#and I wrote it nice and neatly to be scanned in later when the second half is done as well

[passion8alot]

Feeling good about my math class this semester. Doing the RSA cipher which means prime number decomposition, fermat factorisation, euclid theorum, etc

Spent way too long on the first question of the assessment but in my defence, I was making small stupid mistakes that was throwing the whole thing out.

Next one using mathematical induction and proof work which I am very rusty at so will do a catch up and then tackle second half of assessment :]

[tbd1aiahe]

FOOD GONE COLD ⊹ ࣪ ˖ - B.E (PART 2)

Angst .ᐟ

Warnings: cursing?? angst gets resolved. not sure about anything else.

A/N - this is so ASS but whatever

She didn't know how to make it up to you. Really, she didn't. But she knew that she had to at least try. She looked around at the disheveled kitchen, still messy from when you spent so long making that pasta just how she likes it. 

Okay, maybe cleaning the kitchen is a start. It's at least something, right? She hastily started tidying up the area. Washing dishes, cleaning countertops, closing drawers, doing anything possible while she tries to think of ways to show you how much she loves you. Her eyes fell onto her car keys abandoned on the counter. 

Back in your room, (LIKE THE WEAK BITCH YOU ARE) you were holding back the urge to go back to the kitchen and run into her arms. You had every right to be mad, but you still felt shitty for being mad at her at all. You needed to be strong and not give in so easily. You owed it to yourself to be upset, even if all you wanted was to be in her arms. You tossed and turned in bed, clutching a pillow hoping it would fill the space Billie left. The faint buzz of your car engine starting made your heart drop. Was Billie leaving? You heard the car pull out of the driveway. You were proud of yourself for standing your ground—for not crumbling into her the second she looked sorry—but it didn't tame the fear of her leaving. In fact, it made that fear grow. 

🤍~ 

Around 30 minutes later, you heard the car return to the garage. The issue was you didn't know if you should feel relieved or worried. After the front door opened, you heard ruckus out in the kitchen area—water running, cabinet doors opening and closing again, and at one point you heard Billie yell ‘OW, SHIT! MY TOE!’  

Back in the kitchen, Billie had in fact stubbed her toe. That minor inconvenience broke the dam for her. The unshed tears she was holding back the entire drive to the store to pick up flowers for you came flowing all at once. Despite the tears, she finished placing the flowers into a nice vase and set it up on the kitchen counter. She fumbled to grab a piece of paper and neatly write down some apologies. 

She had so many thoughts running throughout her head, but the loudest one was the thought you might not forgive her this time around. She had never meant to make you feel small, and she really hoped you knew that. Or that she could remind you of that tonight. After wiping her tears, she gently placed the notes she wrote next to the beautiful flowers. 

She didn't even bother trying to get into your shared room. Without even grabbing a blanket, she flopped down onto the couch and hoped and prayed you would forgive her. Eventually, her heart calmed and her eyes fluttered shut. Her shallow breathing evened out and she drifted to sleep. 

You're not sure how much time passed. Hours, maybe? Doesn't matter. All that mattered is you hadn’t heard much activity outside your door in a while, and you couldn't sleep. Might as well go check things out, right? 

Slowly but carefully, you slipped out of your room and padded down the hall. Your eyes scanned the area, landing on the sparkling clean kitchen.  The scent of your favorite flowers filled your nostrils. Oh, is that where she went? To pick up flowers for you? You walked over to the vase, taking a big whiff of the pedals. That’s when you noticed the paper folded on the edge of the counter. Your hands trembled as you unfolded the note. 

‘I love you so much. I’m sorry.’

‘I never wanted to make you feel lonely.’

‘Please let me fix this.’

‘I’ll be here. If you want me. I love you.’

Your lips quivered as your eyes scanned the words on the page. She did this for you? She cleaned the kitchen—something you hate doing—got flowers for you, and genuinely felt bad and wanted to fix it? You didn't let the tears fall. No, you bit them back. Your eyes scanned the room, falling on the couch. There Billie was. Zero blanket or pillow, fast asleep. She didn't look peaceful, no—she looked troubled, even in sleep. Curled up into herself like a child. 

You stood there, frozen and torn between your stubbornness and the ache in your chest that only grew stronger upon seeing her like this. You weren’t blind—you could see how hard she was being on herself. She didn’t just say she was sorry. She showed it. She showed it in all the dishes she washed, the flowers she handpicked just for you, and the letter she clearly struggled to get just right. 

And now there she was, banished to the couch, not even a pillow to comfort her. It was as if she didn’t think she even deserved the luxury of comfort right now. With a heavy sigh, you tiptoed to the hall closet and pulled out a spare blanket. You draped it over her with the utmost of care, trying not to wake her. But as you tucked it snugly around her shoulders, she stirred the faintest bit. A soft sound escaped her mouth. 

“Mm?” She looked up at you, eyes heavy with sleep. 

“It’s just me,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.” She shifted slightly, accepting the blanket immediately. She stared at you through her lashes—wet from tears—and sniffled a little. 

“Did you read my note?” She murmured, voice tired and small. You nodded and gently stroked her hair. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

She looked at you with uncertainty in her eyes, silently asking for you to keep speaking your mind. 

“I don’t want to go to sleep mad,” you finally admitted. “I can tell that you’re really sorry.”

Billie shifted slightly, sitting up a little. “I fucked up.” She said flatly. “I let myself get too engrossed in my music. I didn’t spend time with you the way you needed—the way either of us needed.” 

Your fingers rested in her lap, nervously fiddling with an unraveled string of the blanket. “I’m not mad that you love your job. I love your music and I love that you love what you do. I just missed you. Missed your touch. Your laugh. I missed feeling like I mattered.” You let out a half laugh, half sigh of relief. 

“You do,” she cut in, voice firm yet desperate. “You do matter. God, you matter so much. I just forgot to show you that, like a fucking idiot.” 

You took a moment to let her words sink in. You had so much shit you wanted to say. Out of a million thoughts swirling around in your head, only one made it to the surface. 

“Come to bed,” you blurted out suddenly. 

Billie looked at you, searching for any hints of hesitation or regret in your voice. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m not saying everything’s okay,” you admit honestly. “But I don’t want you suffering out here alone. Come to bed. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Together.” 

All she could muster was a small nod. You offered her your hand, and she gladly took it. You helped her up, guiding her to the bed, her hand in yours. No relationship is perfect. Couples fight, that's the bottom line. But you and Billie always get through the rough patches. because neither of you could live without the other. 

For the rest of the night, you laid tangled in each other, snug as a bug in a rug. You basked in the warmth of your bodies cuddled together, the argument slowly washing away altogether.

[hydrangeapartridge]

Title: Mind Body and Soul

Pairing: Mage!Shinsou x reader

I wrote for Shinsou again! Link to AO3 here

Summary: Once upon a time there was you: a nobody, a refugee from a country devastated by Dabi’s undead army, serving as a maid in king Todoroki’s castle. There, fate decided you would cross path with the mysterious and dreaded court mage Hitoshi Shinsou. Little did you know that particular encounter would change your life forever.

Rating: M

Tagged people <3: @maple-syrup-with-strawbewwies @moonlitmoonpie

Chapter 3: The Mage (under the cut!) - (link to chapter 1 and 2)

“The King will grant us an audience tomorrow” Was the first announcement Shinsou made when you joined him in his tower the next day.

He then eyed you up and down, assessing your accoutrement. Knowing you were supposed to make an outing in the city, you had forgone your housemaid attire for a plain beige dress, simple but comfortable.

“My apprentice should be dressed appropriately for this occasion. You need a special outfit to attend.” Shinsou commented, one slender finger resting on his chin as he thought about it. “It would also be a good opportunity to renew your wardrobe. Mages have a higher status to live up to. You cannot run around the castle looking like a poor stray thing” He added, gesturing to your clothes.

If first you felt offended by his critique of your attire, you didn’t let it get to you too much. You never got the opportunity to own nice clothes, and the prospect was tempting you very much. Compared to your rags, Shinsou’s robes were simply stunning; made of a rich dark velvet; sober but elegant. You were envious of him on that point, so you let his comment about your appearance slide for now.

Shinsou neatly wrote something on a piece of parchment, signing it with a flourish and a wax seal before handing it to you.

“You will find the tailor named Monoma. He will make sure that you are at least presentable for tomorrow’s hearing” You nodded your head and he continued with his instructions. “Once you are done, meet me back here. I will accompany you to town for supplies”

Upon leaving, you noticed that the tray of food the kitchen staff brought earlier for your teacher had gone cold and was still untouched, just like the one brought the previous night.

Finding Monoma was pretty easy. You knew most of the lower staff members, including the seamstresses, so you asked them about him. They made a weird face before pointing you to his workshop.

You later understood their grimace when you found yourself faced with an eccentric blond man wearing a fancy lacy suit with a frilly jabot collar.

“Are you lost little one?” The man asked you when he appeared from behind his desk, immediately taking your hand in his as if to soothe you.

You quickly took your hand back and shoved the parchment Shinsou gave you into the man’s chest before stepping away from him. “I’m not lost Sir. Mage Shinsou sent me” You still politely replied.

Monoma raised a thin blond eyebrow before he proceeded to scan the letter. Its content seemed to amuse him, his eyes holding a mischievous glint when he looked back to you.

“My my... When did Shinsou get himself such a cute apprentice?” He asked, and you felt yourself flush when he started inspecting you from head to toe, prowling around you like a predator.

You squeaked when he touched the fabric of your dress, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Do not fret little mage. I know exactly what you need! You entered here a dull duckling, you will get out transformed into a pretty swan” He announced with an exaggerated flourish before he clapped his hands twice. “Measurements please!” He called out to the seemingly empty room. However, the next second, two women in pretty blue and pink maid costumes appeared from nowhere and captured you to take your measurements.

Once you had been measured from absolutely all angles, Monoma’s associates urged you to try on a long robe made of warm deep green cotton. The sleeves were large and the fabric was soft. Delicate silver embroidery details made the whole look simple but much more refined than your previous attire. The girls helping you change made you step in front of a large mirror back in Monoma’s workshop, and you almost didn’t recognize your reflection. You looked noble, more respectable than a random housemaid. Delight filled you as you admired yourself. Since you were forced to flee your country, you had resolved yourself to a life of poverty and hard labour. You were grateful to simply have survived the destruction of your country, and you never expected an opportunity to up your social status would have arisen. You almost felt glad you barely escaped being eaten by a demon.

“That’s much better” Monoma commented proudly, inspecting you from head to toe again. “One small detail is missing though”

The blond stepped even closer to you and ran his fingers near your ear. The next second, a large lacy ribbon had appeared in his hand, as if by magic. Impressed, you watched him place a leather belt around your waist, and tie it securely with said ribbon.

“There, much better” He nodded, satisfied with his work.

“Are you a mage too Sir?” You asked, excitedly, and he chuckled while his employees shook their heads in despair.

“I have many tricks up my sleeve little mage, but I am sadly not like you” He replied. “If I was, I wouldn’t be here making clothes. I would live a grandiose life atop the best ranking sorcerers of Yuei’s Academy!”

Monoma seemed to be a very chatty person, and he simply did not stop talking to you, even though he was finished fixing your outfit.

“I have to say I am surprised the Academy is not where you are headed dear. Every single soul that turns out to be gifted with magic is sent there. Shinsou detected many of them, but never kept one as an apprentice before. I’m admittedly curious to know what makes you special?” He made a dramatic pause, catching his breath before asking you “So, tell me little mage; what do you have that the others didn’t?”

Monoma was standing too close to you to your liking, and if you found his antics and tricks funny at first, you didn’t like his questions. You didn’t like them because you simply had no answer to give him. In truth, you didn’t have a clue as to why Shinsou decided to make you his apprentice. It could be because of that strange ritual; but it felt like a secret you should keep, not to divulge to the tailor.

From what you gathered, Shinsou was only mildly satisfied with your learning, and he said himself that you were too old. Maybe they wouldn’t have accepted such an old student at the academy?

“I…” You started, annoyed and suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know” You finally answered truthfully.

Your eyes fell onto the fabric of your beautiful dress. All of this seemed too nice, like a dream. What if the king decided you didn’t deserve it? What if Shinsou realized you weren’t up to his expectations. Could he get bored of you? Could all those nice things get taken from you?

Your gloomy silence had Monoma cease his chatting and go back to business. “The dress for the ceremony will be ready tomorrow morning just before the event. Come back an hour early for adjustments” He only told you, the ghost of his touch on your shoulder driving you away from your worried train of thoughts.

“See you later little mage” The tailor waved at you and his two maids bowed down respectfully.

Only when you were stepping into the cold stone corridors of the castle did you realize you didn’t properly thank them.

When you returned to Shinsou’s tower, despite your knocking on his office’s door before entering, he didn’t immediately turn to look at you.

“Took you long enough” He absent-mindedly commented while rummaging through the mess on one of his tables. “Are you ready to go?” He was looking for something, that turned out to a small satchel that he quickly attached to his belt before turning your away.

“I think I am yes” You answered and then his eyes fell on you, inspecting you again from head to toe.

He was flustered from all his rummaging around and it was a little out of breath that he said. “Well, that’s a much better fitting outfit for a mage apprentice” He nodded his head in approval but quickly looked away, passing you to exit the room. “Now that we’re all set, let’s head out”

You almost felt disappointed that he didn’t have more to say about your new clothes, but you supposed men weren’t too interested in those matters. You quickly followed after Shinsou before he outpaced you. Your young teacher seemed to be in a hurry.

“Are we running there or are you trying to escape someone maybe?” You asked between a few laboured breaths. There was a corseted upper part inside your dress that made it harder to breath than in your usual clothes.

“I do not wish to come across the servants. Or the nobles for that matter. Given it is lunchtime, we will avoid most of the crowd. I’m taking advantage of this” Shinsou answered, his pace not slowly a bit.

You smiled at his asocial nature. “I’m surprised to see you’re more afraid of the servants than they are of you” You teased. “They believe you do horrible experiments on people inside your gloomy tower you know?”

You had long since gone down the stairs and the guards now opened the doors for the both of you to exit into the courtyard.

“I know that” Shinsou sighed. “Every time I detect a gifted person in the castle and have them sent to the academy they come up with new stories of how I did something horrible to them”

So that was where the people who disappeared went? To the academy? You were surprised by this piece of information and you purposefully avoided telling him that you once were tempted to believe the rumours uttered amongst the servants.

“And why didn’t you send me to the Academy?” You asked once you were both alone inside a carriage headed to the town’s market. You were curious about the answer, ever since your conversation with Monoma.

“Do you wish to go study there?” Shinsou asked, his head propped onto his opened palm as he lazily looked away from the landscape to look at you.

“I didn’t say that” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “And you didn’t answer my question”

Shinsou took a moment to ponder his answer, his amethyst gaze boring into yours until you felt the urge to look away. No one ever looked at you so intensely. It felt like he was truly seeing you; even seeing through you, and it was nerve wracking. Part of you still wondered if he somehow could read thoughts. You’d have to ask him one day if magic could do that.

“The others didn’t need to be saved from the creature from the Otherworld that they unleashed” Shinsou then told you, and you straightened up in your seat, shocked.

“That would never have happened if you didn’t leave dangerous artefacts unsupervised in the mess you call a working desk!” You replied, outraged.

Your anger was all but fuelled by Shinsou’s lack of response. He kept watching you, unfazed, ignoring your comment. A bump in the road made him look outside and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“We’re almost there” Shinsou observed.

When you finally cooled down, you wondered if he kept you by his side because he feared you might get into more trouble if left alone? Or again, because of that ritual you knew nothing about? He never fully answered your question, and the events of that first night with the Djinn were a blurry mess in your memories from how scared you were.

You soon were distracted from Shinsou’s nonchalant attitude when the buzzy streets of the market appeared before your eager eyes.

Since your exodus from your home country, you only ever lived in the royal castle. Never did you get to explore the neighbouring town, or any other place in this new country. So it was with excitement and bright eyes that you followed a very blasé Shinsou through the colourful displays of food, jewellery and other bric-à-brac.

“Focus apprentice” Shinsou told you, his tone barely hiding a hint of amusement when he dragged you by your sleeve to help you avoid running into an old woman. “You should watch where you are going before there is an accident”

Shinsou walked close to you, keeping an eye on you so you wouldn’t get lost.

“Over there” He urged you inside a small shop you never would have noticed without him. His fingers on your back gently brushed the fabric of your dress, just under your belt, his careful touch guiding you through the shelves and various displays of magical items. Everything in there was breath-taking. You didn’t even know where to look, your attention getting lost between enchanted music instruments playing beautiful tunes by themselves, flying parchments, tea-pots serving tea by themselves, and colourful displays of various objects of which you couldn’t imagine the purpose.

Shinsou called your name at some point, and you focused back on him, although with difficulty. The corners of his lips were upturned when you met his eyes. If you kept looking around avidly, he seemed to stay focused on you.

“Here, choose the one you prefer” He told you, pointing to a large display of writing quills made from various materials and coming in different sizes and shapes.

You observed the quills, wondering why they could be special enough to be sold in a magic shop. Shinsou sensed your curiosity and gave you the answer without you asking.

“Those are enchanted writing quills. When correctly used they can write your thoughts directly in organized notes and at incredible speed” He offered and your eyes widened. To think such a small object held such power was unbelievable. “I think it’s the type of item that could greatly help you in your studies” Shinsou commented while you browsed the quills, trying their weight, testing how they felt between your fingers. “Sadly no magical item I know of can help you read faster. That would have to come with practice.”

You ended up choosing a quill adorned with the pretty feather of an exotic bird. Shinsou grabbed a few other supplies for you, and then he lost himself in browsing the large collection of books on display while you were more interested in the many enchanted objects the shop had to offer.

Your teacher finally decided it was time to leave when he had picked up no less than five new books to bring home. He looked excited to read them, and it was almost cute.

Upon paying, Shinsou took out a large purse filled with gold from his satchel. Only then did you realize how pricey magical items were, and just how rich the king’s mage must be.

The owner of the shop, a woman with deep wrinkles and almost completely white hair was unfazed by the amount of coin presented to her. However, when she took a closer look at Shinsou’s face, she smiled, obviously recognizing him.

“Ah young man, long-time no see! I think I have another book that could be of interest to you” She drawled.

She then fetched something from the backroom, an item neatly wrapped in an old blanket. Before unwrapping it, she checked left and right that there were no other prying customers. When she deemed the area safe, she took the book out of its makeshift package. Symbols and runes that were unknown to you filled the beautiful dark leather cover. You only were able to spot a few skulls and bones drawn in a very detailed anatomical manner. That book looked absolutely forbidden.

“So what do you say?” The old woman asked, wriggling her eyebrows.

Shinsou’s long fingers gently, almost reverently traced the cover of the book, right before he quickly pulled the blanket back onto it. “Not interested” He stated coldly.

“What?” The woman squawked, visibly surprised. “But last time yo-”

“You’re mistaken. You must have me confused with somebody else” Shinsou interrupted her, his tone definitive and authoritative. Yet, the old lady didn’t get offended. The focus in her eyes shifted, her clear pupils blurring for a second as she realized her mistake.

“Yes. I was mistaken. I must have taken you for someone else” She said mechanically.

You almost felt embarrassed witnessing this exchange; like there was something wrong with it. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was frustrating.

“Apologies sir. Have a good day” The old woman nodded her head, handing Shinsou some change before she disappeared in the backroom with her book.

You wondered if she was a lunatic, or maybe a little senile. Old age wasn’t kind.

As you exited the shop, you thought back to that book. You couldn’t be certain of it, but you suspected from the symbols on it that it could hold forbidden knowledge. Then why didn’t Shinsou confiscate it? You would have to ask him about it later, when there were no risks of people eavesdropping.

Shinsou dragged you into a few more shops, where every time he bought more books than he did supplies. He was very generous and you didn’t complain that he paid for every piece of parchment and every drop of ink you would be the one using. You could have felt entitled to it, given you were somewhat forced to become his apprentice, but you felt more grateful that he cared about giving you good studying conditions. You still teased him about the books though.

“A mage never stops learning. Books hold much knowledge, and one lifetime isn’t enough to fully understand magic” He replied, flicking his wrist to relieve you of the supplies you were carrying in an effortless spell. Your arms suddenly became empty as your quills, parchments and other artefacts started floating in the air, magically following you and your teacher. Shinsou’s books soon joined your supplies, and people in the streets gave you two funny looks as you passed them; some amused, and some more worried, whispering amongst them.

“Thank you. That was heavy” You breathed and Shinsou only nodded his head in response.

The sun was high in the sky, and with all the excitement of your shopping gone, you suddenly felt very tired. Your pretty dress was warmer than your usual clothes, making you sweat profusely under the afternoon sun, and your throat was dry from thirst. You felt a little dizzy, bordering nauseous and incidentally realized that you hadn’t eaten anything since your breakfast, which consisted of a slice of bread at the crack of dawn.

You hoped that once you would be back in the castle your teacher would set you free for the day. You urgently needed to eat and to clean up, and certainly had no strength left in you for studying today.

Until then, you did your best to follow Shinsou through the crowded market, despite your legs feeling weaker with each passing second. The loud noises around you progressively became more and more muffled, and dark spots blurred your vision. You felt light-headed, and only when your legs gave out under you did it occur to you that you shouldn’t have pushed yourself and should have asked for a break.

A pair of arms caught you before your knees hit the floor and a fresh flowery scent filled your nostrils, as if you were back in Shinsou’s office. If your vision was darkened, your ears still caught a soft worried voice asking if you were alright. You obviously weren’t, but no words came out of your mouth. It was a nice sentiment though, you thought just before you blacked out for a moment.

In a haze you still felt yourself getting carried somewhere, head tilted back, cheek against a soft warm fabric, and an unexpectedly strong touch under your knees.

Your bottom then hit something soft, a hand was placed on your shoulder and then a cold liquid touched your lips. Reflexively, you greedily drank the fresh water offered to you, and as if by magic, your sight progressively returned.

The first thing you saw was Shinsou’s worried gaze. He was kneeling in front of you, his face very close to yours. There was an empty glass in his hand. Were you back at the castle? You couldn’t tell how long you had passed out.

Shinsou’s low voice called your name. “Can you hear me? How are you feeling?”

You blinked, taking notes of your surroundings. An unknown place. Tables, chairs, customers. Loud noises of chatter. Mouth-watering smells of food.

“Where are we?” You asked, voice weak.

The smell of flowers and citrus filled your nostrils again when Shinsou turned his head, his violet curls a little damp from the heat outside.

“The Glen. An inn” He told you. “You had me worried when you fainted. I am very bad at healing magic so I had to resort to basic first aid.”

You nodded your head, processing the information. Then you stomach growled. Loudly.

Shinsou ran a nervous hand through his dishevelled hair, sitting back on his heels. “Foolish girl. You should have said something before collapsing” He reprimanded, more disheartened than angry.

Then it all came crashing down on you. The realisation that you had inconvenienced him. That you had fainted and he had to carry you here. He probably thought you were a burden of an apprentice. You felt impossibly embarrassed. Especially when he was leaning so close to you, inspecting you for any injury.

“Sorry” You muttered, your hands coming in front of your face to hide it as you felt the heat of a full face blush rise under your skin.

“It’s fine” Shinsou said, and you heard the rustle of his robes as he got up. “I’m glad you’re feeling better”

Your peeked through your fingers to watch him walk around a small round table before which you were sat. He took a sit across from you, linking his fingers together on the table. He almost looked like he was nervous. “Since we’re here, let’s take a break. I’ll order something to eat”

Your stomach grumbled once more upon that declaration, and you let out a defeated sigh, letting your arms drop to your sides. “Thank you” You muttered, mortified.

You were still a little light-headed and you zoned out while Shinsou ordered a meal for the both of you. In your state you weren’t be able to read a menu, your brain too mushy and slow to process the options to choose from.

Your glass was refilled with water at some point and you greedily drank from it until a plate of food was placed in front of you by a bubbly young woman.

Without thinking, you dug in. You were famished.

“This place is rather popular I hear. A bit noisy for someone recovering from a malaise perhaps, but I couldn’t find better on such short notice” Shinsou told you while he took a small bite from his plate.

“It’s perfect. And this is delicious” You said between two large mouthfuls of food. Your table manners were far from delicate, and Shinsou put down his fork, his appetite probably put down by the sight of your sloppy eating.

“This stew is supposedly a local speciality and a best seller” Shinsou commented. He was unusually talkative. Maybe he felt uneasy watching in silence while you finished your plate.

“I didn’t know what you liked. I am relieved to see you appreciate this dish” He eventually added, and you almost choked on the food you were chewing.

You hastily grabbed your glass of water to help it all down your throat. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire when you met Shinsou’s eyes. He did his best to order something to your liking and you were touched by the gesture.

The worry in the amethyst gaze gauging you turned into something softer.

“Your face is regaining some colour. That is good”

For the very first time, Shinsou was smiling at you. Not one of those sardonic or mischievous smirks that sometimes graced his lips; no, a heartfelt gentle smile.

You couldn’t look at it, not with how it sent the heat from your cheeks spreading to your whole face.

You went back to your food, finishing your plate; leaving it spotless clean. That’s how good it was, and how hungry you had been.

Meanwhile, Shinsou resumed eating, albeit slowly. Taking small breaks between each bite.

“You don’t eat much” You observed once you were done, needing to break the silence that settled between the two of you now that you weren’t occupied anymore.

Shinsou put his fork down before he spoke. His manners, contrary to yours, were impeccable, and you had to wonder if he was of noble upbringing, or if etiquette was part of a mage apprentice’s training. “I tend to forget” He sheepishly told you, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “When I’m too engrossed in studies, time flows by and I happen to skip meals. I also find myself often skipping sleep. I tend to study all night long without noticing”

You were convinced it happened quite often indeed given the permanent dark circles under his eyes. You left Shinsou to his eating, least you wanted to spent the rest of the day in the inn with how he stopped every time you talked to him.

With your recently acquired magic teacher facing you, you had little choice but to look at him. While he ate you observed his well-defined jaw, how white his teeth were, the shape of his lips… He was rather handsome. Not strikingly so, like the prince was for example, but still very above average. Were unrequited affections one of the reason he avoided the other inhabitants of the castle? You never heard any servant praise his looks, but you started to wonder if they ever met him in person.

You looked away from Shinsou’s pale face, feeling you had been staring too long for it to be proper. His cheeks wore more colour too now you noticed. You probably weren’t the only one who had been hungry and tired.

Once he was done with his meal Shinsou paid for everything again. He only nodded his head when you profusely thanked him on the way back to the castle.

Thankfully he didn’t ask you to get back to studying once you finished putting away the supplies you bought, and you hastily excused yourself to go clean up and get ready for a well-deserved rest.

When you went to bed for a nap, tired and spent, just before falling asleep, you strangely felt like you forgot something.

[pascalpanic]

‘Nilla Bean (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x gn!Reader)

Summary: A cowboy in your coffee shop is not the way you’d expected your morning to go, but you’re not complaining; especially not when he’s as attractive as he is.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: talk of food/eating, brief allusions to alcohol, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, I think there’s like a single use of fuck

A/N: okay I’ve been thinking about this FOREVER but I finally went ahead and wrote it!!! hope u guys like it, I’m a sucker for a coffee shop AU as a barista myself :) thx @theteddylupinexperience for helping me name it and motivating me to write it lol

When you started your shift this morning, you’d groaned as you tied the apron around your waist, expecting an uneventful day. Most were. If you were lucky enough to see someone you knew or to have an especially nice customer, you’d consider it a good day. You didn’t know when you walked in that it would be the good day to end all good days: nothing could top this one.

Weekday mornings in the fall aren’t particularly busy. The majority of your customers come around the morning rush, and the remaining ones are usually retirees or house-spouses and their young children. It’s enjoyable, days like these, that don’t require you to dash about the shop.

The only problem, really, is having nothing to do. You clean the coffee grinder, wipe down tables, wipe down everything else, then do it all again. Restocking, usually an endless chore, isn’t even an option; no one’s using anything in the first place. You and your coworkers chat, deep-cleaning the coolers, washing the blender stations, and doing the dirty work. When a customer comes, you’re the lucky one who gets to go take their order and put your task on hold first.

It seems like you’ve done every task twice, even when your manager introduces yet another idea for you to deal with. To bide your time, you prep coffee for later, rearrange the case of pretty little pastries that sits next to your register, and doodle on your station with a paint pen, humming to the soft music playing in the shop.

People come and go, some picking up mobile orders and some ordering from you, some choosing to eat inside and some taking their food to go. You sip your drink happily between customers- a white mocha with caramel.

At one point, you’re in the back and washing dishes when a coworker peeks his head into the back. “Hey, you got someone up front!” He informs you, and you nod and wander out through the swinging doors.

Well. That’s certainly a sight for a Tuesday morning.

The man standing at the register is wearing a painfully well-tailored suit jacket, with gray tweed and patches on the elbows. Beneath it is a white top and a black tie, and the man wears jeans on the bottom half. Interesting.

Perhaps more interesting is the large cowboy hat perched atop his head. The man’s face, below the brim of his Stetson, is incredibly handsome. He has an aquiline nose, a neatly trimmed mustache that wouldn’t work on anyone else, and warm brown eyes that make you smile softly.

“Hi,” you comment as you log into the register. “Are you a part of our rewards program?” You ask as part of your regular spiel.

The man furrows his brow then shakes his head. “Uh, no. No I’m not. Can you sign me up now?” He asks, and his voice makes your chest flutter with the tone. It’s rich and smooth, with a beautiful southern twang.

Looking at your register and back at him, you shake your head. “It’s just an app on your smartphone, really easy,” you tell him.

“Ah, damn,” he groans and pulls it from his pocket. “I’m shit with technology. Why don’t you just… type it in here?” He says, handing you his phone with a notes page open. His thick fingers accidentally lock the phone as he hands it to you.

You tap the screen to wake it and find the background to be a picture of a cute little pig all covered in mud. “Uh, you locked it,” you chuckle. “What’s the password?”

The man looks down shyly. “1-2-3-4. Don’t make fun’a me, I’m like a grandpa with these newfangled phones.”

It’s endearing, you have to admit, and it makes you giggle. “Not a problem. I’m not here to chide you on your security choices,” you shrug. You type in the code and find the app, starting the download for him before handing back his phone. “Can I get a name to start your order?” You ask as you look up at him.

His eyes hold a warmth there, radiating off of his smile. “Whiskey.”

“Your mother named you Whiskey?” You tease as you type in the name, returning back to the main page of beverages. “Some kind of legal name.”

The man shakes his head. “Nah, that’s just what I go by at work.”

Whiskey likes conversation, you notice, and it makes you chuckle a little. “You got a real name then?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow beneath your visor.

The man tips his hat. “Jack Daniels, at your service.” He says and offers you a hand, which you take and shake.

“That’s a lie. You’re telling me your nickname is Whiskey and your real name is a type of whiskey?”

The man shrugs. “My momma had a real funny sense of humor, I guess. My daddy loved the booze so they went with it. I work for Statesman, so I suppose it’s fitting.”

“Ah, the distillery,” you nod with a smile, not grasping the depth of what Statesman actually does. How could you? “Well then, Jack,” you say with an honest grin on your face. “What can I get you to drink?”

Whiskey, Jack, whatever his name is, looks up at the menu, scanning the different beverages. “Well. That sure is a lot of choices. I’m new to the area, so I don’t know the menu yet, and I don’t know the first thing about coffee other than how to make it in a machine,” he admits to you. “What would you recommend, sugar?”

Sugar. Your heart beats a million times faster at the man’s words. You’ve had lots of weird and creepy men call you different things, but you’ve never been flustered and enjoyed it. This man is getting to you, quickly. “Well, how strong do you take your coffee?”

He thinks about that for a second, fiddling with the button on his suit jacket. “Pretty strong. A little sweet, with cream. I usually take it Irish style,” he admits with a chuckle, tapping a belt buckle that you realize is a tiny flask. Jesus. That’s not cheesy.

“Well, we don’t serve alcohol,” you laugh and look down at your screen. “We have all kinds of flavors.” You list them all off, off the top of your head, now staring at the ceiling to recite them all. “And our seasonal drink is pumpkin spice.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Wonderful and all, but what do you like? You seem like you’ve got a good taste, darlin’, tell me what you’d recommend.”

God, these names are going right to where they shouldn’t, especially not when this handsome man is leaning on your counter and flirting with you as he orders his coffee. “I like vanilla.” You shrug.

The man laughs and stands. “I hate to say it, sugar, but I’m not a very vanilla man,” he says, his head tilting down and his dark, sultry eyes peeking out at you from just below the brim. His voice is seductive, implying something else other than the flavor.

Oh fuck. “Oh, not like that,” you laugh as your face floods with warm blood, anxiety coursing through your veins. “Not vanilla in that way.” Fuck, that’s even worse, you think and grip the counter so as to not physically cringe at your words.

“Not like that, huh?” His words are still so seductive and flirtatious it makes you want to combust. Maybe you will, if he keeps this going.

“N-no,” you stammer, looking down at the menu screen again. “I mean, I just think it’s underrated. People dismiss it as boring, but it’s really just as interesting of a flavor as anything else. It tastes really good with our espresso.”

Jack tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his face. His lip pokes out just slightly to wet his lips and you shiver involuntarily, your skin pricking up all across your body. God, you hope he can’t see it. “I’ll trust you on it, ‘nilla bean,” the man drawls and stands up straight again. “Triple espresso with vanilla and cream.”

You nod and ring that in. God, if he keeps going with the nicknames, you’re going to melt into a puddle here and now.

“What are these?” He asks as his fingers trace over the drawings on the counter, lifting them and finding the pink and green powder of the dried paint has transferred to his fingertips.

God, he makes you nervous, but in a good way. In the best way possible, a way that makes you want to knock that cowboy hat off his head and find out if his lips are as soft as they look. “I draw when I’m bored. It’s been a slow day,” you chuckle as your own fingers trace the crawling vines and flowers you’d painted there. “Sorry about the transfer,” you chuckle and your fingertips brush his, making you involuntarily shudder again at the contact. His fingertips are calloused and radiate warmth.  “Uh, can I get you anything to eat?” You ask and gesture at the bakery case.

The man inspects it for a moment, looking at the various foods lined up under the soft white light. “I’ll take one’a these,” he says and pokes a finger towards the chocolate chip cookies through the glass. You nod and take one out for him, putting it in a little paper sleeve and handing it over. “How much is this gonna hurt my wallet?” He asks, pulling it out from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Give me one second.” You type in your code for your employee discount, which takes a moment.

“What’re you typin’ there, ‘nilla bean?” He asks, brow furrowing.

Looking up at him, you push your visor up your face and smile a little. “Oh, I’m giving you my employee discount. It’s ridiculously priced here.”

Jack frowns. “You don’t have to do that for me, sugar. I’m just a regular ol’ customer.”

It’s your chance, you realize, to say something or stay silent forever. “Well, I like you,” you admit and take the credit card he hands you, swiping it through the machine. “And I’m hoping you’ll at least become a regular. I’d like to see you more,” you tell him with a grin.

The man’s face lights up, even beneath the shadow of his brim. “I’d like that too,” he nods and pockets his card when you hand it back.

A beat of silence passes as the two of you smile at each other, both of you lovestruck immediately. “Uh, your drink will be right up over there,” you say and nod to the other end of the café. “Are you going to drink that here or take it to go?” You ask.

“Oh, here,” he nods.

“Perfect,” you say with a small smile. “Then I’ll just bring it to you when it’s ready. Nothing better to do today,” you shrug and wander down to the other end before Jack, Whiskey, whatever can refute you.

You take the cup from your coworker, humming to yourself as you put some vanilla and cream in the cup, pulling the espresso shots. When it’s ready, it barely reaches the halfway mark of the small cup, so you top it with a little whipped cream. You suspect the man has more of a sweet tooth than he lets on.

Pocketing a pink paint marker, you put a lid on the drink and walk out to the dining room, setting the coffee down across from him. He’s munching on the cookie he’d ordered, looking up at you with unintentional puppy dog eyes. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you smile and pull out the chair across from him, sitting down and pulling out the paint pen. “I put a little extra whipped cream on top. I thought it would go well with the espresso, make it a little creamier or something.”

As you uncap the paint pen, Jack’s brow furrows as he watches you. “Whatcha doing there?” He asks as you bring his cup closer to yourself and write something on the top.

“Being brave,” you chuckle and cap the pen, sliding it back. “I gotta head back. Enjoy it,” you say as you stand and pat him on the shoulder.

Only as you walk back to the register does Whiskey comprehend exactly what you put on the top of his cup. It’s your phone number, in that chalky pink paint, and a smiley face beneath it.

Jack may not be great with technology, like he told you, but he immediately pulls out his phone and takes a photo. Then he enters the number into a contact, filling out the name: ‘Nilla Bean.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain

[mrsnegan]

[Disclaimer: As always, Jeffrey's single in this little thingy I wrote. 😉]

---

"Hey lovely, how are you?"

My heart misses a beat at his baritone voice and those warm eyes of his.

"Fantastic. T-thank you so much. And you?"

He smiles at me kindly, honestly and motions me to sit down besides him.

"Very good, thanks. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I bet you say that to everyone you meet during Comic Con, don't you", I blurt out, instantly regretting my big mouth.

He looks at me a bit bewildered, then heartily laughs.

"You got me there, that much is true. I like your directness, really fucking refreshing."

I try to grin, unsure of what to think about his reaction to my very inappropriate statement. My cheeks feel heated. Shit. Why was I like this every time I was nervous?

"I'm so sorry, I'm usually a really nice person, that sounded rude. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to meet you, I guess I'm just a little...nervous", I try to explain because even when he said he found my statement refreshing, I feel the need to show him I'm not some self-absorbed bitch.

"Oh hell, no need to apologize, sweetheart, I absolutely love honest people. Why are you even nervous?"

This time it's me who looks a bit bewildered. I muster the courage to look at him directly (and not getting disturbed by his exquisite smell, this perfectly trimmed beard and his hands which casually lie in his lap... I don't even want to go there but my eyes have a mind of their own). I blush instantly, feeling caught.

"You ain't nervous because of me, are ya?"

I suppress the urge to nod, because I want to...what? Don't give him the satisfaction to be right? That's so childish of me. So I shrug my shoulders and add: "I guess I'm just not used to talking to one of my absolute favorite actors. I love your work, your talent and personality, this is all so surreal, to sit here next to you, finally meeting you."

Jeffrey smiles at me knowingly. "You know", he says, "I was the exact same when I met my idols for the first time. So no need to worry about it. Thank you very much for the compliment. And don't be nervous, I don't bite." He winks at me and laughs, oh those dimples.

"I wouldn't mind." Oh damn, did I just say this out loud? "Oh God, I'm so sorry, that was inappropriate." I hide my face behind my hands. I will go down in history as the one fan who couldn't keep her mouth shut and be thankful for the opportunity to meet Jeffrey. He will surely make fun of my fangirl behavior later with his friends. God, I'm so pathetic.

"Well...I wouldn't mind either."

Wait...what?

I feel his hands reaching for mine and let them sink again so he can get a look at my face. My cheeks are bright red, I'm so embarrassed. Though I need to look at him after what he just said. His eyes scan my face and without having time to comprehend what's happening, he presses a light kiss onto my lips.

I blink a few times in utter shock, but not because I didn't like it.

"Fuck it", I murmur and this time it's me kissing him. His hands wander into my hair, pressing me to him some more while mine find a home on his chest. How can a man be this intoxicating and...manly? He's sex on fucking legs and I'm here kissing him. This can't be real, can it? But it is, his tongue in my mouth is real, his scent is real, his shirt underneath my fingertips is real, the sounds he makes are fucking real too.

We detach from each other some moments later. I'm still flying, my blood pumping fast.

"Do you...do you do that with everyone you meet at Comic Con?" I ask out of breath.

He laughs richly, shaking his head. "Feisty. That's how I like my women. Actually no, just with those ones who are as irresistible and beautiful as you. And that are not many."

That's when I also start laughing out loud.

"I won't tell anybody if you also don't", I whisper and smile brightly. Somehow it's so easy to talk to him, despite my nervous behavior at the beginning of our encounter.

"Mouth's sealed", he winks. "But I also need proof I can trust you. Gimme your phone number. The real one."

I shake my head, still giggling. "I see what you're doing here. Smart move. Hold on."

I lean over him to get the pen and one of his pictures he usually signs for the fans. But this time it's the fan scribbling something on it and handing it to him.

"Here, big man. My number, the real one."

Jeffrey takes the piece of paper, smirking.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

We look at each other for some seconds before we kiss again, this time much slower but also much more sensual.

"I fear your 10 minutes are up", he whispers between kisses, "but I hope we'll meet again."

My hands gently run over his neatly trimmed beard, eyes hooded. "I hope so too. I want to know what this beard feels like between my legs."

Jeffrey cackles at that. "You've got a mouth on you, young lady. Like I said, feisty as shit. See you soon."

[charmingyong]

Wasabi Chocolates

Genre: Ten x reader (gender neutral), co-workers, one-sided hate to love, humour, fluff

Warnings: the number of times I wrote “oh my god,” swear words, somewhat mentally violent reader (’you’re going crazy~’ because of Ten), physical injury, cats (sorry to those allergic)

Abbrev: F/N L/N = first name last name

Word count: 6k

Plot: You were a good child, always being nice to your classmates in elementary school. Unlike Ten who was always a troublemaker. When your family decided to move away during middle school, you were relieved thinking that you weren’t ever going to see him again. But you were wrong a decade later when your new co-worker was none other than the devil himself.

A/N: You’ll see that I watch a lot of cat vlogs. Please let me know if there are any issues in terms of the gender-neutral assignment.

- ❀ -

“Oh my God! Did you hear about the new guy that got hired in our department? I heard he’s super hot!” Sally gushed.

Your colleagues around you continued to gossip while your gaze was fixed onto the word document on your monitor. It didn’t faze you that the workspace next to yours was going to be occupied soon.

“Wow Y/N, aren’t you lucky?”

You rolled your eyes. Who knew how the new employee was going to turn out in terms of work habits? You were always punctual when completing work before deadlines and arriving for work, except for the times when the brutal winter would take forever to heat your car up. You were hardworking and smart, always getting praised by your higher-ups. You were proud of the compliments, but you mainly did it for self discipline. You loved your coworkers. They were all productive like you and adored you back. You were always genuinely nice to them, ready to help them out whenever they needed a helping hand. It made you happy that your workplace was a healthy environment and you looked forward to working there every day.

You hoped the new co-worker would be no exception.

“We’ll see about that when he starts. When is he coming?” you asked.

“Tomorrow.”

- ❀ -

The next morning you arrived a little earlier than usual, wanting to welcome the newbie and give him a tour around the building. You placed your tote bag that had a poorly self-drawn picture of your cat and turned on your desktop monitor, displaying the wallpaper of your sleeping cat on your bed. You smiled, your heart fluttering at how cute Sakura looked. You heard the doors slide open of your department, signaling an arrival. Removing your gaze from the monitor, you stood up ready to greet them warmly.

Only to have your blood turn cold and your face scrunched up ever so slightly when you realized who it was.

An amused smile grew on his face. “Wow! I can’t believe this. The one and only F/N L/N is my work buddy.”

Ten.

He was the new employee that was going to be located beside you.

The same troublemaker from elementary school. The one who’d make fun of the new kids with accents, start fights with other boys, be loud and obnoxious in class, and worst of all, act all high mighty as if he was the most important person in the school.

You scoffed. There went your hope jumping out the tenth-floor window. Hope for your new co-worker to be no exception to the healthy workplace environment. “I feel a headache coming,” you muttered to yourself.

- ❀ -

Ten had settled down at his workspace, and your colleagues gathered around him, asking about himself. He took out something from his bag, a gift for his new coworkers.

“Wow Ten! You’re so cool!” Sally fanned herself as if Ten’s coolness was too much for her to handle.

“I know right.” Ten had a smug smile on his face.

You scoffed from your seat. “Who the fuck brings wine to work?” Ten had brought a red wine bottle as a ‘please take care of me’ gift. Who was even going to drink it during work hours?

“It looks like someone doesn’t know how to have fun,” he threw shade at you.

You glared at him, your blood boiling the more you heard his voice.

“Y/N doesn’t. That’s why she’s still single,” Mina agreed.

You started at her in disbelief. “Excuse me, but I’m living a grand life.”

“Please, I’m tired of hearing your love stories with your cat.”

Ten’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Woah! You have a cat? That’s so cool!” he gushed.

You rolled your eyes. “I thought you saw my computer screen already.”

He got onto his feet quickly and bent down to hover over your shoulder. The close proximity between you two sent your heart beating erratically. “Wow... What’s her name? She’s so cute,” he cooed, straightening his spine up.

Your heartbeat went back to normal and you heaved out a sigh in relief. “Sakura, and how do you know she’s a female?”

He held up two fingers. “I have two cats. And I love cats so much that I can accurately guess if they’re a he or she.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a smirk forming on his face. “I beat you. You have one and I have two cats.”

If you weren’t at work, you would have chucked a pencil at him. And you couldn’t believe your ears. You both had one thing in common after all those childhood years when you’d compare your good self to his bad one.

The day went by super slow, all thanks to the devil. You had given him a tour of the building, trying to keep your cool to the best of your ability whenever he made remarks. Once you explained the work for the day, you tried to focus on your work.

It hadn’t been a few seconds when you felt a poke in the shoulder. “Y/N, how do I do this? What is this supposed to mean? Why are we doing this?”

Like the way your hope did, you wanted to jump out the window.

- ❀ -

A couple of days later, Ten had picked up everything that you taught him, even completing his work faster than you. Your pace had only slowed down a bit because of the living distraction next to you. He had changed the desktop wallpaper to a selfie with his two cats. You weren’t ever going to admit this out loud, but he looked just a little bit cute with the adorable furry felines.

Your boss had announced that there was going to be a lunch party happening at the end of the week to welcome the newly hired employees in the company. Parties and such weren’t your thing anymore. Lifestyle habits changed after adopting your beautiful Sakura. But the reason why you kind of looked forward to it was because of a particular someone from another department.

“You know what this means?” Mina wiggled her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Shoot your shot! Who knows someone will catch your eyes at the party?”

“Or a secret admirer of yours finally asks you out,” Joshua added.

“Which is not happening,” you said. “My luck isn’t that great.”

Flashbacks to your previous failed dates haunted you and you didn’t have it in you to try again. You were happy with Sakura and did your best to stay positive, convincing yourself that your love for your cat was enough to be happy in your successful life.

Your last words had Ten staring at you intently.

- ❀ -

Your group walked to the location of the lunch party on the main floor. Your heart wasn’t exactly beating fast, only doing a few somersaults. Upon entering the main hall, you saw many employees from other departments chatting with one another. Your eyes scanned the area to search for a particular boy.

You found him. He wore a black suit with a white-collar shirt. His dark hair neatly styled. Xiaojun, you believed was his name based on that one time he had delivered a speech at a mass conference. You had never talked to him and didn’t find it in you to do so. You could tell he was way younger than you and that stopped you from approaching him. If you talked to him, it would only make you feel like you were talking to your son than your crush.

Ten followed your line of sight and smirked. “Wow, does my Y/N have a crush on someone?”

Your heart stopped and turned to glare at him. “What the fuck do you mean my Y/N?”

He snickered. “So you like him, huh?”

Sally’s ears piqued interest. “Oh my God! Did I just hear that Y/N has a crush?”

“Finally someone other than her cat!” Mina cried. “Who who?” Her head turned in all directions as if she was going to find someone holding a sign saying ‘I’m her crush.’

You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Ugh! I don’t! Ten’s just being an asshole.”

“Hey! I only speak the truth!”

Joshua spoke up. “Okay fine Y/N. Let’s say you don’t have a crush. Is there someone in this room that catches your eye?”

Even if someone did, you weren’t going to admit it. But for your colleagues’ sake, you pretended to search the room. “No.”

Before they could force you to go around and show your face, a group of people walked into the hall, carrying various foods for the lunch party and placing them on the white clothed tables lined up near the wall. A guy carried a plate of what looked like chocolates and placed it on the desserts table. You recognized the guy being Yuta, having bumped into him a couple of times when going out for Japanese meals and making small talks. Though you found it weird that he only brought a small box when there were at least two hundred people present.

You remembered Yuta saying that he loved pranking people and if the chocolates were the bait for his next prank, an idea formed in your head.

“Okay guys, I have an idea.”

“Huh?” Mina was bewildered from your sudden declaration.

“I’m going to make your wish come true.”

“Woah what do you mean? You’re gonna ask someone out?” Joshua grew excited by your words.

You nodded. “If someone eats that chocolate Yuta brought without making a reaction, I’ll ask them out on one date.”

Your colleagues showed a mixed reaction of shock and excitement. Ten was silently watching you with his eyes holding a shine.

Yes, you could have been wrong and Yuta may have brought chocolates for people who were lucky to get their hands on it first. But when the first victim when up to take a bite of the chocolate, your theory had turned out right. It was a prank. The woman’s face scrunched up in disgust and turned red.

Ten saw this, trying to think of the possible things that could be inside the chocolates. He could handle spicy things easily, but he didn’t like fruits and hoped those weren’t inside.

He was curious about you, loved annoying you to the point you were pulling your hair. A date sounded like the perfect thing in order to have more fun with you. He knew you’d never agree to one with him, knowing the bad reputation he had as a child. Your reaction to when he first walked into the department on his first day was enough to confirm that you still held onto the ill thoughts of him.  

He walked through the crowds before another person would snatch the opportunity. He observed the round chocolates, definitely handcrafted, and were perfectly sealed off without anyone doubting its contents. He picked one up and headed back to you.

You were puzzled to see Ten hold a piece of Yuta’s chocolate. Your brain feared for the possibility of what Ten had in mind.

Mina squealed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat the chocolate Y/N was talking about!”

Ten gave you a mischievous smirk while you shook your head. “Don’t you dare,” you breathed out.

“You didn’t put any restrictions.” While holding eye contact with you, he placed the chocolate in his mouth, not biting it right away.

Your heart felt uneasy. You hoped desperately for Ten to lose the challenge.

He slowly bit into the sweet cocoa shell, testing the filling. He felt the heat of the spicy pungent flavour explode in his mouth, immediately figuring out that the filling was wasabi. Good thing he broke the round shell slowly so he could get used to the taste instead of being thrown under the bus and distorting his face.

Ten chewed calmly as you began panicking. If he finished eating the chocolate without making a single face, you were doomed. Why Ten out of everyone? Why would Ten even be interested in going on a date with you?

After a minute, he opened his mouth.

Your heart dropped.

The pungent smell of wasabi hit your nose but nothing was in his mouth. He finished it.

“So Y/N, this means I get to go out with you,” he stated with a triumph smile.

How do you get away with murder without reading books for ideas?

- ❀ -

You unlocked the door to your apartment, gently opening it to find Sakura sitting by the door, waiting for you excitedly.

“Awe my baby!” you cooed and picked her up.

She nuzzled into your cozy sweater and purred.

“Are you hungry, girl?”

A meow as a reply.

You put her down and made your way to the kitchen. As you prepared her meal, you thought back to Ten’s words on his first day.

I have two cats.

Poor cats. You felt bad for their unfortunate fate of having Ten as their owner.

You placed the elevated food bowl on the counter and called her. She jumped effortlessly onto the counter and stuffed her head inside the bowl.

A notification chimed on your phone, followed by another one, and another one. “Huh, who could that be?” you asked to yourself.

3 unread messages: Ten

You groaned upon seeing the devil’s name. This would only mean one thing.

Ten: tmrw’s saturday

Ten: let’s go on that date

Ten: uwu

You cringed at the last message. He was nowhere near uwu in your eyes. You also didn’t want to go out with him this soon, but it was better to get it over with than having to put it off.

Y/N: fine

Y/N: 2pm at the shopping mall

Ten: see you tmrw babe ;)

You gagged.

- ❀ -

It was 1:52 pm and you waited at the entrance of the mall, scrolling through your gallery on the phone. Why did you come early? A habit of yours. And when you were supposed to be on a ‘date’ with a devil that you despised greatly, it was better to arrive early and calm yourself down before you could murder him at first sight. You chose the mall, thinking it was better to walk around than having to sit across him and look at his face the entire time. Plus, you were almost positive that your window shopping was going to be torturous for Ten.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” You whipped around to see the devil laughing his ass off.

“Oh my God Y/N. You should have seen your face.” Ten mimicked your scream, exaggerating it with a funny face.

You puffed. “Shut up!”

“Okay okay. No need to frown. So what are we here for?” He rubbed his palms together excited for the date.

You rolled your eyes. “This is a shopping mall. We’re obviously here to shop.”

“Yeah but anything in particular?”

You shook your head. If anything caught your eye for Sakura, then that was it. Your plan was to walk around window shopping long enough that Ten would start whining and leave you.

And never dare to go out with you again.

You expected him to play it cool if he didn’t like the idea, but his wide grin and sparkling eyes told you otherwise. “Perfect! We can walk around and see if we find something for our cats. I actually have some art supplies to buy too.”

Your heart dropped, not expecting the uno reverse card.

He noticed your fallen face, knowing the reason behind it and cooed. “Awe your so cute!” He pinched your cheek, in which you swatted his hand away.

He laughed with his crinkling eyes while heat rose up to your cheeks.

“Let’s go!” Ten clung onto your arm and pulled you with him. You didn’t have it in you to pull out of his grasp when your heart was hammering in your chest.

- ❀ -

The next time you arrived at work, you were surprised to find Ten already at his desk. He usually arrived after you.

“Morning Y/N!” he chirped.

You never realized how handsome he really was when sweetly smiling at you.

Every day your cold heart towards him melted whenever he’d ask if you wanted coffee or needed any help. Whenever he’d leave his workspace with his desktop wallpaper displayed on the monitor, you stared at the selfie picture and your heart picked up its pace at the cute cats and Ten’s smile.

One day, you arrived to work with your heart expecting to see the cute kitten in the form of a human, only to be disappointed by his absence. All your colleagues had arrived on time shortly, except for the one beside you. It was past 10 am, an hour after the expected arrival time, which you thought was weird for Ten to be away from work without informing anyone.

Your phone vibrated beside you, displaying an unknown number. “Weird,” you mumbled but answered in case it had something to do with Ten. “Hello?”

“Hello, am I speaking to Y/N?” An unknown female’s voice was heard over the line.

“Yes?”

“Hello, I’m calling from the hospital regarding a patient named Ten.”

Your body froze. Hospital? Patient? “Oh my God! What happened to Ten?” You didn’t know you were loud for others to hear you. A sick feeling formed in your stomach at the thought of Ten being hurt.

“Not to worry too much. He has a minor injury and he requested for you.”

You grabbed your belongings and sprinted out the office.

- ❀ -

Your eyes scanned the room full of patients sitting on the beds, waiting for either the doctor or their loved ones.

“Y/N! Over here!” Your head snapped in his direction, where he sat on the bed with a cast on his arm. The boy really only knew how to smile, even when he was injured with his dominant arm.

“Why the fuck are you here? What happened to you?” you yelled full of anger.

A nurse attending another patient hushed you, and you muttered a sheepish apology.

“I was on my way to work and on the crosswalk-”

“Ten, why don’t you look both ways before crossing the road? Why do you always do reckless things? How are you going to work now? Even worse, how are you going to take care of yourself and your cats?”

“Woah, easy there tiger. It’s just a small cast. I’ll be fine,” Ten waved his free hand in a dismissive manner. “Everything will be okay.”

You groaned, frustrated with his carefree attitude. “Why do you love causing so much trouble? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He didn’t say anything back, opting to stay mute with pursed lips. Of course you wouldn’t have anything to say, you thought.

A man appeared beside you. “Hello. Are you Ten?” he asked the boy on the bed.

Ten nodded. “Yes I am.”

You gave the man a quick glance who wore a black formal suit. He couldn’t be working at the hospital with that kind of attire.

“Hi, I’m Taeyong. I want to sincerely apologize and thank you with all my heart for this morning.”

Wait what? “What happened this morning?” you asked him utterly confused. Why was this man saying thank you and sorry to Ten?

“My son was crossing the road and wasn’t paying attention to the pedestrian lights, almost getting hit by a car.”

You gasped audibly. “Oh no! Is he alright?”

He smiled at you. “Yes he is. All thanks to Ten for jumping into the traffic and saving him.”

Ten? Ten saved a child? Ten risked his safety to save someone? Your heart fluttered as you gaped at the one you’d always call the devil, for once having done an angelic deed to save a child’s life.

Ten avoided your eyes and looked at Taeyong. “It’s not a problem at all. I hope he’s okay.”

Taeyong nodded. “Yes he is. As a form of gratitude, I’d like to pay for your hospital bills.”

“Oh there’s no need-”

“I insist. Please,” Taeyong pleaded, not willing to back down.

Ten let out a deep sigh. “Okay. If you really don’t mind.”

Taeyong smiled warmly. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll take your leave and pay at the front. Take care, Ten.” With that, Taeyong left.

You huffed. “So you were just to leave me in the dark and not tell me?”

He shrugged. “You cut me off before I could explain.”

Oh right. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

He nodded. “Apology accepted... under one condition.”

You rapidly blinked a few times. Condition? “Okay what is it?” You still felt guilty for jumping to conclusion and you were ready to take him on another date if that was what he wanted. But you were still confused that Ten even wanted to go on a date with you earlier.

An innocent smile formed on his face. “I’m going to need help now that my one arm isn’t working.”

You nodded, agreeing to his words, and expected that much. “How can I help?”

“Live with me.”

“WHAT?” You earned another hush from the nearby nurse and apologized again. “I am not living with you. I have Sakura to take care of and she has a problem adjusting to new environments,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Then I’ll come live with you. Louis and Leon have no problem with that,” he stated seriously.

“That doesn’t solve anything. You know our cats have to get used to each other first. Otherwise they’ll just be hissing at each other every day.”

“Anything to do with cats, leave it to me. I’ll fix all the problems.” He smirked for the nth time. “So that means you’re okay with me living with you, huh?”

If he didn’t have a cast on him, you would have grabbed the pillow off the bed and chucked it at his face.

- ❀ -

“Your place is pretty cute. Like you,” Ten said while his eyes wandered around your small apartment. You heard him say the last part but chose to ignore it, assuming that he was either lying or joking.

The old you would have never agreed to let Ten live with you. But your feelings were slowly developing for the devil and you wanted to slap yourself for that. Why Ten out of anyone? And even though you went out with Ten, why was he okay with you?

Oh yes, you both had cats.

All your previous dates had made a dash towards the exit upon hearing your love for your cat. It was only three dates, but it was enough for you to pull the brakes on dating. You couldn’t figure why they had a problem with that. Wasn’t it normal to have a pet? Maybe yours was taking it a little too far and it seemed more like an obsession. You only ever thought about Sakura, bringing every little thing to connect to Sakura during the conservations. Every time you looked at your date, your mind went on overdrive thinking about what Sakura was up to. You had a security camera set up in the living room to check on her through the phone app.

Needless to say, you were more concerned about your cat than your dates, and that made you never hear back from them again.

Upon entry of the strangers in her home, Sakura ran up to the highest tier of the cat tower, hissing as her little furs stood up.

“Sakura don’t worry. They won’t hurt you,” you spoke softly while patting her backside.

Ten chuckled. “Sakura is feisty, just like you.”

You glared at him. “I never show my feisty side.”

He scoffed. “Please, it’s literally written all over your face.” He smirked and added, “It’s quite entertaining.”

You scowled.

Sakura continued hissing in the direction of the other cats. Louis and Leon were still in their carriers, looking around curiously through the windows.

“Meow?”

“Yes Leon, we’re staying here until I get better.” Ten took out a blanket from one of his bags and spread it out in the living room. He unzipped Leon’s carrier and waited for the cat to courageously come out. After a few seconds of popping his head out and looking around, Leon hopped out and nuzzled against the familiar blanket, not minding the hissing from the top of the tower.

Louis was next, and unlike Leon, Louis began his tour around his temporary home.

“When do you have to take your pain medication?” you asked.

“Before dinner. What should we eat?”

“You’re the patient. You should decide.”

He hummed for a bit. “How about ramen? I’m craving for those instant ramen noodles.”

Wow. You could really start tallying up all the similarities that you both had, and the thought of it made your heart skip a beat.

“Perfect. I have a stash of it,” you replied.

He grinned at you and you looked away from his eyes, coughing out of nervousness. “Um, for bed you can either take my room or sleep on this pull-out daybed here.” You were grateful for your selection of a furniture that came three-in-one for your living room. Sofa, additional storage, and bed. It was wiser to go for a multifunctional product when living in an apartment.

Ten’s eyes narrowed in amusement. “Wow is F/N L/N really giving up the bedroom for me?”

You froze. You didn’t think of it beforehand and worried if your heart was going to get caught. He was injured and you didn’t have it in you to force him on the daybed when he could feel better on your queen-sized bed. But if he was going to pull your leg, then you were going to take back the offer. “Fine, be in the living room.”

He smiled kindly. “I wouldn’t take your room even if you insisted. But I really appreciate the thought, Y/N,” he spoke softly.

The way his eyes brightened when fixed on you had your heart ready to jump out the window.

- ❀ -

Sakura’s bed was usually in the living room. But because of the strangers that hijacked there, she moved into your bedroom. It didn’t really make a big difference to you as she sometimes slept next to you in bed. Meanwhile, you were surprised that Louis and Leon had adjusted fairly quickly to both the new home and its owners.

You got out of the bathroom after taking your bedtime shower, cuing Ten to go in next. Walking into the kitchen, you prepared a glass of warm milk for yourself. Leon and Louis began meowing and purring at your drink and so you decided to prepare three bowls of it. You placed the bowls for Leon and Louis down on the floor, in which they began sipping immediately, while keeping Sakura’s on the counter, her preferred location for meals and away from the ‘intruders.’ You picked her up and transported her to the counter, keeping her far away as possible from the other cats.

“Y/N, can you help me?”

You headed to the direction of the bathroom and found him standing like a kicked puppy. “What is it?”

“I need help taking my clothes off.”

“WHAT?” You were not going to strip him naked.

He laughed hard, holding his stomach. “Chill I was joking. At least for the bottoms. Can you help me take off my shirt?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, bashful at the request. Well this was what he meant when he said he needed help, you thought.

You moved to stand in front of him. Your fingers hesitated to touch his shirt and Ten watched you with an entertained expression. Taking a deep breath which you smelled your favourite body wash coming from him, you grasped the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it upward. You weren’t trying to look at his abs knowing it was going to freak you out. But when your eyes landed on his six-pack abs, you yelped and accidentally tugged on his injured arm.

“Ow!”

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

He chuckled. “Calm down Y/N. My abs aren’t gonna come to life and bite you. I think you should pull the sleeve out of my arm first and then pull it up.”

You did as he said and eventually got him free of his top. So now you were standing in front of a shirtless Ten, his abs staring at you, your eyes avoiding him, and you felt like your cheeks were on fire.

“It’ll be easier to wear a sleeveless shirt... or no shirt at all. Your reactions are so cute to watch,” he cooed.

“Have some manners at least for Sakura.”

- ❀ -

Before you left for work the next morning, Sakura had surprisingly warmed up to Ten. That was good news because she continued hissing at her new housemates. Having at least one soul at home who she wasn’t afraid of would bring her relief. Louis and Leon didn’t give her much attention and minded their own business.

At work, it felt weird to not have Ten next to you even though he was living at your place. The office environment felt different without him just as it felt different when he first joined the company. You used to be irritated of having him as your work buddy, and it was funny that you recently liked having him around, especially when work got stressful. He’d always add humour to every situation and your colleagues loved him for it, motivating them to work with a calmer mind.

Your colleagues asked you about him and when you filled them in on what happened, you wondered what was going on at home without you. You pulled out your phone and went on the security camera app. A hand flew to your mouth before you could scream.

“What is it, Y/N?” Sally asked and appeared behind you, looking at your screen. “Oh my goodness. This is...”

“What what what?” Mina ran up, followed by Joshua.

“Woah,” he breathed out, upon seeing a shirtless Ten lazing around in the living room.

You should have expected it from his words the previous night. Ten was playing with Sakura and your heart was far from okay seeing the two kittens you had a soft spot for being friendly with one another.

“So did the date happen with Ten yet?” Mina asked.

You nodded. “Yeah it did. We went to the mall.”

“Ooo~ How did it go?” Joshua asked.

“Of course it had to have gone well enough for Ten to be living with Y/N,” Sally winked in your way.

Sally was right in the sense that the date went well. Even though you weren’t a fan of Ten back when the date happened, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the date itself wasn’t fun. It was fun going to the different shops to check out cool outfits that looked jaw-dropping good on Ten, and buy some new toys for the cats. You both went to a Japanese restaurant and had sushi for lunch. The wasabi that was provided with the meal made you think back to the wasabi chocolate that Ten ate to win a date with you.

How did it taste like, you thought.

- ❀ -

One day, a meeting in the morning had bad news broken to your team. The deadline for a particular project was the next day, which meant that your entire team had to work overtime to complete it. You texted Ten of the news and he replied saying to not worry about him or the cats. You felt bad that he was going to have to handled everything on his own with his injured arm and an additional cat on top of his. Even though it was a matter of few seconds to check the security camera and see if everything was all right, your stress kept your brain preoccupied with the urgent assignment at hand and not check on the situation at home.

When you arrived home after eleven at night, you were greeted by three cats waiting for you behind the door. Your tired brain noticed that Sakura wasn’t hissing at Louis and Leon, meaning that she had finally warmed up to her new friends.

“Oh my goodness... Ten! Did you see Sakura-” You went speechless upon your entry into the living room.

Ten stood smiling at you with a canvas sitting on an easel behind him. The canvas was a painting of what looked like flowers and vines in the background that surrounded... your face?

“How did you... your arm?” You were impressed that Ten had painted it with his non-dominant hand.

“Being in here all day, I tried painting with my free hand. I’m sorry if it didn’t turn out good.” He bit his lip nervously.

You were dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? This is so cool! It’s literally flawless. But what is this supposed to be?”

He smiled genuinely at you. “It’s a painting of you blooming around plants. There’s something I want to confess...” he trailed off nervously scratching his head.

Your heart beated faster, hoping that it was something good that he wanted to confess after showing the painting of you.

“I really like you, Y/N. I know I’m not in your good books, but I promise to be one from now on. So if you’re willing to give me a chance, will you let me be your boyfriend?” he asked with a hopeful expression.

You blinked, not believing your ears that Ten liked you back. “You seriously like me?”

He chuckled anxiously. “Yeah. I did ever since the first time I saw you again at work.”

Woah. “So that’s why you wanted to date me,” you breathed out.

He nodded. You grew silent and so he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to confess back?”

“What?”

“I know you like me too.” His infamous smirk made a comeback. “It’s so obvious and written all over your face every day.”

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“I see you’re not denying it.”

You pursed your lips but failed to stop the smile from spilling onto your face. “Okay you win. I like you too.” You were ecstatic that you were not only going to live a successful life, but a satisfied one as well.

“Good, because there’s another surprise for you in the kitchen,” he stated.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“You’ll see,” he smiled innocently.  

Walking into the kitchen, you found what Ten was talking about. You brought the heart shaped box wrapped with red gift wrap to the living room, excitedly unwrapping it and opening the box in front of him.

The contents of the box being heart shaped chocolates.

“Awe, this is so cute.” You took a bite without any hesitancy and your face scrunched up miserably.

Wasabi.

Ten’s laughter resonated off the walls of your apartment as you dropped the box on the coffee table and sprinted to the kitchen, spitting it into the trash. You stormed back to Ten and crossed your arms angrily.

“You literally promised!” you yelled.

“Yeah I did. But I never said that these chocolates were for you to eat.”

“You said it was a surprise for me,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah but your surprise is this.” He picked up a piece and popped it in his mouth, chewing it as if there was no spicy filling inside it. Once he swallowed it all, he opened his mouth for proof. You were confused as to why he willingly ate the wasabi chocolate. Though you did slightly swoon over how sexy he looked when he ate the bomb so effortlessly. He closed his mouth and grinned at you.

“You owe me another date.”

[ghostiesblog]

happy 100 followers!!!!!!!!! could you write a small flarrie secret admirer drabble? if not that’s totally ok!! congrats again!!!

Thank you anon!!! This is NOT a small drabble lmao I have no concept of doing anything in moderation. Might even edit it a bit in a while and post it on ao3. Thank you for the awesome prompt. Here ya go:

I'm not magical, I can't read your mind

Pairings: Flarrie | Warnings: none

There’s a rose on Flynn’s desk. There’s a rose on Flynn’s desk. And she has no idea who put it there.

Well- she does know who put it there, she knows that it’s Nick’s job this year to distribute the Valentine’s Day roses and messages, a school tradition that Flynn normally despises and mocks to no end. But someone must have bought the rose, addressed it to her and handed it in and Flynn absolutely cannot fathom who would do that for her.

Definitely not the person she wishes this was from. But now is not the time to think about that.

Almost frantically, she scans the rose for an attached message, or at least an indication about who the sender is.

Nothing. In fact, it looks like the cardboard tag has been ripped off, leaving only the corner with her own name, attached to a piece of string.

“Ooh”, Julie says, waggling her eyebrows, when she spots Flynn puzzling over her flower. “Who’s this from?”

“No idea”, Flynn says, dragging her thumb across the jagged edges of the destroyed tag. “No idea…”

-

Later in the hallway, Flynn tries her best to stealthily transfer the rose from her backpack into her locker. She fails, obviously, because she when she looks around she catches Carrie blatantly staring at her from a few feet away.

“What?” she snaps, irritably. Yes, Carrie has very clearly been trying to be nicer to both her and Julie, but Flynn is still weary of this new found peace.

She also might be a bit annoyed simply because she got a rose and it isn’t from Carrie.

Immediately, something in Carrie’s posture changes and her face scrunches up.

“Nothing”, she says. “Just wondering who’s stupid enough to send you a rose.”

Flynn feels like she’s been punched in the chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” she says incredulously.

“Don’t you hate valentine’s day?” Carrie asks and now Flynn is just confused. Why does she still remember that?

“It’s anonymously”, Julie chimes in unhelpfully. “From a secret admirer”

She sings those last words teasingly, like she’s done all the way through English lesson. Like she has any room to talk with the songs Luke and her write about each other on the daily.

Carrie raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed.

“Someone sent you a rose and didn’t even write their name? That’s so stupid.”

“It’s not-“, Flynn starts and then breaks off. Why does she suddenly feel defensive over this anonymous sender?

“Sounds like a coward to me”, Carrie says with a sickly sweet smile before turning away. “See you in music”, she calls and disappears down the hallway.

“What has made her revert back to demon today?” Julie says, sounding as confused as Flynn feels.

-

Flynn doesn’t expect any follow up after the rose on Valentine’s Day. It has been fun coming up with more and more wild theories with Julie and the band (the latest being that it’s a ghost who has fallen for Flynn when they saw her setting up the lightshow at the Orpheum), but to Flynn at least it is clear that that was the end of it.

So when she finds a small envelope on her desk the next morning, it takes her a bit to figure out what’s happening here.

Inside, she finds a small piece of paper with, curiously enough, words clearly written by a real typewriter on it.

>

To: Flynn

I’m sorry I’m a mess,

But you simply make me speechless.

I couldn’t let you go without a note,

After I trashed the first one I wrote,

So let me just say, though this is nothing new,

I seem to have hopelessly fallen for you.

>

When Carrie catches Julie and Flynn pouring over the poem during lunch while walking past their table, she scoffs.

“A bit cliché, don’t you think?”

Flynn scowls and hides the note with her hand. “Go away Carrie”

“The meter’s off”, Carrie says haughtily before stalking off.

“How did she spot that so fast?” Julie exclaims incredulously.

-

The next note shows up in Flynn’s bag while she’s working on a Spanish presentation with Nick and Carrie.

>

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I like your music,

And your rapping too

>

“Now that’s just tacky”, Carrie says, while spying over Flynn’s shoulder.

Flynn rolls her eyes.

-

>

Flynn,

No poem today, just wanted to say that your smile made my day.

>

“They’re not even trying anymore, are they?” Carrie mocks.

-

>

With your gentle soul and your kind eyes,

You chase away the clouds in the skies,

Never met a person, so loyal and strong

And anyone who had you, would be a lucky one.

>

“Skies? This sounds ridiculous!”

Flynn curses the fact that Carrie keeps seeing these.

-

>

I’d write you a song, but no melody is beautiful enough to fit you.

>

Even Julie calls that one cheesy but for once, even though she sits right there with them, Carrie has nothing to say.

Flynn looks on confused while Carrie scribbles into her notebook with a pinched expression on her face, pen gripped so tightly that it looks like it might break any second.

“She needs to finish this new Dirty Candy song by tomorrow”, Nick explains.

“Yeah and I hate everything I write the second it’s on the page!” Carrie growls, clearly completely lost in whatever she’s dealing with.

-

>

I try to tell you every day,

But you just take my breath away

These rhymes seem silly and never enough

Forgive me, I am blinded by love

>

“Coming on a bit strong there.”

And she’s back.

-

>

Hi Flynn,

I think I’m giving up on the rhyming- It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? Also I swear I’m not a stalker! Just a girl who likes you a lot and is too scared to tell you.

You looked so pretty at the dance yesterday, and you were awesome as a DJ- you always are.

>

“Surely you must be fed up with this nonsense by now?” Carrie asks, when Flynn passes her on her way out of the classroom, the newest note folded neatly in her hand.

The thing is- Flynn is annoyed. But not exactly by the letters. Her secret admirer is sweet and earnest, seems to love music as much as Flynn and all of her friends do and the little poems always brighten her day.

What’s annoying is that she still can’t figure out who this mysterious person with a crush on her is. And that the person she wishes it was is intend on mocking the whole thing to the best of her abilities.

Every time a new note shows up, Carrie is there, ready to tear it into pieces with pointed words and vicious critiques.

Flynn tries to not let it affect her too much. Otherwise, Carrie has been perfectly civil, friendly even and it feels like a bit of their old friendship is restoring, slowly, piece by piece. And what she says about the letters is mostly directed at this person that none of them really know, not at Flynn herself.

It still feels personal, somehow.

-

>

Flynn,

I had a bad day today, but you were really nice to me. It made it all a bit better. Thank you.

>

-

It’s when Carrie one day snatches one of the notes right out of Flynn’s hand to call it “embarrassing”, “awkward” and “clumsy”, that something in her just snaps.

“You know what Carrie”, she says, loudly, almost shouting it even, “can you, for once, just keep your unnecessary comments to yourself?”

Almost immediately, Carrie’s arrogant smile falls and Flynn uses the moment of surprise to steal back her piece of paper.

“You’ve been so mean to this person. I don’t know what your issue is here but I need you to back off on the attitude. I might not know who this is from, so I don’t even know if I like whoever is writing these but I like the letters.”

Carrie looks absolutely shocked, completely frozen in place, her jaw clenched tightly. Good.

“Yes, they might not be perfect”, Flynn barrels on, “but they’re honest, and raw and so, so kind and I can tell that they come from the heart and isn’t that the most important thing?!”

Without waiting for an answer, Flynn picks up her bag that she leaned against the lockers when she discovered the note and brushes past Carrie. She knows she’s a bit too worked up, but it has been a trying week.

Only a few moments later she realizes that she saw tears forming in Carrie’s eyes.

-

In Spanish class, Flynn notices the glaring absence of Carrie in the seat in front of her and a little bit of guilt starts building up inside of her. She has no idea what’s going on, but something clearly is up so after their teacher finally lets them go, Flynn goes on to try and find Carrie.

The music room is one of the first places Flynn thinks of and sure enough, she can hear gentle piano notes and Carrie’s voice singing very quietly drifting through the slightly cracked door.

Before barging in, Flynn stops short when she recognizes parts of the lyrics. Is that- one of the poems she received only a week ago?

Slowly, she tiptoes into the room. What she sees is Carrie, cross-legged at the piano, bent over her notebook full of scribbles that she’s clearly reading from and that somehow contain parts of the poetry that has been a big mystery to Flynn and all of her friends for so long. Just now Carrie’s singing the words that are undeniable not just poems, but song lyrics, and she has added onto them and-

Flynn doesn’t understand anything anymore.

“Carrie!” she says, before she can stop herself. Carrie flinches and bolts away from the piano, the chair clattering down to the floor in the process.

“Flynn”, she breathes, looking terrified.

“I-“, Flynn stutters, “What’s going on? Is this some kind of prank?” She doesn’t think she could take that.

“No!” Carrie yells and immediately winces at her volume. “No, I would never do that to you”

“Then why-“, Flynn is getting more confused every second, “you wrote those? I thought you hated- the notes, I though you hated the notes”

To her horror, Carrie is now actually crying.

“I do hate the notes, I mean I feel so stupid, you hate Valentine’s Day and then I send you a rose, but I just- I like so much and I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t and then I wrote you those notes but they always sounded so stupid to me”

Carrie is full on panic rambling now and Flynn is barely processing all this new information that is thrown at her.

“I just couldn’t stop myself and then you said you actually like the notes? But I know you’d never like me, as a person, I mean I am awesome as a performer but horrible as a friend, let alone as a girlfriend and-“

“Carrie-“, Flynn tries to intersect, “Carrie!”

Carrie stops and finally looks at her, wide eyed.

“I do like you, as a person”, Flynn says. Her heart is beating out of her chest but she is not letting this go.

“I- what?” Carrie looks as confused as Flynn felt just a minute ago. “You do?”

“Yes”, Flynn says and now she can’t stop the smile on her face, “I really like you. Actually, I always wished those notes were from you.”

Carrie blinks. “You. Okay. Okay. Um- I really didn’t-“

Flynn laughs. “Deep Breaths Carrie.”

“I don’t really know what to do with this now, I’m not good at all this”, Carrie says, waving her hands around but she’s smiling too now, wider with every moment.

“How about a date? Milkshakes?” Flynn asks and she doesn’t even feel afraid anymore.

“Yes”, Carrie says, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “I’d love that.”

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Form 8938 (Brick/Blossom)

Summary: Blossom returns home after a very late night spent working, only to find Brick still awake working on their tax return. She decides to help...

This one is for @genovah for the PPG Secret Santa! This Reds one-shot is highly NSFW so please read at your own discretion. Happy New Year, simps!

xxx

Brick was angry.

Blossom could tell from the way he said “It’s fine” when she apologized: like he was appraising the mediocre fifteen dollar table wine a guest brought to dinner to be polite. She glanced at the digital clock on the microwave behind him: 12:24 a.m. Yes, it was very late for a Wednesday. Her client was hoping to close an eighty million dollar Series D financing in the morning, and Blossom was all but fending for herself and the junior associate she’d sent home early out of sympathy for the girl’s personal life. Must be nice to have one of those lately.

“I am sorry,” she apologized again, dropping her bag in one of the empty chairs at the kitchen table where Brick was hunched over his laptop and a scattering of paperwork and receipts. She brushed her long, red bangs out of her face. “We’re closing tomorrow. It’s always herding cats at the eleventh hour.”

“I said, it’s fine.” Brick busied himself organizing papers that didn’t need organizing and didn’t look up at her. There were lines under his eyes. His tie was missing, and his collared shirt was aggressively unbuttoned as though he was too hot. His short hair was mussed. He looked tired, yet determined. He looked like he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight until their tax return was finally finished.

Blossom appraised him, considering. It was late. She was exhausted. A hot shower beckoned her out of her high-waisted skirt. But she felt a warm flutter down her spine at the sight of his fingers gripping his hair, a pen tucked behind his ear, and all this work he insisted on doing himself because it needed to be done right. If he was going to be up, he might as well be up with company.

She plucked the pen from behind his ear and chewed on the cap as she pulled the nearest document toward her. “Instructions for Form 8938,” she read the bold, black typeface and quickly scanned the first page. “Foreign financial assets.” She glanced at Brick, who watched her over his laptop. “I take it this is the first year you’ll be reporting your offshore accounts.”

“I’d rather not get nailed for tax fraud, of all the things.”

“How romantic.” She examined the report he’d begun filling out in his neat script. “Says here there’s a seventy-five percent penalty for fraudulent underpayment.”

“Fraud is hard to prove.”

She held his gaze. “Not that hard.”

The challenge hung over the kitchen table between them. Brick closed his laptop with a click. Blossom returned her attention to the IRS instruction printout and ignored the skip in her heartbeat.

“Let’s see.” Blossom leaned over the printed out instructions and Form 8938 itself neatly stacked next to them. “Line 3, Specified Individual…” She took a moment to review the defined term in the instructions and smiled to herself. “Married, filing jointly.” She checked the appropriate box.

The sound of Brick’s chair sliding across the hardwood floor and his footsteps coming around the table stirred something in the pit of her belly, but she didn’t look up, feigning total focus on her task.

“Part I. Foreign Deposit and Custodial Accounts Summary,” she read aloud. Splayed across the table in tidy piles were more print-outs: bank statements in English, French, and Spanish from a number of different institutions around the world. She selected the nearest one for an account in the Cayman Islands and stared for a long time at the healthy balance summary.

A sudden flush of heat hit her back through her silk blouse, and she shivered. He was right behind her. “I already did the math, over there.” Brick’s hand closed over hers and pushed it to a notepad full of his handwritten calculations. Blossom followed the parade of numbers to their robust summation, and she bit her lip. “Do you need me to check it?”

His voice was a murmur very close to her ear. “I already did.”

Of course he already did.

When his other hand found its way under the hem of her skirt, Blossom’s breath hitched. His fingers were unconscionably warm as they swept over the back of her thigh.

“What’s next?” he asked.

Blossom pressed her lips together to keep silent as his brazen fingers crept higher up her thigh beneath her skirt and his other hand pulled her bangs from her face.

“Next?” she asked, intensely focused on his thumb brushing the bottom curve of her ass.

He tucked her bangs behind her ear and pressed his lips to the shell. “You promised you’d help with the taxes.”

Goddamnit, she had promised that.

Returning her attention to the Form 8938 instructions, Blossom read aloud: “Part III. Summary of Tax Items Attributable to Spe—” She cut herself off in a breathy gasp when Brick pressed two fingers against her sex.

“Attributable to…?” His voice gave away nothing.

Blossom clenched her fist to get her bearings. He didn’t move his fingers at all, which was downright petulant of him. The instructions swam in her vision, and it took all of her willpower to resume reading. “Attributable to Specified Foreign Financial Assets.”  

His breath was warm at her neck, but his fingers were warmer as they hooked around the edges of her panties and dipped into her heat. Blossom went slack-jawed and closed her eyes. The urge to close her thighs and keep him there where she needed him most was almost overwhelming.

“Enter the following assets,” Blossom managed over the slippery sound of his fingers shifting.

“Can you be more specific?” Brick spoke for confirmation, because he was as pedantic as he was attractive.

Blossom moved her pen to the first line item: “Interest,” she said.

His hand in her hair yanked hard, and she hissed.

“Dividends,” she breathed.

He pressed a kiss that was more teeth than lips to the tender flesh behind her ear.

“Royalties—ah!”

Brick’s slick fingers pulled out and swept over her clit, and her elbows gave out along with her voice. Her body writhed, but the hand in her hair anchored her with a warning push of power that scattered down her spine in a thousand crimson sparks. Regrettably, he abandoned his impulsive detour and sank his fingers back inside her.

“Record the interest on my Cayman account,” he said conversationally, like a jerk.

Blossom’s hand shook as she picked up the pen she’d dropped and, miraculously, didn’t disintegrate it with her powers as she wrote down the number he’d previously calculated in his notes. “Can we just—”

“Move on to the next part. I don’t have anything else to disclose under Part III,” he interrupted, quiet but stern.

Tractable and much hotter than she was used to feeling, Blossom pinched her painted lips in a grimace and searched for the next section. Was she so pliant? So easy? No, never, that wasn’t her. She felt out of character, out of body, out of control…

And she reveled in it.

“Part VI. Detailed Information for Each “Other Foreign Asset” Included in the Part II Summary,” she read as he continued to massage her with languid resolve. “Enter a description of the account or asset. If the asset is stock or securities, include the class or issue of the stock or securities.” Blossom’s breathing deepened and frost froze the hairs on the back of her neck, but Brick’s warm lips melted it as soon as it bloomed.

“Example 16,” she delivered with iron goddamned resolve. “You own 100 shares of XYZ Company, an Italian S.A. A sufficient description is ‘100 shares of Class—ah Brick!”

He rubbed the pads of his fingers directly over her clit like he was out to unravel her, and he was absolutely succeeding as she lost her tenuous grasp on reality and shame and pushed back with Super strength. His free hand abandoned her hair and flew to her hip to lock her in place. Pressed flush against the growing bulge in his pants, Blossom tossed her head back on his shoulder and whimpered.

His voice in her ear was honey over hot iron. “You’re fucking soaked.”

Rare were the occasions when Blossom lost her head. She’d lost more than that when Brick walked back into her life after years out of sight, out of mind. But she had long ago accepted that a part of her had always belonged to him and always would, until the demise even their deified powers couldn’t save them from caught up to them, as it catches up to all mortals.

But for now, she could lose what remained of herself in his strong arms and that wicked mouth that challenged her dominance even now. Especially now, as she let him hear her pleasure while he fucked her with his fingers.

“I’m not clear on that last bit,” he said in that same, smooth baritone because he was once a villain and would never let her forget it.

Blossom snapped the pen like a twig and shoved her hips back against him. “One hundred shares of Class D stock.”

His laugh was not so smug anymore as long as she could feel his erection straining against the small of her back. “That’s my girl.”

He gave her exactly what she needed with a few serious strokes that snapped the taut coil in her belly and had her spilling her pleasure in his hand and her voice to the farthest corners of the room. Writhing, Blossom’s legs threatened to give out until Brick’s hands steadied her hips and wrenched her ponytail once more. His damp fingers left a dark stain on her skirt that she could not have cared less about right now.

She made a haphazard attempt to shove the ordered piles of paper and notes away, but gave up a couple seconds later when he’d gotten his belt unbuckled and entered her completely without hesitation. Blossom choked on a wanton sob and arched lower over the table to give him a better angle.

Behind her, Brick finally began to crack in earnest. “Fuck, Blossom… I’m not going to last—”

Blossom pushed back to meet his thrusts, her knuckles smoking with pink power as she held her angle and thanked their foresight for bolting this table to the ground in case of spontaneous Super sex after midnight on a Wednesday.

She smiled, euphoric, as their power mingled and she felt him near his brink. “So don’t,” she dared him, and floated off the floor and inch for a deeper angle.

Brick made a choking sound and came hard with his fingers knotted in her hair. Breathing hard, it took him a minute to recover from his stupefied high. Blossom hummed and sat up on her elbows as he slowly pulled out and adjusted his pants.

“Were you really listening to the instructions?” Blossom asked, pushing her sweaty and fast-freezing bangs out of her face.

Brick looped an arm around her waist to pull her against him. “Were you?”

His fingers brought her jaw in line with his, and he kissed her as deeply and longingly as a man who had much more than simply the carnal urge for release on his mind. The tax forms were hopelessly disheveled across the table’s surface.

She looped her arms around his neck. “Not really. We may have to go over them again.”

“Mm.” His red eyes were a dark carmine in the low lamplight, and Blossom felt her heartbeat quicken all over again to have his full and undivided attention.

“It’s after 1 a.m.,” she said.

“They’re not due until Monday.”

“Plenty of time to go over the numbers again.”

He chuckled, low and thrilling. “Only you could get me hard over following rules.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

His eyes fell to her lips. “The return’ll take up the whole weekend.”

“Well, I do have bootcamp with Bubbles on Saturday—”

“Skip it.” He gave her ass a promising squeeze, and Blossom gasped softly. “Some rules are better off broken.”

“You’re terrible,” she accused, as she often did.

“I’m right,” he returned in familiar, teasing kind.

“So you are.” She rose up on her toes to kiss him one more time. It would be a tired night and an early morning back to work, and the weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

After all, they still had the rest of Form 8938 to fill out.

xxx

That tax form is a real IRS tax form the I read carefully in its entirety all in the service of accurate simping. I copy-pasted the most titillating parts of the instructions into this fic. The shit I do for this ship, y’all…

Happy holidays, fellow simps!  

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Books and Answers

Masterpost (makes this easier, this is chapter 25 btw), Ao3

Word count: 2842

Warnings: stuff from the last chapter mentioned, implied past trauma and flashback, hostage situation, syringes, implied human experiments

Logan woke up to a splitting headache.

He blinked and the light falling past the curtains burned in his eyes.

He winced and it took him another few minutes to be able to open his eyes.

A glass of water stood on his bedside table, together with a small pill. He reached out slowly and drank almost the entire glass before he took the pill and drank the rest.

Virgil must've left it out for him-

Virgil.

Logan shot up almost falling over from a wave of dizziness.

He had strangled Virgil.

There was no body on the floor.

So he at least hadn't killed him.

He had strangled his son.

Fuck.

Logan ran out into the hallway and turned around himself once before rushing to Virgil's room.

"Virgil?!" his own voice made his headache spike.

The room was empty. The bed as unmade as ever, the skulls neatly on their shelves, drawings and posters on the walls.

Logan nearly fell down the stairs and burst into the empty kitchen, went on into the living room and ran back up the stairs.

"Virgl? Are you here?"

He ripped open the bathroom door and stopped.

The sink was covered in tiny bits of dark purple hair. A carton was visible in the trash can.

Logan grabbed it and pulled it out.

Purple hairdye.

Had Virgil dyed his hair?

But where was he now?

There was no blood anywhere so at least Virgil hadn't cut again.

But he was still gone.

Logan realised a few minutes later that his shoes were gone and dialled Emile's number. Maybe Virgil had gone to Emile and Remy. They were like uncles to him after all.

---

Janus woke up slowly.

They were cuddling someone and opened their eyes to figure out who the actual fuck was in their bed.

Oh, right. Virgil had come over last night.

He looked different.

His hair had been shoulder-length for years now but he'd shaved most of it, leaving him with an undercut and purple hair at the top of his head. There were no tear tracks left on his face and the bags under his eyes were as dark as ever, making Janus wonder how long he'd gone without sleep this time. They glanced at their alarm clock. It'd ring in a minute.

They waited, watching the long thin second's finger move steadily until it reached the 12 again and the minute finger moved to quarter past.

A shrill noise cut through the room and Janus reached out over Virgil and turned it off.

"What-?" Virgil squinted and pat against their arm as if trying to find out what it was in his halfawake state.

"Morning," Janus greeted him. "Are you okay?"

Virgil stared at them for a moment before shrugging. After the way, he'd shown up Janus wasn't sure if they could expect much better.

"What day is it?" Virgil asked.

"Don't fucking know," Janus chuckled.

They grabbed their phone and unlocked it.

"We're lucky," they said. "It's Saturday. We don't have school today."

"Thank fucking god."

Janus contemplated for a moment before speaking up again.

"Can I ask what happened yesterday?" they finally asked. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Virgil looked away from them.

"Maybe... Maybe later but I don't think," he shook his head. "Not now."

"Okay," Janus nodded and got up, grabbing a shirt they had felt on the back of their desk chair. "Are you hungry? Mum bought some new cereal yesterday."

"A bit... Won't your parents ask why I'm suddenly here? Or who I am?"

Janus hesitated.

Right, neither Mum nor Luan had ever met Virgil in all the years they'd been friends. Even when they'd talked about him they had never actually used a name. They'd only ever called him 'a friend' or similar titles. Then again, both Mum and Luan tended to go to bed as early as possible to catch as much sleep as possible, since they had to get up early. Even while still looking for work Mum tended to be busy for the entire day and stood up with Luan. So, it wouldn't sound too weird if Janus just said that Virgil had come by after they had gone to bed. They'd just have to leave out the fact that it had been like three am and that Virgil had climbed in through the window and cried.

"I'll handle it," they said. "Don't worry. I'm an excellent liar."

The two of them left the small room and made their way through the apartment, Virgil's eyes scanning everything they passed as if he was looking for hidden clues to a puzzle only he knew about. Janus knew the feeling. It was how they constantly felt around Virgil.

The smell of coffee greeted them as they entered the kitchen.

"Morning," Luan mumbled and took a sip of his big 'Good Morning' mug. It had a jawning cartoon sheep under the phrase and had been his favourite ever since Mum had given it to him for Valentines Day six years ago.

He did a double-take and rubbed over his eyes as if to check he wasn't seeing things before staring at Virgil, looking vaguely confused.

"I could've sworn there was only one teenager in this household," he muttered into his coffee before calling towards the bedroom. "Babe? Did you have another child while I was at work?"

"What?" Mum called back her footsteps came closer and she stopped in the door to the living room.

"This is my friend, Virgil," Janus introduced quickly. "He came over after you two went to bed last night."

"Just some stress at home," Virgil mumbled and shrugged awkwardly.

"Oh," Luan nodded. "That makes a lot more sense. I need more caffeine."

"Nice to meet you, Virgil," Mum took her own steaming mug from the counter. "Do either of you want any coffee?"

"Not today, thanks," Janus got out two bowls for cereal while Virgil just shook his head.

---

Patton turned on the speakers he hadn't needed in months as soon as he got down into the shop.

The calming music filled the shop and he let himself just listen and breath for a few minutes.

He knew exactly what had triggered the night terror. He had almost expected it even.

He really had to start turning off the news as soon as they talked about any sort of science involving labs and experiments.

Patton gently caressed the petals of a full red rose. He'd take it slow today. Give himself the time he needed to fully believe that he was safe, that they couldn't and wouldn't hunt him down and drag him back there.

He was fine, he reminded himself, taking a sip of his rose tea.

About an hour after opening the bell over the door rung for the first time.

"Good morning- Logan!" he felt his heart leap at the sight of Logan. it had been almost a month and he'd missed him far more than he'd expected to.

"Hello, Patton," Logan smiled at him. He looked tired and a few strands of hair hung into his face. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," Patton smiled back at him. "Is something wrong?"

He reached out with his powers and felt Logan's distress, panic and soul-crushing guilt. He could guess that something bad had happened but it was hard to tell where the emotions came from through the chaos they had created in Logan.

"I- Uhm... I made a mistake," Logan said. "Have you seen Virgil by any chance? He won't answer his phone and no one I asked so far saw him."

"No, I haven't," Patton frowned. "What happened?"

"I did something... bad and he ran away last night. And I understand that he doesn't want to see me right now but I just have to make sure that he's alright."

"Okay," Patton said. "Well, as I said, I didn't see him but if I do I'll tell you. And I'll check if he's alright."

Logan gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Patton. It means a lot."

For a moment they stood in silence.

Patton wasn't sure what to say.

Part of him wanted to apologize for the kiss but he wasn't sure if he really should.

"I'm sorry I didn't contact you after our date," Logan said suddenly. "I didn't mean to ghost you like that."

"Oh, it's fine. But... could I maybe have your number?"

"Of course," Logan pat down his pockets. "I... forgot my phone at home."

Patton chuckled.

"Don't worry, I have a pen," he grabbed it from under the counter and took Logan's hand. He wrote down his mobile number and handed Logan the pen, offering his own hand.

Logan took it so gently as if he was afraid of breaking Patton.

Slowly he wrote down his number and it tickled slightly.

Then he put the pen down again.

"I have to go now but... I'd like to go out for coffee again. Or maybe something similar. It was nice."

Patton nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I'd like that. I hope you find Virgil. Like I said, if I see him I'll make sure he's okay and tell you."

"Thank you. And if you do and he doesn't want to see me...  can you please tell him that I'm so, so sorry. He doesn't have to forgive me but I just want him to know that."

"Okay," Patton nodded. "Will do. I hope I'll see you soon."

Logan gave him one last tired smile before turning and leaving the shop again.

Patton watched him go and reached out with his powers again.

Logan was still upset, worried and guilty but the panic had lessened ever so slightly. Considering the situation Patton counted that as a small win. He hoped he'd get a chance to talk to Virgil.

Part of him wanted to know what had happened, the other part wasn't sure if it was his place to know. He wasn't a part of their family and this clearly was a thing between the two of them but he also wanted to help. Not only because he cared about Logan but also because he was worried about Virgil, running around somewhere in these streets, probably just as upset as Logan - if not more - and maybe making bad decisions.

He smelled at his tea and enjoyed the warmth on his face for a moment.

For the following hours, nothing much happened, a few customers, a small chat with Ms Cho and nearly two pots of tea.

Patton closed the shop a little earlier than usual and moved up to his apartment to wrap himself up in his blanket and watch Cartoons.

He turned on the TV and lazily flicked through the channels. Some documentary, a Cartoon for toddlers - not really the kind he wanted to see, a reality show, a cooking show where Gordon Ramsay was yelling at some poor guy about carrots, the news -

Patton stopped as the sight on the monitor behind the moderator registered and turned up the volume.

"- according to the authorities there are seven hostages in the building. The Professor hasn't made any demands for their release so far. We'll keep you posted as soon as anything happens."

Patton's stomach dropped.

Seven hostages.

He couldn't stand by and do nothing. Logic was his opponent, it was his duty to fight him and free those poor people from his captivity. He downed the last bit of his tea and stood up to get dressed.

Damn Logic.

While he put on his armour, hoodie and boots one thought wouldn't leave him alone.

This wasn't Logic's style at all.

Hostage situations were something he expected from Psyche, maybe sometimes from Sleep or gangs, but not from Logic. Something was off with it.

He pushed the thought aside and climbed out of the window, only turning on the LEDs in the heart on his chest when he was a few buildings away from his apartment.

It took him fifteen minutes to reach the library Professor Logic had taken over.

Police were surrounding the building and one of them was trying to get Logic's attention.

Patton landed next to him and the man stopped, putting down the megaphone.

"I'll try to get in through the roof and get the hostages to safety," Patton told him. "Try to keep him distracted.

"Be careful," the policeman frowned.

"Will do."

He scaled the side of the building and looked around on the roof for an entrance.

He quickly found a small window which he managed to slip through and found himself in a dusty attic, full of old books. He sneezed and froze, listening for footsteps.

Silence.

Good.

That meant nobody had heard him.

Slowly Patton snuck towards the stairs and down into the highest floor of the library. and looked down through the balcony like opening down all the way.

The hostages were on the lowest floor, huddled together, but he couldn't see Logic anywhere. Maybe he was finally talking to the police now.

Patton snuck down the stairs, listening for anything suspicious all the while.

On the second floor, he hesitated again, just to make sure that Logic was nowhere near the hostages.

There were four college students, whispering among each other, a woman holding her baby close and rocking back and forth, a man nervously biting at his nails and a couple holding onto each other tightly. They glanced into different directions from time to time as if looking for the Professor. So they didn't know where he was either.

Patton stepped back from the railing.

"Hello, Heartrate," a smooth voice behind him made him freeze.

Slowly Patton turned around.

"Hello, Logic."

Professor Logic looked tired, his usually so bright eyes dull and lifeless.

"I'm glad you came here."

Patton blinked in surprise.

"And why is that? Do you want to fight me?"

"No," Logic shook his head. "I don't. I want to ask you something."

"Really? Why I don't approve of you holding these poor people, maybe?" he hissed.

"Oh, them? They can go. I don't care for them. I just want to talk to you."

"Doesn't look like they can go."

"Then tell them," Logic shrugged. "I don't care."

Patton frowned. Logic's emotions seemed to indicate that he was speaking the truth. Slowly he turned around.

"Hey!" he called to get the people's attention. "You can leave! Everything will be alright! Just go outside!"

They seemed to hesitate for a moment before scrambling towards the doors.

Patton watched them go until they were out of sight, just to be sure that they'd be alright. Even if Logic didn't seem to be lying, he couldn't be sure.

"So," Patton turned back around, "what do you want from me?"

Your powers. Are they your fault or someone else's'?"

"What?" Patton asked, taken aback.

The words "None of your business" were at the tip of his tongue. The anxiety from last night was still in his bones and just thinking about it made it tingle all over again. It was none of Logic's business. Patton's trauma wasn't his to know about. The scars on his arms were his own to count and see in the bathroom mirror.

"Are they your fault or someone else's'? If it makes you more comfortable, mine are most definitely my fault."

"What do you mean by that?" Patton's frown deepened.

Had Logic done the kind of experiments to himself that they had done to him?

Patton felt his throat close up, memories he'd tried to bury years ago, flashing through his mind.

Logic frowned.

"Do you... You don't actually know where powers come from?" he asked slowly.

Oh, Patton knew too well where his powers were from. The syringes, tests and transfusions were haunting him.

Logic looked away for a moment.

"Trauma," he suddenly said. "Powers come from trauma. There is a gene few people have that triggers a trauma response, resulting in people developing powers."

Trauma?

It hadn't been the tests?

Or, it had. Just mot in the way Patton had thought for years.

"Mine was my fault thanks to my own bad decisions. Who's fault are your's?"

Patton clenched his teeth, trying to process the new information. If powers stemmed from trauma, that meant all of them were traumatised, right? Not just him but Logic, Sleep and Psyche too. Were they really all just traumatised people fighting each other?

"Someone else's," he said tonelessly.

"Mhm. I see. Can I ask how your powers developed? Did it happen quickly or fast?"

"Why are you asking me these questions? I'm not sure. I think they came slowly. One thing after the other until I just... had them."

"Thank you. I just wanted to know if there was a difference," Logic nodded to himself and turned to leave. "Goodbye."

"Wait! Why did you want to know this?!"

"If strange things happen around town or something, it's my fault. We'll see what kind of powers will be the result."

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

[sunlightdances]

At Peace (Steve Rogers x Reader One Shot)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Rating/genre: Romance, a bit of angst. PG for a single swear word. Summary: Sort of Endgame compliant (we’re rewriting a scene and keeping some folks alive). When Steve and Tony go to Camp Lehigh to get the Tesseract, they’re almost caught. Steve turns to the one person he thinks can help them get out unscathed, and finally closes the one remaining door to his past so he can move on in the future. Author’s Note: No Endgame hate here, please! I didn’t hate the ending for Steve, but didn’t love it either. This is my take on what could have happened with the addition of a reader insert. I came up with this idea in the shower and wrote it in 2 hours so pls be nice if it sucks!!!!

“You know,” Tony muses on Steve’s right, “You’re not normally the one with the stupid ideas. It’s a nice change, honestly.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but the pair keep walking, eyes downcast, hats pulled low over their foreheads. Yes, this is probably the worst idea and it’s sure to screw the whole plan. But what else do they have to lose?

“That woman from the elevator is already onto us, so this is our best shot.”

“It’s our best shot to get arrested, yes.”

Steve stops short, jaw clenching hard. “Do you have a better idea?”

Tony sighs. “I guess not. Come on, let’s go meet your woman--”

Steve stops short again, his tone icy. “Don’t--” He shuts his eyes. “Please, Tony, for once in your life, leave the talking to me.” There’s a sad undertone to his voice, a kind of desperation that Tony doesn’t hear often, so he nods, leaving the jokes behind.

Steve finds the office door he’s looking for, and takes a deep breath before opening it and shoving Tony inside, locking the door behind the both of them.

Peggy stands, affronted. “Excuse me, this is a private office--” She stops as Steve steps into the light, her eyes widening for half a second before they narrow.

Steve isn’t sure which Peggy to expect. He doesn’t think she’s going to break down and cry, but he’s also not entirely sure she’s not going to shoot him either. Tony takes a large step back when she glances down and grabs the first thing she can threaten them with - a letter opener.

“Tell me who you are, right now.” Her voice is stern, though a little shaky.

“Peggy, put it down.”

“If you think--”

“It’s me, Peg. It’s Steve.”

He sees her shoulders sag, though she doesn’t drop her guard. “You’re dead.”

“Not anymore,” Tony mutters, and Steve elbows him hard in the ribs.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I can prove it,” Steve says, taking a small step forward, heart tightening when she takes an imperceptible step backward. “That last conversation we had, when I was in the plane. I told you I’d meet you at the Stork Club. That we’d have the band play something slow so I wouldn’t step on your feet.” He smiles softly. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember, you idiot.” She says, voice choked, a single tear making its way down her cheek, despite the letter opener she’s still brandishing.

“I don’t have a lot of time, but I need your help,” Steve says as he gets a step closer, close enough to gently grasp her wrist and lower it.

“Steve.” She says on a sob, and then she’s in his arms.

.

.

.

“Let me get this straight. You need to steal the cube and something from Hank Pym’s lab?” Peggy asks incredulously.

Tony snorts. “After everything you’ve heard, and that’s the part you’re not sure about?”

She gives Tony a look. “Mr. Stark, you may be your father’s son, but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t find your jokes all that hilarious at the moment.”

Steve bites back a smile. “I know we’re asking a lot,” he says, serious once more, “but the entire world is at stake. Please, we have to get out of here unseen. If we fail at this--”

“We’re not going to.” Tony says, firm. “There’s no other option.” He meets Steve’s eyes. “Whatever it takes, remember?”

Steve swallows. All the arguments and years lost between him and Tony evaporate. Just like that, they’re brothers in arms once more. “Whatever it takes,” he murmurs.

Meeting Peggy’s gaze, she looks between the two, and Steve thinks he sees in the moment when it clicks for her how serious this is. “First of all, stop talking about the future in front of me. I’ve read enough novels to know that isn’t a good idea, and the two of you don’t need to get in any more trouble, clearly.”

“So you’ll help?”

She fidgets. “Yes. I’ll help you. I’ll schedule a meeting with Howard and Hank so they won’t be near their labs when you go down. I can’t do much about security, so you’ll have to be quick and stay out of sight.”

Steve nods, “Thank you.”

.

.

.

It’s not until over an hour later, after some sneaking around, some nearly getting caught, and Peggy having to save their asses yet again, that he gets a minute alone with her.

“I just wanted to-- I have to go back, but I couldn’t leave without telling you something.”

“Steve, don’t.”

“No, it’s-- it’s nothing that’s going to change anything.” Steve smiles. “I just want you to know-- I loved you, Peg. Still do, really.” He takes a deep breath. “Probably always will.”

“Steve,” it’s a warning, but there’s old feelings there that he can hear in her voice. “Then I need you to know -- I’m happy, Steve. You saved my life. You saved all of our lives. And I miss you terribly. Underneath it all, you were my closest friend.” Another tear slips out. “And I love you too, Steve. But you have to know that I’m happy. I found someone, and I have a career that I love… you did exactly what you were supposed to do. You saved the world.”

Steve’s eyes are a little glassy, but he hardens his resolve. “I have someone, now. In my time.” He shrugs. “I think, anyway. It’s been-- what we’re going through right now has been hard. I haven’t had the guts to have the conversation with her yet.”

Peggy smiles. “Still have no idea how to talk to women?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but chuckles. “I guess not.”

“You should be happy, Steve.” Peggy’s voice is soft.

Steve’s mind drifts to you, how happy you already make him, even if you don’t realize how much. He has so much he needs to talk to you about, but he has to keep you alive first. He has to keep himself and his family alive.

“Thanks, Peggy.” He says, and pulls her into his arms one last time.

.

.

.

They did it.

They actually fucking did it.

Steve has never been more tired in his entire life. He’s exhausted, and every single bone in his body hurts. He’s on his knees next to Tony who is barely hanging on, and has to take a minute to let it all sink in.

They won.

There’s voices all around him, frantic, asking about the cradle, and if the medical bay survived the explosion, and Steve has to fight to get back into Captain mode and save his friend’s life.

On his right, Natasha limps forward, her cheek bleeding, but a bittersweet smile on her face. “You did it,” she whispers, and Steve shakes his head.

“We did.”

He and Scott and Rhodey get Tony somewhere safe, and Bruce manages to stabilize him, despite knowing he’s going to lose functionality in a lot of his arm.

“I’ll just get one to match Tin Man, it’s fine,” Tony mumbles, and that’s when they all know he’s going to be okay. Leaving Pepper and Peter with Tony, Steve sets off to find the one person he had to force himself not to look for during the fight.

Some of the Wakandans are setting up a triage area in parts of the compound, and he passes through them as he scans the crowd until he spots you.

You’re there with Sam, his arm slung around your waist, yours over his shoulder, keeping all your weight off one leg. His breath leaves him when your eyes meet his, and he’s moving before he can even comprehend what he’s doing.

Your name escapes on a breath when he’s close enough, and then you’re letting go of Sam, almost collapsing into Steve’s arms.

“Steve,” you say, “You’re alive.”

“So are you,” he says, your face pressing into the side of his neck as you embrace. Steve shudders, thinking how close it could have been to losing you forever.

He finally has closure with Peggy, but he almost didn’t have it with you. He can’t make that mistake again.

He meets Sam’s eyes and nods, holding you to his side as he tries to give a half-hug to his friend, his heart overflowing with relief.

“Bucky?” He stutters, grief eating at him when he doesn’t see his oldest friend anywhere amongst the crowd.

“He was helping people get inside,” you say quietly, “He’s probably in there.”

Steve’s eyes fall closed at one more confirmation that so far everyone he loves is in one piece. “Of course he is,” he laughs quietly, “he’s just hoping there’s nurses there.”

“I heard that,” a gruff voice says behind him, and then there it is, the final piece of his family clicking into place.

The residences are part of the only bit of the compound that wasn’t destroyed by the explosion. Steve hasn’t been to his room in months - only when he would come by to check on Nat, and when they started work on time travel.

It’s a little strange for him to be in here now, but his focus isn’t on that. You were exhausted and after being told (none too gently) by Pepper that there wasn’t anything else for him to do now, he carried you back here.

He can’t seem to let you out of his sight.

He’s bone tired too, and the prospect of a nap with you is too much to resist. He carries you bridal style through the dark living area and kitchen until he reaches his bedroom, the sheets tucked neatly into the corners, army style.

You stir in his arms slightly, but otherwise stay asleep. He sets you down and gets you situated before straightening, his eyes committing every bit of this scene to memory. You have stitches on your cheekbone and dark circles under your eyes, and Steve curses himself for not checking in with you more, making sure you were okay…

He shakes his head and tries to quiet his thoughts. A shower first, and then he’s going to join you, propriety be damned.

His own body is tired, the serum working overtime to heal the cuts and bruises scattered across his arms and torso. His left hand is likely broken, he thinks, remembering it shaking when he tried to take off his broken shield.

He’ll worry about it in the morning. Right now he has more important things to sort out.

He’s only gone for fifteen minutes, but it’s enough for you to be awake when he comes back to the bedroom, and there’s a minute where you both stop and stare at each other, time suspended.

“Hey,” you say, and he crosses the room to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Hi.”

“Long day,” you sigh, winking at him.

“The longest.” He agrees, moving a little closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder.

“I can’t believe we actually pulled it off.”

Steve shakes his head. “I know. I’m-- You have no idea how relieved I was to see you.” He hears Peggy’s voice in his head telling him to finally have this conversation. He can’t put it off anymore. He’s done wasting time.

“Me too, Steve.”

He reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “I hope I’m not getting this all wrong. I-- I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

Your hand shakes a little in his. “Thank me?”

He smiles, nods. “Yeah. Thank you for… for giving me something else to fight for. Something that I never thought I’d have.”

“Steve…”

“Wait, just-- before you say anything, let me get this out.” He tells you everything, about how the trip back in time was with Scott and Tony, and how he had to go back even further and about Peggy. “She basically told me to quit moping and just tell you how I feel.”

You laugh, but it’s a little watery. Steve plows on, “I fell in love with you years ago, and I should have told you from the start. Either one of us could have died today, and I can’t let any more time go by without you knowing how much I care about you.”

Your throat is too tight to say anything, but you pull him close, arms around his torso, soaking up his warmth.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant,” he says quietly, lips brushing against your neck where his face is pressed. “The last few months… you didn’t deserve that.”

“You were focused on trying to save the world,” you scoff. “As excuses go, that’s a pretty good one.”

Steve pulls back a little so he can meet your eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds for me, but as long as you’re here, I think I can handle it.” He smiles, that crooked smile you’ve grown so fond of. “I’m done trying to make up for the mistakes of the past. I’m ready to move on.”

“Me too, Steve.” You whisper. “I love you.”

Steve knows there’s more to do - he has to help his family and the rest of the world adjust to their new lives post-Thanos, but knowing he finally has all the broken pieces of his life safe, alive, and by his side for the process? It’s more than he could have hoped for.

Going to sleep that night with you in his arms, he finally feels at peace.

[latestageyouth]

When you walk away (nothing more to say)

Chapter 1 - The new kid

Trigger warnings: uhhh selective mutism?, swearing, sympathetic Deceit and Remus

word count: somewhere around 3,000

Author's note: do not hold me responsible for any cringiness, I've written this a long time ago

As soon as the bell rang Roman put his books in the bag and was out the door.

"Remember to submit your essay on Thursday!" Mrs. Harrison said just in time for Roman to hear before he headed to his locker. There, he already saw Patton.

"Hey, Pat! Long time no see!" he waved to his friend and began to unlock his locker.

Patton looked at him with a confused smile, "We talked to each other an hour ago," he put his math textbook into his locker before closing it and hugging Roman.

"An hour too long," the other laughed. Roman opened his eyes to see Logan approaching them, "Hey, specs, finally decided to join us?"

At the mention of Logan, Patton spun around and hugged the other too, "Hey Lo!" Roman could practically see Logan tense under the touch, but he didn't pull back.

"Nice to see you too, Patton," after the said boy freed his from his embrace, Logan adjusted his glasses on his face, "So, shall we go eat? I haven't eaten anything all day, so I would appreciate if we could go to the cafeteria now," the other two nodded and headed down the hallway, Patton scolding Logan about how skipping meals isn't healthy.

The cafeteria food was awful, like always, but Logan didn't seem to mind. Well, not as much as the other two. Roman and Patton didn't get any food, Logan and Patton bickering about hypocrisy and food habits, Roman didn't pay attention, too busy scrolling Instagram to care. What pulled him to reality was an exaggerated cough. The cough also happened to stop Logan and Patton, all of them looking up to the source of the sound.

Patton smiled at the tall stranger in front of them holding a lunch tray, "Can I help you?" the stranger gestured at himself and then at a chair at their table. Patton furrowed his eyebrows, but the smile didn't leave his face, "I'm sorry, I don't understand? Maybe use your words?" the stranger's eyebrows shot up as if he was saying something passive-aggressive, then pointed at himself and then at the chair, but this time more firmly. Patton looked between Roman and Logan, "I am really sorry, I-"

"He's asking if he can sit with you, dumbass," a voice came a few tables from their own. All four of them looked in the direction of the speaker, which the three recognized as Damon, the gossip of the school, "And before you say anything, you can sit with us, people who actually understand that maybe you can't speak," he turned to look at Patton with a plastic smile, which Roman knew he was doing on purpose.

Roman rolled his eyes, "Wow, so thoughtful. Last time I checked, you were the one making bets on which one of the choir will lose their voice first due to the intense training."

"Actually, that was me," said the other man sitting at the table with Damon, smiling like he was proud of himself.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's even worse."

The stranger looked between the two tables, before walking over to the one where Damon and the other man sat. Roman scoffed, Logan squinted his eyes at the action, as if questioning the other's sanity, and Patton pouted about losing a potential friend, but soon the three got talking about biology homework that was due today, Roman begging Logan to let him copy it.

While that was happening, the stranger sat down next to the unnamed man, who was now smiling at him, "So why can't you speak?"

"Goddamnit Remus, you can't just ask people why they don't speak. Excuse him, I'm Damon," Damon laid a hand on his chest, "So, you're mute?"

The stranger shook his head.

Damon paused, "So you just don't speak?" the stranger shook his head again and pulled out a pen. He pointed at the notebook that Damon had on the table next to his textbook. Damon slid it to him. The stranger turned to the last page and tore it out as neatly as possible, then began writing on it. After he was done he turned it so the other two could see 'I have selective mutism, do you know what that is?'

"Oh, yeah," Remus exclaimed said, "Isn't that how people have an extreme phobia of speaking in public so much they, like, can't? I think I heard about that."

The unnamed man nodded, then began writing again: 'I can only speak to my uncle. He's a counsellor at this school, do you know him? Also, my name's Virgil'

Damon smirked, "Nice to meet you, Virgil. Yeah, we were both sent to Picani a few times obligatorily, like after Remus got into a fight with a teacher, or after I pierced my tongue in the school bathroom..." and Virgil just wondered what he had got himself into, "Do you call him Picani or Emile?" Virgil raised up two of his fingers, "Emile?" Damon concluded. Virgil nodded.

Remus chuckled, "That's so weird. You two look nothing alike. You don't even have the same eye colour."

Virgil shrugged, writing on the paper once more: 'lmao, yeah, a lot of people tell me that :D'

"I never saw you at the school, did you transfer here?" Damon tilted his head. This sentence took a little longer to write: 'I moved here after my mom lost custody of me (haha finally...) This is actually my first day here. Before, I went to a school in Jacksonville.'

"Oh my god, I've never been there! Is it true that they eat raccoons in there?" Virgil looked at Remus and slowly shook his head. At that, Remus let out a sad sound.

"What about your father?"

Virgil scrunched his shoulders and looked away.

"It's okay," Damon dismissively waved his arm, "I don't know who my dad is, so I understand if you don't wanna talk about him."

Virgil gave him a warm smile and moved his hand to his lips and down and away, and if Damon didn't know any better, he would've thought he was blowing him a kiss. The problem was, Damon didn't know any better. Virgil must've seen the confusion on his and Remus' face, as he wrote down something again: 'That means thank you in asl. Do u know sign language?"

Damon and Remus shook their heads.

'Do you wanna teach it?'

"Hell yeah!" Remus shouted loud enough so that the few tables, including the one with his brother, turned to look at them.

Damon scoffed, "Of course not, why would I wanna add to my list of skills and make it easier for more people to communicate with me? Such a waste of time.."

Virgil smiled at him and let out a chuckle. Damon reached over and took the piece of paper and pen, then began writing on it. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, which shot up his forehead when he was handed the paper and pen back.

"That's my number," Damon pointed at it.

Virgil flinched when his arm was pulled away, his sleeve being pushed up, only to have a pen pressed to it, "Aaand this is my number" Remus added a heart to it. He also tried to draw a dick on his arm but Virgil yanked his arm away and smudged the drawing out of existence.

Virgil signed 'thanks' again, only this time the couple actually smiled at him.

"We're having a movie night tonight, you wanna come?" Remus supported his head by putting his hand on his cheek, pushing it up slightly, "You gotta walk with us to my house though, gotta get there before they do," Remus looked at the table where Patton was pinching Logan's cheeks while Roman was recording the whole thing with his phone. Virgil contemplated it for a second. On one side, he met these people like 15 minutes ago. On the other side, he really needed to make some friends. Larger groups mean fewer bullies. Virgil nodded, "Great! I can't wait to piss them off!" it didn't sound sarcastic at all.

"What do you have next? Like as a period," Virgil took out his lesson plan, handing it to Damon, "Oh, we have the same class. Ms. Watson is the best teacher ever."

"She's a pain in the ass. A total drag. Everyone on this planet hates her," Remus exaggerated every insult with stabbing the table with the plastic fork, ultimately breaking it.

Damon nodded, "Yeah, basically."

The bell ripped through the cafeteria, some of the students, including Remus, flinching at the sound.

Remus began to walk away, "Well, girls, I'll see you later," he winked at them. Or at least they thought it was a wink, it looked more like a spasm. The two of them walked to the biology classroom together, Damon explaining how Virgil should just lay low and not cause trouble when it comes to Ms. Watson, or she'll blame you for third-degree murder. Virgil wasn't really sure if that was an exaggeration.

The classroom was a mess. Not in a literal sense, the class itself was pretty clean, but people were sitting and laying on tables, some we carving something into the chairs, other's sticking gum to the tables. Only one of the students waited by the door. Oliver, he was told. He watches for when the teacher comes. Speaking of the teacher, Oliver had turned away from the hallway and to his classmates, "She's coming! The fury is coming!"

Immediately, all the pupils were in their seats, no gum being chewed, no chairs being carved. They were all quiet when the teacher came in. She didn't say a word, closing the door after her and going straight to the attendance book. She furrowed her eyebrows after scanning down the page for a while.

"Virgil Blake?"

Virgil stood up, all of the eyes burning into him.

"You're new?" she raised an eyebrow.

Virgil nodded.

She closed the book, nodding slowly, "Do you have all the textbooks?"

Virgil nodded again.

She turned to the blackboard, "So, last week we talked about the cell structure of fungi. Today's lesson we will be..."

Virgil had sat down by that point, trying to focus on the lecture. That plan fell short as something hit the back of his neck, ending up in the hood of his hoodie. He reached behind, looking at the folded paper. He quietly tried to unwrap it, Damon already gaping at it before he even unwrapped it.

It was a drawing, a bad one at that. There was a cow with a plaid skirt and a black denim vest with a popped collar, similar to what Damon wore. There were also yellow circles scribbled over each other, which Virgil assumed was his hair. On the side was written 'COW' in capital letters. Virgil looked at Damon, who had pulled back to his chair and crossed his arms, looking at the floor next to him. Virgil quickly crunched up the paper and put it in his binder, the first thing he could think of to get it out of sight. Then he took a pen in his hand and began to write on his hand, eventually tapping Damon's shoulder and showing him the arm: 'I think you look really cool :)'

Damon chuckled sadly, looking up at Virgil, who smiled back. Damon put a hand to his lips and then away, mimicking the sign Virgil had taught him.

The heartfelt moment was interrupted by the deafening school bell, announcing the lesson was over, "Alright ya' little punks, the lesson is over, get ya' asses outta my classroom."

"Don't have to say that twice," Damon mumbled so quietly that even Virgil had to strain his ears to hear it. He had to resist the urge to burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of the day went as normal as it could, the three of them meeting in the hallway in-between lessons. Finally, the last bell rang and most of the class scrambled for the exit, including Patton and Virgil, who crashed into each other.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see ya there," Patton smiled up at Virgil, who had put his hands into a defensive manner and smiled tensely. Before Patton could say anything, Virgil was already being dragged away by Remus, who rembled about how they're gonna be there second and what not.

"Seriously, Roman is a fucking fast walker, we better hurry the fuck up," Damon had now joined the club, being dagged by Remus out of the building before any of them could protest.

"Oh, Virgil, here you are!" the three looked at the cheery voice, Remus not bothering to stop, so Virgil had to forcefully grab Remus by the back of his leather jacket, ultimately stopping him. His uncle, Emile, looked tensely between the three, "Already making friends I see?" Virgil nodded. He let go of Remus in favour of signing something that was beyond Damon's and Remus' knowledge, but Mr. Picani seemed to understand perfectly, "Why of course, just let me know if you need me to pick you up."

Virgil rolled his eyes and signed something shorter but still complicated. Mr. Picani seemed to tense up, "Are you sure?" he glanced between the two of them, then turned back to Virgil and spoke back, this time using sigh language. Virgil scoffed, signing back in a snappy manner, but then his expression relaxed. Mr. Picani nodded, "Alright then, I trust you. Just be sure to call me if you decide to stay the night," he hugged Virgil, who tried to scramble back and away from his uncle. Finally, Picani pulled back and Virgil stumbled a few steps back. Remus couldn't hold back a giggle. Virgil glared at him in exchange, signing something to Mr. Picani before he went to his car.

The three continued walking to Remus' house, which was not far from the school. Virgil noticed the chimney had smoke in it, smelling sweet. Remus reached under the welcome mat and pulled out a key, unlocking the door, "Ma, I'm home!"

"Hey, Remus, could you be an absolute sweetheart and go to the basement for more flour?" a short plum woman peeked out from the kitchen, "Hey Damon!"

"Hey, Ms. Addington."

Ms. Addington looked over at the other boy, "And who are you?" she smiled in a sweet way that makes teeth rot.

"That's Virgil," Damon gestured to him.

"Nice to meet you, are you new here?"

"He can't speak."

"Oh, my apologies then," she still smiled at him. She reminded him of uncle Emile in a way. She had this calm, cheerful atmosphere around her, he was sure they would get along well.

"Bad news, no flour to be found," Remus came out of the basement.

"Ah, fucking shit, what did I make all this shit for then?" she gestured at something on the counter that Virgil couldn't see. Wow, they would definitely not get along. For fuck's sake, uncle Emile had a swear jar.

"The hell do I know, you always try to be innovative," Remus answered, clearly unphased. He moved over to the living room, opening the tv stand where a bunch of DVDs were stacked on each other, "Alrighty, ladies, the selection for this movie night is: Nightmare on the elm street, The Black Cauldron, The Purge 2 ooooor," he reached into the back, "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

Damon plopped down onto the couch, "Purge 2, a classic."

Virgil was sitting on the other side, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus opened the DVD player, "Chainsaw massacre it is then,"

"Hell no! We watched that last time and I fucking threw up! I am not doing that again!" Damon seemed livid, and Virgil kicked Remus in the back to state his disagreement.

"Fine, fine, Purge 2, but first, popcorn," Remus got up and went to the kitchen, then Damon walked upstairs to get blankets. So Vigil waited, looking over the DVD collection they had. There were all kinds of movies, from Sleeping Beauty to The Godfather, it really was quite a lot. Virgil heard the door open, looking at the figures stepping in.

"And then I was like, 'You really are', and then she-Hey, what the hell are you doing here?!" Roman looked panicked for a brief second before Remus ran into the living room loudly announcing that the popcorn is done, and Damon went down with 3 tons worth of blankets on his back. They had all settled down on the couch, Remus laying across both of their laps with his face in his hands.

"We're watching The Puuuurge tonight!" he said in a sing-songy voice.

Roman scoffed, "No, we're not! We're watching Lion King!"

"Mom! Roman is trying to establish dominance over the DVDs again!"

A quiet sigh could be heard from the kitchen, "For the last time, Remus, I don't even know what that means. Roman, Remus was here first, and you already had a movie night yesterday, let him have it."

Virgil never thought he would see someone look so betrayed, "But-" Ms. Addington walked into the living room, tsk-ing Roman.

"You forced us to watch Bambi three movie nights in a row, we're going to watch The Purge. You and your friends can go upstairs like Remus did if you don't like it," she waved stirring spoon in front of his face like a knife.

Finally, Roman gave in, as he sat down onto the floor and crossed his arms and legs. Logan did too, but Patton said he'd rather not watch it and went home.

It was about halfway through the movie that Roman went to his room because he was tired. Then, Ms. Addington, Natalie, as Virgil had learned, fell asleep in her chair. Next was Logan to go, who got too tired from analyzing all the inconsistencies and bickering with Remus. Now, it was only the three that remained, Remus usually shouting words of encouragement for the killers or telling the other two better and more effective methods of killing someone. He was splayed over Damons and Virgil's legs, lying on his stomach. He eventually went out too, snoring slightly and drooling on Virgil's pants, which he found both disgusting and incredibly funny. Damon and Virgil sat in silence, eating what was left of the popcorn. Damon didn't last until the credits. He didn't get to see that the main character didn't actually kill the guy he was after, which Virgil thought was a shame. So there he was, surrounded by a pile of sleeping bodies and it was getting close to midnight. He tried to reach for his phone, but as it was in his back pocket, it was no use. He finally fell asleep at 1 am, shortly after Damon shifted in his sleep and collapsed against him, leaving Virgil with no chance to move.

[boku-no-biatch-academia]

Willing To Ride | Izuocha

Summary: Izuku and Ochako spend an afternoon at the fair together.

*****

Inko Midoriya ignored her son’s tears of pain as she dampened his hair with a spray bottle full of water, “Do you know what you guys are going to do at the festival tonight?”

Using a hairbrush, she tugged at her son’s tangled mop of hair with all her might, determined to brush out a stubborn knot. Izuku’s face was locked in a painful grimace as she pulled. With a hard plunk, she successfully defeated the knot, then opened a tub of gel and scooped some out with her fingers.

“Erm, I’m not sure. I think we’re just gonna walk around and probably shop or something,”

That evening, a local winter festival was taking place. Mr. Aizawa had told Class-1A that a number of hero agencies would be appearing there with seminars containing information about the pro hero business. He also told them that they would get extra credit if they attended the event and wrote a paper about what they had learned. Upon hearing the idea, Ochako Uraraka giddily invited Izuku to tag along with her since they were both free that weekend. Excited about the prospect of hearing from the pros, Izuku agreed to come.

“Ooh, sounds fun! Remind me again, who are you going with?”

“Uraraka,”

Oh, right!” she stopped for a moment to smile to herself, “Your little girlfriend,”

“G-girlfirend?!”

“Well, isn’t she?”

Izuku opened his mouth to respond immediately but found himself making incoherent noises.

Inko gelled up one of his curls and smoothed it down with a comb. With great care, she continued to work on his hair until it was slick and handsome-looking. It took quite a lot of work considering the amount of hair on top of his head, but in her eyes, it was worth the effort. He went from looking like a green nappy mophead to a classy, groomed boy that even Best Jeanist would be proud of. Satisfied with her work, her eyes gleamed as she watched him check his reflection in the mirror, commented on how handsome he looked, then suddenly rushed to find the extra hold hairspray she had forgotten to use.

Izuku’s face contorted a bit as he inspected his mother’s work. It wasn’t necessarily an expression of disgust, but he felt that it may have been a tad too formal for the occasion. For some reason beyond him, his mother decided that he should dress up before meeting with Ochako that night, rambling something about the importance of making a good impression on a girl when taking her out, looking like a gentleman, and so on and so forth. Heat rose in his freckled cheeks. He had never been invited out by a girl before, especially one as charming as Ochako Uraraka. Her smile had a radiance that lit up every room she walked into; it also had a tendency to ignite a spark within Izuku’s chest that made him feel sort of uneasy, but, in a good way. He gently tapped his fingers against his hair. Smooth and damp. Without his mother’s hairspray, he was sure that his disobedient curls would eventually pop right back out before the end of the night. As he turned to inspect the side, another thought popped into his head. What would Uraraka think about it? Not that it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things. His mom was the one who assumed they were going out on a date, not him, nor Uraraka. Right? Right. Of course. There wasn’t any reason for him to assume it was a date. Furthermore, there was no reason for him to be worried about her taste in men’s hairstyles. But it was a thought that came into the forefront of his mind anyway.

Ding dong!

“Oh! That must be her, I’ll get it!” Izuku saw his mother scurry past him with a can of hairspray and excitedly open the front door.

“Hello, Mrs. Midoriya! How are you?”

Ochako’s unmistakable voice could be heard from the doorway. Almost immediately, the realization of her presence in his home froze him in place. He didn’t dare to turn around, acting as if looking straight at her would set him ablaze. So, he stayed put and pretended to be invested in his reflection, sneakily stealing glances at the other two through the mirror. From his position, his mother blocked out most of Ochako’s figure, so all he could see was the swish of her brown hair.

“Oh, Deku! There you are,”

She came up from behind and circled around in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late. It took a little bit longer than expected to get ready, so I missed the first bus here,” she went for her bag that she brought with her and began to search in it for something.

Izuku took advantage now that she was distracted and actually looked up at her.

She had on a purple coat that was somewhat snug around her form and whose sleeves were a tad too short. It was most definitely something she was quickly growing out of. She probably couldn’t afford to buy a newer jacket with her tight budget, so she made due. There was also a cute black scarf wrapped neatly around her neck to match her black leggings. What stuck out the most to him was the cherry hue to her lips, which was either from some kind of lipgloss or a result of spending a little too much time at the mercy of the crisp, fall wind.

Seeing how nicely she dressed put him somewhat at ease, but not enough to take away his self-consciousness about his hair.

“It’s no problem,” he said.

“Oh, by the way, here’s your ticket!” Uraraka pulled out a stub of paper and handed it over to him. “I saw that they were selling them online, so I just decided to get them so we don’t have to wait in line.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do that! Izuku could have bought his own ticket,” Inko said.

Uraraka waved her hand and bashfully responded “Oh don’t worry, it’s my treat,”

Coming up behind Izuku, Inko placed her hands on his shoulders. “Well, isn’t she sweet?”

Sensing that his mother was about to say something that would embarrass him, Izuku stood up and put the ticket in his pocket.

“Well, I think we should go. It would be a shame if the lines for the rides got too long.” As two teenagers made their way out, Inko waved them off with the usual parting message of “Be safe!” and “Don’t stay out too late!”

About 20 minutes later, when they stepped off the bus, Izuku and Ochako were completely bombarded by the liveliness of the festival. Glimmering fluorescent lights buzzed in competition against traditional paper lanterns. A loud, roaring hum of festival-goers, moving parts, footsteps, chirps and barks and meows, and squeals. The scent of fresh, piping hot street food filled their chilly noses as the wind blew harshly against them. Filing through a crowd of people, they found themselves at a loss of what to do first. Should they go straight for the rides? Eat a snack? Watch one of the local street performers?

“Okay…let’s see what we’ve got here,” said Ochako, scanning with a hand placed over her brow. “We’ve got two immediate options: In this direction, we can play some games or grab a snack. But if we go this way, we can go straight for the rides….ahh, such hard choices!” she said, shaking her head. Then she wrinkled her face and stared at the ground for a second, and after that, she turned towards him.

“By the way, how come your hair looks like that?”

“Hm? Oh!” Izuku’s hands shot up to his hair and he patted it, remembering what it looked like. “I-it was my mom, she thought that I should something different with it…s-so,” his cheeks reddened. He was suddenly reminded again that a huge part of Ochako’s personality is her tendency to say exactly what’s on her mind, regardless of whether or not she was aware of it.

“Oh. Well, it’s definitely an interesting change, hehe.” she smiled at him before turning to walk towards a map of the festival grounds a few yards away. Izuku followed closely behind, and as they passed a food truck he stopped at one of the windows to fluff his hair back in its usual curly state.

They eventually decided to tackle the rides first, then loop around until they reached the main stage, where the hero agencies would be holding their seminars. It seemed the most sensible plan because it allowed them to grab a bite to eat without worrying about puking it all up on a rollercoaster. First, they hopped on some teacups as a starter, then a wood coaster that felt a little too old to still be in use and which threatened to crack under its own weight at any second, then a spinning vortex ride where the riders stuck to the walls, which Izuku claimed was his favorite so far, but gave Ochako the same nauseous feeling she got when overusing her gravity quirk.

They decided that they needed a break from all of the adrenaline, (and agreed that if Uraraka were to ride anything else in the next ten minutes, she would puke) so they decided to head towards the main stage where the hero seminars were taking place. When they stopped to scan the bleachers for an available seat, an excited, manly voice called out to them.

“Yo! Midoriya!”

They two whipped their heads around to see Kirishima running up to them with a toothy smile; his face was lit up both with excitement and the six glow stick hanging off of his neck.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were gonna come today! Gee, you must have had a lucky streak all day today, huh?” said Uraraka, motioning towards the bundle of stuffed and blown up prizes clutched in Kirishima’s arms.

“You bet! Check this out, this one’s my favorite.” He revealed a small plush Sumo wrestler.

“Oh, it’s Bakugo!”

Silent, blonde, and obviously grumpy, Bakugo strutted his way over to Kirishima with his eyes fixed to the floor.

“It took a lot of convincing, but I got him to tag along last minute,” Kirishima threw an arm around his friend’s shoulder.

“Get your hands off me, broom head!” Bakugo barked.

“Oh shut up and eat your taimaki,”

The boys waved them off (well, Kirishima did, Bakugo completely ignored them) and went to go sit down. Ochako discovered that another one of their classmates, Tsuyu Asui, was sitting by herself near the middle. After determining that the seats on either side of her weren’t taken, Izuku and Ochako went and sat with her. Not long after, the seminar started. It was set up as a sort of panel with a few heroes from different agencies sitting at a table to take questions from the crowd. Of course, Izuku was one of the most engaging audience members, raising his hand every other minute or so and piling notes upon notes into a notebook that he carried along with him. At some point during the seminar, Ochako’s attention drifted from the heroes on the stage and she became fixated on her friend. The way that his hand shot up in the air when another question popped into his mind was incredibly amusing. His beaming, goofy smile and the spark in his eyes sent a flutter in her chest. There was something magical about it, the way he broke free from his shell and let his inner confidence shine through every time he got the chance to talk about heroes. It was strangely intimate, almost like she was peeking at him through a window during a moment of privacy. It felt dangerous. And yet at the same time, she saw herself in the room with him. Absorbing every word he said with genuine excitement and attention. And then, maybe, his hand would fall onto her lap. And as he spoke, his mop of forest green hair invited her, dared her, even, to run her fingers through it.

Then all of a sudden he was facing her. Ochako quickly swung her head away from his direction and focused her eyes to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him look her up and down for a brief second before turning his attention back to the stage. Her face burned horribly. Although it was just a quick glance, just the thought of him possibly catching her staring at him was enough to make her flustered beyond belief.

“Erm, Tsu, could you come with me to the bathroom?”

Once the girls left the crowd and turned the corner around a food truck, Ochako let out a sharp exhale out of exasperation. She threw her face into her hands.

“Gah, I feel like throwing up,”

“Then go to the bathroom.”

“What? No, no I don’t actually need to use the bathroom,”

Tsuyu turned her head inquisitively.

“One moment I feel fine, and the next I can’t think straight. And I try so hard to not do that, but every single time it just…comes out of nowhere!”

Tsuyu brought her finger up to her chin and tapped it a few times as she formulated her words in her head, then turned back to Ochako.

“Well, if you bury everything inside you’re just bound to explode,” she said in her usual matter-of-fact tone. Tsuyu always spoke with a laidback, thoughtful presence, and everything she said always seemed well thought out and reasonable. This quality of hers garnered her much respect from her friends and came in handy when she found herself in precarious situations.

Her words seemed to rattle something within Ochako, and suddenly there was a glimmer of recognition behind her eyes. She jolted upright and took on an expression of a mix of shock and embarrassment. She met Tsuyu’s eyes with a pleading expression as if asking if she knew, to which Tsuyu returned a confirming look. Ochako’s cheeks colored.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“If you’re comfortable, just talk to him. It’s better, to be honest than to keep anything a secret, especially if it involves your close friends, ribbit!” said Tsuyu, “Besides, the worst thing that could happen is that he doesn’t feel the same way. And if that’s the case, at least you’ll be able to move on,”

Ochako’s face contorted as she processed Tsuyu’s advice. Pushing down her feelings certainly didn’t work, and as time went on it became harder and harder to maintain her emotions for Izuku. Her friend was definitely right in what she should do. But it’s not that easy! How would she even begin to explain such a thing to him? Especially after all the time they had known each other; her feelings have only grown stronger day by day. She had been burying them inside and piling them up for months on end. And with this combination of burying and piling, they mixed and twisted into something incredibly foreign to her, something so much deeper than just a schoolgirl crush. What if she found herself at a loss for words trying to express herself? Or worse, overwhelming him with her feelings?

The panel had ended while the girls were still “in the bathroom,” and as the crowd dispersed, they made their way back to find Izuku. The three chatted about the seminar for a few minutes, and then Tsuyu parted ways to head home early. Checking the seminar off their list of things to do, Ochako and Izuku went back to strolling around and amusing themselves with the diverse array of activities that surrounded them.

After a while, they passed by the giant Ferris wheel, which towered over everything else in the park, save for the giant spinning swings. Ochako immediately lit up at the sight of it, encapsulated by the bright, rainbow lights decorating the spokes, which flashed in crazy patterns in sync with the music being played by some speakers attached to the base.

“Ooh! Let’s go there!” she said, grabbing Izuku’s arm and dashing towards the line.

After they had gotten on the ride, Ochako leaned forward a bit to lean against the protective bar, pulled the cuffs of her coat up to cover her cold hands and gave them a blow of warm air from her lips before resting her face on them. Izuku watched her do this with odd fixed attention. Her puckered lips were still as cherry red as before. For some reason, he felt the urge to start a conversation with her, but as his mouth moved to form words, he realized he didn’t have anything interesting to say. So, he bumbled a bit and spat out something along the lines of

“s’cold, isn’t it?”

Ochako turned towards him and the expression on her face told him that she didn’t catch what he had said. He colored.

“...Ya know, I know that this was kind of an assignment for class, but I’m really glad you came with me today,” she said.

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah, really. It’s funny, I wasn’t expecting you to actually come. Well, actually I was, but I wasn’t at the same time. Yeah I know it’s confusing, gah!”

Ochako turned away and hid her face behind her hand in a motion that made their seat swing a little bit. Startled, the two quickly grabbed onto the seat in an effort to stabilize it. In doing so, their hands touched each other accidentally as they clasped the protective bar. Ochako quickly snatched her hand away, then did a double-take at him.

“Woah, your hands are so warm!” She said, clasping his right hand in between both of hers, like a hand sandwich.

“Are they?”

Izuku pretended to be unaware, but he knew that the cause of it was because he had been in a nervous sweat the entire evening. It was actually a relief to feel her cold touch against his burning palm, at least it was for a few seconds. Because he felt them get clammy as he noticed how long she had been clasping it. Finally, she let it go.

“I wonder. Do you think Todoroki has warm hands or cold hands? Or both?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Then he went on to contribute to the thought, only to be interrupted by a sudden commotion from below. There was the sound of a gross, manly screech that echoed from some unknown origin. Startled, the two looked around themselves, then on the ground below, and couldn’t find a thing. There was a beat of silence. Then they looked at each other, and then they both broke out into laughter. For some odd reason, the strange noise provided the catalyst for a release they both desperately needed. And they laughed hard, until the point where their sides hurt. Ochako had a hand on his shoulder and was grabbing it to keep herself from falling out of the seat. Their cheeks went sore from smiling for so long and for a moment it seemed like they had forgotten what had even caused them to laugh in the first place, but they didn’t care.

Izuku wiped a tear from his eye, then looked ahead and beamed as he realized that they had finally reached the top. Ochako followed his gaze. Since they had arrived, the time had droned on in the background, and at that moment they just realized that the sun had finally set and it was dark outside. So, the lights and lanterns that shone wild colors were even brighter than before. It was mesmerizing. A draft of cold wind snuck up on them and licked at the back of Ochako’s neck. She shivered harshly and pulled her slightly undersized coat tighter around her. Noticing that it hadn’t really given her much relief, Izuku asked her again if she were cold. This time having understood him, she nodded with a grimace. He then, with a quick moment of hesitation, scooted closer to her and tried to reach and put his arm around her.

KaBOOM!!!

Before he could touch her, the ride trembled in the shockwave caused by a sudden explosion. Their seat swung violently and they were thrown into each other. Screams of terror emerged from other riders and Izuku himself. He looked about and saw a commotion a couple of yards ahead. Twenty yards across was the stage where the hero seminar was held, although now it was set up for some magic show and there was a gust of smoke on stage from which a figure in a maroon cloak and an animal mask emerged.

“Oh ho ho! I admit, even I jumped a little with that one,” the cloaked figure’s voice boomed through a microphone.

Izuku’s mouth hung open in disbelief and he clutched his heart. Ochako was holding her mouth shut in an effort to contain her laughter. She turned and cupped his cheeks with her hands, making sure to keep both pinkies off of his skin in case her anti-gravity quirk activated.

“You’re such a dummy,” she said.

His mouth curled into a crooked shape and he shrunk down. His nervous sweats came back full force as his cheeks turned into red blotches.

The ride was over and once they hopped off they decided that it was time to leave. On the way out, Izuku bought Uraraka a snack from one of the food trucks as a treat and a thank you for inviting him along. Then they boarded the bus and rode it all the way to Uraraka’s street. They hopped off and walked until they found her apartment complex.

When they reached her door, she turned towards him. She let her hand fall upon the side of his bicep and she gave it a friendly squeeze.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” she said.

Then her hand traveled down until their fingers met. In an impulse she took the opportunity to fully grab onto his hand, first cupping it, then intertwining her fingers in between his. His hands were warm. She smiled.

“Goodnight,”

She kissed his cheek, squishing her lips against his cool skin for what felt like the blink of an eye.

A jolt went through Izuku’s body and once she pulled away he immediately reached up to touch the spot her lips touched. Blood rushed into his face as the sensation lingered.

The slight stickiness confirmed that she was, in fact, wearing cherry red lipgloss.

He opened his mouth to say something but she had slipped into her apartment and closed the door before he could.

For a moment he stood there alone with only the sound of the wind blowing by. His heart fluttered inside of his chest. And he forgot to breathe for a few drawn out seconds. He eventually broke out of his shocked stiffness with a very slight, almost unnoticeable smile. A light chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head as he quickly walked off in a stupor.

((Hope you guys liked it!! This is my second BNHA fic and I really liked how it turned out. This may have a part two, idk yet. Hope you enjoy!!))

[ineffably-good]

I Will Follow You Into the Dark (1/10) (Good Omens Fic)

Read the whole thing on AO3! Completed today. :)

Winter gradually blew over and little peeks of tepid sunlight began to break through the solid London gloom of the grayer months, and as the city began to come back to life, so did Crowley and Frederick. They had become more and more reclusive and incommunicative as the snow and the cold deepened, often sleeping for weeks at a time. Aziraphale was relieved to find them spending less time curled up fast asleep in front of the fire grate – charming as it was to see them together, it got a little dull when one’s companions were constantly unconscious.

Did snakes usually hibernate? He wondered. He hadn’t thought so, but these two could change anyone’s mind on that.

And then one day, at the end of February, he came into the back room and was surprised to find them both sitting up on the couch, looking alert and happy.

“Morning, Aziraphale!” Crowley said, and Frederick even deigned to lift his head up in greeting. “Now that was a good nap! What day is it anyways?”

The angel smiled. “It’s exactly two weeks since the last time you asked me, dear,” he said. He didn’t truly mind; he got a lot of reading done in the winter.

Crowley stretched and got up. “Freddy’s hungry, by the way,” he said, handing the snake to Aziraphale as he went off to have a shower and a change of clothes.

“Are you hungry, little friend?” Aziraphale said, lifting the snake to eye level and examining him.

YES YES YES I’M PRACTICALLY WASTING AWAY HERE, CAN’T YOU TELL? Frederick shrieked. He also thought for a moment and then tried the trick Crowley had been trying to teach him where you move your head up and down in a vertical fashion to indicate your agreement with something.

“Oh!” Aziraphale cooed, delighted. “Look at you, communicating! Was that on purpose, you clever snake?”

ANGELS ARE SO DUMB, Frederick thought in disgust, but he patiently repeated the gesture a few more times, looking the angel dead in the eye.

“Well then,” Aziraphale said, quite pleased. “Let’s get you some dinner.”

They went off to the kitchen, where the angel first poured him a platter of tea (the snake had become especially fond of oolong), and then thawed him a mousicle in the microwave. He placed Frederick in a basket on the tabletop and let him set about a long, slow swallow of his treat.

++

Crowley arrived a little later, hair freshly washed and a new black shirt half-unbuttoned down his chest. The angel took one look at his disheveled state and swallowed hard.

“Do you know what I was thinking in the shower, angel?” the demon said.

“Wha-huh?” Aziraphale murmured, distracted.

“Ahem,” Crowley said, mock stern. “My eyes are up HERE, angel.”

Aziraphale blushed and pulled his gaze up to Crowley’s face. “Well you’re the one walking around half undressed.”

“Anyhoo,” Crowley continued, “I was thinking that perhaps it’s time for us to get around to actually getting married.” 

That got the angel’s attention. It was true, they’d been engaged now for ages and hadn’t really done much to move the process along. It was hard, as immortal beings, to feel like schedules and timelines were anything particularly urgent, but he had to admit he loved the idea of actually having the wedding and making this official.

“Angel?” Crowley butted in. “Input? Don’t tell me you’re having second –”

“No!” Aziraphale cut in. “Of course not! I was just thinking that that sounds delightful! Let’s get started. Did you have a date in mind?”

“I do, actually,” Crowley said. “It’s kind of an unusual reason, but I thought it might be a nice symbol.”

“Well? What is it?”

Crowley explained it, and Aziraphale had to admit, it was perfect.

++

Crowley, amusingly, was turning out to be quite the dynamo of wedding planning.

“I’ve been reading up,” Crowley said that afternoon, “and according to the major web sites, the first thing we need to do is decide on our wedding’s style.”

“Style?” Aziraphale said. “You mean like a theme?”

“No, like a mood.” He pulled up his phone and flipped through a few pages. “Like are we boho? NO.” He swiped again. “Modern? Not really.” Swipe. “Victorian? Well you are, that’s for sure.” Swipe. “Don’t they have anything in here for ‘ancient ethereal entities’?”

“Why do we have to have a mood, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“Because it’s a wedding,” Crowley said imperiously, “and that’s what we do. C’mon angel, August 13th isn’t all that far away.”

“It’s six months.”

“Six months is NOTHING!” Crowley shrieked. “We have to get busy.”

Oh dear, Aziraphale thought. This could be interesting.

“You know what we need?” Crowley said suddenly. “Magazines. Come on, angel, get your coat, we’re going out.”

Aziraphale, fearing slightly for his life if he resisted, complied.

++

Twenty minutes later they were lounged in the magazine section of a chain bookstore, a thought which made Aziraphale shudder, looking through wedding magazines. Aziraphale stood primly, hands behind his back, squinting at the various titles and article teasers, while Crowley sprawled on the floor like a delinquent teen with at least thirty five magazines piled on his lap.

“This one stays here,” he said with disgust, tossing one magazine sloppily to his left. “This one looks promising,” he said, putting another one more carefully on his right.

Aziraphale tutted and picked up the rejected periodical, smoothing out its wrinkled pages with a little celestial energy and carefully placing it back on the shelf in pristine condition. “My dear, you’re going to have to buy them all if you keep this up.”

“Trash!” Crowley sputtered, tossing another one heedlessly to his left. It landed in a crumpled heap.

The angel sighed and picked it up.

He wandered a little further down the aisle and found an interesting section Crowley had missed.

“Dear,” he called, “look at this! There are some wedding magazines down here that have two men on the cover instead of just wedding gowns. And even one with two women! ‘Gay Weddings’ this one is called. Sounds like one we should have, correct?”

Crowley looked up, still serious. “Absolutely,” he said. “Take one of each and put them on the ‘take these home’ pile.”

In the end, they went to the checkout till with seventeen magazines and a thick stack of chocolate bars the angel picked up while they were waiting in line.

“Well we’re going to need reinforcements to read through all of these,” he said when the demon raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You’re right,” the demon said. “Let’s get some takeaway on the way home too. This could be a long evening.”

Aziraphale headed outside the shop to wait while Crowley paid up, amusing himself by scanning the books inside the front window display and deciding how many of them were dreck and how many were actually worth reading. He had reached a grand total of 75% dreck when he suddenly felt a strange chill break over him. He shuddered and looked around, but saw nothing amiss.

Crowley chose that exact moment to emerge from the store, to find the angel turning in a circle glancing around the street. “Everything okay there, angel?”

“Oh, yes dear, I’m fine,” the angel said, shaking the feeling off. He pulled his coat tighter around himself. “Just one of those cold breezes that you get this time of year. The sun can be so deceptive, after all.”

He took the hand the demon held out to him and they set off for the Indian restaurant, and then home.

++

“We need a location,” Crowley said later, from his position, flopped on the Persian rug in what for anyone else would be a back-breaking and excruciating position but for him was just regular daily posture, surrounded by magazines opened to various spreads with post it notes sprinkled all over them. He appeared to be reading at least four articles at once and was barking comments at Aziraphale about things to write down.

The angel, being eternally patient, sat on the couch with his little black notebook and a fountain pen, neatly writing out all of Crowley’s important points in his tidy copperplate handwriting. LOCATION, he wrote. IMPORTANT.

“Any ideas?” he asked. Somehow, the angel could tell that he was not going to be the major decision maker about most of the wedding details, which was absolutely fine with him. He could marry the demon on the street corner, in a cardboard box, in a restaurant bathroom, and he’d be happy.

Well possibly not a restaurant bathroom.

Crowley rolled onto his back, head on a magazine, and thought a bit. “Not a church, for sure,” he said, “although I do like the idea of that as a way to stick it to the heavenly host, but the burns wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Mmm hmm,” the angel murmured, writing down CHURCH and then crossing it out. It paid to be thorough. “I agree, dearest.”

“Outdoors might be nice. Possibly a hotel.”

“We could do it here,” Aziraphale said, consideringly.

Crowley looked around. “Nah, too dusty here,” he said. “I want to do this right.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Aziraphale said, writing down and crossing out BOOKSTORE. He thought for a few minutes. “I have a few ideas, actually.”

Crowley rolled onto his side and gave Aziraphale his full attention. “Spill it, love.”

“Well, I believe the British Museum can be rented out…”

Crowley whistled appreciatively. “Married surrounded by the mis-labeled plunder of imperial exploits? I like it!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Let’s call that a no, then. Perhaps one of the libraries? I hear One Whitehall Place is lovely.”

“That’s possible. We should go look at it.”

“And there’s always Kew Gardens…”

Crowley actually leapt to his feet. “That’s perfect!” he shouted. He grinned at Aziraphale. “Let’s go look at it right now.”

“Crowley, dear, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

“And?”

Aziraphale stood up and brushed his hands off on his pants, noting that it was clearly time to put an end to this bout of mania.  “Now listen, my dear,” he said, moving close to his partner. “I love your wild enthusiasm for planning this wedding, but I must insist that we get some rest. We don’t have to plan the entire wedding on the very first day, do we?”

Crowley frowned a little. “Well no one says we couldn’t.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon and nuzzled him. “I know,” he said, “but I thought perhaps we could talk a bit about the wedding night, if you know what I mean.”

The demon took a minute to process that idea, but when he comprehended it his eyes lit up and he admitted defeat. “Fine,” he said happily. “But we’re getting back to this tomorrow, you realize.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Oh I can’t imagine we are going to be accomplishing anything else anytime soon, my dear.” He gave Crowley’s hand a tug. “Now come with me.”

The demon allowed himself to be led upstairs.

In his cage, Frederick rolled his eyes. These two were incomprehensible. They came home and scattered colored papers all over the rug in a way that created the perfect warm, messy snake nest, then they abandon it to go sleep in a cold bed on the top floor? He would never understand these two.

[coriesocks]

The mystery of the missing knitwear

Here’s a little thing I wrote for @scorbusdefensesquad‘s scorbus drabble challenge. 

Thank you to @littlerose13writes for the beta!

Prompt: Stolen Weasley Jumper

Author: Ruarcher (me!) Wordcount: ~3k Rated: Teen Content: Fluff, light angst, getting together Read on Ao3 HERE

Albus watched from a safe distance as Scorpius tossed every item of clothing out of his wardrobe and then methodically picked each thing up again, shaking it out, then fitting it carefully over a hanger before slotting it back in place. It was the second time he'd been through this process, so they both knew what he was looking for wasn't there, but Scorpius was nothing if not thorough.

"I can't find it, I can't find it!" Scorpius muttered, a frantic edge to his voice.

Albus sighed and pushed up from the bed. "Don't stress about it, Scorp. It's not a big deal," he said in what was hopefully a nice, reassuring tone.

Although clearly not reassuring enough.

"Not a big deal!?” Scorpius shrieked. “Albus! I need it! Whatever will she think of me if I turn up without it?"

"Honestly? She'll probably not even notice. I won't be wearing mine."

"Yes, but you're family--you get a free pass! And anyway, she sees you all the time. This is only my second time visiting and if I don't turn up wearing the gift she lovingly handmade especially for me, then she'll think I've rejected it! And thus, rejected her!"

"I really don't think--"

Scorpius turned to his chest of drawers, frantically emptying each one out onto his bed and then folding and putting items back one at a time. Albus swallowed thickly and looked away. He knew Scorpius wouldn't find what he was looking for no matter how hard he searched. And the reason he knew this was because the knitwear in question--Scorpius’ apparently beloved Weasley jumper--was currently stuffed in the bottom of his trunk.

He hadn't meant to keep hold of it; he'd just sort of … borrowed it over Easter because Scorp was going away with his dad and wouldn’t be around, and Albus had just wanted something Scorpius-y with him at home so he wouldn’t feel too lonely… But then James had found it under Albus’ pillow and threatened to tell everyone, and in the resultant struggle, one sleeve had ripped clean off. He’d planned to fix it and return it, but he hadn’t been able to master the darning charm he’d found in the dusty copy of Handy Homekeeping Spells for the House-Proud Witch his dad had, and he couldn’t ask anyone else for help without raising questions about why he’d smuggled Scorpius’ jumper home in the first place.

So, he’d returned to school with the ripped jumper, and every intention of learning the charm so he could fix it, but Scorpius was always around so he hadn’t yet got the chance. He honestly thought he’d have more time to return it. How was he supposed to know his gran would randomly invite Scorpius for dinner over half term. And anyway, it was practically Summer--who wore a thick, knitted jumper in the summer?

"Why don't you just tell her it's in the wash or something?" Albus offered after Scorpius threw himself down on the bed with a mournful wail.

"I can't do that! It would be dishonest! If she found out I lied, it would be worse than the snub of not wearing it at all. I've looked everywhere. There's only one other explanation-- it's been stolen!"

Oh, bloody fuck. Albus cringed. He knew that tone of voice. Nothing good ever happened when Scorpius used that tone of voice. But there was still a small chance he could distract Scorpius before things went too far. "It has to be somewhere…" he tried feebly.

"Where, though? I've looked everywhere! There's a thief amongst us, Albus. I'm sure of it. Jumpers don't just get up and relocate themselves. Well, unless they've been charmed, but that would be a whole other crime entirely, and if someone has been charming my clothes to wander off around the castle, then McGonagall will be receiving a strongly worded letter from my father!"

"Scorp, please. Gran really won’t care if you don’t wear it. Maybe someone accidentally tidied it away somewhere?” He shrugged and picked up an old quill from his desk, dragging it through his fingers and smoothing down the barbs that had separated. “It’ll turn up later, I’m sure.” If you ever give me five minutes alone to learn the right charm, he tacked on silently.

Scorpius huffed and plucked the quill from Albus’ hand, setting it neatly back down on the desk. "I’ve never once seen anyone in our dorm tidy away anything, and the House Elves have never once mixed up any of our laundry in the six years we’ve been here, so it’s obvious someone has swiped it, and I’ll not rest until it’s found.” He smacked his hand on the desk. “It’s a matter of pride, Albus! Come on,” he urged, grabbing Albus by the wrist, “our roommates will still be in the common room. We can ask them if they've stolen it."

Merlin’s saggy tits. “‘Cause that’s gonna go down so well,” Albus muttered under his breath.

He continued to protest as Scorpius manhandled him out of their room, but his heart wasn’t fully in it. He was torn (much like the ‘missing’ jumper lying scrunched up at the bottom of his trunk) because he wanted to stop Scorpius from humiliating himself and potentially souring the already strained relationship they had with their roommates, but at the same time, he couldn’t put up too much of a fight without looking guilty.

The common room appeared to fall silent as they walked over to where their roommates were sat. Albus felt like everyone’s eyes were on them; the assumed scrutiny like a swarm of spiders crawling up and down his spine. Jacob, Malcolm, and Rafe stopped their conversation and watched them expectantly but Albus couldn’t meet their gaze; instead, he stared at the corner of the small, ornate side table and prayed for a swift end to his suffering.

Guilt churned in his gut. He wished he could think of a way out that didn’t end in embarrassment or… or death, because surely he would die if Scorpius found out he fell asleep hugging his jumper. But even if he did manage to fix the jumper, it was too late to slip it into Scorpius' possessions now. He'd missed his chance. He supposed he could stuff it under one of their roommates' beds, maybe Malcolm's since he's a bit of a dick, but framing someone else for theft and destruction of property was probably a shitty thing to do.

He squirmed as Scorpius explained the jumper situation and then quizzed their roommates about its whereabouts, their whereabouts, their movements since Christmas… and a multitude of other things that were important for reasons only Scorpius knew. He didn’t call them thieves outright, but it was clearly implied by his tone and careful phrasing. To Albus’ great relief, though, they suffered the interrogation without complaint and then returned to the conversation they’d been in the midst of before being interrupted.

Clearly, six years of sharing a room with him and Scorpius had made them immune to some of their… eccentricities.

“Do you know, I don’t think they were taking me seriously,” Scorpius mused, tapping a finger against his lip.

Albus rolled his eyes. "So, you’re done now, yeah?” He took a couple of steps towards the entrance to the boys’ dorms but faltered when Scorpius didn’t follow. “Scorp? We've got a stack of manga to read and you said you wanted to practice that translation charm.”

"Just a minute Al, I need to get to the bottom of this. If our roommates had nothing to do with it, then maybe it was someone else in our house."

"You're not really going to ask everyone in Slytherin if they've seen your jumper, are you?" Would this nightmare ever be over? Why did Scorpius have to obsess over everything?

"Not individually, no."

"What does-- Oh, bloody hell." Albus paled as Scorpius climbed on top of one of the tables at the edge of the common room. A couple of younger students who'd been trying to work tutted and hastily moved their parchment and ink pots out of harm’s way. “Scorpius!” he hissed through gritted teeth, stepping up to the table and tugging on Scorpius’ robe to get his attention. “Get down! People are staring.”

“Let them stare, Albus,” Scorpius said. “Let them stare!” He managed to project his voice enough that the few people who weren’t yet staring at the weird kid on the table, now turned their heads to see what the fuss was about.

Albus thought his face would melt clean off his skull with how hot it felt. He’d be known as Albus the Faceless and his ghost would haunt the Slytherin dungeons forever more, a constant reminder to students of the ultimate price someone had paid for utter mortification.

“Fellow students,” Scorpius proclaimed, and if anyone had been unclear about his pure-blood heritage, there’d be no doubt now. The way he held himself spoke of years of elocution lessons; public speaking a fact of life and a skill to be honed, rather than something to be avoided at all costs. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I have to inform you that there has been a theft!” He paused, scanning the room, and Albus wanted nothing more than to drop to the floor and crawl back to his dorm, or into the corridor, or literally anywhere else. He’d willingly have opened one of the dungeon windows to escape into the lake at that point. Merlin. Why did Scorpius have to be so… so extra? Why couldn’t he just accept that he’d misplaced the jumper, and then move on with his life, allowing Albus the opportunity to fix it and sneak it back into his wardrobe once an appropriate amount of time had passed?

But…

But he couldn’t let Scorpius embarrass himself in front of their entire house. They’d not been the social pariahs they once were for a while now--not since before the…the debacle in fourth year, but they were still only just clinging to acceptance by the very tips of their fingers. He couldn’t let Scorpius make a laughing stock of himself when people were finally starting to respect him and see him as the brilliant, kind, funny, and amazing person he was.

He was the best person Albus knew--his favourite person in the entire world--he had to stop this.

“Scorpius!” he hissed, more urgently this time. “Scorpius!”

Scorpius crouched down but didn’t get off the table. “What?”

He swallowed. It was now or never. He was the only person who could save Scorpius from social suicide. “Just get down here,” he urged through clenched teeth. “I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No!”

“Well, just give me five minutes. I have to--”

“I took your jumper!” Albus shouted, slapping a hand over his mouth as soon as the words left his lips.

Scorpius slowly clambered off the table without taking his eyes from Albus. “...what?”

Albus looked around at the room. There were still a few curious eyes turned in their direction, but most people had seemingly already lost interest in Scorpius’ little scene. Albus knew they’d be paying full attention the second anything gossip-worthy happened though, and he didn't intend to give them anything extra to look at.

“Can we go upstairs? Please?” he urged, pitching his voice low to avoid unwanted eavesdroppers.

Scorpius looked at him consideringly for a few moments and Albus could tell he was weighing up the likelihood of getting a confession out of Albus once they were alone. They were both aware of how much he liked to deflect and avoid when conversations were tricky. Eventually, though, he huffed out a breath through his nose and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, and wrapped his slender fingers around Albus’ wrist, dragging him down the corridor to their room.

* * *

Scorpius didn't even give Albus the chance to close the door before rounding on him. “Why did you take it?”

Albus ducked his head to avoid Scorpius’ eyes. He didn’t want to see the horror, the disgust, reflected back at him when he admitted the truth. Would Scorpius ever talk to him again?

"Albus,” Scorpius prompted, his voice softer now. “Why won't you talk to me? What's going on? You watched me pull all my clothes from the wardrobe! You let me accuse our roommates of thievery!" His face blanched. "Albus.. I… I'm going to be a laughing stock!"

"I'm sorry, Scorp, really I am. I… I…” The words caught in his throat. Was there any good way to say ‘I stole your jumper so I could smell you while you were gone because you’re my whole world but I’m not ready to admit it yet’?

"Please, just tell me. Did I do something to upset you?"

"No! Gods, no." Albus took a breath, dragged a sweaty hand through his hair. There was no more putting it off. He could feel Scorpius' eyes boring into the top of his head but he couldn't lift his own to meet his gaze. He didn't want to see the moment Scorpius lost respect for him. “I took your jumper because I wanted something of yours to keep with me over Easter break.”

“Something of mine to keep? Why?”

“BecauseIlikeyouandIwantedsomethingthatsmelledlikeyou.”

“Because…” Scorpius’ eyes narrowed and flicked to the side while he deciphered Albus’ mumbled confession. But then his eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Albus sat down heavily on his bed and pressed his face into his palms. Any second now, Scorpius would stutter out an apology, an explanation as to why he thought they should no longer be friends, and Albus would do his best to hide his feelings as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

But there was nothing. Nothing but the everpresent gurgle of water, the muffled conversations of other students in the common room, the soft scuff scuff of Scorpius’ slippers on the flagstones.

Then the bed dipped beside him and he looked around to see Scorpius sitting only centimetres away, studying him, a tremulous smile on his lips.

Albus’ heart leapt into his throat. It certainly didn’t look like a rejection was coming, but he’d been wrong about this sort of thing before...

“I like you too, Albus,” Scorpius said, reaching out and taking hold of one of Albus’ hands.

He choked back a gasp. “Really?”

“Really.”

Scorpius reached out haltingly with his other hand, eyes brimming with uncertainty as they skated over Albus’ face. No doubt he was waiting for a flinch or a cry of horror, but Albus was frozen in place. Scorpius cupped his cheek with a damp, trembling palm. It should feel gross, but Albus leant into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. A soft breath danced across his lips, and that was all the warning he got before Scorpius’ lips met his with the gentlest of pressure, no more than a mere brushing of skin against skin, but enough to set off fireworks inside Albus. He chased the kiss, desperate for more, and groaned as Scorpius met him again with equal ferocity. There was no hesitation any more.

* * *

“You know, if you wanted to borrow one of my jumpers to cuddle at night, you only had to ask,” Scorpius said, briefly tightening the arm that was currently wrapped around Albus’ chest.

“Yeah, well, it seems obvious now,” Albus replied, rolling his eyes. He could feel a blush staining his cheeks a deep red again, although it was such a constant state recently, he wasn’t sure his face would ever return to its normal colour.

“So… where is it, anyway?” Scorpius asked. “I’d still like to wear it to your gran’s--especially if we’re going as… boyfriends?” he added hopefully. He raised his head slightly from Albus’ shoulder, looking coyly up at him though blond lashes while toying with the corner of the blanket.

“Ah. Well… please don’t get mad but…” Albus reluctantly untangled himself from Scorpius and slid off the bed. He was fully aware of Scorpius’ gaze tracking his every movement as he rummaged in his trunk until he uncovered the cause of his shame and then tossed it unceremoniously at Scorpius’ head.

“It’s…” Scorpius held up the two raggedy pieces of the jumper and looked between them and Albus in growing confusion. “Oh my gosh, what happened?”

Albus sighed and sat on the bed with his back to his boyfriend. “James found it under my pillow and was going to tell Dad and Lil and everyone, so I had to get it off him, you know? But when I tried to grab it from him, it kind of… pulled apart. I… I wanted to fix it before I returned it, but I can’t make the stupid darning charm work.”

“Oh.” Scorpius dropped the jumper into his lap and frowned. “Nevermind,” he said, his expression clearing and a broad smile spreading across his face. “I’ll just have to wear one of yours.”

“Yeah?” The word came out barely louder than a whisper. The idea alone of Scorpius in his clothes sent bright sparks of lust dancing down his spine.

“Yes, it’ll be rather fitting, don’t you think. It might save us from making any sappy announcements. Let people make their own assumptions.”

Albus snorted out a laugh and launched himself at Scorpius, pinning him to the bed. “You’re brilliant, you know that, right?” He closed the distance between them, claiming Scorpius' lips with an ardent kiss.

Lunch at his Gran’s was looking like it would be much more interesting than usual.

[aph-danish]

five coffees

written for day 5: coffee shop au of @neddenweek 2019. “Mathias has a different coffee each time he and barista Laurens meet.” word count: 1,688 rating: general netherlands’ name is taken from @askaphnl if you would rather read on ao3, it can be found here

i. The first time Mathias enters the coffee shop is because he’s far more eager to get out of the gusty rain than looking for his next caffeine hit. He shakes himself off like a dog as the bell over the door chimes his arrival, and he can’t help the shudder that passes through his body at the sudden heat that embraces him; a stark change to the coldness of the depressing weather outside. Now that he’s in the shop, he figures he might as well see if they have a decent brew, azure eyes scanning over the neatly handwritten menu board that hangs above the heads of the few staff behind the counter.

“Welcome,” a low voice says as he steps a little closer to make his order, earning a blink of surprise before his gaze drops to the man who had greeted him. Not that he has to lower his line of eyesight much - the barista is tall, is Mathias’ first assessment of him, followed by an acknowledgement that he’s really handsome.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Um. A cappuccino, please.”

A neat, scared eyebrow is quirked at him, and there is silence a moment before he asks, “What size?”

Mathias flushes darkly, before gesturing awkwardly to the middle-sized cup on the display for him. All of his smooth pick up lines and bright, flirtatious smiles seem to be eluding him in the presence of this man, leaving him a flustered mess, only just managing to stutter out his name when the barista asks for it. He somehow pays without further disaster before shuffling around to wait - out of the way - for his coffee to be made, unable to draw his eyes away from long-fingered, elegant hands easily working the machine.

“Mathias,” the barista calls soon enough, though he doesn’t really need to say his name when no one else has come into the quaint shop. Mathias is quick to step forward and take the cup, wrapping his hands eagerly around the warmth it provides.

“Thanks,” he says, finally noticing and reading the man’s name badge. “Laurens… Thanks, Laurens.” Finally, he manages to muster up one of his sunny smiles, allowing himself a brief few seconds to admire the ever so subtle rosiness his words bring to Laurens’ cheeks before he gives a short wave of departure and turns to head back outside into dismal weather.

ii. Mathias doesn’t return to the coffee shop for a couple of days, but he finally decides to take his chances and see if Laurens is working again. It feels foolish, even to him, to want to return to the shop because of a handsome man he’d lost his cool in front of instead of for the coffee, but those thoughts are swept aside when he sees Laurens behind the counter again. When green eyes meet his own, he smiles automatically but the happiness behind it is genuine.

“Hey,” he says as he steps up to the counter. “Mm… A caramel macchiato this time, please. Medium again.” His smile widens as he watches the barista write his name without asking what it is, flattered by the fact he’d clearly remembered it from the last time. He taps his card to pay for his drink before moving aside, watching once again as Laurens prepares his drink.

Their eyes meet as Mathias steps forward to take the cup when it’s ready, their fingers brushing for a fleeting second. “Rens,” the barista says. “You can call me Rens.”

Mathias blinks; Rens didn’t seem like the kind of person who often asked others to use a shortened form of his name, though it was hard to get much of a reading into his emotions with his resting bitch face. Did it mean there was a possibility of mutual interest, even if it was only as deep as thinking the other attractive? Pushing his thoughts aside for now, he smiles again. “Thanks, Rens,” he says. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” He bites his tongue from saying he’ll see him again soon, not wanting to sound too creepy, instead glancing back over his shoulder at the barista as he leaves the cafe to continue on with his own day.

iii. Mathias tells himself to not stand at the window of the cafe to try to see if Rens is working, but he still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed when none of the staff behind the counter are the tall Dutchman. He’s not just going to turn around and walk back out though, hands in his pockets as he looks over the menu board to decide what he’ll order this time around. The chime of the bells over the door have him glancing over his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when he’s met with the green gaze he’s seen a few times in his dreams.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, clearly talking to the other staff even though he maintains eye contact with Mathias. “My bicycle had a flat tyre.”

“It’s fine,” Mathias says breathlessly, without thought, before blushing in embarrassment when he realises he’d said that out loud.

“What can I get you today, Mathias?” Rens has moved around behind the counter, tying his apron behind his back. The girl who had been ready to serve Mathias opens and then closes her mouth, giving the Dane a smirk before she moves onto another task.

“A mocha, please. Medium again.” He takes a sachet of sugar to fiddle with as the barista works on his drink, humming happily when it’s handed over to him. “You make great coffee,” he comments once he’s stirred in the sweetener and taken a sip. “I don’t even like it the way I make it now.” Rens makes a sound that Mathias thinks is amusement, allowing himself a moment to admire then handsome barista until the bells chime with the entrance of another customer.

“Bye, Rens.” The slight wave of goodbye he gets in return makes his heart flutter like he’s a teenager with a crush. He supposes that isn’t far off the mark, except he’s twenty-four instead of fifteen. And then he groans with the realisation he just admitted to himself he has a crush on the man he only knows the name of.

iv. The fourth time Mathias steps into the coffee shop, he’s tired and in a bad mood. It’s not like his birthday had ever really meant much to him, but the fact that none of his family had even texted him to wish him a good day was rather disheartening. But even in his spiralling thoughts of the fact that his family didn’t like him enough to even wish him a happy birthday, seeing Rens made the corners of his mouth quirk up enough to bring out the dimples in his cheeks.

“Espresso, please,” he says when he reaches the counter, nodding when the barista's hand hovers over the middle-sized cup in question. After paying, he once again watches as his drink is prepared, humming slightly when Rens speaks.

“You know, you come in here often enough. It’s not something we really promote, but we do have a membership card. Every eighth drink free. And one on your birthday too.”

“Bit late for that one,” Mathias says with a laugh. “My birthday is today. But yeah, I’ll join. Even though I don’t really need more incentive to come in and see you.” Pink spreads over his cheeks when he realises what he’s said, but Rens doesn’t seem to mind if the amused smirk on his face is any indication.

“Well, happy birthday then,” the barista says. “Here. I’ll give you something else on the house. Some cake? They’re made fresh every morning.”

“Oh. That’d be nice. Thank you.” He moves around to the display the cakes are in, gesturing to the chocolate cake with a sheepish grin. Rens cuts him a sizeable piece and places it in a cardboard takeaway container, writing something inside the lid before he hands it over to Mathias.

“I just need your full name and email address for the membership too,” he says, moving back over to the register computer to type the information in before handing the Dane a card.

“Thanks,” Mathias says, tucking it into his pocket before gathering up his coffee and cake. “See you later.”

He forgets all about what the barista wrote on the inside of the cake container until he gets home and opens it up to eat. Happy Birthday, Mathias, it says, followed by a string of ten numbers. It takes Mathias a moment to realise that it’s a mobile number. More specifically Rens’.

v. It’s a week after Mathias had finally pulled together the courage to send Rens a text after being given the Dutchman’s mobile number when he next steps into the cafe. The barista is just finishing up his shift, giving Mathias a hint of a smile when he notices him enter and take a seat by the doorway. A few minutes later, he’s hanging his apron up and making his way over.

“Black tea latte with a hint of vanilla,” Rens says, holding out a cup to the Dane. “Seeing as you order something different each time you come in, I thought I’d make you something new.”

Mathias’ cheeks dust pink as he accepts the cup, pushing himself to his feet. Without the counter between them, he can finally gauge just how much taller Rens is than him. “Thank you,” he says, taking a sip and giving a sound of appreciation. “You make wonderful tea too. I hope I get to discover what else you’re good at.” Though he hadn’t meant to imply anything less than innocent with his words, Rens’ replying smirk has his imagination running off.

“At least let us have this first date, Mat,” the taller man says. The nickname makes Mathias grin over the rim of his takeaway cup, extending a hand in offering for the other to take.

“What are we waiting for then?” he asks. “We have to get the first date done so we can go out on a hundred more!”

[angellhardy]

off limits // pt. 4

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader 

Words: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, Roger being a dumb ass 

AN: I’m so happy so many of you are liking this story! It’s just something that I put out for myself and to see that it actually gained a small following makes me very happy! So thank you and enjoy! I didn’t really proof read oops

previous part / next part

When you woke up in the morning you aimlessly stretched your arms out, searching for Roger. When you didn't feel him beside you, your eyes shot open.

He wasn't there. Panic arose inside you, that he left you. Maybe he regretted it. You searched around the room for his stuff but instead found a little piece of paper, sitting neatly on your bedside table.

Taking it in your hands you recognize it has Rogers handwriting on it

Good morning love! Don't worry i didn't leave you alone like a one night stand! Brian called and wanted me in the studio and I didn't want to wake you so i wrote you this note. Can't wait to see you again. I enjoyed last night a lot, princess. - Roger

Instantly you let out a breath, you didn't know you were holding, your body relaxing again. Your eyes scanned over the note again and again, smiling at the thought of him writing it.  

You stood up and made yourself a coffee, before heading into the shower. The memories from last night were still prominent in your mind and you found yourself smiling at them. When you left the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes widened in shock. Your neck was covered in dark purple bruises. Not just your neck. It was all the way down to your breasts. „How am I supposed to cover these up?“ you muttered to yourself, while your fingers lightly traced them. Not wanting to think about that right now, you went to the kitchen to make some breakfast, when you heard the phone ring. Picking it up you instantly heard Brians happy voice. „(y/n)! You're finally awake! I started to worry, you never sleep this late.“ Brian said into the speaker. „Oh i just had a bad dream and couldn't sleep for a while, so I've slept a bit longer.“ you lied to him. „I hope it wasn't to bad.“ his voice was softer now, clearly filled with worry. „No Bri, it's alright. Why are you calling?“ you asked him, wanting to change the subject. „I want you to come to the studio. I need to tell you something.“ he told you, butterflies erupting in your stomach just thinking about how you will see Roger again. „Em okay, I'll be there in 30 minutes, okay?“ you said, walking in your bedroom to search some clothes. „Perfect! See you soon!“ he chirped before hanging up. You searched for anything that would cover your neck, but non of your shirts or jumper could make them disappear. So you went with a tight sweater and a scarf around your neck. You went into the bathroom to dry your hair and do your makeup. You covered some of the hickeys, that could be visible in case the scarf moved, just to be sure the guys wouldn't see it. When you were pleased with the outcome, you grabbed your car keys and made your way over to the studio, a smile always plastered on your face.

You arrived at the building and went to the room, the guys were in last time and could already hear John playing his bass and some talking. You entered the room and all eyes turned to you. „(y/n) you're finally here!“ Brian said before coming over to you and giving you a tight hug. You greeted everyone else with a little hug and when it was Rogers turn, he just had to make a comment. „Nice scarf.“ he smirked. He just couldn't keep it to himself. „Yeah (y/n) whats up with the scarf? It's not that could outside.“ Deaky said with a light frown. „Oh I just think I'm getting a cold...“ you said, hoping that they would believe you. „So what did you want to tell me?“ you quickly ask in Brians direction, as you sat down on the couch, next to Freddie. 

„Well I have good news and bad news! What you wanna hear first?“ he asked you with a grin. „Good.“ you told him, smiling at him. „We will be performing at top of the pops!“ he told you and a bright smile formed on every members face. „That's amazing, guys! I'm so happy for you!“ You really meant it. But when you found Rogers face, he didn't look as excited as the others and you frowned at him. „What's the bad news?“ you ask them and this time Freddie answers you. „The show is saturday. The band that was supposed to play had to cancel so we are taking their place. But that means we leave tonight.“ he told you with a unsure face. „But you weren't supposed to leave for another 3 days!“ you said in disbelieve, looking at Rogers direction, but he was looking at the ground. „Yeah we know, but this is really big for us and could really help the band.“ Brian said with a sympathetic look, hoping you would understand. „Yeah I get it, I really do.“ you told them shooting them a small smile. 

„I wanted to tell you yesterday but you were at work and then you met with your mum and I didn't want to ruin your time with your family.“ Brian said, his eyes always fixated on you. Puzzled, you frown your brows together. „You guys already knew yesterday?“ you asked. „Yeah we got a call from Miami in the morning.“ Freddie said beside you. So Roger knew and didn't tell you. „I'm really happy for you guys. This is a big opportunity and I don't want to be in the way of it.“ you said with a forced smile in Brians direction. „You're the best.“ he answered and you just hummed as response to that. You felt Rogers gaze on you but didn't want to look at him. 

„Why don't we eat diner together tonight? Like as a goodbye?“ Deaky asked in the round and you all nodded. After that they started playing their music again. Freddie went into the recording booth to sing his vocals, as Roger sat down beside you. He turned to you and opened his mouth to say something but you quickly cut him off. „Not right now Roger.“ you said, eyes not leaving Freddie. He didn't say another word to you for the rest of the recording session. When the guys were finished, you agreed where to meet up in the evening. Brian would come back to your place with you, to use the last few hours together. 

On the way out, Roger pulled you by your arm so you two walked with some distance behind the others. „Why didn't you tell me?“ you just muttered quietly. „I would've told you but I didn't want to ruin the mood for last night.“ You looked at him and you knew he was serious. And you understood why he did it. You really did. „Can I come to your place to talk after dinner?“ he asked you in a whisper. You nodded with your head as you watched the other boys carefully so they wouldn't notice it. Just a few seconds later Brian turned around and saw you two walking together behind them. „Roger, could you please stop hitting on (y/n).“ he said clearly annoyed with him. „I'll stop when she stops being this pretty!“ he replied with a smirk growing on his lips and a blush forming on your cheeks. Brian glared at Roger as he put his hands up in defense. He winked at you one last time, before your ways separated and he went to Johns car while you walked to your own. 

Brian followed you to your house and parked his car right behind you. You smiled at him as you went into your apartment. „I'm really sorry that we're not staying as long as planned.“ he said again, sadness in his eyes. „Oh don't be stupid Bri. This is such a big chance for you and the guys! I'm really proud of you.“ you assured him as you took his hand in yours. „You know I kinda feel stupid saying this, but I'm also a bit glad that we're leaving early. I had the feeling there was something forming between you and Roger and I was afraid he would make a move on you this trip.“ he said, voice low and looking to the ground as if he was ashamed to say it. You felt the weight of guilt on your shoulders and you wanted to tell him then and there but you restrained yourself. You should talk with Roger first, before you tell Brian about it. „No need, Bri. There is nothing going on between us. You’ll always be my favorite Queen member.“ You couldn't look him into the eyes as you lied to him, your gaze shifted to the ground. Brian took you in his arms, his chin on your head as he spoke „I know (y/n). I'm just paranoid. I just think it wouldn't end well and I can't see you hurt. You just mean to much to me.“ he whispered and you could feel tears starting to form, but quickly tried to blink them away. Wrapping your arms around him, you just hugged him tighter. „ But enough about Roger! Do you want a tea?“ he asked, once he separated himself from you. „That would be lovely.“ you told him as he already had 2 mugs in his hands.

You went to your closet to search for something else to wear, something more fancy but non of it covered your neck, so you just went with the outfit you already had on and intensified your makeup a bit.

Brian and you were the first to arrive at the restaurant and sat down at the table, already ordering your drinks. Then came John and Roger. And 10 minutes late came Freddie with Mary. You and Mary sat across from each other and talked the whole time, getting to know each other. She was really friendly and funny and told you a lot about her dad and about her job and how she and Freddie met. It was really nice listening to her. You actually made plans to see each other while the boys were away and exchanged numbers. „Hey this is a dinner because we're going back to america and you two don't even talk to us!“ John said with a playful pout on his lips. „Jealous Deaky?“ you smirked at him, seeing in the corner of eyes Roger tense up a bit.

It was a really beautiful evening and you just didn't want it to end. But it was getting late and the boys still had to pack, so the evening came to an end sooner than you hoped. The group walked out to the cars together and there it was time to say goodbye. You hugged everyone goodbye, even Roger, who whispered in your ear, that he'll be at your place in 30 minutes. You and Brian took the longest time to say goodbye. „I'll miss you little sister.“ he said, hugging you tight and running his hands through your hair. „I'll miss you two big brother. This time you could try not waiting 13 weeks to call me.“ you teased him but he knew you were actually serious. You waved at him as you walked to your car. “Have a safe flight!” you yelled at them one last time. And with that you all got into your cars and drove away. It felt strange. Knowing that you wouldn’t see them again for quite some time.  Your only silver lining right now was knowing that Roger would come to your place later although you were a bit nervous about it.

Roger knocked on your door a few minutes after you arrived and you happily smiled at him, when you opened the door. Only that he didn't look too happy. „Everything alright?“ you ask him, as he walked into your flat and stood in the living room with you. „I think we need to talk.“ he said, rubbing his neck. You knew right there, that this would be bad. „About what?“ you ask, already feeling where this is going.

„About us.“ he replied, not looking in your direction. „What about us?“ you question your eyebrows shooting up.

You could see him taking a deep breath. He was trying to find the right words to say but knew it would end bad no matter what he said.

„Look I really like you, I truly do... but I don't think right now is the right time for us.“ he started and you could actually feel a stabbing pain in your heart. „Last night was perfect and I meant everything I said to you but we are leaving tonight and tour doesn't end for another 3 months and we'll maybe stay even longer to record our new album over there and I don't think it's the right time to start a relationship right now.“ he said, finally looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. You were sad too, but most of all you were angry. „Get out.“ you muttered. „Princess, I..“ he started, but you wouldn't let him finish. „Don't fucking call me that! I said get out!“ you spat at him but he didn't move. „Can we please talk about this?“ he asked you, trying to stay calm. „No we cannot talk about this, because I never want to talk to you again! You said that this could be something! And that you actually missed me! Was this just a game to you? To see if I would actually sleep with you? You told me you felt more than just lust for me! And I actually believed you.“ you said shaking your head at your own stupidity. „I meant it! I never lied to you.“ he defended himself. „Oh cut the bullshit Taylor. The whole day you act like everything is fine and now you come here to tell me your crap. You told me you wanted this! And after you could finally fuck me you suddenly don't think this is such a good idea anymore. What a fucking coincidence. But at least you can add another girl to your little list.“ you said laughing to yourself. 

You couldn't believe it. You were so stupid. „(y/n) I just don't want this to start with me being away the first few months of our relationship.“ he tried to explain to you but you just shook your head. „Then you shouldn't have started it last night. Now leave my fucking apartment!“ you said, louder this time. He flinched at your outburst, but you didn't care. He started walking towards the door, when he said „I'm really sorry (y/n).“ and turned to look at you again. „Go to hell, Roger Taylor.“ you said, your expression filled with anger and hate. With a heavy sigh he left you alone in your apartment and you finally let the tears, that you were holding in, fall. How could you be so stupid. Brian told you this would happen and you actually thought he was wrong. You believed Roger.

Maybe it was just too good to be true, you thought to yourself. You sat down on your couch, hiding your face in your hands, feeling how they got wet from your tears. You didn't think it could get any worse but unbeknown to you something even bigger started last night.

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