back onto the couch, leaving Brian in the kitchen alone.

——

Later that night Brian sat on his bed, his composition notebook open to him as he tuned his guitar. Roger had left—something about bar-hopping with Farokh, which Brian had kindly declined, opting for a night in. Brian sat in his room, his fingers gently strumming over his strings, leaning in to the warm glow of his bedside lamp beside him.

This was stupid, he thought. Why was he even bothering finishing this song? 

When he first wrote it down it started out as a few words that gradually blossomed into sentences every day he’d see her pass him by at the library, the sunlight streaming in to illuminate her, small particles of dust floating around her, making her look ethereal. But now—now that he knew her, and heard her laughter, and seen her smile. Now, Brian found as though he was discovering new words to his song, and heard the melody clearer than before every day that he knew her. 

Maybe Roger was right. Maybe he should take his chances, he thinks back to their conversation earlier. But there was no point in finishing it. They were meant to be friends. They were good as friends. Nothing more. It would ruin things, anyway.

 But Brian knew he had to get the song out of his head eventually, or he might just go mad, he thought. Brian reached over, grabbing his pencil, writing out the words he heard so clearly in his mind. He read over them carefully, his voice small and gentle before he began to sing. Then he began adding music to it, strumming gently with his sixpence between his fingers.

When his song ended he let the last words disappear into the silence of his room, and he couldn’t help but feel further away from Y/N than when he didn’t know her.

TRANSLATIONS:

“allons-y! Pouvez-vous me lire? Je veux entendrer.” = Let’s go, can you read to me? I want to hear…”

“Pouvez vous, parler en Français, s’il vous plait.“ = Speak in French, if you please.

“Qu'est ce que voulez-vous que je lire?”  = “What do you want me to read?”

“Tu peux décider. Je n’ai pas de préférence.” = (informal version of ‘you’ indicating comfort, and casual tone) You can decide. I don’t have a preference.

“Très bien, Baudelaire aurait été fier!” = Very good! Baudelaire would have been proud!

Maintenant, continuez s’il vous plait.= Now, continue, please.

“Bonjour classe. Pouvez-vous vous asseoir, s'il vous plaît. Nous allons commencer dans quelques minutes” = Good morning class, please sit down. We will begin in a few minutes.

À une passante de Charles Baudelaire

La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.

Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,

Une femme passa, d’une main fastueuse

Soulevant, balançant le feston et l’ourlet;

Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.

Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,

Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l’ouragan,

La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.

Un éclair… puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté

Dont le regard m’a fait soudainement renaître,

Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l’éternité?

Ailleurs, bien loin d’ici! trop tard! jamais peut-être!

Car j’ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,

Ô toi que j’eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais!

TRANSLATION:

The deafening street around me roared.

Tall, slim, in deep mourning,  majestic grief,

A woman passed, lifting and swinging

With a pompous gesture the hem and flounces of her skirt,

Swift and noble, with statuesque limb.

As for me, I drank, twitching like a crazy man,

From her eye, livid sky where the hurricane is born,

The softness that fascinates and the pleasure that kills,

A lightning flash… then night! O fleeting beauty,

By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,

Shall I see you again only in eternity?

Somewhere else, way too far from here! Too late! Perhaps never!

For I do not know where you flee, you don’t know where I go,

O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!

[joonsneptune]

Delivery Man✧ MYG

(Suga x Reader)

Tags: smut (kinda), suga x she Warnings: smut, strong langauge, fingering Word Count: 2k

“I don’t like this bridge, we need to change it.” His fingers travel along the bright screen in the dark room, showing the part he was talking about as the song kept playing on the speaker.

The melody was pretty sweet and calming, it reminded the spring weather and you could almost taste some pink cotton candy straight out amusement park, even if it was in the middle of winter and everything we ate as about to burn our tongues. A lyric with a deep and touching message kept pace, but we were not focusing on that part today. We were trapped in this studio for over twelve hours to do the final review of the songs we were delivering tomorrow and we still had five more ahead. All this because Yoongi and his perfectionist side found little details that, in his opinion, could be changed, even if they made no difference, even if they were already perfect.

"Are you sure?" My head burned with pain and my body was sore, I had to be careful to not sound so rude with him, letting my lack of patience to show, for the sake of the songs that would still come. "It fits well with Jimin's solo."

"Maybe it's the bass..." He ignores me completely, causing me to roll my eyes and turn the chair to the other side, turning my back on him and the computer. His quick fingers change the frequency and come back for another fifteen seconds, going over the bridge, this time with a higher bass, which makes my body shiver all over and I know that yours had the same reaction when he let out a big murmur. "No, it's not." Yoongi continues to whisper to himself as he returns the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, changing all the kind of sound effect he could. "Do you have any suggestions?" His voice sounds low, after long minutes ignoring my existence while screwing up the music.

I spin the chair enough to see a part of his face, still turning my back on the computer, and shrug. I sit comfortably in the chair, pulling my feet from under my body and tossing them onto the arm of the couch next to us, feeling my warm foot come in contact with the cold leather and my back burn with the change of position. "I still think it was better before." My head falls to the side, dragging on the cushion of the chair as I feel him turn his face towards me, waiting for me to say something else, I just stare into his eyes almost covered under the cap and by his black hair, in silence.

"Is that all?" Yoongi has had enough just as I had, it was noticeable in his voice. I nod, resting my hands on my belly. He turns to the screen, after a sigh comes out of his lips, making it clear that somehow my words had come into his mind, and the play button of the music without the modifications is pressed. His head goes down along with the shoulders and his eyes aim the ground, I feel that he starts to focus on the sound coming from the speaker.

The song is perfect for the band's comeback, the melody and the mood matched the new concept of the album and made me want to close my eyes to relax. It was ready. The modified one starts right after, making me uncomfortable in the chair. It seemed messy and the relaxing mood was gone, bringing something I was not able to decipher, Yoongi felt that too. His eyes stared the screen, his now tense shoulders denounced that he was not satisfied and soon the delete button was being pressed. I celebrate shaking my hands and shoulders on the air, seeing his full face again as we re-align our chairs and, unable to hold a smile on my lips, I leave a hot, wet kiss on his cold cheek.

"That's all," I say, lifting my legs above his, leaving them there. I see a tiny smile appear on his lips as he rub the sleeve of his coat over his wet cheek. "You can thank me and say how amazing I am producing music now, I'm ready to hear it." I joke, running my fingers behind the ears, pulling my hair out so they are exposed.

His icy fingers fall on my legs as a low chuckle comes out of his mouth, his back curving slightly, causing a few strands of his hair to move out of place, lips moistened by the tongue sliding around. "I can not say that. Your ego will make you float away here and we still have some songs to check out." A playful tone comes out of his voice and my smile increases even more, feeling him relax slowly. "But can I thank you for asking for food for us?"

"Oh, please!" I shifted my body forward, feeling the warmth of the leather beneath me disappear as I made my way to his lap. Yoongi's hands find my waist as I approach him, sticking our bodies in a matter of seconds. A small laugh escapes from my lips as his lips were already on my neck, shivering every hair in me. "Can you order our food first?" I open a space between us, my hands pushing his shoulders, so he can reach into his pocket where his cell phone was.

"Are you serious?" I nod, locking my lips between my teeth, he roll his eyes as his hand goes to the pocket on his pants, picking up the cell phone. Yoongi begins to read the options we had at this time of night, my stomach giving leaps of happiness just hearing it, and my mouth salivates. The last time we ate it was ten in the morning and now, almost at midnight, anything looked delicious. We ended up decided on Chinese food, my favorite.

We started a light conversation about the songs for the next album and how nervous he was to see the fans reaction with everything ready. My hands went up and down his body as his did not leave my waist, pressing my fingers against my skin when his excitement was bigger than he could hold and his little smile increased, making my heart in love melt with every new laugh. Beneath me, his breath was light, his eyes shining and blinking rapidly, and under his hair his ears were lightly red with the cold of the studio.

I can no longer pay attention to his words when I realize that my legs was straddling him in the chair with the help of my weight. His hands rested on my waist, but they could have been forcing my hips to his while I did my best to have him moaning my name. I need to blink a few times to get back to reality, agreeing quickly with what Yoongi was saying, even though I had no idea what it was. And I scare myself when I feel that my panties were already wet inside the jeans, just with the thought of having sex right there, which would not be a bad idea. The studio was one of the places we had not done yet. Yet.

The clock near the door showed that it was past midnight, what were the odds of someone still in the building?

Then, slowly, I start teasing Yoongi. First, I pretend I need to get something in the back pocket of my pants, feeling the jeans shave on his legs. Then I find something to see on the computer behind me, spinning in his lap as if I were in a chair with wheels, managing to take out a low growl from his lips and a tight grip on my waist, feeling my insides tremble. And, well, my boyfriend knew my body.

"You know it's easier if you say what you want, right?" The space between us disappears, my back going against his chest and my butt pressed down where I wanted to, I need to bite my lips to not let out a moan, now having him holding me in his lap. "Princess, use your words." His lips rasped in my ear and his husky voice made my eyes close, enjoying every syllable he spoke. "Don’t make me ask twice."

"I want to hear you calling my name." I press my hips against his, making my intentions clear. He laughs.

"You can’t do this type of request, babe. You should know it." The warmth of his breath hits my neck, his fingers coming out of my waist and going to meet my wet panties under my pants. "Already so wet for me? How kind of you." The meeting ends as quickly as it started, I can hear the noise it makes when it smells at its fingertips. "You have the permission to ride my cook, princess." And before he finished the sentence, I turned my body back, resting my hands on his shoulders, the friction of my jeans with his was not one of the best, but it was enough to start. I'm careful to not mark his neck when my teeth find it, giving slight bites to his collarbone.

The zipper of my pants is open until the end, my shirt meets the floor, his coat falls on the couch and my bra falls on the keyboard next to us. His fingers finally find their way to my soaking wet pussy, a loud moan escapes my lips followed by Yoongi's smirk. "This never gets old. How you're always so wet and needy for me."

My head leans down, going to lay my forehead against her shoulder, but his fingers tighten my jaw, locking my gaze with his. "I want to see you call my name." My previous request now turns his command and I do my best to not close my eyes of pleasure when his finger penetrates me without a warning going up and down inside me slowly, making me suck air. Being filled with those dark eyes full of pleasure staring at every movement and every groan, made me even more excited, wanting more. The other hand that slid through my exposed skin and shivered with cold, finds my hard nipples, squeezing them tightly.

"Yoongi!" My head tilts slightly to the side without breaking our gaze.

"Very good, princess. Keep being a good girl." Yoongi's words or lips scraping with mine doesn’t help at all, nor does their volume beneath me, letting some low moans come out as the second finger enters, hitting all the right spot as soon as it arrives. The speed increased, I could no longer hold back the moans, my fingers squeezing his shoulders so hard that my finger knots were white.

"Faster pl-please." That's what I can say as I stare at him, feeling the third finger come in shortly. My groans were loud in the closed and cold studio, since my skin had a few drops of sweat, just like Yoongi's forehead. Our mouths meet as the hands that were tightening my nipples rise up to my scalp, pulling a handful of hair so my head could be controlled. Without take too much time, his hot tongue enters my mouth, making me moan in the kiss. "Yoongi, i'm-

~DING DONG~

The bell rings loudly, my body jumps in fright and Yoongi's fingers stop moving, staying inside me. "The delivery man." His eyes stare into mine and I find myself groaning as he pushes me out of the chair and away from his fingers so I get to answer the door. "I can’t answer the door, look at me!" My voice remains low as I use my hand to point at my hair and body, which should be a mess.

"I'm not going to get the food with a hard dick." His voice was even lower, fingers pointing at his tight pants between his legs. The bell rings again. "One minute!” Yoongi screams and stares at me again, groaning once more, seeing that he will not get up, I put on his coat to hide my body and go to the nearest mirror, pulling my hair down. "You don’t have to dress up for the delivery boy. I’m the one fucking you later, not him."