#High schoolers.....LIFE GETS BETTER

[funkervogt]

So glad im not in fucking school anymore oh my god im like 4 years out by now and i just remember the fucking dread that came with waking up every morning...fucking awful

[j-esbian]

i know it’s a common millennial gripe that kids are coerced into picking their life trajectory so young, that a lot of people pick college because they feel that it’s What You’re Supposed to Do, rather than what’s right for them, but like. despite all of that, i really thought i was different

[biteyourbetters]

i've been. doing lots of new things recently. am i finally getting over the stagnation period of my life.

[stonersolana]

the loneliness just eats away at you

[caterpillareyelashes]

high school is so wild to me bc we’ve had only a few fights this school year but in the past tay days there’s been about 6! shoutout to the girl who got her hair ripped out and to whoever’s blood was on the smartboard <3

[adreamfromnevermore]

Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.

No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.

Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.

They're the most infuriating bitches around.

They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.

They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.

You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.

In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.

[bradshawsbaby]

Love in the Air

Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader

Summary: You weren't expecting anything interesting or exciting to happen on your flight from Virginia to San Diego. But what happens when you decide to shoot your shot with the handsome stranger sitting in front of you on the plane?

Word Count: 12.5k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my dear friend, @ryebecca for giving me the idea for this one! I've been mulling it over in my brain for a while now, and the super adorable Netflix movie Love at First Sight gave me some much-needed inspiration to finally see it through to completion. This story exists outside of the Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw Universe, which is sort of a first for me, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Travel anxiety, some very mild angst, discussions of parental death, brief language, lots of fluff.

If you had to rank your preferred modes of transportation, flying would probably be at the bottom of the list, beat only perhaps by public bus or bicycle. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to make it as smooth and easy a journey as possible, your experiences at the airport always turned into one catastrophe after another.

Your flight this morning was supposed to take off at 9:30am, which meant that you had scheduled the start of your day to ensure that you would be at the airport no later than 7:15, accounting for traffic and long lines at check-in and security. That, of course, meant that you had to leave your best friend, Katie’s house in Fredericksburg at 5:45 on the dot in order to make the sixty-one mile trip to Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport, and that was being generous. If the two of you stopped for coffee—which Katie insisted was a must—that alone had the potential to derail your plans, which had you nervously fiddling with the bracelet you never took off, the one your dad had given you as a gift for your high school graduation.

“Relax,” Katie laughed, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment to reach out and squeeze your hands reassuringly, halting your anxious movements. “You’re going to get there with plenty of time to spare. There’s literally no one on earth who’s a more responsible flier than you. Have you ever even come close to missing a flight?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, taking a small sip of your hazelnut iced coffee. It did little to calm your nerves, but it was one of the best iced coffees you’d ever tasted.

“Of course you haven’t,” Katie smiled, her eyes back in front of her as she signaled to merge into another lane. “So just take a deep breath and enjoy all this gorgeous fall foliage. I’m going to get you there without incident, I promise.”

Katie knew better than pretty much anyone how much flying tended to stress you out. The two of you had been attached at the hip since the first day of kindergarten. Your friendship had survived all the ups and down of adolescence, boy drama, the separation of going to colleges hundreds of miles apart, heartache, loss, and so much more. She was truly the sister you never had, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life. Even now that you were living in San Diego, and Katie and her husband had moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia for Josh’s job, nothing could keep the two of you apart.

Using a little bit of the vacation time you’d accumulated at work, you’d taken a long weekend to fly out and surprise Katie for her and Josh’s housewarming party. It had been months since you had seen your best friend in person, and the two of you had spent the past few days acting like a couple of high schoolers, staying up all night eating junk food and keeping poor Josh awake with your loud and hysterical fits of laughter.

You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been, all by yourself in San Diego, until you’d witnessed up close how cozy and happy Katie’s life in Virginia was.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of Katie, not by any means. She and Josh had met in college, and you were thrilled that your best friend in the whole world had found her person, the one who was going to be there to hold her hand through life and love her through every up and every down. You had even shed a few happy tears when Katie had confided in you this past weekend that she and Josh were finally trying for a baby.

You weren’t jealous, but you desperately longed for what she had. While Katie and Josh had been happily in love since sophomore year, your love life had been decidedly marked by one failed relationship after another. The most painful of which had been your last boyfriend, Andrew. That breakup had been what had propelled you to accept the job offer that had taken you to San Diego almost a year ago.

“Screw Andrew!” Katie had told you as she’d helped you pack up your entire life into a few suitcases and boxes. “You’re headed to the Hottie Capital of America!”

“I must have missed that moniker on the travel brochures,” you responded dryly, although it was the first time you’d felt the urge to laugh in weeks.

“Um, hello, missy. It’s literally called ‘Fightertown USA,’” Katie said, stopping what she was doing to turn and face you, hands on her hips. “You’re going to end up with some sexy fighter pilot, and I am literally going to wither away with envy,” she giggled, winking at you.

“Yeah, right,” you smiled despite yourself, nudging her playfully.

“It’s true,” Katie sighed, feigning dramatics as she draped a hand across her forehead and swooned onto your bed. “I can see it now. You’re going to make the cutest little Marine or Navy wife.”

And yet, for all of Katie’s confidence, there you were, a whole year later, just as single as you had been when you’d first arrived in Fightertown.

It wasn’t to say you were completely on your own. You’d made some really good friends at work, and you got along with all of your neighbors. You’d even gone on a few dates with some guys from North Island. But none that ever went anywhere.

Spending the weekend with Katie and Josh, being reminded of just how in love the two of them were, made you wonder if it was ever going to be your turn.

“You okay?” Katie asked, breaking your silent reverie as she took the exit leading towards the airport in Charlottesville. It wasn’t necessarily the closest airport, but it was the only one for today that offered the flight you needed to get back home. “You seem so quiet.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you nodded distractedly, smiling as you took another sip of your iced coffee. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

How could you possibly tell your best friend that seeing her happiness caused an ache inside your chest that hurt like nothing else you’d ever known? You couldn’t. It made you feel guilty enough just to admit it to yourself.

“Feeling a little nervous about your flight?” she pressed, reaching for her own iced coffee as the car came to a halt at a red light. “I know it’s long, and you hate connecting flights, but I stuck some Benadryl packets in your bag, if that helps at all. It sucks that you have such a hard time sleeping on planes.”

Smiling, you leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. What had you ever done to deserve such a good friend? And there you were, lamenting about all the things she had that you didn’t.

“You’re the best,” you told her sincerely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m so glad I was able to get down here this weekend.”

Katie beamed brightly, reaching up to squeeze your hand before placing hers back on the steering wheel. “You’re telling me. It was the best surprise ever. I’m just sad I can’t keep you here longer.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised, trying to mentally calculate when you might be able to get time off from work again.

“Maybe you can come down for Christmas this year?” Katie suggested hopefully, glancing over at you with her big green eyes.

“Maybe,” you nodded, twisting your bracelet once more as you saw the signs for the airport approaching. “Or maybe I can fly you and Josh out to San Diego.”

“Oh, yes! Christmas on the beach? Sounds perfect,” Katie grinned, looking out for the sign for departing flights.

All too soon, Katie was pulling up in front of the Delta terminal where your flight would be taking off in just a few hours.

“See? Only 7:11! I got you here ahead of your insane schedule, even with the stop for coffee,” your best friend teased, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated the time on the dashboard.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, laughing out loud as she swatted your hand jokingly.

The two of you climbed out of the car to grab your luggage from the trunk. You’d done your best to pack lightly, which was never an easy task for you, even just for a weekend trip. But somehow, you’d managed to squeeze everything you needed into a carry-on bag. Well, that and a giant duffel that you were claiming was a purse.

“Ugh, goodbyes make me crazy,” Katie shook her head, clearly trying to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes, which caused tears to spring to your eyes as the two of you reached for each other.

“I love you so much,” you told her, squeezing her tightly as she rocked you back and forth in her arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Text me when you get to your gate,” she said, pulling back and taking your hands in hers. “And let me know if there are any cuties on your flight,” she added with a grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I doubt I’m going to bag any cuties looking like this,” you countered sarcastically, indicating the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt you’d donned that morning, as well as the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous no matter what,” Katie scolded you, swatting you on the butt. “Now get going. We wouldn’t want you being late or anything like that,” she joked.

You laughed as well, though your heart ached a bit as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began turning towards the doors of the terminal.

“Love you! Talk to you soon!” Katie called out, waving and blowing kisses.

You threw one more wave your best friend’s way, then disappeared inside the terminal, which was already fairly crowded despite the early hour.

As expected, despite the fact that you’d taken pains to get there early and make sure you were on top of everything, the unlucky cloud that seemed to follow you whenever you flew made its appearance once again.

You of course ended up on the slowest moving line at security, only to be heavily questioned by the TSA agent who seemed to be under the impression that you looked nothing like the photo on your driver’s license. Then, when you finally got to the security scanners, you set off the metal detector and had to be publicly groped by another sour-faced TSA agent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your suitcase was “randomly selected” for extra testing and security checks.

Katie may have loved to tease you about it, but this was precisely the reason why you always left as early as you did to get to the airport.

By the time you were finally rolling your suitcase towards your gate, you were feeling more frazzled than ever. Naturally, the gate had changed since your boarding pass had been printed, and now you had to trek halfway across the airport to find the new one.

You wondered what it felt like to be one of those lucky travelers whose gate was right at the center of the terminal, right near all the restaurants and shops. It had never been you. Without fail, no matter where or when you were flying, your gate always ended up being at the farthest corner of the terminal.

When you finally arrived, triple checking that the gate number matched your flight information, you let out a heavy sigh as you grabbed an open seat at the end of the row. To your surprise, you found that you were seated right next to an open outlet. You never got that lucky.

Turns out, you really did never get that lucky. When you plugged your phone in, you found that it wasn’t charging. Evidently, the outlet was open because it didn’t actually work.

Muttering under your breath, you unplugged your charger and threw it back into your duffel bag. At least your phone was still on 74%. You’d much prefer to have it fully charged, but this would do until you could charge it on the plane.

Glancing down, you realized that you had missed a text from Katie.

At the gate yet???

Rolling your shoulders back and getting more comfortable in your seat, you opened up the message so that you could send a quick response.

Just got here. You’d think I was on the No Fly List with how long it took me to get here.

Katie must have made good time getting home, because it wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing with another text.

😂😂😂 Get yourself a drink!

Katie, it’s not even 9am…

So? A mimosa then!

You laughed, shaking your head. A mimosa didn’t actually sound like such a bad idea right now. Neither did a large iced coffee. But now that you’d finally made it to your gate, you didn’t feel like dragging all your stuff with you across the terminal once again. And you didn’t feel comfortable leaving your things behind, unattended or even in the care of a stranger. Maybe you’d just order one on the plane.

When your phone buzzed again in your lap, you looked down and saw that it was another text from Katie.

Any cuties to share that mimosa with???

You were about to text her back that right now, the only cuties you could see were an adorable four-year-old and an elderly couple who must have been in their eighties when suddenly, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life appeared, as if out of thin air. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have a mimosa or an iced coffee in hand, for you were certain that you would have spit it out in shock upon seeing this guy.

Jaw hanging open and eyes widening, your brain was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remind you that it was wholly inappropriate and rude to stare.

He truly had to be the hottest man you had ever seen up close in real life. Tall, with broad, thick shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was a golden brown that looked like it was touched frequently by the sun—as did his skin, which was an amusing combination of both tan and pink, as though he should have applied just a pinch more sunscreen than he had. Most surprising of all was the mustache that made your stomach do a strange little flip. You usually weren’t all that attracted to facial hair of any sort, and most guys couldn’t pull off the mustaches they tried to sport, but this particular mustache was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. And somehow, despite not knowing this man from a hole in the wall, you couldn’t imagine him without it. It was like it was a part of his DNA.

Thankfully, he was still staring down at his boarding pass, so he hadn’t noticed your intense scrutiny. Coming to your senses, you closed your mouth and quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. How mortifying. Imagine if he had looked over and caught you staring at him, gaping like a fish out of water?

Still, despite your self-consciousness at the thought of getting caught, you couldn’t help but steal another glance in his direction, this time out of the corner of your eye. He looked even taller this time around. It probably had something to do with the way he carried himself, an easy confidence pouring off him. This man knew he was hot stuff, of that you were sure. But there was also something unassuming about him, something quiet and almost humble. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old UVA T-shirt, nothing fancy or flashy. Somehow, however, he managed to pull it off even better than a three-piece suit.

You were startled out of your observations when your phone buzzed again. It was Katie, emphasizing her last message impatiently.

Do you have some kind of magic powers that I was unaware of to make hotties appear out of nowhere? Right when you texted me, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen walked up to my gate.

‼️‼️ GO TALK TO HIM!!! ‼️‼️

At the mere suggestion of going to talk to that guy, your stomach erupted into butterflies. Looking up once again, you saw that he had evidently confirmed he was at the right gate, and had settled down in a seat a couple rows over, facing away from you. God, even the back of his head was handsome.

Are you crazy? This guy is seriously the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I look like a homeless lady that wandered in off the street. I am NOT talking to him!

Your phone buzzed angrily a moment later.

Will you shut up before I drive back there to hit you upside the head?! YOU are gorgeous!!! Who cares if you have no make-up on and your hair’s in a messy bun? It’s called airplane chic! You’re still completely stunning. He would be LUCKY to have a girl as hot as you want to talk to him!

Chewing your bottom lip, you looked up again, trying not to be obvious as your eyes slowly wandered over the people at your gate, until they landed on him once more. He was on the phone this time, having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Occasionally, he would turn slightly in your direction and you could catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Damn, this man was seriously perfect from every angle.

“Alright, Mav, I’ll see you when I land,” you heard him say—not that you were trying to eavesdrop—before he hung up the phone and dropped it back onto his lap.

It was then that you noticed his phone was plugged into the outlet next to his seat.

Maybe this could be your opportunity? You could casually walk over and see if there were any other open outlets near his. Perhaps you could even make a joke about how it was just your luck that the outlet near your seat wasn’t working. Maybe he’d laugh and tell you some horror story from his travel experiences and the two of you would end up talking until you exchanged numbers. Maybe there was some tiny, infinitesimal chance that this stunning man would actually be charmed by you and possibly even the teensiest bit interested.

Or maybe you would just remain rooted to your seat, terrified to move as you stared at the back of his head.

You were already anticipating the text from Katie when your phone buzzed once again.

The reason you’re not answering me better be because you’re in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Hottie from your gate!!!

Biting down on your lip, you turned your phone over, not knowing how to tell your best friend that you were too much of a chicken to get out of your seat and approach this guy.

At that moment, however, you were suddenly saved, at least somewhat, when a member of the flight crew announced that they were about to begin boarding. Forgetting about Katie’s texts and the hot guy sitting several feet away from you for a moment, you began gathering together all your belongings, making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

When your boarding group was called, you did one final sweep around your seat, securing the strap of your duffel bag up on your shoulder and wrapping one hand around the handle of your carry-on before making your way to the line extending from the counter.

As you stepped up behind the elderly couple you’d noticed earlier, your boarding pass slipped out of your hand, floating through the air despite your best attempt to reach for it, and landing somewhere behind you.

Turning to find it, you nearly collided with the tall wall of man behind you, who was bending at the same time to grab it off the floor.

“Oh!” you gasped, startled to find that Mr. Hottie, as Katie had dubbed him, was not only standing behind you in line, but was also holding your boarding pass in his hand, glancing down at it.

“San Diego with a layover in Atlanta, huh?” he grinned, glancing from the boarding pass up to your face. Unsurprisingly, he had a beautiful set of whiskey-colored eyes that made your stomach do the same strange little flip that his mustache had induced. Oh, and up close, the mustache was even sexier.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded dumbly, your tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds as your brain short-circuited and couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile thing to say.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Mr. Hottie went on, holding your boarding pass out to you. “Looks like we’ve got a long day of flying ahead of us.”

Mouth hanging open, you slowly reached out and took the boarding pass from him, trying frantically to think of something—anything—to say. He was flying to San Diego, too? You were on the same exact flight? Including the same layover?

“I—I—”

“Hey, the line's moving!” someone from the back called out, sounding annoyed.

Turning back over your shoulder, you were mortified to see that the elderly couple in front of you had disappeared and you were, in fact, holding up the line.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, ducking your head as you clutched your boarding pass and reached out for your carry-on. “Thanks again for grabbing this for me,” you told Mr. Hottie, waving your boarding pass slightly before turning and practically running towards the counter.

With his long stride, he caught up to you in no time, his smile friendly and warm as the two of you joined the line of people waiting to board the airplane.

“You weren’t holding anyone up,” he whispered down to you, as if it was some special secret the two of you were sharing. “I don’t know what that guy was in such a rush for. To move from that line to this one? We’re all getting out of here at the same time.”

You smiled at his words, feeling comforted by his reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some people are just always in a hurry.”

The two of you were quiet after that, and you wondered if that would be the end of the conversation. You were casting around for anything else you could talk about when he suddenly asked you, “So are you leaving home or heading home?”

Your heart fluttered at his question. If he didn’t want to keep talking, he wouldn’t have asked that, right?

“Heading home,” you told him, fiddling shyly with your bracelet. You laughed softly. “It’s still kind of weird saying that. I’ve only been in San Diego for about eleven months.”

He raised his eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Yeah? Well, I know I’m a little late, but welcome to Fightertown. I hope it’s been treating you well.”

“Oh, it has been,” you nodded, making sure to pay attention to when the people in front of you began moving forward. “I take it you’re heading home then, too?”

“I am,” he grinned, shouldering the backpack he was carrying with him. “Well, actually, I’m kind of leaving home and heading home,” he amended. At your curious look, he explained, “I’m from Virginia originally, but I live in San Diego now. I guess you could say I’m a transplant, just like you,” he added with a chuckle. “Are you from Virginia, too?”

“New York, actually,” you told him, as the two of you followed the flow of people towards the plane. “But my best friend and her husband moved to Fredericksburg recently, so I was spending the weekend with them.”

“Ah, that’s a nice area,” he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at you with a smile. At your unspoken question, he said, “I was actually down for a reunion weekend at my school. I went to UVA.”

“I gathered,” you replied teasingly, indicating his T-shirt.

Glancing downward, he shook his head and laughed. “Almost forgot I threw this on when I woke up. Trying to get to the airport on time is a real pain, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a laugh, adjusting your hold on your duffel bag. “Flying is definitely one of my least favorite modes of transportation.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said in reply, an amused look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was so funny, however, you were being welcomed aboard the plane by the stewardesses, who were all smiling and indicating that they expected you to keep moving down the aisle.

Your heart dropped slightly at the abrupt end to your conversation. Now the two of you were going to go to your separate seats, and he’d probably forget all about you. It was one thing to make idle conversation with a stranger while on line, but you doubted he had any real interest in continuing the conversation beyond that.

Sighing softly, you rolled your suitcase down the aisle, pausing every now and then as the people in front of you put their bags in the overhead bins and got themselves sorted. When you finally reached Row 22, you stopped and looked back at Mr. Hottie with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, this is me. I’ll just be a minute,” you told him, pushing down the handle of your carry-on.

“No worries, this is me,” he grinned, indicating Row 21. “I even snagged the window seat,” he added with a wink.

Your mouth went dry. He had the window seat of Row 21. You had the window seat of Row 22. He was sitting directly in front of you.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for your carry-on bag and easily hefting it above his head, sliding it into the overhead bin for you. “Do you need me to put this one up there, too?” he asked, pointing towards your duffel bag.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shook your head, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I’m going to keep this one with me. Thanks a lot,” you smiled, not even noticing the line of disgruntled people that was beginning to form behind the two of you.

“No problem,” he smiled, starting to slide into his row with his backpack still on his back. “Have a great flight.”

“You, too,” you replied, a little sadly, as you crawled into your row, doing your best to ignore the annoyed looks some people were throwing your way.

Needless to say, it was just your luck that the impatient man from the boarding line ended up sitting right beside you. You tried to smile at him, but he just grunted and put his headphones on, completely ignoring you.

Fine by you. Pulling your phone out, you found that you had a whole new series of texts from Katie, demanding to know exactly what was happening.

On the plane now. We should be taking off soon. I talked a little bit to Mr. Hottie. Are you happy?

It didn’t take long at all for her to respond. You could imagine that she had been sitting by her phone, waiting eagerly for your message.

Eeeee, yes, very! What did you guys talk about? Are you sitting near each other on the plane? Did you exchange numbers??? Send me a picture!!!

You laughed softly to yourself as you tried your best to answer all the questions your excited friend had asked you.

Just small talk. He’s actually flying home to San Diego, too. He went to UVA and was there for a reunion weekend. We did not exchange numbers and I’m not going to be a creepy stalker and take a picture of him, but he actually is sitting in the seat right in front of me.

OMG, IT’S FATE!!! So he has the same layover and everything??? And he’s FROM San Diego?! Babe, this is the guy for you!!! You’ve got to keep talking to him!

How would you suggest I do that? Just tap him on the shoulder and whisper into his ear the whole time?

It’s only a couple hours to Atlanta, and then you’ll have the layover, and then another four and half hours to San Diego. You could practically be engaged by the time you land! Just slip him a little note or something. Give him your number!

Your stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought. Between the two of you, Katie had always been the more outgoing one. She would have no problem slipping a note with her phone number on it to a complete stranger, putting herself out there for the possibility of rejection and utter humiliation. You, on the other hand, preferred to play it safe. It was much more comfortable that way. And sure, maybe you’d never met your Josh the way Katie had, but at least you’d never been hurt too badly, right?

Unbidden, you thought of Andrew and felt bile rise in your throat.

Luckily, you were saved from having to answer Katie right away when the cabin crew made the announcement that it was time to shut down all electronics. Switching your phone onto airplane mode, you slipped it into the front pocket of your duffel bag and took a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes.

Takeoff was your least favorite part of any flight. When you were a little girl, your parents used to make funny faces and sing silly songs to distract you from your terror. Even now as an adult who was flying all on her own, you still tried to remember the sound of their voices as the plane began its ascent.

It didn’t take too long before you were finally cruising at 18,000 feet and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Since you were a Delta SkyMiles member, you got free Wi-Fi on all your flights, so you immediately reached to turn your phone back on to let Katie know you had taken off safely.

As soon as your phone connected with the Wi-Fi, it was instantly flooded with a slew of text messages. A couple were from some of your friends back in San Diego, wishing you a safe and easy flight, but most were from your crazy best friend.

Don’t think you can use being on a plane as an excuse not to answer my texts!

I know you’re a SkyMiles member and you can see these messages!

You better answer me!!!

Shaking your head, you quickly tapped out a quick message in response.

Took off safely. Thinking of watching a movie before we land in Atlanta. You’re crazy and I am not slipping him a note.

Your phone was blessedly quiet for the next several minutes, and part of you hoped that Katie had given up this ridiculous notion. Knowing her as long as you had, however, you should have figured that wouldn’t be the case.

What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t answer you? The two of you never talk again? You’ve never seen this guy before in your life, and the chances are good that you’ll never see him again after this. So if you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out, who cares? At least you tried. And sure, it might be a little embarrassing at first, but like I said, you’ll never have to see him again. But what if you thought about it the other way around? What if it DOES work out? What if this could be the start of something great? Would you really just want to walk away, wondering what could have been and regretting that you didn’t take a chance? You deserve to be loved so, so, SO much! And I know that you have so much love to give! This guy would be lucky if you chose him. Just give it a try, will you? For me? Please! You can’t see it, but I’m giving my best puppy dog face right now. And sending you all the best vibes! You can do this! I love you! ♥️

You groaned at your best friend’s heartfelt message. How could you possibly say no to that? You knew Katie just wanted the best for you, and she wanted you to be happy. You wanted to be happy, too. What if she was right? What if this was your chance? Would you be a fool to just walk away from it without even trying? Like Katie said, at least if you tried, you could say you’d done all you could. And if it didn’t work, then Mr. Hottie just wasn’t the one for you. No harm, no foul.

You were starting to feel like you might need to make use of the vomit bag tucked securely in the seat pocket in front of you when the stewardess stopped at your row to offer you all snacks and beverages. You gratefully accepted a can of ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to settle your roiling stomach.

You were being an idiot. There was no reason to be so dramatic about all this. You could write a quick note and pass it up to him, then pretend it had never happened. Seriously, what was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to get up and make an announcement over the loudspeaker that the girl sitting in 22A was a pathetic, lonely loser? You doubted that very much.

Before you could lose your nerve, you reached into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulled out the pen you always kept there. Turns out, it really did come in handy. Mercifully, the grumpy man beside you was already snoring, so you could write your note in peace without being worried about him seeing what you were doing.

Hand shaking slightly, you penned a quick letter to the handsome, charming man in 21A.

Hi there. I realized in all our talking that I never caught your name. But it might be good to know, seeing how we’re layover buddies and all. Hope you’re enjoying the flight so far.

You signed your name at the bottom, and then took a deep breath, reading over what you had written on the back of your Delta napkin. It sounded impossibly stupid, but you’d come this far and you weren’t going to turn back now. What was it that people on the internet were always saying? Something about shooting your shot?

Breathing through your nose to avoid getting sick, you reached out a trembling finger and lightly tapped the broad shoulder that you saw peeking out from the seat in front of you. You suddenly realized that he may have been asleep and panicked at the thought of waking him up, but he shifted immediately at your touch and you could tell that he was turning towards you.

Not wanting to meet his eye, you immediately thrust your napkin into the small open space between your seats and the windows, silently praying that he would take it from you instead of laughing in your face.

A second later, you felt his large fingers brush against yours as he took your little note, shifting in his seat once more so that he was facing front again.

What had you just done? Oh, God, there was still another hour left to go on this flight, then a layover, and another four and half hours to San Diego. True, you would never have to see him again after you landed in California, but that was still a lot of time left to have to be in proximity to him if all of this blew up in your face.

You were just about ready to launch yourself out of one of the emergency exits when you suddenly looked up and realized that there was a small white napkin hovering above your head.

Mr. Hottie in 21A was reaching back with your note in hand. Your stomach plummeted and your face and neck grew warm with shame at the thought of him returning the letter you’d written him, until you noticed the red ink on the back of it. 

You’d written your note in black ink.

Slowly reaching out, you took the napkin from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other once more. His were large and warm and calloused and made goosebumps rise on your arm.

Pulse beating rapidly, you turned over the napkin to see the response he had written on the back. His handwriting was a bit messy, more of a scrawl than anything, but it made you smile to look at it.

What was I thinking, not properly introducing myself to my layover buddy? Hope you can forgive me. My name is Bradley. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got some Wi-Fi on this flight, do you? If you do, feel free to text me. We seem to be dangerously low on napkins.

At the bottom, he’d written his cell phone number.

Pressing a hand over your mouth, it took everything in you to swallow back the squeal of delight that rose up your throat. It worked! Katie’s silly plan had actually worked! Oh, she was going to gloat about this forever when you told her.

Beaming brightly, you pulled out your cell phone. As much as you loved her, Katie could wait right now. You had an extremely gorgeous layover buddy to get in touch with.

Typing his number into your cell phone, you opened up a new message and contemplated what to say for a moment.

Layover buddies who both just so happen to have some inflight Wi-Fi? Clearly it’s meant to be.

You hoped the message came across as cute and flirty instead of desperate and weird as you hit send, anxiously waiting to see if he would reply.

It took only a moment before your phone buzzed, Bradley’s name lighting up your screen.

Layover buddies who both just so happen have some inflight Wi-Fi AND spring for the window seats? Obviously it’s meant to be!

You smiled and were about to think up a reply when another message suddenly came though.

Oh, and to answer your note—I’m enjoying the flight a lot more now.

The butterflies went crazy in your stomach as you wrote back to him.

Me, too. And that’s saying a lot, considering the four-year-old behind me hasn’t stopped kicking my seat since we boarded.

Bradley only took seconds to reply.

Oof, that’s rough. If I could switch seats with you, I would. But I have to admit that I’m very happy that you’re not kicking my seat.

Wouldn’t be too sure about that, you sent back teasingly before lightly nudging his seat with your foot.

Hey! I thought we were friends!

We’ll see 😉

You and Bradley went back and forth like that for the entire remainder of your flight to Atlanta, the banter light and easy as you teased and joked with each other. You even ended up playing a game of 20 Questions, in which you learned, among other things, that Bradley’s favorite color was red, he once broke his arm when he was seven years old, and he absolutely despised peas.

As the captain announced that you would soon begin preparing for your final descent, you shot off a quick message to Katie, who you had woefully neglected during your conversation with Bradley.

I owe you one. The pep talk and the plan actually worked—I’m texting Mr. Hottie as we speak! Update you soon. We’re about to land in Atlanta.

Just as you sent the message off to your friend, another text from Bradley arrived.

Looks like we’re going to have to turn off our phones, layover buddy. I’ll see you when we land. Food? I’m starving.

Grinning, you had to pinch yourself to check that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate dream.

Same. I’ll race you for some french fries.

You’re on.

When the plane finally landed and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, everyone practically jumped out of their seats in a mad dash to see who could be the first to get their belongings out of the overhead bins. Since you and Bradley were in the window seats, you took your time, knowing you weren’t getting off the plane anytime soon.

You were surprised, however, when he suddenly popped his head over the back of his seat, grinning down at you. “Good thing our next flight doesn’t leave for a couple hours yet,” he said, indicating the crowd with a good-natured grin that made your heart melt.

You had almost been starting to think you’d exaggerated just how good-looking he was, but nope. He really was that hot.

“Plenty of time to grab those fries,” you laughed, smiling up at him.

When you and Bradley were finally able to step out into the aisle, he opened the bin above your head and reached for your suitcase.

“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, lowering it to the ground and lifting the handle so that he could wheel it up the aisle.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insisted, not wanting him to think that you expected him to carry your things for you.

“Hey, what are layover buddies for?” he winked, leading the way off the plane.

Once the two of you were standing face to face in the middle of the airport terminal, you began to feel a little shy and self-conscious again. It had been easy to talk to Bradley via text, but now that you were gazing up at his handsome face again, you suddenly found yourself getting just as tongue-tied as before.

Bradley seemed to sense your nerves because he smiled warmly at you, his demeanor just as open and friendly as it had been the entire time you’d known him.

“How about we hunt down those fries?” he suggested, waiting until you smiled and nodded before turning and guiding you towards the main concourse.

The two of you ended up finding a quick and easy little fast food counter, where you ordered a couple burgers, a large order of fries, and some vanilla milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries. As soon as it became clear that Bradley was going to pay for both your meals, you tried to argue and insist on paying your share, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“My mom raised a gentleman, and she would kill me if she thought I was even thinking of letting my layover buddy pay for her lunch,” he told you, winking playfully as he handed his credit card to the employee behind the counter.

You took your suitcase from Bradley as he balanced the tray with your food in his hands, leading you to an empty table towards the end of the concourse.

“Your mom must be very proud of you, I’m sure,” you grinned, reaching eagerly for a fry and popping it into your mouth. “Did you get to see her while you were in Virginia?”

Bradley smiled, though his eyes suddenly looked a little sad. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

Deciding not to press the matter, you instead turned the attention to his college reunion. That led to the two of you happily swapping stories about your time in college, which landed you on the subject of what you do now.

“A naval aviator? Really? And a TOPGUN graduate? That’s very impressive,” you gushed, mentally picturing him in a flight suit. You’d gone on a couple dates with some naval aviators from North Island, but none as handsome or as charming as Bradley. You suddenly groaned and covered your face with your hand when you remembered what you’d said to him right before boarding the plane. “So that’s what you meant when I was saying that flying isn’t my favorite mode of transportation,” you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.

Bradley threw his head back and laughed at that, looking genuinely amused. “Hey, I get it. Flying isn’t for everybody. Trust me, some days I wish I had just opted for a desk job,” he grinned, his muscles flexing as he stretched in his seat. “But there’s nothing quite like it, when you’re the one doing the flying. Maybe one day I can take you up in the air and change your mind.”

He looked across the table at you and held your gaze, and you felt sure in that moment that you would have promised him anything he asked.

“So what’s your call sign then?” you asked with a smile, resting your cheek in your hand as you looked into his eyes.

“Oh, you know about that, huh?” he chuckled, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well, uh, they call me Rooster.”

You had a feeling he expected you to laugh—maybe other girls in the past had—but you just grinned brightly in response. “I like it,” you said simply. “It suits you.”

He let out a small breath and smiled in return. “Thank you. My dad’s call sign was Goose. So I guess it runs in the family.”

“Your dad is in the Navy, too?” you asked curiously, lifting your milkshake and taking a sip.

Bradley cleared his throat slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was. He died in a training accident at TOPGUN when I was two.”

You sucked in a breath at your own carelessness and looked across at Bradley with empathy glowing in your eyes. “Oh, Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching out and resting a hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied gently, a small smile on his face as he placed his other hand over yours. “But thank you.” He was quiet for a moment before he went on. “It was just me and my mom for a while, back home in Virginia. But she got sick when I was in high school, and she passed away my senior year.”

“Bradley,” you breathed out sadly, your heart breaking for him. You winced when you thought of what he’d said before, about seeing his mom while he was in Virginia.

“She and my dad are buried in my hometown, where I grew up. I go to see them at the cemetery whenever I’m back in town,” he explained, as if reading your thoughts.

“I’m sure that means a lot to them, and that they’re smiling down on you always,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiled up at you, the sadness in his expression lifting slightly. “I like to think so. I think they’d like you a lot,” he added, then looked away. He suddenly seemed embarrassed.

The two of you sat back, disentangling your hands as you sat in mildly awkward silence for a moment or two.

“What about your parents?” Bradley asked, clearly looking for a way to change the subject. “Do they still live in New York?”

It was your turn to look sad now. “Well, we actually have a lot in common, Bradley. Only I guess my story is sort of in reverse. My mom passed away when I was six years old. She got in a car accident on her way home from work. And my dad passed when I was a freshman in college. Lung cancer.”

“Shit,” Bradley muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You couldn’t have known. And it feels kind of nice talking about it with someone who I know understands. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his expression serious as his dark eyes rested on your face. “Yeah, I do.”

You and Bradley sat in companionable silence as you finished your meals, then checked to see how much time you had before your connecting flight.

“I guess we should start making our way over to the gate,” you suggested, glancing at the time on your phone. You had about ten text messages from Katie, but you were too embarrassed to open them anywhere near Bradley.

Bradley nodded in agreement, wordlessly taking the handle of your suitcase and leading you back across the concourse.

“Hey, we got so distracted talking about my job that I never even asked what you do,” he suddenly realized once the two of you were seated at your gate, both your phones charging in a nearby outlet.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear. “Funny enough, I actually work for the Midway Museum,” you told him, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already gazing down at you.

“No way! Guess we’re both stuck aboard aircraft carriers for work then,” he chuckled. “What do you do?”

“Well, my official title is digital content specialist,” you said, biting down on your lower lip. You felt like it always sounded a bit pretentious. “Basically, I help run the museum’s digital accounts—social media, their website, email blasts, things like that. My degree is in marketing and communications, so that’s basically what I do.”

“That’s amazing,” Bradley said, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it. Some guys just pretended to be interested in your job as a pretense for trying to get into your pants, but you could tell that Bradley actually cared about what you had to say. He was actually listening. “Is that what brought you out to San Diego?”

“It is, actually. I had been applying to a few different places, and when I got word from the Midway that they were interested in hiring me, I thought that maybe it was the fresh start I needed,” you confessed.

“Has it been?” Bradley asked quietly.

“I think so,” you nodded slowly, absent-mindedly twisting your bracelet around your wrist. “It’s hard sometimes, being so far away from my best friend, Katie—the one I was visiting. She’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left. But I like the life that I’m building in San Diego.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley smiled, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was about to say more when the flight crew called your boarding group.

“Looks like we’re going to be sitting near each other again, 21A,” you teased, glancing down at his boarding pass as the two of you rose and grabbed your phones.

“Glad to hear it, 22A,” he joked in return, holding up his phone and waving it back and forth. “And now my phone is fully charged for our trip back to San Diego, so let the texting commence.”

Giggling, you nodded as the two of you walked down the rampway side by side and made your way onto the plane and to your seats without incident. When you got there, however, you saw that there had been some confusion with a young family that looked to have four children under the age of eight. It seemed as though their tickets had gotten split up so that they weren’t all sitting next to each other, and the mother was frantic.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Bradley asked, quickly taking stock of the situation. When the woman looked up at him, clearly stressed out and worried he was going to yell at her, he smiled comfortingly. “I was just going to say that, if you’d like, you can have my seat. I’d be happy to take yours since it looks like it’s next to my friend here anyway. That way, we can all be comfortable and sit with the people we want to sit with.”

“Oh, thank you!” the young mother exclaimed, looking ready to hug Bradley. “Thank you!”

She and her husband quickly got their children settled, thanking Bradley a few more times for good measure, while he took your carry-on and set it in the overhead bin.

Once you had settled in your window seat, Bradley took the seat beside you, grinning impishly.

“Look at that. Now we don’t even need to waste the Wi-Fi,” he murmured, nudging you playfully.

“Things just have a way of working out for us today, don’t they?” you laughed, settling your duffel bag at your feet. “I’m just going to send a quick message to Katie, to let her know I made it onto my connecting flight,” you told him, reaching for your phone and quickly opening Katie’s messages so that Bradley wouldn’t see them.

“Good idea, I should text Mav,” Bradley said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. At your confused look, he explained, “My godfather. He’s also in the Navy, and he also just so happens to be stationed out in San Diego. He’s going to pick me up at the airport.”

Nodding, you sent a brief text to your best friend, promising you would call her as soon as you got home, then settled in for the flight and tried to get as comfortable as possible.

As soon as you felt the plane jolt to life and begin taxing towards the runway, your chest grew tight and your grip on yours and Bradley’s shared armrest started to turn your knuckles white.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, genuine concern in his voice as he glanced over and noticed how on edge you suddenly appeared. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead on the screen in front of you, which was currently playing some Delta commercial that your brain could scarcely register.

“I think your death grip on our armrest would suggest otherwise,” he pressed gently, his tone remaining light and good-humored. “You trying to take that thing with you?”

Startled, your nervous trance was broken and you glanced down to see what Bradley was talking about. Sure enough, your nails were digging into the armrest so intensely that you wouldn’t have been surprised if they left little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

Letting out a shaky laugh, you looked up at the man beside you ruefully. “Okay, truth be told, I get a little anxious during takeoff,” you confessed, biting your lip in embarrassment. He would probably think that was silly. He was a fighter pilot, after all. His day job involved flying multi-million dollar aircrafts for the military. And here you were, acting like a scaredy cat over a commercial Delta flight.

Bradley’s eyes crinkled in a way that you found devastatingly charming as he smiled over at you. The look on his face was kind, without a single trace of mocking humor.

“Want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in closer to you so that his nose was nearly pressed against your cheek and you could feel his breath on your skin. “So do I.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoffed, shooting him a skeptical look. He was probably just trying to be nice. “But you’re a naval aviator!”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one flying this plane, am I?” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “It’s hard to put the reins in someone else’s hands. So I understand being nervous. Hell, I still get a little nervous sometimes when I’m flying an F-18. Just don’t tell anyone I said that,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Oh, of course not,” you giggled, smiling over at him. Glancing out the window, you realized that his conversation had distracted you so much, you hadn’t even noticed that the plane had finished its approach towards the runway and was officially waiting for takeoff.

Some of your nerves returned, and you gripped the armrest once more, but this time, you felt Bradley’s large, yet gentle fingers close over yours. Surprised, you turned your head sharply and instantly met his gaze. It was direct and disconcertingly open as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured you in a low voice, squeezing your fingers comfortingly. “We’re going to be okay.”

“My parents used to sing to me during takeoff,” you found yourself blurting out suddenly, your cheeks growing warm at the admission. “I can remember my mom doing it when I was a little girl, and my dad used to do it for me even when I was in high school,” you explained shyly, lowering your eyes to your lap.

At that moment, your stomach dropped as the plane suddenly began hurtling forward, seeking enough momentum to become airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the sound of your parents’ voices in order to calm your racing heart. But a new voice suddenly entered the mix as you felt your newfound flying buddy lean across the armrest, his warm body pressing against your side as he sang quietly in your ear.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…”

Wait a second. You knew that song. Where did you know that song from?

“Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill…”

Yes, you definitely knew that song. It was on one of the records your parents used to play when you were a little girl. Was it Jerry Lee Lewis?

Gasping in recognition, you whisper-sang the next lyric in harmony with Bradley—“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

He laughed in delight when you began singing along, squeezing your hand with an affectionate grin. “And would you look at that,” he said, nodding towards the window. “We’re airborne. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Shocked, you followed his line of vision and were taken aback to see that you were already ascending into the clouds, leaving the city of Atlanta far behind. That had been one of the smoothest takeoff experiences you’d had in—well, you couldn’t even remember how long.

“I barely even noticed!” you exclaimed, focusing your attention back on Bradley. You smiled gratefully, your heart melting at the adorable puppy dog look on his face. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You noticed at that moment that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and your pulse began to quicken, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured in response, his voice low and suddenly husky. It did something to you, that deep, raspy voice of his. “Happy to do it.” He squeezed your hand gently once more, then slowly—almost hesitantly—let it go.

“I haven’t heard that song in the longest time,” you told him, resting back against your seat. “My parents used to listen to it.”

Bradley smiled slightly. “It’s the one song I can actually remember my dad singing. He loved to sing and play the piano. My mom had tons of home videos of him doing it. But that song—that song I can actually remember hearing him sing, you know? I was so young when he—well—I can remember that one. And that’s why it’s my favorite to sing and play.”

“You play the piano, too?” you asked, impressed. “Wow, a man of many talents.” You nudged him playfully, a big smile on your face.

“I’ll have to show you what I can do,” Bradley replied, winking.

Your stomach fluttered at the implication that he might actually want to see you again after today.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, ducking your head shyly. You suddenly felt much more aware of everything around you, particularly every inch of your muscular seatmate. Goodness, he really was huge, wasn’t he? Chewing nervously on your bottom lip, you began fidgeting with your bracelet, tugging at it absent-mindedly.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Bradley commented, pointing at it as he watched you twist it back and forth around your wrist. “A gift?” he asked lightly, his tone almost a little too casual.

“Mhm,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you gazed down at it. You could still remember the day you opened it. “My dad bought it for me as a present when I graduated high school. I never take it off.”

“Ah,” Bradley nodded, appearing surprisingly relieved. He was quiet for a moment or two, looking like he was mulling over something. Then he turned towards you and asked, “So, um, is there anybody waiting for you in San Diego? Anyone, uh, special, I mean?” he asked, his cheeks and his ears turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt your own skin grow warm in response. Was Bradley asking if you had a boyfriend? And was he embarrassed about it? Just when you thought this man couldn’t possibly charm you any more than he already had.

“Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Flores. She really appreciates it when I walk her dog on the weekends,” you told him, your lips twitching as you tried to maintain a straight face.

Caught off guard by your response, Bradley let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced down at you, eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure Mrs. Flores will be very happy to see you back again,” he nodded, tapping his fingers on his tray table.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes until you finally glanced up and said, “I had actually just gotten out of a long-term relationship right before I moved to San Diego. It was kind of the catalyst for why I decided to take the job at the Midway Museum.”

“Oh, really?” Bradley asked, eyebrows shooting up. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sighed, twirling your bracelet a few times as you thought back on your last failed relationship. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. You took a deep breath before you elaborated. “Andrew and I were together for four years. For a long time, I really thought he was the one. Katie was convinced that he was going to propose on our trip to Greece. It was a dream vacation for me. I had the whole thing planned out for months and months. And I really started to let myself believe that it was going to happen.”

Bradley sat quietly, watching you carefully as he attentively took in every word you uttered.

“We were in Athens, and I had the whole day planned—all these tours and museums. But Andrew insisted that he was too tired since we had just traveled from Rhodes, and he begged me to let him stay behind at the hotel. Being the idiot that I am, I thought that maybe he wanted to put the finishing touches on his big proposal. So I went on the tours by myself. But the last tour ended early, so I came back to our hotel room a little sooner than expected.”

Your throat began to tighten as the story continued, the pain of what had happened next eclipsed only by your embarrassment that Bradley would soon know how pitifully your last relationship had ended. Why had you brought all this up?

“I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I found Andrew in bed with one of the cocktail waitresses from the hotel bar. And to no one’s surprise, there was no ring and he never had any intention of proposing. So I flew home from Greece minus a boyfriend and with very little remaining of my dignity. Leaving everything behind and starting fresh in San Diego seemed like a really good idea, so when the Midway contacted me, I jumped at the offer. And here I am,” you finished with a self-conscious laugh, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly.

Bradley didn’t say anything at first, just continued to stare at you in a way that had you feeling distinctly exposed. Your fingers immediately went to your bracelet once again, nervously fidgeting and waiting for him to say something.

Reaching out, he placed his hand over yours and stilled your movements gently. “First of all,” he began slowly, looking directly into your eyes. It seemed as though he was peering directly into your soul. “Andrew is a complete and total loser. If he didn’t know what he had in you, then he never deserved you to begin with. It’s his loss, and trust me, he’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life if he has even an ounce of sense.” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, making your legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. “Second of all, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I hope you know that the way that idiot treated you in no way says anything about you. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can see that that guy never deserved you to begin with.”

Feeling bashful, you lowered your head, trying to escape the intensity of Bradley’s dark eyes. It didn’t matter though—you could still feel his gaze.

“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, not wanting him to think you had just unloaded all of this on him for sympathy points.

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted, his voice serious. “You’re a special girl, and you deserve to be with someone who treats you that way.”

Someone like you?

The thought sprang unbidden to your mind, causing you to grow flustered. “Th–thank you,” you stammered, worried for half a second that Bradley could actually read your mind.

You were saved from having to make any further comment in that moment when the stewardess suddenly appeared with the food cart, asking you if you wanted any snacks or beverages.

You opted for a Diet Coke and popcorn, while Bradley took a Sprite and a bag of potato chips.

“What do you say? A little toast to my new flight buddy?” Bradley suggested teasingly, holding his can of soda out towards you.

You couldn’t help but smile, lightly tapping your can against his. “Cheers to us,” you laughed, taking a small sip.

“To us,” Bradley grinned. “You know,” he went on, after taking a gulp of his Sprite, “if you ever want to think about getting your pilot’s license, I’d be happy to have you as my wingman—er, woman.”

You laughed aloud at the notion, shaking your head. “Um, did you already forget about how well I handled takeoff? I’m not so sure anyone would trust me behind the controls of a plane.”

“I could teach you,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows until you laughed again. “Or at the very least, take you up for a little joyride. I’d make sure to keep you safe.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to walk through life with this man, to have him be the one you came home to every day.

To have him be the one to make you feel like the most special girl in the world.

“I would like that,” you confessed, pushing your self-consciousness to the side as you looked into his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”

“So would I,” Bradley replied, his expression earnest.

For the next hour or two, you and Bradley shared some of the snacks you’d packed in your duffel bag and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had never felt so instantly at ease with someone who had been a complete and total stranger just a few hours earlier. The fact that he had been in San Diego all this time, right under your nose, and that it had taken a flight home all the way from Virginia for you two to actually meet felt like more than just a coincidence. It felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

At some point, you must have finally succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen asleep because when the captain announced that you were making your final descent into San Diego International Airport, you were lifting your head off Bradley’s shoulder and blinking in confusion.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned, wiping a hand down his face and rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head. “I never sleep on planes.”

“Well you definitely slept on this one. I’d say you were probably out for at least an hour and a half,” he told you, running a hand through his hair, which made his sunkissed curls stand on end. “I nodded out, too. Guess we both needed it, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so,” you nodded, smiling at him.

By the time you finally deplaned—after Bradley, of course, had insisted on taking down your carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and rolling it through the airport for you—you were growing both eager and anxious with anticipation of what the end of your journey would look like.

You and Bradley technically already had each other’s phone numbers, so should you say something about getting together? Would that seem too brazen? Should you just text him tomorrow and hope that whatever spark had been ignited during your travels today wouldn’t be extinguished by the time you both got home?

All of those thoughts and more were running through your head as you and Bradley took the escalator down to baggage claim and the terminal exit.

“Do you, um, do you have somebody picking you up?” Bradley asked as the two of you stepped off the escalator. He stepped to the side to avoid the flow of the crowd, and you stepped with him. “Mrs. Flores perhaps?” he added with a teasing spark in his eye.

“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I was just planning to call an Uber.”

“No need,” he said, his chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Mav and I will give you a ride home. He should actually be here already,” he mumbled, almost to himself, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his messages.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way,” you hurried to tell him, noticing that Bradley still had his hand on the handle of your suitcase.

“Who says it would be going out of our way?” Bradley retorted with that impossibly charming smile of his. “Unless, of course, you’re more comfortable taking an Uber. I don’t want to make you feel like—”

“No, no, you’re not,” you interrupted, wanting to make it clear to him that you appreciated the offer.

Seemingly at an impasse, the two of you just looked at each other and started laughing.

“I would love a ride, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble,” you told him.

“Never,” Bradley insisted. “Besides, you put up with me all day. I owe you.”

“I could say the same thing,” you grinned, reaching into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulling out your cell phone. “In the meantime, I should text Katie and let her know I landed safely and that you haven’t abducted me or anything,” you teased jokingly.

Too late, you realized your mistake.

“Ah, so you told Katie about me, huh?” Bradley smirked, looking just a tad too pleased with himself. “What did you say?”

“Oh, um, nothing, just that I made a friend while traveling,” you stammered in humiliation, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “I’m just, um, I’m going to step over there while you get your bag.”

“Sure, sure,” he laughed, winking at you as he hurried over to the baggage carousel to search for his suitcase.

“Oh my God, how stupid are you?” you muttered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for your careless words as you sent off a quick message to your best friend to let her know you were alive.

A moment later, she texted you back.

YOU BETTER CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU GET HOME!!! I WANT EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL!!!

Smiling, you dropped your phone back into your bag and looked up to see Bradley walking towards you, his suitcase in hand.

“Ready to head out?” he asked with a smile, watching as you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and did one quick scan to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything.

“Ready,” you nodded, following him outside to where a slew of Ubers and other cars were waiting to pick up their passengers.

“There’s Mav,” Bradley told you, pointing with his free hand towards the end of the pick-up line, where a handsome older man with dark hair and an easy smile was waving at you.

“Your godfather drives a Porsche?” you asked, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head at the sight of the vintage car. It was in pristine condition and you were certain it must have cost a small fortune.

“Technically, it’s his fiancée, Penny’s car, but she lets him drive it when he’s been good,” Bradley joked, resting a gentle hand on your back as he guided you through the crowd.

Bradley was quick to embrace his godfather when the two of you finally reached the Porsche, slapping him on the back before stepping back and holding out a hand to you. “Mav, I’d like you to meet my new travel buddy,” he grinned, introducing you by name.

Mav, as Bradley kept calling him, offered you one of those easy smiles as he held out his hand, which you took with a smile of your own.

“Ah, so this is the girl from the plane I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mav smirked, shooting a pointed look in his godson’s direction.

“Mav!” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth, his complexion instantly turning pink, even in the shade.

“Ah,” you smirked, feeling vindicated from your earlier blunder. “So you told Mav about me, huh?” you asked, nudging his side. “What did you say?” you teased, tossing back his question from before.

“Oh, he said plenty,” Mav jumped in, clearly enjoying watching Bradley squirm as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy. All those Gs he’s always pulling have finally gone to his head,” Bradley protested, although he was smiling as he said it.

“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this car ride very much,” you giggled, winking at Bradley as you slid into your seat.

“Promise you’ll still like me by the time we get home?” Bradley whispered, leaning in close as he climbed in beside you.

You grinned up at him, thinking about how, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. San Diego suddenly felt much more like home than it ever had.

“Promise.”

[i-like-what-this-says-about-you]

house md be like

chase: i have a case

foreman: me too, mines better

chase: no way, mines a genius 7 year old girl who had a heart attack during a debate against a high schooler

foreman: pfft, mines-

house walks in: doesn’t matter i met a guy outside who’s eye is twitching. obviously this means his kidney is failing and soon his liver

LATER

thirteen walks into the patient’s room: hi, i relate to you because of my childhood trauma. i am going to ask you invasive questions and have a deep conversation with you, a man i met 5 minutes ago. during this conversation i will realize an Important Medical Thing.

DURING AN MRI

foreman: i hate this patient for Personal Reasons.

taub: you are being unreasonable. i disagree for Personal Reasons.

LATER, Wilson’s office

House walks in: i bet you 50 bucks i can get cuddy to ask me out by the end of the week

wilson: deal. can’t wait for the 50 bucks

house: i love you with a burning passion

AGAIN LATER

taub: you hate the patient because of Reason, don’t you?

foreman: wrong.

taub: i will continue to guess and nag you about this. by the end of the episode we will have learned a Sad Thing About Foreman’s Past.

foreman: :(

LATER

house: i want to almost kill the patient to save his life, it’s the only way

cuddy: no wtf

LATER

house: cuddy said no but we’re doing it anyway

thirteen: no! this is dangerous and unsafe and dangerous! cuddy said no because anyone with common sense would say no! i refuse to take part!

foreman: yeah, me too!

taub: you’re only saying that because you hate the guy, but also i won’t be taking part either

chase: i’ll do it.

house: i knew i could count on you, son

AFTER ALMOST KILLING THE PATIENT AND SAVING HIS LIFE BUT LEAVING HIM BLIND IN ONE EYE AND DEAF IN ONE EAR OR SOMETHING LIFE ALTERING LIKE THAT

cuddy: great job chase, now next episode will be legal stuff deciding whether you and house can keep your licenses

chase: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

LATER, Wilson’s office

house: gimme dat 50 bucks

wilson: impOssible

house shows him video proof

wilson sighs and hands over the money

house: wanna go fuck nasty in the janitor closet?

wilson: i don’t see a downside to that

[centrally-unplanned]

The thing about morality is that it only matters when it's real. Discussions of rules or norms for what is right or wrong are almost always, at some level, illusions, approximating reality and guiding decisions in an uncertain world - which does not make them useless, just contextual. Profaning god in your bedroom can never be “wrong” - there is no one to hear you, no one to be hurt by it. You can only show something is really wrong from the intentions of the actions and their results.

So with that out of the way, lets talk about Knives Chau - and specifically, how the comic vs the anime handled that part of the story.

Scott Pilgrim vs The Reification of Dating a High Schooler

There is an extremely pervasive meme in Scott Pilgrim discourse that our titular Scott is a scumbag. Our returning whipping boy the Kotaku article loves this idea, describing Scott’s “detestable behavior” and wondering “was it too subtle the first time about Scott being an absolute shitbag?”. There is this viral headline screenshot from an interview floating around right now riding that same line:

Which is, of course, pretty much false. Its up to you in the end, “shitbag” is a subjective description, but the story just isn’t about events that would be described that way. Its the story of a guy getting over an awful ex, hurting some people, then meeting a new person, and realizing step-by-step what it takes to be their partner and levelling up as a person each time he does. He starts off broken, and Ramona of course is just as broken - getting better is their mutual arc. And its fundamentally about relationship drama - those stakes don’t make you a scumbag lol, just clueless, unless you are terminally online and don’t know what real stakes are.

I will let O’Malley get the last word in with his quote the writer of that interview is hilariously trying to torture into his headline:

There's a bit of, like, young people see Scott Pilgrim a certain way, and, you know, there's a lot of, like, 18-19-year-old fans that are really judgmental of the character. They're like, "Oh, he's a bad person. I would never do that." But I always tell them, like, get back to me when you're 25 or 30, tell me how your 20s went. Were you a bad person? Everyone has to make choices and do things in life that maybe they're not going to be proud of later.

Scott is a scumbag the way everyone is - you yourself will likely commit similar sins; that at least seems to be the authorial intent, and I agree with it.

So how does dating Knives Chau slot into this?

Despite the memes, age, in fact, is just a number - two consenting people dating does not a sin make. The reason dating underage people is bad is because of its consequences, not the categorical imperative. So what are the consequences of dating Knives Chau in the comic?

Knives is, as a consequence of dating a guy who is simply via his age able to appear so much cooler than her peers to her, absolutely obsessed with Scott. She worships his band:

She starts aping his taste in music and interests; she slots herself into his circle of friends, who don’t relate to her, even after their breakup (often drinking her way through it):

She totally spirals after he cheats on her and leaves her, blaming everyone but him; she is wounded and hurt for months, a year, over a relationship that lasted weeks:

Knives Chau is a literal poster child for why you should not date a high schooler. She is, at every turn, emotionally not ready to date someone who is not at her own level of social development, and is deeply affected by it. It is, sometimes, played for laughs - that is the nature of the comic, everything is played for laughs, but I would have given it a bit more dramatic space myself - but over the course of the story Scott himself realizes how much of an ass he was to her, and how he didn’t take what happened seriously.

The reason I view this with charity is what Scott did to lead to this - he met a cute girl on the bus! He was deeply hurt and kind of numb in life, and found someone who was safe and easy to talk to. He never attempts to kiss her (she starts trying to kiss him which he repeatedly rejects) they don’t even hold hands, and it lasted a few weeks. He knew deep down, pretty much immediately, it was fake:

Then he met an actual person he liked, and with some browbeating from Wallace agreed to break up with her, but chickened out for a day. Then the next day he decides to break up with her, and she drops the L bomb before he can, so he instantly ends it. It is really awkward for everyone involved.

Pushing off an awkward and uncomfortable conversation resulting from a dumb decision you made on a whim for a week - god I relate to that, that’s everyone! If you think it isn’t you I think you're lying. Its why this relationship is so interesting in the comic - Scott is always one step removed from it, putting it at abeyance, and the fact that something so minor to him is so destructive to her is a really good portrait of how these kinds of things happen. Its so easy to hurt someone when you don’t even know what the stakes are, and when its coming not from malice, but from weakness. Its a very good portrayal of a bad relationship because its bad in a relatable way, even if as a story is a bit more dramatic than is typical. And its a great portrayal of how fraught age gaps can be - this bad relationship is part of what makes the comic a good story.

But its 2023, we don’t give a shit about any of that anymore!

O’Malley in the same interview discusses the cultural shift around these kind of relationships:

I felt like in this day and age, I had to provide clarity on that [relationship]. Because when I wrote the first books, I took it for granted that people would understand that dating a high schooler was a bad thing. But on the internet, in this day and age, people are like, "He's dating a high schooler. That's terrible!" Like, that's pretty much what I say on page 1 of the book. But I try to spell it out a little bit more this time.

He isn’t telling the full story though - it was bad in 2004, but not bad the way it is today. Its dubiousness was mitigated by its frequency; people were doing this kind of shit all the time. Scott Pilgrim is a bass guitarist in an indie band; fucking groupies is like built into the cover charge. Half the problem Scott has in dating Knives is that she is the wrong kind of 17-year-old - had Scott met her at 1 am in the aftermath of a Born Ruffian’s concert at the Whippet Lounge knocking down shots off the back of her fake ID, no one would have even noticed. Hell, no one does notice; there is someone who actually makes out with a drunk 17-year-old Knives Chau in the comic Scott Pilgrim, and isn’t Scott Pilgrim:

No one cares about Kim’s inebriated petting session here; that is 10% because she is a Girl and Girls Can’t Be Predators, 40% because she isn’t the main character, and 50% because Kim Pine’s dating history is not a useful proxy battleground for GamerGate-adjacent nerd culture wars in ~2014; but that is road that goes directly to hell, so let's veer back.

The point, of course, is that in 2004 this is a crime flecked with normality, something your friend would do and you would maybe just cock an eyebrow at:

Its not that in discourse today - it is radically more condemned. It is not a contextual sin, but an original sin. It underwent a process I am calling reification - where it goes from being just a shifting descriptor of reality, to a thing in itself, with a defined (reified) meaning. And to be clear, that is in a lot ways on net a good thing? The reality is that, despite everyone’s protestations, there are today thousands of 17-year-olds taking the L line out to a gig at the Brooklyn Steel and going down on a 25-year-old guy they just met in a back alley off Frost St who swears he’s a “drummer in a sick new band” that played here “just last week”, he promises, and she is having a great time, bragging to her friends about how hot his tattoo was, and then shipping herself off to Cornell next year to start on her pre-med track with barely a memory. But for every dozen of those, there is at least one person who is deeply, deeply hurt, a Knives Chau who never deserved this. The rest can have a slightly worse time, its probably worth it.

That does not make it a categorical imperative, though - the reification has masked that truth. The crime comes from the context - those other girls aren’t victims, they would laugh at you for suggesting they were. But in 2023, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is no longer concerned with context. It is telling you, right to your face, that Scott is a bad dude. Over and over and over - jokes from the Evil League about “wow, I thought we were evil”, its not subtle.

Yet meanwhile, Knives Chau is, like, fine? She dates Scott, is totally into him, and then literally in the middle of his funeral forgets about him for Envy crashing it:

Picks up the bass and has yuri-inflected playtime with Kim the literal next day:

And less than a week later is pitching an off-broadway musical adaption of Scott’s life to a billionaire Matthew Patel - I can’t explain that okay, I’m as confused as you are.

She is mad at Scott, sure, but she is over it in a matter of days. Hell, notice how she was already a fan of the Clash at Demonhead now? There is no scene of Scott introducing her to his kind of music. He didn’t change her. By the end she is a member of his band and they are totally chill:

This is, again, about a week or two later.

Knives is not an important character in this show, way less than in the original, this is no grand sin. But I still find it very interesting: O’Malley is wrong. He “spells it out” way less in this version when it comes to the actual consequences of Scott’s actions. Everyone’s verbal condemnations are substitutes to replace the real damage his actions dealt in the comic. Scott is a better person this time, in a world that has universally agreed he is worse (still not a good move ofc). Even Scott’s moment of apology to Knives about their dating is so tepid its almost Straussian:

Its ‘frowned upon’…which is not the same thing as saying it was wrong! I don’t think this is intentional, its just funny, but its a nice capstone nevertheless.

And it had to be this way, not just for media in general, but for Scott Pilgrim in particular. Not only are sexual crimes far more reified today, but Scott Pilgrim’s sin of dating a high schooler is reified as well - its the first piece of discourse everyone encounters about it. Its the ur-debate of the franchise. The idea of actively engaging on this point, and digging deeper into it…its too hot, too controversial. Way better to shy away from it, disown it. The discourse wrote this part of the script over the course of a decade; its not something the creatives had any say in.

Honestly they should have just gone all the way - just make Knives 19. Then how tepid it is wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. Scott can just be an asshole for cheating on her, that would work fine. If you aren’t going to commit to the reality of these things, you shouldn’t bother with it at all.

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

never been (stage) kissed

Summary: After years of being a struggling actress in Los Angeles, you finally land your big break! The only problem is, you’ve been cast opposite your longtime celebrity crush… Ruby Cruz. What will you do when the director demands a kiss between the two of you?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, small amount of adult humor, kissing, fluff, thigh touching, in depth details of Hollywood movie shooting, anxious!reader, publicity tweets and comments, ruby being the sweetest girl EVER

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is a Real Person Fiction. I’ve included a mass disclaimer of RPF guidelines here. Make SURE to click the link before reading, it’s extremely important for the safety of all Real People involved in this fiction.

———

You stared at the movie script in your hand, biting your lip to stop from squealing. After being in Los Angeles for the past five years, you had finally landed your big break.

You had known that you wanted to act ever since your mother signed you up to be a munchkin in a community theatre production of “The Wizard of Oz.” Of course, being a stubborn elementary schooler, you fought her on it, saying the songs were “stupid” and the costumes were “itchy.” But as soon as opening night came, and the lights hit your face, you put on a smile and celebrated the death of the Wicked Witch like it was something you’d been waiting for your entire life.

After the song's last note, deafening applause echoed around the theater, causing adrenaline to course through your veins. In that moment, you decided to spend the rest of your life chasing that feeling.

When you reached middle school, you joined their drama department, taking theatre as an elective class while occasionally participating in the school plays. Once high school rolled around, you began to take some of the more advanced classes, and even competed in a couple One-Act Play competitions. A lot of the people you started taking classes with eventually got bored and left to pursue other hobbies, but over the years you just fell more and more in love with acting, and became completely dedicated to your craft.

Instead of attending college, after you graduated high school you packed up whatever you needed and moved across the country to a small town about half an hour away from Los Angeles. The area was slightly sketchy, your apartment was small, and you had to work two jobs while sharing with four other roommates just to make rent.

Los Angeles kinda… sucked. But you had stars in your eyes and couldn’t be happier.

Unfortunately, you were kind of in for a rude awakening once audition season rolled around. Back in high school, you would book leads left and right. Now, it seemed like the only gigs you could book were background work, maybe a role in a rinky-dink student film if you were lucky. You always took what you could get, but you longed for something that could get your foot in the door.

One day, one of the short films you starred in entitled “Attack of the Killer Zombie Prom Queens” got entered into some film festival, and not only did it win an award you couldn’t remember the name of, it ended up going viral on YouTube, and not in a bad way either. Your performance in that film was astounding.

Plus, not that this was the sole reason the film blew up, but as an actress in your early 20’s who tended to take care of herself, you were kind of… well… hot.

Suddenly, you were getting recognized in public, signed with an agency, and landing more notable roles. You were featured in a music video for an up-and-coming country artist, booked a commercial for a costume makeup company (in which you brought back your look from “Attack of the Killer Zombie Prom Queens”), and even starred in three episodes of a new series on HBO Max.

Just when you thought life couldn’t get any better, one day you were coming back from what was either your third or fourth audition of the day, when you got a call from your agent on the drive home. You groaned, almost certain she was calling to schedule another “last-minute” audition. Sure you appreciated how hard she worked to get you booked, but you were also so tired after a long day.

To your surprise, when you picked up the phone, she ecstatically announced that you had booked a huge role.

In a feature film.

Starring alongside your celebrity crush… Ruby Cruz.

You had to pull over on the side of a highway to keep from swerving out of excitement.

Ruby had been your celebrity crush since you saw her in the Disney+ series “Willow.” Her masculine ambience, her devil-may-care attitude, and the way she swung her sword had you absolutely drooling. Somehow, you finished the entire series in two days, and immediately ran to IMDB to add Every Single Thing she’s been in to your watch list.

Now, you stood in front of the building where your first read-through was supposed to take place, the script for “Aliens of Atlantis” resting in your shaking hands. You gulped as you pushed open the door, wondering how you were going to keep your cool around Ruby when the very thought of her practically sent you into cardiac arrest.

Walking into the reading room, you were met with several chairs arranged into a circle and sounds of chatter from the other actors. You recognized a few of them from some smaller projects, even recognizing one from a movie that had come out the previous year. Your eyes scanned the room for Ruby, heart beating out of your chest when they landed on the back of a choppy brunette bob.

When Ruby turned around, you swore her blue eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights. She caught you staring at her from across the room, and shot you a wide toothy smile before walking over to you.

“Hey,” she started. “You must be Zephyra.”

You blinked at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Zephyra.” She repeated. “You’re playing the alien queen of Atlantis, right?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at you slightly and tilted her head, worried she may have gotten you mixed up with someone else.

Her words clicked in your head, finally. “Oh! Yes! I’m playing the role of Zephyra.”

Ruby’s smile returned as she let out a lighthearted chuckle. You swallowed, trying to keep your cool. You still had trouble wrapping your mind around the fact that you were standing in front of the Ruby Cruz, and having a semi-successful conversation.

She stuck out her hand, offering a handshake. “Hi, I’m Ruby. I’m playing Calantha.”

You took her hand, electric shocks vibrating through your body at her touch. “Nice to meet you.”

After removing her hand (much to your displeasure), she turned to walk back over to her seat, but not before flashing you a smile over her shoulder. “Can’t wait to work with you!”

God, why did she have to be so cool?

The table read went fairly well, in your opinion. The movie was about Calantha, an underwater adventurer, finding the lost city of Atlantis during an expedition. Once there, she finds the city being ruled by aliens who’s spaceship crashed near the area about 100 years ago. Calantha finds Zephyra, the alien queen, who makes her promise to keep their secret, and in return, Calantha will help her run the city.

You were playing Zephyra, of course, since being in “Attack of the Killer Zombie Prom Queens” proved you looked hot even in otherworldly makeup. You kind of thought there might be some romantic or even sexual tension between Calantha and Zephyra, but you brushed it off as you thought that might not be the artistic intention.

Once filming started, your days were basically exclusively spent on set. Not that you were complaining, you loved every second. Even after coming home at 1am when you left for work at 6am, a blissful smile would be painted across your tired face.

The only thing that bothered you was that you barely ever got to talk to Ruby on set. It was more your fault than hers. Every time you two were working together, your brain short circuited and you couldn’t get out anything more than a few dim-witted babbles. Ruby was always so sweet about it though, always lightheartedly chuckling at your barely-comprehensible speech, sometimes even giving your upper arm a squeeze if you felt especially nervous.

You knew she meant well, but any touch from your celebrity crush was sure to do the opposite of calming you down.

One day, during a filming session, you and Ruby were meant to be sitting especially close to each other. You were sure you felt some romantic tension between the two characters, but you chalked it up to your crush on the actress and tried to downplay it. The director, however, seemed very frustrated today, this was the nineteenth take of this particular scene and he still wasn’t happy.

“Cut!” He yelled, letting out a frustrated sigh as you and Ruby turned your attention towards him.

“Everything alright, sir?” Ruby asked, making you glad you weren’t the only one who noticed his irritation.

“This scene… it’s missing something.” He brought his hand to his chin and squinted at the both of you. “Do we think we could add a kiss? Right here?”

Your heart stopped, and all the moisture disappeared from your mouth.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed people before. You had your fair share of dates back in high school, that wasn’t the problem.

You’ve kissed, but you’ve never stage kissed.

Sure you had plenty of acting experiences, but the roles you played never required kissing. Instead of playing Aurora, you made a fabulous Maleficent. While Elle Woods locked lips with Emmett, you were busy portraying a hilarious Paulette. And of course, nobody wants to make out with a zombie prom queen.

You had no idea if there was any difference between actual kisses and stage-kisses. Obviously, sex scenes in movies weren’t real. But kisses? What if there is a difference and you go to kiss Ruby on camera and make her uncomfortable? What if she pushes you away? What if she gets mad? You don’t know how you’d recover from something like that, and your mind swarmed with plans to flee the country if that did happen.

Ruby opened her mouth to answer the director, before looking at you for confirmation and noticing your overly-panicked state. She sent you a reassuring smile, and placed a gentle hand on your back.

She turned to the director. “Could we pick this up after lunch? I think my scene partner and I have some things to discuss.”

The director agreed, and since it was still about thirty minutes to lunch, decided to use that time to record some “room noise.” You and Ruby were meant to sit still and quietly, the only thing you heard being the echo of your heartbeat in your ears.

Suddenly, you received a text notification, causing sound to go off and the director to groan and shoot you an annoyed look. You mumbled a quick “sorry” before switching your phone to vibrate and looking to see who texted you.

After wolfing down a sandwich from the craft services table, you stood in front of the trailer with Ruby’s name on the door, wringing your clammy hands while deciding whether or not to knock. You took a deep breath, raised your knuckles, and knocked three times, taking a step back after.

She answered almost immediately, staring down at you with a comforting grin. “Hey, come on in.”

Walking up the stairs and into Ruby’s trailer, you couldn’t help but notice how much cleaner it was than yours. You weren’t necessarily sloppy, but your vanity was covered in various bottles of blue face paint, while your floor held multiple alien-like prosthetics. Ruby’s was tidier, with a small couch pushed up against the wall, and her vanity holding nothing but some makeup basics and a half-full can of Dr. Pepper she had been drinking right before you walked in.

Ruby took a seat in her vanity chair and took a sip from her Dr. Pepper, motioning for you to sit on the small couch. “What’s going on? You didn’t seem too comfortable with the kissing scene.”

You gulped, staring down at your lap. “It’s not that…”

Ruby sat up, leaning forward to gawk at you. “Oh my god… have you never been kissed?”

“What? No! Of course I have…” you trailed off. “I just… I’ve never stage kissed before, and I know you have, so is it any different from regular kissing? I feel so stupid for asking and I’m so sorry but I didn’t wanna do it wrong while filming and I’m kinda embarrassed that I don’t know the answer so that’s why I wanted to ask you privately because I didn’t wanna fuck up…”

Ruby stared at you, silent and wide eyed. You felt your heartbeat in your ears as you tried to decipher what she was thinking. Suddenly, she threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. Your heart sank. Here you were being awkward and vulnerable in front of your crush, and she was laughing at you.

Just before you decided to get up and walk out, Ruby calmed down, wiping away a tear and smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m not making fun of you. I didn’t mean to laugh, really. You’re just so cute.”

You felt your cheeks burn at her words. She thinks you’re cute?

Ruby threw her soda away in a nearby trash can and moved to sit next to you on the small couch. She criss-crossed her legs, turning to face you while pondering how to answer your question.

“So… stage kisses are different from regular kisses, but they’re also not, you know? Like, we’re kissing but we’re not like… kissing.”

She peered over at you, studying your facial expressions. You looked more confused than ever, so she continued her explanation.

“So, if you’re asking if my lips will physically be on your lips… then the answer is yes, they will. But they’re not exactly like the real thing, because it’s more of a demonstration to the audience rather than an act of passion between two people.”

“A demonstration?” You cocked your head. Ruby nodded.

“Yeah, so say the camera was over there…” she pointed out in front of you. “…then you might cup my jaw, or cradle the back of my head. But if you were to grab my face or something like that, it’d look pretty awkward in a fifty-fifty profile shot.”

You nodded in understanding. “Ok… I think I get what you’re saying.”

“There are also different types of kissing.” Ruby continued. “Like, it should portray how your character feels about the other character. When Zephyra has scenes with Calantha, how does she feel?”

You gulped, focusing on your lap again. “Well, to be honest, it kinda feels like there’s a lot of romantic or sexual tension between our characters, but I’ve sort of been suppressing it because I’m not sure that was the intention.”

“But you feel like Zephyra is attracted to Calantha sexually?” Ruby asked. You nodded. “Great! You don’t necessarily have to make it explicit, but something like that can help you dive deeper into your character.”

Ruby scooted closer to you, taking your hands in hers. She gazed at you with half lidded eyes, causing your breathing to accelerate.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Ruby’s words barely resonated in your head, there was no way you heard her correctly. “You… huh?”

“For practice.” Ruby clarified, letting go of your hands. “Like you would during filming. Is that ok?”

An involuntary swallow forced itself down your throat as you nodded. You couldn’t believe you were about to kiss your celebrity crush, even if it was only for practice.

You pressed your hand into her warm cheek, pulling her close and quickly pecking her lips before retreating away. Your face burned from embarrassment while Ruby cocked her head, clearly confused.

“That’s it?” She asked. “My bad, I didn’t realize Calantha was your grandmother.”

Ruby moved closer and cradled the back of your head, entangling her fingers into your soft locks. You felt your hands sweat as her big blue eyes gazed into yours. “I was thinking maybe something more like this…”

She crashed her lips into yours, causing warmth to explode in your chest. Her fingers played with your hair as you began to kiss back, and your arms wrapped around her waist. Holy shit could she kiss! You could barely fathom how soft her lips were, tasting faintly of Dr. Pepper and vanilla lip balm. As hard as you tried to act professional and pretend there was a camera in front of you, every inch of your body screamed at you to succumb to your most primal instincts.

You lifted one hand from her waist and moved to rest it on her mid-thigh, causing a gentle moan to escape from her lips and a shiver to run down her body. Startled, you moved back, throughly convinced that you majorly fucked up.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, pulling back your hand like it had touched fire. “I wasn’t thinking, fuck. I got too swept up in the moment. I shouldn’t have touched you, that was completely unprofessional.”

“Hm…?” Ruby blinked, still in a daze. “Oh. Oh! You’re good! Don’t be sorry. I liked it. Really.”

Ruby grinned at you shyly. You stared back at her, a question you weren’t quite sure how to ask lingering at the tip of your tongue. “Ruby, are we still… practicing?”

Her smile faded as her eyes went wide, her gaze dropping to her lap. It was her turn to be coy, a sight you’d never seen before.

She dropped her voice to a low whisper as she choked out her question. “Do you want to be?”

Before you could even open your mouth to answer, your phone alarm screeched from your jacket pocket. You took it out, groaning as you turned it off.

Ruby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “What was that?”

“My alarm,” you answered. “I have to go.”

“But lunch isn’t over for another twenty minutes.” Ruby pointed out, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Yeah, but I have to head back early so they can touch up my makeup and fix my prosthetics.”

Ruby sighed in understanding. She supposed your costume might have a bit more upkeep than hers. Your prosthetics did look a little wonky after the lunch break, never mind your smudged blue lipstain that made her apprehensive to look in a mirror.

You collected yourself and turned to walk out, but looked over your shoulder before opening the door. “Uhm… Ruby?”

“Hm?” She answered.

You wrung your hands anxiously. “Do you think we could maybe… do this again? Sometime?”

Ruby’s head shot up to look at you, and a playful smile spread across her face. “Do what? More kissing lessons?”

You rolled your eyes as she chuckled, then gave you a lopsided grin. “I’d like that. Lunch again, tomorrow?”

A blush pink color sprinkled across the apples of your cheeks as you smiled back at her, trying your best to stay cool and suppress the giddy feeling that was bubbling inside of you.

“See you then.”

[mellowsadistic]

The Flower Girl - Part 1

Grace is getting married and she’s determined not to let Jessica, her husband-to-be’s ex, ruin the wedding. But if this is her big day, why is she being dressed as the flower girl?

***

Grace was walking around the reception, greeting her guests, when she spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Jessica. Grace had invited her out of politeness, but she’d really hoped the woman wouldn’t come. What was she thinking, turning up here? Surely she’d known Grace hadn’t really wanted her to be at her wedding!

She was talking with Sophie, one of Grace’s old schoolfriends, and Sophie seemed to be listening raptly to whatever it was she was saying.

Grace continued to wander around, accepting congratulations and beaming at everyone, tossing her beautiful blonde hair behind her and feeling like the prettiest woman in the room. Eventually she reached Sophie herself.

“Hi, Sophie!” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Hi sweetie!” Sophie said, turning to look at her. She spoke in an oddly high-pitched, overly-enthusiastic voice, like she was talking to a nursery-schooler. “Are you looking forward to the ceremony?”

Grace didn’t know what to say. She’d been expecting Sophie to say ‘congratulations’. Why the hell was she talking in such a stupid way? “Uh, yes!” she managed, deciding it was best to just ignore her friend’s odd behaviour. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long! I hope it’s everything I imagined!”

“Awww!” Sophie cooed. Grace felt herself going red. Was Sophie mocking her? “That’s so cute! Are you going to wear a pretty dress, honey?”

“Uh, yes of course. I… In fact, I’d better go and get dressed now. It takes a while and I need my bridesmaids to help.”

“Of course you do,” Sophie said patronisingly.

“Well… See you later, Sophie!”

“Bye-bye, cutie!” Sophie waved.

Grace turned and walked away. What was that about?! She frowned, thinking. Jessica had been talking to Sophie not long ago. Could she have convinced Sophie to talk to her like that for some reason? Grace hoped the most special day of her life wasn’t going to be tainted by some stupid practical joke. But she couldn’t imagine Sophie taking part of something like that. Sophie had never even liked Jessica!

It was probably just nerves, Grace told herself, trying to push the matter from her mind. She needed to get her bridesmaids and go into the back to change into her wedding dress. She felt excitement bubbling up inside her. She’d never really stopped fantasising about the perfect wedding, ever since she was a little girl, and now she was finally getting it! And Rob was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. She flushed at the thought of her gorgeous husband-to-be. She wouldn’t see him until she walked down the aisle though. She wanted everything to be perfect.

“Good luck, Gracie!” someone said to her as she made her way through the crowd, and she smiled awkwardly back in the general direction of the voice. She hated being called Gracie - she wasn’t a two-year-old for goodness sake! But nothing was going to ruin her good mood today. She was determined of that.

She slipped past a group of guests and found the people she was looking for; Olivia, Caroline, and Annie. Her three bridesmaids. At least the three of them were acting normally. They hurried up to her the moment they saw her, looking almost as excited as she felt.

They put their heads together, giggling.

“Ready?” asked Olivia, grinning.

Grace grinned back and nodded.

The four of them moved through the guests and into a room in the back of the venue where Grace could get changed. Her wedding dress was hanging on a clothes rack waiting for her. She beamed at it. It was beautiful – pure white, of course, with a floral-patterned bodice and a flowing, floor-length skirt. Elegant and sophisticated, sexy but still classy. The perfect dress.

Grace would barely contain her excitement as Olivia, Caroline, and Annie helped her change into it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror in front of her as she was steadily transformed into the bride she’d dreamed about being ever since she was a little girl.

She was almost done when Caroline suddenly said “Oh!”

“What?” Grace asked, worried something had gone wrong.

“Your veil! I think your mother has it. Or maybe it’s still in the car…”

“Don’t panic,” Olivia soothed, seeing Grace’s face. “The three of us will go and look for it. I’m sure it’s around. We’ll be right back.”

Her bridesmaids left the room, leaving Grace alone. But a few moments later, the door opened, and Jessica stepped inside.

“Hi sweetie!” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hello Jessica,” said Grace, looking at her warily.

“Don’t you look pretty!” Jessica cooed, but her eyes were sparkling malevolently. “Looking forward to walking down the aisle?”

“Listen Jessica,” said Grace firmly, “whatever it is you’re here for, whatever you’ve got planned…”

“Planned?” asked Jessica, cocking her head.

“I just don’t want you ruining things by trying to make this all about you,” Grace said coldly. “This is a very special day for me.”

“Of course it is, Gracie,” Jessica said. Her smile widened. “The wedding couldn’t happen without you!” She let out a light, tinkling laugh, and then she turned and left the room.

Grace scowled. Gracie again. And she didn’t like the way Jessica had been smiling. Did she really not have anything planned? They’d been friends once, but Grace had got together with Rob shortly after he’d broken up with Jessica, and Jessica hadn’t liked that one bit. Grace remembered Jessica screaming at her, calling her a big-titted whore who’d stolen her boyfriend.

Grace adjusted her large breasts in her wedding dress. It was true she had a better figure than Jessica, but she hardly thought that mattered. She and Rob had been meant for each other, and that was all there was to it.

What else was it that Jessica had said to her? Stupid little girls shouldn’t steal other people’s things, that was it. Grace smirked. Rob was hers now anyway. They were getting married and there was nothing Jessica could do about it. She’d only been invited in the first place because it would have seemed rude not to invite her after Grace had invited all her other old friends – it would make it seem like she was the one still carrying a grudge.

Grace shook her head. What was she doing? She shouldn’t even be thinking about Jessica right now. Not on her big day! She admired herself in the mirror, picturing how she’d look walking smoothly down the aisle on the best day of her life.

Minutes past, and her bridesmaids still hadn’t returned. But just when Grace was starting to get worried, the door opened again. She look around eagerly as Olivia and Caroline stepped into the room, but her smile faltered when they were closely followed not by Annie, but by Jessica. She was holding something white and semi-transparent in her arms. Was that stupid bitch carrying her veil?! Hadn’t she got the message that she wasn’t wanted?

But as Jessica stepped forward, Grace realised the thing she was holding wasn’t a veil at all. It was a dress. A very different dress from the beautiful, elegant, sophisticated wedding dress she was currently wearing.

“What’s going on?” asked Grace. She’d just noticed that her two bridesmaids were looking at her rather strangely. They were both smiling, but Olivia was shaking her head from side to side, like a kindergarten teacher amused by the antics of a misbehaving toddler, and Caroline was looking at her with the same sort of sickeningly sweet eagerness that Grace had seen earlier on Sophie’s face. “What are you…?”

“Come on, sweetie,” Jessica interrupted, and her eyes were glinting darkly. “It’s time to get you into your proper clothes. That’s enough playing pretend. I need my wedding dress for my big day.” She smiled broadly. “But don’t worry. I’ve found something much more appropriate for you to wear!"

[momotonescreaming]

Teenage Dream - Part 5

AKA - the Jeff and Eddie have crushes on jocks series Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“Jeff!” Eddie shouted, voice raised over the roar of the cars entering the student car park. Jeff whipped his head to look over at his friend, waving his arm from the other side of the car park, hanging out of the side of the van. “Dude!”

Vinnie gave him a look, raising a judgemental eyebrow in such a way that only middle schoolers could, as Eddie hollered for his attention. He was in no position to judge, Jeff’s met his friends.

Jeff sneered back, gently shoving at his brother’s shoulder, pushing him in the general direction of the middle school. “Move it, squirt, or you’ll be late.”

“As if,” Vinnie huffed, rolling his eyes, but walking off anyway. Brothers.

By the time Vinnie had left, Eddie was across the car park, leaning on the roof of Jeff’s old Ford. Keys in his hand, jingling against his rings. “He giving you shit?”

“When is he not?” Jeff replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he locked his car. Falling into step with Eddie, the pair walking in tandem towards the doors to Hawkins High. He found himself scanning the crowds, looking for Frank, or Gareth, or any of the Hellfire freshies. He found himself scanning for strawberry blonde hair, for blue eyes, for the familiar green of the cheerleader uniforms.

“He giving you shit about Chrissy,” Eddie sing songs, biting his lip and smiling as he nudges his shoulder against Jeff’s. He’s not shouting it from the rooftops, which is nice, but man, Eddie could stand to be a lot quieter. If anyone heard, Jeff was going to give Eddie a wedgie.

“Oh shut up,” Jeff replies, although he laughs as he shoves at Eddie back. “He doesn’t know and he’s not gonna.”

“Boo.” Eddie says, fake pouting. “That’s no fun.”

“You’re just saying that because you have no siblings,” Jeff replies, pushing open the doors and heading into the halls of Hawkins High. “Would you want someone in your house constantly giving you shit? I’m not giving them both any ammunition to be more annoying than they already are.”

“I mean,” Eddie starts, dragging out the word. “I have Wayne.”

“You told Uncle Wayne?” Jeff asks, brow furrowed as they manoeuvre through the halls to Eddie’s locker. He knew Eddie was out to Wayne — that it was part of the reason he was staying with Wayne and not his father (before he got shipped off to prison. But he didn’t think Eddie would openly admit his crush on Harrington to him like that. It would open a whole can of worms. Imply that there was something more. Something serious. If he was telling Wayne about it. It’s basically one step removed from meeting the parents. “About you and you-know-who?”

“Well no,” Eddie admits with a tilt of his head, swerving out of the way of a gaggle of sophomores, taking up the entire width of the hall. “But the old man can read me like a book. He knows things, I’m sure of it.”

Jeff snorts, leaning against the lockers as they stop at Eddie’s. Watching as he unlocks it, and sifts through the piles of shit he’s got in there. “You always say that about him, though. What makes this different?”

“He’s giving me looks, you know?” Eddie says into his locker, pulling out a ragged notebook and a stray textbook, before turning back to Jeff. “He’s figuring things out and he's going to be insufferable about it.”

Jeff snorts as Eddie shuts his locker, books in hand, as they head towards Jeff’s. They’ve still got time for once, normally Jeff heads to his locker alone, and Eddie arrives in a flurry later — speeding into the parking lot with a screech of his tyres. “Because your uncle has nothing better to do than speculate about your secret love life?”

“Exactly,” Eddie jokes, grinning back at Jeff. “But enough about me. Do you think you’ll meet her in your free period again?”

And thank god Eddie didn’t say her name, not here, surrounded by the teenage sharks of Hawkins. Any glimpse of vulnerability, something to exploit, the bottom feeders getting too big for their station — it was brutal.

“I’m not that lucky,” Jeff laughs, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow.

“Wanna bet?” Eddie jokes, nudging Jeff’s side with his elbow. He’s biting his tongue to hold back his laughter.

“One’s enough thanks,” He replies. “And I am winning that one, by the way.”

“Oh eat shit Jeff,” Eddie laughs, before sobering dramatically, whirling around to face him. Continuing to walk down the hall at an angle, not looking where he’s going, Eddie continues. “But anyway, you can tell me how you wrong you are about you-know-who at band practice tonight.”

Jeff just rolls his eyes again, smiling, and heads to class.

—

There’s a buzzing, an itch, an anticipation, the second the bell rings and it’s Jeff’s free period. It bubbles up underneath his skin, threatening to break through, and nothing will quell it. Nothing except seeing her, or perhaps the confirmed absence of her presence.

He packs up his things, leaves the classroom, and heads towards the library. He has all his things — he can’t procrastinate by getting something from his locker. Plus, someone will absolutely try and steal his table if he does.

That’s his table, dammit.

So Jeff sighs — quietly, under his breath — and weaves through the halls to the library, hitching his bag further onto his shoulder. Eyes down, walking fast, avoiding the eye of any jock or jerk who might be lingering in the halls. It’s easier, when Hellfire is all together, a united force. It’s also easier with Eddie, acting larger than life, scary and dramatic — to scare the jocks away. Also helps that he’s the high school’s only dealer. If he cuts them off — and he will — then they’re fucked.

So he makes it to the library without incident — nodding a silent greeting to the librarian — before he weaves through the stacks to the shelf he needs. There’s a book he needs to check through for his English essay, and he’s reached the point where he’s stuck without it.

Bag hanging off one shoulder, weighing him down, making him feel more off kilter than normal — Jeff tilts his head as he reads through the spines of the books. Gently tabbing through them, pushing them aside with his fingers, trying desperately to ignore the swooping of his stomach. His wandering mind.

He’s not alone in the library, there are others wandering the shelves, claiming the tables, and Jeff absently watches them out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t see any strawberry blonde hair, no cheerleader uniform, so he averts his gaze back to the stacks. Swallows his tongue.

Sighing — he tries to be quiet about it, so people don’t glare at him, so the librarian doesn’t shush him — and eventually finds his book. Slides it out of the shelf, tucks it under one arms, and weaves his way back to his table. Off to the side, near the back of the library, nice and quiet. Undisturbed, not like the tables in the centre, right by the librarians desk. There’s always chatter, always people, always large study groups. It was peaceful at his table, no one else usually came by, but Jeff couldn’t help but wish for company this time.

And it was like he had jinxed it.

Rounding the corner, Jeff looks over to find someone sitting at his table. Jolting in place, eyes wide, he finds a pair of clear blue eyes looking at his.

Chrissy shrugs, almost shrinking into herself as she gives him a little wave. Smiling shyly, cheeks flushing, as she looks at him from over the table. Sat in her seat from last time, leaving Jeff’s usual seat free, her books and papers spread out on her half of the table. Hair curled out of her face, pinned back with pale green pins. Her eyeshadow matches, because of course it does. It’s cute. She’s cute, as usual.

“Funny seeing you here,” Jeff jokes, smiling shyly back at Chrissy, heading closer so he can take his usual seat. Puts his book on the table, places his bag down at his feet, and slides into the chair.

“Hey Jeff,” She says, voice light, almost a giggle as she watches him from over the table. He likes the way his name sounds in her mouth, the way her tongue forms around it, shaping the sounds. Lips curling around the letters, pink and pert,  and shining with gloss. “Hope it’s okay I’m at your table. I was a little worried you weren’t gonna show up in time and wanted to save it for you.”

“That’s okay,” Jeff replies, smiling, feeling his heart flutter in his chest and butterflies swoop in his stomach. Was Chrissy waiting for him? Did she sit at his table so she could see him? Was he someone she wanted to take the time to see? He felt a little giddy, lost in the feeling, the delusion of it. The fantasy of being someone Chrissy wanted to see. “Thanks for saving it for me.”

“It was no worries,” Chrissy giggles, and he tries not to look at the subtle flush across her cheeks. “As long as you don’t mind a little company?”

“’Course not,” Jeff replies, trying to smother his own smile, not look too obvious. “It’s nice to have you.”

He watches as she bites her bottom lip, looks down at her notes, and then back up at Jeff, looking through her lashes. Coy, almost shy, tentative. Looks away himself, dragging his gaze away from hers, reaching down to get the rest of his things out of his bag. His notebook and pens, a worn copy of the book they’re supposed to be writing an essay on, dog-eared and sun-faded. Places it on the table next to the book from the stacks — from the same author, so he can do some fancy compare and contrasting that he knows the teacher is a sucker for.

Opens his notebook, finds his essay draft, and tries not to let his mind wander. To let his gaze find its way back to her like a magnet, pulled together inevitably. To find himself doodling love hearts on the page. So he finds his place, and tries to write. To let the ideas flow through him, seeping into the page along with the ink of his pen.

He lets the ticking of the clock fade into the background, with the hum of students going out their business, and the scratch of his pen on the page. The sound of Chrissy’s pen on the page. Actually gets some writing done, makes a solid dent in his English essay.

And so he lets himself drift for a second, sneak a glance at Chrissy — only to find her looking back. She curls into herself — shy, embarrassed, giggling — with a hand over her mouth to smother the sound. But she can’t stop looking at him. And he can’t stop looking at her back. Maybe he’s imagining it, but it feels like there’s something there. And if that something is only friendship, a fleeting crush — he’ll take it. He won’t push her for more than she’s willing to give. He’s lucky to get this much. Her sitting at his table, remembering his name, waiting for him.

He ducks his head, huffs out a laugh that’s more an exhale of air than anything else, and looks back up at Chrissy. She’s still looking at him.

“Sorry,” she says through her hand. “I’m staring like a total weirdo.”

“I like weird,” Jeff says, feeling like he’s melting and sounding entirely too sincere about it. “If you couldn’t tell.”

“Well in that case, thanks.” She laughs, moving her hand away so he can see how much she’s smiling. She looks down and bites her lips, pausing, considering — before looking back up at him. Locking eyes.

“We share all the same free period’s right?” Chrissy continues. “Would you want to meet here tomorrow, like, officially. Be study buddies.”

Oh fuck, Jeff thinks. She’s so cute. She wants to meet him again. Eddie is going to be absolutely insufferable about this. Because of course he is. Jeff’s glad he didn’t take that bet.

Something swells in his chest, expanding his lungs, covering his insides with something as sweet and sticky as honey. He smiles at her, letting that sweetness seep out of him. “I’d like that.”

Tag List: @goosesister @scarlet-malfoy @mavernanche @manda-panda-monium @yoriposts @grtwdsmwhr @panicatthediaz @m-owo-n @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaosgremlinmunson @thespaceantwhowrites @perseus-notjackson @eyesofshinigami @hotluncheddie @novacorpsrecruit @nburkhardt @pansexuality-activated @silentiumdelirium @steaddie-on @steddie-as-they-go @redfreckledwolf @lavender248 @actualwakingnightmare

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you think all the characters are assholes?

Because i think they are despite their tragic backstories and i also don't think they appreciate Yuu enough, except for maybe the first years

I mean, the TWST characters are (mostly) inspired by Disney villains... Plus, they’re immature high schoolers still in the process of emotionally maturing. Of course they're not going to be perfect balls of sunshine. They're all going to be rude or have faults in their own ways, but they also have their strengths and charm points. I do call them assholes (lovingly), but I would hesitate to slap a singular label on any of the characters when they're all very well-rounded and morally ambiguous.

On the topic of Yuu, I think it makes sense that most of the cast doesn't really "appreciate" them. To begin with, most of the characters are not the openly sentimental types; they wouldn’t overtly express that gratitude even if it were present. Then we have to consider that Yuu isn't directly involved in their character growth or arcs in most cases; it's often the other characters who are confronting the OB boys or instigating, physically battling them to snap them out of it, and then comforting them afterwards.

As early as book 1, that pattern holds true. Ace is the one that initially pissed Riddle off. Adeuce are dueling Riddle. Ace decks Riddle and claims his last straw. Trey is the one calling out to Riddle as he's losing it. It's the members of Heartslabyul who gather around Riddle when he reawakens following the OB. (I'm not going to go through and list off what happens in every single book, but I'm sure you can think of many other instances... Lilia insulting Leona, Deuce and Epel having the heart-to-heart on the beach, Octavinelle's plot against Jamil, the twins checking up on Azul post-OB, etc.) To me, it feels like it is the boys and their bonds with one another responsible for the change, not Yuu's involvement. Yuu is usually along for the ride and actually does and says very little despite all the fandom jokes about "being the school's unpaid but overworked therapist" or Crowley's shallow claim that Yuu can help the boys learn to cooperate (which feels more like a vague ruse only shown in the prologue to shoehorn Yuu into the plot). There's actually very little in-game that shows them being active in helping the students change for the better. Much of the time, the boys can resolve their own struggles to get along without Yuu being there (like all those pair-ups in book 6–sure, it may have taken a while, but the fact remains that they did eventually resolve their own issues and cooperate without Yuu having to orchestrate for them; this also happens many times in events like Port Fest, Wish Upon a Star, Ghost Marriage, the Halloween events, etc). A very common complaint (at least among English speaking players) is that Yuu isn’t “involved enough” or that they don’t have a big impact on the events of the story. Therefore, most of the boys not feeling close or indebted to Yuu makes sense from their POV. What has Yuu actually and explicitly done to help them? Not much. It’s mainly in individual fan interpretations where Yuu/a Yuusona/an OC in Yuu’s role is actually able to play a more substantial part in each characters’ life and growth. In general, the standard in-game Yuu is more of a "fly on the wall" character that witnesses events unfold rather than someone who plays a large role in each book. The boys are seemingly the main characters, not Yuu. It's just convenient to have Yuu/a blank slate in the story because they, as an outsider, need TWST concepts explained to them (thus making it easier to give exposition to the players who may also be unfamiliar with the information). The first years, by comparison, are closer to Yuu simply because 1) Yuu is implied to be in the same year level as them (so they're more likely to be exposed to one another) and 2) their preestablished relationships with Grim, Ace, and Deuce opens them up more to first year interactions. "Friends of friends", if you will. It makes more sense than Yuu being appreciated and loved by everyone/most people in the main cast of 22ish. (How many people do you know irl that have 22ish significant friends?) They spend the most time together. Everyone else tends to stick to their own groups (with maybe the exception of Heartslabyul, since Yuu is already close with Adeuce). They’re just... not as intimate with Yuu, and therefore not as inclined to find much appreciation for them.

I want to clarify that this doesn’t mean there are zero instances of the characters outside of the first years expressing gratitude toward Yuu. Like, of the OB boys, it’s only Vil who consistently apologizes for the trouble he caused (note though: it’s not specifically to Yuu, but to everyone in the VDC/SDC squad. Yuu is then given prize money from most of the other boys as thanks for letting them crash at Ramshackle… Of those, only Kalim cites being grateful that he was able to stay and have fun with everyone because of Yuu green lighting the decision. This makes sense, as Kalim’s one of the few who wears his heart on his sleeve and is friendly to most. It just isn’t true for the majority of the cast, and we shouldn’t expect it to be.

As late as book 5, you can see characters like Leona not being so happy to be called out to or for Grim to act all buddy-buddy with him. That indicates to me that the rest of the cast is not that close to Yuu + related parties and doesn't have a real reason to be. (Note: I'm not counting character voice lines here as proof of friendliness with Yuu, as it can be argued that the relationships and events explored in the cards don't run in tandem with the main story and are meant more as fanservice for the players.)

Again, while it's not that fun to read in a narrative, it does leave things open-ended for anyone who wants to self-insert or to expand on those blank relationships for their own characters. I believe this is by design to appeal on an individual level to players. You get out of it what you put into it!

[suzukiblu]

Day nine of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

Tim's nucleus of an idea requires some careful math, some even more careful bank fraud, and a lot of planning. Less planning than the supervillain timeline, at least, but still a lot of planning. He has to time it very carefully to make Kon won't have forgotten about the museum heist and the idiot civilian he saved from it, but so there won't be anything suspicious about said idiot civilian having managed to track him down. Admittedly, Kon isn't very hard to track down, but normal high schoolers aren't very good at tracking people down.

Well, not unless they're stalking a celebrity they have a crush on or doxxing a YouTuber who's mildly annoyed them or something.

. . . okay, Tim's probably being too paranoid here. If Kon asks how he found him, all he has to say is he follows him on Twitter or something.

He does actually follow Kon with one of his undercover IDs, because Caroline Hill needed a few social media accounts to round out her existence and giving her ones that she just focused on following celebrities with saved him from having to rig up a bunch of bots and other accounts to be her "friends". It's way easier to just keep up lurker accounts for her and occasionally like a few interesting photos and generally inoffensive comments about current events.

He didn't even deliberately go find Kon's account; Twitter recommended it to him after he followed the Titans and he decided if Bruce asked he could just sell it as a way to keep tabs on a new ally and teammate in a way they wouldn't notice. Caroline Hill also follows Arrowette's official account, even though Tim knows Cissie's mom is the one who actually runs it, plus the Titans' and a couple of other more public-facing heroes'.

So as long as Bruce doesn't notice just how many thirst-trap selfies Kon has posted in wet swimsuits or post-fight ripped-up costumes or with that stupid flirty smirk on, Tim might actually be able to get away with that excuse.

Heteronormativity might protect him, if nothing else.

Maybe.

Look, there's a reason it's Caroline and not Alvin following Kon's account.

Tim works on his idea and his plan and the bank fraud that'll let him crack into his trust fund early without his dad noticing, because while his allowance is frankly appalling and he has a lot more in savings than anyone under the age of twenty probably should, it's not actually enough to fund an entire new life for his stupid sexy teammate, and unfortunately Robin-duties kind of put a crimp in the idea of getting an after-school job, so bank fraud it is.

Just a little touch of supervillain practice, he figures.

Tim works out some reasonable timing and a few different possible approaches to take with Kon, and he tries to stay logical and patient about the whole process even though literally every day this takes is another day that Kon is stuck in a shitty lab that tried to mind-control him and is still actively taking advantage of him, under new management or not. Even Superman doesn't trust Cadmus–understandably–but apparently having an inside man in with them is more important to him than protecting Kon from them? Somehow?

Which is much, much less understandable, to Tim. It's not like Kon volunteered for that. Superman only came to him about it after he took the job for lack of other options. And also he asked him to do it while offering him a real name tied to his family, and while Kon doesn't even know his real name exists.

So yeah, Tim really needs to get a personal kryptonite supply going. Just so much of a personal kryptonite supply. A full rainbow of one, just in case. Like, carefully lead-sealed and code-labeled so Kon will know to avoid it just in case he stumbles across it, but still.

Fuck, Superman better be being mind-controlled right now or something. Or impersonated. Or just somehow compromised.

If he's not, there is not enough Kryptonite in the world for Tim's needs.

So Tim works out his plan, and then he goes back to Metropolis. Specifically, he goes back to Metropolis after Kon updates his Twitter with a selfie that has the Metropolis skyline in the background and a caption about a local café he's about to hit up, which hopefully will give Tim an hour or so to get there before Kon swans off to some random beach or goes back underground with Cadmus or whatever, and also hopefully won't be swarmed with fans or supervillains when he does.

Actually walking up to Cadmus's front door and asking Superboy to come out and play is not in any way in the plan, though if it takes long enough to "find" Kon somewhere plausibly deniably findable for a high school student to manage, Tim's open to the possibility. Fuck knows he's done stupider and weirder and still made it work.

Tim gets to Metropolis in forty-five minutes because of judicious abuse of the Batplane and Bruce being busy on the Watchtower for the day. He'll be telling him he went to see Superboy, since obviously Bruce isn't going to miss the missing jet fuel and Alfred has no reason to keep his mouth shut about it either, but be lying about why he went to see him. As far as Bruce knows, this is business.

Technically, Tim could spin this as business if he had to.

He gets to the café and there aren't any supervillains but there is a small handful of preteen girls on the sidewalk outside giggling over their collection of newly-gained autographs, which means the local supervillains are either behind the times and not properly tuned into social media or just don't have beef with specifically Superboy. Which . . . quite possibly they don't, Tim is realizing. The locals would know how little investment Superman has in Kon, after all, and Kon spends more time either underground with Cadmus or running around with Young Justice than he does actually in the city proper, so it's not like he's had time to collect many personal grudges. Those are probably all back in Hawaii. In Metropolis, he's mostly just been reported as covering petty crimes that'd slipped through the cracks while Superman was busy handling Brainiac or Parasite or having another cold war with Lex Luthor.

It's Kon, of course, so eventually he'll piss off Toyman or accidentally trip over Mxyzptlk or something, but right now, Metropolis mostly just remembers him as that slightly too eager kid who stopped a bomb from killing them all that one time and helped Superman stop Engine City from happening to them. Kind of like Superman has a very enthusiastic but well-intentioned super-powered fanboy kicking around downtown, as opposed to an actual sidekick or any kind of partner that he regularly works with and supports. Steel gets a lot more Metropolis street cred and appreciation, for obvious reasons, but Kon just hasn't been around the city that often since his initial debut. He's a little bit like a tertiary mascot character.

Tim thinks Metropolis is full of idiots, but their standards for vigilantism were set by a man who can bench-press a planet, so he supposes it makes sense that they see a teen idol telekinetic as a charming little side character and not really anyone too impressive in his own right.

No wonder Kon ran off to Hawaii the first chance he got after Superman came back to life, though.

Though in retrospect, why did Superman let him?

Tim walks into the café in civilian clothes and immediately spots Kon at a table in the back and gets a very sharply assessing eye from the woman behind the counter. He doesn't patronize her by pretending to be here to order anything and just heads straight for Kon.

She watches him, and so do a couple of assorted patrons that might be regulars. Tim wonders if Kon's a regular himself, or if Metropolis is just more protective of its Supers than he'd previously realized. Kon isn't here often enough for him to have really looked too closely into it.

Kon doesn't look up from his phone or his mostly-empty plate and mug; it looks like he's playing a cell phone game or something similar. Tim debates the best way to introduce himself, since he doubts Kon will immediately recognize him, but before he can–

"This better be worth ditching out on the refill I just ordered," Kon says distractedly without even glancing up.

"Sorry?" Tim says, a little bemused, and then Kon does look up and startles a little, looking surprised.

"Shit, sorry, thought you were somebody else," he says. "Blame the coat."

"You weren't looking at my coat," Tim says, looking down at it himself in vague mystification anyway. It's just a coat. It's long and dark and on the heavy side, but that's literally the only notable things about it.

"I don't think you understand how TTK works," Kon says, lowering his phone with a wry smirk. "I don't have to look at you to see you, man."

. . . well, that's definitely an application of tactile telekinesis that Tim wasn't previously aware of.

He's just going to try not to think too hard about any implications of Kon's telekinetic field potentially being in constant passive contact with literally everything and everyone around. Especially not him.

If he's lucky, he'll be able to forget that new bit of knowledge as anything but an unfortunate new angle to his occasional sex dreams and just leave it at that.

"Oh," Tim says, feeling vaguely faint and still trying very hard not to think too hard about this new bit of knowledge. "Uh, that's . . . cool. Um. Can I talk to you? Er–please?"

"Need another museum un-robbed?" Kon asks, and Tim is genuinely surprised to be so immediately recognized. It's been over a week, Kon saves people's lives every day, and they'd barely even spoken.

"Not so much," he says. "I just wanted to thank you again. Um. Properly, I mean."

Kon tilts his head, a brief flicker of curiosity flashing through his eyes, then grins up at him.

"I told you, man, it's no big," he says. "It's just what I do, you know?"

"I know, yeah," Tim says. "But I still appreciate it. Can I cover your lunch for you?"

He figures that's a subtle little nudge towards what he wants out of this conversation. Get a foot in the door and all; set some expectations. Or at least try to work up to it.

"I don't know, can you?" Kon says with another brief flash of curiosity, though his grin doesn't change.

"I mean, you're a superhero so I assume you could stop me if you wanted, but otherwise I'm not really seeing any obstacles there," Tim replies reasonably. Kon laughs a lot more brightly than Tim usually gets to see him laugh, which is incredibly distracting, but the people glaring bloody murder at his back finally start letting up.

"I dunno, you're pretty cool under pressure," Kon says with a sly smirk. "Maybe I couldn't."

Tim hates his useless brain and all the totally inappropriate thoughts it immediately conjures up about various options for getting one over on Kon, because of course all of said options are sexy options. Kon's smirking at him all sly and teasing and Tim just made him laugh; there is literally no possible way they could not be.

God, he's going to be thinking about this for their entire next training session, isn't he. That's gonna be mortifying as fuck.

"I think you're underestimating yourself," he says. "You handled those assholes at the museum like they were nothing."

"Well, they weren't exactly Intergang," Kon says wryly.

"Still," Tim says. "The only casualty of an armed robbery and hostage situation was a vase."

"Apparently a very important vase, according to the papers," Kon says, making a face. "Superman told me I need to be more careful next time."

"Over a vase?" Tim says incredulously. He doesn't care how important the stupid vase was, Kon was busy protecting his skull from bullets. The vase's untimely demise is mildly unfortunate at best.

"Well, he wouldn't have broken it," Kon says with a shrug, picking up his mug to knock back the last of his drink. It looks like hot chocolate, not coffee.

"Neither did you," Tim points out. "You're not the one who freaked out and dropped their gun."

"Tell that to Superman," Kon snorts, briefly eyeing his empty mug before setting it back down. Then he shrugs again and grins again too, leaning forward a bit towards Tim. "It's whatever, man, no big deal. Wanna sit?"

Tim isn't actually sure what to do with that offer, but it would be helpful for making his pitch, so . . .

Though he doesn't know why Kon's making it, to be honest.

Still, no time to be looking the gift horse in the mouth, so Tim takes him up on it and sits down across from him. Kon looks weirdly pleased about it, for some reason. Tim still doesn't know why, but isn't gonna question it.

"Thanks," he tries.

"Pleasure's all mine," Kon says, flashing him a grin as he rests his chin in a hand. Tim remains mystified as to why he seems so pleased and why he even remembers him at all, but . . . okay, sure. This might as well happen. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Tim Drake," Tim says, feeling increasingly mystified.

"Nice to meet you, Tim," Kon says. "You know, without any weird magic goats or guns to anyone's head being involved."

Honestly, the magic goat and the gun to his head were both less weird in Tim's personal frame of reference than Kon's apparent interest in chatting him up in this trendy Metropolis café is, but whatever. It's useful, so he's gonna make full use of it.

[hellfirenacht]

Water Balloons

Summary: You’ve been dating Eddie for a few months, but never talked about the future.

Tags: Eddie x Reader, sfw, fluff, neither reader or eddie want kids, mentions of breeding kink but it’s Reader being a little shit, NO ACTUAL KINKS INDULGED IN, no use of y/n, fem!reader

Notes: I have nothing against breeding kinks or parent!Eddie fics. But this is for anyone who does NOT enjoy those specific things. 

Bassed off of this post by @deathbecomesthem 

You and Eddie laid on the roof of his van, a blanket under you both as you stared up at the sky. The two of you had been watching the late summer sun slowly disappear over the horizon in shades of fiery reds and oranges. Now the two of you stared at the stars above, creating new constellations as your fingers intertwined. 

This had been the best summer of your life. Eddie had asked you out the second he ran off the stage in his graduation gown, diploma in hand. You had barely said yes before slamming your lips against his. He’d been waiting two years to ask you out, not wanting you to have to explain to people that you were in your early 20s and dating a high schooler. 

Summer days were stretched with Eddie visiting you at work, day long games of dungeons and dragons, hanging out at the pool, and driving around with music blasting. Nights had been endless memories of the Hideout, watching him play, sneaking into his trailer when Wayne was at work, and long conversations that would only end when the sun came up. 

You didn’t think it could be better than this, which is why you had been putting off this conversation for so long. 

Eddie was talking about how he’d snuck into the High School to play Dustin’s latest one-shot. Without Eddie as the DM, the other members had been taking turns running different smaller campaigns. 

“The kid has imagination.” Eddie said, his hand giving yours a squeeze. You could feel the clunky rings on his fingers digging into your skin but you had grown used to the feeling by now. “He always threw me off when I was in charge but he’s on a whole other level as the DM.” 

“Did anyone catch you sneaking in or out?” you asked, looking at the small sliver of moon above. 

“Not a soul.” he looked over at you and grinned. “Besides, what would they do? Expel me?” 

“Arrest you for trespassing.” you nudged him with your own grin. “Remember, I don’t have bail money.”

“I’d break out.” Eddie said. “Get myself a spoon and start digging.” 

You giggled and ran your thumb over the back of his hand. You’d always had a thing for his hands before, but after dating they were one of your favorite parts about him. His fingertips were rough and calloused from playing guitar, but the rest of his hand was smooth and soft from the lotion you’d always put on him when you applied it to yourself. He used to pretend he hated it, but now he always offered his hands whenever you pulled out your lotion. 

“I ran into Cass Finnigan earlier.” you said, trying to keep your tone casual, as if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest. Things were going so good, why ruin it?

“Cass?” Eddie sounded surprised. “Huh, I haven’t seen her since she graduated."

“She’s pregnant. Probably about three months.” you said, your voice going a little quiet. The pause between the two of you was closer to term than Cass. 

“Yeah?” You could hear a strain in Eddie’s voice that you wish you knew what it meant. Was that stress? Yearning? Gas? Most times Eddie wore his emotions on his sleeve but your own anxiety was clouding your reading of him.  

“Yeah.” you echoed. “Surprised me, considering how young we are.”

“Too young.” Eddie said, and you felt him shift next to you. 

“Way too young.” 

The silence between you stretched miles, each of you trapped deep inside of your minds as you thought about a former classmate's pregnancy. 

You decided to rip the bandaid off.

“I don’t want kids.” You said, staring harder at the sky. You held your breath, waiting for the shoe to drop. Kids had never been something that appealed to you, not in a million years. The idea of children, pregnancy, parenthood, none of it sounded rewarding or exciting. It only filled you with dread and anxiety. 

You’d lost boyfriends over it, partners that you had really liked. They all said the same thing. That you were still young, still in school, of course you didn’t want kids now. You’d change your mind. 

You never did though. 

As you held your breath, Eddie deflated next to you. Shit, this was going to end the same. He was going to repeat those same tired lines and you’d have to break this off. 

Then Eddie started laughing.

“Oh thank Christ.” he said, rubbing his face. “I was terrified you were dropping a hint that you wanted to start a family.” 

“What? Oh no- Eddie. Eddie, no.” you shook your head quickly, the tension in your body starting to ease up a little. “But I mean it, Eddie. I don’t want kids. Ever. Like, ever ever. I don’t want pregnancy, I don’t want to adopt... I don’t want to be a parent.” 

“Me either.” Those two words could have knocked the wind out of you. 

You sat up and looked down at him. Eddie looked so pretty with his long hair splayed on on the blanket and brown eyes that reflected the stars that you had just been looking at. 

“Do you mean that?” you asked firmly. “Because I mean it.”

Eddie sat up and faced you, not letting go of your hand. “I’m not dad material.” he said. “I never have been, and I never will be. Being a parent scares the shit out of me. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a kid even if I had one.” 

“I think you need to feed it sometimes.” you gave him a smile. “Take it for walks twice a day and teach it not to poop on the floor.” 

Eddie laughed, and pushed you down so that he was on top of you. “No, that’s me you’re thinking of.” he joked. Moving his legs on either side of your hips. 

“Oh, I hope you’re housebroken, Munson.” you laughed. “Otherwise I want a refund.” 

“Sorry, I don’t do returns. You know this.” he kissed your cheek.

“You’re so fucking weird.” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I believe the word you're looking for is freak, sweetheart.” 

Your fingers ran through his hair and he closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face. “You’re really okay with that?” you asked. “I know we’ve only been dating a few months, but I don’t- I’m not just dating you to date you. I want this to be real. If you want kids, we can stop this whole thing and-”

Eddie didn’t let you finish, cutting you off with a kiss. “No returns.” he said firmly before kissing you again. “I don’t want kids.” Kiss. “You don’t want kids.” Kiss.

You couldn’t resist messing with him, and looked up at him with a grin that Eddie learned quickly meant trouble. 

“Oh but Daddy, don’t you wanna knock me up?” you said, batting your eyelashes. The look on Eddie’s face was priceless as he looked at you like you’d eaten a bug. He tried to get off you but you grabbed him and pulled him back. “Come on, Eds, let’s make Granny Eckard right and get some Munson Jr. Jrs running around!”

“Absolutely not, oh no. Get off me, woman!” Eddie struggled to pry you off, but you just held him tighter. 

“Don’t you wanna... uh....be my Daddy and also be the father of my children?” you laughed, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I think my poor dick just went into early retirement.” Eddie said dramatically. “I may never get it up again because of this conversation. And what will you do then, hm?”

“You have fingers and a tongue still.” you wiggled your eyebrows. “And I have plenty of toys if those go limp, too- MMFFF...!”

Eddie had covered your mouth with his hand, and despite how pale he had gone for a second he was now laughing hard. “Stop talking. You’ve abused your talking privileges for the night.” Eddie looked down at you. “I’m gonna let go, and you’re gonna stop making it weird. Can you do that?”

You nodded, still shaking with your laughter. It was tempting to keep going, but you wanted to check just one more time. 

His hand pulled off your mouth and you both sat up again, your giggles echoing in the small park that you were in. 

“I mean it.” Eddie said, taking your hand again. “I don’t want kids either. I could live the rest of my life with just you and I’d be happy.”

Your heart jumped up in your throat. “The rest of your life...?” 

Eddie realized what he said quickly. “I mean, you and I have been friends for years and I know that the whole dating thing is new for us but... yeah. I know I’m not exactly Mr. Romantic, but...”

That was enough for you, and you took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently. “So... kids no, but open to marriage?” 

“Not right now.” he said. “Later.” 

“Aww, am I not enough for a whirlwind, runaway marriage?” you smiled. “Not gonna drive me to the courthouse right now and make an honest woman out of me?”

“Considering how your specialty was always a bluff check, I doubt anyone could make an honest woman out of you.” Eddie snorted. 

“I guess you’re worth the wait.” your leaned closer to him. “You were always worth the wait.” 

“You’re gonna make me blush.” Eddie said, cupping your cheek and kissing you softly. “You know... since we’ve agreed that kids are off the table, I do have a half used box of condoms in the back of the van that could be used right now.” 

“Oh, and what happened the the other half of the box?” you smirked, knowing full well what happened. 

“Well, you see sweetheart, a few weeks ago we decided to have a water balloon fight but we ran out of balloons so me and Jeff had this idea-” 

“Eddie no!” you laughed, smacking his arm. “Seriously? Where was I during all this?”

“You abandoned me.” 

“I was at work wasn’t I? Remind me to quit tomorrow.” 

Eddie pulled you in closer “Well that’s only where a few of them went. The rest went to this really hot chick who somehow decided to take a chance on the biggest freak in Hawkins.” 

“Lucky her.” you said, pecking his lips. “So... wanna show me these makeshift water balloons? For science, of course.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Eddie said with a smile. 

Eddie helped you down from off the top of his van, and you just knew that this was it. No matter what happened after tonight, you knew that you both were in it for the long haul. No need to change or force things just because of what everyone said you should do. From then on, it would be just you and Eddie, and that would be enough.  

[izvmimi]

there was a time where oliver aiku used to love discussing his love life in interviews. for some people all press is good press, and the reputation of being a ladies' man, called anything from a casanova to playboy to straight up rake, rarely upset him. in fact he reveled in it, delight in his mismatched eyes whenever reporters would tease out the details of his most recent rendezvous. models, actresses, the occasional influencer who gave him what she marketed on only fans for free...

he loved to discuss all of it. after all, what egotistical man shies away from discussing his conquests?

but this time, once the subject comes up of who he's been last seen in the media with, all he can think of is you, and your smile, and the loving way you've wrapped your arms around the second-highest grossing actor this year. once lauding his success and status over you, you're far out of his reach, cavorting with stars that out-league him.

he should have seen this coming. he always knew that you were beautiful, after all. even when you cried as he dumped you for easily accessible pussy, expecting that your crush on him since childhood would last for the rest of your life.

oliver breaks hearts, he doesn't get his heart broken.

"so, it seems like you continue to live up to your reputation, with no less than six prominent characters you've been entangled with recently. can you tell us what the rumors are?"

oliver smiles, palm scratching at the scruff on his chin. he remembers that you'd once told him he needed a cleaner image and that possibly started with considering at least shaving for interviews. he hasn't done that today - in fact, he hasn't done anything for you, has he?

"no comment," he jokes. "i don't kiss and tell."

the reporter, a man this time, grins in the way that men who size each other up by how wide they manspread or how big their dick is or how much money is in their pocket does. but oliver's grip on the armrests of his chair tightens. he's begging internally for the topic to change, any way to avoid digging himself into a bigger pit than he already is.

the last time he saw you in person, you were breathtaking. was it revenge that made you truly blossom or is the regret of the fact that he can no longer have you transformative?

"fuck off," you'd said, promptly, the moment you saw him standing at your door in the middle of the night. there was a time, when you were high-schoolers that you only spoke to him softly; there was a time, in your early 20s, where he could simply smile sheepishly at you, pushing shaggy hair back and you'd believe anything he said.

"aren't you happy i came to you first this time?" he'd been quick to answer. the joke doesn't land, and for the first time in forever, you don't even crack a smile.

he remembers telling you he had options, and realizing that in truth, you were always the one who could aim higher.

"you can do better," you remind him of his own words. your face is still made up, you're back from a photoshoot. your career soars and his stays stagnant. he's trying his best, he's not lacking in skill, but for now your star shines far brighter.

he didn't tell you then, couldn't bring his mouth to utter the words, but it's not true.

he cannot do better than you.

oliver grins, and pushes the thought of you out of his mind.

oliver, the man who cannot fall in love, gives the public what they want.