#gotta throw them in a box and shake it around and whoever I pull out first gets the image

[zipas]

Pls send me funny textposts/incorrect quotes its surprisingly difficult to find unedited ones

[riaki]

moneyload | satoru gojo x reader (implied fem)

this is for @satoruoo + everyone who’s tired of my angst | 1k wc

satoru likes spoiling you.

no— like would be the world's greatest understatement. satoru feels about spoiling you the way he feels about you— he doesn’t just like you, he‘s utterly enamored with you. if you asked, he'd move mountains for you. or give up a portion of his candy; both are equitable in his bright eyes. he loves you so much that he'd skip a basketball session with suguru or leave in the middle of the fight to throw the leftover scraps of a cursed spirit to whoever was unlucky enough to be there at the time; you're more important. you've always been.

yeah, that’s gotta be it. a perfect way to paint his feelings for you on a pure canvas brightened by your smile, light as a feather and lively as the sun. and you're completely deserving, he thinks— you, who's always been so patient and kind with him.

as such, he thinks it’s a crime to waste such a beautiful figure on things less than lavish dress and delicate jewelry; but to be honest, he thinks you could don a potato sack and still make it look exquisite. nevertheless, each time you protest when he drapes another dainty necklace glittering with gems cut from a million-dollar wallet and 58 facets (all the reasons he loves you— that's what he calls them.), he shushes you promptly with a swift, sweet kiss; you get a noseful of his expensive cologne every time he sidles up to you and gets comfortable. which, for the record, is quite often.

out of everything he gets you; bouquets of beautiful speckled flowers that look as if a painter dumped their entire palette of pastels and pretties onto the petals, sweet chocolates dark with the tiniest amount of cherry liquor in the center ("i don't need them— i already get drunk off of you, sweetheart!"), fragrant perfume or the latest comfortable clothing that catches his eye (this one's less common. he likes it better when you're only in his clothes.), jewelry is the one he always finds his way back to the most often.

why? well, if you ask him— there's nothing better than being sprawled on your couch with his head in your lap, nuzzling into your warm hand as he catches a whiff of the perfume he gifted you last week paired with the reddest rose he could find on your wrist. your hands card through his hair, and he uses the opportunity to catch your arm before you can move any further, giving you a smug grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

(it's a little embarrassing the amount of times you've thought he was going to propose from that alone.)

you'll open it, and it'll be a pretty silver necklace that matches the one around his neck, or a gold ring with ornate details that he slips onto your fingers after taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile and a laugh. sometimes it's a bracelet adorned with rich jewels the color of your eyes; maybe something rose quartz to represent the flush on his cheeks you always seem to elicit or a marigold yellow to show the pure joy he gets from being around you. if you ask him about it, he'll just say, "i wasn't kidding when i said i get drunk off of you, baby." with a boyish giggle that's far too charming to not have been used in his younger years to get his way and a sweet little wink of an afterthought that has your heart racing.

on the occasions when the gift is far less... appropriate, you'll always sigh and chastise him with a shake of your head because you both know the fabric will be torn to shreds in a matter of a few minutes. he does it anyway, though. he's always been a little bit of a brat in that sense.

whatever it ends up as, satoru absolutely adores seeing your reactions; the cute flush on your cheeks when you accept it with a little thanks and a kiss to his cheek, leaning forward on the tips of your toes because he's too tall for his own good. maybe even to hook a finger around the bridge of his sunglasses for lips to lips, if he's lucky. of course, he knows he doesn't have to buy your affection— you've made that abundantly clear in moments he doesn't like to think about as anything more than vulnerability when he's worn out, but there's just something about you that makes him want to pile it on. he's always had more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.

and maybe, just maybe— one day he'll dare to hope for a future past school hallways, flattering dresses and skirts or sneaky kisses when he's a little sweaty and his jacket is in your arms and you're on the bleachers, hijacking shoko's pack of cigarettes while the squeak of shoes on the gym floor and the sound of a basketball rattling in the hoop fills your ears. past nights when you're curled up in his arms and he can comfortably rest his head in the crook of your neck, tucked away where it always should be (and always will be).

he'll hope for days when he gets to wake up to you by his side, a silver band with so much more meaning than the fifth one he's given you that week on your ring finger and a matching one on his own, because satoru loves you so much that he'd empty out the vaults of a bank just to make you smile at him. not in the hollow way his father always had at home, or in the obligatory resolute smiles of the servants on his estate, but in a genuine way; a way no one else (except his mom) had ever come close to because if he sold everything he ever had for you, his world would still be right in front of him, holding his hands and kissing his face in spontaneous bursts of love, like shooting stars dancing across his cheeks as a way of thanks.

...so, maybe satoru likes spoiling you so much because you always seem to return tenfold.

if u looked at my search history you'd see 'how many cuts does a diamond have' and 'what are the chocolates with alcohol in them called' my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

●Grayson Waller x Austin Theory x Logan Paul x Reader●

Summary: They all fight over your attention being the newest, biggest signing to Smackdown.

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

"Everyone please welcome.... the newest member of the Smackdown roster....."

The lights go out and I walk onto the top of the ramp looking down. A spotlight comes on, my music hits and a camera guy is right infront of me as I smile pulling my sunglasses down and wink at the camera. The crowd erupts with cheers as all the lights comes back on and I walk down to the ring. I high-five some of the fans than climb into the ring with Mike Rome. I walk over next to him pushing my sunglasses onto my head and grabbing the extra microphone from him.

"Heyyy Mike. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great Y/N. How are you?"

"I am fantastic now that I am out here infront of all of these beautiful people!"

The crowd cheers loudly.

"Well you are Nick Aldis' newest superstar on Smackdown. What can we expect from you going forward?"

"Great question Mike. You can expect me to be.... Women's Champion. So whoever is women's champion after Wrestlemania, better be ready because I am coming after you."

I throw the microphone down on the mat, put my sunglasses back over my eyes, pull them down a little, winking at the camera. My music hits and I exit the ring heading up the ramp and to the back.

_________________________________________

*nearing the end of Smackdown*

I am leaning on one of the production boxes backstage playing on my phone when two guys come walking over to me. The one leans on the box next to me and the other sits down next to him looking at me. I look up at them and smile.

"Hello!"

"Hello there beautiful. I'm Austin."

"And I'm Grayson."

"Ahhh A Town Down Under. I love watching your matches. Very entertaining."

"Thank you. Can't wait to see your matches."

"Thank you. I gotta get going but it was nice meeting you two. I'll see ya around."

I boop Austin's nose and pat Grayson's leg before heading down the hallway towards my locker room. I get to my locker room door but before I can open it, someone comes running up to me. I look up seeing a fluffy, blonde haired man holding the U.S. title on his shoulder.

"Hi! Y/N right?"

"That's me!"

"Logan Paul. U.S. Champ."

He puts his hand out and I shake his hand smiling up at him. He looks at me and smiles making my heart skip a beat.

"Nice to meet you Logan. What can I help you with?"

"Just wanted to come introduce myself. Get to meet you. You are even more gorgeous in person. Like. Woah."

I giggle looking up at him.

"Thank you Logan. Would you like to come into my locker room? I was getting ready to leave."

"Yeah! I got my bags! Do you need a ride back to your hotel?"

I walk into my locker room as he follows me.

"Would you do that for me? We are staying at the same hotel right?"

He tells me his hotel which is the same as mine.

"Sounds good. Let me grab my stuff than we can head out."

I throw all my stuff in my duffle bag and my backpack. I throw my backpack on my back than the strap of my duffle bag over my shoulder.

"Alright! I'm all ready!"

"Let's go!"

He opens the door for me and lets me go first. I walk out and he follows me closing the door. We walk next to each other down the hallway when we happen to run into Austin and Grayson leaving their locker room.

"Hey Austin! Grayson!"

They both turn and look at me and Logan.

"Where are you two going?"

"Oh Logan is giving me a ride back to the hotel. How about you two?"

"We are going with you two. Logan said he would give us a ride too."

Logan is shaking his head no at them behind my head so I can't see him.

"Oh man Logan! That is so sweet of you!"

I turn to look at him and he is smiling really big.

"It's not a problem guys. I gotchu!"

"Let's get going than boys!"

I start walking and they all follow behind me. Logan runs up and walks next to me while the other two stay behind us. We walk out to the parking lot and up to Logan's car. He runs up to the passenger side door, opens it and motions for me.

"You first, my lady."

I smile, take my backpack and duffle bag off and he takes them from me. I climb in and he closes the door. I look in the mirror seeing Grayson, Austin and Logan arguing. I open the window a little trying to hear what they are arguing about.

"No dude. Shes mine. Me and her would make a perfect couple. In and out of the ring."

"No Logan. She would be great for our team. Shes mine."

"Wait Austin, you want her just as much as I want her."

"Yeah and?"

They continue arguing when I climb out of the car and look at them with my arms crossed, shaking my head. They all stop and look over at me, faces getting red.

"I am not an object you can just claim as your own. I am a human being. I have feelings, emotions and thoughts. You should be acting like men and getting to know me. Not just saying she's mine like you are claiming me as a prize. Now...."

I grab my backpack and my duffle bag out of the back of the car.

"You three think about what I said and I will see you next week."

I look over seeing Naomi and Bianca standing at their taxi putting their bags in the back and they motion for me to come over to them. I walk over looking at them.

"We heard what happened. Get in the taxi with us. We are going to the same hotel."

"Thank you."

I put my bags in the back and close the hatch looking over at them one last time before I climb into the taxi.

[frogtanii]

“hi everyone,” you gave your webcam a half hearted wave, noting the flood of inquisitive comments at your demeanor.

ynismymommy: omg queen r u ok??????

emilia.95: Have you been sleeping?

atsumus-leftballsack: bestie imma need you to invest in some concealer

a giggle pried it’s way up your throat, despite your attempts to stop it as you read the comments. yes, you were fully aware that you looked like shit however, you just weren’t expecting the viewers of your stream to be so... observant.

“holy shit guys, i’m okay,” you attempted to placate your vicious audience by giving them a (forced) smile and a small chuckle. “let’s just play, okay?”

you loaded up your game of choice (call of duty — you had a lot of aggression to work off) while making idle chatter with your fanbase. they seemed to have dropped conversation about your heavy eye bags and low enthusiasm in favor of more lighthearted topics.

just as you were starting to get into it, a knock sounded at your door. at first, you were tempted to ignore it but after a few moments of silence, the knocking started up again, more incessantly. your comments started to go wild, wondering who exactly was banging on your door at like 11p.

bokutos.bahamamommamilkers: tell whoever is @ the door to fuck off

shartyba3_420: damn slam me yn like [redacted] is slamming on that door

Greg_72: Hey, you can go answer that! We’ll wait <3

you apologize quickly before removing your headphones and scurrying over to the door. swinging it wide open, you’re met with bokuto.

and what a sight he is.

once bright, golden eyes were now dull and void, accompanied by dark circles that rivaled your own while his usually sunny visage was dampened by this metaphorical dark cloud that was hanging above him.

in other words, he looked like shit.

the both of you must look like quite a pair — you in your ratty, oversized hoodie and red sweats and him in his white t shirt and flannel pajama pants. after giving him another glance over, you repressed the urge to pull him into your room and into a hug, instead choosing to wrap your arms around yourself tightly.

“um, hey bo,” you started, unable to keep your eyes on his face. “i’m really sorry but i’m streaming right now. maybe we can hang out later?”

bokuto shook his head no, and your heart began to sink. you were just so tired and you didn’t have the energy to entertain or comfort the man at the moment without letting another piece of yourself crumble but you knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

resigning yourself to your fate, you stepped to the side to let him into your room, making a mental note to shield him from your webcam while you brought him to lie on your bed.

to your complete and utter surprise, bokuto did not move, shaking his head no again before moving to grab something just out of your sight behind your doorway.

you were now thoroughly intrigued, shuffling closer to peek into the hallway, only to be stopped by a box being thrusted into your hands. you looked over the colorfully painted cardboard but it gave you no indication as to what was on the inside and glancing at kotarou gave you no help whatsoever.

“what’s this?” you voiced your confusion while weighing the box in your hands, the confusion only amplifying when you discover the box is suspiciously light. you’re shaken from your investigation when bokuto throws another object in your hands, this one significantly heavier.

looking up at him, you’re taken aback by the emotion swirling in his irises, his mouth finally parting to speak. “i’m so sorry,” kotarou’s voice, while gravelly from disuse, was sincere, a slight quiver being found underlying his words. “i- i know i never said it but i just want you to know that i-i care about you and that i am so sorry for ever hurting you and making you feel like you were less than. y-you’ve helped me become myself again a-and i can never thank you enough.”

a shuddering breath left his chest as he trained his eyes on the ceiling before looking back at you with watery eyes. “you don’t have to forgive me. i-i’d understand.” you opened your mouth to respond, to rebut, but you were cut off by his strong arms, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into his hold, a small ounce of stress leaving your body at his words but the bulk of it remaining. he’s just apologizing because you’re the only girl who’s shown him an ounce of kindness, the voice in the back of your head whispered.

as bokuto pulled you in tighter, you stiffened, the voice getting louder and more constant. the man holding you didn’t miss the way you tensed and hesitantly removed himself from you, his hurt written plain all over his face.

kotarou gave you a weak smile and another gentle apology before turning and leaving for his room. you already felt guilt creeping up your spine for not holding him the way you thought you should but you quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserved if you’d done so.

letting out a deep sigh, you shut your door and moved back to continue your stream, not before gently setting down the 2 colorfully decorated boxes on the bed, a small smile creeping across your face at the sight of the gifts.

your stream ended pretty shortly after, your mind unable to focus on the game — it was getting borderline embarrassing how often you were dying to the point you were worried your sponsors would pull out of supporting you.

with a soft smile and goodbye, you collapsed on your bed, mindful not to crush the boxes. while you were extremely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without examining your gifts’ contents.

you decided to open the heavier box first which yielded bag after bag of your favorite chips, candies, and drinks. you knew your mouth was gaping unattractively but you couldn’t help it. this was... way too much.

at the bottom of the box was a small note, written in bokuto’s somehow endearing chicken scratch. it read, “hi yn!!!! this is for when you get hungry :) i know i didn’t let you eat any of my snacks for a long time so i thought it would be nice if i bought some for you!!!!! i hope i got these all right :( i asked atsumu for help!!!”

a choked chuckle escaped your lips and it only amplified as you continued to the end of the note. “p.s. don’t worry about not finishing it all!!! i can always help you ;) p.p.s. also you’re so pretty!!!! don’t not eat it because you don’t think so too <3”

wiping your eyes that had become suspiciously misty, you set down the slip of paper and reached for the second box.

you couldn’t keep the gasp from coming from you as the cardboard overflowed with tiny slips of paper. with shaky hands, you unfolded the first paper, the tears overflowing over your lashline before you could stop them.

you are loved :) - akaashi

“fuck,” you whispered, swiping at your face before clumsily reaching for another, and then another, each note making you cry harder than the last.

you are beautiful!!!!! never change!! - bokuto!!!

you’re really cool - kenma

you are so kind and i owe you the world - sugawara :)

you’re sympathetic, observant, and intelligent. - sakusa.

you are patient (even when we don’t deserve it) - kuroo

yer my angel <3 - tsum tsum

there were a ton more but you promised yourself you’d read them all later, your emotions getting the better of you. you’d rather not wake up with puffy, swollen eyes and a headache so you decided it would be best to close the box and finish it all later.

laying back on your bed, you expelled a deep breath of air, not realizing just how tense you were. you’d been living on edge with the guys for at least a month now and it was really starting to wear on you.

without being able to fully trust them, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you crumbled under the pressure.

you glanced at your phone before sighing again (it really was that kind of day, wasn’t it). maybe it was about time to give dr yamada a long awaited call.

℗ poker face

you are loved :)

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - ooweee first single apology down, 4 more to go!!! also the box of papers came from everyone (obv) but they still gotta give their individual apologies hehe which shall come in the future <33 sorry this took so long KSJD i hope u enjoy!!! don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[ragingbookdragon]

To Fear Or Not To Fear, That Is The Question PT. 1

Lantern!Reader x Lanternfamily

Word Count: 2.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Mentions of PTSD

Author's Note: I wrote this story a while ago, but this ask made me post it! I'll get part two out sometime later! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She gripped the arm rests of her chair until her knuckles started to whiten, her heart pounded in her chest, so harshly against her rib cage that it began to hurt. The flashes spread across her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe as the mantra, “You’re home” flowed through her lips, though it didn’t quell the violent shaking in her body.

Their faces darted through her mind, expressions frozen in mixtures of shock, pain, and fear. She could feel herself slipping back there, could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her body, the sliding of her limbs in the burning desert sand, the splattering of hot blood from her teammates wounds, the smell of gunmetal and oil, of sweat—it was all coming back again, so fast, and all she could do was hold on and force herself to ground.

She had no idea what had set off the attack, but she did know that she was able to turn the lights off and sit down before it immobilized her with tremors. Clenching her hands into fists, she forced herself to bend over, pressing her forehead to her knees.

You’re home, (Y/N). You’re not in Afghanistan anymore. You’re alive. You’re here. The memories are there, but you’re not. Relax. Focus. Keep it together. Don’t give in. Hold—

An explosion rocked the side of the house, sending her to the floor and she gasped, automatically covering her head, waiting for the impact of mortar rounds and grenades. Another explosion sounded, followed by a bellow, and (Y/N) lifted her head up, crawling on al fours to the window. Gripping the window ledge, she pulled herself up and peeked over, eyes widening at the sight of two glowing figures throwing punches back and forth.

One of them was covered in a green glow, the other an angry red. She held the ledge and watched as the red one socked the other in the chest and they hit the ground, holding out their arms to protect themselves. The attacker lifted their hands and to her shock, a crimson block appeared above them. In an instant, she knew who the enemy was.

Her eyes darted to the lock box sitting on the shelf and forcing herself to get up, she ran to it, yanking it open and grabbing the contents. She sprinted to the door and shoved the clip into the 357 Magnum, pulling back the slide before flipping the safety off. (Y/N) slung the door open and ran down the front steps, kneeling in the grass as she raised the gun and closed one eye, taking sight of the target before her. With an intake of breath, she unloaded all nine rounds into the back of the glowing red person.

She wasn’t sure if it took them down because they started spurting more of the acid like blood, but it was the opening that the person below them needed, because the next thing (Y/N) knew, a flash of green sent the bellowing red enemy sky-high and out of sight.

Her arms suddenly felt weak, and she let them go slack, the Magnum landing by her hip. A groan sounded from the person in green and she stumbled to her feet, hurrying on weak knees to them.

They were laying in the grass, and when she got there, her jaw went slack when she saw their legs blown off a few feet away. (Y/N) went to her knees, already yanking her sweatshirt off, starting to tie tourniquets around the amputated appendages.

“Hey,” she breathed when they groaned. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m here to help.”

They opened their eyes and she blinked at how bright and green they were. “It is too late.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No. I’ll help you.” She swallowed the urge to vomit as the blue blood started soaking through her sweatshirt and on her hands. “You’re going to be okay.”

They reached out and grabbed her arm. “You must take my place.”

“I—what?” she asked, tying the knots tighter. “You need to get to a hospital. You’re bleeding out.”

“I have been bleeding out.” They laughed, blood splattering their chin. “Atrocitus’ minion has chased me long through the stars.”

“Atrocitus? Who?” (Y/N) shook her head. “Look, we need to get you help.”

“Your human healers cannot help me. I am at my end.” They squeezed her wrist. “You must take my place amongst the Green Lanterns. If the ring is left alone, someone could corrupt it.”

(Y/N) stared at them. “Rings? What?”

They raised their hand free hand and she saw a black band, a glowing green symbol in the center—she recognized the symbol; the Green Lantern in the Justice League wore it. Slipping it off, they handed it to her.

“Find the Four Corpsmen in this city. They will help you.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No. Right now, I need to help you.” Her eyes hardened. “I don’t know anything about alien physiology, but I will save you.”

Their eyes narrowed fondly, and they whispered, “I can see the fear you hold in your heart…that you could not save the ones you were supposed to protect from your enemies.” They swallowed, coughing harshly. “You can overcome this fear.” Holding out the ring again, they said, “The ring will guide you to the Four Corpsmen.”

She took the ring, flipping it over in her hand, and she caught sight of a dim green inscription. Squinting, (Y/N) read, “In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power—Green Lantern's light.”

The green ring suddenly moved on its own, sliding onto her finger and an otherworldly voice commanded, (Y/N) (L/N) of Earth. You have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps.

A warmth washed over her body, and she watched in shock as her clothes were replaced with a skintight black and green suit, but it didn’t feel restricting. It felt comfortable—it made her feel safe. A mask flashed across her eyes and when she looked down at the alien, their eyes had glazed over, mouth frozen in a smile.

(Y/N) felt her heart tighten and she breathed out, reaching over, gently closing their eyes. She stood from the body and wandered behind the house, returning with a shovel. It didn’t take long to dig out the hole and she was surprised that she wasn’t tired from the exertion as she lowered the body into it, before covering them with dirt and standing over the grave, her hands clasped together.

Wherever you’ve ended up, friend…I hope you’re at peace. She opened her eyes, a firm look in them. I’ll continue your mission.

She looked down at the ring on her finger, then up at the bright city in the distance. Gotta go into the city. (Y/N) turned and walked into the house, climbing the steps to her bedroom. Glancing down at the ring, she said, “Okay, ring. You gotta power down so I can change my clothes.”

Nothing happened and her brows furrowed.

“Power down?” Again nothing, and a bolt of irritation struck a nerve, and she clenched her fist, commanding, “Power down. Now.” The suit on her body faded and she sighed in relief. “Okay, so commands work.” (Y/N) moved into the shower. “Clean up first, then get dressed and leave.”

***

She kept to the back alleys of the city, which, given that it was nine o’clock, most of them were empty, still, she didn’t want to find trouble before she found the…what had the alien called them? Four Corpsmen?

(Y/N) shook er head and looked down at the ring on her finger. It hadn’t lit up again since she told it to stop. “Ring! Uh…show me where the Four Corpsmen are!”

The symbol in the middle lit up and a started making flashes, and in a panic, she shouted, “Do it inconspicuously!” A small green line slide along the ground and she smiled. “That’s better.”

Following it, she sprinted through the back streets until she came to a bar; she rolled her eyes. “Of course, they’re in a bar. What men.”

(Y/N) followed the line into the bar and when it disappeared, she blinked, looking around for whoever could fit the description of supposed Corpsmen. There were a few guys at the bar, a few playing pool, some at booths and tables…she had no idea who could possibly be who she was looking for.

Someone brushed past her with a small, “Excuse me, sweetheart.” Another dart of green appeared in her vision, and she saw it attached to his back as he flowed through the bar and to the back where a trio of young men were sitting. They cheered when he got back and he smiled, passing out four beers.

“Them?” she murmured to herself and before she could move, someone had her around the waist.

“Hey, babe. Lookin’ for company?”

(Y/N)’s face pinched, and she shrugged away from them. “No thanks. I’m not here for fun.”

“Now don’t be like that.” The guy reached for her and before he knew it, he found himself being slammed face first into a wooden post, collapsing down onto his back, out cold.

She happened to look up just as his friends were coming over from the pool table and she rolled her eyes, already lifting her hands, ready for a fight. Two came at her and she swiped a beer mug from a server, sloshing the beer in one’s face before she sidestepped, slamming the glass into the second’s head. (Y/N) flowed into the next step and threw her elbow out into the first’s throat. They both fell to the ground, and she tossed the handle aside, but before she could do anything, someone had her around the waist, hauling her up then slamming her down to the ground.

(Y/N) grunted as she lost her bearings, and somewhere over the noise and music of the bar, she heard more shouting, but she paid it no mind, scrambling to her feet when one of them shoved her backwards.

Someone caught her, shoving her back up, shouting, “Get your head in the game, lady! We got some assholes to lay flat!” Four men passed her, already throwing punches and spurred on, she threw herself back in the fight.

Within seconds, the bar fight was over, and she panted as the four guys leaned against the bar, all laughing, each picking up a beer mug to drink from. (Y/N) felt a bit worn and someone laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you good?”

She looked up at the man who had short cropped, ginger hair and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Glancing at the others, she said, “Thanks for the assist.”

One of them held out a hand. “You fight like a soldier.”

“Former special ops. Navy corpsman.” She replied, eyeing the dog tags around his neck as she shook his hand firmly. “Sergeant.”

“John,” he corrected with a smile, then gestured to his friends. “That’s Guy, Kyle, and Hal.”

(Y/N) shook their hands too. “Name’s (Y/N).”

One of them, Kyle, handed her a beer. “So, what brought you to the bar besides the bar-fight?”

She gazed into the liquid. “Uh…I’m looking for someone…multiple people actually.” Her eyes fell on them again. “But in the haze of the fight, I lost sight of whoever it was.”

Hal sent her a wink. “We’d be glad to help out a beautiful lady like yourself.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but since she didn’t have a better option, she murmured, “I’m looking for some men who are known as the ‘Four Corpsmen’.”

Immediately the mood shifted as their friendly faces dropped, all solemn as they looked at her. “Where did you hear that name?” John questioned and she met his gaze.

“I’m taking from the seriousness that you’re who I’m looking for then.” (Y/N) held out her hand. “The alien said you could help me with this…I don’t know how to work it.”

They all glanced down at her hand, well, the ring on her hand, eyes widening at the sight; Hal grabbed her wrist. “Where did you get this?”

“The alien. It was being attacked by something in red and I…” she looked away. “I shot it, but the alien, it…I couldn’t save it. Its wounds were too severe.” (Y/N) yanked her hand back, clenching it into a fist. “It told me to take its place amongst the Green Lanterns. To overcome my fear.” Swallowing thickly, she admitted, “I don’t how to do that…but it said you four could help me with it.”

She could tell the were mulling it over, quite possibly communicating with one another by the way they seemed to shoot each other looks, and she cracked a smile at how Guy cocked a brow and then gestured to her whilst looking at Kyle like he was an idiot.

But (Y/N) grew tired of their mental conversation and yanked the beer mug from Guy’s hand, ignoring his shout, and she down it before slamming it on the bar. “Look, I don’t what I’m supposed to do with this, and if I’m left to my own devices, I’ll probably do more damage than I would help people.” She stared them down. “Even if you don’t want to, help me so I don’t get innocent people killed.”

For a moment, they all looked at each other, then Guy reached over and pulled her around the neck, smirking at them. “I think she’s going to do great things with us, boys.”

Kyle winced. “Guy, maybe don’t put your arm around the woman who was former special forces?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “Don’t worry…I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

[hops-hunny]

Something I’d Get Used To

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.4k

Request: anon “Hey could I get a 9 & 21 for nev with a fem reader please fluff/smutt! Thank you!! :)”

Summary: (Y/n) doesn’t do love, but whatever her and Neville have is something she can get used to

Warnings: Slight angst in the beginning but vast majority fluff!

A/N: Hey anon, I decided to go with fluff so I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you have just as much reading it!

9. “Love’s a word I always hated.”

21. “I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.”

Love. A word that made (Y/n) sick to the very pit of her stomach, and Merlin’s knows not in a good way. (Y/n) was tired of the word love before she even knew what it meant. The word that held so much meaning. The word girls and boys alike waited sometimes their entire life to hear. She was sick of it. She had her parents to thank for that. Growing up, (Y/n)’s parents were always busy with work, leaving her with various different strangers referred to as “nannies”. At first she’d look forward to hearing the words, even reading them. “We love you dear, we’ll be home soon!” Each letter ended with this phrase. She remembered the long days that she’d sit by the front door, waiting for the owl to bring the letters to her. How she’d clutch them to her heart, cheering with glee as she’d read her to whichever nanny they had hired. 

However, each time they’d leave they would go for longer and longer, the letters would grow shorter and shorter until eventually they became nonexistent. She felt uncared for, unloved. When her parents got older they started to stay home more opting to work from home. She could still recall the fated conversation that made her hated that stupid little four letter word.

(Y/n) was ecstatic but tried not to show it that much. She knew how much her parents disliked when she would outwardly express obscene amounts of emotion and yet she couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face when they invited her out for dinner. They felt bad for all the important holidays and birthdays they had missed and to make up for it, they decided to take her out for one last grand hoorah before her departure to Hogwarts. 

“Mom, dad, can I ask you something?” she asked, playing with her fingers nervously. Although they were her parents, she always felt unsure of how to speak to them. The limited amount of time they had spent together were always cut short, leaving her parents to feel like distant strangers in her life. Her mom looked up from her phone, smiling at the girl.

“Of course dear, what is it?”

“I...I wanted to know why the letters stopped. You know, when you two would travel. You used to send me a postcard and a letter from whatever place you guys were at and eventually they just stopped coming.” She looked up at her parents, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. “Why is that?”

“Letters?” her father started off confused, looking up from his menu briefly before returning his eyes to it. “What lett-”

“Dear let’s stop. Did you want to order drinks too? I’ll get the waiter ov-”

“No mother, let him finish. Go on dad, what do you mean what letters? You guys used to send me them every time you left. How could you not know what letters?” she pleaded desperately, trying to find the answers in her parents eyes.

“Oh right! Those letters.” he said unamused. “Listen kid, you’re old enough now so I guess it’s time we tell you. We weren’t the ones writing those letters, it was your nannies. Do you really think we had the time out of our busy schedules to write you letters? Don’t be ridiculous.” he said, letting out a chuckle. “I don’t see how you didn’t notice that the handwriting was a bit different each time.”  His eyes rose quickly from the small words on the menu at the sound of the menu being slammed on the table. (Y/n) stood there with hot angry tears in her eyes, glaring at her parents. No, it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. They loved her, right? People who love each other don’t lie, her mother had taught her that once. She rose from her spot in the booth, running out the restaurant despite the cries of protest for her to stay.

When she got home, she went into her room pulling the old box that she kept under her bed. She ripped the lid off, pouring the contents onto the bed. “No,” she croaked, tears beginning to form in her eyes again, “No, no, no. Come on. No come on!” she picked up the letters comparing the writing noticing how the writing didn’t match up. “Bullshit! This is bullshit! I can’t believe this!” she screamed, throwing herself on the bed. She sobbed herself to sleep, surrounded by the letters filled with lies. So much for love.

After that incident, (Y/n) opted for staying with her aunt. Her aunt was a few years older than her mom but due to the lax life she lived, she looked a lot younger. She was very grateful that her aunt took her in with such short notice, welcoming her with open arms. She’d write to her often, sending her letters of the adventures she was having at Hogwarts. She would always laugh at the bittersweet way her aunt would sign letters, “Lots of Love, Aunt Margie.”

“Oh come on! Please? It’s just one group date.” Hermione pleaded, chasing down the hallway after her friend. She sat down next to her on the common room couch, smiling at the (y/h/h) girl. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even fall in l-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. That word makes me sick to my stomach.” she said, clutching at her stomach to add emphasis as she made gagging noises. “Love’s a word I’ve always hated.” Hermione looked at her friend sympathetically, patting her leg. Her and Hermione had been friends long before their years at Hogwarts. Her parents were colleagues of her parents but they had lower down positions.

“I know, I know. But you also know I wouldn’t put you with anyone I didn’t think was good enough to be with you. He’s a sweet guy! He loves tending to plants, he’s kind, funny. Sure he’s a little awkward and slouches a bit when he stands but he’s got his own bit of charm!” She said, watching as (Y/n) considered her words. She sighed looking at her.

“Is he at least cute?” 

“I knew you’d come around!” Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly. She pulled back, holding her hands in a comforting way. “It is at the end of the week. I decided to tell you ahead of time so on the off chance you’d agree, which you did, you’d have time to back out at any time if you decided you don’t want to go. Well,” she started as she stood up, gathering her things in her hand. “I’ve gotta get going! And to answer your question, I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

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

(Y/n) snuck through the grass trying to make her way to the greenhouse. Well, as much you could sneak in panda slippers and a nightie. It was about three in the morning and no matter what, she couldn’t sleep. Most nights she had trouble sleeping but it was never this much. “Just my luck. First date I ever agree to and here I am in my fucking pajamas trying to sneak into the greenhouse for a plant that may or may not even be there.” she grumbled, holding her illuminated wand in front of her. She sighed in relief as she finally made her way into the greenhouse. 

She found herself pondering whether it would’ve been simpler to just snag some chamomile from Snape’s room instead. “No, don’t be stupid. He would’ve definitely given me some awful punishment, or even worse, let Filch deal with me.” she shuddered at the thought. She looked around the crowded building, looking and searching for the plant. “What the fuck does a chamomile plant even look like?” she muttered. (Y/n) felt herself growing a bit irritated with herself. Years of living with her Aunt Margie had left her spoiled considering Aunt Margie hated tea bags, always opting for making her own blends. If only she had paid attention to her when she was teaching her about plants, that would make this process a whole lot easier.

“Chamomile, chamomile, chamomile. Eh, this looks close enough!” she reached for the pair of scissors in her pocket, leaning forward to cut it before a hand grabbed hers. She screamed, jumping back as she pointed the scissors at the intruder. “What are you doing?!” she questioned, looking up at the boy. He had a blue pajama set on along with a brown pair of moccasins. He quirked a brow, hazel eyes boring into her own.

“I could ask you the same thing. I come here every night and never see you here.” he shuffled awkwardly, taking the scissors from the girl’s grasp. “Did you need something?”

“I was just about to cut a bit of this chamomile here.” She said motioning to the plant. The boy began to laugh some, shaking his head as he walked across the greenhouse. “What’s so funny?”

“That,” he motioned to the plant that she was previously going to cut, “Is not chamomile. If you were looking for something to help with sleep you would’ve been very upset. That’s actually bouncing biltweed. Whoever drinks it, be it through a tea or potion, is left awake for HOURS. It’s a good alternative for coffee drinkers though.” she felt heat rise to her face as she looked away embarrassed, crossing her arms as she mumbled about how she already knew that.

“Why do you know so much about plants anyways. You say you come here every night, why is that?” she questioned, walking over to his side. She watched as he cut at the actual chamomile before walking to a purple plant and cutting some of that as well.

“I love plants. I always used to have this extra energy from how anxious I’d get, so I started tending and caring for plants. After herbology in first year I became hooked. They’re so fascinating.” He looked down at her, flushing slightly. “Usually I don’t come here this late but I couldn’t sleep either. I have something I’m really looking forward to tomorrow and I don’t wanna screw it up.” she nodded, giving him a noise of acknowledgement. 

“Yeah, I’ve got something tomorrow to. I wouldn’t say I’m looking forward to it but I am quite concerned about how it’ll all play out.” she sighed, stretching as her eyes floated around the room. Her eyes landed on a kettle and a set of cups around the room. “Well since we’re both in the same boat, how bout we have a cup of tea together, yeah?” she asked, walking to the kettle as she looked back at the boy. She noticed how red he was but chose to ignore it as he gave her a nod.

Although she wasn’t usually a people person, she felt oddly comforted around the boy. He was a bit awkward but sweet nonetheless. (Y/n) hadn’t expected to run into him, let alone spend the next few hours laughing and talking to a guy who’s name she didn’t even know! After a while, their conversation dwindled down to nothing as the effects of the lavender and chamomile took over the both of them. The walked to the castle together before bidding each other goodbye, going their separate ways. She’d never admit it to herself, but she quite liked the boy. He seemed like someone she could be into.

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

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Hermione huffed, throwing herself onto (Y/n)’s bed as the girl got ready. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, adding a final coat of lip gloss on as she ignored the girl. “You know, for someone who was very reluctant to go on this date, you’re putting a lot of effort into your appearance. I think Neville will appreciate it though." She giggled as the girl began to sprits a light amount of perfume.

"Neville?” ah, so that’s what his name was. “And, if I'm going to be wasting my time then I might as well look good doing it. And besides, I'm ready!" She walked over to the mirror smiling at her appearance. She had on a mossy green oversized sweater totally not stolen from her father that was tucked into the overall shorts that she had cuffed around the legs. On her lower half she adorned a beat up pair of sneakers. She smiled, admiring herself before grabbing her brown leather satchel. Hermione stood next to her friend in the mirror, looking at her own appearance as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Do you think I look alright?” she questioned, viewing herself from another angle. “Because, you know, I think I look wonderful but do you think Ro-”

“If Ron doesn’t think you look nice then I’ll give him a reason not to be able to see. You look wonderful! You’ve been looking forward to this all week, don’t go beating yourself up. Now,” she grabbed the girl’s hand as they began to head towards the door. “Let’s go show 'em what we’re made of.”

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

The world had to be playing a joke on her. There was no other explanation for what was in front of her. No, it couldn’t be him. However, as they neared her suspicions were confirmed. As the others were all communicating, the boy(who she assumed to be Neville) stood awkwardly by himself, chiming in every so often. She could’ve been wrong but as he turned towards her, with rosy red cheeks and wide eyes, she knew most definitely it was him. “Hey! It’s you from last night. Are you Neville?” she questioned, standing in front of him. He had on a brown flannel, a black shirt under it which was untucked from his dark color jeans, quite a contrast from his cute little pajama set from the other night.

“Y-yeah I am! This is for you.” He said, holding out a beautiful hand picked bouquet before continuing, “I-I know it’s a weird combination but I thought it’d be a nice call back from the other night.” she smiled, looking down at the strange but welcome array of chamomile, lavender, and baby’s breath. How cu- thoughtful was that? Her brows shot up in realization.

“Wait, you knew?! Why didn’t you say something?” she exasperated, slapping his shoulder playfully before she threw back her head groaning. “I told you so many embarrassing stories last night.” she facepalmed, looking up at him as he began to laugh some.

“Thought it’d be a funny surprise. The look on your face was priceless!” He said, moving away as he laughed at her failed attempts to hit him. He looked around realizing their group had already gone. “It looks like everyone else already left. Let’s get going, yeah?” he said, holding his hand out to her. (Y/n) looked down at it hesitantly before taking his outstretched hand, goosebumps spreading across her body at the warm contact. 

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

As they arrived at the quaint little hole in the wall of a restaurant, they realized their small predicament. Hermione smiled, turning towards (Y/n). “Have I ever mentioned how much I lo- care about you?” she cooed sweetly, taking the girl’s (s/c) hands in her own. In return the girl narrowed her eyes looking at her.

“What happened? What do I need to do?” she questioned.

“Well it won’t necessarily be you who has to do something,” she walked back looking at her group of friends, “It appears there’s not enough seats for 5 sets of us so one couple is going to have to take a booth.” (Y/n) looked at her rolling her eyes.

“We’ll do it. Willingly too because if I have to see Harry look at Ginny like that one more time I honestly might end up puking. Come on Nev.” she said, grabbing the giant's hand, leading him to the booth in question. Neville felt his breath hitch and his face flush at the contact, turning to give his friends one last look.

“Don’t bore her to death with all your talk about weeds and plants! I don’t think any girl wants to hear that.” Seamus snickered out, walking away from his friend. However, (Y/n) didn’t hear him, looking up at Neville as she waited for him to sit down. She froze but shortly relaxed as he took a seat across from her instead of next to her.

“I hope we didn’t waste all our good topics yesterday!” she exclaimed looking over at him.

“Surely we haven’t. You know, you never told me what you like to do for fun. Do you have any hobbies?” he asked, looking over the menu as he waited for a response.

“Of course! I’m an artist. Wait a second, I brought my sketchbook, give me one second.” she said, digging into the brown bag that sat next to her. She pulled out a worn down leather notebook, sliding it across the table. 

“You brought your sketchbook on a date?” he chuckled, watching as she looked away timidly. “I’m just teasing, love. Plus I knew you drew, I’ve seen you sketching sometime but I’ve never actually seen any of you work,” he flipped it open, gasping at the girl’s art, “But oh wow are you talented! I expected nothing less from you though.”

“To be fair, I brought the sketchbook before I knew it was you I was going on a date with. I thought I’d be stuck with someone boring and uninteresting,” she said, watching as he examined the pages, “But I guess I lucked out, huh?” Now it was Neville’s turn to feel taken. He flushed lightly before reaching over, grabbing her hand.

“Oh? Am I hearing this correctly? Am I being led to believe you’re enjoying your time on this date with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, Longbottom.”

The pair continued to talk, not a moment of silence falling upon them. It was going perfectly. Neville let her talk about her hobbies and equally enjoyed talking about his. Not once did either of the two get bored or stop talking...which couldn’t be said about their friend’s at the table across from them. The two began to giggle at the sight of the bored expressions on their faces. “Oh god, how awkward does that look?” she laughed out, watching as one of the girl’s visibly yawned at something Seamus said.

“And to think he tried to give me advice before this. Looks like it should’ve been the other way around.” He said, moving his eyes back to the girl. God she was gorgeous, he couldn’t help but think so. He let his eyes travel down the slope of her nose to the outline of her lips. He was absolutely enamoured by the girl, and had been for a few months. He could never get the words right to say to her and from what he had heard from other guys who confessed, he didn’t think he wanted to. He jumped out of his thoughts as the girl’s face was extremely close to his. (Y/n) began to laugh, sitting back down in her seat.

“T-the look on your face! Oh that was priceless. You practically jumped out of your pants!” she laughed harder, snorting as she bang her fist on the table. After a few seconds, she looked over at  the taller boy tilting her head in confusion at his lack of words. “Neville, are you alright?” her eyes looked down as he gripped her hand in his own.

“Listen (Y/n) I know you don’t do love but I just need to say this. I...I like you. I’m absolutely entranced by every part of you and it did start out as physically, I’ll admit but it wouldn’t feel right having you be the only one who didn’t know. I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.” he spoke softly, looking down at his empty plate on the table. His face flushed as she tilted his head to face her, his expression filled with confusion.

“You’re right. I don’t do love. However,” she tightened her grasp on his hand stroking his cheek, “I think we have the potential to have far more than that. Something greater than lo-love.” Neville’s face was overtaken in shock at the girl’s revelation. (Y/n) smiled before leaning over and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

She may not be the type to do love, but this was definitely something she could get used to.

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Female Pro-Box Fighter who is also a Ranger

Pairing: Izzy Garcia x (FemKnight!)Reader

Summary: It follows a girl: Y/N Y/L/N, who currently owns the "Pteradon Champion Zord", along with its DinoSoul Key, who is currently a Professional Box Fighter. The youngest ever to be a pro. What she doesn't know is that she is a direct descendant of the supposed Mythical "DinoSoul" Tribe. [Equivalent to the Ryusoul Tribe]. Her partner, she calls him, "buddy" as she doesn't have a proper name for him. The two of them embark on a journey to figure out who she is, finding an old flame and developing a new crush in the process.

Warnings: None(?) I hope none

A/n: So I just started watching Power Rangers Dino Fury and I'M IN LOVE WITH IZZY GARCIA!! Originally this story’s main character is my MC for Dino Fury, I think ya’ll should have the benefit to have your own character name in this story. However, the touch of MC being a “Ryusoul Tribe” Descendant/Is Ryusoul Cyan/Arctic Knight Ranger is definitely staying in there! Have fun on my first Power Rangers Imagine Series!

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

As you watch from afar, another battle with a sporix beast, you wince at your arm in pain from your weekly practice-boxing session.

"Don't you think you're over doing your job?" A voice asks you

You turn to a Cyan colored egg, "It's a consequence I'm willing to pay."

Later, you were at the recreation center to get your workout in for the day. Nothing too rigorous. As you were heading off to the treadmills you didn't realize you bumped your shoulder into someone, nearly knocking them over. Your instincts immediately kicked in and caught whoever was falling.

"You okay?" You ask the girl wearing green

"Yeah," she sighs as you let her back onto her feet, "You're-you're Y/N Y/L/N! The Best Female Pro-Boxing Fighter!"

"That's me," you smiled but let out a sigh

"I watch your matches every Friday," The girl smiles, "I'm Izzy."

"Do you now?" You ask, "I'm glad you do though. Hey, I'm just about to head over to the treadmills. You possibly want to join me Izzy?"

Before she could answer, she notices her watch going off.

"Another time?" She asks, sighing in disappointment

You could easily see the disappointment in her eyes. You felt for her. You actually looked up to the Power Rangers. The Green Ranger specifically.

"Here's my card," you smile, handing it to her

She mouths 'thanks' before heading off. You go to the treadmills to finish out your workout.

When you walk your way back to your apartment, music blaring into your ears as you don't even realize the people running past you before you see their shadows and with that, you finally look up. Although you weren't as terrified as the other civilians, you were scared. However, before you could even engage battle, the five rangers jump in front of you; the Green Ranger helping you up.

"Get somewhere safe," the green Ranger says

The green ranger sounded familiar.... Was she-? No, not possible. You don't linger on to think about it and run away.

"I thought you weren't afraid anymore!" The small voice says to you

You pull your backpack to face you and you open the zipper; the same Cyan-colored egg.

"I don't need them to know," You whisper, "Not now at least, next time for sure."

The next day, you're at the gym, practicing your punches for an upcoming match.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" A familiar voice calls

You happily stop your workout and turn to Izzy.

"Hey!" You said, "Izzy right?"

She happily nods, "Would you possibly give me some pointers on workouts? And maybe your boxing style?"

"Sure Izzy," you smile, beginning to unwrap your hands

"Green wraps?" Izzy asks, pointing to your bruised hands

"Green's my favorite color," you smile

You could see the pink flush in Izzy's cheeks as she looks at you.

"You want to get started Izz?" You ask, fanning out your hands from their sweat

She shakes herself out of her daze and walks over to you.

After the day, you two walk out of the rec center, you hear her watch beep again.

"Gotta run," Izzy sighs, "But I had fun today!! See you Friday?"

"See you Friday Izzy," you smile

You watch her run off. As soon as she rounds the corner, you look into your backpack.

"It's time buddy," you whisper, beginning to trace Izzy's footsteps

"Finally!" He says

As you round the corner to the downtown courtyard, you watch closely as the Rangers fight a sporix beast; waiting for the right opportunity to make your debut.

"What are you waiting for???" He asks

"The right opportunity to morph bud," you say, taking out a Cyan-colored key and a caliber, similar to the rangers' sabers.

As you continue watching the rangers fight, you notice how they're getting knocked back over and over.

"HieHie soul," you say, opening your caliber's 'mouth'

"HieHie Soul!" It announces as you insert it

You close the mouth of the hilt and open and close it rapidly twice. Your sword begins emitting a triumphant tune as you open and close the hilt

"Kyo!", "Ryu, Sou, Sou!!", "Kono Kanjiii!", "HieHie."

A cold steam emits from your area and is easily noticed by both the rangers and the Sporix beast. You launch yourself off the ground and fly towards the beast, slashing it twice. You land between the rangers and the sporix beast.

"You know, I've been told once," you start, "The more you bully people the harder it is to make friends."

"I'm not here to make friends I'm here to get more Dino keys for Void Knight," The sporix beast explains

"Ooooh," you sigh in disappointment, "You see, that's where We come in; The Power Rangers. This is where we stop fools like you!"

You break into a run and slash the sporix beast, however, he deflects your slash and slashes you. You almost fall back, not until the Green Ranger catches you.

"Hey, Thanks," you sigh, opening and closing your hilt rapidly once more, "Combine our final smashes?"

"You know it," the green Ranger agrees, following your movements

"Ptera-Tiger Slash!" The both of you say in unison, making an 'X' slash toward the sporix beast, defeating it

As soon as it turns into a sporix ball, you immediately catch it just as Void Knight appears. Using your 'cape' you immediately fly backwards, still holding onto the sporix.

"You-Gaisoulg!" You say, recognizing the armor

"I don't know what you're talking about kid but I'm not that person anymore!" He says, "You may have won this round but I will get you next time, Arctic Knight."

He teleports away. You hand the sporix to the red Ranger as they de-morph.

"Who are you?" Amelia asks

"Why don't we save introductions another time yeah?" You suggest, flying away

"Wait!" Izzy calls out to you, but you were long gone

Once you reached your apartment, you de-morph.

"Why didn't you tell them who you are?" He asks

"I know the green ranger and the pink ranger..." you say, "The pink ranger is my ex and the green Ranger is my trainee."

"Oh... Oh that's bad." He says

"Yeah..." you sigh, "Hey I'm going to make food what do you want to watch while you're waiting for me?"

"Cartoons!!" He screams happily

You sigh but oblige to his request and put on the first cartoon channel that was there and leave him to watch his cartoons as you begin making food for yourself; enough to last you the next couple of days.

Throwing whatever food you made into the oven, you clean your hands but hear a vibration coming off the island counter. You turn around and notice your screen lit up. You walk over to it and open your phone back up.

"Oh, it's Izzy," you say to yourself, opening the text

Hey, it's me. So my trainer is helping Mona, who has a broken leg. She told me she wouldn't be able to train me until 2pm, you wouldn't mind helping me out until she's able to come? I have a competition next week and I don't want to train by myself.

Hey, I can definitely help you! What time do you need me to be there? And is the rec center a good place to train at?

5 am, sharp. And yeah! So I'll meet you there! I owe you one Y/N!

No worries!

The following morning you wait outside of the rec center, waiting for Izzy to show. You wanted to be there early, wanting to show her that you'd be a great trainer by showing up early.

"Morning coach," Izzy calls out to you, smiling

"You ready kid?" You ask

"Listen here Coach, you have to be no older than 23," Izzy jokes

"I'm 18," you smile, "And yes, I got recruited at 16. Thus, I'm the youngest pro box-fighter. Ever."

"And I thought you were about 16-17," Izzy teases, "But that's a good thing right?"

"Oh yeah," you say, "It's fun when you give servers your ID to check if you're old enough to buy alcohol and they need to do a double-take to make sure its actually you."

You and Izzy break out into a laugh as you follow her into the rec center to train her.

"Now, what you want to do is make a 'thumbs up'," You explain, "You'd want the trajectory to line up with the tip of your thumb as it begins to land. That way, you can get a greater distance."

You watch her line up her javelin with her thumb and get a running start; throwing it when she had enough momentum to throw it. 

"Wow you were right Y/N!" Izzy says

"Why don't we call it  day?" You suggest, "We've been at this for hours. It'd be nice if we got a break. Unless you still want to keep going?"

"I was actually hoping you could get me started on your boxing style?" Izzy asks, nervously

"Okay," You break into a smile, "But, it's not an easy style to work with. So I'm only starting you with basics today."

Izzy nods, "Okay."

The both of you pack your stuff and move over to the where the punching bags were and you take a moment to rewrap your wrists. 

"Here put these on," You say, gently tossing Izzy a new pair of wrist wraps and padding, "You're gonna get bruises and almost break your skin open and we don't need that. Well, if you overdo it then it will."

As you finish wrapping your own wrists and hands, you look over and notice Izzy having trouble wrapping hers.

"Here, let me show you," You say, kneeling in front of her, gently taking her hands into yours as you thoroughly wrap her hands, “No worries, I’ve had this happen to me too when I began Professional Boxing.”

You didn't realize it as you were so focused on Izzy's wrists/hands, you didn't know she wasn't paying attention to your wrapping skills, but how you looked. You were close to her face, pretty much kissing distance, she fought the urge to pull your face to hers but she managed to win that battle.

"There," You finish, looking up at Izzy, who was just dazed looking at you, "Izzy? Were you even paying attention?"

You got no response other than the 'dazed' look on Izzy's face. You smiled, you thought she looked cute.

"Come on," You say one more time, wrapping your hand around Izzy's and dragging her up off the bench to get her started on your boxing basics.

Part 2

[nothingbutimagines]

Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons. 

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled. 

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie. 

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.” 

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand. 

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly. 

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.” 

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed. 

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.” 

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!” 

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week. 

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty. 

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket. 

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk. 

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot. 

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz. 

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.” 

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude. 

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons. 

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further. 

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.” 

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs. 

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists. 

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip. 

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?” 

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.” 

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly. 

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you. 

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night. 

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with. 

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand. 

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.” 

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech. 

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?” 

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.” 

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside. 

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind. 

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it. 

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?” 

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. 

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.” 

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.” 

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is. 

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up. 

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told. 

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy. 

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you. 

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same. 

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.” 

Dear Diary, 

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen! 

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand. 

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me. 

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust. 

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.” 

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!” 

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats. 

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.” 

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face. 

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch. 

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out. 

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you. 

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind. 

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air. 

“You goddamn bitch!” 

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!” 

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free. 

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker. 

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.” 

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft. 

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him. 

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.” 

“Are girls really that bad?” 

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!” 

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear. 

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.” 

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you. 

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.” 

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed. 

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter​ @halparkebitch​

message me to be added to the taglist!

[laws-hat-headcanons]

After trying to post this twice alresdy thanks to tumblr being a dick, here it is (I hope)! Soul mate AUs are fun though Law is a bitch to write for

Anyway, enjoy!

Soul Mate AU: Trafalgar Law

Law scrubs a hand through his hair and huffs out a sigh, glancing to the small battered clock on his night stand. 3.34am.

He sighs again and snaps the book he had been reading shut, eyes aching from reading in dim light for too long. He pushes to his feet, stretches till his back cracks and places the book on his desk. Rubbing his eyes Law drops back onto the bed, face pressed against the pillows. He ignores the sudden itching feeling on his forearm and closes his eyes, drifting slowly into a dreamless sleep.

 

When Law wakes it is with bleary eyes and mussed hair. Still exhausted he looks at his clock again and groans – 06.14am, barely three hours since he fell asleep. He shakes his head, idly scratching his inner arm before slowly extracting himself from the bedsheets. He throws on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats before heading to the kitchen in search of coffee.

To his surprise Penguin is already up, nursing a mug of something black and bitter, an annoyed expression on his face. Law raises an eyebrow and Penguin huffs. “Bepo has been snoring all night,” The other man says as Law pours himself a mug. “I haven't slept at all.”

Law rolls his eyes and sits down opposite his crew mate and pulls yesterdays paper towards himself, half listening to Penguin rant about the thickness of the walls in the sub. He doesn't notice when the other man stops talking.

“When did you get another tattoo?” Penguin asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What?” Law asks, distractedly, glancing up from the paper.

“That tattoo, when did you get it?” Penguin repeats, tilting his head to Law's arm. Law follows his gaze and turns his arm up to see the grey swirl imprinted on his skin. He stares at it for a moment, not quite sure if he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing.

“Hey!” Penguin suddenly shouts excitedly, instantly on his feet and reaching over the table to grab Laws arm, Law pulls away.

“Is that what I think it is?” Penguin asks, pure glee in his voice as he tries to get a better look. Law slaps a hand to his forearm to cover the blossoming shapes, letters darkening slowly.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Law snaps, coffee forgotten as he gets up, arm still covered. “And don't tell anyone about this!”

Penguin doesn't say anything as Law hurriedly exits the room. Instead he grins, drains the last of his coffee and goes to wake up Shachi.

 

Law goes straight back to the privacy of his room to examine the new tattoo in better detail. He shoves aside books and pens and slams his left arm down on the desk, turning on the lamp for a little extra illumination.

The tattoo runs almost the length of his inner forearm, a thick curling script no more than an inch high, bracketed by swirling filigree. He stares at the still forming name, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Law knows what it is, of course. He studied the phenomena some years ago, intrigued by what he assumed could only be some kind of hormonal response from the body, though he could never truly work out the mystery of the name – in fact there was no definitive medical explanation for the odd condition, no specific symptoms or reasoning behind it.

A Soul Mark someone had called it once. Law had scoffed and never finished that particular article, or any of the others that had referenced a 'soul mate'. Now he wasn't so sure.

Law spent a long time staring at his arm, wondering the best course of action. The tattoo was getting more and more defined. Soon he would be able to see the name clearly and there would be no hiding the mark on his skin.

With a groan Law stood up at the same moment the door to his cabin burst open, and a clamour of voices began babbling excitedly at him as Bepo, Shachi and Ikkaku all tried to barge in at once.

“Captain! Is it true?” Bepo asked.

“Let us see!” Shachi demanded, reaching for Laws arm.

“Get out!” Law snapped, pulling his arm behind his back to keep it hidden. “Now!”

“But Captain...” Bepo sniffled, suddenly looking wounded at his words, eyes wide and teary.

“No. Go away.” Law repeated, and watched as Bepo's bottom lip trembled.

Law stared at him for a long moment, the polar bear's face growing sadder and sadder with each passing second till Law let out a disgusted sigh and slowly held his arm out.

All three swarmed him, turning his arm this way and that as they tried to read the name imprinted there. Law snatched his arm back. “Alright! Get off me.”

“I've never seen one before,” Ikkaku says, tapping her chin. “Does it hurt?”

“Never mind that! How are we going to find them?” Shachi questions, and Law jerks back.

“We aren't!” Law growls. “We aren't going to do anything – just keep sailing until this disappears.” He says, covering the mark with his hand again. God he hoped it would disappear.

“You don't even want to try?” Shachi asks, his frown deepening.

“But they're your Soul Mate Captain!” Bepo whines, paws pressed together.

“Enough!” Law snaps. “No one is to mention this again – that's an order!”

His crew look like they want to argue, but Law looks at each in turn, his eyes dark as he dares one of them to contradict him. When he is sure they have all understood his orders he points to the door. “Now get out.”

They go.

 

For the next week Law ignores that phantom itch, wearing long sleeved tops so he doesn't have to look at the mark, so he doesn't see if it is darker or lighter.

The news of his predicament spread quickly around the ship despite his orders, and he catches his crew whispering together on more than one occasion.

Law isn't stupid enough to think they have given up, so when Bepo comes to him a few days later and says they have to dock at the nearest island for supplies he is suspicious. Law allows himself a glance at his arm and hisses when he sees it is almost completely filled in. He refuses to read the name now plainly printed there.

“Find another island.” He tells Bepo.

The Mink looks sheepishly and tells him there are no other islands.

Law checks the maps, he checks the stock room, he checks his arm again. He can't deny they need more provisions – they won't make it to the next island without them.

Grudgingly Law agrees.

 

They reach the island the next day and Law refuses to leave his cabin. His Soul Mate might live on this island – but that doesn't mean he has to meet them. He sits in his room trying to distract himself with a book but his eyes are drawn back to the mark on his arm.

Law grunts. He runs long fingers over the tattoo, his skin rippling with goosebumps at the touch.

He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

Whoever Name is, they're unlucky to have been paired with him. Everyone he ever loved has died – he doesn't need to add their name to the list too. It's kinder this way, he tells himself. Besides, the life of a pirate isn't for everyone, and he doesn't have time to fall in love anyway. The excuses come to his mind easily and he convinces himself that there is no such thing as Soul Mates anyway.

“This is ridiculous,” Law mutters to himself, opening his eyes. He gets up, paces round his room once before heading for the door. He makes sure his sleeves are down before stepping out and making his way to the deck for some fresh air.

If his crew are surprised to see him out in the open, none of them are stupid enough to say anything. Law stands at the railing and takes a deep breath. His eyes wander over the movement of the docks, sailors and merchants, another pirate ship some way down the harbour. He tells himself he isn't looking for anything in particular, just passing time, taking in the view of a new island.

He spots Bepo at the end of the pier, trying to heft two big boxes back to the ship, and rolls his eyes. Law lifts his hand to help his first mate, a Room starting to spin at his fingertips when something else catches his eye behind the bear.

They're standing a little behind Bepo, talking to one of the sailors from the merchant ship, a smile on their face as the sea breeze lifts their hair. There's a sword slung over one of their shoulders and a heavy looking pack over the other. They shift the pack as he watches, letting out a laugh at something the sailor says and Law notes the dark black smudge just visible on the inside of their forearm.

Law lets his hand drop to his side, the Room dissolving into nothingness as his breath catches in his chest, his heart pounds.

Does he want this?

Law shakes his head, trying the clear the sound of blood pounding in his ears. This isn't for him, he thinks quickly. He doesn't want this. Doesn't deserve it. He's about to leave, to go back to his quarters when they turn, sensing his gaze.

He watches as they still mid-conversation, their words trailing off. Seconds pass, Law knows he should go, but he can't tear himself away. They give a little tilt of their head as if considering before excusing themselves, stepping away from the sailor. Law feels his chest constrict as they start down the pier towards him, brushing past Bepo till they're level with him.

He looks down at them from the railing, debates just leaving. But he doesn't.

Law takes in their face, bright eyes and laugh lines. A small scar just above their right eyebrow. Dimpled cheeks and soft lips.

He remains silent as they give him a lopsided grin. They glance at their arm as if to make sure they've got the right person before looking up again. Law resists the urge to look at his own arm, to re-read their name etched in his skin.

“I gotta ask,” They start, their voice light and amused. “What does the 'D' stand for?”

[angelofthequeers]

Happy Holmium

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

My @mlsecretsanta gift for @wedontdeservenino! I hope you enjoy! ❤️💚

AO3 link

“Happy Holmium, Marinette!”

The mere sight of Adrien doesn’t make Marinette want to die now after months of shifting her focus to being his friend over asking him out, but he can’t just look over his shoulder and wave like that and expect her to be okay with –

Wait. What?

“Happy what?” Marinette says.

“Don’t encourage him,” Nino groans. “He’s so proud of it, like he thinks he deserves a freaking award for it.”

“Happy Holmium!” Adrien grins like the cat that got the cream. “Get it? Ho? For holmium? Ho, ho, ho? I could go with Merry Chromium if you prefer!” he adds when Marinette and Alya join Nino in groaning and thumping their heads on the desk.

“I can’t believe I want to marry you,” Marinette mumbles into the desktop.

“Huh?” Adrien says. Marinette lets out a small shriek and whips her head up.

“Nothing!” she cries, waving her hands around and praying to whoever might be listening that her face isn’t turning as scarlet as her alter-ego’s suit.

“Smooth,” Alya snickers, also lifting her head.

“Attention, class!” Ms Bustier calls. “I know it's the final class of the day and your attention may be drifting elsewhere, but I'd like it if you could at least listen to this. Then you can go back to pretending to listen while I pretend to believe you.”

Snickers are heard all around the room, especially when Ms Bustier looks at Kim and Nathaniel. Nathaniel laughs sheepishly, while Kim just gives an impish grin and crosses his arms.

“I thought that since this is your last Christmas with me before you all go to lycée, we could do something a little fun,” Ms Bustier says. “A Secret Santa!”

Excited murmuring breaks out across the room. Except for Adrien, who raises his hand and says, “Um, what’s a Secret Santa?”

“Oh, you poor, sheltered boy,” Chloé drawls, and Sabrina snickers. It’s really been quite astonishing to watch Chloé’s slow, heel-dragging progress from a horrific jerk into a jerk with a heart of gold since being given a second chance with the Bee Miraculous. Marinette suspects that it’s mostly to do with Pollen’s influence pushing her to be a better person outside the mask as well as behind it, but if a kwami’s guidance means continued respite from Chloé’s bullying, Marinette’s not exactly going to complain.

“Now, now, Chloé,” Ms Bustier chides. “Adrien, a Secret Santa is where you draw a random name and must give a gift to that person. I’m giving you all until the last day of term to finalise your gifts, in case anyone wants to get creative, but you must participate. I thought it would be a nice reminder of the bonds you’ve all forged before you leave for lycée.”

“Can we give gifts to people other than our Secret Santa?” Lila pipes up. “Even if I don’t get Adrien, I still have the perfect gift for him. I’m sure you’ll love it, Adrien!”

“Aww!” Rose coos. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Lila!”

Marinette meets Adrien’s gaze and rolls her eyes. Her cheeks grow warm when he immediately hides his mouth behind his hand, no doubt concealing the grin he can’t hold back. Meanwhile, Alya mutters something that sounds vaguely like, “Can’t believe I ever fell for her bull.”

“Of course you can, Lila,” Ms Bustier says. “But your focus must be on the recipient that you draw, otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to them.”

“Oh, of course!” Lila says. “I promise!”

“Right.” Ms Bustier picks up the small box on her desk and shakes it. The sound of rustling fills the air. “When I call on you, come and draw a name from the box. And no re-drawing! That’s not in the spirit of Christmas. Chloé, you first.”

It’s impossible to tell who Chloé had gotten, since she gives no visible reaction, so Marinette can only conclude that she hadn’t gotten Lila or Adrien, since she’d be utterly disgusted or utterly delighted respectively. Next up is Sabrina, then Adrien, and Marinette’s stomach jolts because what if Adrien draws her name? What kind of present would he get her? Oh, she’d die if she got a gift from Adrien –

“Marinette!” Ms Bustier says loudly. Marinette jumps and squeaks and stumbles to the front of the class, ignoring the way Alya’s very pointed look is scorching the back of her neck. She dips her hand into the box, rummages for a second, pulls out a neatly-folded piece of paper, and unfolds it to reveal…Adrien Agreste.

No. Way. She gets to be Adrien’s Secret Santa! Oh, this is perfect! She’ll give him the perfect gift, and he’ll declare his undying love for her, and they’ll run away to an island and get married and have three kids and a hamster –

“Is there a problem, Marinette?” Ms Bustier says.

“N-No! Sorry!” Marinette babbles and rushes back to her seat. Why is she getting so carried away? She hasn’t been like this around Adrien for ages!

“Nice!” Alya hisses with a wide grin when she returns from picking her name and they show each other who they’d drawn. Alya had gotten Rose, which should be easy enough, considering that Rose likes anything pink and flowery and nice-smelling. “What are you gonna get him?”

“I don’t know!” Marinette says. “And after that Christmas disaster last year, I don’t wanna mess this up!”

Alya pats her on the back. “You’ll think of something, girl. You always do.”

Finding the perfect gift for Adrien is all Marinette can think about for the whole afternoon, to the point where Alya eventually shakes her head in disgust and gives up on trying to engage Marinette in conversation at all. It’s not until she’s home and scribbling ideas down in one of her notebooks that she finally speaks for the first time since learning that Adrien is her recipient.

“Rubbish! Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish!” She tears the page out of her notebook and scrunches it up, then throws it across the room. “None of this is good enough for him!”

“You’re overthinking things, Marinette,” Tikki says. “Your gift doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to have love poured into it. Like the scarf you made for him!”

“Yeah and look how well that turned out.” Marinette drops her notebook and buries her face in her hands with a groan.

“It did turn out well,” Tikki says patiently. Well, if one happens to be a god of however many thousands of years, patience is probably a necessity for one’s mental survival. “Adrien loved it because it was handmade and full of love. The only reason he didn’t know it was from you was because your signature somehow got lost. But this time, you’re giving the gift to him in person, so he’ll know it’s from you!”

“True. True. Okay…” Marinette takes a deep breath and looks back down at her notebook. “I can do this. I can – no, I can’t! I’m gonna screw this up and he’ll never want to be my friend again!”

“Would you be freaking out like this if it was anyone else?” Tikki says.

“No!” Marinette says. “But Adrien is…how many good gifts does he get, Tikki? Remember last year? His father only let us go to his house after he ran away. I have to make this gift perfect for him!”

“Marinette!” Tikki rests her tiny hands on Marinette’s cheeks. “Adrien would be happy if you gave him a sock, so long as there was love put into it! Maybe you should take a break from this.”

“But I can’t! I have –”

“– three weeks to design and create your gift. One night won’t be disastrous. If you take a step back and clear your head, you can come back with fresh eyes and maybe think of something extraordinary!”

Marinette takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Right. You’re right. It’s just like artist’s block when I’m designing. Tikki, if we headed for patrol a little earlier, would you mind –?”

“Not at all, Marinette! Ready when you are!”

“Tikki, spots on!”

Although it’s not snowing, the Parisian night air is freezing enough to bite as Ladybug leaps and hops across the rooftops towards the Eiffel Tower. By the time she arrives and swings up to the top, her face is chilly and stinging and her breath billows out in front of her as though she’s a ladybug-scaled dragon.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Chat Noir grins from his perch on the edge of the Tower’s tip. Ladybug just rolls her eyes and plops down next to him, ignoring the heat radiating from his damn cat body because there’s no way she’s going to give him the satisfaction of cuddling up to him for warmth.

“Ha, ha,” Ladybug drawls.

“Don’t you mean Happy Holmium?” Chat Noir says, and Ladybug freezes. “Get it? Holmium?”

“Ho, ho,” she breathes as Ladybug.exe starts to crash. Chat Noir beams – no, it’s Adrien, it’s Adrien behind that mask, how did she never see it before…but what are the chances of Adrien being Chat? Then again, what are the chances that both are spouting the exact same joke?

And it’s not like they don’t look similar. Blond hair, green eyes…she’d just always assumed that they were green because of the Miraculous, like hers had been as Lady Noire, but if they’re naturally green…

“Milady?” Chat Noir says. Ladybug jumps and squeaks.

“Fine! I’m fine!” she babbles. “I guess all I want for Christmas is yttrium, oxygen, and uranium!”

Oh my god. Did I really just say that to Adrien?

Chat Noir blinks and frowns, then snorts and slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “Why, bugaboo, if you wanted me for Christmas, all you had to do was ask,” he says. “We have real chemistree, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ladybug says. It’s Chat Noir. Adrien, yes, but it’s Chat Noir, her dorky partner. And besides, she hasn’t been a disaster around Adrien for a while now, so she’s not going to slide right back into turning into one in his presence, thank you very much. Or his presents, as he would say. “You’ll have to try harder than that to make me helium.”

“He, he. Really?” Chat Noir raises an eyebrow. “Gotta step up your game.”

Ladybug sniffs and tosses her hair. “Na. Don’t be sodium salty.”

“But milady, you make my heart undergo an exothermic reaction!” Chat Noir clasps at his heart and leans against Ladybug, who pushes him away out of sheer habit rather than because she wants to. Since he’s super warm. That’s it.

“Your heart is nothing but nitrogen, oxygen, and iridium,” Ladybug says. Chat Noir pouts.

“Don’t we have patrol, milady?” he says.

“Oh, so you can start it, but you can’t take the reaction?” Ladybug smirks, climbing to her feet. She helps Chat Noir up, winks, and says, “Well, at least I’m well-prepared for the Chemistry test on Friday.”

“If you ever need my tutoring services in future, all you have to do is ask,” Chat Noir says with his usual roguish grin. Hmm. Nice recovery.

“I’ll be sure to pass that on to the five-year-olds,” Ladybug says and reaches out to flick his bell. Then she’s off, swinging away from the Eiffel Tower before Chat Noir can recover his wits, trying not to think about the fact that she’d just done that to Adrien because if she lets her brain think about that little fact, she’ll splat on the streets below.

But hey, at least now she knows exactly what gift to give to Adrien for the Secret Santa!

.

“Alright, class!” Ms Bustier claps her hands, and everyone quiets down and turns to face the front. “I hope you’ve all got your gifts prepared, because today is Secret Santa day!”

Adrien’s classmates start to cheer, but Adrien’s too busy bouncing in his seat with anticipation to find out who his Secret Santa is. Is it Nino? Or Marinette? Or, heck, even Chloé? Just so long as it’s not Lila. Thank god she hadn’t been his Secret Santa recipient because after all the crap she’s pulled, no way could he make himself put good effort into getting her a gift.

“When I draw out your name, come to the front of the class,” Ms Bustier says, shaking her little box of names from when their recipients had been announced. “Then your Secret Santa will step forward and give their gift.” She reaches into the box, pulls out a slip of paper, unfolds it, and says, “Kim!”

“Aw, yeah!” Kim bursts out of his seat and skids to a halt next to Ms Bustier, who looks like she’s trying her best to be Teacherly Strict and not laugh at his antics. “C’mon, who got me?”

“Thankfully, not me!” Alix calls, and the class snickers at her quip. Kim beams and flips her off.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Ms Bustier says. “Who was Kim’s Secret Santa?”

After a moment, there’s the sound of someone sliding out of their seat from the back of the class. Adrien tries his very hardest not to slump in relief when he turns and sees that it’s Lila making her way to the front of the class with a neatly-wrapped red present. He tries. But he’s not sure how successful he is, especially at the plastic quality of her smile when she passes him.

“Buon Natale, Kim!” Lila chirps, handing over her gift. Kim whoops and tears the paper off to reveal a shoebox. “I’m so sorry, I would’ve loved to get you an autograph from –”

“Are you kidding?” Kim crows as he yanks the lid off the box. “New sneakers! Thanks, Lila, you’re the best!”

Adrien bites down on his lip to smother his laughter when Kim pulls Lila in for what looks like a super tight one-armed hug and she’s forced to smile brightly and grit out something about it being no trouble at all. Soon enough, Kim and Lila are returning to their seats, and Adrien carefully doesn’t look at Lila so that he doesn’t lose the battle against his laughter.

“Time for our next recipient!” Ms Bustier pulls out another name. “Nathaniel!”

Nathaniel’s Secret Santa turns out to be Juleka, who gifts him a small framed painting in dark colours. Although her artistry isn’t the best, Nathaniel’s bouncing on the spot as he throws his arms around Juleka, and Adrien can’t help but smile at the sight. Both Nathaniel and Juleka understand what it means to be creative from the heart, after all, even if their mediums differ.

Nino’s up next, and his gift from Max is a track of songs that Markov had helped Max create “based on the statistics of your music preferences”. Mylène’s gift from Rose is a pretty, handmade yellow rose pin (“because yellow roses mean friendship!”), and she beams and immediately clips it to her sweater next to her Ladybug pin. Then it’s Marinette’s turn to receive her Secret Santa gift from Ivan, which turns out to be a little black cat plushie with bright green eyes, green paw pads, and a bell attached to its neck.

“I know you like Chat Noir,” Ivan mumbles, scratching the back of his head. “So, I thought…well, I’ve got a friend who makes plushies, and she agreed to make that one for you…”

“It’s perfect!” Marinette stands on her tiptoes to kiss Ivan on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Ivan! I can’t believe it’s handmade!”

Marinette…likes Chat Noir? Enough to receive a handmade plushie based on him? Well, obviously, considering the whole Weredad incident, but…Adrien wasn’t aware that she still felt so strongly about him. He swallows and looks away, otherwise the pure joy on Marinette’s face will do leave him with some very unwelcome thoughts, considering that he’s supposed to be in love with Ladybug.

Wait. Supposed to be? He is in love with Ladybug!

“Adrien!” Ms Bustier says.

“Present!” Adrien blurts out. Everyone else snickers.

“Yes, Adrien, come and receive your present,” says a clearly-amused Ms Bustier. Adrien undertakes the walk of shame with warm cheeks, but the spring is back in his step in no time because now he gets to find out who his Secret Santa is! And what they’re going to give him! Every gift except for Lila’s has been handmade so far, and his gift for Chloé is a friendship bracelet in the colours of Queen Bee, so he can only imagine what his gift will be! “Okay, who was Adrien’s Secret Santa?”

Adrien’s eyes, attuned to the slightest of movements, jump to the dark-haired girl slipping out of her seat with a lumpy red package in her hands. Marinette! His Secret Santa is Marinette! How did he get so lucky? She’s so sweet and talented and amazing, so any gift from her is going to have love poured into it to the seams!

“Happy Christmas, Adrien,” Marinette says with pink cheeks as she hands over her gift, which is soft and squishy. Adrien tries not to look too eager as he runs his finger along the tape and tears the paper off to reveal…a red jacket with black spots? A Ladybug jacket?

“How did you know I liked Ladybug?” Adrien blurts out. Marinette’s pink cheeks darken to crimson.

“Just a lucky guess!” she says. “There’s more if you unfold it!”

There’s a card nestled in the jacket, so Adrien carefully sets it on Ms Bustier’s desk and then unfolds the jacket, and his breath catches in his throat. On the back, in black lettering, is stitched Happy Holmium! with a sprig of holly berries, except that the red berries have black ladybug spots and little black cat paws have been embroidered through the green holly leaves.

“Seriously?” Nino groans when Adrien holds the jacket up. “You’re encouraging that joke?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Marinette argues.

“Finally, someone who appreciates my dashing wit!” Adrien says. He shrugs off his black designer jacket and slips on Marinette’s jacket as fast as he physically can, running his hands over the fleecy material with an undoubtedly goofy grin on his face. “You made me a jacket!”

“Yeah!” Marinette nods rapidly. “Um…you should probably read your card.”

Inside the envelope Adrien had set on Ms Bustier’s desk is a Christmas card with a photo of Ladybug on the front, no doubt from Alya’s extensive stash. But it’s what’s inside the card that makes Adrien’s breath catch in his throat:

Dear Adrien,

Happy Holmium! You’re one of my dearest friends and I’m so lucky to have you in my life, especially since I’d say we have real chemistree. You make my heart undergo an exothermic reaction and all I want for Christmas is yttrium, oxygen, and uranium, even if your heart is nitrogen, oxygen, and iridium. At least I’m not sodium salty over puns. You’ll have to try harder to make me helium next time.

Love,

Marinette

Exothermic reaction? Chemistree? Y-O-U and N-O-Ir? Sodium salty and helium? But…how? There’s only one person who knows that all those specific jokes had passed between him and…Ladybug.

“No way,” he breathes. Her cheeks now dark scarlet, Marinette looks down at the ground, twisting the toe of her boot against the wooden floor. Dark pigtails, bright blue eyes…kind, sweet, warm, amazing…she’s been in front of him the whole time! “You – I don’t –”

“Can we hurry this up?” Alix complains. “Some of us have gifts to get, y’know! And give,” she hastily adds when Ms Bustier looks at her.

Adrien reaches out, almost in a daze, and runs his fingers along Marinette’s cheek and down to her chin, giving her just enough of a nudge to raise her head. Those bluebell eyes punch him in the gut, leaving him breathless and unable to breathe, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s cupping her face and leaning in and the class is audibly holding their breaths.

“Milady?” he murmurs against her mouth, so quiet that only the two of them can hear. Marinette gives him a soft little smile and at that moment, Adrien wonders how the hell he’s never realised that she’s Ladybug, because she’s just as radiant.

“You should be careful who you joke with, kitty,” Marinette replies. “Hearing the same joke again is old.”

Adrien huffs out a laugh, which Marinette mirrors, her eyes crinkling and lighting up as she laughs too. His eyes dart to her lips, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed as she also chances a peek at his mouth. But just as Adrien’s leaning in –

“Excuse me, Ms Bustier, but Alix is right!” Lila’s sickly-sweet voice rings clear in the classroom, and Adrien jumps away from Marinette and scratches the back of his head with a little laugh. “We really should get through the rest of the Secret Santas!”

“Aww, come on, Lila!” Rose says. “We’ve been waiting so long for this to happen!”

“It’s okay,” Adrien says. He reaches out to take Marinette’s hand, and she flushes as red as her alter-ego’s suit and looks away while biting her lip. “We can finish this later. Right, princess?”

“Aww!” all the girls coo, apart from Lila.

“Y-Yeah,” Marinette stammers. “Sorry, we’re just holding the whole class up.”

“Don’t apologise,” Ms Bustier says with a wide grin and another name in her hand. “It’s wonderful to see such love at Christmas! Rose, you’re up next! Although I doubt anyone can outdo Adrien and Marinette here.”

Christmas card and original jacket in hand, Adrien heads back to his seat with Marinette behind him, squeezing past Rose on her way to the front. As Rose squeals over the miniature notebook of pressed flowers from Alya, Adrien turns in his seat and catches Marinette’s eye, winking when she finally looks at him. She blushes and looks down, and although Adrien wishes he could pull out the old Chat Noir charm and delight in the fact that his lady really does love him back, they can do that later. After all, they’ve got all the time in the world now.

“Happy Holmium, Adrien!” Marinette says with a little giggle that lights up his world. Adrien beams back.

“Happy Holmium, Marinette,” he says.

[bluewritesao3]

The Handyman: New House & Pot Noodles

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Paz Vizsla X Fem!OC

Warnings: Non other than slight embarrassment and talk of car sex (I’m covering all my bases just in case)

Taglist: @maybege​, @legally-a-bastard​ @gallowsjoker​ 

A/N: for new or old readers this has been revamped as an x reader. simple because I’ve been finding it easier to write x readers than i have ocs recently. So please enjoy it and you can come scream at me if you like but don’t forget to reblog cause it helps more than likes do.

Gif credit: @hanyuume​

Masterlist | Posted on A03

“Remind me why people move houses?” You whined into the phone wedged between your shoulder and your chin as your co-worker’s laugh sounded through the receiver. “Seriously Jadu. Meetings with the publishing team are more fun.” You scolded pulling another cardboard box marked with ‘kitchen’ in messy sharpie closer to you. You thought there was something wrong with the house or the neighborhood when you originally saw the shockingly low offering price for the house.

With the heavy cardboard tucked under one arm, You singlehandedly heaved it onto the kitchen counter and sliced through all the packaging tape with a box cutter that was wobbly at best. “It's new and sometimes it’s hard, Y/N/N. Remember college-“ Jadu spilt down the phone regaling you with the tale of how he’d walked into their shared accommodation while you were in nothing but a towel. “There's also that midnight romp-“

“I’m going to hang up if you continue.” You scolded as you began to unpack the kitchen box. “But still. Who thinks that car sex is comfortable? I’m sure the searing wheel was trying to merge with my spine.” You joked remembering how the thing had dug into the small of your back and no amount of kissing and touching could distract you from that. Slowly you floated around the small kitchen storing everything away into its proper place, eventually, the house was beginning to look lived in and to like it had sat empty for what the estate agent had described as years.

Glancing at the circular dining table, it had several boxes piled onto it dangerously. You’d chosen to take the majority of moving and reorganising yourself since the other things you were bringing with you was kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and your office. “Still can’t believe you moved out to the middle of nowhere into an almost fully furnished house for dirt-cheap.” Jadu muttered, taking charge of the conversation and expressing his distaste for the house and ‘energy’ around it. You rolled your eyes, and you disposed of the phone on the kitchen counter and hit the loudspeaker button as you tuned to start flattening the cardboard box out while listening to Jadu ramble on about how the photo’s he’d seen of the house were everything but welcoming and that the energy levels were out of ‘whack’.

You muttered quietly to yourself as you went in search of the crumpled water bottle from your bag leaving Jadu to his ramblings even if he believed his concerns were justified. “Have you ever met your neighbours?” Jadu’s recognisably brash tone echoed through the newly packed away kitchen.

You stopped threshold into the kitchen as you took a more than generous gulp from the water bottle, the question had sparked a memory for earlier in the day. “Honestly I’m surprised the neighbourhood welcome committee hasn’t made an appearance.” You chuckled, picking up the phone and placing it on top of the two boxes titled ‘Bedroom’. “How are things at work anyway?” You asked, seeing as you’d now become part of the growing percentage of people working from home.  

You listened to Jadu sigh heavily and began talking about how he was missing out on stuff because the company wasn’t allowing him to have as much time off as he used to but given that he worked with a very picky publishing team then it was expected that his workload was almost never-ending. “I mean someone in publishing is giving me a deadline for editing a manuscript that doesn’t belong to one of their clients. Do you see my issue here?” Jadu complained, sounding as if he was passing through the seven stages of grief and got stuck somewhere between bargaining and anger.

You hummed quietly as you ascended the stairs of the old house with a cardboard box under your arm and the other waiting at the bottom of the stairs for when you made the next trip. “Is it Nyla? She’s department head and might be very aware of how ‘quickly’ you zoom through stuff.” You smirked hearing the hefty huff from Jadu on the other end of the phone, Jadu had a pension for leaving some projects till the last minute and then pushing them onto someone else days before the deadline. “Speak of the devil…” Jadu began and added a hurried ‘I gotta go’ before he hung up the phone. Shaking your head, you laughed a little as you stood in the doorway to your bedroom. Whoever lived there previously had removed the door and hadn’t bothered to replace it. The room was sparsely decorated, missing a door and the pastel-painted walls made you want to throw something but at least the mattress looked like it didn’t have any funky-looking stains or weird smells and the rest of the furniture was intact.

“I have to get a bedroom door.” You breathed, settling on the mattress with the box next to you as you fell backwards and released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “I have to get food too.” You lamented the idea of your fridge being empty then takeaway sounded good, but you didn’t know what the local one was. “Guess I need to go to the store.” You huffed checking the time on your phone trying to decide if it’s worth going food shopping.

*

You revealed in the fact that her local grocery store wasn’t a long trek into town, the small grocery store felt like a glowing beacon in the afternoon of the quiet town. Stepping through the automated door, you immediately hesitated not knowing where anything was and almost scolded yourself for thinking that the store's layout was the same as the ones back home. Grabbing a basket, you set off on a small journey looking for anything that looked like it took the least amount of effort and time.

With time you came to know the store and tried to memorise the layout in case you’d need to make another trip during the week. You wandered through the aisles glancing at almost every shelf looking for the next thing on your list of foodie wants. “There you are,” You muttered as you settled your gaze on multiple packages of hard candy, heart stones, they were lightly spiced with cinnamon and reminded you of home and your grandparents, when they used to sneak you a packet every time they visited. “Wasn’t sure if I’d ever find you here.” You whispered to the packs of candy before hucking a total of six of the fairly small packets into the basket along with the pot noodles.

Pulling yourself away from the shelves you continued down the aisle and tried to mentally tally up the contents of your basket before colliding with something solid, sending you back a few steps. “Oh, sweet Jesus.” You yelped, almost giving yourself whiplash as you took in the tall mountain of a guy you’d bumped into. “Sorry about that. Didn’t see you there.” You apologised smiling brightly, as you readjusted your grip on the basket. The washed-out dark blue sweatshirt with a faded with a washed-out college emblem was the first thing that caught your attention simply because it took up most of your vision then it was the sheer size of the guy, he was almost as tall as he was wide or as your grandmother would have put it, he was built to last.

“You alright?” He asked, looking slightly panicked with a large hand extended almost like he was ready to catch her as if she was going to fall. You nodded, muttering your apologies and glanced over your shoulder at the elderly woman at the other end of the aisle seemingly waiting for them both to move. “No harm done.” He smiled and you had to almost choke on the almost inhuman noises trying to escape you. In your head, you were muttering about how downright adorable the guy’s smile was and how stupid you were for saying you didn’t see him there. He’s probably tall enough to change your lightbulbs without a ladder. “Dude how tall are you?” You rushed out before you could grab the words and push them through a verbal processor. Hearing a bassy chuckle rumble out of the man and you joined in almost embarrassed and awkwardly, feeling a warmth radiating from your cheeks and ears. “I’m sorry that’s weird. I’ll be going now.” You motioned as she stepped to the side and the tall guy followed, stepping in front of her again, you stepped to the right and he almost panicked he swapped sides and you unconsciously followed. They both dissolved into a side-to-side step dance almost everyone did at least once in their life.

Ducking down trying to hide the slight flush warming your skin as you glanced over your shoulder at the elderly woman whose shoulders were quietly quacking as she muttered to the teenage boy holding up the seemingly overflowing basket in both hands. “Attracted an audience, haven't we?” The tall guy observed, and you tossed a half-hearted glare at him as you tried to almost disappear into the shelves. “I’m 6’5 by the way.” He muttered sliding past you and went on his way deeper into the relatively small grocery store.

Almost like you were on autopilot, you wandered back towards the front of the grocery store to pay for your questionable food shopping. You attempted to make small talk with the young 17-year-old pottering about behind the counter, but it wasn’t returned and you marked it up to being wary of newcomers. “Thank you. Have a nice night.” You thanked lifting the plastic bag off of the counter and began the journey home.

*

“I am so fucking stupid,” You half yelled, and half sang into the silence of your entry hall. “How is that the first thing I say to someone.” You continued tossing your keys on the smallish storage cabinet to your left knowing the Jadu would tease you with the knowledge for eras to some. Muttering to yourself and wandered back into your barely lived-in kitchen and slammed the nondescript shopping bag on the counter and began making one of the pot noodles and tossing the rest of them into the cupboard above your head.

Still feeling the heat of your embarrassment you deflated slightly and leaned against the counter. “Dude how tall are you?” You question yourself again with a hint of disbelief even though you were sure that the guy's hands could easily cover your face. Robotically, you grabbed the kettle and began making your pot noodle, you‘d barely gotten the fork in your mouth when a soft knocking sounded against your front door. “Who in the hell.” You muttered skittering towards your front door leaving the pot noodle on the counter, the small strip of frosted glass on either side of your front door did little to give you an idea of who was standing on the porch.

Pulling open the door, you stood in your socks searching an empty porch for who' knocked on your door. Already you thought the neighbourhood’s kids were playing tricks on you. Moving to step on to the porch almost kicking into something warm and injuring yourself. You glanced down at the warmth on your toes, a Tupperware container sat close to your front door you were surprised that you hadn’t put her foot in it when she stepped out the door. “Um hello?” you greeted the container sceptically as she crouched down to collect it. “Thank you f-for the soup?” You thanked and questioned the container as you curiously tilted the container from side to side watching the soupy liquid inside move with your movements.

As you stepped back into your house you wondered if whatever was in the container would keep till tomorrow. Heading back into the kitchen you placed the container on the counter and unfolded the piece of paper taped to the side of it.

‘Hi, I live across the street and since you’re new here. And I guessed your fridge was probably empty, so I made a little extra broth and packed it up for you. Don’t worry it’ll keep till tomorrow just put it on the stove on medium heat for 20 minutes or in the microwave for the same. Welcome to the neighbourhood - Omera’ The note read, and you smiled at the kindness of Omera, a woman you’d yet to put a face to, while stuffing another fork full of pot noodle into your mouth, you tucked the note back into its original place and stored the container of broth away in her empty fridge.

*

You released a huff as you tried to make yourself taller to reach the bathroom windows handle, the steam from your most recent shower was so dense that it just didn’t want to dissipate and with a tight grip on the counter, you doubled your efforts and finally got the window open. With pride in your step, you wandered into your new bedroom with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as a familiar ring tone pierced the quiet of your bedroom. Without looking, you answered the phone and set it on loudspeaker, “Hello, you're on loudspeaker.” You garbled out as you rinsed your mouth out and placed your toothbrush by the sink. “Do you know how many times I’ve called you!” Your mom yelled through the phone and you visibly cringed at the sharpness in your mother’s tone, the woman was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be. “Anything could have happened. Are you sure the neighbourhood’s safe enough?” Your mother rattled on worrying about you even though you were in your 30’s with a stable income and living alone.

Smiling at the sentiment you grabbed your phone and climbed into the bed. “I’m fine Mom. The neighbourhood seems safe enough. I mean aren’t the estate agents legally obligated to tell me if it wasn’t.” You muttered as you settled crossed legged at the head of the bed, the weirdly comfortably headboard cushioned your back as you leaned back into it and the pillows to get comfortable. “What’ve I missed first? Is Dad still looking for work?” You asked as you placed the phone on the pillow next to you, warmth filled you as you silently listened to your mom explain how another nameless auntie had a baby, another cousin getting engaged and how your step-dad, Lanth; a man who’d worked the majority of his life, still refuse to take his retirement and you didn’t think he’d ever actually take it at this point.

“You know how Lanth is. Honestly, I’m starting to think I married a 20-year-old in an old man’s body.” Your mom explained you smiled at the warmth you heard in your mom's voice and when you’d originally met Lanth you’d been sceptical as every teenager was of their parent's new boyfriends or girlfriends. “But enough about us. What about you? Hm. How’s the new house?” Your mom asked, sounding as eager as you had when you’d originally agreed to drive out to meet the estate agent and view the house.

Reaching behind you to prop up the pillows a little and pull the clean sheets over yourself, you sighed a little, feeling a wave of tiredness trying to overtake your body. “Nevarro’s housing market hasn’t inflated like the rest of the states but honestly I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me that it's haunted or in a bad neighbourhood.” You stated relishing in the soft fresh scent of your sheets in comparison to the musty old smell the other ones had. Your mom's voice was muffled on the other side of the phone as if she was talking to someone or left the TV on a little too loud. “The pastel bedroom walls make me want to throw something...but what are you whispering about?” You questioned yawning halfway through the sentence as you slowly began to settle down for the night.

On the other end of the phone, your mom sighed heavily, and it was the tell-tale sign that usually came before news that you wasn’t going to like. “Lanth said there's a Mandalorian settlement out that way and that you might want to be careful.” Your mom explained, concerned and a little off as if she was relaying what was being said to her. You hummed in agreement; you knew not all of Lanth’s people were the same, but they were best approached with caution just in case. “Anyway, I’ll let you go. Goodnight. Love you baby.”

“Goodnight. Love you both.” You smiled into your pillow as you heard the baritone of Lanth through the phone telling her to sleep well and to be careful. You watched the screen blink a few times telling you that your mom had hung up the phone, sleep tugged at you as you pulled the sheets up under your chin and glanced around the bedroom one final time to centre yourself. “I still have to get a door.” You muttered staring at the dark abyss of the hallway before rolling over and trying to ignore the unsettling inky darkness but with the bedside lamp on you slowly began to drift off into a slight sleep.

[liliesoftherain]

23. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”24. “I can’t believed you talked me into this.” for Deku please

A/N: WOW I’M SORRY, this has been in my ask box forever. I feel terrible, so whoever you are anon, I’M SORRY AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!

Title: All in the Name of Pranks

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

23. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while...” 24. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Izuku Midoriya!:

Everyone knew who you were and what you did, you really didn’t bother trying to hide it. So it came as no surprise when you came up to Izuku with a so called ‘plan’, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Please Izuku?”

“I don’t know (y/n)...” You pouted up at him and he knew he was a goner, did you know how hard you had him wrapped around your finger? 

“(y-y/n)...” He whined, even though he knew he’d already follow whatever you would do, he hoped that maybe you would decide against it?

“Great! Thanks Izu, let’s get to work!”

Of course that was a stupid hope, it’s like you had pranking in your blood.

You had to do it.

You knew it was wrong, always up to no good, but you honestly couldn’t help yourself. It was so much fun, and all of your pranks were harmless anyways. The only person who didn’t think so was probably your teacher, as well as the main target of tonight's latest joke;

The one and only, the grumpy kid, 

Katsuki Bakugou.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t too comfortable with pranks in general, but you’ve dragged him into things before and you could tell he’s had fun!

You had spoken the plan, and Izuku still looked hesitant but he had agreed to help with the busy work nonetheless. You snuck onto the boys side of the floor, heading to Bakugou’s dorm, knowing he was out training with Kirishima and he wouldn't be back till later. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Izuku whispered, looking around to make sure they wouldn’t get caught as your picked the lock on Katsuki’s door. Years of pranking came in handy after all it seemed.

“Of course, I never back down from a challenge.”

“Sweetie, no one challenged you-”

“Shhhhhh no distractions.”

Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle, you really did look too cute to be upset at. Your tongue was peeking out between your lips, and brows furrowed. You made a noise of triumph as you heard the click of the door, and pushed him inside.

“Let’s get to work! I’ll cover this side of the room if you want to get the other.” You handed Izuku a bunch of sticky note pads, and he looked at them with another laugh.

“Jeez love, how much did you pay for these? You know he’s just going to destroy them..”

“One cannot put a price on a good prank, now hurry babe we have a ton of things to cover!”

You started putting the stickies on any and every surface you could. You wanted the entire room to be covered in these, custom made sticky notes that had “Lord Explosion Murder” printed on them. 

You cracked yourself up. 

Before long you had managed to cover a decent amount of the room, thanks to Izuku’s help it was going a lot faster than you had planned, but what you hadn’t planned for..

“(y/n)? Are you sure you want to cover his entire bed?”

“I’m positive, the walls and his desk just aren’t enough!”

“Won’t you run out of stickies?”

“I have a ton Izuku.”

“SHUT IT SHITTY HAIR, I’M NOT FUCKING FORGETFUL.”

You and Izuku shared a look of fear, hearing the owner of the room stomp louder till he was right outside the door. You quickly grabbed your boyfriend and rushed him into Bakugou’s closet with you. 

“I thought you said we had time!” Izuku panicked, voice barely above a whisper.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour!” You hissed back, voice matching his as you were trying to shut the closet door as quietly as you could.

“Oh my God, he’s going to find us! Then he’ll murder me! I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“SH he’ll hear you!”

You close the door and put your hand over Izuku’s mouth just as the front door of the room opened. You held your breath, scared he’d hear your thumping heart and loud breathing. Even though you were nervous, you were so excited because now you were able to see his reaction up front.

“What the fuck?” 

You held back your laughs, the slits in the door provided just enough of his face to see how far his jaw had dropped. Dropping your hand from your boyfriend's mouth, you leaned forward to catch a better look.

“What the fuck is this shit!?” You watched as he took a sticky note from the desk and examine it in his hands.

“Lord explosion murder.. Oh those fuckers are going to be murdered alright-SHITTY HAIR DID YOU HELP THOSE DUMBASSES WITH THIS?” He stomped out of the room and you let a snicker out. 

Izuku was practically shaking in nerves, not only was he going to get an earful from Katsuki if he found out, but he was hiding in his closet for goodness sake!

“Oh gosh babe we gotta go-” The slamming of the door cut him off as he held his breath, watching Katsuki come back inside with Kirishima.

“Oh dude! This is hilarious, are you sure it was Kaminari?”

“Who the fuck else would it be?”

“Kaminari isn’t this.. Creative though? This level of time and care seems to be too well done to be him bro, I don’t know.” 

“... FUCKING (L/N)!” 

You smiled up at Izuku who only looked down in fear.

“Here, let’s get this cleaned up before we go alright?”

“Tch. Once I get my hands on that loser loving prankster, I’ll kick some ass.”

The started to remove all the sticky notes, and you felt yourself grow bored.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” Izuku whispered, looking out at the two boys.

“Not if I got anything to say about it.”

“What-”

You opened the door with no cares, acting like if it was your own room to begin with. Katsuki and Eijirou looked over in shock, before Bakugou snarled at you and Kirishima only laughed.

“Hey (l/n), Midoriya!”

“Hi Kirishima! Good to see you.” You greeted, grabbing Izuku’s hand and pulling him out with you.

“DEKU! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD.” Katsuki darted forward, hands popping threateningly.

“K-Kaachan wait!” Izuku ran out the door, throwing your over his shoulder as he did so. 

You laugh your heart out, waving goodbye to the fuming boy as you did. Kirishima held onto him and yelled his goodbyes as Izuku carried you away from the crime scene. 

Once far enough away he set you down with a sigh of relief, looking at you with a shake of his head.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I’m pretty sure Kaachan is planning my funeral as we speak.”

You smiled up at him, taking his scarred hand into your own.

“Well I hope that’s not the case, I want a very long and fun life with you.” You pinched his blushing cheek, only causing him to turn even more red.

“I’d like that.. Th-that’s what, uhm, what I want too.” He whispered.

“Good, because I actually was already planning something else to piss him off, I still have a ton of left over stickers and there’s his school desk-”

“(Y/N)!”

Needless to say, he helped you anyways.

[teamrealitysplit]

Bleach.

The song used is "Wrecking Ball" by Mother Mother. tw: violence, death mention, blood, implied transphobia, abuse

But as everything must, they do move eventually. Without a word, Leon rocks back on his heels, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Somehow, his face is absolutely expressionless, and he looks at his brother, not quite sure whether that had really happened. Al looks back at him, a clump of brown matted hair falling into his face. The small movement makes him flinch, and his eyes drop, looking at Leon's bruised knuckles, and his bloody sleeves. Neither of them look at Jason, discarded on the concrete floor.

"Should clean that up," Al croaks.

Leon glances up at him, breaking out of the glazed stupor he'd drifted into. He looks confused.

"Your hands," Al says with a touch of uncertainty. "Should clean them up."

"Right," he says dully, inspecting them. The knuckles are tinted blue and red, although he doesn't quite look like he's seeing them in 3D. More as though they're some kind of words he hasn't quite figured out how to read yet.

"You bruised them on me. Probably the ribs," he offers helpfully, as if trying to explain. Not a hint of resentment.

"Right," he repeats, not moving.

"Your hair's got blood in it," he tries again, as if the only problem were the conversation topic. "Should probably clean that too."

"Probably," Leon nods again, starting to rock back and forth, easing into a crouch.

"And your-"

"Yeah," he cuts him off, firmly. "You hungry? I'm starving."

"Not really, no," Al pointedly doesn't look at the body of his dead roommate. 

"Great, how about the cornershop?" Reaching into his pockets and taking out his car keys, Leon stands, sauntering stiffly out of the room, whistling a little tune as the metal of his keychain swings around his finger. Every time they clank, Al feels the need to throw up a little stronger and dazedly thanks whoever's up there that he hasn't eaten in so long. In a zombie-like state, he walks to the car in his brother's wake, fingers numb. He isn't complaining, it's an improvement to the constant dull throbbing, but it's odd, not being able to feel a thing in them all the same.

"Radio, brilliant," Leon announces, mostly for his own benefit, making a show of loudly turning it on. A song starts blaring, and he turns it up, tapping his hands on the steering wheel as he hums along.

The backseat, Al decides, is the best option here. He shrinks back into the dirty upholstery and tries to block out Leon's attempt at blocking out everything else.

'I throw my plates against the wall and give it all I got, but, I aim to break not one but all, I'm just a big ol' wrecking ball,'  Leon hums, backing the car out of the empty parking lot. Wondering who'll clean up the bloody mess they'd made, Al considers asking. But he'd have to raise his voice for that, and that's the last thing on his mind right now. As promised, Leon drives them all the way to the nearest corner store, gazing into the bright neon sign for a few minutes before cracking open his door. "Back in a few, eh? Want anything?"

Al shakes his head.

"Suit yourself." To his dismay, the radio continues to blare the song as his brother steps into the store and he's left in the steadily darkening car. Reaching up, he flicks the indoor car light on. It reminds him of being small, and feeling the excitement of being out at night with his dad. His real dad. He'd lift Al above his head to see the streetlights, and they'd eat dinner in the warm glow of the backseat overhead. There's something potently nostalgic about sitting in that orange pool of light. Quite out of place with the metallic reek of blood. He flicks the light off again.

'It takes a dedicated hand to put it through the wall.'

It isn't the first time, but as Al sits there, he feels the inescapable urge to tear himself apart, piece by piece.

'You gotta wanna break the heart of all those pretty porcelain dolls.'

Maybe he doesn't mind the music as much now. It feels messy, somehow. It feels like he does.

'You gotta want to be the drummer in the band, you gotta want to be a battering ram.'

For the first time since all of it kicked off, Al feels angry. Properly angry. Mad enough for something drastic.

'You gotta see the artistry in tearing the place apart with me baby.'

"Leon!" he roughly jerks the car door open, yelling at the neon lit windows. They're thin enough for his brother to hear him, and he tilts his chin up as Leon turns to look at him from the register. "Bleach. We need hair bleach."

To his credit, Leon doesn't question it, merely turning around and pulling out a few boxes, wringing them up too. Al is back in the car by the time he gets back, bobbing his head along to the music.

"Alright?"

He pauses.

"Leon, do you remember when I came out?"

"How could I not," he raises an eyebrow. "Got both of us kicked out. Me for the second time."

"Yeah, well," Al leans forward, elbows resting on the shoulders of the front two seats. "Remember how you cut my hair and yours? And how you dyed yours black to match me?"

Leon laughs nervously. "No offense, but I don't really pull off the black."

"No shit," Al nods. "You're kinda white and ginger. With a fucking ponytail to boot."

"What does that have to do-" He cuts himself off, humouring Al. Guilt, maybe. If he turned around he'd probably be able to see the marks he'd made.

"Bleach," Al says with conviction. 

"Excuse me?"

"Your hair. its covered in blood. Why the hell shouldn't we?"

"Because-"  he falters. It's been a long day, he thinks. Nothing comes to mind.

 "Fine, so what? We're going to bleach our hair. That's your answer to all of this?"

Neither of them miss the accidental raising of his voice. Sitting back in the gloom of the back, Al doesn't respond, arms folded. Leon jerkily starts the car again. A tremor flares up in his left hand, which he fights by gripping the wheel until his knuckles are white under the bruises.

"No," he eventually answers, trying but failing to meet Leon's eyes in the front mirror.

"Then what? Why are you set on this?" "Simple."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We might look completely different, but we're still damn brothers. May as well try to show it."

"That's the dumbest fucking thing I've heard," Leon laughs bitterly.

"Maybe," Al shrugs, leaning his cheek on the car window, looking out at the hazy stars. "It's not me who needs the reminder, though. Call it repayment."

There's nothing Leon has to say to that. Previous - Next

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter One (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“Vanessa, Brooke’s going to be your partner.” Kameron throws a haphazard arm around Brooke, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh when Brooke rolls her eyes. “Careful, though. She won’t go easy on you.”

Brooke. So that’s her name.

“I don’t think she wants me to.” Brooke’s lip curls up in a smile as she gets closer, and Vanessa has to try hard, really, not to fidget. To stay cool.

Because she’s cool. Right?

“I won’t go easy on you either then, Miss Thing.” Vanessa sniffs.

Her bravado is going to get the best of her eventually, she knows that. But how’s Vanessa going to be the shit if she doesn’t convince herself of it first?

What do you get when you pair a retired boxer with a new girl who has something to prove? Another holtz multichap special, that’s what.

AN: Hi again!! It’s been awhile since the last multichap. This one isn’t as prewritten, and may take a little bit longer to post because of real life happenings. That being said, I hope you enjoy it! To whoever sent me a million asks on tumblr telling me to post it now rather than waiting: I love you. Writ, as always, is the best for betaing <3 Enjoy!

“I’m not going in there.”

“Like hell you aren’t. If I have to pick your ass up from the station one more time ‘cause you can’t stop picking fights with people twice your size, I’m gonna lose it.”

“How’s a musty boxing gym gonna help with that?”

Vanessa slouches in the seat of her sister’s car, crossing her arms, because the whole thing is stupid.

It had been Rob’s idea, anyway. Alexis’ boyfriend. Also the cop who’s kept her from etching ink onto her criminal record. Doesn’t make his idea any less ridiculous.

Alexis sighs, and the sight is reminiscent of their mom’s expression when she’s overworked and impatient and coming off a twelve hour shift. “Because you need to channel whatever… this is, properly. You can’t keep blowing up at people, ‘cause I’m not always gonna be around to bail your ass out.”

“He deserved it.” Vanessa mutters under her breath, because the guy did. “He wouldn’t stop harassing A’keria even though she told him she had a boyfriend, why wouldn’t I sock him in the jaw?”

“Because the cops had to come and break the fight up and the makeup on your face is doing absolutely nothing to hide your black eye.” Alexis’s voice is flat, and Vanessa looks in the mirror and scowls, because she hates that her sister is right. “All I’m saying is, there’s other ways to do things. Such as not punching strangers - even if they deserve it.”

“So coming to…Hytes Boxing is going to change that?” Vanessa wrinkles her nose as she reads the name on the side of the building. The fluorescent lights behind the sign are flickering, withering out, and the surrounding air has a faint odour reminiscent of gym socks.

Hell, the holding cell at the local station smells better. Vanessa’s had to spend the night there enough times to know.

“Maybe letting out some punches on purpose here means you won’t explode on people when you’re all worked up and mad. Worth a shot. And you owe me, ‘cause sooner or later Rob’s gonna get tired of me begging him to let you off without even a fine.”

“Getting into a bar fight isn’t a reason for a fine.” Vanessa mutters, because it’s not, or at least she thinks it isn’t. She should know the law better, for how much she likes to tow the line on it.

Alexis raises an eyebrow as she pulls the keys out of the ignition. “Here’s how it’s going to play out. You’re coming in here and looking around with me, or I’m telling cousin Linda about the time you coloured all over her white purse when we were kids and she never found out it was you who did it-”

Vanessa groans, holding up a hand to make her sister stop talking. “Jesus, fine. Lead the way into gym sock central.”

Looking around, Vanessa’s not sure if punching a bag is as satisfying as socking a douchebag in the face, but the sweat soaked athletes with their hands wrapped in bandages look like they’re enjoying it enough, from the way that they keep letting loose hit after hit. It feels almost cultish - the way the coaches are cheering their athletes on, the way that they wear the sweat dripping down their skin like a badge of pride.

Vanessa’s not sure if she wants to get herself that dirty, or smelly. Hell, she manages to keep her lashes in place most of the time she has to go off on someone to defend her girls. Though there are women in sports bras with braids running down either sides of their heads working out all over the gym, and it’s almost enough to make Vanessa change her mind.

A girl dressed similarly, but in a full tank top, waves from the front desk. She’s covered in tattoos, blues and greens lighting up her neck and chest and shoulders and Vanessa would get a closer look, really, if it didn’t mean that she’d be staring at the woman’s boobs.

“First time here?”

Vanessa chances a look down, spotting the woman’s name tag. “That it is, Kamer-”

“-So do y’all do anger management classes or something? ‘Cause my sister could use them. Or at least know how to throw a punch without breaking a knuckle. She’s done that.” Alexis leans across the counter, sticking out a hand for Kameron to shake, and she does with a grin on her face.

A real good first impression. Vanessa wants to disappear.

“Shut up, Alexis.” Vanessa grumbles, because there’s no way she’s coming back now, with Alexis embarrassing her at any given opportunity.

Not that Vanessa would expect anything else.

“We don’t have the first, but we can teach you how to throw a punch. Not that you look like you need much guidance.” Kameron looks Vanessa up and down, and it makes Vanessa feel better, really, for accidentally looking at her tits earlier. “You look scrappy. Who gave you that shiner?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can throw down a little.” Vanessa’s not gonna deny the truth, who is she to do that?

“Just a little?” Kameron raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips and it makes Vanessa scowl.

“Why, wanna test it out?”

“Seriously? Relax, Vanj.” Alexis holds out a hand, lets out a deep sigh. “Just take a class here. Don’t fight this nice woman.”

“I ain’t fighting anyone.” Vanessa mumbles, crossing her arms. Not yet, at least.

Kameron, for her part, looks more entertained than anything else, as she pulls out a flyer from behind the front desk. “Lucky for you, we have a sale on beginner classes right now, too. Think about it.”

“She doesn’t need to think about it. She’s doing it.”

“Shut up , Alexis.”

The fatigue in Brooke’s muscles and tendons only become noticeable once she’s out of the ring, once the adrenaline in her system gives away to a feeling of lead that drags her down, her feet like anchors on the ground that want to bring the rest of her body with them.

But it’s a feeling that’s reassuring, helping to remind Brooke that she’s alive. That she’s gotten to this point because she’s capable of pushing her body like this, that hit after hit and the light shuffle of her feet are all that she really needs to reach greatness.

She knows it’s not true, but it’s nice to live in delusion sometimes. She needs it these days.

Unrolling the wraps around her knuckles feels like she’s unwrapping an unlikely present every time, though her knuckles are calloused enough that a little bit of blood doesn’t bother her anymore. A cold rinse under the sink, a shake of her hands before she washes her face and she’s good to go.

Brooke still uses the lockers like she always did when she was a kid, and it feels too strange not to do so now. Doesn’t matter that she owns the place and easily could use the private bathroom.

It makes things too real.

She’s about to push the door open, hurl the towel into the laundry basket that sits just outside the entrance, but she stops. Someone’s watching her.

“Can I help you?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow, because the girl’s meticulously done hair and tight jeans don’t exactly fit in with the rest of the gym. Nor does the layer of makeup on her face, even though it does make her glow a little bit.

“Your hands get that bloodied up and nasty every single time?” The girl looks mildly impressed. Brooke holds in a smile.

Brooke smirks. “Doesn’t exactly fit with your manicure, does it?”

“Please.” The girl rolls her eyes, holding up her own hands with healing scabs along the knuckles. “You’re not that special, blondie.”

Huh.

“I stand corrected.”

Brooke likes her. Mostly because she’s the only person who’s stepped foot in this gym with enough balls to say something back to her. Everyone else is still hung up over the legacy of her dad, over treating her differently because she’s his kid-

-used to be his kid.

It isn’t easy when everyone walks on eggshells around you.

So maybe it’s a little refreshing to meet someone who has no sweet clue about the history of the gym, and no idea that she owns it now. She doesn’t necessarily need to know it, either.

“Don’t your nails break off when you throw a punch? That can’t be comfortable.” Brooke has to hold herself back from making a face at the long nails, dark red and making clacking noises against the wall that the girl’s hand is resting on.

“You think I got money for acrylics? These are press ons, mama.”

“That’s more like it.” Brooke leans against the wall, lets go of the door, if only because she’s enjoying the woman’s company. “Now what are you doing in a place like this?”

The girl holds up the flyer. “Thinking of trying a class. Not that I got a choice with my bitch of a sister.” She scowls, crossing her arms. “Since you go here and all that, would you recommend it? This shit fun?”

Brooke has to hold in a laugh. “It’s okay, yeah. I’d say it’s worth a try.”

She isn’t about to hype up her own gym but it’s fun, seeing what someone else thinks of the place without holding anything back.

“Maybe I’ll do it, then. Do y’all gotta pay for your own gloves and wraps?” Vanessa gestures to the items in Brooke’s hands, makes a face at the blood and sweat stains on them. “Hope that shit goes in the laundry.”

Brooke grabs the end of her wrap, starts to roll it up. “You have to buy them, but I have a feeling you’ll like it. They’ll be an investment for someone like you.”

The girl makes a face at Brooke, her nose wrinkling. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem like someone who can’t resist a challenge. There’s plenty of those here. Unless you want to let them go, of course.”

Sue Brooke, she wants to see what this girl is capable of, despite the fact that she looks like she’s never stepped foot in a boxing gym before today. There’s something about her that Brooke can’t help but be entertained by, despite the fact that she doesn’t even know her name.

“Let them go-bitch, I’ll be taking a class, don’t you worry your sweet little head about it.” The girl sniffs, running a hand through the waves on her head and Brooke’s reminded, for a second, of how sweaty and gross she must look next to her.

But hey, the girl’s still talking to her, so it’s a win.

“Good to hear.” Brooke can feel her lips curl up in a smile. She’s got this girl figured out already, and she likes it.

“Also I didn’t catch your name, Mohammed Ali. You a regular here or something?” The girl cocks her head, crosses her arms.

“You could say that. It’s-”

“Hytes, come over here!” Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym, and Brooke has to suppress a groan when she sees the redhead looking stricken in front of the cash register, which has probably broken down again. They really do need to buy a new one.

“Hytes?” The girl makes a face, her eyebrows raising on her forehead. “Ain’t that-”

“See you around, newbie.” Brooke pushes past her with a wave, heads for Kameron, because she can let the girl come to the realization by herself. She doesn’t need to be there.

Besides, Brooke has a feeling that the girl’s going to be back. She can find out her name another time.

“Vanj, I swear to God if you’re not in the car in the next thirty seconds-”

“What are you, a military sergeant? Relax! I’m coming!”

Alexis is scowling by the time Vanessa skids down to the car, sliding into the passenger seat mere milliseconds before Alexis presses down on the gas pedal.

“What took you so long, anyway?” Alexis chances a glance over at a red light and Vanessa shrugs, before pulling down the passenger seat mirror.

“No reason.”

Vanessa had absolutely not been trying to get her braids to look like those of the girls at the gym as they had been about to leave. Nope.

Not at all. Even though that’s exactly where Alexis is dropping her off.

She’s kinda succeeded, though. Almost feels like she’ll blend in with them.

Except that it’s a bit of a rude shock when they reach the gym, and Vanessa’s confronted by all the muscle. The guns. The quads. The abs poking through. All of the athletes are built, really built, and it’s enough to make Vanessa shrink back against the entrance every second a punching bag rattles, or a body hits the floor.

How’d she ever think before coming back here that she was gonna cut it?

But the hole in her bank account left by the deposit for the beginner boxing class is hard to forget (sweet jesus, she needs payday to hit again). So Vanessa heads towards the change rooms, pushing the heavy doors open because she doesn’t really have any other choice.

“No, wait, wait, I wasn’t ready! We gotta start again, girl.”

“Not my fault you can’t hold a handstand. You snooze, you lose.”

“I’m gonna push you over-”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

Vanessa has to try hard to hold back a laugh at the mess of limbs in the middle of the change room, two girls having fallen on top of each other yet somehow still bickering. She scoots around them but can’t tear her eyes away, especially as their argument continues while they go back into handstands.

“You play dirty.”

“Do not. All is fair in love and war, baby.”

“They’re always like that. Don’t mind them.” The voice in Vanessa’s ear makes her jump, as a girl in a purple sports bra and leggings walks up to her, starts putting bobby pins into her hair. “Pretty standard.”

“Mind them? I’m loving this free sitcom. Is it always handstands?” Vanessa tilts her head and watches as one of the girls tries to walk in her handstand. The sight is impressive, admittedly.

“Yesterday it was cartwheels across the hallway. I swear, one of ‘em will break their wrists doing stupid shit before they ever hurt it while sparring. Not that it isn’t entertaining as shit.” The girl beside Vanessa shrugs, sticks her hand out. “Asia.”

“Vanjie.” She’s not sure how hard she needs to shake Asia’s hand, if the girl is judging her handshake strength, but Vanessa doesn’t get to mull it over much before the girl is pulling her hand away, pointing to the two girls in the middle of her room.

“Is that your real name?” Asia raises an eyebrow and Vanessa shakes her head, snickering.

“You think my mom would look at my bald newborn head and name me Vanjie?”

“I got a cousin named Eunice, so you never know.” Asia shrugs, before pointing to the two still wrestling on the ground. “These two bozos are Monet and Monique, respectively.”

Monet pushes her braids away from her face and waves. “I’d shake your hand with mine, but I was trying to push Monique over and I’m pretty sure she farted on it-”

“Bitch, what-”

Asia shrugs when Monet and Monique start to wrestle on the ground. “See?”

Vanessa snickers. “Y’all are wild. Real wild. I love it already.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, girl.” Asia shrugs, starts wrapping her knuckles. “So, you joining the class?”

“Something like that.” Vanessa shrugs, and there’s so many things she wants to ask, all the curiosity building up inside her about what’s going to happen but she keeps it back. Doesn’t want to look too keen already. “What’s it like?”

Asia cocks an eyebrow when an announcement begins to blare on the overhead speakers. “You’re about to find out.”

It doesn’t take long for Vanessa’s intrigue to fade into breathlessness, a desire to collapse on the matts because she’s about to pass out, truly pass out, only fifteen minutes into the class. Or at least her legs and arms are going to collapse on her from all the hell she’s putting them through, trying to keep up with Kameron’s barking orders that seem specifically designed to torture her.

“Give me another set! Twenty burpees, let’s go!”

“I thought-this was a boxing class.” Vanessa pants out the words in between gasps for breaths, looking over at Asia who is equally as sweaty.

Asia shrugs before dropping down for another burpee, nearly falling on her own arms. “Can’t punch someone if you don’t have the strength and endurance to back it up. At least, that’s what our lovely dictator up there says.” Asia lets out a groan, rolling her shoulders before her next rep. “Crazy bitch.”

“What was that, Asia?” Kameron raises her eyebrows from her spot at the front of the room, and Asia wastes no time in shooting her a dazzling smile.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Vanessa’s not sure if she catches Kameron winking at Asia, but the ache in her arms is more important for her to focus on right now. The last few reps of burpees make Vanessa feel like she’s going to throw up, maybe die before she makes it to the end, from the way the sweat is dripping from her brow and her legs are shaking and-

“Water break!”

Finally.  

Vanessa practically stumbles to the bench, grabbing her water bottle and collapsing onto the seat in one fell swoop. Asia plops down beside her, wiping her sweat on the back of her hand as she leans against the wall, while Monique and Monét traipse over almost leisurely, as if Kameron hadn’t just attempted to murder them all through exercise.

“Shit. No wonder y’all are fuckin’ built like you belong in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.” Vanessa rests her head against the wall, stares up at the giant ceiling fans that do little to circulate the stale air around the gym.

“We actually have to try for it! This one over here,” Monet exclaims, pointing to Monique, “already has a natural six pack. Freak of nature, jesus.”

“It’s called eating well.” Monique sniffs, tossing back a sip of water.

Monét raises an eyebrow. “You had an entire pizza for dinner last night. Not half. A full pizza. And your stomach is rock solid.”

“The lord just blesses some of us, that’s all.”

“C’mon back, guys.” Kameron’s voice calls out, and Vanessa can’t help but let out a groan, closing her eyes.

She can’t keep going. She’s too weak. Her muscles are fully jelly and-

“Hey!” Vanessa yelps when Monique and Monet each grab one of her hands, pulling her up into a standing position.

“C’mon. The fun part of class is only starting now.” Asia tilts her head towards the punching bags that Kameron is steadying, the mats that she is pulling out of the closet against the wall. “No more burpees anymore.”

Now this is a setting Vanessa can vibe with. She follows the other girls in grabbing her hand wraps, tries not-so-subtly to watch how Monique and Monet wrap theirs almost effortlessly. Even Asia ties hers off with a flourish, and Vanessa has to fight back some choice words slipping from her lips as the wrap on her right hand keeps coming loose, the fabric slipping whenever she wiggles her fingers.

“Alright, I’m gonna need a volunteer to help me demonstrate-Asia, look at you raising your hand so nicely.” Kameron’s grinning as she beckons to Asia, who’s sitting on the mats with a mock offended expression on her face, her mouth wide open.

“My hand is all the way down.” Asia crosses her arms, but Vanessa can see a small blush rising on her cheeks.

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “Should I ask someone else?”

Asia pauses. “Nah.” She scrambles up, joining Kameron at the front of the class, and Vanessa can tell she’s satisfied.

Vanessa’s not sure of the vibe she’s picking up between the two of them, but she’s intrigued. Way intrigued. Enough that she misses out on Kameron calling for the class to find partners, and she’s left by herself when Monique and Monet pair up and the rest of the attendees in the class find their own counterparts.

Shit.

“Who doesn’t have a partner?” The question is unnecessary, really, when Kameron zones in on Vanessa in a second, and it nearly makes her shrink back.

Vanessa feels like she’s the last one being picked for a team in gym class, the one that nobody wants in their group. This class isn’t really like that, she knows, what with three girls being nice to her already, but it’s hard not to feel like a fish out of water when everyone already knows each other. She fiddles with loose threads on the mat underneath her, tries to ignore the part of her that wants to disappear.

Kameron jogs over to the other side of the gym, and Vanessa cranes her neck to see where she’s going as she pokes her head into the makeshift office in the corner. “Hytes! Stop fiddling with Microsoft Excel and get over here.”

Hytes?

“The work isn’t gonna get done on it’s own, Kam.”

The familiar voice makes Vanessa draw in a breath, and she has to keep herself from shifting on the mat when the blonde walks out, the same one that Vanessa had met on her first visit to the gym, the one whose eyes are lighting up in recognition upon spotting Vanessa.

Except the girl can’t be looking at her. Can she?

“Vanessa, Brooke’s going to be your partner.” Kameron throws a haphazard arm around Brooke, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh when Brooke rolls her eyes. “Careful, though. She won’t go easy on you.”

Brooke. So that’s her name.

“I don’t think she wants me to.” Brooke’s lip curls up in a smile as she gets closer, and Vanessa has to try hard, really, not to fidget. To stay cool.

Because she’s cool. Right?

“I won’t go easy on you either then, Miss Thing.” Vanessa sniffs.

Her bravado is going to get the best of her eventually, she knows that. But how’s Vanessa going to be the shit if she doesn’t convince herself of it first?

“We’re gonna do some simple drills today. Help drill them into all of your heads, if you will.” Kameron grins, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh at how proud she looks of her own joke.

“Booo.” Asia brings her gloved hands to her face, makes a faux microphone that she points towards Kameron, who rolls her eyes.

Vanessa raises a brow, nudges Monet as Kameron explains their first few combinations. “Are they…?”

“Nope.” Monet shakes her head. “Not together. But Asia’s been taking the newbie level classes with us for ages despite taking the intermediate ones too, only because Kameron teaches both of them.”

“This is some juicy tea for my first day.”  

Monet grins. “Stay tuned, bitch.”

A psst makes Vanessa spin in place, turn back towards Brooke who’s looking at her with a raised brow of her own. “Are you planning on trying these drills out today, or…?”

“Yeah. Totally am. See?” So maybe the words leave Vanessa’s mouth a little too eagerly as she bounces in place, but it doesn’t matter, because Brooke’s already holding her own gloves up, beckoning Vanessa closer.

Vanessa replays what Kameron had demonstrated earlier as she tries the movements out against Brooke’s gloves. “Jab, jab, cross-hey!”

Because Brooke blocks them, lands a light jab of her own and it’s not fair, it really isn’t, not when Vanessa had no idea it was coming.

“That’s not part of the drill!”

“Nothing is in real life. Gotta be light on your feet, always on alert, Vanessa.” Brooke’s grinning, and Vanessa can already hear Monique and Monet cracking up behind them.

Vanessa has to resist the urge to pout, cross her arms - not that her gloves would even let her do so, anyway.

“C’mon, try again.” Brooke holds her gloves up, and Vanessa is wary, because what’s Brooke going to do, now?

But Vanessa has never been one to back down from a challenge. So she goes for it, throws the first jab but counters with her opposite hand a step before she’s supposed to, raising her dominant hand to block her face. It’s enough to avoid Brooke’s jab, land one of her own, and sure, it’s not in the drills, but the look of surprise on Brooke’s face is satisfying, especially when Monique whoops from behind them.

“She’s a spicy one!” Monique nudges Monet as she says it, and Vanessa can’t help the shit-eating grin that grows on her face, even as Kameron walks over with a raised brow.

“We’re doing drills for a reason. No freestyling, not even from you, Hytes.” Kameron taps Brooke’s shoulder as she walks away, but Brooke’s eyes are lit up with something Vanessa can’t quite recognize.

Intrigue? Respect, maybe? Vanessa’s not sure.

But she knows she’s definitely caught Brooke’s attention now, if she hadn’t done so already.

Vanessa’s arms are aching, her body covered in sweat and she feels like she’s going to collapse once she sits down, but…

She’s never felt more invigorated in her life.

She wants to go back to the class, have another turn against Kameron’s punching gloves, maybe practice the combinations she’s just learned. She wants Brooke across from her again, looking at her with those eyes that she wants to unravel, get to know more. She wants to learn, she wants to get better and better, because whenever she starts something, she wants to build on it. Become an expert, become the best.

Of course, life isn’t that easy. Most of the time, when Vanessa starts something, she abandons it not too long after, because sticking with things is hard and her attention likes to jump around, find a new target.

But something about channeling her energy for a reason, being strategic on purpose, had felt nice in the class. Sure, she’d felt like a damn fool as the other participants followed the combos with a practiced hand, a familiarity, while she’d initially stumbled through, but things are going to change. Vanessa feels it, because she wants to stay.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can jump from this bench to that one across the room.”

“Better get your wallet out.”

Vanessa cracks an eye open, and Monique’s tentative look across the room as she stands on the bench makes her raise a brow. Monet looks entirely too pleased, and it’s not too hard to figure out that she’s set Monique up.

“How the fuck do you both still have any energy right now?” Vanessa doesn’t get it. She’s tired to the bone, heck, she’s probably never going to get up from the bench again.

“‘Cause I have to always prove her wrong, that’s why.” Monique sniffs, as Monet shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

Vanessa likes them. They’re the same brand of insane as she is and it’s almost as if she’s watching her very own sitcom, from the way the two of them bicker all the way to the showers.

Vanessa kicks off her shoes, leaning herself back against the cool metal of the lockers and she can’t hold back the sigh that escapes her lips. It’s a wonder that the heat emanating from her skin isn’t visible steam because she feels like she’s on fire from the inside, like the sweat dripping from her brow, along her shoulder blades is never ending. She’s gonna need a long shower.

Pulling off her gloves makes her hands feel so much lighter, able to move. Vanessa opens and closes her fingers, makes a face at the sight of the wraps around her hands that have already begun to unravel, coil on the bench in a heap. She hadn’t exactly known how to fasten them properly before the class, not that she does now, either.

Oh, well. She has time to improve.

“Your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off yet?”

Brooke. Looking just as sweaty as Vanessa feels, as she tugs out the braids in her hair and sits down beside her.

“No.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow.

Brooke smiles. “Good. Bodes well for your next class then, doesn’t it?”

“What makes you think I’m coming back?”

Vanessa’s always entertained by people like Brooke. The ones who look put together, all calm and collected even though they can be anything but. She wants to see what makes Brooke tick, feel out her buttons. See if she can catch her interest, whether it be through annoyance or enjoyment.

“Please.” Brooke snorts, looking Vanessa up and down, and it’s hard not to feel exposed. “I saw the way you were out there. You were having the time of your life, you can’t even deny it.”

“I was not.”

She was. But Brooke doesn’t need to know that.

“I know you’ll be back.” Brooke winks, rises to her feet, and Vanessa has to try hard to keep her eyes on Brooke’s face, rather than let them drag down lower. “Girls like you always are.”

“Girls like me - hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa stands on her tiptoes, watches the way Brooke disappears towards the showers.

Brooke shrugs, raising an eyebrow before turning the corner, and Vanessa has never wanted to follow someone more.

“See you around, Vanessa.”

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.2

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

A loud scream Jackie wasn’t prepared for disturbed her slumber and made her jump, lying on her stomach and propping the upper-half of her body up with her hands pushing against the mattress. She calmed down as she became used to the crowing of the rooster… or an opera singer dying… one of the two. Jackie relaxed and fell back on the bed. So that’s what Stan had meant yesterday.

Looking forward to her first day, Jackie hopped out of bed and started to get dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt with boots. No sense taking a shower now since she would get sweaty and gross later; she’d treat herself to a bath after dinner, like she did yesterday. After a quick brush through her jet-black hair, she took in a deep breath and gazed around her bedroom.

Stan said it was a guest bedroom, not that they ever had any guests, but Ma had this part of the house built in with the idea of visiting grandchildren. So Jackie was granted a small bedroom with a comfortable bed with an old quilt, a dresser, a nightstand, and a Jack and Jill bathroom with the opposite bedroom promised to be Fiddleford’s when he came up here from Tennessee. Jackie, who didn’t come here with much, was comfortable and anything she couldn’t fit in the nightstand and dresser she kept in boxes under the bed.

Jackie finally emerged from her bedroom and peered up and down the short hallway. She listened and could hear the shower running. As she journeyed to the kitchen her nose picked up the beautiful aroma of coffee and she instantly saw the pot filling up and heard the boiling water when she entered the empty kitchen. Whoever was in the shower must have started the coffee so it would be ready by the time they were done. Seeing no indication that breakfast was going to be made and given what she learned yesterday (that the boys couldn’t cook to save their lives), Jackie rubbed her hands together and started to hunt for ingredients to make biscuits.

About fifteen minutes later, Stan came out of the bathroom with a puff of water vapor behind him, shaking his mullet dry with a towel, his maroon robe wrapped loosely around him. He hummed to himself drowsily as he strode to the kitchen, but his not-so-keen senses heightened as he swore he could smell something cooking. Bacon? His mouth watering, Stan picked up the pace a bit without running and saw Jackie working hard in the kitchen. Holy Moses, who knew he had hired the best cook in Oregon?

“‘Mornin’.” He greeted casually.

Jackie glanced at him and her face dropped in shock. His toned, hairy chest was half-exposed, his legs bare below his knees apart from his slippers, and he had a smile on his face alongside those nice pair of brown eyes, the kind of smile you naturally mimic. It’s more contagious than the flu. Jackie caught it and returned it. “G’mornin’. Slept well?”

Stan shrugged. “Yeah, pretty good. You? Bed okay?”

“Yeah, it’s real comfortable.” Jackie replied. “Fix your coffee and sit down, biscuits are almost ready.”

Stan threw his towel onto the back of his chair and went to the cupboard above the coffee machine for a mug. Standing right next to Jackie and the stove, he saw a skillet full of sausage gravy being cooked, a pan sizzling with bacon, and she was currently cracking eggs into a bowl while another pan heated up. Stan marveled at how one person can keep an eye on so many things at once.

“You like your eggs scrambled?” Jackie asked.

Stan shrugged. “Sure.” His favorite way to eat eggs was over-easy, but hey food is food. The farmer can force anything down his gullet if needed. He watched as Jackie whisked six eggs in a big bowl and added previously shredded cheese, some chopped basil, and a small splosh of milk. Stan raised an eyebrow at that. “Why add milk?”

“Makes the eggs fluffier.” Jackie explained as she threw in some salt and pepper, whisked some more, and then poured the eggs into the small pan. The little hand-timer dinged and Jackie slipped on some oven mitts to pull out the pan of biscuits. Stan’s jaw dropped as the new farm-woman had a tray of twelve beautiful, fluffy, golden biscuits. She carried the tray to the table, where a dishcloth was folded to protect the wood, and she sat the tray down and used a little brush to paint melted butter on top. Stan licked his lips and reached to grab one, but Jackie smacked his hand and said, “Wait, mister, if you eat ‘em now you’ll burn yourself.”

Stan snorted as she turned back to the oven to flip the eggs with a rubber spatula and Stan sat with his mug of black coffee. Ford entered the room, yawning, but fully dressed. He had a rolled-up newspaper under his arm and he dozily threw it to Stan, who caught it one-handed like it was a baseball and opened it. “‘Mornin’, Sixer.”

Ford grunted as he grabbed a mug like a drunk man, poured some coffee, sweetened it with some sugar and milk, and gulped it down. Jackie watched him with a raised eyebrow as she moved the bacon onto a plate. Some people simply could not function in the morning. Ford poured a second cup, sweetened it, and sighed after a few sips, and then sat in his chair to breathe and obtain his necessary caffeine. 

“How long before he can talk again?” Jackie asked as she sat the bacon down and quickly moved to the eggs.

“I’d say two full cups for half-baked sentences n’ a full pot for him to function like a normal human bein’.” Stan sneered playfully as he read the headline.

“Har, har.” Ford said sarcastically. He then blinked a few times at the realization of another feast before him. Jackie set the big bowl of cheesy scrambled eggs down and began to move the gravy to another bowl. “Holy Moses, Jackie, you didn’t have to…”

“What else am I payin’ her for?” Stan asked but took the time to throw her a wink so she knew he was joking.

Jackie snorted and sat the bowl of sausage gravy down and made herself a mug of coffee. “Since none of you know how to cook and I don’t wanna eat brown meat, I figured I’d make breakfast.”

“Hey, I can make some mean pancakes.” Stan corrected. “Sure they got a bit of hair in them, but…”

Ford and Jackie laughed and the young scientist reached for a biscuits and was pleased to find it didn’t burn his fingertips. He bit straight into it to give it a try and it was like his brain had exploded. He had never thought he would ever know what it was like to eat a cloud, but here he was. He hummed and took another huge bite, too happy for words.

Jackie’s cheeks suddenly felt a little warmer and she smiled as she spooned herself some eggs.

While Ford happily fixed himself some biscuits n’ gravy, Stan bit into a biscuit as he read his paper and he froze like a statue. Angles were suddenly dancing on his tongue. He moved his eyes to Jackie and muttered, “I’d have to marry you if you always cook this good.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, your mother never cooked?”

“She always cooked,” Stan explained. “N’ she was good at it, too, but you’re… you’re really, really good!” And he engulfed the rest of the biscuit in his mouth.

“What Stanley is trying to say,” Ford said firmly and smiled at the dark-skinned woman. “Is that we’re extremely grateful you’re here.”

Jackie returned the smile. “Thanks. I’m grateful to be here. What made you decide y’all needed help?”

“Well,” Ford sipped his coffee again and began to explain in detail why exactly the twins decided to hire extra help on their farm. “You see we can handle it for the most part by ourselves, with Stanley handling the sheep and chickens and with me supervising the crops and sales, but recently something has caught my attention and… erm, kept me away from the farm, and it’s too much for one man to do on his own.”

“What’s been keeping you out of the farm?” Jackie asked, not at all judgmental as to why this man wasn’t helping his brother, but curious as to what caught his attention.

“Recently some strange things have been occurring.” Ford added. “I don’t know if it’s because I went away to college and saw what was considered normal and not normal or what, but there have always been weird happenings in this town. The deeper you go into the woods, the more natural anomalies there seem to be.”

“Which means stay outta the woods.” Stan said firmly.

“Which means, since we live on the outskirts of Gravity Falls, we’re safe.” Ford corrected. “But I plan to further investigate what’s going on, and I wish to spend all of my time doing so to quickly get to the bottom of it. I also need some help, and Stanley is too busy and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to be at my beck and call, so I’ve asked my old college buddy to come down to help me investigate the strange findings in this town.”

“I get it, okay,” Jackie said with a nod, it all making sense now. “But what kind of weird stuff have you been noticing?”

Ford grinned excitedly. “You’ll see in time.”

Jackie blew a raspberry at this guy deciding to be “cool” and mysterious, making him laugh and resume his breakfast. “So, what kind of stuff we’ll you have me do?” Jackie asked Stan.

“Well,” Stan closed his newspaper. “Since it’s your first day I’ll walk you through everything. Some stuff you’ll do every day, some stuff only on certain days. The chickens need to be fed, the sheep need to be let out, the cow’s gotta be milked, n’ the crops gotta stay healthy n’ weed-free.” And he left the table to get dressed in a red button-up and jeans.

Stan made Ford do the dishes, claiming they were behind on work and it would take longer to get everything done since Jackie was learning. Right by the kitchen door, next to two big pairs of rain boots, was a huge bag of chicken feed. “We gotta keep it here or the hens get into it.” Stan explained and opened the bag, showing a big measuring cup inside. “One cup’s enough, just spread it out n’ don’t pour it all at once. If they’re still hungry there’s plenty of bugs.”

Jackie nodded, taking mental notes, and watched as Stan scooped out some food and opened the back door. Jackie had seen the farm yesterday, but to see the sun rising on the barns and crops made the whole thing sparkle gorgeously. She grinned at the little chicken coop by the house and watched Stan sprinkle out the feed as he whistled. A dozen or so hens scurried out of the coop with one big rooster standing as king on top of the small structure, and he fluttered his wings and floated down for food.

“That’s our rooster, Clock.” Stan explained as he put the cup back inside the bag, grabbed a woven basket, and closed the kitchen door behind them so no chickens would run into the house. “Here, get in the coop n’ collect eggs. We don’t need a whole lot, so don’t freak out if the hens aren’t makin’ that much.

“Any chance they’ll have chicks inside?” Jackie asked, eyeing the loud and proud rooster.

“Nope. Clock’s an old boy.” Stan explained. “That’s why he sounds so bad. We haven’t had a chick from him in years. Hey, he always does his job, though.”

Jackie chuckled and ducked into the chicken coop. Some nests had no eggs but some had one or two. Jackie carefully collected them and knew they would be great for baking and breakfast. When she emerged, Stan tossed a metal bucket to her. “Sheep need water. There’s a well out that way, just make sure they won’t get thirsty after you put the eggs in the kitchen. I’ve already got ‘em out in the field. If you need me I’ll be in that barn over there.” And he pointed to the smaller one of the two.

Jackie nodded and headed in the direction he pointed toward when talking about the well. As she walked, she took in her surroundings and was free to acknowledge how big his farm was. There was a lot of land, with the woods acting as the border. On one side of the land it was full of crops like a big cornfield, rows of carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, watermelons, and pumpkins, and closer to the house strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries blossomed. Jackie also noticed a little herb garden growing in a basket on the back porch, not too far from the kitchen door. 

On the opposite end of the crops was the two barns and a huge patch of clear land for the sheep. Jackie awed at the thirty-something sheep that “bah”ed quietly and gnawed on grass, their coats a bit short, telling Jackie that they had been trimmed not too long ago. Somewhat between the crops and the fields for animals was an old well that might have once been the primary source of water here, but thanks to modern plumbing now it was only used for the livestock. Jackie saw another bucket tied by a rope with the pulley system and she was clever enough to figure it all out on her own.

Mustering up her strength and hardly breaking a sweat, Jackie filled her own bucket with water and carried it to where the sheep dwelt. By the fence that kept them away from the crops, there was a trough, so Jackie poured the water in it and the sheep came flocking, craving water. She chuckled and noticed the trough wasn’t full, so she walked back to the well, refilled her bucket, and poured it out again, this time sploshing some sheep a little, but they didn’t mind. In fact, they started licking each other’s faces for more water, making Jackie laugh and she petted a nearby sheep and admired the soft wool.

As she petted the sheep, she caught something out the corner of her eye and looked over at the smaller of the two barns. Stan was emerging with a beautiful gray and black horse and then gently slapped his behind so the horse would know he’s free to wander. The horse galloped for a bit and then slowed, lapping up some water at his own trough. Jackie wondered if she needed to fill that one, too, but Stan made his way to the well with his own bucket and watered the horse. Jackie smiled and walked to Stan, ready for her next chore.

“That there Truffles.” Stan explained, pointing to the horse as the woman approached. “Stubborn. It’d be best if you let me handle him. He doesn’t like people much, even gives Ford a hard time.”

Jackie nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Watered the sheep? Good. Ever milked a cow? Well today you’re gonna learn.” Stan said and motioned for her to follow him into the smaller of the two barns. Inside were two stalls and equipment for a horse and a cow. Jackie could even see a horse-drawn sled collecting cobwebs in the back corner. “Luna’s okay, as long as you’re quiet. Doesn’t like noise much. She’s got a soft spot for Ford.”

Stan opened one of the stalls and Jackie got a full view of a white cow with only one big black spot over her right eye. She mooed at the visitors and licked Stan’s outstretched hand. Jackie couldn’t help but notice how gentle he petted her neck and talked to her. Despite having a voice made of gravel, his talk was as soft as silk. “Hey mama, good to see you, good to see you. Try to be nice for me, girl, okay. Alright, c’mere, Jackie.”

Stan pulled a short stool over and motioned for her to sit. He knelt beside the cow and placed the bucket below the utters. “It’s really simple, just squeeze n’ pull n’ squeeze n’ pull.”

“Okay,” The woman sat on the stool, held the bucket between her boots, and carefully grabbed an utter. It was soft and squishy and she could feel the milk, and she did as she was told and smiled to see delicious warm milk fall into the bucket.

“Not bad, not bad at all.” Stan commented with a smile. “Here, you can squeeze harder, you won’t hurt her. Like this.” He gently covered Jackie’s hand with her own and showed her just how tightly to squeeze and pull. Jackie followed, her eyes darting up to Luna, but the cow only happily chewed on some hay. She didn’t even twitch her tail with uncomfortably. Jackie smiled at Stan, thanking him for his help, and he returned the smile and let her go to milk. She milked just as well as Ford or Stan could, and when Stan checked to make sure Luna was empty, there was no milk left to obtain.

“Good job.” Stan praised and stood up. “Take the milk in the house n’ Ford can pan it. He’s got a knack for dairy n’ makin’ butter. He can teach you if you want.”

“Sounds great.” Jackie hoisted the bucket up and let it hang in front of her. “What after that?”

“Well, nothing’s ready to harvest yet.” Stan answered. “We’ll check for weeds n’ make sure the gardens are healthy, then I think we’ll be okay until the afternoon. Usually around noon is when we go into town, do laundry, chop wood, or whatever else needs to get done aside from mornin’ n’ afternoon chores.”

“Well what are the afternoon chores?” Jackie asked.

“Basically reverse of what we just did. I’ll put up Truffles n’ I’ll show you how to drive in the sheep. Then you’ll water ‘em n’ milk Luna again, or you can make Ford do it so you can cook.”

Jackie snorted. “I think I’ll do that.”

“Good. Then we’ll have your afternoon chores only be to drive in the sheep.”

“Anything needs to get done today?” Jackie asked.

“I can’t think of anything.” Stan said with a shrug. “Ma used to have a little jingle… Scrub on Monday, Laundry on Tuesday, Knit on Wednesday, Prep on Thursday, Bake on Friday, Rest on Saturday, Clean on Sunday. O’course, you can do whatever you want, s’long as work’s gettin’ done. I’m sure I can find you something to do.” He hinted at and winked.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “I like it. Your mom was really smart… What’s today? Wednesday? Well, I don’t feel like knitting or sewing, so I guess I’ll try to clean the house for when Ford’s friend gets here. Hey, what did your mom mean by scrub on Monday?”

Stan shrugged. “Usually that meant the kitchen n’ bathrooms. You know, the tubs, sinks, toilets, the oven, the stoves…”

“Ah, gotcha.” Jackie wandered out of the barn with Stan and said, “Well, after I check the crops I’ll scrub.”

“Have fun.” Stan teased and headed for the corn to check for crows and other pests.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Great, so we’ll see you on Tuesday?” Ford clarified. “Thank you so much, buddy. I owe you. No, of course we don’t mind. We’ve got plenty of room. You’re welcome, goodbye.”

Ford hung up the phone and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been foolish to think Fiddleford could simply drop everything and move across the country just to assist him. Foolish and selfish. What stung most was how worried Fiddleford had sounded over the phone when he began making his request.

There was no good in stalling and not telling Stan, he had to tell him that the plan had changed. Ford stood and exited the parlor to try to find his brother, probably out in the fields by now. He knew if he did he would get tangled into trying to help, which was fine for today, so Ford mentally prepared himself for hoeing and pulling weeds as he entered the kitchen and found Jackie entering the room with a bucket of milk. “Oh, thank you, ma’am.” He said politely. “I’ll pan it later, we’re low on butter. Right now I need to have a word with Stanley.”

“He’s out at the cornfield.” Jackie assisted.

“Thank you.”

Ford found Stan right where Jackie said he would. The younger twin emerged from the field, satisfied with the state of the corn, and raised an eyebrow when the older twin said, “Stanley, we have to talk.”

“What’s the word, Sixer?” Stan asked as they started to walk alongside the edge of the field.

“Fiddleford will be here on Tuesday…”

“Great!”

“... and he’s bringing his son.”

They kept walking as Stan gave Ford a surprised and confused look.

“Tate. His four-year-old.”

“I know who the boy is, Poindexter!” Stan snapped, irritated that that was what Ford thought he was confused about. “That’s fine, we’ve got room for him, but why in Moses’ name is he brinin’ Tate? I thought your friend was only visitin’ for a few weeks.”

Ford sighed and ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy hard-to-maintain hair. “Fiddleford is getting a divorce.”

Stan winced. He may not have known the nerd as well as Ford did, but from what he gathered he had been over the moon for his gal.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with Tater, either.” Ford added. “Says he’s too much like Fiddleford. He thinks this is a good way to start a new life, you know? Move here and help me, then maybe find their own place.”

“Or we can build a smaller second house.” Stan threw in. “More houses means more hands to work the farm, which means more money n’ more land.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Perhaps. For now I was thinking Fiddleford could have the guest bedroom and Tate could have the Jack and Jill bedroom.”

“Sure, I bet Jackie won’t mind.” Stan predicted.

“And you’re okay with Tate coming to live with us, too?” Ford double-checked.

“You kiddin’ me, I love kids!” Stan punched Ford’s shoulder and stood still with his arms cross over his chest. “It’ll be great, you wait n’ see! There’s plenty of stuff here to Tate to do until he’s old enough for school n’ nobody’s gonna get claustrophobic here. Not that Santa Claus is real.”

Ford groaned and pinched at his eyes under his glasses. “That was bad, even for you.” But the young investigator smiled at his twin and returned the punch on the shoulder. “Well, thank you. I know it’s a lot to take in in such a small amount of time…”

“You know something, Sixer?” Stan interrupted and gave him a slightly-more serious look. “It’s been too quiet here lately.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what your definition of quiet is, but…”

“You know what I meant.” Stan said firmly and resumed what he was trying to say. “I ain’t got a problem with it just bein’ the two of us - you know I don’t - but it’s been way too quiet here. I miss it bein’ crowded n’ busy n’ loud. So I say the more the merrier; n’ the sooner I can’t hear my own thoughts (though few there may be), the better.”

Ford smiled softly at his brother. It was true. The quiet had been appreciated at first, but now it wasn’t as appreciated as the noise that comes with good company. Ever since Ma and Pa had died and Shermie had gone back to California, it had just been the twins on this big farm. What Stan said was true, it was fine, and with Ford gone for four years while he earned as many PhDs as he had fingers, it was nice to reconcile and catch up. But now it was high-time the Pines family grew bigger and louder and weirder, the way it was supposed to be.

“Well, guess we should tell Jackie she’ll be sharing her bathroom, then.” Ford suggested and led the way away from the cornfield with his twin by his side.