#and the dude who groomed me in middle school kissed me for the first time in a church under the mary stained glass. like bitch what the fuc

[boldlyvoid]

would've could've should've hits me harder than any song that's ever been written and its not the girlhood line. its "the gods honest truth is that the pain was heaven"...

[thefanficmonster]

Casual

Ranboo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None, unless talking about the future counts

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the arrival of the dreadful invitation to his cousin’s wedding Ranboo turns to the only cover-up he can think of to keep his still-single status hidden from his family.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so glad you sent your idea to me and I’m so glad you were my first official Ranboo request. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to write it but I still hope you’ll come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Heyyy, so Y/N, I have a favor to ask you...um yeah, call me back, it’s awkward sending it via voicemail. Bye“

Huh - that’s the first thought that goes through my head when I listen to the voicemail left after a missed call from my best friend Ranboo. The favors he usually asks for consist of requesting assistance for his videos in which I also appear with a mask and sunglasses to keep the brand running. I genuinely have nothing against my face being shown but when I think about it, I’m honestly a bit glad people can’t identify me.

Anyways, back to the favors, Ranboo is no stranger to asking me for them but they’ve never been considered too awkward for a voicemail which is why I’m no slightly concerned. I’ve been swamped with work for school and studies for the graduation finals for the past two weeks and it seems like I’ll never get on top of it and I know Ranboo’s been in a similar situation too, so maybe he needs help with that? He’s not used to asking help for school stuff, he sometimes even has a hard time accepting it when I openly offer it to him.

I eventually sigh, decide that playing this guessing game will not get me anywhere and settle on giving him a call as I make my way home from the gym with my legs barely putting up with the task of carrying me around.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! Wh-...“

“Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding next weekend?!“

My legs take that opportunity to stop moving in the middle of the sidewalk which is luckily void of any people at the moment. It’s not my fault my body’s first reaction was to freeze up at the question that came flying at me like an out-of-control jet, almost as though he’s been dying to say it and get it over with.

“Um...run that by me again please, I think I misunderstood.“ I say, blinking blankly as though awoken from a fever dream. No, actually as though I’m IN a fever dream right now.

“Ok, now that the cat’s out of the bag, wanna grab some coffee and talk about it face-to-face. I need to see your facial expressions to gauge what response to expect.“ He says, the previous nervousness gone and his voice calm as regularly once again.

I’m this close to face-palming but I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bring myself to utter a reply, “Our usual spot. Be there in ten minutes.”

                                                             *  *  *

“No freaking way.“ I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat in the booth we picked when we arrived. Good thing I got an iced coffee cause even a hot one would’ve gone cold by now considering I haven’t yet taken the time to have even a sip of it. I’ve been too busy listening to the long and short of the explanation and begging speech Ranboo probably made last night to try and convince me to agree to this nonsense. “Dude, we’ve been friends since middle school-...“

“Exactly! Who else was I gonna ask?“ He cuts me off, pleading gaze meeting my unimpressed one.

I huff before continuing my previous statement, “We’ve been friends since middle school so you know my opinion on weddings.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘opinion’, giving him the clear hint at the distaste I’ve expressed on the topic multiple times before.

“And you know we’re on the same page there but there’s no way I can avoid going unless someone kidnaps me.“ He too now gets in the same stance as me, his coffee forgotten too.

I can’t help but snort out a little laugh, “I’d be more than happy to kidnap you considering the other option is far less appealing to me.“

He, of course, rolls his eyes at me as though he didn’t offer to do the same thing so I could avoid an exam but anyways. “So you’re gonna choose to fake a kidnapping that has the potential of landing you in jail over coming to eat some great food and maybe even have some fun at a wedding with your best friend? I’m hurt.“ He says, frowning to cover up the smile that’s fighting its way onto his face.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “I’d be kidnapping you, dummy...” I cut myself off to let out a long sigh and calm down before I go off at him. His smirk isn’t helping me much with the task either. I’ve known Ranboo long enough to know he’ll eventually convince me and he’s known me long enough to know how to do that exactly. With that in mind, there’s really no point in getting so worked up and wasting my energy. And so, despite my own rationality, I cave. “Fine, but I’m not staying the whole wedding.“

His eyes immediately light up and almost makes me feel the compromise was worth it. Almost. I mean, when you’ve been best friends with someone for so long, seeing them happy is worth more to you than your own comfort sometimes.

And he knows it too. Which is exactly why he outstretches his hand for me to shake and says: “Just one dance and you’re free to go. Deal?”

I take his hand without hesitations. That’s a better offer than I could’ve ever imagined. “Damn straight it’s a deal.“

                                                            *  *  *

“How long until you kick the heels off?“ Ranboo asks, bringing me a non-alcoholic cocktail and sitting down next to me.

I take a sip and giggle, “You kidding? I already kicked them off and replaced them with flats. I need mobility if we dance. They also lower the risk of me severing off a toe of yours if I step on you on accident.”

He laughs, clinking his glass against mine before he gets a bit more serious, “By the way, thanks for handling my family’s attack so well. I know it might’ve been a bit much but you handled it like a pro. Still, I’m sorry on their behalf.”

I shake my head and wave my hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. I’d probably react the same way if my brother or cousin brought a date to an important family event like this.” I instinctively turn to look in the direction of where the majority of his family has gathered around, chatting with guests, smiling brightly. It’s hard not to immediately take a liking towards these people. They’ve been a second family to me ever since Ranboo and I started hanging out so I completely understand why they were so shocked to see me in the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’ll tell my parents the truth later, our extended family is the ones I wanted to fool to be perfectly honest.“ He looks around as do I and we catch more than a few pairs of eyes fixated on us that turn away when they realize they’ve been spotted, “Mission accomplished by the looks of it.“

I chuckle. I’ve never felt so comfortable at a wedding before. I don’t feel stressed nor anxious despite knowing that there’s quite the number of eyes on me and there are whispers going around about my ‘relationship’ with Ranboo. It’s oddly calming and relaxing to be surrounded by some familiar and some unfamiliar faces. This cocktail is pretty great too.

Speaking of which, if it had any alcohol in it I’d blame it for the decision I’m about to make but this one’s entirely on me: I tap Ranboo with one hand while taking out my phone with the other. “If we’re already the talk of the wedding, let’s give them something to talk about.“ I say as I put up my phone, pretending to be taking a selfie leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When I pull away I can clearly see that he’s still processing what just happened. I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter as I reach out to wipe the lipstick stain I left on his cheek. He looks like a lost, clueless puppy with the question: ‘what on Earth just happened???’ replaying in his head and it’s so freaking cute!

Wait....what was that? Since when do I use the adjective cute to describe Ranboo? Didn’t I think he looks handsome in a suit earlier too? The hell is with me today?

Then it hits me - the feeling isn’t foreign. Like, I know I’ve felt it before but I never analyzed it or even bothered to acknowledge it. But now that I do, I’m afraid of what it might be.

“There!“ I say, desperately trying to push the thoughts away along with this little firework show in my stomach, “Now you have pinker cheeks. Well, cheek, singular.“

As if snapping out of his state of confusion, he returns to Earth with a smirk, “Kiss the other to even it?”

Alright, his blush might not be even but mine now is and it’s ten times as intense and very much apparent but I don’t let the feeling shine through anything else as I proceed to actually kiss his other cheek too, wiping the lipstick stain.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And just like that, as though it’s no big deal, he kisses my forehead.

See, that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be a big deal! It’s never been! This is far from the first time I’ve kissed him on the cheek or the first time he’s given me a forehead kiss. These are regular occurrences after years of this lovely friendship we have. Why do they feel so different now?

Then, much to my relief, the music starts and the lights turn off leaving only one spotlight for the groom and bride to have their first dance. They look absolutely astonishing and I can certainly say I’ve never before stopped to think that about any newly weds of the weddings I’ve preciously been to. I don’t know if it has something to do with the company I have for this particular wedding or it’s maybe the fact that my mindset’s changed over the years without me realizing.

Then I automatically look at Ranboo who just so happens to be looking at me too and all I can say is: my mindset hasn’t changed.

A loud applause takes over when the couple finish their dance, officially opening the dancefloor for any other pairs who’d like to occupy it and I’m happy to see how many people are eager to rush up with their partner.

 Ranboo gets up, putting the glass down and offers me his hand, “So, wanna dance? Don’t take this as a sign to leave though, we said one dance and you CAN leave, not SHOULD.” He says, giving me a warning look.

I roll my eyes and am about to give him some sass right back but he takes my hand and picks me up from my seat, leading me to the dancefloor.  And I gotta admit maybe it’s a good thing he did. If he left it to me I would’ve probably said no to the dance and ran the hell away. Why? - Cause I’m freaking terrified of this new mindset and point of view and these intense emotions I never used to pay any mind to before in regards to my best friend.

Friends don’t feel that way about friends. Friends don’t look at friends that way. What’s happening to me?

When I gotta look him in the eyes like this, not for the first time might I add, I can finally understand how the friends-to-lovers trope works: it’s all meaningless until it starts to mean so much to you. It’s all platonic until it reminds you of a romantic movie moment. It ‘best friends’ until it’s ‘I wish we were more than that’. It’s all casual, until it’s not.

And, unfortunately, it’s irreversible.

Damn do I wish I ran away now...

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know the wildest thing still to happen to me on this hellsite was my first experience of sexting, sans nudes, that was done in front of at least 250-500 followers because of those horny anons i had in early 2013 when i was 17. instead of being exposed to it on my phone privately with a partner at that age, it was done publicly for the internet to see lmao. i remember begging the anons to stop and “come off anon” because i was “losing followers” at the time too bc i was so insecure about my follower count lmao. and then yeah when they came off anon they were both 28 years old.

to write the responses, i just consulted cosmo mag sex pages for ideas hoping that the anons would like the options i chose. in one i detailed doing anal- a sex act i hadn’t even done yet irl- let alone every other thing i suggested in them (head, idek long, drawn out foreplay, some stupid fancy sex moves that cosmo was all like “use these moves to spice up your sex life 🔥🔥”, sex in a bath, i’m pretty sure i had some lines about tying or handcuffing them to a bed (????) etc etc etc)….

when again, i had never even done any of those above sex acts in real life. i was a naive teen who was incredibly shy in regards towards her love life because she’d “never been kissed” and had never had the “hot emo boyfriend whose in a band and is covered in tattoos” she’d always wanted, let alone even a boyfriend that she had actually fucking liked (ie clear braces boy, for like a month in year 9/2010 vs the popular boys that made fun of her, that she always had unrequited crushes on)…. hell, my blog title when i first started on here in 2011 was “the perfect epitome of being forever alone” because of these very reasons. but here she was, writing explicit sex acts to strangers like she knew what the fuck she was doing, to an audience of 250-500 people- and then to fucking grown ass men in inboxes. i was just parroting the shit i’d read in cosmo (both sex advice and sometimes excerpts of erotica/“sexy, steamy reads” they had some months) and also heard repeatedly in the porn that my high school stalker/creeper at public school loved to show (harass) me with to flirt with me, whenever we were alone together at school in 2012/2013.

like you could tell how naive i was….. because i used ridiculous lines like “like a gentleman entranced, you lead me to the bath for our next foray” and dumbass prose-y things like that. because what the fuck does that even mean 😂😅????

and this is why i think minors should be careful with their online experiences. like yeah, you could say that i wasn’t a minor anymore- more of a “young adult”- who should of made the smart decision to not engage with these anons. but i was a kid. i thought it was fun. and when the dudes came off anon, i thought to myself “it’s not like i’m ever gonna meet them if i ever go to the US or puerto rico at any point. it’s not like that they’ll ever recognise me in person or ever reach out to me again in the future. i might as well do it.” and i did eventually end up ignoring the guys in my inbox, due to my mental health kinda plummeting from the middle til the end of 2013 because of my end of high school exams and stuff… and also the puerto rican guy’s infamously inappropriate “hot PE teacher fucks HOT female high school student in the girls change room showers” fantasy which fucking disgusted me, when he full well knew that i was STILL IN high school.

and obviously again, there’s the point about using the “block” button function. but as i’ve stated several times over my years on here, back in my early days of tumblr, i never wanted to block or unfollow people (even if they were trash like these two men), because it seemed so “mean” and “final”. obvs now i have no qualms about blocking people, and actively encourage younger people on here to use the block button with reckless abandon towards creepy people or people who can hurt them in some way. but to high school teenage me, the whole “using the block button” thing seemed to go against me being a “nice girl/person” so i never used it, no matter which social media platform i was on.

this is why i’m hella scared for young teen girls on tik tok wanting to have onlyfans accounts: because it’s where they’ll be exposed to ACTUAL CREEPS AND PREDATORS incredibly quickly; all because they can make money off selling images of just their feet or eventually their body….. depending on what these creepy strangers demand from them….. and they’ll feel like they’ll have to do it…. but to do it before you even start experimenting properly with relationships and sex is even worse. like. yeah. i’ve admitted before that i originally started this tumblr to possibly post nudes, to see if i’d get the positive feedback that i so desperately wanted/craved from the boys in my year at catholic school- eg. to be called “sexy”, “hot”, “fuckable” possibly “beautiful”- like some of the so called “popular girls” got on their hella basic bikini photos back then (like i remember one girl i knew ended up with like 500 likes and a fair amount of comments on one of her bikini pics and i was INCREDIBLY BITTER because not even a pic of me with a nice outfit on, my hair done and makeup on could EVER get those numbers, let alone even break over the double digits).

but i decided posting nudes or other explicit images on here was an absolute no go, because i realised that i never wanted people that i knew digging up barely clothed/naked pics of me and sending them to me all like “hey, is this you?” and then possibly mocking me, all because i would’ve been dumb enough to put my face in them probably at the time. now when i take nudes and send them, i never show my face. because i know now, that even in relationships, your partner can use nude pics as leverage for arguments or to abuse you in such a way that they’ll upload your pics without your knowledge to god knows where on the internet probably as a way to get back at you in a horrible breakup.

this is what i sincerely hope some young girls who ever contemplate starting onlyfans accounts take some time SERIOUSLY CONSIDER. please know that if you share shit on onlyfans, it can shared and re-shared (i think idek how OF works tbh) to god knows who- and eventually end up in the hands of people you know. i don’t fucking care if it’s a “good way to make money!” or if people think that im trying to stop teen girls from being “girl bosses” and the other dumb as fuck internet memes you want to throw at me. because this shit isn’t “haha internet meme funny” material. it’s some fucking serious stuff. and also, i’m not saying “don’t become a sex worker when you’re older” or whatever either. you’re free to make that choice when you’re in your 20s (no i even mean 17-19 year olds in this post as “young teen girls”- sorry you’re basically kids to me at almost 26). just please consider where the fuck your stuff can be shared to. who it can end up being shared with or to.

this is why i was so fucking adamant with my infamous old follower mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF that i personally would NOT consider becoming a camgirl for him or just generally… because i had no idea where the fuck my images or videos would end up. and do you know the places i’d never want them to fucking be??? in the hands of my high school stalker/creeper. in the hands of those two 28yo men from 2013 (who’d now be in there late 30s or early 40s). i absolutely don’t want them in the hands the mid-to-late 20s and early 30s men that that girl i met at public school in 2012 who was pissed that i didn’t believe that were “adults” because we were finally over the legal age of consent (16) in our state of australia, and so we were apparently fine to “fuck” literal grown ass men because “just fuck them and they’ll be nice to you!!” which i knew was fucking bullshit.

i absolutely don’t fucking want explicit videos/images of me ending up in “why the fuck won’t you let me give you “sex lessons” in the back of my car as a “favour” and as payment for teaching you how to drive you stupid, stuck up & frigid, virgin bitch!?” guy’s hands from 2014 (when i was 18/19 at the time and he was 25… he ended up being the first person of many i’d EVER block on social media lol). or i don't want them in the hands of those weird early 20s dudes (one of which was trying to set me up with his friend) who hit on me at 16/17 (2012) who were angry that i didn’t like and watch porn as much as they did…. and who promptly asked me at the end of their period of harassing of me: “do you know any sluts we could add?” because i kept refusing their suggestions etc.

hell, quite frankly i don’t even want them to go to mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF either, but the very few and far between nudes that i sent on snapchat to him back in 2016 are some nudes that i’d rather forget lmao. hell. i don’t even know if MAF ever deleted my nudes or shared them somewhere else or not, after he fucking wheedled them out of me with “i’ve followed you for 4 years, don’t be a shit! you owe me nudes!” so he’d just shut the fuck up about my social life decisions and leave me the fuck alone.

i don’t want ANY ONE of the guys i mentioned above to get their hands on photos of minors either…. because i definitely know my hs stalker/creeper would… because his fave “make her jealous” tactic that he’s always used on me is that “hey…. i’m dating a *insert teenage girl’s age here*! be fucking jealous that you don’t fucking have me and feel guilty that you won’t fuck me like this girl does!!!” just like he did in 2015, when i ran into him on the home from uni… when i turned 20 the next week and he turned 20 that december. at that time it was a 14yo girl he used as an example of him “dating”/“fucking” to make me jealous. instead, i was completely and utterly fucking disgusted. like any fucking sane and normal human being would/should be at that horrible age gap. that is literally a fucking child that he was fucking grooming. and we were literal adults. back the fuck away.

just please. PLEASE CONSIDER the types of people that trawl these kinds of sites and their intentions. please consider that you are young. very fucking young. you literally DO NOT need to upload nudes to the internet because it’s apparently a “lucrative” business. fuck the jokey “boss babe” rhetoric around it all the way to fucking hell.

because if you’re a minor: i do not want you to have your first experience of sexting or sending explicit images literally in front of god knows how many total strangers for the whole world to see (okay i know only fans is like subscriber/follower based or whatever. but i don’t care)…… even when you (depending how good you are with relationships etc) haven’t reached the common supposed milestones of your “first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner” or “first kiss” or have even “lost your virginity” (which isn’t real anyway- don’t buy this fucking bullshit)…. just like i stupidly did with my exposure to sexting here on my tumblr back in 2013. these people don’t/won’t give a flying fuck about your privacy or safety. they don’t/won’t give a fuck about your boundaries either.

please don’t possibly scar yourself for life, just because you’re being told that it’s a quick & convenient way to make some money for weirdos on the depths of the internet. you will regret it in future. just like i do now with mine. it should’ve been something personal between me and and a guy i trusted and liked at the time. not to some random 250-500 random strangers on this hellsite (okay the notes on these posts were literally single digits or non-existent, but still… and also some of my irl friends who had tumblr saw these posts as well) for a show….. and then privately with two 28yo literal grown ass men…. who should’ve been fucking hitting on women their own goddamned age and in their own countries and NOT a 17yo high school KID (at the time) from australia; who, now in her 20s, needs therapy to sort this shit out lmao. mind you they both reeled me in with the “you’re so mature for your age” bullshit line…. which i fell for a little bit, even if it did make me feel kinda gross at the time, too. don’t fall for that bullshit either.

[justcallmehitgirl]

Good Woman Part 4 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter knows he’s getting in too deep.

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: smut, language, fluff, and some angst.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to get this chapter out sooner, but I’ve been bar prepping during the day so my writing has been limited to my nights. I’m excited to see where this story goes so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are about to get interesting is all I can say for now. As always, thank you for reading! Your support really means a lot to me and inspires me to continue writing. 

(4/21/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE // PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / STORY PAGE 

“You wanna come over and watch ‘Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ after school? I just downloaded it yesterday!” Ned exclaims, bouncing on his feet excitedly.

Peter glances over, readjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder as students hastily brush past them towards the entrance doors, signaling that it’s the end of another day.

He gives Ned a half-smile. “Sorry man, I can’t today. I gotta work on some stuff.”

Ned’s eyes dart around cautiously before leaning in and whispering, “Spider-Man related stuff?” 

Peter shakes his head. “No, just academic decathlon-related stuff.”

Ned knits his brows. “Academic decathlon? But you haven’t been to practice in weeks.”

Peter massages the back of his neck, his forehead creasing. “Yeah about that, I talked to Mr. Harrington and I’m stepping down from the team—”

“Dude, you can’t! You’re the only one who aced Physics, you can’t leave us!”

“Relax Ned, it’s all good cause I’ll be helping out with coaching instead.”

Ned knits his brows. “But Y/N Y/L/N’s in charge of coaching?”

“Yeah, I’m actually meeting up with Y/N after school.”

Ned stops in his tracks, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.

“Wait, I think I hallucinated for a second. What are you doing after school?”

“I’m meeting up with Y/N.”

“Holy shit, you’re seriously going to hang out with Y/N? When did you start talking to Y/N?!” 

“Chill, Ned, it’s not a big deal,” Peter shrugs, continuing to walk forward as Ned follows.

“Not a big deal? She’s one of the prettiest and smartest girls in our school. And you were just saying how hard you’ve been crushing on her for years.”

“Shhh, Ned! Besides, that was like a month ago.”

“So you don’t like her anymore?” Ned asks, raising his brows.

“I never said that.”

“So you’re in love with her?”

“Ned,” Peter groans. “It’s complicated.”

“How? When? I need details, Peter!”

Peter licks his lips, contemplating whether Ned should know the entire story. 

“She just sat next to me in art class the other day and we started talking and then she asked me for help.”

“I can’t believe she asked you for help. You know she doesn’t give any guy at this school the time of day, right?”

“Gee thanks, Ned. And so what? She has a right to spend her time as she wants. She’s a busy person with a lot of responsibilities. She wants to go Ivy League you know.”

Ned just shakes his head. “You got it bad for her, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes, stopping outside the doors of the library.

“I’m meeting her here.”

“You are one lucky dude.”

If he only knew, Peter thinks.

“Let me come with you,” Ned beams, tugging on Peter’s arm.

“What? No way!”

“C’mon, I need some entertainment this afternoon since you’re bailing on me.”

“Ned. . .”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.”

Peter playfully shoves Ned’s shoulder. “Thanks man, I’ll see you later.”

Peter heads inside, taking a quick look over his shoulder to see Ned still watching him intently. He motions for Ned to leave, who throws his arms up in mock frustration as he walks away.

Peter scans the library, his breath quickening as his eyes land on you. sitting at a table by yourself. You’re sitting alone, your chin resting on the palm of your hand with your eyes cast down at a textbook. Peter’s eyes are wide as he gazes at you for a few moments, admiring your serene expression. He’s become so used to being with you alone in the confines of your cozy bedroom, where it’s just the two of you wrapped up in each other, that it’s a bit jarring seeing you in such a similar state in public.

His hands feel clammy, imagining how to interact with you outside your bubble. He wonders if you’ll figure it out. Peter knows you’re smart—he’s sure you’ll figure it out eventually. But lately he’s been wondering what sort of image you’ve built in your mind as to Spider-Man’s true identity. He wonders if you think he’s some sort of suave Tony Stark-type, or a rugged Steve Rogers. 

But he knows for a fact that you’ve probably never considered it could be him: Peter Parker. Peter Parker from Queens with no parents and no money who lives with his aunt in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. The same Peter Parker who spilled milk all over himself in the third grade, got teased every day in middle school, and was too much of a coward to tell you to your face how much he likes you.

Peter frowns and wonders if he’s actually jealous of his alter ego—his alter ego who got to hold you, kiss you, and touch you all over. He thinks he’s going crazy. But he knows that even though him and Spider-Man are one in the same, one got to call you his while the other would only ever pine for you.

The more he ponders, the more he just wants to turn right back around, walk out of the building, and watch “Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” with Ned. He briefly thinks it’ll be easier to just make up some excuse to stay away from you at school. 

But there’s a part of him that simply aches to be around you as himself and give you the things that Spider-Man can’t. His heart pounds, silently hoping that maybe one day he will.  

Peter draws in a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair before continuing towards you. He grips the strap of his backpack. “Hey.”

You look up and smile, eyes bright. “Hi Peter.”

Peter gulps, tugging on the collar of his shirt as he slips into the seat across from you. “What’re reading?”

“U.S. Government,” you respond, lifting it up to show him the red, white, and blue cover like you’re Vanna White. 

He chuckles lightly and unzips his backpack to take out his laptop. “Who do you have?”

“Mr. Grant. He’s tough, but he really prepares you for his exams. Plus,” you lean in close, voice hushed, “I think he’s secretly a softie, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Duly noted.”

“Are you taking U.S. History now with Mrs. Taylor?”

Peter nods, booting up his laptop. 

“Focus on the chapter takeaways at the end of each section. That’s where she usually gets her exam questions from. Oh, and try to volunteer a lot. She usually bumps up your grade if she sees you making an effort.”

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” Peter smiles.

“Of course,” you smile back and close your textbook. You both just smile at each other for a moment before you blink, looking away to start up your laptop. Peter clears his throat, cheeks flushed as he looks back at his computer screen.

“So, I was thinking,” you continue, “that we could go off of Mr. Harrington’s practice questions first. Then we can look online and compile some of our own. I found a bunch of older questions that they’ve asked in the past which we can use as a guide or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah definitely. I mean, I defer to the expert.”

“Great. Oh!” You reach down to dig through your backpack. “I brought index cards. I usually write the questions down on them so it’s easier to go through later.” 

You fish out a few unopened packs before reaching across the table to offer them to Peter. He reaches over to take them, fingers lightly brushing against yours. 

“Sorry,” he blushes, gripping the index cards tightly in his grasp.

“You’re fine,” you wave. “Thanks again for helping me with this. I was thinking about it more, and I realize I may have cornered you into it. I can be a little pushy.”

“Not at all,” Peter blurts quickly. “You didn’t corner me into it and you’re not pushy. I’m happy to help, and I’m pretty glad I can apart of the team in some way so I guess I should be the one thanking you for asking me.”

You smile. “We’ll call it even then. I feel the same too, by the way. I really miss being on the team if I’m being honest.”

“Why did you quit?”

You sigh heavily and shrug. “My course load is more intense this year so I had to make some changes. Plus I tutor after school so that’s absorbed a lot of my time.”

Peter cocks his head. “You tutor?”

“Yup, sixth and seventh grade math at Queens Rock Middle,” you beam.

“That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I feel like I’m really making a difference in their lives, which is pretty rewarding.”

“Yeah, I. . . uh. . . I wish I was helping people like you do,” he says lamely

Well, besides saving New York from impending doom from time to time, of course, he thinks.

“Well not to sign you up for something else, but they could always use more volunteers.”

Peter squints his eyes playfully. “I feel like you have a secret agenda going on here.”

“Of course, I need to groom a protege to take my place. It’s part of my evil master plan.”

“I doubt you have an evil bone in your body.”

You raise your brow. “Wanna bet?” 

You eye him deviously, and Peter gulps—feeling a wave of tension blanket over you both. You suddenly laugh.

“I’m just kidding! Lighten up, Peter,” you tease.

Peter gives you a lopsided grin. He watches as your gaze lowers onto his mouth. Your smile falters. 

He furrows his brows. “What?”

You blink and look away. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I was just thinking we have a lot to get through this afternoon so we should get on it,” you murmur, voice tight.

Peter simply nods in response, mouth settling in a hard line as you turn your attention towards your computer screen.

You sit in silence for the next hour. Peter chews on his bottom lip while occasionally stealing a few glances over at you. You keep your eyes cast downward, attention fixed on scribbling down questions on the index cards laid out in front of you. He watches as a piece of hair falls over your face, and he clenches his fist to stop himself from reaching over to tuck it behind your ear.

“Hey Y/N.” 

You both look up. Peter’s eyes immediately narrows while his jaw tightens.

“Hi Brad,” you greet, voice even and stoic. Brad’s eyes dart between you and Peter before settling on you, ignoring Peter entirely.

“So, are you ready for the Calc test on Monday?”

You give a half-shrug and respond, “I think so, although I’m struggling a bit with derivatives.”

“Same,” Brad breathes, throwing his hands in the air. “I was struggling like crazy when Mrs. Park was first explaining it."

You chuckle, “Agreed.”

“Well, if you’re still struggling with it, w-would you maybe want to study together this weekend? I’m a big fan of study buddies.”

Peter grips his pen tightly, feeling it start to snap in his hand. He wants to shout, Back off, Brad. She’s mine. Peter immediately admonishes himself—recognizing that such an outburst would be entirely weird and inappropriate. He knows you aren’t his, or even Spider-Man’s. You didn’t belong to anybody.

“Oh that’s so nice, I really appreciate the offer, Brad. But I prefer to study by myself. I’m not really great studying with other people, tend to get too distracted and stuff.”

Peter can sense that you notice Brad’s look of defeat so you add politely, “I’ll definitely let you know if I change my mind though.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s no problem, Y/N. I’m free whenever.”

You nod and plaster a smile on your face. Peter’s forehead creases as he watches Brad continue to gawk at you. You blink and smack your lips together.  “So. . . um, me and Peter have to get back to writing up questions for academic decathlon.”

Your voice shakes Brad out of his stupor, face flushing. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll. . . uh. . . see you later.”

He waves awkwardly and hastily scurries away. You shake your head and continue working.

“I think he likes you,” Peter pipes in, eyes cast down as he busily scribbles on an index card.

You glance up, nose crinkling. “Brad? No way.”

“He was practically drooling over you,” Peter remarks.

“You think so?”

Peter purses his lips. “I’m sure of it.”

You smile. “Brad’s not a bad guy.”

“Are you. . . like. . . interested?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “No, not at all. Brad’s nice, but I wouldn’t want to go out with him.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbles.

“Plus, just between us, I—I’m already seeing someone actually.”

Peter perks up at your response, but he keeps his eyes cast down. “Really? Do I know him?”

“No, he doesn’t go to Midtown.”

“College guy, huh?”

You laugh. “Umm… no. Well, I don’t think so actually.”

“Is it serious?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, he sounds like a really lucky guy.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” you beam, a flush creeping on your face as you turn your attention back to your index cards. 

Peter quickly glances at you while the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

—

Peter does not move at first, body pressed near your window as he observes you.

You’re lying on your bed, a pillow tucked under your chest as your eyes scan your computer screen. He takes in the sight of you, from your oversized sweatshirt to your form-fitting black leggings. You toy with a lock of hair, the light emanating from the computer softly illuminating your face.

Peter finally lifts his hand to lightly knock, watching your head jerk in his direction. You smile brightly, waving your hand to motion for him to enter. He obeys, pushing open the window and slipping inside. You quickly shut your laptop close, moving it aside. You sit up as he approaches you, lifting up his mask to give you a kiss.

“How are you?” you ask against his lips.

“Better now that I’m with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tease.

“I can’t help it, I’m with the girl of my dreams.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Are you just trying to butter me up?”

“Me? Not at all.”

You shake your head and look away bashfully.

“Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking at him. “I want to show you something.”

You tilt your head, and he grabs your hand. You stand up, and he leads you towards the window, gently tugging you along as he pulls his mask back down. You turn your head, and quickly glance over at your bedroom door. Will your parents notice that you’re gone?, you think. Would they freak out? Call the cops? Should you risk it? 

But those thoughts are quickly squashed by the warm feeling in your chest as you bend down to crawl through the window, his hands lightly grasping your hips in support. As your feet land on the fire escape, your body straightens, your eyes looking up at the night sky.

Peter stands beside you, and you turn, brows quirked. “Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he pulls you close to him. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Hold onto me,” he whispers, voice hot and soft against the shell of your ear.

You loop your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you breathe. 

You glance down, body tensing and bottom lip trembling. 

“Are you okay?” He runs his arms over your hips.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Ready?”

“No,” you chuckle nervously.

Peter peers down at you, his voice soft and soothing to compensate for his covered face. “Hey, I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

You reluctantly nod and Peter exhales deeply. He takes a few steps backward before leaping off the fire escape, your face immediately burying in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes tightly. Your hair whips in the wind as Peter swings over the bustling city below, your grip tightening around his shoulders as you let out a surprised shriek at he momentum.

“Don’t be afraid!” Peter shouts, glancing down at you.

You breathe in deeply before lifting your head and opening your eyes. You blink as you hesitantly looks down, your eyes roaming over the cars zipping through the streets, the lights shining from street lamps, and the crowds of people drifting down the sidewalks. 

“Everything looks so tiny,” you murmur, awe transforming your face.

“It’s cool, right?”

You look up, your eyes glistening as you nod excitedly. He grins underneath his mask, tightening his hold on you as he continues swinging from building to building. Your wide eyes dart around, mesmerized by the sight as you clutch him close as your heart beats wildly.

Neither of you had been in love before, but the thought crosses both your minds: “Maybe this is love.”

He feels you nuzzle your face against his chest, your body still and relaxed as you continue absorbing the sights and sounds surrounding you.

Peter eventually slows his movements, spotting a good place to stop and rest. 

Once his feet meet the rooftop, you untangle yourself from his arms, jumping up and down exuberantly. 

“Holy shit, that was amazing! I can’t believe you can do that all the time!”

“It’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Does it ever get old?”

Peter shakes his head. “No way, sometimes I’m just jumping out of my skin to get out here. To be above the ground, it makes me feel like a bigger part of the world.”

“Thank you for this.” 

“I know I can’t give you much right now, and I can’t take you out on dates dressed like. . . this, but I wanted to show you a little piece of my world.”

“I really appreciate that.” 

You pause for a moment, your forehead creasing before you continue, “Do you think you’d do this forever? The whole superhero thing I mean?” 

“I honestly I don’t know. I feel like I should though. You see, when you can do the things that I can do and you don’t and then the bad things happen. . . they happen because you didn’t do anything to stop them.”

“That sounds like quite a lot to carry on your shoulders.”

Peter gives you a half-shrug. “You get used to it.”

You nod before looking away, your head tilting as you gaze up at the dark sky. 

Peter watches you, your mouth 

“It’s quite a sight,” you murmur.

His eyes never leave you as he responds, “It is.”

You hug yourself, your body shivering as a cool autumn breeze envelopes you.

“Cold?”

“Just a little.”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you close as he strokes your back. He feels you relax against him, enjoying the warmth emanating from his suit.   

“My brown-eyed boy,” you hum softly.

You both begin swaying to the tune. Peter’s movements are a little clumsy, but your smiles encourage him to continue, even extending his arm to spin you around, earning him a giggle. 

He slides his hand down your back, his fingers brushing against your bottom. As he starts to move his hand, you look up.

“You don’t have to stop. I like it when you touch me,” you whisper. 

Peter licks his lips, feeling the familiar heat rising in his belly. His eyes dart around the empty rooftop over to the surrounding buildings.

“But. . . “

You take his hand, placing it over your covered center. He tilts his head, pulling his mask above his mouth as his throat bobs.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care. I want you,” you say, your voice husky.

Peter just nods dumbly, gently grabbing the back of your neck to press his lips against yours. The kiss is slow and soft, his hand resting below your ear as your breaths mingle. You press into him, your heart beating rapidly in tandem with his. Your tongues dance for dominance, the intensity building as your hand travels down his spine, his body quivering from your touch.

You pull your mouth away, turning your body in his arms to press your back against his chest. He runs his hands along your body, feeling his way from your waist up to your chest. You turn your head to kiss him again, moaning in his mouth as he massages your breast through your sweatshirt. 

Your lips fall away from his, your mouth gaping as his other hand hovers over the waistband of your leggings.

“Please,” you whine. 

Without missing a beat, he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his teasing fingers making you tremble. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder as he runs his fingers over lips, parting them slowly. He start to massage your clit, your wetness trickling onto his hand to help his movements. 

The hand massaging your breast snakes underneath your sweatshirt, your nipple hardening instantly under his thumb. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him.

You grip onto his forearms as you rock against his hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Your eyes flutter open, your eyes fixed on the stars above you.

His fingers briefly leave your clit as he pushes them inside you. Your face flushes as your tight opening clenches around him, his touch drawing even more slickness from your folds.

“Do this feel good?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod. “You make me feel so good,” you moan. “You make me feel beautiful.” 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

He removes his slick fingers from inside you, and you softly mewl. He continues caressing your clit, finger rubbing in steady circles. You tighten your grip on his arms, body tense. You grind erratically against him, his hard length nestled between your cheeks. 

You start to babble incoherent words, filled with breathy gasps and moans.

“I want you to come for me,” he whispers, quickening his movements on your clit.

He places his lips on the side of your throat, licking and sucking your pulse point. You cry out loudly as you start to shake in his arms as you cum. He slips his fingers back inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him. He rocks against you, increasing the pressure against his crotch.

His lips leave your skin, head falling forward as his orgasm follows. He grunts, thrusting against you in short jerks as he releases.

He holds you firmly against him, cupping your pussy in his hand as his thrusts slow. Your body slumps against him,  He turns you around in his arms to softly kiss you, as you practically melt in his embrace.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” you smile dreamily.

He smooths his hand over your hair. “You’d be the first.”

“You’re just being modest. I bet you get all the ladies in real life.”

Peter chuckles. “Maybe in a different life.”

“In a different life, huh? Well maybe in a different life I can say that I met you somewhere? Like when those couples say they didn’t meet on Tinder or something.”

He smiles. “Okay, where did we meet?”

You bite your lip. “Umm, how about on the bus?”

“The bus?”

“Yes, ‘Speed’ was one of my favorite movies growing up so I thought it was kind of romantic that Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock got together at the end.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. He strokes your lower back. “Mental noted. Please continue.”

“Okay, hmm. . . how about I was coming home from school one day. All the seats were taken so I had to stand. . . but then you saw me and you were such a gentleman that you gave me your seat. Then we introduced ourselves, and you complimented my sweatshirt, which happened to be my favorite Mickey Mouse one.”

He hums in approval as you continue, “And then you saw the math book in my hands and—”

“And we talked about your love for math,” he finishes. 

You look up and grin widely. “Yes, exactly. And then I noticed your Star Wars shirt and we talked about how I haven’t seen the new Star Wars movies.”

“Wait, how have you not seen the new Star Wars movies?”

“I’m a sucker for the originals. I still refuse to watch the prequels.”

“Blasphemy I tell you,” he teases. “But please, keep going.”

“But alas, we arrived at my stop so I had to leave, but you followed me even though your stop was blocks away. You walked me to the doorstep of my apartment building and then we exchanged numbers.”

“And we texted all day and night,” Peter murmurs.

“And then I saw you on the bus the next day, and the next day, and the next day. And then you finally asked me out.”

“I like our story.”

“Yeah, me too,” you yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. It’s getting late and I gotta get out of this suit,” he softly laughs, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

You knit your brows together, opening your mouth but the words fall from your lips as realization dawns on. You glance down at his crotch, your cheeks reddening.

“Are you sure you can take me home in that. . . state?”

“I’m not sure, this has never happened before,” he blushes.

You bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping your mouth. You place a chaste kiss on his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ready?”

You nod as he pulls his mask over the rest of his face. You inhale deeply as he leaps from the building your body still buzzing from your orgasm. You close your eyes, resting your head against him as the wind rustles through your hair.

Once Peter lands on your fire escape, he nuzzles his face against your hair before easing you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you. 

“When will I see you again?”

He strokes the side of your face, closing your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“I don’t know. My patrolling schedule is. . . unpredictable.”

“Okay,” you smile weakly, shoulders slumping.

Peter bows his head, wishing he could wipe the disappointed look from your face. “In our story, I take you to my favorite pizza spot.”

"Go on.”

“And then we get ice-cream. . . go to Astoria Park and sit in one of those benches to watch the sunset.”

“Does this date end with a goodnight kiss at my front door?”

“Sure. . . then I can awkwardly explain to your parents why I’m kissing their daughter.”

“My parents would love you.”

“They would?”

“Mhmm, as long as you don’t tell them that we sneak around at night, of course.”

He laughs. “Sounds fair.”

Peter wants that more than anything. He craves normalcy with you wants—he wants to meet your parents, walk you home from school, take you to the movies. He wants you to hang out with him and Ned and show you all the Star Wars prequels. He wants to call you his. 

Peter closes his eyes, hoping this never ends. But soon another thought creeps up in his mind that makes his throat feel tight and chest hurt. He frowns, instinctively clutching you closer in his arms. 

He knows that everything ends eventually.

Tag list: @thatpeterparkerfan / @professionalphangirluniverse / @julimelodi / @sighharrington / @merelymarianne / @soloseb / @superspideyy / @babyjesuscat / @stardust-ghost / @oh-annaa / @iloveyouironman / @nyeddleblog / @bloominess / @itsjust-evalyn / @shawnmendes-thewriter / @cotton-octopus / @ghostofdrfluke / @imofficiallyobsessed / @charismas-world / @f1zzy-izzy / @kissykissykissykissykissy / @thepeterfuckinparker / @ahajalen1 / @vhgirlforever / @sargentjamesbarnes / @icecoldghost / @space-princesssss / @undiadeestos / @teenageeggsneckpasta / @ lindabanri02222 / @franbway / @5sosuperntaural / @spookyanairwin / @spideyluke / @writing-panda-uwu / @yanderepeterparker / @tomshufflepuff / @slutforbuckybarnes / @mindset-jupiter / @mutuallynotmutual / @maybemona

[officialbillhader]

Pool Boy (Macdennis)

Prompt: 80s AU where Dennis is a high power businessman and in a loveless marriage with his perfect wife Mandy, they live in a perfect mansion with their perfect children until Dennis gets feelings for their white trash pool cleaner with the beautiful brown eyes and bird that won’t quit. Fic is Notsfw! The nonsfw part is at the end. It also deals with cheating. Posted as chapter 17 of Now That I Found You (but it can be read as a stand alone). – “What’re the names of your family?” Frank points to the framed photo on his desk. 

Dennis thinks he should know by now considering they’ve been working together for a few years, but he digresses. Frank’s the type of dude to be petty enough to demote or fire Dennis for pointing that out.

“Wife is Mandy and the two children are Brian and Samantha." 

"Gorgeous family, huh?" 

"Oh, yeah. I’m very happy. Now, about the presentation tomorrow…”

***

It’s a fucking lie. He’s not happy, he hasn’t been happy since Mandy first got pregnant and all emotional and needy and suddenly he was expected to be a good husband and a good dad. Then Mandy got pregnant again and she was beyond excited but Dennis only became unhappier having to take care of a toddler and a pregnant wife, then a toddler and a baby, then he got his promotion and Dennis had them moved into a mansion just because they had the money to and it was easier to avoid his family in a bigger space. 

While all this happened, it was obvious that Mandy stopped loving him as much as he stopped loving her. She stopped trying to have sex, stopped trying to cuddle, stopped trying to talk about her day and his day. There’s a gap in the middle of their bed now, one that’s cold and unwrinkled. 

Now, he stays at work for as long as possible, working overtime each and every week, happiest when he comes home after dinner and the kids are already in bed. He’ll sit on the couch and drink beer until he knows Mandy is in their bed asleep, then he’ll go to bed. Sometimes Mandy will join him on the couch and give him updates about the house, but usually he ignores her until she goes away. 

Tonight is one of those nights. She plops down on the opposite side of the couch from him, her own beer in hand. He half-assedly greets her, then they’re silent for a long moment, staring at the TV, neither really watching it. 

Eventually, Mandy pipes up. “I hired a new pool cleaner. He’s coming on Saturday, but I’m going to be gone. Can you show him where the pool is?" 

Dennis grunts an agreement. "What time?" 

"Around nine, I think." 

"Okay.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go to bed, then. Goodnight, Dennis.” She doesn’t try to kiss him as she leaves. She stopped doing that long ago.

***

Saturday comes. Mandy wakes him up around eight, before she leaves, and reminds him to greet the pool cleaner. He doesn’t make any type of vocal response, but he also doesn’t go back to sleep. He gets up, takes a shower, gets dressed, then goes to the kitchen, only to find Samantha with her nanny. She yells out to him excitedly and runs towards him, being swooped into his arms with a hug. 

He loves his children. He truly does. But they don’t make him happy and they’re exhausting and if there’s one thing he’s learned in his life it’s that love can only go so far. 

Still, he ends up spending time with Samantha until he hears a knock on the front door and sends her back with her nanny. She protests, saying she wants to stay with him, but he doesn’t let her. Claims he has work to do, but, really, if he wanted to stay with her, he’d be able to.

He answers the door at the third time the bell is rung. He means to tell the pool boy off for being impatient, but his voice gets caught in his throat the moment he sees him. 

The pool boy is, surprisely, very attractive. He’s built well, he has soft eyes, a strong chin, floppy hair. He isn’t covered in dirt either, like Dennis subconsciously expected him to be. No, he’s actually quite clean and well groomed. Even his beard is trimmed exactly to fit his face shape.

“Sir?” Pool Boy says, concern on his face, and Dennis realizes Pool Boy’s been talking the entire time he’s been checking him out. 

“Oh, yeah– the pool,” he snaps out of it. “Follow me." 

***

Dennis watches Pool Boy work. It’s easy to do, after all. He sits out on the porch, lets the sun tan his skin, gets up and grabs a beer occasionally, and he watches as Pool Boy, well, cleans the pool. 

It’s a hard job. Mandy had fired their last pool cleaner back in the fall and hadn’t bothered to get a new one until now that it’s almost summer, so the pool never got any of the winter chemicals in it and was never drained of some of its water. It just sat, growing algea, for almost three whole seasons. Really, it needs to be entirely drained and scrubbed, but that’s for Pool Boy to figure out and do, not Dennis.

Right now he seems to be waiting as the pool drains water, looking at all his chemicals in the meantime and comparing them. 

Dennis finishes his third beer of the morning, afternoon, whatever. When he gets up to get another one, he figures he might as well offer Pool Boy some water or a beer or something. He calls out to him and Pool Boy nearly jumps out of his skin, running his head in circles before he finds the source of the sound. 

"Do you want anything to drink?” Dennis asks. 

Pool Boy seems hestitant to answer at first, then he seems to get over his nerves. “Can I have some water, Mr. Reynolds?” he requests. 

“Please, call me Dennis." 

Dennis can just barely see Pool Boy nod his head. 

***

"Thank you, Mr. Dennis.” He takes the bottle from him and drinks it down halfway, obviously a lot thirstier than he was willing to let on. 

Dennis wants to tell him that just Dennis is fine, but he doesn’t. It suddenly doesn’t seem worth it, not when Mr. Dennis makes his stomach do a flip like he’s a school girl.

Dennis doesn’t leave when he should, which happens to be right after he gives Pool Boy the water. No, he sticks around, and he makes it awkward, and then he makes it even more awkward when he clears his throat, utters a goodbye to Pool Boy, then turns on his heel and leaves.

***

He wasn’t awkward around Mandy. He wooed her like he wooed any other female, the only difference being that this time he was out of college and had the expectation of marriage and children placed on him, especially by his mother, who saw it as a fact of life that Dennis would grow up and give her grandchildren. Dennis knew she never actually cared much for grandchildren, she just cared about what grandchildren meant for her in society. That she’s not behind all her other rich friends, that she’s worthy of grandchildren, whatever.

She died before she could meet Brian. She never even saw Mandy get pregnant. Not that Dennis cared, really, but it did kind of ruin the whole experience of giving his mom grandchildren.

And it made him realize that he’s not sure if he ever actually loved Mandy in the first place. He loved the idea of having a wife, of having children, of giving his mom grandchildren, of having children before his sister, and he tricked himself into believing he loved Mandy, and he tricked himself into believing he was happy to marry her, and he tricked himself into believing he was happy when Brian was born, when Samantha was born. He tricked himself into loving Mandy, really, loving her until the well went dry and he couldn’t love her anymore, for one reason or another.

He thinks she loved him. He did woo her, after all. He got her to say yes. He got her to get pregnant twice. He knows she doesn’t love him anymore, though. It’s obvious with everything they do. He’s surprised she hasn’t moved to one of the vacant guest rooms in the house, or made him move.

He doesn’t know where their relationship is heading. A divorce, most likely, one as messy as his parent’s divorce, one that’s going to traumatize his children like his parent’s divorce traumatized him and his sister, but he can’t bring himself to care. The moment he cares, the moment it will seem real. The moment he cares, the moment he knows he fucked up his life by getting down one on knee and smiling when she said yes.

***

It’s really easy to watch Pool Boy, Dennis learns. Pool Boy is here every weekend and only the weekends because apparently he has some other job over the week, which Dennis is fine with, because he’s only home during the weekends anyway.

Pool Boy knows that Dennis is watching him because Dennis brings him a new bottle of water every time he finishes one. He doesn’t mention it, only thanks him, makes small talk, then goes back to his work and Dennis goes back to the deck. The pattern repeats until Pool Boy finishes for the day. It goes on for weeks.

To Dennis’s dismay, the pool is getting cleaner and cleaner with each passing weekend. Of course, the pool always needs new chemicals and always needs to be vacuumed, so Pool Boy’s job is never actually over, but, once the pool is clean, there’s no reason for him to spend the whole day at the house. He’ll only have to come over every Saturday, check the chemical levels, do what needs to be done, then leave.

So as the weekends dwindle, Dennis starts to slip Pool Boy tips along with the water bottles, which Pool Boy takes without a word. Dennis sees it as an incentive for Pool Boy not to forget about him, but Pool Boy does what Dennis doesn’t expect.

Pool Boy starts to tease him.

The teasing starts miniscule. The shirt he wears is tighter, subtly showing off his muscles, and he isn’t as adamant on pulling up his shorts when they ride down his hips, and he doesn’t care much about getting wet.

It’s killing Dennis. Pool Boy was attractive dressed decently, let alone this. He doesn’t know how much more he can take before he pounces.

***

Pool Boy takes off his shirt today, which is enough to send Dennis feral, but then he makes eye contact with him, and he fucking winks. No shame to it, just a clear as day wink.

Then he goes back to working as if he did nothing.

Dennis tries to make himself believe that he didn’t actually see the wink, but he can’t. He knows what he saw. He knows that he’s being flirted with like there’s no tomorrow, like he’s not married.

At the end of the day, when he goes to ask Pool Boy how much longer it’ll be before the pool is ready, he slips a hundred-dollar bill in his hand.

***

Mandy knows he spends the weekends outside. She can tell when the freckles on his shoulders come out, he can tell when his skin becomes three shades darker. She can tell when she doesn’t find him on a couch in a room hidden from the children, TV on, beer in his head, eyes glazed over.

When she finds where he’s been hanging out outside, just on the deck, no less, she knows what he’s doing. She finds the Pool Boy attractive herself.

She didn’t know her husband swung that way, though.

She’s hurt, of course, her husband is staring at a man behind her back, but what is she going to do about it? Throw a fit, get the children involved, go stay with her mother? She knows what she got into a year after marrying Dennis. She figured out quickly that she would never be treated right while she was with him. She did nothing about it then and she does nothing about it now.

She lets him have his weekends with the pool boy.

***

Pool Boy is fucking killing him.

He’s stayed faithful in his marriage, but he can’t anymore. Not with how Pool Boy looks at him when Dennis hands over the water, sultry eyes, sweat shining on his forehead, dry kissable lips. Not with how Pool Boy never wears a shirt anymore, not with how he seems to have forgotten his underwear, not with how he has a package that he doesn’t mind Dennis looking at.

Dennis can see it because he’s moved much closer to the pool than the deck. He’s still not at the pool, per se, but he’s only a few feet from it. He brought out a chair and set it up on the grass and he leaves it out, told the gardeners to not touch it, so it’s always there, ready for him.

The sun is hot today so Pool Boy is going through more water than he normally does, but that’s okay because Dennis has long since kept a cooler filled with beer and water by his feet.

The next time Dennis gives Pool Boy a bottle of water, his hand lingers. It’s hot against Dennis’s hand and the condensated bottle. Their eyes meet. The sexual tension builds up farther than it’s ever been so far, and Dennis panics. He clutches down on the bottle, feeling all the air push at the lid, threatening to make it pop off.

“Mr. Dennis,” Pool Boy mumbles.

“Yes?” Dennis responds. His grip on the bottle doesn’t loosen.

“Can you let go of the bottle?”

Dennis snaps out of it. His hand falls by his side and dangles uselessly and suddenly he’s more embarrassed than he should be. He can feel his cheeks start to warm up and he hopes that Pool Boy will just think that the heat is getting to him.

Pool Boy smiles, drinks some of the water, then places it on the ground by his feet. He turns around and gestures at the pool.

“It’s gotten pretty clean, huh, Mr. Dennis?”

“Yeah,” Dennis responds numbly, because he’s not looking at the pool. He’s looking at the way Pool Boy’s muscles twitch and move as he moves his arm and shoulder, how sweat makes the tan skin shine.

Dennis has always liked how smooth a woman’s back is, has never paid much attention to what the muscles look like when they’re defined, but as he looks at Pool Boy, he can’t even picture what a woman’s back looks like. Sure, he likes Mandy’s back, wouldn’t have married her if there was something he didn’t like about her body, but him liking Pool Boy’s back feels difference. It feels much more natural to like his back, like he isn’t trying to foce himself to like something he simply can’t. 

He shakes those thoughts away. Too heavy. 

“It should be done in another week or two." 

Dennis’s heart speeds up. "No!” he yells out before he can stop himself. Pool Boy turns and looks at him with wide eyes and Dennis has to restrain himself from fidgeting. “Sorry, I meant– it doesn’t look too clean does it?" 

Pool Boy gives it a once over, then looks at Dennis like he’s crazy. 

"I’ve scrubbed the whole thing, Mr. Dennis. It’s almost sparkling." 

Yeah, it is. Dennis clears his throat. 

He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s always been smooth and relaxed around anyone he’s ever wanted to sleep with. He was even smooth and relaxed when he proposed to Mandy. How he’s acting now is unlike him and, frankly, upsetting. 

"I guess,” he hesitates. “I guess, just, go home early. Take the rest of the day off." 

Pool Boy has concern written over his face. His cheeks are pink and it must be because of the heat, not because Dennis is doing a good job flirting. 

"Really, Mr. Dennis?" 

"Really." 

Pool Boy has good teeth, Dennis notices.

***

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. After sending Pool Boy home, he took a hot shower and he changed into clean clothes and he most certaintly avoided thinking about shirtless Pool Boy.

Now he sits on his couch and he waits for whoever-the-fuck cooks dinner for him and his fanily to come tell him that there’s food, only for him to respond that he doesn’t want to eat, partly because he doesn’t like eating and partly because he doesn’t want to see his family. 

If he could, he’d walk out of this life right now and carve a new one with Pool Boy. 

But he can’t.

He shouldn’t be so nervous around him. He shouldn’t shake and hesitate and stutter. Really, he’s Pool Boy’s superior. So what if he’s attractive? So what if he allows Dennis to escape this life he hates? So what if Dennis wants to wrap his arms around his waist and feel his floppy brown hair at his neck as his lips travel down? So what about any of it? 

It all feels different. Less out of Dennis’s control than ever. 

***

Mac knows that what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t be flirting with a married man. But he also knows he can’t stop. 

It’s easy. Mr. Dennis eats it up and purposely eggs him on, whether he knows he does it or not. Although, he definitely knew what he was doing when he started slipping Mac money. 

Mac felt dirty once that started. He told himself he’d stop his flirting. That went to shit the moment he saw Mr. Dennis the next day. Mr. Dennis wasn’t wearing one of his long-sleeved button ups and jeans, no, he was wearing a loose fitting T-shirt and basketball shorts. It made sense considering it had gone up fifteen degrees over night, but still unexpected. Even more unexpected was Dennis’s unstyled curls. Up until that point he had slicked back his hair, but along with his more relaxed outfit, his hair was also relaxed. He looked even more gorgeous like that. 

So without much thought, Mac started to tease him. And he had fun doing it. He liked seeing how Mr. Dennis had to tear his eyes away everytime Mac looked at him. He liked the lingering hand touches and the subconscious lick lipping. 

It made him feel good, no matter how bad he’d feel the moment his eye caught the sun’s reflection off Mr. Dennis’s wedding ring. No matter how many times he got home and went through the week and told himself like a mantra that he wouldn’t flirt anymore, he still did it. 

And it became worse. His ability to not flirt, that is. 

The first time he took off his shirt, he cursed himself for it. 

And then he winked at Mr. Dennis and somehow it was worse and better all at once. He felt justified for taking off his shirt when he saw the blush spread across Mr. Dennis’s cheeks, when he averted his eyes. He probably doesn’t think Mac saw it, but he saw Mr. Dennis adjust his pants. 

At the end of the day, Mr. Dennis gives him a hundred dollars. He keeps it because it helps him pay the bills, but he doesn’t feel good about it. 

Most of the time, he confesses his sins. He goes to the church and he kneels in the pews until his knees hurt and he keeps his hands clasped together until they’re sore and he repeats his sins until they don’t feel real. 

But the cycle repeats. 

***

He doesn’t let go of the water bottle. He can’t. At this point, it’d seem like a crime to do so. Pool Boy looks at him with wide, blown eyes. Their fingers are touching and while Dennis’s are soft, Pool Boy’s are rough and calloused. 

"I…” Dennis starts, then stops. He licks his lips and Pool Boy watches him as he does it. 

“Yeah,” Pool Boy says. 

Dennis hates that he’s hard. He has no reason to be hard. He’s been touching Pool Boy’s hand for weeks now, so what’s so different about this moment? 

Everything is different about this moment. 

Dennis leans in. Pool Boy lets him. Their eyes meet, then their lips. It’s sudden, but not surprising. He knew it was coming when he first looked at Pool Boy. He knew their relationship would build until it couldn’t anymore and then it’d snap and they’d be doing things that they shouldn’t be doing.

Dennis lets the water bottle fall to the ground and he wraps his arms around Pool Boy’s waist and pulls him closer. Pool Boy lets out a moan of surprise, but he falls into the gesture easily. Dennis knows he can feel his hard on through his shorts, but he doesn’t care. Let Pool Boy know how he feels. Besides, Pool Boy doesn’t pull back. In fact, he deepens the kiss, apparentally just as excited as Dennis is to do… whatever it is their doing. 

They’re gonna have sex, Dennis decides. 

He breaks the kiss and tugs on Pool Boy’s wrist. “Follow me,” he says, and Pool Boy does. 

They end up in one of the rooms in the guest house. Dennis is pretty sure he’s never even been to this part of the house, but Mandy had made sure all the bedrooms had beds when they bought the house. He thinks she hired some furnishing company, but he doesn’t remember. 

Once they enter the room, Pool Boy hestitates in the door. He looks nervous, he twiddles his thumbs and bites his lip. 

Honestly, he looks adorable.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Dennis? You’re married.” His eyes flick to Dennis’s wedding band, and suddenly the ring is burning his skin. He twists the ring off and throws it across the room to who-knows-where.

“Yes. I want to do this.” His lips meet Pool Boy’s again, slow and soft and chaste. Pool Boy returns the kiss. He lets go and rests his forehead on Pool Boy’s. “I haven’t loved Man–”

“I don’t want to know her name,” Pool Boy interrupts. 

“Okay. I haven’t loved her in years. I’m making this decision, not you. Don’t worry,” Dennis says, softly. Pool Boy relaxes and initiates the next kiss. All doubts seem to leave his mind after Dennis’s words and he pushes Dennis towards the bed, taking small steps until the back of Dennis’s knees hit the edge of the bed. He folds down on the bed and Mac climbs on top of him, kissing all the while. 

Dennis breaks apart to take off his shirt and scoot to the head board. He beckons Pool Boy back over to him with a hand gesture and Pool Boy happily scrambles back to lavish his body. Dennis thinks he’s going to come back to his lips, but, no, he goes to his neck and starts kissing and sucking on it, sending shivers down Dennis’s body. He can’t remember the last time he had sex, and he’s not sure it’s ever felt this electrifying before. 

He lets Pool Boy stay at his neck for a few seconds, but he doesn’t want any marks, so he gently pushes his head away and he captures his lips once Pool Boy looks at him to see what’s wrong. 

“No marks,” he whispers against Pool Boy’s lips. 

“Okay,” he responds. 

Dennis delicately kisses the side of Pool Boy’s mouth and absolutely melts when he feels Pool Boy let out a small puff of air, a quiet whine buried underneath. 

“How do you want to do this, baby boy?" 

"Maybe I could suck you off?" 

Dennis smiles, puts his hands on Pool Boy’s back, lets him feel the smooth skin. "Of course,” he says. 

He lets his hand float above his back as Pool Boy lowers himself down to Dennis’s crotch, taking breaks as he goes down to pay attention to Dennis’s bare chest. He’s careful to leave no marks, but the butterfly kisses are still enough to send Dennis’s stomach flipping. 

Pool Boy mouths over his hard cock, still in the basketball shorts. The only saving grace is he’s not wearing any underwear, but, still, he’s desperate to get the show on the road. His hips buck up a few inches and it makes Pool Boy dig his fingers into the curve of Dennis’s hips to help keep him still.

“C'mon, Mac,” Dennis whines. The name slips out. He doesn’t know where it comes from, or if it’s right, but, at the name, Pool Boy pulls down Dennis’s basketball shorts until they’re resting just under his cock, letting it spring out. 

Dennis decides Mac is the right name. He must have read it on some name tag or something. 

He ignores the fact that he knows Mac never wore a name tag. 

Mac takes Dennis’s cock in his hand and he keeps it in his fist as he takes his balls in his mouth. His other hand is back on Dennis’s hip and his fingertips are digging into the thin flesh there, and it starts to hurt, but Dennis doesn’t care. He had forgotten how good it feels to have a mouth on him, hot and wet and enthusiastic. 

It takes everything in him to not choke Mac with his cock. Absolutely everything. 

Soon enough, Mac takes his hand away from his shaft and begins to dig into his other hip just as hard, but Dennis still doesn’t care because now Mac’s mouth is on the tip of his cock. He kisses down it, starting on the head and going down until he reaches the base. Slowly, way too slowly, he starts to put the entire thing in his mouth. 

When he gets halfway down, Dennis groans out his name and he wraps his hands in Mac’s greasy hair and he tugs. He’s hestitant at first, but Mac doesn’t pull off and tell him to stop, so he takes it as a good sign. He helps ease Mac the rest of the way down until he’s deepthroating him and Mac must have had practice before because he’s doing it so smoothly. 

A flair of jealousy shoots through him as he thinks about all the other men Mac’s been with. He pushes Mac down farther until he’s almost choking, until Dennis can feel the back of his throat flexing against him, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt anything more satisfying. He holds him there for a moment, but then Mac’s grip on his hips tightens and he lets him go. Mac pulls off and starts to cough while taking deep breaths. There are tears in his eyes. 

Dennis expects to be yelled at, but it doesn’t come. Mac calms down and is right back on him and Dennis absolutely groans. 

Mac’s tongue can work wonders, Dennis learns. He doesn’t need to be deepthroated to feel this good. All he needs is Mac’s tongue. 

It isn’t long before his hips are twitching and his stomach is burning and he’s uttering a warning to Mac before Mac pulls off and lets Dennis cum over his face. Even as Dennis is finishing, Mac is licking his cock through the twitches, not caring where the cum is landing. 

When Dennis is coherent enough after his orgasm, he is pulling Mac’s face to his own and he’s kissing him as hard as he possibly can, teeth clacking together and his own cum spreading from Mac’s face to his as well. He doesn’t care. All he cares about is Mac tastes like him and he tastes amazing, especially off of Mac’s lips. 

“How do you want to finish, baby boy?” he whispers against Mac’s cheek, then licks a bit of the cum off there. He feels Mac shiver. 

“Just touch me, Mr. Dennis." 

Mac calling him Mr. Dennis while still covered in his release sends his stomach rolling. 

Mac has been rolling his hips across Dennis’s thigh this whole time, desperately searching for friction, but Dennis calmly tells him to stop and rubs his back in comfort. Mac whimpers, but does as he’s told. 

"So good for me,” Dennis mumbles. 

“Good for you,” Mac repeats. 

Dennis grips Mac’s ass cheeks through his pants, then he brings his hands back up and gently pulls his pants down past his ass. He doesn’t care to take them fully off in the same way Mac didn’t care to get his off. 

Besides, he was right about Mac not wearing underwear. It makes it all easier. 

He’s quick to get Mac’s cock in his hand, doesn’t daddle before he’s rubbing his hot palm in circles over the head. Mac is much noisier than he was and much more desperate, apparentally getting off just by pleasuring Dennis. 

That’s hot. 

It doesn’t take much finesse to get Mac to finish all over Dennis’s stomach. His body jerks and he moans and he holds himself up with shaky muscles. 

When he’s done, he collapses, his head on Dennis’s chest. He’s breathing heavily, but so is Dennis. The air is hot and reeks of sex. They’re both covered in sweat. 

Dennis cards his hands back into Mac’s hair and he starts to play with it. Mac relaxes into the touch, letting a sigh come out. 

They’re quiet for a long time and Mac is almost asleep when Dennis speaks up. 

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. There’s no toiletries, but we can at least wash off." 

"Mhm,” Mac responds against his chest. 

***

Mac leaves and confesses his sins right after.

Mandy sees the bruises on Dennis’s hips but says nothing about it.

Dennis waits for the next time Pool Boy comes over.

[shapeshiftinterest]

The Sheriff's Department Prepares to Celebrate Winterfest at the Request of One (1) Adorabat

mao mao heroes of pure heart Christmas gift exchange

for @redstreakfox

wish list: When Adorabat announces she made a Christmas decoration during crafts at school featuring the three of them, BC and Mao reveal they haven’t celebrated Christmas in a long time due to traveling so much before Pure Heart Valley. Adorabat really wants to celebrate with them and so they set out to Farmer Buns farm to find the perfect tree for Sheriff HQ. 

________________________________________________________________

story under the read more

The Sheriff's Department Prepares to Celebrate Winterfest at the Request of One (1) Adorabat (also on AO3)

"mmmaoo... mmmaooo... mmm so legendary heheheh... " Mao mumbled stretching out a little before curling back into a ball on top of Badgerclops’ stomach, rising and falling with every breath of his cohero.

The sun was shining, the outside was snowing, and the two were napping comfortably on the couch after their most recent tussle with the skypirates. perfect conditions for a relaxing afternoon.

*BANG!*

Until the front door slammed open.

"SUP Y’ALL I’M BACK!" Adorabat screeched, scuttling into the room. Badgerclops jolted, accidentally shoving a flailing Mao onto the floor.

"Hwuh? – oh hey ‘dorabat," he yawned "how was skewl?"

Adorabat closed the door behind her and flew over to sit on the couch arm near Badgerclops’ head.

"It was great! We made winterfest ornaments. This one’s mine, see?’ she said, shoving a popsicle framed picture into his face. Badgerclops took the ornament and sat up, scooching over to make room for Mao. It was a simple crayon drawing of the 3 of them holding hands with Adorabat in the middle.

"Wonderful work Adorabat" said Mao. She beamed and flapped her wings to settle on Badgerclops’ shoulder.

"so when are we gonna hang it on the tree?" Adorabat asked, bouncing in place excitedly. Badgerclops and Mao shared an awkward look.

"Oh, uh, hhmmm. I don’t think I’ve celebrated winterfest in like, a while. Me n the Thicket Thieves weren’t really all that close y’know?"

Mao touched his chin, contemplating. "Now that you mention it, I haven’t celebrated it much either. Not since...’ [bao bao flashback]. He shook his head.

"Didn’t yall ever celebrate it together?"

"I guess we were traveling so much before coming to pureheart valley that we forgot." Badgerclops rubbed the back of his head. "But we’ll definitely celebrate it with you starting this year!" he reassured.

"Ye-yeah!" Mao chimed in, ruffling her head "We can’t let all your hard work go to waste now can we? haha"

Mao stood up, hands on his hips. "First things first, we should get a tree so we can hang your ornament Adorabat"

                                                      __________

"Dude, do we really have to get one of THESE trees?"

"Of course!" Mao exclaimed, sizing up the surrounding pines before heading for the tallest one "Bigger is better when it comes to Winterfest trees after all"

"Ok but I’M the one who has to carry it back, besides," Badgerclops scanned the tree his friend was getting ready to cut down "this one’s too big, it won’t fit in the house"

"Nonsense Badgerclops,’ Mao said, felling the massive pine with one swipe of Geraldine "it's the perfect size"

"But-"

"We’re not even that far from HQ," Mao made his way to the base of the tree, digging his claws into the wood and pulling. "Now come on and *grunt* help me drag this bad boy *HHHHRRRAAAAAHHH* to the aerocycle"

"Actually, my dear sheriff- oof!" Mao whirled around, only to run into a solid chest and get a face full of impeccably groomed fur.

"QUINTON!!" Mao suddenly found himself standing next to his deputies.

"Mmmwhere was I? Ah yes~ unfortunately for you, my dear sheriff, only pureheart valley farmers have jurisdiction to cut pine trees during Winterfest season"

"Wha-"

"So we’ll be confiscating this one, ah-ha~. QUINTON!!" the king yelled.

"Wait, your grace-"

"Ta ta~‘ The king winked and blew a kiss to the sheriff’s department as he and quinton disappeared into the underground tunnels, taking the tree with them.

Mao, Badgerclops and Adorabat stared at the spot in disbelief.

"Soooooo, Farmer Buns?‘ Adorabat piped from Badgerclops’ shoulder

‘yeah ok‘

Badgerclops picked up a stunned Mao and the trio made their way over to the aerocycle.

                                                      __________

"heheheheheheh!"

"PINKY YOU SLIPPERY BASTARD GET BACK HE- WHOA!", Mao slipped on a patch of ice, crashing into some of the ready cut winterfest trees as a mayonnaise covered pinky literally slipped out of his grasp.

"nyeh nyeh can't catch me hahahaha"

"What the heck Pinky, WE were gonna get that tree‘ Badgerclops said, rounding a corner and shooting nets from his robo arm rapid fire. Pinky continued to dodge them as he made his way to Farmer Bun, tree tag number in hand.

"Finders keepers losers weep- GAH!" Pinky yelled, getting a face full of smoke.

"Smoke bomb! smoke bomb!"

Mao swiped the number from Pinkys oily grasp "HA HA got it! Ok Yall lets go buy our tree" he said, already marching over, friends in tow and money in paw.

                                                      __________

…

‘WE FORGOT THE TREE!!‘ Adorabat screeched.

‘HANG ON YALL’ Mao made a sharp U-turn as Adorabat slammed the turbo boost button, the 3 of them screaming all the way back to the farm.

                                                      __________

Badgerclops poked his head out of the kitchen, spatula hand switching back to normal as he walked into the living room where Mao and Adorabat were making more ornaments.

"Hey guys, snacks are done" Badgerclops said, careful not to crush any of the drawings or origami decorations that littered the floor before sitting down next to Mao and putting the plate on the table.

"COOKIES!!" Adorabat let go of a jar of glitter and hopped onto the table, taking 2 of the still hot cookies and shoving one into her mouth "Ohm nom nom nom nom nom"

"Adorabat be careful, you could burn yourself"

"Here ya go lil dude" Badgerclops reeled his robo arm in, holding a tray with 3 cups of milk and sliding one of them towards Adorabat.

"Thabnk ou!' said Adorabat, cheeks puffed.

"And one for m‘ Mao Mao"

Mao tossed the finished origami star into the large pile at his right before accepting his lucky ducky mug.

"Thanks Badgerclops. I think we're almost done with the rest of the decorations," Mao bit into a cookie, looking at the tree in the corner of the room with Adorabat’s skewl ornament sitting proudly in the top branches "we can probably put them up in the morning, or maybe after second patrol. What do you think Adorabat?"

"Afternoon please! I wanna take my time and make sure it looks nice"

"Afternoon it is"

"Yall wanna watch the new soap opera episode? It's a winterfest themed one~" Badgerclops asked, already turning the TV on and channel surfing.

"Oh yeah!!" Adorabat circled the air above his head before landing on the middle cushion. Mao stood up and stretched, cracking what sounded like every bone in his body. Moving to sit on her right, he unfolded the large blanket from the back of the couch before putting it on their laps.

2 hours later the whole sheriff’s department was asleep.

Mao’s head was resting on Badgerclops’ shoulder, and Adorabat had somehow wiggled her way onto Mao mao’s lap, her head pillowed by Badgerclops’ thigh. The blanket was starting to fall to the floor as a Winterfest jingle played from the TV.

[lovelylogans]

,,,,can I get some opinions on lorelai, specifically Lorelai's Love Interests?

*cracks knuckles*

i just answered an ask about rory’s main love interests but now i’m gonna go into lorelai’s

quick disclaimer: i have seen s1-s5, read scripts of key episodes of s6/s7. so. let’s get into it.

jason:

jason is literally trash lmao and i Dislike Him. least favorite of lorelai’s love interests. garbage man. if men have one thing it’s the Audacity.

okay first of all his whole introduction to canon was that he wanted to leave the business his dad groomed him for..... to piss off his dad. like. that’s his reasoning. that’s why he wants to go into business with richard. literally just to piss off his dad. Sir You Are Nearly Forty.

and then. and THEN. like his FIRST scene!!!! with lorelai!!!!! is when lorelai is like “hey you shouldn’t have gone behind my mom’s back and planned this business trip when she was planning a party! that’s kinda shitty of you!” and his response was to REMINISCE about their time at summer camp and he’s like “you still hold a grudge” because. BE. CAUSE. he stood up and tipped over the canoe when lorelai was fully clothed, and when lorelai pointed this out, this man. has the AUDACITY. to say. “i remember. green t-shirt, no bra. trust me, i was the hero of cabin five for the rest of the summer.”

GROSS. GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS. FUCK MEN. as if THAT isn’t gross enough he came up with the nickname “umlauts” because her nipples were showing through her shirt!!! diSGUSTIN!! men! are! nasty! and literally less than TEN one-sentence lines later he ASKS HER OUT.  

and then literally the rest of his character is basically just “business.” like. that’s it. when he takes the day off to come to stars hollow literally almost the Entire Time he’s focused on business calls and not on lorelai, his girlfriend who he came to spend time with. and then when richard, being a Shady Bitch, double-crossed him and went back into business with his dad, jason wanted to SUE HIM??? BRO???????? YOU STILL EXPECTED LORELAI TO STICK WITH YOU WHEN YOU ARE SUING HER FATHER?????????

this doesn’t even go INTO all the other stuff about hidden relationship and they’re literally dating just bc it pisses off their parents, it’s just. jason sucks. dude sucks. don’t like him. not one bit.

christopher:

i have..... complicated feelings toward christopher. to steal a quote i saw from twitter when someone was like “he knows lorelai so deeply!” they said “he knows her past, it doesn’t mean he knows her.”

so, like, on one level. i think that christopher was a bad dad to rory. right. like, he isn’t a good dad. i come from a home with split up parents, so, like, i understand the complexities there, but. he wasn’t a good dad. he just wasn’t.

that episode in season one? it’s the first time he comes to stars hollow. the. first. time. in sixteen years he has never gone to see where his daughter (and friend/romantic interest) lived, which follows: he hasn’t been to any of her parent/teacher nights, he’s never gone to any of the performances she was in as a child, he’s never participated with her when it comes to town events that she’s so passionate about (being a pilgrim, all the things taylor lists when she turns down being ice cream queen, etc) he wasn’t there. he wasn’t there for all the small moments that make up being a dad. no helping with homework, no sitting with her and listening after a long day, no actual parenting—no being there when she’s sick, no disciplining her if she does something wrong, no being there to celebrate her victories. he isn’t a good dad to rory. he has his occasional moments (he starts calling her more often post that visit, but it drops off again post-sherry) but all in all? not a good dad. i would go far as to say “deadbeat dad” as the first significant financial help he offers, that we see in canon, is him paying for yale. not helping with chilton, or any other childcare costs.

that’s an important factor when it comes to evaluating him and lorelai. because, quite honestly? i think that if rory didn’t exist, christopher and lorelai would have been firmly in the realm of “we dated in high school.” maybe a former flame that gets a fling when there’s a high school reunion. but since rory exists, they’re tied together forever, and therefore those feelings keep cropping up and flourishing (esp in situations when they shouldn’t) and they’re so stuck in the past.

i think that teenage christopher and teenage lorelai are well suited. i don’t think adult christopher and adult lorelai are well suited. lorelai had to grow up very quickly when she had rory, so she got a job, settled down in stars hollow, and put in the work of being a responsible parent who provides for her child. christopher doesn’t start keeping a job until s2/s3, he’s still very much stuck in the past. his pursuit of her is almost entirely rooted in nostalgia, as is her returning interest. they keep coming back to each other because it’s comfortable, it’s what they know. but once they look past that lens of nostalgia, their compatibility kind of falls apart. christopher is still immature in general (getting angry over the character reference she writes for luke, getting drunk at emily and richard’s vow renewal and basically shoving himself in the middle of their relationship like “but THE OOOOOLD DAAAAYYYS” and that WHOLE storyline of where he turned off his phone and ignored lorelai’s calls when richard had a heart attack, do NOT get me started) and lorelai is very independent and she likes her life where it is and how it is.

so to sum up: christopher and lorelai’s relationship is almost entirely doomed to fail because they can’t remove their rose-colored glasses when it comes to their (mutually romanticized) past together, and when the glasses are knocked off, they aren’t compatible. they just aren’t. what ties them together is that nostalgia, where they’re most natural is when they’re joking and being friendly (like the old times!) and when it turns into a romantic relationship, reality is too much for that tenuous connection to handle.

luke:

OBVIOUSLY i am team luke. this is the ship i’m most dedicated to within the gilmore girls fandom. he’s there for her, they push each other to become better (lorelai keeping his father’s boat, for example, and him encouraging her throughout the opening of the dragonfly) they have that Longing and Yearning. they have amazing chemistry, they’ve been crushing on each other since SEASON! ONE! and honestly they are fantastic when they work together.

i will say that they have their issues, and it almost entirely boils down to lack of communication.

if lorelai had communicated the occasions in which she had seen chris, luke wouldn’t have been so caught off-guard at the vow renewal and cut off their relationship. if luke had communicated about april’s existence with the full honesty that he didn’t know about her existence, lorelai, as a mother, as someone whose child’s default father figure is luke, would probably take some time but ultimately understand the importance of a child. they should have communicated about the wedding being too soon, and all their other issues. that bickering that makes their flirting and crushing so great also gets in their way sometimes; it’s hard for them to have a serious conversation without lorelai deflecting or luke shutting down. honestly i think it would have been great if they’d gone to couples therapy (okay, look, almost everyone in gilmore girls needs therapy, including emily and lorelai, so i’m glad that at least that one got tackled somewhere in canon) and it would have really helped fix that main problem.

frankly, i think a lot of their problems are bc ASP and the other writers wanted “drama.” which fair, it’s a tv show, but frankly leave the drama to rory and there are other ways to manufacture drama other than breaking up your main couple: dragonfly drama, for instance, or liz and tj and jess, or dealing with rory’s dramas, or something like the emily and richard and luke drama but sustained to a point where it causes a similar family fight that might have even paralleled lorelai leaving the gilmore household for someone she loves, and seeing that relationship knit up. like i get this show was in the 2000s but honestly let the couples actually Be Together!!! let them explore those dynamics!!! the whole “break them up, put them back together, break them up, put them back together” thing is tired and it seems unrealistic. like!!!! luke says “i’m all in” to lorelai and less than like TEN episodes later he’s like “it’s too much. this relationship is too much.” LET THEM WORK THROUGH THEIR STRUGGLES AS A COUPLE AND LET THEM C O M M U N I C A T E. LET THEM!!!!!

otherwise? iconique. the Flavor. the taste. the vibes are immaculate. chef’s kiss. luke/lorelai is So Good. their chemistry is unparalleled. their support of each other unmatched. 

i can’t really remember any other love interests lmao OH SHOOT

max medina:

lol forgettable uh, i think that he and lorelai had an interesting partnership, but it clearly wouldn’t have worked out to the point of a wedding, which i feel like lorelai knew because she kept holding back on actually answering him for the proposal after the s1 finale. i think that his dynamic could have also really been utilized to play with the dynamic of lorelai re-entering her parents’ world and the different expectations that that maintains; i don’t think it should have gone so far to, like, proposal, i think it could have been maintained then max wanted to get serious and lorelai hesitates and pulls something similar to the show. anyway, interesting first love interest for lorelai, also helps ground the world of chilton, so nice little twofold purpose for max there

i will say his proposal was super cute tho the thousand yellow daisies thing was Excellent

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 25 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 25

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

Check out my Patreon for more chapters! (And to help me pay for the antibiotic that I need...)

May 10th, 1986

(Y/n) held Bret’s hand as they headed towards Tommy and Heather’s wedding. Heather had asked her to a bridesmaid, but when she found out who was the best man, she had declined. They pulled up at the venue, (Y/n) taking a deep breath.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bret asked her and kissed her hand.

“I’m okay. Just a little weary of a couple of the guests hating my guts.” She told him. “But it’s my brothers big day. I probably only have five more of these to sit through for him.” She laughed a little, relaxing when she saw him smile at her joke. He was bubbly and light where Nikki was more dark and rough. He was everything Nikki wasn’t. But god, she missed Nikki.

"How can anyone hate sick a sweet person like you?" Bret asked as he pulled her in for a kiss. She moaned as he deepened it.

“Babe, we won’t make the wedding if we keep this up.” (Y/n) laughed.

"Who says we can't be fashionably late?" He teased as he pulled her tighter. She could’ve sworn she felt someone watching them as they kissed, but she melted into Bret’s embrace anyway.

“We’ll have plenty of time for this at the hotel afterwards.” (Y/n) winked at him. “Ready?”

"Let's go," her said and led her inside.

Nikki clenched his fist. She had moved on. Of course she did. He told himself, she was gorgeous and well adjusted. He, on the other hand, was a mess. The way she kissed he new boyfriend reminded him of the way she kissed him when they were together. He got the feeling again, he needed to feel numb. He looked at the song in his pocket and threw it in the floor. Quickly going inside her find a good spot to get high.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Tommy asked as he was stretched out on the couch in the grooms room a little bit later. “This is Heather’s and my big day! I don’t want you to ruin it for her!”

"Like I ruined (Y/n)," he muttered.

“It’s been months Nik.” Vince sighed. He knew Vanessa was there with her boyfriend, and it hurt like hell. But he was just drinking, not shooting up every chance he got.

“Look, I’m sorry things worked out bad for you two, but we don’t have time for this.” Tommy sighed. “Now are you gonna man up and be there with me, or do I need to ask someone else?”

“I got ya drummer.” Mick said, pushing himself up.

“I got this!” Nikki said, tripping over the table. Tommy stared down at Nikki, shaking his head.

“You were almost my brother-in-law.” He mumbled. “Maybe it was a good thing it didn’t happen.” He turned and walked out of the room. He knew those words had to sting, but he really didn’t care.

****

Nikki could barely stand the whole ceremony. He was sure he looked awful in the wedding pictures, but he didn’t care. They moved right into the reception afterwards. Everyone started to dance after Heather and Tommy did. Heather tossed her bouquet, which ended up in (Y/n)’s hands. Vanessa, Athena, and Heather all cheered for her. Nikki stood off to the side, watching them. He could see the new tattoo proudly under her backless dress. Angel wings, full and fluffy. He could also see that blond devil wrapping his arm around her waist and planting a big kiss on her lips.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer.” Vanessa said to him.

"Won't make a difference," Nikki muttered as he drowned himself in Jack.

“You know she still loves you, right?” Vanessa told him. “You broke her heart though.”

"What do I do?" He asked. "What can I do?"

"Getting clean would be a start," Vanessa sighed. "But knowing you… It's a long shot." Vanessa grabbed her drinks and walked back too John who was waiting for her. (Y/n) went to the bar to get a drink. Nikki looked over at her. He wanted to say something, anything. But his mind was blank what could he say. Shaking his head he turned around and walked away.

Tommy walked over to his sister after Nikki left. (Y/n) leaned on the bar, waiting for her drink. Tommy leaned against it, watching her.

"So, Bret is a nice guy," he said to her. "He make you happy?" (Y/n) got her drink and raised it to her lips.

"Yeah…" she got her drink took a sip. "How mad were you when you heard I left Elektra?" They hadn’t talked a whole lot since everything went down, mainly communicating through Heather and Athena.

"I almost punched Tom's lights out." He sighed, "I'm still pissed at Nikki. I should have forced him to stay away from you."

"I'm sorry about everything." She whispered  looking down.

"Hey," he said. "No crying on my wedding day." He said and hugged her. "Love you little sis."

"Love you t-bone." She hugged him but saw Nikki. "I wish I could ask him to dance."

"Not sure how he will take it," Tommy growled. "I don't know why I asked him to be my best man. But, he's still my best friend when he's not moping" Tommy sighed.

"He'll be ok." She smiled at Tommy. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She downed her drink before she made her way over to Nikki. "Hi…"

"Oh, hey," Nikki tried to act sober. "You look good." That wasn't a lie. She did look good to him. He couldn't tell if the drugs were making his heart race or if she was.

"Would you like to dance with me?" She asked quietly.

“You sure blondie won’t come here and deck me,” Nikki looked over at Bret and sighed. He was sitting at a table, eating a piece of cake while he waited on her. She seemed happy with him and he was trying not to ruin it.

"He'll be ok." She smiled softly at him. "Unless you don't want to…" she turned to walk away. Nikki took her hand in his and felt that small jolt of electricity he did when he first touched her,

“No… I can dance,” he led her to the dance floor stumbling a bit.

"Are you ok?" She asked as he pulled her close to him.

“Honestly… no… but… it’s nice being with you right now,” he muttered. He wasn't sure what he was saying. He was pretty sure he was hallucinating because of the drugs. She was pressed up against his chest and he could smell her hair.

"I miss you." She admitted to him. "I…" she sighed as the song ended. She wanted to tell him she still loved him, that she wanted him back, but his lack of talking made her change her mind. "I guess I better let you go silly boy." She let go of him. “Bye Nikki.”

She left him standing in the middle of the floor as she want back to Bret, “I miss you too sweet girl,” he whispered before going off again to get high.

****

Nikki sighed as he frowned at the girls that came by him. Vince sat at a chair opposite him.

“What’s wrong man?” he looked up at the girl he had in his lap. He sighed as she reminded him of Vanessa. He always seemed to pick girls that reminded him of her.

“They just don’t look right to me man,” Nikki sighed.  

“What kind of girl are you looking for?” Vince asked, knowing exactly who he was looking for. Because he was looking for his own Vanessa out there.

"I just… I have a type in mind." He sighed as he took a shot and snorted the blow in the table. He looked at Vince. "Man I need something more."

“Well, what about her?” He asked, pointing to a girl carrying drinks. She had short brown hair and innocent eyes. Much like a college student Nikki had fallen in love with. While she didn’t look exactly like the girl of his dreams, she was pretty close.

"Yeah, I guess," Nikki let the euphoria fill him as the drugs kicked in. He wasn't sure what he had in his system but he just needed her. He took her to his room for the night, but something wasn’t right. She didn’t have the right tattoos and it was ruining the illusion.

"Hey, you ok?"

Even her voice sounded wrong. It grated his ears. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine his (Y/n). His sweet girl, whose voice was like a song. He pounded into the random chick but nothing too it. All he could think of was the letter she left and the ring on his bass.

When he was done, he kicked the girl out. He looked at the phone in the room. He only knew the one number for her, and he wasn’t sure if she had it transferred somewhere. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was. He should’ve fought for her at the wedding. But he didn’t. And now he was alone in an empty room with his thoughts and his drugs.

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

Motley Crue Tags:  @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @livingdeadharley @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva

Nikki Sixx Tags: @daisystuffsstuff @unknownoblivion

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags:  @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12 @shawnsstxtches @knockemdeadgirl

[bumper-boi]

My Favorite Color Is You Part 2

Author’s Note: I got an ask saying they wanted a sequel, so sequel I wrote! Word Count: 1865 Pairing(s): Tyrus, background Ambi, Muffy, Wonah Genre(s): Fluff Trigger Warning(s): N/A You can find the last part here: https://cxrus-kippen.tumblr.com/post/182716221615/my-favorite-color-is-you-part-1 ——— Tj opened the box, staring at the ring that sat inside, sparkling brightly. The silver band with the engraving, ‘To My Muffin’ holds a deep blue gem, bigger than Tj’s bank account would prefer. He heard walking down the stairs to the living room he shared with his boyfriend, hopefully soon-to-be-fiancé Cyrus. He snapped the small black box shut, shoving it in his pocket quickly. “What’cha doing there?” Cyrus asked, giving his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Nothing!” Tj said quickly. “Okay… Should I make dinner tonight? Or do you want to?” Cyrus said, flopping onto the couch next to Tj. “I actually wanted to take you out to dinner tonight! I set up a reservation at Cheź Gote.” “Oh really? What time?” “7:30 pm,” Tj said with a smile, thinking back to all the meticulous planning of this night. “I’ll be ready by 7:00.” ——— Tj’s heart raced as he sat with Cyrus at dinner, laughing lightly at some remark Cyrus made. “So Teej, how has work been lately?” Cyrus asked, staring into Tj’s eyes fondly. “Same old, same old. The students still want to meet you. They desperately want to know the guy who makes me this happy.” “Aww Teej! I would love to meet your students! What about on Wednesday? I don’t have any appointments lined up so I can totally come in,” Cyrus said with a smile. “Great! I’ll tell them you are going to be there!” The two started sitting in comfortable silence, waiting for their food to arrive. Once it did, they continued to eat in silence, only making small comments about how good the food was. They got to dessert, Tj eating ice cream, Cyrus eating lava cake. They let each other take bites of their dessert. Eventually, they paid the check and left. “Want to go somewhere? I already have a place I would love to take you. It will be quick, I promise,” Tj said, thinking of the perfect place to propose. “Sure, where?” Cyrus asked, smiling. “You’ll find out,” Tj said smugly. He drove them to Jefferson Middle School. The school Tj and Cyrus had gone to many years ago. The school where they first met. The school where they fell in love. “Why are we here?” Cyrus said, staring at the familiar sign proudly displaying the school’s name. “I wanted to see what they did to our swingset.” “Oh,then let’s park and head to the park where it is!” They made their way to the swingset that had long since been replaced with a newer version, and they sat down, swinging slowly. ‘Now or never, Tj,’ Tj thought, standing up. “Teej?” “Cyrus, I need to do this before I lose the confidence. I have planned this for months, and Andi and Buffy may have helped a tad. I love you, and you can probably see where I’m going with this, but anyway,” he lowered onto his knee, taking the ring out, “I want to marry you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?” Cyrus pressed a hand to his mouth, tears falling quickly. He nodded, standing up quickly to hug Tj, “Yes! I would love to marry you Tj!” He said as they hugged. When they separated, Tj kissed Cyrus passionately. He grabbed Cyrus’ hand, slowly sliding the beautiful ring onto his finger. Cyrus stared at the ring, noticing the engraving on the band. “To My Muffin,” He said, smiling wide, “Tj. I love you.” “I love you, too.” ——— Wedding planning was in full swing. They had picked a venue, a cake, even their tuxes! Cyrus was very efficient, and managed to keep their plans on track, which Tj was very thankful for. It took him forty minutes to decide on a color for tablecloths(eventually going with blue, Cyrus’ favorite color), and another twenty for the theme of the centerpiece(simple white roses). He had finally managed to pick a best man, though he had a lot if trouble doing it. Now it was just time to tell Cyrus who he picked. “Babe! I picked a best man!” Tj yelled to his fiancé. “Finally!” Cyrus yelled back as he ran down the stairs, arms full with a stack of papers, “Who did you pick?” “I want your approval on this, but I wanted to ask Buffy to be my best man.” Cyrus squealed, dropping the papers he was holding, “Tj that is the best idea ever! We need to call Buffy and get her over here so we can tell her!” “You really think she would want to?” “Definitely. And if she doesn’t I’ll make her.” ——— Buffy arrived twenty minutes after their brief phone call. She had just come from work, still in her pantsuit that she had worn to the firm that day. “Hey what’s up?” She asked as she stepped inside, fixing the top-knot bun she was sporting. “I have an important question to ask you,” Tj said, standing up to face her. “Yes?” “Will you be my best man?” “But I’m not a man?” “That never stopped you.” Buffy smiled at the sentiment, looking to Cyrus, who was nodding frantically. She looked back to Tj, shrugged, and said, “What the hell? Sure, I’ll be your best man.” Tj hugged Buffy, who groaned, though quickly returned the hug. “Thank you,” Tj said, letting go of Buffy. “No problem. What are fiancé’s best friends for?” She said with a laugh, “Do you guys need me for anything else? Marty said he had a surprise planned for me.” “No, that was all. Go be with your boyfriend!” Cyrus said, hugging Buffy before she left. ——— Tj stood at the altar, wearing a traditional black tux, waiting for the wedding procession to walk down the aisle. Andi made her way down, arm linked with Amber. They parted once they got to the end, Andi moving to Cyrus’ side, Amber to Tj’s. Next, Jonah and Buffy walked down the aisle, copying what Andi and Amber did. Finally, Cyrus stepped out, arms linked with both his parents, wearing a deep blue tux, one much like the one he wore to his bar mitzvah. Tj gasped, then smiled wide. Cyrus smiled back, as “Here Comes The Bride” played over the speakers. He walked slowly with his parents, eyes wet with tears. He made it to the altar, eyes locked with Tj, who was also close to tears. Cyrus’ father shook Tj’s hand, just before handing Cyrus off to him. Tj smiled at Cyrus, then mouthed, “I love you.” Cyrus mouthed, “I love you, too.” ——— Tj pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it nervously. He looked up at Cyrus, starting to speak shakily, “Cyrus, from the moment we met, I knew there was something about you. I saw you, a boy who couldn’t even get a muffin, and I was in love. On the swings, when I told you about ‘my stuff’ I fell harder. Everytime I would talk to you I would fall harder. I had been planning my proposal since basically the day we got together. I had my first kiss on that bench all those years ago with you. I knew I loved you from day one. Underdog, I love you so much. I promise to give you all the love you deserve, though you deserve way better than me. I should probably finish soon, so all I’m saying is I love you, and I hope you feel the same.” “Tj,” Cyrus said slowly, crying, “I love you so much. Anyway, my turn! Tj, I love you. I constantly wonder how I managed to be this lucky, how I got with you. For a long time, I wasn’t even comfortable saying that I was gay. I now know that being around you has made me so much more comfortable being myself, and I thank you so much. I love you so, so much. My vows could never compare to yours, so I guess I vow to never stop loving you and helping you to become a better person, just like you have done to me.” ——— “Do you, Tyronius Jackson Kippen, take Cyrus Goodman to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Do you, Cyrus Goodman, take Tyronius Jackson Kippen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “You may now kiss the groom.” Tj quickly pulled Cyrus into a kiss. The crowd cheered loudly, applauding quickly. ——— Cyrus held Tj’s hand, stepping on the cloth bag, hearing the sound of the glass inside breaking. Everyone cheered again, some people standing to congratulate to couple. “You better not fuck this up, Kippen,” Buffy said from behind Tj, making him jump. “Oh wow thanks,” He said jokingly, turning to face her. “Just, please don’t hurt him? Please?” Buffy said seriously, clapping him on the shoulder. “I promise not to hurt him. I really love him.” “I know.” ——— The reception went by quickly, everything blurring together due to all the congratulations and things they received. Cyrus walked up behind Tj, turning him around to kiss him lightly, “Hey,” He said as they parted. “Hey.” “Congrats to the happy couple!” Buffy said casually as she hugged Cyrus. “Thank you Buffy!” “Speaking of happy couples,” Buffy said, looking to the ground as she grabbed Marty’s hand, “Marty and I got engaged!” She shoved her hand into Cyrus’ face, which was sporting three blood red diamonds on an intricate, dark grey band. “Wait really? Buffy I’m so happy for you!” Cyrus said as he pulled Buffy into a hug. “Did you tell him the news?” Andi asked, walking up in the middle of their hug. “Yeah! I’m so happy for them!” Cyrus said. “Me too!” Andi responded. “Andi and Cyrus, I want you two to be my maid of honor and my man of honor! Would you do me the honor?” “Of course!” Andi and Cyrus said in unison. “Hey Tj?” Marty said from next to Buffy. “Yeah?” Tj asked while putting his arm around Cyrus. “This may seem like a random thing to ask, since we barely talk, but I really don’t know who else I would ask, so will you be my best man?” “Sure, I’ll be your best man. It can be a ‘You’re Welcome’ for Buffy being mine!” “Thanks dude!” “No problem!” ——— Cyrus danced with Tj to some pop song that no one knew the words to, but was singing anyway, as his friends all danced at his side. The music changed into a slow song, people starting to move from the dance floor, or pair up with their significant others. Tj grabbed Cyrus, who looked to his sides to see his friends all pairing up. Andi giggling as Amber peppered kisses around her face while they swayed to the song, Buffy taking the lead over Marty, who was blushing and laughing at her taking charge, and Jonah setting his head on Walker’s shoulder, closing his eyes, smiling while they slowly danced. Cyrus looked back up into Tj’s eyes, who was looking back at him. He smiled, leaning up quickly to kiss his husband. When they pulled away, Tj grinned, “So, when’s the honeymoon?” “Tj!”

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 18

This isn't 100% ready and I know it but I've got a lot of work coming up so I'm releasing it into the wild anyway. Slightly more upbeat than the last chapter, but there's still much to resolve. Which will happen in a timely fashion, meaning not a million chapters to go. Typos abound, I will fix later.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

////////////////////////////////

“Hey Claud, I’m coming up. Text me or something if you’re there, ok?” Myka pushes through the front doors and stands inside, waiting for a reply. She smiles at the front desk guy, then looks down at her phone. Nothing yet, just like every other message she’s left this week.

“Hey Doug, you seen Claudia today?”

“Uh-uh,” the front desk guy says. "First shift back from vacation. Want me to ask Tony?” He picks up his walkie-talkie.

“That’s ok, I’ll just go up,” Myka says, scuttling past him as the elevator doors open. Two people step out as she walks in. She taps the button for Claudia’s floor and checks her phone again. No new message, but she really needs her stuff.

Claudia should be home as it’s late for a school night...but wait, it’s not, it’s Friday already. Maybe they're eating out or at a movie, or watching a movie at home. Or maybe Claudia's so miffed she won’t pick up the phone.

Claudia's police station antics are still a conundrum, they could have been for show or totally sincere. She has no clue what Helena told her as after the group interview, she didn’t see either of them again. If she could have talked to them before she left, she'd feel more confident moving forward.

Claudia’s buzzer rings and rings, so she waits for a beat then knocks twice. She tries her key card and the indicator glows green, thankfully, as she was worried Claudia already changed the code. Dewy whooshes out the instant the door opens. She drops her bag and rushes after him.

“You don’t want to go down there,” she says, scooping him up near the stairs, holding on tightly as he squirms. She wedges her foot in the door and pushes it open then crouches down to pick up her bag. Dewy wriggles free, but she blocks his second escape, swinging her bag to shoo him in.

“Claudia? Christina?” she calls and waits for a reply then pokes her head into bedrooms and the terrace.

“Where’s your moms?” she says to Dewy as he rubs up against her leg. He's purring so loudly she can hear him clearly. She glances his bowl, it’s empty. He must be hungry.

“Let's get you some dinner, mister,” she says and walks into the kitchen. Its surfaces are oddly clean, but the cat food cabinet is its usual mess. She sets a bag on the counter then grabs Dewy’s bowl to give it a good cleaning. The sink is devoid of dishes, which highly unusual as they often linger for days. She checks the fridge, it's also sparse, but maybe Claudia hasn’t gone shopping. That's not as unusual as an empty sink.

Myka snaps back to her task as Dewy mews plaintively. He hops up on the counter as she opens the bag of food. “Dewy, chill!” Myka says and swipes him to the floor. He’s way more anxious than usual.

She strokes his head as he eats and rubs behind his ears, his purrs vibrating so vigorously they travel up her fingers. Such good cat, she thinks, so good-natured, and mostly well behaved. We’re lucky to have him, even if he is a little dumb.

She looks across the living room at her corner, then traipses across and into the space. There's far too much stuff to take in one go, so she starts plucking out what she needs for now.

A picture of Helena hangs on the wall but a corner has popped free and it flaps to and fro. She peels it off and drags a finger over Helena’s likeness, then sits on the bed, drinking in Helena’s warm smile.

“Would it be bad for you if I see them? I want to know if they’re ok, but I don’t want mess this up for any of us.” Second guessing her movements is already difficult. Subterfuge isn’t her strong point.

Dewy bounds into the room and jumps on the bed. He sits on his hindquarters and chirp-mews at her insistently.

“What do you want?” Myka asks as he smushes his head against her side, then drags his body back and forth. She rubs his head again and sighs, then swings her legs onto the bed. It's ok to say for a few minutes longer than needed, so she lies down.

“You’re lucky, Dewy. You can't fall in love. At least not the way humans do.” She holds the photo up in front of her, what a lovely day that was, laughing and lounging at the beach. Her heart swells, she really does love Helena more than she ever imagined possible.

Dewy headbutts her cheek then abruptly flops on his side. She lays the photo on her chest and turns her head to look at him.

“She did this all for me, you know, but you don’t know that means. I should be thankful, but…" She reaches over and scratches Dewy’s belly. "I can’t stop thinking about Bonnie.”

Dewy claws her wrist, lightly, as a warning. Myka yanks her hand away.

“Yeah, exactly. I don't know if I can trust her. But she’s helping me, I guess. She’s supposedly an ally.” She looks at the photo again. It was taken during their trip to Shelter Island, when they were pretending everything would be ok. If Helena knew then that Mrs. Frederic planned to frame her, was she already in cahoots with Bonnie? Was Bonnie’s price a roll in the hay or is that the jealous girlfriend she’s been groomed into talking?

Dewy stands up and turns in a circle, then lowers himself down, smooshing his back into Myka’s middle. She scratches under his chin and turns on her side, pulling her knees up and hunching over to spoon him.

“She wouldn’t do that to us, would she?” Dewy’s purrs soar as she rubs behind his ears. What lengths would Helena have gone to spare her? She skims her hand over Helena’s pillow, smoothing a non-existent head print and closes her eyes, summoning Helena's form.

Helena often laid awake for hours as the clock ticked toward her departure. On those days, Myka would nudge her on her side and spoon her from behind. She'd bury her nose into the bend of her neck, letting her warm breath graze over Helena's skin. When Helena'd let out a whimper, she’d press her lips into her shoulder until Helena would roll over and kiss her back. And then quickly, but quietly, their bodies would meet, instinctively quelling each others lingering anxieties.

In comparison to now, those times seem simple; if only being deported was the worst of their fears. It’s not fair their last night in Poland was fraught resentment and that she’d wasted precious time being angry. Or that she has no idea where or how Helena is or how she’s ever going to gain her freedom.

Dewy rises and blinks as she shifts to lie flat. He then settles comfortably into her armpit. She circles an arm around him as he lets out a huge yawn. She yawns reflexively, then scratches his head.

“I wish I could stay and nap with you,” she says as Dewy lays his head on his paws. “But I don’t want to scare your moms when they get home. And…I probably shouldn’t be here.” Myka turns to leave but Dewy lays a paw on her arm. She slips it free. “Sorry, little dude. Say hi to them for me?”

She plucks Helena’s photo off of the bed. "I hope you're ok,” she says to Helena's likeness, then tucks it into her bag.

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

As Myka waits for her Uber, her phone rings.

“Steve, hey.” She’d called earlier to ask if he’d seen Claudia.

"You’re back!”

“I’m back.”

“Claudia’s back, too?”

“She should be.”

“Great! So we don’t have to feed Dewy anymore.”

“You’re still feeding him?” A car pulls up to the curb. There's an Uber logo its window so she waves and points toward the trunk. "Hang on a sec,” Myka says as she throws in her overfilled tote and garment bag into the car. She slams it shut then climbs into the back seat.

“Ok, back,” she says, but gets no reply. “Steve?” She pulls the door closed and checks her screen; no service. She waves the phone to the left and the right but gets no bars.

“No use,” the driver says while driving away. “Dead zone."

“There're no dead zones in New York,” Myka snips, scrolling through her settings and tapping buttons. She glances at the driver, her voice is familiar, but all she can see is fair hair bunched up underneath a blue baseball cap. “Hey, your not...” She consults her app but the phone won't connect. “I thought my driver was a dude.”

“Change of plan,” the woman says, continuing to drive. At a red light, she turns to face Myka. “You and I need to talk.”

There’s a thunk as Myka’s phone drops to the floor. “B-B-Bonnie?” The quintessentially American accent threw her off.

“Morgana Kurlansky, Interpol,” Morgana says, extending a hand over the seat. “Though I heard you already knew that."

"I, um, yeah?" Myka takes her hand and shakes it, limply. Morgana’s tone is deeper than her European one, but just as brusque.

"This has gotten way out of hand. We're doing our best to fix it." Morgana turns back to the street and drives away.

“Is Helena in jail?” is the first thing Myka thinks to ask.

“House arrest, held for further questioning. Bargaining for leniency as we speak.”

“That’s a relief. Have you seen her?"

“No, Bonnie Belski can’t. The cops don’t know who I really am. But she’s not alone, her daughter and her friend are there with her.”

“Christina and Claudia?”

“They’re under our protection. Potential collateral damage. MacPherson’s a threat, but Mrs. Frederic's our main concern. We’re worried she'll use Christina to force Helena’s hand.”

“No,” Myka says, shaking her head. “No. She wouldn’t do that, would she?”

“There’s no limit to what she might do.” Morgana glances at Myka in the rearview mirror. The sincerity in her eyes is frightening.

“How can I help?”

“Stick to the story. Keep acting scorned. Play dumb. You did a great job in the police station.”

“So did you,” Myka says, her mood suddenly souring. “You and Helena, did you really…you know. You said you had proof.”

“What do you think?” Morgana snaps.

“I don’t know.” Myka narrows her eyes.

“Everything Helena’s done has been to keep you in the clear. Do you think she'd go that far?”

“No.” Myka looks down at her hands.

“She loves you. Remember that. But it's better for you if you don't know.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Go with your gut."

More cryptic bullshit. Great.

They drive in silence for a few moments, then Morgana speaks up. “We have eyes on you, but stay on your toes. Has anyone at work asked about your trip?”

“Just about my show and Thanksgiving.”

“Even Vanessa?”

“I’ve barely seen her.”

“Hm. Steering clear until there's a verdict. None of this is public yet.”

“I know, I’ve looked.” Myka waits for Morgana to continue, but she doesn't. “How long will this last?"

“No one knows. But there's a contingency plan if things go further south.”

“What about Christina’s school? And Kenpo? And drum lessons?”

“We’re taking care of it.”

“Steve and Liam? Claudia’s neighbors?”

“Claudia will be in touch."

“And if Steve asks me what happened? What do I say?"

“For authenticity, you should—”

“Yeah, I get it.” Myka waves a hand dismissively. She sees it now, why Morgana won't tell her the truth. She looks out the window, but doesn’t focus on anything. Acting the part of a scorned lover doesn’t appeal to her at all.

The car pulls over to the curb.

“Do you really work or Interpol?” Myka asks.

Morgana nods.

“And the other stuff? Was Claudia right?”

Morgana looks over her shoulder but her eyes offer no answer.

“Fine.” Myka unlatches the door. She's not sure she can handle the truth right now anyway.

  “Remember what I’ve said. And be mindful about what you say,” Morgana warns. “This is a critical stage; we all have to play our parts. Everyone’s looking for faults, especially Mrs. Frederic. Be extra careful if she contacts you."

The remark hits Myka hard; she trusted Mrs. Frederic unconditionally. It’s still foreign that Mrs. Frederic wants to hurt her and the ones she loves. “They’re all ok, right?” She looks back at Morgana.

“As far as I know, they’re fine,” Morgana says, her tone softening. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer, but I’ll be in touch whenever I can.”

Myka nods and opens the door, then walks toward her building.

“Hey, your stuff,” Morgana calls.

“Right, stuff,” Myka repeats. The trunk pops open but suddenly her stuff is no longer important.

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

As December crawls to a close, Myka’s worry morphs into a dull, constant pang. She obsessively checks for news but finds none. She avoids talking to friends, especially Abigail, as she's the hardest person to lie to. There's no way she can navigate this for months on end.

For the holidays, she visits her family as she's done every year. There’s little mention of Helena, except from her sister, who begs for details about her relationship. She concocts a story about visas and compromise, unable to tell the lie in full. Tracy seems to buy it, enough for her to drop it, at least until after the celebrations are over.

On Christmas afternoon, she hides upstairs, looking through boxes her mom said to "take back with her." Nothing strikes her as worth keeping, though lukewarm memories of school hijinks momentarily displace thoughts of Helena’s whereabouts.

When her phone buzzes, she startles. The number's oddly long but her gut tells her to answer.

“Hello?”

“Happy Christmas! Did you know they say that here instead of Merry Christmas?"

“Christina?”

"In Welsh it’s Nadolaig Llawen. Mom’s been teaching me.”

“Nadolay…what?” Christina’s last word sounded like a phlemy version of “lawn".

“But everyone on TV says Happy Christmas. And the Queen gave a speech to address 'her royal subjects!’ Mom said I’m one of them, but Aunt Claudia's not because she’s American.”

“There was a war. A revolutionary one. So yeah.” Myka's voice cracks as a swell of relief overtakes her. Plus Christina mimicking the Queen was the cutest thing ever.

“We opened Christmas crackers and mine had a hat, a bracelet and a joke. Who delivers presents to baby sharks at Christmas?”

“I don’t know.”

"Santa Jaws!” Christina cracks up laughing. “Oh, oh, and we made fruitcake. Mom said the store-bought ones were gross but the one we made was kinda gross, too.”

“I’ve never had fruitcake.”

"Don't."

A mumbly voice sounds in the background. Christina says “ok.”

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to her too.”

“I wish you were here.”

“So do I.”

“Merrrrry Christmaaaaas!” Christina says, her words fading away as the phone is passed on.

“Hello, Myka,” Helena says and those two words, in that rich, velvety voice, make Myka's insides melt. She swallows back a sob before answering.

“D-Does this mean that you’re...”

“I’m afraid not. There’s been little movement since we last spoke. All that fanfare for such little gain.”

"How are you calling?

“Many strings were pulled. And a tantrum may have occurred in front of several key officers. Not by Christina.”

“Oh my.” Myka pictures a distraught Helena pleading with suits while Claudia's concocting a covert communication scheme in the background.

“I assume you're at your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Where are you?”

“How are you coping?” Helena says.

Deflecting already. “I’m…” Should she tell her this lie’s been eating away at her soul, that waking up every day without them is torture? “I’m ok, I guess. But it sucks, not knowing where you are or how you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This is my fault, not yours. You did this for me.” The weight of that's still sinking in. "It’s hard to be here without you."

“But you must."

“I’m trying.” Myka tears up, speaking the truth after bottling it is overwhelming. “I, um…I got that residency, in LA. I’m going in February. Unless you think I shouldn't.”

Helena sniffs in before continuing, she must be affected, too. “Go on. Focus on your work. Put this behind you if you can.”

“What if you come back while I’m gone?”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“But it’s already been a month. How long will this take?”

“As long as it needs to, so we all may be safe.”

“I know. It’s just...” Myka pushes a box of out of the way and flops back on the bed. “I’m being encouraged, 'for appearances,' to move to LA.”

“By whom?”

“By Morgana.”

“You’ve spoken?”

“Briefly. Twice.”

“I asked her to watch over you.”

“So you think I should?”

“If she thinks it’s best, perhaps consider it. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

"Charlotte and Bennett are moving to London, so I have to move anyway. And Vanessa introduced me to a museum there looking for a new registrar.”

“Ah. If she hands you off, you’re no longer her problem. I imagine she’s keeping her distance, riddled with guilt.”

“Maybe, yeah, I don’t know. It’s been weird at work in general.” Everyone keeps giving her sad, concerned looks, and she’s worried they know more than they're saying. "A fresh start might be good. I’ve never been to LA. I might hate it.”

“It’s awfully showy.”

“When this is over you’ll come back New York, right? I want to be here when you do.”

“Claudia will be back eminently, but Christina and I…”

“Christina and you what?"

“Christina and I will be moving on after the holidays.”

“Moving where?”

“Somewhere safe."

“You'll call me when you get there.”

“There'll be strict rules, once we’re settled.”

“Once you're settled? Settled where? Like witness protection?”

Helena’s silence is answer enough.

“For how long?” Myka yelps. “God, I sound like a broken record."

“We'll miss you terribly if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Someday you’ll stop saying that. You’ll be able to stop saying that.”

“One can only hope."

“Does Christina know what's going on?”

“She understands as much as an eight-year-old can.”

“She’s almost nine. Nine! I’ll miss her birthday. I don’t want to miss her birthday.”

“You’ll be there in spirit.”

There's mumbling in the background.

“Please, not yet,” Helena says.

More mumbling.

“They’re saying I must go. The line’s unstable.” As if on cue, the line crackles.

“Helena?”

“I’m here.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christma—“

“Helena. Helena!” There’s a click then dead air. “I love you,” she whispers as if the phrase will reach Helena anyway.

"Who you talking to, sis?” Tracy says from the door.

Myka jerks upright. “I, um...Abigail. Her family’s driving her nuts.”

“Join the club,” Tracy says and rolls her eyes. She walks into the room and sits on the bed. “Mom’s going to have a coronary if you don’t come down soon.”

“Was she calling me?”

“Duh. Like a zillion times.”

Myka hangs her head but doesn’t move. Tracy circles and arm around her.

“It’s a big one, huh? Got your heart broken didn’t you?”

Myka shakes her head.

“You’ll get over it. You always do.” Tracy pulls Myka close.

“Thanks, Trace.” Myka leans into her sister. Her words are comforting, though she doesn’t know the truth.

“Soooo...Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Ted went to Graceland this year. Keep them talking; that might get us through dinner in one piece.”

-TBC-

[itsnotpatsy]

i think you answered it in a meme recently, but talk about trish and daphne's relationship. how did they get together / what drew trish to daphne / how long they think it will last, etc. idk just soft things, write some headcanons you have about them maybe

So I’m gonna go off of V: CRIMINALLYFAMOUS: LA VIE EN ROSE that I have with @criminallyfamous (holy shit asks let me tag people now thank god) which happens wherein Trish meets Daphne during her stint making the music video with Max for her record label who is— abusive and creepy toward her and has been trying to groom her into loving him she was 15 I mean. It’s no coincidence that in canon the video’s produced by the same dude who ruined her life when she was a kid. So Daphne ends up falling for her because in between being a really fucked up mess she finds out she’s incredibly good hearted and surprise, you know what Daph’s Achilles heel is? Good hearted, interesting people who intrigue her. When she freaks out Trish might be in really serious danger, she convinces Debbie, Tammy and Lou (which they’ve been planning the whole time) they need to expedite Trish out of the country. Which in phase 1 means she’s a missing person. Living with them in a spacious apartment in France, she detoxes, slowly improves (not without stumbling), works with Daphne on the movie she’s directing, and learns to find herself under a pseudonym. Phase 2 means she blackmails Max by making it seem as though she was kidnapped and kept hostage at his manse in Monaco. Phase 3 means she gets back to the states, publicly gets with Daphne, and they get to move in together and be an actual thing finally while Trish testifies enough to have Max incarcerated for everything he’s done, to her and whoever else was victimized by him. By the time he’s incarcerated, Trish’s mother is by way of heavy implication and fraud (after Debbie, spiteful and protective, manages to offer Dorothy several millions for knowledge on Trish under the guise of writing a book and all the funds so happen to be extremely illegal, false, and involved in a larger illegal operation she dug up), it’s been hovering around three years Daph’s been with Trish. So after Daph proposes to her, they get to learn how to be real people living in society. Well, trish, now around twenty-three years old, gets to.

So what drew Daphne to Trish was that, in spite of how very, very off balance she was, how much she was suffering, there was maybe the last innocent, kind person she knew of in there. When Daphne suggests she quit the video with what’s going on, Trish says she can’t, more than three hundred jobs depend on her finishing this. And that’s the first nail in the coffin. Daphne’s absolute first sort of fascination is with the fact that someone so hurt, someone hurting so badly, can still self-sacrifice in a way so dogged when she could just up and leave. As for Trish’s draw to Daphne, it begins in a way surprisingly basic: Trish has been a fan of her movies since she was younger. Princess Diaries was significantly escapist for her, as a dream she’d had since she was small— that her father, kicked out and faded into obscurity by her mother, might show up, some kind of prince, and she’d be a princess, and he’d take her and off they’d go. Not aligned, but still. She’s admired her throughout her career and Daphne’s the one person who’s ever treated her like a person— the first to make her understand she shouldn’t do anything she doesn’t want to.

Interestingly, Daph, right up to the point they let go of Trish to lie to the authorities about Max in a grand circus, thinks there’s a timer on their relationship. Right up until Trish, who has been positive this is the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with, gives Daph a pink diamond bracelet and asks if she still wants them to be together back in New York. Daphne enthusiastically says of course, more than convinced now there’s a permanence to this. The fact is, to Trish the click was immediate, easy. From moment one she knew. Daph’s reservations laid in her own insecurity, but Trish hasn’t yet been through the ringer that makes her doubt herself completely.

And while we’re here, headcanons:

• Trish plans to get back into acting eventually though it’s very difficult for her. Daph’s been extremely supportive, because frankly she thinks Trish is a well of natural talent. Which she is. • Trish auditions for a movie Daph thinks sounds incredible entitled ‘Rachel Getting Married’ that would be great for her. The content proves too much for her to handle without risking a relapse, a breakdown, or both. • Daphne, instead, auditions and gets it. Trish coaches her on it, since it’s entirely about addiction and recovery. • Daph wins an Oscar for it. No wife’s ever been as proud as Trish. • Daph likes buying Trish expensive scarves so that she can pull her in by them to kiss her. • Trish has and is always wearing a coat but she’s more often than not shoved into Daphne’s because in spite of being 5’11” while Daph’s quite a little bit shorter, Trish still think she’s small. • Trish cuts off and dyes all her hair honey blonde twice. When she’s done going through withdrawals and when she gets back to the US and spends her first night officially living in Daphne’s apartment. She can try to tuck hair that isn’t there behind her ears constantly now, still very much a habit. • She wore but wasn’t big on contacts. Eventually encouraged to be herself, fake Parisian Trish learned she could wear her glasses and not worry about her mother’s insistence it ruined her image. • Trish refuses to ever let her hair get long again. She finds she’s much more comfortable with it short, though she might let it get to her shoulders, one day, maybe. • Daph and Trish have dinner every Sunday with Deb, Tammy, and Lou, who they see spontaneously throughout the week anyway. They argue over ordering takeout until Tammy cooks during the takeout argument and then they can’t order takeout. • Debbie still orders takeout. • Once a week, Daph and Trish pick up Tammy’s daughter from school because she believes Daphne is a real life princess. She’s still forgiving Trish for cutting her ‘princess hair.’ • Daphne basically has a running calendar of all Trish’s doctor’s appointments from chiropractors to acupuncturists to therapists because she’s going to fucking take care of herself if it kills her, and Trish’s record of abuse damage leaves her with enough chronic pain and a reckless disregard for her health. • Daphne likes to take Trish’s glasses off to kiss her or push her up into her hair. It’s all very light. She knows how badly Trish needs light. Deserves light. • She’s going to spend the rest of her life with an enormously tall, angry, hipster-looking asshole with a heart of gold. • Trish gets her GED after a considerable amount of time and then finally attends college. She teeters constantly on a liberal arts major, for the flexibility, but goes for women’s and gender studies. • Daphne directs Trish in the first film she chooses to do out of ‘acting retirement’. It’s extremely lax and meant to be a place she can stretch her legs again, but Trish quickly proves Daphne was right: her natural talent is absolutely incredible and her instincts are on point. • Debbie gives Trish a middle name: it’s Vivienne, which is her mother’s (presumed) name, because she wants Trish to feel like she’s part of the family. Trish cries. • Trish is going to spend the rest of her life with the woman who got her out of the worst thing she’s ever been through, who she thinks is the most talented, loving person alive. • Trish takes Daphne’s last name. She doesn’t want her own, not here. • Which doesn’t matter because Daphne’s inevitably going to be given Debbie’s because That’s Her Mom. • oh wow this got away from me

[hayjeon]

Pretend Lane (ft. Hoseok)

Drabble Game prompt 23. “Just pretend to be my date.”

→ bestfriend!Hoseok in the BTSin10yearsAU aka fluffy fluff → 2.1k words

A/N: Highly recommended that you read the other installments first! (Aka Yoongi’s and Jimin’s); to be continued! :) 

Hoseok watches as you laugh and giggle with the other bridesmaids, and sips his wine. You look absolutely gorgeous, in your bridesmaid dress and your hair put up in an elegant bun. Although, he’s thought you were gorgeous no matter what you were wearing. 

It began years ago when you stumbled into his studio a few years ago, holding a box of papers and asked him who the owner of the dance studio was. You were the new interior designer that his manager had hired to help figure out the renovation details and plannings. Hoseok had ended up buying his manager hyung a pretty decently priced meal because he knew if somehow he hadn’t trusted his manager with the task of finding a designer, Hoseok would’ve never had the chance to meet you. 

It became a natural routine for the next few months, you would come by to his office at 4 PM precisely, and would lay out your plans, and you two would sit in his office discussing where he should move, what kind of wood to use for the floor, and whether he should install extra rooms for this and that. And he loved it. 

It first caught his attention how hard working you were, always coming to his office with the neatest and organized packets of papers and samples. And then it caught his interest on how similar your tastes were to his and what he wanted for the renovation.

“Dude, when are you ever gonna stop staring and just tell her you like her?” Jimin whispers, glancing towards you and then back to Hoseok. 

Hoseok sighs, finishing off his wine and setting it down with a thoughtful look. “I’m just waiting for the right moment.” 

His friend snorts and sighs, shaking his head. “Hyung, let me just tell you, if you wait another minute, you’re gonna end up waiting an entire lifetime.” 

Hoseok brushes the comment off with a smile. “Just because you have two kids.” He gestures towards Jimin’s wife who is calmly feeding the monsters their meals. They’re actually really well-behaved today and Hoseok grins to see that everything for Yoongi’s wedding is going exactly as planned. 

Before they can continue, Namjoon’s voice booms through the speakers. “Hey, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to begin the first dance. Can we have all the couples out on the dance floor to join Mr. and Mrs. Min Yoongi for the first dance?” 

Everyone begins to chatter as sweet music begins to flow through the speakers, a song that Yoongi most likely wrote and produced. Hoseok lingers behind and watches as his other members find their wives or girlfriends and take their hand and go down to the wide dance floor. He asks a waiter for another glass of wine. 

Suddenly, a hand grasps his arm and he looks up to meet your eyes as you take a seat next to him in Jimin’s empty spot. You snicker, “Look at Namjoon and the bride of honor. I knew it.” 

Hoseok glances towards the two who are currently gazing lovingly into eachother’s eyes, contrasting their earlier behavior when they were about to rip into eacthoer’s throats. Laughing, he thanks the waiter for his glass of wine and hands you one too. You clink the glass with him and sip quietly, eyes both trained on the cute couple in front of you. 

But Hoseok secretly watches you. 

Everyone always expected Hoseok to fall for a dancer. Someone who was graceful on her feet, and sweet and feminine and always happy and loud. Like him. But life had other plans, when he fell for you, hard. You, his great partner and friend, who couldn't dance to save your life, who procrastinated until the last minutes and matched the levels of Yoongi's grumpiness, hated wearing anything besides leggings and loose shirts, always sat in the corner with a wicked smile, scheming with Taehyung and Jungkook which prank to play on the members next. But it wasn't those qualities that made him fall for you so hard. Sure, they were endearing, but it was the times you weren't like that, that got him. The times you, when meeting his parents, sweetly talked to them with a gorgeously genuine smile, helping his mom do the dishes and clean whenever she invited the both of you over. Or when all the pranks you pulled on him ended up with you laughing so beautifully, head thrown back and rushing up to him with a hug as an apology. Or when you would only leave your house and show up when his academy had dance recitals and showcases, grumpily holding a bouquet of flowers and waiting for him after the events so you can grab a drink with him. He likes it especially when you're dressed up, looking like a million bucks in the bridesmaids gown you're wearing, natural beauty enhanced by light makeup and the gorgeous soft pink hue of your dress. He loved the moments when you strayed from your cold exterior and showed the soft, and gentle girl you were because he knew you showed those sides to only him. He loved both parts to you. 

”Do you wanna dance?” You murmur, and Hoseok is stunned to hear the offer. 

”Huh?” He gawks dumbly.

You shrug, “Everyone is judging because we’re the only ones who aren’t dancing. Well, yeah, we are the only ones without dates. Let’s dance. Pretend to be my date.” 

Hoseok laughs as he stands up. “Everyone knows who we are y/n.” 

You giggle, smiling evilly. “Time to give ‘em a show.” 

He guides you to the side of the dance floor and 

"Oh shit sorry," you murmur, wincing as you step on his feet again. "Ugh I knew this was a bad idea," you pout and whine as he chuckles down at you. You two were standing next to Jimin and his wife, and Jungkook and the cute photographer. Yoongi and his wife danced blissfully in the middle. "It was your idea by the way. Do your feet hurt?" He murmurs, and you nod silently, the tiredness of the whole day making you soft and pouty. "Take off your heels," he instructs and holds your hand as you lean down to unbuckle the horrible things. He grabs the shoes from you and threads a long finger through the straps, positioning the hand behind your back to hold you close. "Step on my feet," he says, encouraging you to come closer. You hesitate, "Oh dude, Ill crush you." He snorts. "Oh shut up. Just step on my feet." You hesitate, but you've already stepped on him countless times with your heels so why not? You gingerly place your toes into his shoes and he steadies you with a warm big hand on the small of your back. Once you're situated, he rocks the two of you gently back and forth. You find it easiest to just tuck your head into his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne while he rests his jaw on your temple. "I fucking hate weddings," you murmur, closing your eyes, and squeezing his shoulder. He chuckles, "Me too." You yawn, sighing into his neck, and he tenses up at the feeling, swallowing hard. "Thanks Hoseok, you're the best friend anyone could ask for. What did I do to deserve you?" He doesnt answer and just looks over the crown of your head at the bride and groom. They're blissfully staring into eachothers eyes and Hoseok has never seen Yoongi so happy. He desperately wishes it were him in the center of the dance floor, and you in the white wedding dress with a ring on your finger. He wants to whisk you away to London, just like you've always wanted, and kiss you and whisper the three words that you deserve to hear. He wants to memorize every inch of you, trace his fingertips over the soft skin that he knows no one has seen before. He wants to wake up to your messy hair and fall asleep to your droopy eyes. He wants to leave in the morning and kiss you goodbye, and come back to an empty house and prepare dinner for you so that when you return from your job, you can tell him stories of your students at school over a hot meal. He wants to teach your children how to dance, to make sure his lineage aren't born with two left feet like you are. He wants to desperately break the walls between the two of you, labeled "best friend." But he's been waiting too long. Its much too dangerous now. He prefers to just be here, cocooning your tiny frame in his. Because, he tells himself, it's the best he can give right now. 

Pretend. 

[prettymessedupsituation]

Prompt: two friends, crazy ex is coming, quick pretend we're a couple!

What’s a Kiss Between Friends?

Rating: Teen and UpRelationships: Platonic Sam & Cas, Dean/Cas, alludes to past Sam/BeckyWord Count: 2,156Tags: AU: Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Aromantic, Platonic Kiss, First Kiss, Feelings RealizationSummary: Sam’s miserable at a wedding reception he’d rather not be at. When he finds out a crazy ex is there, he has to hope his friend Cas, and his brother Dean, don’t hold this exit strategy against him.

Read on AO3

Sam leaned against a column, hands shoved into his pockets, and stared at the ceiling. He watched the lights fade from one color to the next. The band was about situated, and the other guests started to filter into the reception hall. Sam sighed. A quick look at his watch told him it was too early to sneak out. He’d at least have to say his congratulations to Chuck before he escaped. His eyes searched around the busy room and found what he was looking for - the bar, and of course, his brother seated next to Cas.

After a few drinks, Sam felt a little more relaxed and less anxious to get out of there. The bride and groom had cut the cake, had their first dance, and were starting the receiving line. Sam hit Dean with the back of his hand.

“I’m gonna go say bye to Chuck and head out. You coming?”

“Nah,” Dean said, tapping his glass to alert the bartender. “I’ll be fine right here.”

“What about you, Cas?” Sam asked, the look on his face practically begging him to go.

Cas looked at Dean and to the line of people, then returned to Sam. “I…uh….”

“Stop giving him puppy dog eyes,” Dean said. “I can’t even see your face and I  know  you’re giving him the eyes.”

Sam turned to Dean. “I just want to get through the line, say bye to Chuck, and get out of here, man. And I…don’t want to stand there alone.” He smiled shyly to a woman in her early 60s as she walked past and gave him a wink.

“Look at all those bridesmaids,” Dean said as he gestured with his glass. “Why don’t you go give  them your puppy dog eyes.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cas said. “Better to have a wing-man anyway.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come find me when you’re done. Give them my best.”

Sam and Cas slowly made their way through the reception line, giving quiet smiles to women who glanced their way. “I hate weddings,” Sam breathed. Cas looked at him, confused. “No. I take that back. I don’t hate weddings. I hate…receptions full of people I don’t know. Dean loves them.” He looked back toward the bar and Dean wasn’t there. He searched around and then he saw him, standing next to the wedding cake, stealing a big piece from the back instead of taking one of the smaller pre-cut pieces.

“Why can’t he behave for twenty minutes?” Cas asked. He rubbed his forehead and wiped the palm of his hand over his face.

“Hey. Cas.” Sam shifted his weight and lowered his voice. “Have you and Dean…ever…?” Cas wasn’t catching on. “Do you ever feel like you and Dean have a more-than-friends kind of relationship?”

“Well, yes, I do consider us closer than friends.”

“But different than how you would describe me and you, right?”

Cas thought for a moment. “Yes. I would say the way I feel about him is different than the way I feel about you.”

“How so?”

“I believe the best way to describe it is a difference in intensity,” Cas said. “I obviously care for you very much, and I view you as my family and closest friend.”

“But…Dean?”

“It’s different. Family and a friend, of course, but…different. For instance, when he says I’m like a brother to him, it feels wrong. Almost forced and unnatural.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah. It doesn’t seem like a brother kind of love.”

“Then, what?” Cas asked. Beads of sweat dotted his hairline. “Not romantic.”

“I didn’t say that. Just different than sibling love and more intense than friendship…maybe there’s something there.”

Cas looked over at Dean. He was sitting at the bar again, eating his plate of cake and drinking champagne. He sighed. “Well, Sam, you’re not wrong. Even when he’s being an idiot, I do feel something for him. I had just chalked it up to friendly affection.”

As they approached Chuck, the line slowed even more. They gave congratulations to his wife. Sam shook his hand and pulled him in for a hug.

“Hey, Sam! Cas. Good to see you guys,” Chuck said. “Glad you could make it. But…” Chuck leaned in and whispered to Sam, “I’m sorry dude, you’ve gotta get out of here before she sees you.”

“She who?” Sam asked.

“Shit. Okay. Stay cool. Sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Good luck,” Chuck said. “Uncle Barry!” he said a little too loud with a nervous chuckle, abandoning Sam and Cas to save themselves.

Sam turned around to head back to the bar to get Dean and saw, standing by the cake table, Becky Rosen. “Oh no,” he said. “Becky.”

“Crazy ex Becky?” Cas asked. 

“Maybe she won’t see me.”

“Sam, you’re a fairly large human being. She’s going to see you.”

“Shut up, Cas.” He tried to come up with an escape plan. He turned to Cas, who looked as pessimistic about whatever Sam was planning as Sam was panicked.  “Okay. I’m going to back up and head toward the exit. You go get Dean and meet me out front,” Sam said.

“Sam Winchester?”

Sam shut his eyes tight and gritted his teeth. He slowly turned to see Becky’s face beaming at him.

“Hey, Becky! Fancy seeing you here.” He let out an  oof  as she practically tackled him with a hug. “Why…are  you here?” Sam asked.

“I do weddings!“ she said. She released him and gave him a once over before continuing. "Chuck’s wife, then fiance, hired me, and until rehearsal last night I didn’t even realize it was him. What a small world.”

“Feels smaller every second,” Sam said.

“So. Sam,” she started as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “are you here with anyone?”

Sam stammered. He looked around the room as if a gutsy single girl would just appear and save the day. Then he looked to Cas and mouthed Go with it. “Actually, yes. I am.” Sam put his arm around Cas and pulled him close. “Becky, this is my boyfriend. Cas.”

“Oh. Oh. That’s…great!” Becky said. She assessed a look on Cas’s face that Sam couldn’t see, and her shift in demeanor made him nervous. “So, when did this happen?” she asked. “Where did you guys meet?”

“We met in law school,” Sam said. “Yeah. He was a TA in one of my classes and ran a study group.” Sam’s eyes met Cas’s and the level of desperation he was feeling must have come through.

“Sam’s brother used to come hang out sometimes and we all got really close,” Cas added, pulling Sam closer. “We were just friends for so long until one day, everything clicked into place.” He glanced at Sam with a look of realization.

“Really? That’s…incredible,” Becky said. “I never would have thought….”

“Yeah. I never would have thought either,” Sam said. “It’s crazy, you know. You have these feelings and don’t recognize what they mean until someone shines a little light on them.” He hesitantly kissed the top of Cas’s head.

Becky squinted.

Sam tried to sell it a little harder. “Can you believe it’s been nine years since we met?” he mused to Cas with an awkward laugh. Then he turned his attention to an unconvinced Becky. “When we met, I was in a really dark place and he pulled me out of it. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve had our fights, but we always know where home is - each other.” His eyes looked into Cas’s and he hoped the words drove home. "Honestly, I’d be lost without him.”

“That’s great, Sam. Glad to see you’re happy and doing well.”

“Yeah. Well. I am.  We  are. And I hope you’re doing well too. It seems like it. The wedding was lovely.”

“Aw, thank you. That means a lot,” Becky said. “You know, I always had planned our wedding over and over in my head and it made me think, ‘You know what, Becky? You’d be good at making other people’s dream weddings become reality.’”

Cas looked at Sam. “You never told me you were going to get married.”

“We weren’t!” Sam exclaimed. He looked back at Becky and cleared his throat. “Not that being married to you would have been a bad thing, but I just wasn’t ready for that level of commitment.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Sam.”

“I wasn’t…?”

Becky continued. “Sometimes you think someone’s perfect and the person of your dreams, but after time you realize it just wasn’t meant to be.” Her eyes looked watery. “And at the end of the day, if you’re happy, then I’m happy,” she said with a bright smile. She opened her arms for him to give her a hug and stood there, waiting. Sam moved in cautiously and bent down to give her a hug. Becky whispered in his ear, “Unless you’re lying. Unless you’re pretending to be in a relationship just to avoid spending the three minutes it would take to have one dance with me. Then I would be really, really upset.”

Sam let go of her and stood. He smiled, nostrils flared, trying to figure out how to avoid making what he felt was his next move. He looked at Cas, whose face was stricken with half amusement and half panic, cupped his face in his hands, and planted a kiss on Cas’s lips. He could feel Becky’s eyes boring into him. He had to sell it better. He relaxed his face and sank into the kiss, and he hoped Cas would forgive him.

Becky nodded. “You guys have a great night.” As Cas kissed back, she stumbled over her words. “I-I just..I have to just…okay. Bye.”

Sam opened his eyes with his mouth still on Cas’s and saw Becky walking away. Sam let go of Cas and in one breath burst out, “ Sorry sorry sorry sorry , I’m  so  sorry.”

Cas laughed and just shook his head. He pinched the corners of his mouth with his middle finger and thumb. “It’s fine.”

“Sam? Cas? What the hell?”

They looked up and saw Dean standing there with two champagne flutes and two plates of cake.

“Dean! Hey! This, uh, this is  not  what it looks like!” Sam said. He looked around to see if Becky was near. He didn’t see her, but wasn’t taking any chances. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

“No. I wanna know what the hell just happened. And I brought you two  cake ,” Dean said, a bit drunk and disgusted.

“Seriously. Dean. It’s not what you think. Just…come on. Let’s go outside.”

“Why the -”

“Dean.” Cas’s authoritative voice always gave him pause, even if it didn’t last long. He grabbed Dean’s shoulder and walked him out to the car.

“Okay, we’re outside. What the hell -”

“Becky Rosen was in there,” Sam said. Dean was taken aback as he processed that tidbit of information and then calmed down, understanding. “She was…being Becky. I roped Cas into pretending he was my boyfriend to get her to leave me alone.” He put his hand on Cas’s back. “Sorry. Again.”

“It’s no problem,” Cas said with a wave.

“But that kiss…,” Dean started.

“Didn’t mean anything,” Sam promised. He paused. “Wait a minute. Why do you care?”

“B-because, Sam!” Dean sputtered.

“Because…?”

“Why  do  you care, Dean?” Cas asked.

Dean’s face flushed. He had no response. Sam watched with a smile as Cas stepped toward Dean. His brother swallowed hard. “I don’t.”

“You’re lying,” Cas said with a laugh. “Why does it bother you so much that Sam kissed me - even if it meant nothing?” Dean was backed against the car and Cas stood toe-to-toe with him. “Were you jealous?“

“Okay! Fine! Maybe…maybe I was a little upset it wasn't  me  kissing you!” Dean shouted.

Cas smiled. He leaned in and kissed Dean. Sam turned around and grinned. He picked up one of the plates of cake Dean had carried out, leaned back against the car, and took a big bite.

A voice coming out of the reception hall said, “What the hell?”

He looked over to see Becky staring at Cas and Dean kissing while Sam nonchalantly ate cake. He picked up a champagne flute and raised it to her.

“God, the Winchesters are weird,” she said as she hurried to her car.

Sam laughed and knocked on the hood. “Guys. Hate to break it up, but how about we get back to the hotel?” Dean held up a finger, asking for one more minute. He sighed and picked up the other plate of cake. “Dean, do you want this cake, or do you mind splitting it with me? I don’t want to take a bite and then you get pissed at me about it.”

Dean broke away from Cas and opened the car door. “Okay. Let’s go.”

[kuri-chan]

out of my league | bokuto | ch. 1

pairings: bokuto x oc, tsukishima x yamaguchi

summary: naomi diaz-ito is read to start college with her best friends kei tsukishima and tadashi yamaguchi. she manages the university volleyball team and meets a whole gang of new friends. (College AU)

warnings: nothing! (this chapter)

notes: Hi friends! This is part one of my Bokuto fic I’ve been writing! It is Bokuto x OC with a prevalent Tsukishima x Yamaguchi side story, and minor Kuroo x OC. This was mostly self indulgent for me, but I like writing and I wanted to share it with my fellow simps. Also, my OC is Black and Latina (shout out to black anime fans ily), but anyone can read this. Hope u enjoi~

CHAPTER ONE

“We’re college students!” Naomi Diaz-Ito yelled jumping to put her arms around the shoulders of her two best friends, Tadashi Yamaguchi and Kei Tsukishima.

“Can you not yell, Na-chan?” Kei sighed, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“Everyone is so pretty and fashionable in Tokyo! How cool!” Tadashi said matching Naomi’s excitement.

Naomi met Kei and Tadashi in middle school. She was born in the Miyagi prefecture, but moved to America when she was just two years old for her fathers restaurant business. Her mother, Amaris Diaz, was from New York, so her husband Joji Ito thought it would be the most logical place to open his restaurant, Amaris. Everything was going well for them in New York: the restaurant achieved five stars, Naomi had tons of friends, and she even started playing volleyball after school. Then, Naomi’s life got turned around the summer before she started seventh grade.

“Naomi sweetie,” Amaris started.

“Your grandmother, my mother,” Joji added.

“Well, she’s not doing well,” Amaris sighed.

“We were going to just visit her next month, but…” Joji was getting choked up.

“We have to move in with her,” Naomi stated as a fact rather than a question.

Amaris looked down at her hands that were folded on her lap. She didn’t want to leave New York, but she loved her husband too much to not leave for him.

“You’ve always been such a smart, mature girl. I’m so proud and happy to call you my daughter,” Joji said, allowing his tears to fall.

“I’ll start packing,” Naomi tried to put on a small smile for her father. She stood up, went to her room, and allowed her tears to fall as she took the photos of her and her friends off her wall.

“Let’s get to the club fair you guys!” Naomi said dragging her friends around campus.

Tadashi and Naomi laughed excitedly and pointed at things they saw around the big University of Tokyo campus.

“Should we check out the Arts and Sciences wing? That’s where most of the first year classes are,” Kei said pointing to a tall historic looking building.

“Not yet! Club fair!” Naomi squealed.

“Club fair!!” Tadashi said almost jumping on Kei.

“Public, Tadashi,” Kei said quickly.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi said removing his arms from around Kei’s shoulders.

Naomi gazed at her two best friends with a sweet smile. Not many people knew, but during their last term in high school, Kei and Tadashi started quietly dating. Not that it was some big secret, but Kei just didn’t see a reason for needing to announce his personal business to the world. They didn’t even tell Naomi at first, since she went to a different high school, but when they finally had time to hang out between their busy lives and volleyball practices, Kei allowed Tadashi to break the news.

“You’re almost out of Shiratorizawa, eh? I can finally be seen with you in public again,” Kei said as the trio walked around the mall.

“Yeah, we won’t be rivals anymore,” Naomi said with a smile.

“We’ll finally be at the same school again!” Tadashi said excitedly.

“Yes, I can’t wait! It’ll be just like old times!” Naomi responded.

“Well, almost like old times,” Tadashi said slightly blushing.

“I mean, yeah, we’ll be older and cooler, but-”

“No, I mean… something big has changed.”

“It’s, okay, Tadashi, go ahead,” Kei said putting a hand on Tadashi’s shoulder.

“We’re dating! Also, we’re gay!” Tadashi said nervously, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You’re gay. I’ve liked girls before,” Kei said looking at Tadashi.

“Dating Naomi in middle school doesn’t count,” Tadashi said.

“Yes it does-” Kei started.

Naomi cut him off by pulling Kei and Tadashi in for a hug.

“I love you guys so much,” Naomi said squeezing her friends to her. “This makes me so happy.”

“Also,” Naomi added while letting them go, “I don’t count us dating in middle school,” Naomi said looking at Kei.

“We were each others first kiss,” Kei said with a scowl.

“Then you said ‘that was gross’ and asked for us to not see each other for a week before we could be friends again!”

Tadashi laughed at the memory.

“It wasn’t meant to be, but it counts.”

“Okay, whatever Kei,” Naomi said dismissing the conversation.

“It looks like it is just like old times,” Tadashi said laughing at the typical bickering of his best friends.

Naomi and Kei joined the laughter. Kei reached his hand to Tadashi’s and gave it a quick squeeze before letting it go. Tadashi wished that Kei would hold his hand for longer, but accepted the small amount of physical touch he got.

Naomi scanned the courtyard full of first years standing around booths and tables. She squinted searching for the sign she wanted to see.

“What are you looking for Na-chan?” Tadashi said, curious.

“Men’s volleyball,” she replied, her eyes landing on the blue and black sign that read Mens Volleyball with an image of a black shark on it.

“Huh? Why?” Kei said forcefully.

“I want to be a manager. Don’t you guys want to play?”

“I mean… I kinda did, but Kei said we needed to be recruited. They’re a really good team,” Tadashi said looking at his feet.

“I don’t really want to be on the volleyball team. They’re a strong team and I rather join a more casual club,” Kei said looking for another booth to catch his eye.

“Can we at least go over and look? We don’t have to make a decision right away, right?” Naomi said hoping to try and win him over.

Kei’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He sighed before reaching for it.

Kuroo: Tsukki! Where are you, bro?

Kei closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go,” Kei said putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Yay! Thank you, Kei!” Naomi said heading towards the volleyball table without waiting for her friends.

“We really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tadashi said so only Kei could hear.

“That’s alright, Tada-kun. If you think you want to try out, then we can try,” Kei said starting to walk.

“Okay Tsukki,” Tadashi said trying to contain his smile.

When Naomi started to approach the table, her eyes locked with the brightest eyes she had ever seen. He was laughing at something a friend of his said; his smile taking up his entire face. He was tall and muscular and seemed to take care of his teeth. Pretty well groomed for a jock, Naomi thought to herself. His hair was silver and black and spiked different directions. He was one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. He gave her a nod before turning back to his black haired friend and laughing even harder. She could hear his boisterous laugh loud and clear and she hadn’t even reached the table yet.

“Here we go,” Kei said once he and Tadashi caught up to Naomi.

“Tsukki, is that-” Tadashi started.

“Tsukki dude! What the hell!” The silver haired man yelled in the trios direction.

Kei sighed and pushed up his glasses before approaching the table.

“I thought you were gonna bail, man,” the tall one with black hair said.

“Bokuto-san. Kuroo-san,” Kei said.

“Hey, Yamaguchi-san!” The black hair one said.

“Hey Kuroo-san!” Tadashi said with wide eyes. “And Bokuto-san! I completely forgot you two go here!”

Ah, so silver haired one is Bokuto. Noted, Naomi thought to herself.

“Are these your friends, Kei-kun?” Naomi said still finding it hard to take her eyes off Bokuto.

“Hmm… I know them?” Kei said.

“Tsukki dude!” Bokuto whined. “We’re not friends?”

“Dude… we texted!” Kuroo said with a shocked expression.

“You texted?!” Bokuto yelled.

“Can you guys stop calling me that?” Kei murmured underneath the two loud, older boys.

“Well, it was about his recruitment. I am the vice-captain, ya know,” Kuroo said with a smug look.

“You keep rubbing it in,” Bokuto said pouting.

“You were recruited?!” Tadashi said.

“In a sense,” Kei sighed. “Is it okay if I explain later?”

Tadashi nodded, but seemed a little hurt that Kei kept something from him.

“The blocker who stopped Ushiwaka,” an older man said walking toward the table. “I’m Coach Yokota.”

“Hello sensei,” Kei said bowing. “My name is Tsukishima.”

“With him was Karasano’s pinch server,” Bokuto added wanting Tadashi to feel included. “He can do jump float serves.”

“Hello. My name is Yamaguchi,” Tadashi said bowing.

“I am Diaz-Ito! Do you need another manager?” Naomi said bowing.

“Manager!” A blonde girl shot up a chair. Naomi didn’t notice her there before. "My prayers are answered!“ She squealed clapping her hands.

"So, we’ll see you three at practice later?” Coach Yokota said with a smile.

“Uh… well-” Kei started.

“We’ll be there!” Naomi chimed in.

Kei shot a look at Naomi.

“Should we wear gym clothes?” Tadashi said innocently.

“Well, for try outs, you’ll be playing a practice match with our current team, so yes!” The coach said laughing heartily.

“We will be there. Let’s go Tadashi, Naomi,” Kei said turning to leave.

“Thank you,” Naomi and Tadashi said in unison while bowing. They turned to follow their tall, moody friend.

“Naomi…” Bokuto murmured under his breath as his eyes lingered on the petite girl walking away.

“Oya?” Kuroo said raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“She was cute,” Bokuto said looking at his friend with wide eyes.

“She was,” Kuroo said agreeing.

“You two are both idiots,” their blonde friend said rolling her eyes.

“But, you loooove us! Right, Haya-chan?” Kuroo said.

Haya fought back the blush from her cheeks. “Sure, Tetsuro-kun,” she replied looking down.