#anyway; apologies for my crappy sense of humor

[thatonecrookedsmile]

I decided to re-read the bendy books because it's been a while since I read them.

[rorygilmoreclown]

A start

Healer!reader x Nikolai Lanstov

Summary: The reader, who is a healer, was caught by drüskelle and then escaped their ship in a storm and then was rescued by Nikolai as Sturmhond and than slowly fall for each other and one day Nikolai sees reader hit on by someone else and gets jealous and sort of confesses. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries, also i changed the plot a bit so im sorry about that sorry sorry )

A/n: I took my sweet time, didn't I. Anyways, here it is, apologies for all the changes and this crappy writing. Might make a pt2, that's why the ending.

Warnings: None, except for this smirky smirky sunshine babygorl.

As you rouse from your slumber, a jarring realisation dawns upon you: you are no longer on your mission’s base. The scent of salt and brine pervades your nostrils, and the rhythmic groans and creaks of timber assault your ears. It takes only a moment to recall why you are in this predicament, and an acrid churning stirs within your gut.

You are a prisoner aboard the drüskelle vessel, trussed and bound, being ferried to their fortress to face their uncompromising brand of justice. The harsh squawks of the drüskelle assault your ears, censuring you for your supposed offences, their eyes brimming with nothing but antipathy and scorn for your Grisha talents. You strive to maintain your composure, reminding yourself of your mettle, but their venomous invective feels like barbs upon your flesh.

As the tempest rages on, you sense the ship pitching and yawing, at the mercy of the storm's capricious whims. Then, a deafening crack reverberates throughout the vessel, and you are flung forward, your head colliding with the bars of your cell. You hear the splintering of wood and the screams of the drüskelle, but all you can focus on is the pulsating throb in your head.

But then, a fortuitous miracle transpires. The cell confining you snaps free from its moorings and is hurled into the tumultuous waters. You acted quickly to save yourself, your appendages flailing as you struggled to stay afloat amidst the mayhem. Somehow, you manage to make it to the shore, gasping for air and quivering from the chill.

As you survey your surroundings, a colossal ship looms in the distance, and optimism swells within you, and so does dread. You remember that you are still clad in your kefta, and it may be your sole chance at survival, or another reason for a capture. As the ship draws closer, you discern a figure emerging from it, and your heart braces itself for either a negotiation or a fight. His eyes widen in astonishment as he espies you, a solitary survivor on the shore. He strides towards you, his voice ringing out like a sunbeam amidst the tempest. 

Greetings madam, I am Sturmhond, the legendary privateer and captain of the vessel. 

Are you injured, we have a medik on our ship? He paused, as if he said something humorous as well as imprecatory. Apologies for asking that question, is it offensive to ask a healer if they require medical assistance? 

That was the first time you saw that stupid smirk followed by a loud yet comforting laughter. It sounded true, as if you weren’t on some abandoned island, about to ask for an abode from a stranger, and you feel a lump form in your throat as tears threaten to spill over. And that’s how you boarded the The Volkvolny. 

You stare at Sturmhond in disbelief as he proposes his deal. Safety in exchange of your healing help. The words are hard to process, and your heart feels like it's in your throat. The thought of being safe from the Ravkans and drüskelle fills you with relief, but the idea of being on a ship with a stranger is daunting.

You take a deep breath and consider his offer, recalling the events that led you to this point. The Ravkan court, a place that was supposed to be safe and secure, turned into a nightmare when you were assaulted by one of its members. The thought of staying there was unbearable, and none of the other court members did anything to help you. You had to escape, and now you are at the mercy of a privateer captain.

But there is something about Sturmhond that feels different. His eyes are kind and understanding, and you get the sense that he genuinely cares about your well-being. You decide to take a chance, and nod your head in agreement.

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Excellent. You won't regret it, I promise. And just to be clear, you will be safe from any Ravkans or drüskelle on my ship. You have my word.

As the ship sets sail, you find yourself growing more and more comfortable in your new surroundings. You observe the crew, their different backgrounds and stories, and feel a sense of belonging that you haven't felt in a long time. You start to let your guard down around Sturmhond, telling him about your past and your hopes for the future. He listens to you with empathy and understanding, and you feel like you can truly be yourself around him.

As a part-Shu, you find yourself forming a close bond with Tamar and Tolya aboard Sturmhond's ship. Tolya is a flirt, and he often directs his playful advances towards you. Sturmhond notices and becomes increasingly snippy, trying to interrupt your conversations with Tolya. But Tolya persists, sometimes just to get a rise out of Sturmhond.

One day, as you're assisting the ship's healer with her duties, Tolya comes up beside you and leans in close. Are you a healer? he whispers. Because you just cured my loneliness. You can't help but laugh at his audacity, but you know it's all in good fun.

In another scene, you're practising some Grisha skills with Tamar when Tolya approaches. Are you a Corporalki? he asks, grinning. Because you just made my heart skip a beat. Tamar rolls her eyes at Tolya's antics, and you can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humour.

A few days later, as you and Tolya are chatting on the deck, he looks at you intently. Are you a healer like me? he asks. Because I'm feeling a strong connection between us. You can't help but feel a small flutter in your chest at his words, but you know it's just Tolya being Tolya.

As the journey goes on, you appreciate Tolya's sense of humour and his easy going nature. You come to see him as a good friend and confidant, and you value the bond you share. One night, as the two of you are sitting alone on the deck, Tolya looks at you with a tender expression. Are you a Bonesmith? he asks softly. Because you just mended my broken heart. You smile at his words, but you know that you don't feel anything more than friendship for him. Unfortunately, Sturmhond takes these positive affirmations as an indicator of your interest in Tolya. As Tolya departs to attend to some task, you're left feeling grateful for the friendship you share and the camaraderie of your journey aboard Sturmhond's ship. 

As time passes on, the tension between you and the captain grows, being very transparent for everyone but you two. The night was alive with laughter and music as Sturmhond's crew celebrated their latest successful mission. You were enjoying the festivities, chatting with Tamar and Tolya when a Ravkan nobleman approached you. He looked at you with a smirk on his lips, his eyes scanning your body. Well, well, well. What do we have here? A part-Shu healer? You must be quite the exotic beauty.

You felt uncomfortable under his gaze and tried to step back, but the nobleman grabbed your arm tightly. Tolya and Tamar shot him a sharp look, but he ignored them. Just as you were about to say something, Sturmhond appeared by your side, his arm wrapped around your waist possessively. There you are, my love. I've been searching for you everywhere.

The Ravkan nobleman's eyes widened in surprise at Sturmhond's sudden appearance. Oh, I didn't know you had a lover. Sturmhond gave a charming smile, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. Yes, she's quite dear to me. Now, if you'll excuse us.

He guided you away from the nobleman, leading you to a quieter corner of the room. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your reaction to the incident. Are you all right? he asked, his tone laced with concern. You nodded, grateful for his intervention. Thank you, Sturmhond. I was getting a little uncomfortable there.

He gave you a small smile, his hand still resting on your waist. I won't let anyone make you feel uncomfortable. After a boyish smirk that broke on his face, indicating of his crooked humour slipping through this serious situation, you knew it was to make the mood lighter. Afterall, the deal was to protect you from the Ravkans.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Sturmhond's protectiveness, his easy charm making your heart race. And as the party came to an end, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. Although you were a little disappointed as he mentioned protecting you only due to the deal. 

After Sturmhond rescued you from the trespasser at the party, he dragged you to the higher part of the ship. Your heart was pounding with anticipation, wondering what he wanted to tell you. As he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety in his presence. You couldn't help but notice how he kept looking at you with that intense gaze of his. Was he jealous of the other man who was flirting with you earlier? Did he really have feelings for you?

Suddenly, Sturmhond broke the silence with a joke, So, I'm guessing we're officially boyfriend and girlfriend now? You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. He couldn't believe he had just made that joke. He had been wanting to confess his feelings to you for so long but was too afraid of rejection. Was he being too subtle? Did she even get the hint?

Feeling bold, you responded with a joke of your own, I don't know, Sturmhond. You'll have to take me on a proper date first. You couldn't resist teasing him a little. After all, he had been flirting with you all night. As you both laughed at your playful banter, Sturmhond reached out and gently took your hand in his. He held his breath as he waited for your response. Did he really just confess his love to you? Was he about to get his heart broken? You couldn't believe it. The person you had been crushing on for so long felt the same way. Was this really happening?

As Sturmhond leaned in for a kiss, you closed your eyes and let yourself be swept away in the moment. All of your doubts and worries faded away as you realised that you had found the person who made your heart feel whole. As he kissed you, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had finally told you how he felt, and you had reciprocated. This was the start of something new, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them. 

Word Count: 1.8k 

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Done Pretending

Hi all,

I did a post-Per Manum ... I’ve had the quote ‘you and I are done pretending’ in my head for awhile and finally found a way to use it ... go me!

Anyways, enjoy :)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He hugged her for what felt like forever, the light fading in the room as he heard her heart break over and over, thudding erratically against his chest, body hitching as a poorly contained sob snuck through her cracking exterior.

She had come so close to kissing him at first, lips stopping at the corner of his mouth, before they traveled over cheek to ear, “I don’t know what to do.”

Whispering back as he tightened his hold on her, “we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

So, there they stood, until finally, Scully moved her head back, sliding it along his shoulder, “how are you doing?”

“Crappy. You?”

Sad chuckle burbled from her chapping lips, “I meant your back. You’ve been hunched over for,” looking at the clock on the VCR, “a good half hour.”

“Back? What’s a back?”

Pulling away, she stayed connected through fisted bunches of his sweater, not willing to give up contact completely but knowing he needed to stand upright or he’d never do it again. He took this correctly as a hint to stop playing the Hunchback of Notre Dame and slowly, he straightened out. His face showed every damn cartilage crack and screaming muscle and Scully couldn’t help but give him a frowning smile in sympathy, “would you go sit down, please?”

Mulder continued his stretch beyond vertical, leaning back as far as he could. twisting side to side, “if you were just, maybe, four, five inches taller or we had a set of steps or something, this would be so much easier.”

“Steps?”

“Yeah,” finally standing, wince clear on his face as his muscles finally began to calm, “I go down two steps, you stay at the top and I can hug you for a half-hour without dying.” Taking her by the hand, “come on. Let’s go find some stairs.”

“Mulder …”

“What? I’m not done with you yet. I need another hour at least.”

She loved him for trying, “how about we just order some pizza and sit down?”

Quickly taking her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead once again before she could swat his hands away, “make sure to order one of those useless veggie-tarian ones for yourself. I won’t say a word.”

Exhausted by her life, she gave him a sigh fitting someone much larger than her 5’ 3” stature, “screw vegetables. Tonight is extra cheese and as much sausage and pepperoni as they can pack on … and three-cheesy bread with at least four of those Ranch cups.”

Amused and terrified at the same time, “salad?”

“If you want me to throw bits of lettuce at you, sure, but otherwise I’m not touching it tonight.”

“You’re scary sometimes. I like it.”

Conversation gave her the distraction she needed to change into pajamas, toss Mulder some of his own from the stash she had managed to accumulate over the years, then listen to him order an obscene amount of greasy food. She made tea, a big kettle of it, knowing Mulder would consume at least half as well as all her ice cubes making it iced. She started a load of laundry and watered her last living plant. She calculated her half of the pizza bill and had a short argument with her partner when he refused to take her money.

Slow night for the pizza industry, their food arrived in under 30 minutes and once they were settled on the couch, steaming plates in hand, “are we taking tomorrow off?”

“Why?”

Mulder gave her a look, “this is food coma territory we are about to venture into. Just saying.”

And suddenly she started crying again, plate shaking in her hand, cheesy avalanche threating her lap. Taking the plate, Mulder set everything down on the coffee table and pulled her close once more, swiftly twisting so he was leaned against the arm of the sofa, Scully snuggled against his chest, sobbing into his t-shirt and kneading cotton between her fingers.

He didn’t know what to say so he cried with her, quiet but steady, until again, Scully was back down to random sniffles, "our pizza’s cold now.”

Mulder kissed the crown of her head, keeping his lips on her as he responded, “thank God you have an oven. Five minutes at 350 and we’ll never know it wasn’t fresh from Senor Jack’s House of Cheese.”

One long sniff later, Scully pushed herself up, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose, then, realizing what she’d done, “that was disgusting. Sorry.”

“Disgusting is what you did to my shirt.”

Glancing down at the large wet spot spread from collar to mid-chest, sternum to shoulder, “sorry.”

Tilting his head to look at her, wanting her to see the remnants of his own crying jag, tear streaks, bloodshot eyes, “don’t apologize. I’m not going to.”

She hadn’t realized he was crying as well and that filled her eyes once again, but blinking rapidly, she didn’t let the tears fall this time, “what was that about 350 degrees?”

He gave her possibly the saddest smile she’d ever seen, “are we going to talk about this at all? I’m not pushing, I swear, I just want to know.” Seeing her muscles tense to stand, he snagged the arm of her t-shirt, “It doesn’t have to be tonight but I’d like to at some point.”

“Can I maybe say tomorrow but reserve the right to change my mind?”

Still holding her in place, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Her gaze drifted from enveloping green eyes to full mouth, before struggling north again, watching intently as he studied her, pupils expanding and contracting, trying to figure her out. She gave him a wannabe smile, corner of her mouth turning up a microscopic notch before she managed, “I’m sorry, too.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Pizza re-heated, crust still crispy, cheese melty as ever, they ate while watching Jeopardy, then Wheel of Fortune. At eight, stuffed to the gills and both yawning, Mulder switched off the TV, asking into the darkness, “are we secure enough in our sense of self that we can go to sleep at 8pm and not feel really, really, and I mean, really old?”

“Well, I’m secure enough to know that we’re both going to need a handful of Tums before any kind of sleep can happen.”

“We are fucking old, Scully.” Standing up, “back in a minute.” He was indeed back in a minute, a little less, actually, pillow, comforter, and bottle of Tums in his hands, “catch.”

Snagging the bottle from the air, she chewed three before shaking the same amount out for him, holding them up to his now empty hands, “three for the old man.”

With a grin, glad some semblance of her sense of humor remained, “you should probably just leave the bottle on the table.”

She did, then stood, opting to clean up in the morning. Eyeing the bedding Mulder had dumped on the couch, she hesitated, her thoughts race-stumbling over one another, squishing their way to an undistinguishable mess. Fingered the corner of the deep-blue comforter, she had words fighting on the tip of her tongue, which she inexplicably ignored as she told him a soft ‘good night’ and skirted by him down the hall.

Mulder’s eyes shut, breath in, breath out, his own words fighting for freedom, to be called after her, to be spoken like they should have been hours, years, centuries, before. Instead, he waited, hearing her brush her teeth, wash something, face, hands, he wasn’t sure, then, not hearing the bedroom door shut, he instead heard the creak of her bed.

Finally opening his eyes again, he took in the shadowed living room, dimly lit kitchen, detritus of dinner for two, and turning on his heel, moved to walk down the hall. He made it three steps before he saw her come out of her bedroom door, stopping when she saw him.

He didn’t care anymore, “why do we keep doing this?”

The denial response automatic at this point, “doing what?”

Mulder took the deepest breath he could, holding it for a second before long, drawn-out exhale, “this. All of this. You there, me here, all of it.”

Her clenched fists fought down the denial this time, “it’s how we survive.”

“It’s shitty survival and getting shittier by the minute.” Tilting his head, he let his eyes bore into her, watching the flush on her skin crawl from small spots on her cheeks down her neck, and around past her ears, the hall nightlight providing everything he needed to read her clearly, “I’m done pretending, Scully. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Her voice nearly failed her, she formed the words, which cracked as they came out, “what are we pretending?”

One pathetic chuckle later, head still shaking, “Pretending I don’t want to sleep next to you instead of on this couch. Pretending you don’t want me to sleep next to you instead of on this couch. Pretending that the only reason I’d like you to stand on some stairs is so I can hug you without dying. Pretending I haven’t wanted to be with you since three minutes after I met you. Pretending that I’m not dying just as much as you are about our child not being inside you right now. Take your damn pick.”

“Mulder …”

About to start bawling all over again, he bit his cheek, realizing his confessions had escaped the confines of his mind, “what?”

“Why are you still standing over there?”

His legs wouldn’t budge, rooting to the spot, needing a question answered before he moved his life forward, “are we done pretending?”

Eyebrows scrunching, lips a tight line of fear, she nodded, “I think we need to be.”

His muscles remember the act of walking and seven strides later, he was in front of her, “you need a place with steps in it.”

“How about we worry about steps later?” Smiling the smile of someone who’d been through the proverbial wringer several times in one day, she reached out, took his hand, “maybe we’ll start with forgetting about you sleeping on the couch.”

Because he was Mulder, he looked over his shoulder to do one last front door lock check before letting her lead him into her bedroom, “you got another non-crusty shirt for me?”

Ticking them off on her fingers, “I’ve got Power Puff girls, Brady Bunch, Tetris, or the one with the Easter Peeps.”

“This feels like a Tetris kinda night.”

“If that’s not a metaphor for our lives, I don’t know what is.”

“They get lined up eventually, Scully. I promise.”

Exhaustion hit her like a freight train and handing him the shirt, “I need some sleep, Mulder. Can we worry about our puzzling lives tomorrow?”

Exchanging one shirt for the other, he headed to the opposite side of the bed, pulling comforter back, “as long as we can order some more pizza while doing it.”

She gave him a curt nod that made him smile, then silence settled while they did, shifting, pulling covers, straightening pillows, giggling once on Scully’s part when Mulder’s cold feet hit hers. Once quiet, comfortable, Scully slowly reached across the expanse between, 14 inches feeling like a mile, stopping when her fingers reached his cheek, “I love that you wanted this child just as much as I did.”

His hand drifted across the same expanse, palm on her cheek, closing the circle between them, “I fell in love with the idea of him the moment you asked me.”

Fingers to his lips and endlessly tracing, “I fell in love with the idea of him three minutes after I met you.”

“I love you.”

Scooting forward, she breathed her ‘I love you’ back, running firmly into his chest, arm up and over his side in a hug.

Tetris, my ass. They’d fit together perfectly from the beginning.

[sunaswife]

A Suna Rintarou series

Summary: Suna was the best boyfriend you could ask for, after fighting with your inner demons that screamed you were ugly, worthless, and annoying. You finally decided to go the next step with your boyfriend, only to find out it was all a game.

A/N: PART 12 Oof my brain is fried but this is a small chapter I made in about an hour hehehe so enjoy :) I have the next two chapters in the works atm and I’m excited for whats going to come! I find it funny when I can’t choose on what to write and I have multiple ideas, I flip a coin. Deadass. Lmao I wasn’t gonna have a sequel and I was gonna end this shit with angst but I flipped a coin and it said to make a sequel so I’m working on that too! My friends know what’s gonna go down and if they’re screaming I know y’all are most likely gonna scream too 😌ANYWAYS ON TO THE STORY

Warnings: underaged drinking, smut, guys talking badly about women, heartbreak, messed up shit that you shouldn’t do and a bit of fluff if you squint

Disc six-part two: Miya Atsumu 🏐

A/N: idk how y’all do fake text messages so enjoy this text convo lmao EDIT: @m-i-n-t-y-fresh made me these convos so I deleted the crappy one I had prior lol. Tysm 🖤🤍

You giggled at your boyfriends response. Yeah he’s definitely gonna punish you when you come back. “Ooo kinky~” you heard next to your ear and you yelped. “What the fuck Tooru-Senpai. Don’t scare me like that!” You put your hand on your chest. “This Rin-rin seems like a total dom. you’re such a sub it makes sense that you’re wrapped right around his finger. Say. How far have you guys gone?” He asked and your face turned red. “None of your business shittykawa. She’s old enough to make her own decisions.” Iwa-Senpai said and you slightly gave him a thankful smile.

“But if he pressures you into doing something you don’t wanna do then he needs to watch out because you’re going to kick his ass.” Iwa patted your back and you nodded. “Iwa you’re so vulgar.” He muttered and you snickered. They haven’t changed at all.

Lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely

I have nobody for my own

“Can you stop playing that? You’ve been playing it all day.” Aran told Atsumu who layed on the floor with Suna and Osamu. They all looked at the ceiling feeling empty and lonely. The squad was not complete so they couldn’t properly function. “I’m just trying to think of Y/N’s smile. She’s not here so I can’t have my daily dose of serotonin.” He said earning a smack from Suna. “Dude seriously you gotta shut the fuck up. Those comments you keep to yourself. Not in front of the boyfriend of the girl you think you have a chance with.” Suna hissed and sat up. “Damn chill it’s just a joke.” Atsumu mumbled but Suna wasn’t pleased. He just gave a look to Atsumu.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not make those comments outloud. Do you want Y/N to report you for sexual harassment? Do you want to start an issue with the team because you can’t keep it in your pants and wanna take away someone who’s in a relationship with your teammate?” Kita scolded and Atsumu shut up. Osamu sighed and shook his head. ‘Tsumu is a fucking idiot.

“She’s calling.” Suna freaked out as he looked at his phone. He pressed the answer button and put it to his ear. “Hey princess~” he said lowly and all suave but the team snickered, he’s such a simp. Atsumu stood up unamused and walked to the restroom.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Why is he acting like this?

Atsumu looked at his reflection and he saw his dirty blonde hair, his thick eyebrows. His small mustache that was forming. He needed a shave. “What’s wrong with you dude.” He whispered to himself.

Why do I keep feeling like this. Atsumu wondered. It’s not fair. Why does Suna get the girl? Why does he get to love her? Cuddle her? Spoil her? Be there for her. Make her moan? Why is he in love with her? Why can’t Suna be in love with somebody else? What does she see in Suna? He’s a lazy fuck who has a shitty sense of humor and plays Minecraft all night. His memes are stupid and he’s not even that good looking. What do you see in him? He’s so quiet and deadpanned, he always seems uninterested and bored.

But when he looks at her his eyes are brighter, he smiles more, he’s more determined during practice and games. He even talks more, and you understand. And if you don’t you don’t mind listening to him explain.

He felt a pain in his stomach at the thought of you kissing Suna the first time he announced you were both together. He then thought about your smile and your smirk when you challenged him. He remembered the time you stayed late with him to practice Jump floats because he was shit and you were an expert. Suna said he was leaving but secretly waited outside just so Atsumu wouldn’t have to walk you home because surprisingly you lived ridiculously close to him and Suna didn’t want Atsumu to know where you lived.

He remembered the late night tutor sessions and when you would sit across from him. The dining table was small and your smooth leg would touch his but you would apologize and moved your legs.

He thought he only wanted you for your body and innocence but it turns out that he was experiencing the feeling of unrequited love and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to survive if he sees you kiss Suna one more time.

Is this what his fans feel? If so he feels bad for them.

This feeling fucking sucks.

Previously

Up next

Masterlist

A/N: thanks for over 350 followers!! I didn’t even notice since I don’t care about my follow count but I just wanted to say that I do appreciate it!

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 21: Prinxiety (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Combine two soulmate prompts. (This will make sense soon, I promise.)

It’s the sequel you’ve all been waiting for! This is the second part to day 16 (read that first!!!!!), and y’all finally get to see what happened to Virgil! Please heed the trigger warnings below.

TRIGGER/content WARNINGS!! Anxiety, food mention, crappy foster system/group homes, implied past abuse, religious guilt/negative view of religion, homophobia, conversion therapy/abuse, starvation, sneaking medication (antipsychotics/side effects), electrocution, seizure, ambulance. I’m sorry. 

Word count: 3.8k

Unlike most kids in the foster system, Virgil didn’t know his birthday. He knew it was sometime in December, but that didn’t do much. Technically, birthdays weren’t really a huge thing anyways, not when the group home he rarely left was awfully underfunded, and a party came second to little things like working sinks and clothes without holes. Even still, all the other kids at least got a little cupcake and a half hearted birthday song on their special day, and his festivities were pushed onto Christmas. He didn’t get a weak excuse for a celebration, because the other kids ‘found it unfair’ that he got that and Christmas in the same month. To prevent an upheaval, the workers told him that he’d just have to be happy with what he got.

But it wasn’t fair, because some kids got Easter and a birthday, or Halloween and a birthday, or New Years and a birthday, and poor Virgil didn’t. The fact of the matter was, they plain didn’t like him. The other kids didn’t like that he got extra free time because of his anxiety, or was allowed to leave the table when they weren’t, and they especially didn’t like he was the youngest of the bunch. The youngest had the highest chance of getting adopted, it was just facts, so they had seemingly decided that if his stay here would be the shortest, it would be the most tortured. 

It wasn’t the shortest stay, though. With his barrage of anxiety related issues and group-home-toughened demeanor, no foster home wanted to deal with him. He was snarky, ran away, regularly got in fights with the biological children of the parents, and was promptly labeled a problem child. Eventually, it was deemed easier for him to just stay in a group home until he outgrew the system, since he seemed set to escape every other place. Virgil tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did; it was his fault, after all. As he watched all his older tormentors grow out of a crooked system, he resigned himself to the same fate. After all, he was almost sixteen now, and he knew his chances were out. So he stayed stuck in his group home, lashing out at his caretakers and therapists, refusing to eat unless it was alone in his room (technically, three kids slept in there, but he so rarely left it, and they wanted to avoid him, it was unofficially deemed his room), and listening to music on his phone.

He’d been given the phone on his fifteenth birthday, a gift from one of his caretakers. It was the cheapest piece of crap he’d ever seen, glitched out every other minute and needed to be charged at least three times a day, but it was a phone nonetheless. Granted, he had no one to text. But he had access to a computer, a totally one hundred percent legal music downloading website, and a strong sense of determination, so he’d soon filled the phone’s entire measly storage with all the music he could cram on the thing. 

That’s what he was doing on the night of December 18th, listening to his “Emo Playlist” on a pair of $4 Dollar Store earbuds, laying on his bed and finding shapes in his popcorn ceiling as the moon shone through the window. In the bunk beds across the room from him, his two other roommates were fast asleep, but he couldn’t follow suit. It was sadly normal for Virgil to have sleepless nights where no matter what, his anxious brain just wouldn’t shut off, and it just felt like one of those nights. His hands shook and his eyelids flinched every few seconds for no reason, so he turned the music just a little bit louder and tried to calm his breathing. 

It was just past 1 am when his life changed forever. 

He was on the fourth cycle of his playlist, eyes no more heavy than hours before and just as flinchy. It was just entering the “existential crisis” time of the night where he started questioning reality, and he was about to give in and start letting his mind drift to darker places, when a song distinctly not his began to play in the midst of a song switch.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don’t know you yet.

He froze, eyes suddenly wide open, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears. The song continued; not in his headphones, but in his head. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that it was his soulmate, responding, and as an afterthought, Virgil suddenly identified that today was probably his birthday. Both amazing revelations, but one was slightly more time sensitive. 

Desperately scrolling through his playlists as the song stopped after the chorus, he tried to find a song that would be an adequate introduction to this new person. When his eyes landed on a song from his Adele phase (he didn’t talk about that time) that he hadn’t had the energy to delete yet, he simultaneously groaned and grinned. Subtly meme-y, heartfelt like the song his soulmate had played, a decent greeting. He tapped play. 

Hello,

It’s me.

He hoped his soulmate had the same sense of humor of him and had actually given a laugh, since he was trying to stifle laughter behind his sleeve to avoid waking the sleeping kids. He paused after the first verse, since he didn’t really want to remember that phase of his life more than he had to, and waited for the other to play the next song. Hopefully they could work out some sort of rhythm, play songs back and forth. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

(The next song his soulmate played was an almost atrocious obviously-musical-theatre song that almost made Virgil hit his head against the wall, so he retaliated with a favorite of his, the most ear assaulting screamo he could find on his playlist.)

The clock had just passed four in the morning when there was a small pause in the routine, before his soulmate played a children’s lullaby. It definitely wasn’t something you’d listen to in everyday life, so Virgil could only assume it was the other’s way of indicating that they had to sleep. As if I’m going to let you go that easily, Virgil smirked, opening YouTube and begging that the video he’d chosen would play without an ad.

It did, filling his crackling, cheap earbuds with the opening chorus of Baby Shark. Fight fire with fire, he decided, chuckling to himself as he turned off the song just before the ‘mommy shark’ verse. Silence filled his head and he mentally wished the other a good night, turning onto his stomach and screaming into his pillow, grinning madly. 

Eight months later, their new way of life was deeply imbedded into him; getting woken up at asscrack o’clock in the morning by a worker who wanted to be there as much as he did, and either playing his morning playlist to get himself slightly more ready to face another monotonous day or waiting in silence until his soulmate woke up and played their own music. He’d begrudgingly started to even enjoy the showtunes. Everyone around the home had noticed his gradual shift in attitude, and he couldn’t help the natural smiles that pulled at his cheeks when a new song played out of nowhere. It got to the point where his therapist noticed his lifted mood, and the other kids stopped avoiding him and, unknown to Virgil, his social workers decided that he was ready to try another foster home. 

That’s why, eight months later, there was a knock on his bedroom door and his main worker poked in her head, asking him to come downstairs. He’d been playing music for his soulmate, so he silently apologized and joined her at the dining room table, giving her a half hearted smile. 

“Virgil, we’ve found a new home for you. A foster home that specializes in… harder to place cases. They’ve opened their doors to you, and we’re hoping to get you into a trial period there within the next week.”

At first, Virgil vehemently refused. No. He didn’t want to go back to foster homes, not after… everything he went to in the first few. The ones that hurt him, the ones that were more densely crowded than group homes, the ones that turned him into the angry shell he was before he had met a sign of a possibly happy future. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made. 

But Bev looked so hopeful, so pleadingly at him, that he gave in after three days of denying. He said goodbye to the kids he’d unfortunately grown attached to, threw his few belongings into a black garbage bag, and got into his worker’s car for the first time in years. Just rebuckling that seatbelt caused a shudder to run up his spine. 

------1 month later------

“Virgil, what are you doing? Do you have earbuds in? We’ve made it abundantly clear that you are not to have technology at the table.”

Virgil fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes, flicking his hair behind his ears to show they were empty. It had gotten long and shaggy, just reaching his jaw in the back. “No earbuds. My soulmate’s listening to music, and it’s catchy.” Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t been caught bopping along to silence before by the stiflers. 

They were nice enough, a woman and a man and their two biological children, but they were too religious for Virgil’s liking. He’d never had qualms with religion before, but he had grown tired of spending Saturdays and Sundays (his only days off from their homeschool regime) in a church, surrounded by older people singing repetitive songs and being yelled at by a guy on the pulpit. Faking being sick only worked so many times before they refused to listen to his excuses. They also insisted he go to a specialized youth group on Tuesdays, but that was easy enough to escape. He just waved by and booked it to the closest 7/11 when they left, making sure he was back at the church by the time it was over and made up some bullshit about the gathering. Jameson, the attendant at the gas station, was becoming the closest friend he’d ever had. 

“Your soulmate?” One of the children asked around a bite of toast, spitting a decent amount onto Virgil’s sleeve. 

“Like daddy and I, Mariam.” The woman explained briefly, not bothering to chastise her about speaking with her mouth full. 

“Yeah.” Unlike most of the kids at his old group home, he wasn’t warming up to theirs. They were too spoiled, too bratty. One had even bit him in his first week here and he was still bitter about it. 

“When did you connect with yours, Virgil?” The question wasn’t asked kindly, more for the sake of being polite, and he assumed if he didn’t answer in an equally polite tone, they’d probably make him paint a fence or something. 

He knew they cared about his bond about as much as he did about theirs. Which was approximately none. The mom took her children’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, Virgil quickly following suit. No use losing more computer time because he didn’t clean his plate.  

“Last December. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, and they started playing music out of nowhere. It was pretty cool.” He finished rinsing off his plate and was confused at the sudden stillness in the room.

“‘They’?” The mom asked, giving her husband what she must have believed to be a subtle glance.

“Uhm… yeah?” Virgil said slowly, “I’m bisexual. So I’m not sure if my partner’s a guy or a girl or… something in between. So… they?” 

He stared with rising anxiety as the two parents had a silent interaction over the kitchen island, before the dad stood up. “Kids, plates in the sink and then go get ready for church. Virgil, you too.”

There was minimal whining as the younger ones did as they were asked, racing each other up the stairs. Virgil followed, slower, listening to hushed beginnings of a conversation, unable to fight the feeling that he’d just royally fucked up. 

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

“Virgil, may we speak with you for a moment?”

He froze, slowly turning from where he’d been half way up the stairs. They’d just wrapped up lessons for the day (Virgil never thought he’d miss an actual school building before, but alas) and the kids had been excused, leaving just him and the parents behind. It had been almost a week since the incident, and a part of him had been hoping they’d just drop it. There wasn’t much they could do, anyways; if their religion conflicted so badly with his sexuality, the worst they would do is send him back to the home anyways. In all honesty, he kind of hoped they would. He was sick of being here, and it was better for his record if he didn’t run. 

Not that it mattered much anymore. He was almost aged out of the system anyways. 

He took a cautious seat back at the dining room table, which they had just cleared from classes. The mom sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully, as the dad began to speak.

“We spoke with our pastor the other day, and we think it would be best if we put you in therapy.”

“I don’t…” He’d stopped regular therapy at the group home almost a month before coming here, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d need to go back. He definitely wasn’t happy here, but he didn’t figure a grumpy mood was enough to warrant counseling. “I don’t understand.”

“After… what you told us? About your… urges-”

“Urges.” He couldn’t help his own disgusted tone. Of course they were homophobic.

“Yes. Our pastor suggested we try conversion therapy.”

Virgil scoffed, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding, “Right. As if you could ever get my social workers to approve that. Ward of the state, remember?” He tapped his chest a couple times.

“Fortunately, we already talked to your social worker, Virgil. We had it approved just this morning.” The man finally stopped, as if waiting for a response.

Virgil’s eyes grew wide as he looked frantically between the two of them, the woman quickly avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t normal. 

“There’s no way in hell that you-”

“Profanity, Virgil!” The man barked and Virgil shrank back in his chair, impulsively ducking to avoid a fist that didn’t come. They hadn’t hit him so far, but old habits die hard. “We’ve already signed you up. Your first session is tomorrow. First thing’s first-” He stood up, reaching a hand out to a still-shaking Virgil, “Hand over your phone.”

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

His hair was short now. Shorter than he could ever remember it being. He missed his bangs, he missed the tiny boosts of confidence it gave him when the rest of his appearance disgusted him. Now there was nothing for his hands to run through. There was no style to it, just an electric razor in the hands of his silent foster mother. He should have fought it, he really should have, but he was shaking far too much to try to move.

He didn’t like hands so near his throat. 

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

Surely, his social worker didn’t approve of this. The only explanation Virgil could possibly rationalize was they’d lied about the purpose of the therapy, or the method, or something. But any type of change in a foster kid's life had to go through about a million different levels to get approved, so how the hell were they getting away with this?

It wasn’t too bad. A lot of it was using religious guilt, something Virgil did not have much of, saying he was immoral and inhumane. The rest of it was just his new therapist trying to dig into his supposed ‘trauma’ that made him ‘this way’, as if there was something that caused it. They talked a lot about his old foster homes, and his therapist seemed positive something there had to be the root to everything. It made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that they still hadn’t given his phone back, and they confined him to his room when he wasn’t doing school work at the kitchen table. He could hear the way his soulmate was losing morale, the longer he didn’t respond. The songs were darker, and were few and far between. They still refused to play songs on what he’d called ‘his days’.

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

His ‘therapy’ had ended hours ago, and yet he couldn’t stop twitching. Every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, it was like the electrodes were attached to him again. The images they’d shown him flashed before his eyes, of men kissing, holding hands, and were quickly followed by the sharp sting of electric shocks. He couldn’t close his eyes without flinching violently, no music to calm his nerves.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

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

He held to the music like an anchor, soaking in every rare song his soulmate played like a sponge. It was his only relief from the hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t been allowed to eat at all in the day leading up to another therapy session. Apparently they wanted to put him on some kind of medication, try to increase the intensity of his sessions. It was getting to the point where Virgil was tempted to pretend it was working just to make them stop. 

He missed his soulmate. 

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

No. He’d said no to the drugs. They wanted to put him on anti-psychotics, claiming he was severely mentally ill, and he’d downright refused. There was no way in hell he was going on anti-psychotics. Finally, after days of their demanding being met with stubbornness, they’d given in. 

That had been a month ago. Maybe. Time had gotten kind of funny, like in that limbo between Christmas and New Years, or in the depths of summer break. It had been a while, for sure. They still fed him so rarely a growling stomach was more common than a full one, claiming it was part of his new therapy. He couldn’t help wonder why he was gaining weight, though. He’d been underweight for a majority of his life, thanks to a constantly overworking metabolism and genetics, along with the nasty food they served at group homes that he gladly avoided, but he was starting to fill out slightly. His ribs were barely showing. 

That would be a symptom of being on antipsychotics, he knew from previous research. But he wasn’t on them, so why…?

He took another sip of his apple juice his foster mom had brought him, trying to focus on his homework. Had apple juice always tasted that bitter?

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

They’d gone too far this time, Virgil knew that much. Curse his stubbornness, his inability to just lie and go along with it. He could have just claimed the conversion therapy was working, ‘oh golly, I’m healed!’, and go on with his life, finally talk to his fucking social worker, but no. He wasn’t capable of that. 

They’d shown him more pictures, shocking him more frequently, refusing to stop the session even as tears streamed down his face. It just hurt so bad. Then he remembered a shout (maybe his own?), blinding pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in his foster dad’s car. He said he’d had a seizure, but he was okay now, so they were heading home. A cup of water was forced down his throat and he was laid down in bed, commanded to rest. He was so confused, but also so tired, so he let his eyes drift shut. 

Just before he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he heard a soft melody drift through his mind as his soulmate played another song. It had been so long since the last time he’d heard them play music… despite his exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

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

The days had been a bit of a blur since his seizure. It was probably because his brain had done the human equivalent to ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’, but even that was hazy in his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, to rest, to not have to do the school work that they were still shoving down his throat. From where he was laying motionless in his bed, he watched the slowly setting sun dip below the horizon. 

There was a knock at the door downstairs. Virgil flinched from the noise, triggering a series of twitches down his spine and into his limbs. People were talking downstairs. He could distinctly hear the voice of his foster parents, but the others were unfamiliar. They were getting louder, near shouting, and there were pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs and down his hallway. 

He couldn’t even find the energy to be scared as his door was thrown open and a man’s voice shouted, “He’s in here!”. A flurry of people stormed into the room, the ones in the lead dressed in blue. 

Clambering, people shifting to make space, a woman holding his hand. She was asking him questions as they loaded him into a stretcher and he tried his best to answer, but he was just so tired. His name was said multiple times, as well as the names of his foster parents, but it was hazy, so hazy… 

“We were just trying to help, I didn’t want this to happen, I don’t-”

“Quiet, woman!”

She raised her voice but it was growing farther away. Virgil realized with a start that he was looking at the sky, bumping along on the gravel path, the bright lights of an ambulance flashing across his vision. 

The husband shouted again, trying to silence his wife. That was the last thing Virgil heard as the doors slammed shut, and he finally allowed his eyes to close. 

Part 3 HERE

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[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Float (fred x reader)

note: Totally did not intend for this to be that long.

summary: You are a professional Quidditch player. You and your best friend transfer to Hogwarts and meet Fred and George Weasley.

"Hogwarts?! Mom, you can't be serious!" You said. "I'm sorry dear but the next expedition is in England." Your father sighed. "Come on! I'm a professional player I can't just leave!" You said. "Dumbledore said he'd allow you to professionally play for your house." Your mother said. You huffed leaning back into your seat. "Plus, with your insanity I think they'll find you refreshing. It's not like you'll be the only one there, Lizzie is going with you." Your father reminded. It did help that your best friend was going with you to England after throwing a "bitch fit" for being possibly separated from you. "'my insanity' has a name. The Quidditch Free Fall." You reminded. "Yes we're aware of the name dear, it doesn't stop it from being terrifying!" Your mother said. "I didn't time it right once!" You sighed. "And you broke your wrist!" Your father said. The Quidditch Free Fall was made when you went a ridiculous height to spot a snitch and actually jumped off your broom, hitting the ground with it in your mouth. The actual move though, became a move you'd use regularly where you'd resummon the broom so you wouldn't it the ground but land back on your broom.

You sat in the car with Lizzy, looking at the English Architecture around you. "....Excited?" Lizzie asked. ".... As long as I can play quidditch I think I'll be fine." You admitted. "You only think about Quidditch Y/n... What about boysss?" She asked. You rolled your eyes. "Whatever. They're so... Annoying to me." You laughed. "Because at ilvermorny pranksters were... Bleh?" She asked. "Okay, firepoppers on a toilet seat is funny, how did no one find that funny!?" You asked. "Again. Ilvermorny. No sense of humor." She reminded. "You better not get into more trouble Y/n." Your mother sighed as they pulled into King's Cross. "alright! Alright...." You lied. Lizzie saw that glint of "oh I know I'm going to fuck shit up" in your eyes making her roll her eyes and look away. You got your things, running through the wall after hugging your parents goodbye. You and Lizzie exchanged a "holy shit that's cool" look after seeing the Hogwarts Express. You got on the train, sitting in an empty cart as Lizzie read. The door slid open and you looked over. "My bad! Thought my brother was in here, turns out it's just two beautiful girls." The boy flirted. You snorted. "Tell me that line hasn't worked." You said. ".... You're American?" He asked. "Oh really? What gave it away?" Lizzie asked sarcastically making you snort. "FRED. RUN." A identical boy said. "What did you do?" Fred asked. "PUT TREVOR IN DRACO'S BAG." he said. "WEASLEY!" you heard a shout from the other side of the train and you smirked. So they're pranksters... Oh you were so going to love these guys. "Hide in here." You suggested. George didn't hesitate, sitting down immediately and picking up a vacant newspaper to cover his face. Fred sat next to you. "I'm Y/n." You introduced. "Fred. And that's George." Fred motioned to his brother. You handed him a newspaper and he took it, following his brother's idea. A blonde boy soon opened the door. "HAVE YOU SEEN TWO RED HAIRED DEMONS!?" Draco asked. "No?" You responded confused. "They can't hide forever!" He growled before walking away. The second the door slid back, the cart erupted into laughter. "I feel like I recognize you." George finally said after you all recovered from laughing. "I'm a professional quidditch player." You admitted. "Oh shit, you're the Free Faller!" George said. "Yep!" You nodded. "Wicked." Fred nodded. "what about you?" George asked. "I'm just the best friend that tries to keep her out of trouble. She's like you two. A troublemaker." Lizzie said. Fred's interest was peaked. "A trouble maker you say?" He asked. "Yep." You chuckled. "You like pranks?" George asked. "Love them." You answered. "You should stick with us then. You'll live on the edge of your seat!" Fred said. "Count me in. Actually I have a bit of an... Entrance planned." You said with a smirk. "Entrance?" George asked with a smile. "Y/n no." Lizzie said. "I want to and you can't stop me." You said sticking your tongue out. "What's the plan?" Fred asked. "I'm riding in on my broom." You said. "Oh that's cool! After all you're a--" "Quidditch player!" Fred, you and George said in unison with nods. "See they think it's cool!" You said lightly kicking Lizzie. "When you get in trouble I'm not bailing you out." She said. "Nah, Dumbledore would expect nothing less." George said. "Does she have a record?" Fred asked. "Not that big--" "Yes. It's like a fucking novel." Lizzie answered. "Then he's definitely not going to be surprised." George said.

When you two were later called to be introduced to Ravenclaw, Lizzie simply walked to the front. You sprinted forward, summoning your broom to your side and riding it to the front quickly and with style. "Damn it Y/n." Lizzie sighed as you hopped off with a chuckle. She picked an owl feather out of your hair and Dumbledore chuckled. "It is my pleasure to introduce Elizabeth Miles and Y/n L/n." He said. Everyone started talking. "The Y/n L/n!?" Ron asked. "Yep." You nodded. "Your houses were sorted when you visited last week, correct?" Dumbledore asked. You nodded, pointing to the table adorned with blue. "Ravenclaw." You said. "In advance I apologize for my best friend." Lizzie said to Dumbledore. "Any chance I can sit with Gryffindor because I met two kids there and I think they're cool?" You asked. "We don't mind interactions of separate houses. Go ahead." Dumbledore said. You walked over to Fred who had a smirk on his face. "Nice entrance." Fred said. "why thank you my dear." You said tipping a pretend hat to him. "So you're the professional player?" A boy asked. "Yep. Proud to be one." You said with a laugh. "This is my brother Ron, over there is my sister Ginny and these are my family friends Harry and Hermione." Fred said. "Yo." You waved. "Are you excited to be here?" Ginny asked. "Eh. I'm already enjoying the fact that there's two pranksters here. Ilvermorny had like zero sense of humor." You said. "I'm still trying to figure out a good prank." George said. "I'm thinking we screw up the sinks." You suggested. "Why's that?" Fred asked. "Weak pipes...a explosion and poof.... Water everywhere." You said with a smirk. "Fred... I love this girl." George said. "Meet us tomorrow at three... This is going to be bloody brilliant." Fred said with a chuckle. Sure enough. Around four, Snape tried to use the sink and bam... Water explosion while you were all waiting for him in potions. "What's taking him so long?" Lizzie asked. Fred exchanged a knowing glance with you before the door opened and he walked in soaked. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. "...Due to... Complications... Class is cancelled." Snape said, dismissing everyone. You walked out, Fred, George and you all dying of laughter. "Poor Snape. Bastard looked ready to murder someone." Fred said with a laugh. You smiled... This guy had a nice laugh. "We couldn't have done it without the brains of Y/n!" George said putting a hand on your shoulder. You took a bow making them chuckle.

From that point on the duo became a trio. "The mischievous three" Mcgonagall called you. But with every prank, you seemed to get closer and closer to Fred. George noticed you two, exchanging laughs and smiles. He knew immediately that you two were bound to be something. Finally though, quidditch season started. You seemed to be bouncing that day, sharing the field with Gryffindor. "So. Miss professional." Wood said after laughing at a joke George made. "Would you mind showing us that move?" He asked. You shook your head. "My secret weapon? Now that's just wrong." You laughed. Fred smiled at your laughter making George smirk. "You're really good at flying." Harry said. "Thanks, took years to master. I used to be really crappy at it actually." You said. "Really?" George asked. "Oh yeah. I ran into everything, hurt myself really bad at one point. But I kept trying and eventually I wasn't so bad anymore." You shrugged. "How'd you become a professional?" Wood asked. "Went up against Durmstrang a few years ago and made a sonic boom." You said. "A what?" Harry asked. "It's when you basically move faster than the speed of sound and you send a shock through the air. Sounds like thunder." You explained. "And you did that?" Wood asked. "Yeah. The the professional spectators were really interested after that, next thing I knew I was basically signed on to do quidditch after school was finished and I would sometimes go to bigger games." You explained. "Wow." Fred said. "Yeah. Ilvermorny though... They're so.... Academic. Compared to here they're so... Boring." You shrugged. The next game, Harry got a taste of why you were a professional. You were quick for a seeker, but it's how high you'd go for that snitch that surprised everyone. The snitch was spotted 30 minutes into the game, you and Harry both going after it. It shot up though and you didn't stop until your broom couldn't take the height and just stopped flying. You almost seemed to run up the hilt before gripping the snitch and pushing off, away from the broom and rapidly falling towards the broom. People stood up, watching you fall and maintain the same position before screaming "UP!" and your broom shot out, you gripping it before almost hitting the ground, making the crowd erupt into cheers as you held the snitch. You didn't celebrate with Ravenclaw though, instead you hung out with Fred. "Congratulations Y/n. You weren't joking about that move." Fred said. "Yeah." You chuckled. "How'd you come up with that anyway?" Fred asked. "Well... I was in a particularly challenging match against the Thunderbirds. I was a seeker and so was this guy Jamie. So I was waiting to see the golden snitch when some girl hexed my broom. In the middle of the chaos I noticed the snitch and I had to think quick so..." "You let go." Fred nodded. "Exactly. After I did I didn't exactly do what I did earlier and resummoned my broom I actually ended up breaking my arm after hitting the ground." You said earning a wince from Fred. "What inspired you to make it a move though?" Fred asked. "something about the chaos of it seemed really appealing. making people think that I was falling rather than actually chasing after the snitch seemed like a good plan so.... I started to get really well acquainted with the broom that I was using at the time and before I knew it I was able to basically resummon it whenever I wanted to." You explained. "Smart. I'm beginning to understand why you're in Ravenclaw." He said earning a laugh from you. "I hope you're not upset over me winning..." You said. "Psh. That was epic, how could I possibly be mad at that. I just hope I live to see you do another sonic boom." He chuckled. "The last time I did it it was an accident and I don't know how to trigger another one." You admitted. "with how brilliant your brain is I guarantee you you could figure it out" Fred said making you blush. George sat down in front of you making you look at him. "So, what'd I miss?" He asked. "Congratulating Y/n on her win." Fred said. "Mmm. I've been thinking about our school trip." George said. "Trip?" You asked. "Yeah, we're going to Hogsmeade." Fred nodded. "What the hell is Hogsmeade?" You asked. "Small village. Really fun." George said.

Sure enough during the winter, it actually was. You spent it with the twins, laughing at stupid jokes and drinking butterbeer. You shivered at the snow and Fred wrapped his scarf around you, smiling as you blushed. You kept close to him the whole time, even having a snowball fight at one point. You had the best year of your life, pranks, friends, finally something new.

But your parents were ready to move. Again. "no." You said. "Y/n--" "me and Lizzie were given the opportunity to stay with someone else's family, please I don't want to leave again!" You snapped. Your mother sighed. "....Fine. who's the parents." She asked. So she sat down and asked Arthur and Molly if they'd take you two. Which they said yes. Because it's Molly. When would she ever say no? However now Fred was panicked. "WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO GEORGE?! MY CRUSH IS LIVING WITH ME!?" He asked frantically. "First off, calm down. Second off, maybe this is good. You're not exactly bad with girls Fred." George said. "I flirt, sure. But this is... This is different." Fred admitted. "How so?" Ginny asked, sitting on Fred's bed eating a cookie. "...I think I love her." He said making George gape and Ginny nearly drop her cookie. "You love her?" Ginny asked. "Maybe? And she's coming here tomorrow." Fred whined. "Well it's not like she's staying in here, she's bunking with me, along with Lizzie. She did say something weird in her letter though." Ginny said. "Wait, she wrote to you?" George asked. "Lizzie did. But she said Y/n had a surprise for all of us." Ginny said. "A love confession?" George asked, making Fred smack him. "She said all of us. Mum and Dad included." Ginny said. Sure enough, the next day you showed up with something in your hand. "What's that?" Fred asked after helping you with your bags. "Tickets." You said. "For what?" George asked. "The world Quidditch cup. I'm playing for Ireland." You said with a smirk. "....Wait so we're--" "Going to the big leagues!" Lizzie said enthusiastically. "HOLY CRAP!" Ron gaped. "annnnddd I even got extra tickets for Hermione and Harry." You said making Ron hug you. You giggled and Fred smiled.

So there you were, standing in a stadium practically shaking. You were in the big leagues now. You swallowed the forming lump in your throat before seeing Fred. You gave a him a smile and felt a surge of confidence before flying up. You versus Viktor Krum. You sat on your broom waiting patiently, occasionally moving out of the way for other players before you noticed something behind Viktor's head. You gripped your broom handle and shot down, following the snitch. He was on your tail, making you anxious as hell as the snitch flew up. You shot upwards, the snitch flying very high into the air. Fred watched you, knowing damn well you were going to do the "Free Fall". You went so high the broom literally seemed to just stop working as you ran up it's side and gripped the snitch before falling. Your broom was next to you, air seeming to bend around your body. That's when Fred realized what was about to happen. "COVER YOUR EARS!" He warned. Everyone near that heard him did, slightly confused before a loud noise sounded off, similar to a clap of thunder before you smirked, gripping your broom and finally returning to the normal position. You held up the snitch and the crowd roared. Course you couldn't hear anything because the noise made your ears ring, but when you finally returned to the tent you were smiling with a medal around your neck. "there's our champion!" Arthur said. Fred scooped you up into a hug and you smiled, squealing with a giggle. "I am on cloud nine right now! I can't believe I did it!" You said. "You made a sonic boom Y/n, that was the most extraordinary thing I've seen!" Hermione said. "Yeah, my ears were ringing for a while there." You admitted. "Everyone at Hogwarts is not going to shut up about this for a while." Lizzie chuckled. "Course not, not only is she the youngest player out there but she's also the reason they won." Ron said. "Makes me wish you were with Gryffindor... We're really screwed when we have to go up against you." Harry said. "Nah, you keep me on my toes Potter." You said with a chuckle. "Dad will probably want your autograph. Mind if you sign this?" Harry asked, holding a notepad. "What's your dad's name again?" You asked. "James." Harry nodded. "To James. Thanks for giving me a cool brother." You wrote making Harry smile as you ruffled his hair. "Excuse me." A voice said making you all turn. "Viktor... Krum." Ron gaped. "Hello. Uh.... English is not my first language forgive me." He apologized. "Hello." You nodded. "I just want to say, I look forward to going to school with you this year." He said. "What?" Everyone asked. "The Triwizard tournament is at Hogwarts this year, yes I heard." Arthur said. "Yes... Hopefully we will work with you miss Y/n." He said. "Good game Krum. You did amazing out there." You said shaking his hand. He seemed fixated on Hermione though, making you smile. "Hermione! This is Viktor Krum. Talk." You said, pushing her forward. "Uhm... Hello?" She said confused. Fred chuckled as you sat down. "I still cannot believe I won." You said. "I can. I knew you could do Y/n." Fred said sitting next to you at the table. "I was so nervous the whole time... I'm just glad you guys came. It would've sucked if you didn't." You said. "why didn't your parents come?" Arthur asked. "They're archeologists sir, they do scientific work across the world... They're in Egypt this year it's why they couldn't be here." You admitted. Fred smiled and put his hand over yours. "We're proud of you Y/n." He said sincerely making you blush. Arthur smiled and got up, leaving you two alone. "So what do you want to do?" Fred asked. "hmm... I saw Draco here... Think we can fuck with him?" You asked. "Oh absolutely. George!" Fred said with a laugh. George walked over, noticing Fred's hand still on yours. "Yeah?" George asked. "Wanna screw with Malfoy's head for a bit?" Fred asked. "Is this even a logical question?" George asked. You three managed to rig a drink that exploded in Draco's face, making him pissed. The worst part was that he couldn't actually figure out if you were behind it.

The school year finally started, all of you already aware of the competition. A few students congratulated you on the win before sitting in the great hall. The Beauxbatons sat with Ravenclaw but you sat between Hermione and Fred, moving at one point so Viktor could sit with Hermione. "So think you'll compete?" Fred asked you, nodding to the goblet of fire. "Hell no. I get embarrassed still over recognition of quidditch. This competition would literally make me want to die." You said. "We'll definitely try to compete." George said. "A competition that definitely violates some sort of safety code? Why am I not surprised?" Lizzie said. "Oh come on Y/n. You'd have this thing in the bag." Fred said. "you have more confidence than I do." You chuckled. "Because I know you can do it." He said, very close to your ear. You blushed, his voice sending shocks down your spine. "... I'll sign up..." You said. You were the first to put your name in the goblet, Viktor following soon after. A few other students put their names in the cup but you thought nothing of it. Until that stupid name pull. "Viktor Krum for Durmstrang." Dumbledore called, earning an applause. "Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons." He said. "And Y/n L/n for Hogwarts." "WHAT!?"

So now you were really fucked. How the fuck were you supposed to participate in this competition!? "This is bad." You said pacing in the Gryffindor common room. "Y/n, it's not that bad, I mean you're talented! You'll be fine!" Lizzie reasoned. "No, Lizzie I will not be fine! I know you read books! I know you know how dangerous this competition is!" You said. "So why'd you sign up!?" Ron asked. Fred said nothing, reading a book and turning it's page with a small smile on his lips. "I just... I figured with the amount of students already here I'd have no shot at winning." You said. "but here we are." George said. "What even is that first challenge anyway?" Hermione asked.

The answer was dragons. Dragons were the fucking challenge. You all had to draw small baby dragons from a bag and find out which one you'd be in a ring with. Yours was a Hungarian Horntail. Of course you ended up with the most dangerous dragon. God damn it. Fred sat next to George in the stands, raising a brow. ".... What's that?" He asked noticing his brother Charlie wheeling a large box out. Oh no. Not a good sign. Definitely not a good sign. He got up, going to the tents where he knew you'd be to find you pacing. "Y/n." He called making you turn. "Fred. Thank God." You said hugging him. "I saw my brother Charlie and knew something was up. What's going on?" He asked. "I have to retrieve something from a dragon Fred. A dragon!" You said. "Well as long as it isn't a Hungarian--" "It's a Hungarian Horntail." You said. "....Fuck that isn't good." He sighed. "Any chance they'll let you back out?" He asked. "No.... I've tried." You breathed. "I can't do this Fred." You said, panic in your eyes. "You can... And you will." He said holding your hands. "And if I fail?" You asked. "Then I'm right here. Any time you need me." He said softly before the sound of a camera went off. Rita. God damn it. "We're dealing with something woman, move." Fred snapped. "Rude... But this is a definite scoop." She giggled before running off. "Oh God I'm not living that down." You whined. "Love, you've got this." He said. "Wait did you--" "Y/n. It's your turn." Viktor coughed out. Oh that's a reassuring thing to see. A fellow competitor looking like he walked through fire with a fucking egg. You sucked in a breath. "I'm right here." Fred said softly. "Well I mean I'll be in the stands but you get my point." He corrected. You nodded as he left and you got ready to walk into the ring. Fred sat back down and you swallowed hard, staring at the dragon. You could do this right!?

Well after being winded from being slammed into a rock you most definitely thought you couldn't. You coughed and looked at Fred. He was giving you a reassuring (yet slightly panicked) look. "That all you've got scaly!?" You coughed out. It geared up to breathe fire and you ducked behind a rock. You had to think and you had to think fast. What could get you out of this!?

That's when it hit you. Your broom. "ACCIO FIREBOLT!" you screamed before your broom shot out and floated towards you. You could feel the heat of the flame behind the rock before you jumped on your broom, earning a large cheer from the crowd. You were safe! Thank God! Now Fred could BREATHE. That's when the dragon's chain decided to snap. "Oh fuck." You whined before shooting off  past the stands. "OH FUCK!" you screamed as the dragon also hightailed after you. You flew to the school, trying to avoid being killed before you were slammed into a tower. "Oh shit, that's going to cost them a few pennies." You said before you lost your grip. "SHIT!" you gasped before bringing your broom closer. You flew out of the way, going through many different areas before finally throwing the dragon off. Fred was freaking out, you not in sight. "Oh God George, I convinced her to do this, what if she's hurt!? What if she's--" "SHE'S THERE!" Hermione pointed as you  flew into the arena grabbing the egg.

You went back to the tents, covered in dirt and bits of roof shingle on your coat. "Christ." You muttered dusting yourself off before Fred ran in. "You did it!" He said. "Yeah! Ow." You winced holding your wrist. "What happened!?" Fred asked, clearly concerned. "Nothing! I just... I hit my wrist on one of the towers before I could actually get away from the dragon." You admitted. Madame Pomfrey looked at it. "Oh this is a simple fix. It's just bruised, take one of these." She said handing you a gummy. You nodded and within seconds the pain was gone. "See I'm fine-" Fred put his hands on the sides of your face, looking into your eyes. "Try not to get yourself killed in this... Please." He said. "...I... I will try." You nodded. He was so tempted to kiss you. But he refrained seeing as Rita Skeeter could be around the corner. He let go of your face and you swallowed hard.

The celebration of you winning was loud, earning you leaving and sitting in the halls while everyone else was losing their mind. You looked at the egg and rose a brow opening it to hear shrieking. "What the fuck!?" You gasped. This had to have some sort of purpose. Especially that shrieking. That egg opened for some reason. So why? "...I need to get this muffled..." You said getting up. So you went to the bathrooms, filling up the bath with water before going in. You put the egg underwater, before poking your head under too.

After listening to it song you concluded that the next challenge with most likely be at the lake. You sighed, standing out in the cold air. "Where's Fred?" You asked George. "I don't know. One of the faculty members said that he was needed for something and he just disappeared and never came back." Lizzie said. You looked in the water. "have I mentioned how much I hate this competition?" You asked. "only every other day." George nodded. "You've got this Y/n!" Ron encouraged. "Yeah, you're going to do fine!" Harry said. Neville managed to hand you something, something that would allow you to swim underwater without needing to come up for air. You jumped in as the sound went off, swimming in the lake. It was dark, cold and murky. Who in the fuck thought that this competition would be a fun idea for children!? You swam in the water for a while, following the other competitors and finding out exactly what you were there for. Fred. Fred was there. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." You thought. You managed to get him free, being the first to come up with someone. Fred coughed and you sighed climbing out of the water. Viktor soon emerged with Hermione. But Fleur came back empty-handed. And you recalled seeing a child down there. "I couldn't get Gabrielle!" She whimpered. You looked at her and then the lake. "stupid morals" it was all anybody heard you say before you jumped right back in. Everyone ran to the edge to see you. Right now it was a waiting game.

One that didn't take very long considering you came back up within fifteen minutes with Gabrielle. Fleur hugged you as you coughed up water and shivered. Fred shared his towel with you, wrapping it around your arms and looking at you. "That was so stupid." He laughed. "I know." You shivered. "But it was brave. And for that, I've got to say you're killing this competition." Fred said making you laugh. You looked in his eyes, the water dripping from his hair. "Congratulations! You survived!" Lizzie said. "Yeah and I'm fucking cold, can I please get some coffee?" You asked making Fred laugh. "Agreed" he nodded.

As school continued it was becoming clear there was some stupid dance coming up. It was basically thrown in your face when McGonagall forced dance classes on you. Fred being your partner made it more bearable though. He was a surprisingly good dancer, him being the one to teach you. "So the Yule is coming up." He said swaying with you. He twirled you and you chuckled before he pulled you very close to him, facing you against him. "Would you like to go with me?" He asked in your ear making your face very red from the blushing. "....Uhm... Y-Yeah s-sure." You stuttered out. For God's sakes-- woman you fought a dragon, but you can't handle your crush being close to you!? "Great." He said, now directly into your ear. Your legs felt so weak right now but he twirled you again so you'd be facing him. "Uhm... F-Fred what are... What are we going as?" You asked. Fred smiled, his hands in yours as you swayed. "Well, we could always prove Rita's theory of us dating to be true. But only if you want to." He said. You swallowed and nodded. "You want to?" He asked. "words aren't forming. Legs weak. Going down." You said. "What--" you fell, making both of you fall and Fred laughed. "Well if I knew asking you out had that effect I wouldn't have done this in a dance class." He said getting up. You took his hand and he pulled you up, kissing you as you came back up. Your eyes were wide but you eventually sunk into it before McGonagall cleared her throat. "...Thank you for the theatrics. We have a class to teach." She said. "Sorry professor." Fred said as you sputtered like a dying engine. Fred snorted and you punched his arm.

From that point on, Fred was always giving you some sort of affection, your favorite being when he'd slink his arms around your waist as you spoke, saying "hello darling." In your ear. When the Yule finally approached you were a nervous wreck. "Y/n you can't even fuck this up. First off: you're gorgeous. Second off : you're going with your boyfriend." Lizzie said, zipping up your dress. "You never told me who you were going with." You said. "George." She said making you turn around. "Sorry. Did you just say George? As in my boyfriend's brother?" You asked. "Yep. See believe it or not, I actually spent time with your friends. George is nice to me. And cute." She said. "...This is so weird. Right?" You asked. "....Okay yes but I'm serious, George is great." Lizzie agreed.

You both walked down, the brothers waiting. "So wait you're going with my girlfriend's best friend?" Fred asked. "Yeah. She's beautiful and smart, what do you want from me?" George said. "Well a warning would've been.... Nice..." Fred said before seeing you. "Holy--" "Shit." Fred and George gaped. "Wow." Fred said looking at you. "Thank you." You chuckled. He kissed your cheek and just kept staring. "What?" You asked. "Love, you're beautiful." He said. "Thank you-- Oh that's so weird." You said looking at George who was kissing Lizzie. ".... Don't I have to present you?" Fred asked. You whined. "Why? Why me? Why did I even sign up for that stupid competition?" You sighed. "Because my persuasion skills are amazing." Fred said making you roll your eyes as you stood with the other champions and their dates. "Holy shit Hermione, you're gorgeous!" You gaped. "thank you-- wow you're beautiful too!" She said before the doors opened. "Crap." You breathed. "Any last requests?" Fred asked. "Don't let me fall." You whispered to him before walking out with the group.

You did that ridiculous dance, actually not screwing up for once. When it ended you were relieved. "Thank God. I hate ballroom dancing." You said making Fred laugh. "You did great dear." He said with a smile. You kissed him, resting your forehead on his. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life." You said softly. "I love you Y/n." Fred said. You smiled. "I love you too." You said softly. A slow song of course came on, Fred pulling you to the dance floor as he held you close, whispering sweet little compliments to you.

When the night ended you and Lizzie both had big smiles on your face, giggling and talking about the night. That night was probably the least stressful compared to the others. As the weeks went by though, the final trial was there, right in your face. You couldn't sleep that night, sitting in the astronomy tower before you heard someone walking up. You turned to see Fred. "hey beautiful." He said, sitting next to you. "Hi." You said, looking out at Hogwarts. "Nervous?" He asked. "Yes... In all of these challenges I have narrowly escaped death..." You muttered. "Nothing will happen. I won't let anything happen." Fred said. "What if you can't stop anything from happening--" "Y/n... I promise if it seems like things will go wrong I will cross through hell to make sure you're safe." He swore. "Plus. I have a good luck charm." He added before handing you a small bag. You opened it to find a leather bracelet. "Is this... The Marauders map motto?" You asked looking at him. ".... Maybe." He said with a smirk. You put it on and kissed him. "Thank you." You said. "You should try to sleep Love. Tommorow will be hard." He said. "...Stay with me?" You asked. He nodded as you both snuck into the Ravenclaw common room. The next morning you were found wrapped in Fred's arms sleeping like a baby. "Hey idiots. Wake up." Lizzie yawned, smacking Fred with a pillow. You groaned, waking up. "Fucking hell." You whined.

You stood with the rest of the competitors. You looked at Fred and kissed your bracelet. You could do this. Right? Yeah. You got this. After all, it's not like there's a dragon! Well there are vines that TRY TO CONSUME YOU IN THE FUCKING WALLS. Upon making this discovery you booked it, turning different ways before seeing it. The cup! And Viktor. Fuck. You sprinted before gripping the handle, unsure if you just tied before landing hard on the ground in front of the crowd. You were alone. Did you... Did you just... Win!? You stood up, brushing dirt off you with the cup in your other hand. Cheers erupted and you jumped. So you did win! You did it! Ayyyeeee! Dumbledore lifted your hand with the cup, declaring you the winner as the other competitors accepted defeat. "And your reward. 1000 galleons." Dumbledore said. "Wait what?" You asked.

So that summer was spent being conflicted on what to do with the money. "I don't need money though." You said to Molly. "Fred, we have another order." Lizzie said. That's when a lightbulb went off. "I KNOW WHAT TO DO!" you gasped making Fred, George, Molly and Lizzie jump. "What?" Fred asked. "A shop! You guys need a shop!" You said. ".... We're not letting you spend this money on us." George said. "Psh. Consider this a business investment." You said. "Y/n!" Fred said. "Babe, you'll actually use this! And what you don't use we can save, it's literally that simple!" You said. "And you're sure? That you want to do this!?" George asked. "After we graduate, game on." You said. "...Mum... I'm in love." Fred said making you smile as he scattered kisses across your face. Molly chuckled and shook her head.

You actually did hold your promise too, after you all graduated they got the money and bought a shop. You would work there when Quidditch season was up, usually taking stock or something. One day Fred was acting... Very strange though. George had to know what was going on. "Fred. What is up with you?" George asked. He looked across the store to see you with a clipboard taking down inventory. "not here." He said. He pulled him to the back. "I'm asking Y/n to marry me. Tonight." He said. "... you've got to be fucking joking." He said. "Well we've been together since our fifth year--" "I planned on proposing to Lizzie tonight." He said. "....Okay this whole 'twins think alike' thing is kicking our ass." Fred said. "...Okay. we take them both out to dinner and propose?" George suggested. "....Deal." Fred nodded.

And that's exactly what happened, both men acting really weird. "Okay what the hell is up with them?" You asked after witnessing Fred trip over air. "...I have no clue. George sliped up the stairs today. Up. The. Stairs. How in the absolute fuck do you fall up stairs?" She said. "...Something is going on." You said. "...And it's dealing with both of them." She said. You all were having a nice night, laughing, smiling, giving each other loving looks. Fred exchanged a look with George and both of them handed you and Lizzie boxes at the same time. You rose a brow and opened it before you gasped. "Oh my God. Fred. Are... Are you actually... Serious!?" You asked. "As serious as possible." He said. Lizzie looked at George with the same expression. "Yes!" Both of you replied in unison. Both men let out relieved sighs and you hugged Fred. "Did you two plan on asking us at the same time?" You asked. "no." Both of them admitted making you snort. "You two are idiots." Lizzie laughed. "But their our idiots." You said making Fred smile.

[noonaficcorner]

Rose-Colored Boy | Part Two

Paring: Mark Tuan | Reader

Genre/Rating: Friends to Lovers |  Fluff, Smut (later on), Slight Angst

Warning: Language

Summary: Working as a Nurse, Y/N's favorite pastime is getting lost in her favorite online game with her online gamer squad. After 2 years of online banter, Y/N finally gets the chance to get closer to and meet her online friend, Mark Tuan. With many things in common and the same twisted sense of humor, one thing still remains a mystery: Mark's career that causes him to constantly travel out of the country. Still, Y/N decides to take a chance on what could be more than just friendship and meets Mark for the first time. (New Summary thanks to a friend)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three 

It wasn’t hard to find Mark’s apartment building. Forty-five minute subway ride and a five minute walk was all it took to get from your place to his. What was hard was trying to stay calm the whole train ride into his part of town. Being so calm when saying “yes”,but freaking as you’re doing it was starting to drive you insane. As you stood in front of the fancy as fuck apartment building, questions started to flow through your head; What does he do for a living? Are his roommates going to be there? Is he hot? Hot?! That shouldn’t even matter. You weren’t on your way to a blind date. You were just meeting up with a friend. A friend that you have no idea what he looks like or if he is even an adult. Another wave of panic started to wash over you at the thought of Mark not being who he said. Your fingers started to shake as you punched in the apartment number he had given to you.

“Hello?” You knew it was his voice right away. It did nothing to calm your nerves, so when he repeated himself for a third time, you finally answered.

“Hi, it’s Y/N.” It sounded as if he let go a sigh of relief. Instead of replying, the door buzzed open and you went right in. Walking right to the elevator, you followed the directions and went to his floor. Once the elevator doors opened you couldn’t make yourself leave the box. Your finger hovered over the open doors button. Crazy, this was crazy. He wasn’t a full stranger, but you couldn’t tell your body to behave. You needed to snap out of it and slapping your cheeks and cursing yourself seemed to wake you up enough to exit.

“You got this. You’re cool, calm, and a badass.” That was the mantra you repeated to yourself as your hand lifted to the bell and next thing you knew, you heard the locks of the door start to turn. Were you breathing? Didn’t feel like it. Your eyes felt like they were seeing everything and nothing at the same time as a blond head poked out of the door.

“You’re here.” The now smiling face said to you. Was this Mark? Or was this one of his roommates? Either way, you nodded, and he opened the door further for you to enter the nicest apartment you’ve ever seen in your life. This was a vast difference from your studio.

Once the door closed you turned and noticed that he was looking nervous, his hands shoved into jean pockets and his hoodie almost swallowed him, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips.

“So… hi,” he muttered. The distance between the two of you was still more than 5 feet and you weren’t in a rush to close it. Your stomach was in knots and it was something you wish would go away.

“Y/N, say something, please. I’m going crazy wondering what’s going on in that head of yours.” His tone slightly frustrated.

“Um, you didn’t mention that you were rich. Are you a silver spoon kid?” You questioned while looking around at the nice leather furniture and what you could only assume was expensive artwork on the walls.

The mention of money had him running a hand through his highlighted hair. On a closer inspection, you could tell the blond was tinged with a fading purple. Interesting color choice.

“I’m far from rich. Just, hardworking. Umm…” You could tell he was unsure of what to say or do next. Both of you were in the same boat and you hated it. This was the person that you spent countless hours gaming and texting, it shouldn’t be this awkward.

“Do you have water or something to drink?” Before the full sentence was out your mouth, Mark was breezing pass and heading towards what you assumed was the kitchen. He returned in a matter of seconds with a bottle, untwisting and handing it over with a shy smile.

Muttering a thanks, you concentrated harder than necessary on drinking. The distance was almost nonexistent now since Mark hadn’t taken a step back yet.

“I ended up getting that keyboard I showed you.” His comment was random and it took you a second to realize he had actually spoke. Keyboard? You sprinted through your memories to understand what the hell he was talking about.

Suddenly like the typical light bulb going off, a text conversation between the two of you from last week came to mind and you groaned.

“I told you that was crappy! Why did you waste your money on it when there are better gaming keyboards on the market?”

“It glows to the imperial march. How could I not?” His smile was prominent and you wanted to just punch him to make it go away.

“That is the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard and I deal with fanboys on a regular.”

Mark laughed and went to grab said keyboard. You stepped to follow, but you thought better of it. Feeling a little more comfortable, you took a seat on the large sectional couch and sipped at your water.

Questions started to arise again. What did he do for a living or was it that his roommates were well off? What were you guys gonna do today? When would this awkwardness go away, so you could hang with the guy you’ve gotten to know?

Mark came back and fell to the couch next to you and shoved his new toy into your lap.

“Now tell me this isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever held in your hands.”

“I can confidently say this is not the sexiest thing I’ve held and you’re insane.”

He pouted at you and you couldn’t help but laugh at the boyish look on his model ready face. Who knew this was the guy you cursed out on a daily basis for messing up in the game?

“Anyway, since you’ve hurt my feelings. I was wondering if you wanted to play with me. I got a beta version of the soon-to-be released Anarchy of the Dead 2. You down?” He seemed more nervous than when you first arrived, but the mention of gaming together, something you were used to, made your grin take over your face.

“Am I a better gamer than you? That’s a yes, by the way, but I didn’t bring my laptop with me.”

“That’s fine, I have a spare I’m sure you’ll find acceptable.” He ran off to what you could assume was his room and came back with two laptops under his arm. Mark set up in the living room and the both of you leaned against the couch side by side and started the marathon of playing.

You didn’t even realize four hours had passed before your neck started to cramp up. Once you started rolling, Mark looked over and next thing you knew, one of his hands was rubbing out a tense part at the crook of your shoulder and neck. The sudden touch had you flinching and his hands left your bare skin almost as quick as they were there.

“So so sorry! I wasn’t thinking. We just met and I’m basically molesting your neck.” He apologized profusely. It was true that your flinch came more from the shock of having someone touch you, but it wasn’t from who was doing the touching. Maybe it was the past four hours that eased the awkwardness, but it felt as if things were just as if we were playing in your own rooms. Also, the pleasure that came from his skilled hands overrode any residual shock.

“No, it’s okay. You can keep going with your cold fingers.” You joked to ease his worry that he crossed the line.

“Better?” He asked with a chuckle when a small moan slipped from your lips after he went back to work.

“I know how you became rich. You give massages to old rich women and they pay you for your magic fingers and pretty flower boy face.” You muttered, your eyes shut and leaning into his rough, but needed touch.

His chuckle turned into a higher pitch laugh and you found yourself joining right in. Mark stopped his impromptu massage and paused both of your games, placing them to the side.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” The tone seemed to shift and it put you on edge. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up money again. It seemed to make him sensitive.

“Sure…” It was hard not to feel like something was about to shift from the good time that you were having.

“Um, when I opened the door… did you not, ugh. I don’t know how to word this.” You could tell he was feeling flustered. You wanted to ease the tension in the air.

“Don’t be a little bitch, just say it.” You joked with him. When playing with him, you always ended up cursing at him in some way.

His lips twitched and he took a deep breath. “You didn’t recognize me, did you?”

Recognize him? How could you recognize him if this was the first time you were meeting?

“No. Was I supposed to?”

Mark’s eyes shot up to yours and his hands landed on your shoulders. It was if he was inspecting your face for anything other than the truth you just spoke.

“Dude, you’re worrying me. What’s gotten into you?” You didn’t know how to explain it, but Mark’s face changed and he seemed more at ease.

“Nothing. You seemed so nervous earlier, I was wondering if it was because you had seen me before and didn’t want to tell me.” Mark, your friend was back and for a moment you were shaken up at the sudden shift.

Before you could respond the sound of the keypad being pressed and the door opening distracted you both. Mark immediately jumped and ran to the hallway, probably to see who it was. You wanted to follow him, but thought better of it. It was his house after all. Picking up the laptop, you tried to look and act natural, but the voices started to flow from their location.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be at the studio all night.”

“Yeah, but I got tired. Why?”

“Uhh, I have company…”

“You do?!”

With that, you heard footsteps hurry toward the room and before you had time to process what was happening, a tall figure was standing above you with a smirk covering his lips. Tall was an understatement, this guy was 70% all legs. You peered around him and saw Mark behind shaking his head and immediately you assumed this was one of his roommates.

“Hi… I’m Y/N.” Finally standing, you could see how tall this guy really was. It was a little intimidating to say the least.

“Yugyeom, the groupmate. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your brow raised as you tried to meet Mark’s wandering eyes. Group-mate? Did he mean roommate?. “Good things I hope?”

“From what this one says you’re the best one on his squad and that everyone else is scared of you.” Yugyeom boasted and that made you swell with pride. You weren’t sure if it was because Mark had obviously talked about you to his roommate or because he acknowledged your gaming skills.

“Well, he isn’t wrong. Do you play? Maybe you can see for yourself. We were just playing.” You turned to the abandoned laptops, but before you could go grab one, Mark stepped in.

“We were taking a break. Aren’t you just stopping home for a second anyway?” Something felt off between the interactions between the two roommates. You could tell that Mark felt uncomfortable, but it made no sense that Yugyeom would be the cause since they both lived here.

“You’re right. I need to head back for dance practice.” Yugyeom explained after shooting some daggers at Mark with his eyes.

“You’re a dancer? What kind?” He didn’t seem like a ballerina. Or was it boy ballerina? Though with those long legs, you could picture him doing something athletic.

Mark looked like he was about to say something, but Yugyeom got in first. “An idol dancer. I’m part of the group GOT7, with this one here. Didn’t he tell you?” He looked actually confused that you had no clue.

An idol? You looked from the two of them and then your eyes started to pick up on things. There were pictures hung with Mark and six other guys. Your eyes flew over to the bookcase and you saw what looked like awards placed on the shelves.

“You’re a… you mean you…” Words were hard as you tried to recall every conversation and interaction you’ve had with Mark over the last 2 years.

“Y/N, let me explain.” Mark came to stand next to you, but your body, acting on its own, took a step back. You weren’t scared, but you did need a moment. Stupidity and embarrassment threatened to take center stage, and you were trying to save yourself from either emotion.

“Oh, you didn’t know. My bad…” Yugyeom apologized as he started to back out of the room. But, it was as if he wasn’t even there anymore. Once your eyes met with Mark’s you could see the worry behind them.

Your own emotions were all over the place. He’s been an online friend for years, of course there were things that you didn’t tell each other, but being famous feels like a huge omission. Details that seemed little and insignificant at the time, were being shined on in new light. Mark’s traveling and months away. All the times he would be around but then ghost you out of nowhere. Times when you worried over hurting his feelings, was he just away on TV or tour?

Popular music really wasn’t your forte. You didn’t keep up with current groups and bands outside of the ones that make their way on the news, but between work and school before, it wasn’t something that kept your interest. The last thing you expected was your online friend to be a member of one of these idol groups.

The sound of the door closing brought you out from the depths of your thoughts and Mark just stood there. It felt as if you were looking at a stranger. Was everything he shared with you a lie? A game him and his famous friends created?

“Y/N…I…” he started to speak, but you held up your hands and turned around to grab your bag.

“Don’t. I can’t be here right now.” With that, you pushed past Mark. You’re only goal was to get out of that apartment as quick as possible. Your mind felt as if it was in shambles while you rode the elevator down to the lobby. Your flight vs. fight instinct kicked in and flight clearly won.The feelings were so strong, it wasn’t until you were outside that you realized your shoes were in your hands and bare feet on the pavement.

Home was the only place you wanted to be, the only place you could organize what just happened. Crap, being catfished by a celebrity is not as glamorous as one would think.

A/N: Thank you for the response! Here is chapter 2. I don't really have a upload schedule but I'll try to not keep it too far in between updates. Thank you to my beta and pre-readers for helping me with this one!

[iluvsexyvoltageguys]

Bad Romance - Part 7

Fandom: Scandal in the Spotlight (Love 365)

Pairing: Iori x Reader

In the days following your post-concert hook up with Iori you felt… surprisingly good. Maybe it was the little mantra you adopted or an extra dose of wishful thinking, but you felt you had a good handle on yours and Iori’s relationship. Using the term ‘relationship’ very loosely, of course.

You felt so good, in fact, that you didn’t even bat an eye when Kyohei asked you to go out to dinner with him, his girlfriend, and Iori. You were more than happy to oblige, paying no mind to Iori being in attendance.

When you arrived at the restaurant, the hostess informed you part of your party was already there. You were excited to join Kyohei and his girlfriend, but that was not who you found waiting at the table.

“Oh, it’s you,” Iori frowned as you sat down across from him.

“Nice to see you too,” you grumbled, checking the time.

You had been running late yourself, so Kyohei was extra late. Kyohei was never late. Left to his own devices he’s been known to stroll in well beyond the agreed upon time. An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you waited for your friends to arrive. “God I hope they come soon.” You thought to yourself.

Like clockwork, both of your phones went off. It was a message from Kyohei. ‘Hey guys so sorry. Something came up, we are going to have to cancel’

You let out a groan. You traveled all the way across town to get to this restaurant and you hadn’t bothered picking up any food for tonight since you planned on eating out. Trekking all the way back to your place just to be met by an empty fridge was not ideal. You and Iori looked up at each as if to say, ‘now what?’

“Fuck it,” Iori said finally, picking up a menu, “I’m hungry and I’m staying. Stay if you want.”

You picked up the menu, telling him, “I’m staying for the food, not the company.”

Iori half grunted, before you both buried your heads into the menus. That made it easy, you had something to shield yourself from him. You were able to occupy yourself with reading the selection of food, making the silence slightly less awkward. However, the waitress eventually came, taking your orders and the menus along with them.

With no barrier between the two of you, you were forced to look at each other.

You decided you weren’t about to sit uncomfortably for an entire meal, but you had no idea what to say. Did you and Iori even have anything in common? You really didn’t know. You guessed that would be a good start…

“You know I really don’t know anything about you,” you said, settling back into your seat. You had a feeling it was going to be an interesting night.

“I think you made a point to not know anything about me,” Iori replied, raising a brow at you. Fair point.

“Maybe so,” you replied, “But now I am making a point to know.”

“And where is this sudden interest coming from?” he questioned, taking a sip of his water.

Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I don’t know, figure I should know more than just the name of the person I’m hooking up with.”

“Didn’t seem to care that much about anything else in that closet,” Iori smirked. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it was too late to get your food to go.

“Maybe I don’t wanna just sit here in silence the whole night,” you snapped, “But if you’re gonna be a dick about it…”

“Alright, alright,” Iori put his hands up, “Just having some fun.”

Clearly the two of you had very different definitions of fun.

“What do you wanna know?”

You shrugged, “Whatever you think is important.”

“Hmm, well I went to the University-”

“No,” you shook your head, “That I know.”

“A man can’t be proud of his accomplishments?” he questioned.

“He can, but this isn’t about what you’re proud of, it’s about you,” you reminded him, “What about your family?”

You were still a little curious about him and his father. You knew Kyohei said it was like that a lot, but you were wondering just how bad it was. If he would even tell you.

“Well you met my dad,” he replied simply.

You sensed he was guarded, which didn’t really surprise you. It seemed like a touchy subject and you weren’t exactly someone he had a history of confiding in. “I wouldn’t exactly say met,” you said, “More like he grunted in my direction and then completely ignored me.”

“That’s as good as meeting him,” Iori sighed, “Better off keeping your distance from him. I wish I could.” Iori paused, almost like he surprised himself with his own words. “That probably sounds really shitty.”

“No I get it,” you shook your head, “I wouldn’t put my dad up for father of the year award either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well my parents divorced,” you began, “Shortly after he started a new family and had more kids. I guess he was so busy being a father to them he forgot about his first child.”

It felt kind of weird to be so personal with Iori, but it was also kind of natural. Maybe it was because he would understand the crappy dad struggle, but it was easy to open up to him about it, even if it was something you didn’t talk to most about.

“Sounds like an asshole,” Iori replied.

From anyone else you would have thought it was just a half-assed response because they didn’t know what to say, but from Iori… it was comforting. It was sincere, you knew he understood.

“You got that right,” you sighed, reaching for your glass, “Here’s to surviving shitty dads.” Iori laughed, picking up his glass and clinking it against yours.

From there, the conversation flowed a lot more naturally. Who knew all it took was bad father figures to bring people together? You learned Iori had a younger brother and their mom left when he was younger. The only thing he knew how to cook in any fashion was scrambled eggs.

“Okay maybe I’m using the term cook loosely,” he chuckled at himself.

You were also laughing a lot more than you thought you would. Iori was funny when he wasn’t being an ass. It was pretty easy to bounce off him, your sense of humor jiving really well. You even found your walls coming down a bit as you told him more about yourself. You think this was the longest you’ve ever talked to him without someone making a snide comment or an argument starting.

“Hope you enjoyed your date,” your waitress smiled, placing the check down.

“It’s not a date,” you both replied immediately.

Your faces flushed red, the waitress laughing lightly and apologizing. An innocent comment, but it made the energy shift, injecting an awkwardness between the two of you that had finally dissipated.

“Let’s go,” Iori huffed, tossing down money on the table. You both jumped up, making a beeline for the door. Once outside, you both turned to each other, hovering on the sidewalk. Not even the din of the city street could eat through the tense silence.

It sort of did feel like a date, at least right now it did. It was like he had walked you to your door after a night out and now you were both waiting for someone to make a move. You could practically feel the pull towards him, wondering how bad a kiss could be.

“Kyohei would be proud we didn’t kill each other,” you blurted out suddenly, trying to banish that thought from your mind.

“Your hand got close to that knife a few times, honestly it had me sweating,” Iori joked, though there was a hint of tenseness in his voice.

“Not to worry, if I was gonna kill you it wouldn’t be in public like that.” God what were you saying? He probably thought you sounded crazy… and since when did you care about how you sounded to Iori.

“So it would be a bad idea to ask you to come back to my place?” Iori asked. You eye him suspiciously. That was a trap, right? He wanted to see if you were interested in coming back with him so he could tease you about wanting to fuck him or something.

“But the other guys…” your voice trailed off. It was the safest thing to say until you knew if he was for real.

“The guys are not there and Kyohei got a hotel room this time,” Iori told you, “Something about wanting some privacy from an annoying roommate?” A crooked smile played at his lips as he spoke.

“I know the struggle,” you chuckled. It got quiet again and you realized he was waiting for an answer. “Sure I’ll go back to your place… I’ve got nothing better to do.” You added the last part to not seem too eager.

“Pfft, I’m the best thing you could do,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him, “We’ll see about that.”

Iori followed behind you and you were happy to not have to make conversation. What did two people who didn’t like each other talk about on their way to have sex with each other? You certainly didn’t know.

No feelings, just sex. No feelings, just sex.

You reminded yourself as you walked up to the house. It was weird, you’d never planned to have sex before, it had always just happened. You were entering uncharted territory and you wondered if it would be different.

Your mind wasn’t able to wander too long, the second you were through the door Iori was pulling you on to him. Your lips crashed together, tripping over each other as you made your way to the bedroom. You fell to the bed on top of each other, hands slipping under each other’s shirts. The clothes came off quickly, piling up on the floor. His hand slid between your legs, rubbing at your still-clothed pussy. You could tell by the smirk on his face you were soaked through them.

“Been a while since I made you cum on my fingers,” he mused, sliding your underwear down your legs, “I seem to recall you enjoying that.”

“It was okay,” you voice strained as he ran a finger up your slit. He slipped a finger into you, relishing how your back arched at his touch. He pumped his fingers into you as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it baby, fuck my fingers,” Iori coaxed as you rolled your hips. It almost got past you that he called you baby. Almost. You decided to compartmentalize that and address it later - the pressure building between your legs making it too difficult to think of anything else anyway.

Your orgasm hit you seconds after his thumb found your clit. “Fuck,” you cried out, not expecting the pleasure that was suddenly lighting up every nerve ending in your body.

“As good as I remember,” Iori smirked, stepping back to rid himself of his own clothing. You rubbed your thighs together as you watched him strip down to his boxers, antsy to have him inside you.

Iori’s eyes locked on to yours, making your stomach do a flip. A sudden wave of anxiety rushed over you. God the way he was looking at you, it was different. It felt weird, but right, yet also so wrong. His fingertips ghosting across your thighs was just too… intimate. Like yes sex was an intimate act in general, but it was just… too much. You weren’t like that with Iori. You couldn’t be like that with Iori.

You flipped yourself over, getting on your hands and knees. “Take me like this,” you demanded, wiggling your ass at him. You wanted the least romance as possible.

Iori didn’t seem to mind. “Oh- fuck - yeah okay.” You heard him say before you felt the bed sink under the weight of his body. The head of his cock teased at your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

“Don’t fucking tease,” you hissed as the throbbing between your legs grew to be near unbearable.

“Needy one tonight,” he replied, his hands finding your hips.

“Oh,” you let out a low gasp as Iori pushed inside you. The new angle allowed him to press deeper into you, making your eyes roll back even after just a few strokes.

“God you feel so fucking good right now,” Iori groaned between the slaps of your hips meeting.

“Harder,” you told him, ignoring that sort of compliment from Iori. That was a rarity from him and you didn’t want to play into it too much. A compliment was too close to intimate.

Suddenly there was a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a sharp moan as Iori followed your instructions, pounding into you. “You like when I fuck you like this? You want me to be rough with you?” he growled nipping at your ear. That’s definitely not romantic and it’s perfect.

“Yeah - fuck- give it to me Iori,” you moaned, pressing back on him further. He gripped your hips tighter and you could practically feel the bruises forming. The two of you fell silent, the sound of your wetness as Iori fucked you filling the room. It was borderline pornographic sounding but it was so hot.

You were close, but you needed more. You reached down, rubbing fast circles over your clit.

“Are you touching yourself? Fuck that’s so hot,” Iori said breathlessly.

You couldn’t even get a response out, hit with a second orgasm. All your muscles tensed before relaxing in a euphoric release. You gripped his sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked you through your high. Iori was right there with you, his cock twitching inside you as he came.

Iori slid out of you when you both finished and you let out a soft gasp from the loss of contact. He got up and you began to shift through the clothes on the floor, looking for yours. Iori pulled on sweats and a shirt, flopping down on the bed as you got redressed.

“Stay,” his voice was so soft you almost didn’t hear it. You turned around, finding a very sleepy Iori batting his eyes at you. Did he really just… That was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Yet there you were, pulling your jeans back off, leaving you in just your underwear and the shirt you came in. You crawled into bed next to him, the warmth of his body slightly putting your nerves at ease. This is wrong, you thought, but god it feels right.

“_____?” Iori murmured from behind you. He scooted closer to you, becoming your big spoon.

“Yeah?” you replied, not looking back at him.

“I..” his voice trailed off and for a second you thought he had fallen asleep, “I hate you still.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly as your stomach filled with butterflies. It was stupid, but the way he said it, the pure fondness in the tone of his voice told you that isn’t what he meant.

“I hate you too,” you repeated the contrary sentiment clear in your voice.

Iori’s arms tightened around you as you both drifted to sleep without another word.

SITS Masterlist

[m00nslippers]

Actor!Jason AU Roman losing his shit because he wants Red Hood but he also wants Peters, then rumors of Hood and Peters are dating now he doesn’t know if he should have one of them killed or he should take both of them 😂 So now he sends Slade out to find out if Hood & Peters are truly dating, but Slade already knows Peters and Hood are the same (lol because Deathstroke) and Slade’s a closet Peters fan so he casually stalks Peters with the excuse it’s his “job” Roman still has no clue and yeah

Okay, the thing about Roman is, he’s a surprisingly busy guy. He’s running a company, a criminal empire, stalking Gotham elite’s social scene every night, and everyone knows if you want something done right you’ve got to do it yourself. The only other person he trusts to be competent is David Li, so Roman is usually all up micromanaging people, like “Where’s the drug shipment? What are Sionis Steel’s profit margins? Why have you not fucking killed any of those bats yet?” Someone doesn’t perform, he gets someone new to replace them. He’s in the work smarter not harder business, he’s not like these psycho rogues with stupid plots to get Batman’s attention, for him it’s all about the money, honey.

This being said, Roman doesn’t exactly have a lot of time to watch movies. He goes to the opera a few times a year to keep up appearances and because he’s old school Italian, so he appreciates it as an artform, but general action movies? Naw, not worth his time, he’s got better shit to do.

So when Jason Peters, some nobody-actor from Crime Alley got some attention for talking shit and calling Roman out for some kind of Gotham Celebrity Death Match charity idea, Roman is just like, who the hell is this guy? He’s got no clue.

Cue all of his False Facers piping up like, “Oh my god, Jason Peters called you out, boss!” and “He’s amazing! He’s the real deal!” and “What I wouldn’t pay to be punched by Jason Peters...” and “Jason Peters is a real Gotham homeboy.” They go on and on until Roman has to threaten to toss a few off his building if they don’t shut up. Apparently this kid is popular or something? All the Gotham thugs just love him and they love his movie. So as much as Roman doesn’t generally stoop to humoring his men, he figures it’s research into his enemy and the media keeps bothering him about this guy so he might as well see what he’s dealing with, decide whether to ignore this moron or send him a message he won’t soon forget.

So one night he turns the burners on his fireplace down low, pours some wine and turns on the ol’ On Demand and sits down to watch Gotham-Something-Hot-Something-Action-whatever, generic action movie title, he’s already forgotten. Roman has seen pictures of the man on the news before so he recognizes Peters right away when he comes on screen only a few minutes in. Peters is the lead, apparently recruited right off the Gotham streets? It’s like a Cinderella story, ridiculous.

For the early few scenes Peters doesn’t do much but stand around in a suit behind the stereotypical Carmine and Falcone stand-ins, looking menacing and intimidating. Roman just doesn’t get it. Sure, he’s definitely attractive even by Hollywood standards, and he really sells the implacable silence thing but it’s nothing some buff guy off the street can’t do, which may just be all Jason Peters is.

And then the first action scene happens, with Peters character walking into a warehouse meet full his Boss’s rival’s goons with nothing but an impeccable suit, a knife, an automatic rifle and a handgun and Roman is floored. Holy crap, Peters did all these stunts himself? He hasn’t seen such insanity since the last time he was in the unfortunate position of one of the bats trying to storm his penthouse and he couldn’t exactly appreciate it when he was trying to get to his safe room. This guy had real athletic ability and probably real skill to pull off this stuff. He could see how it would appeal to the basal idiots Roman employed who were easily distracted by flash. Peters believably delivers the impression of a one-man wrecking crew you would not want to be on the wrong side of.

But the movie has only just begun. Directly after the fight scene, Peters’ character reports to his bosses and then returns to his own apartment which is a crappy, rundown place in Crime Alley, and he’s stripping off his tie, shrugging off his suit jacket, and sees...blood spatter, still on his hand. And Peters goes into the bathroom and starts washing it off, motions getting jerky and frantic, eyes getting wide, breathing harsh and then he’s punching the mirror, shattering it to pieces and slicing his knuckles open and the man staggers back into the bathroom wall and slides down, tears running down his face. He reaches into his pocket and unfolds a picture of a girl and Peters speaks his first words of the film. He’s apologizing to his sister, he took this horrible awful job to give her a good life, to get them out of Crime Ally, but she got gunned down in the street before he could get them out and now he’s stuck, he’s stuck doing this shit and he’s good at it but he hates it. Every word on Peters’ mouth is pure Gotham City street syllables you can’t fake, and it all seems to come from a place of dark reality. You can hear the desperation and depression, see how broken and hollow he is. And Roman...he feels a thing.

And that is a big deal. Roman is a borderline sociopath--okay maybe he’s a full on sociopath--he lacks empathy, sob stories mean nothing to him. Yet another reason he doesn’t watch movies, it’s just all such unbelievable schlock. His whole life Roman grew up with a fake mother and a fake father surrounded by fake people faking everything. People pretend they’re civil and good in public, but they are all selfish inside, just looking out for themselves, they are all just like him, so Roman feels no remorse killing people, taking from them, cheating them, forcing them--if they had his power, they would do the same thing. Roman doesn’t feel things for other people.

But Jason Peters made him feel something in that scene.

Roman watches the rest of the movie in a daze. The lead actress comes in and usually Roman would be eyeing her up but he’s only got eyes for Peters. Fuck the love story, he’s just here for Peters, the plot is superfluous, Jason Peters is the only thing that matters in this movie. He sells every word, every emotion, sometimes the script seems to let him down a bit but he’s so good he manages to get the feeling across anyway. Roman is captivated.

By the time the ending credits roll, Roman has purchased the movie and is restarting it as he texts David Li to set up something with this guy post haste. A party, a charity auction, one of that Wayne bimbo’s galas, whatever, doesn’t matter, he needs an excuse to meet this guy. To see if he’s real.

So Li gets him into some kind of charity luncheon for underprivileged kids, and he manages to get himself at Peters’ table. He switches the name plates when no one is looking so he’s right next to the guy and he arrives, fashionably late, but with a big check for the charity. The guy looks just like his character, that’s real at least, not movie magic. Roman tries to engage Peters and after a few minutes of talking with the guy, pretending to be the charismatic business persona he adopts in public as Jason goes off about his Gotham Celebrity MMA Tournament idea--which Roman is really warming to if only because it would give him an excuse to gut-punch Cobblepot in public without ruining his reputation--and Roman gets this odd sense of Deja Vu. Peters feels so familiar, and Roman tells himself its because he just watched the man in a movie. It’s the speech patterns or something, sure.

And now Roman is starting to wonder if he could actually get this silly fight thing off the ground because if he went in, he would not only get to beat the snot out of Cobblepot in public but he’d have an excuse to get close to Peters. So they keep discussing it during the luncheon and finally Roman asks Peters, “So this is for charity or somethin'? What kind of money are you thinking to pull in with this fiasco?”

Peters’ smirks and said, “I was thinkin’ fifty million.”

Roman just scoffs, “Fifty million? What, are you trying to budget a movie? I thought you just did one of those.”

And then Peters goes still for a moment that lasts too long before he gives a stiff chuckle and says, “Naw, affordable housing for the Narrows, Park Ave and Bowery neighborhoods.”

And Roman doesn’t realize it then, but after he’s given Peters his business card, one with his actual personal number written on the back, he’s waiting for his driver to pull his car around and realizes shit. He knows exactly why Peters is so familiar.

Jason Peters is the fucking Red Hood.

[ariesfm-blog]

            hi ! my name is link ! i go by he / they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! i’m an obnoxious aries & this is my idiot , max , who also happens to be an obnoxious aries because i believe in writing what i know JHGKFDLHLF . i’m really excited to be here , because plotless slice of life rps are my thing & i’m excited to get to know all of you & write with you !!! under the cut you’ll find misc. info & some wanted connections , but here are links to his stats page & his pinterest board , which hopefully will give you some extra insight . feel free to like this if you’d like to plot .but if you wanna plot on d*scord ( which is easier for me ) you can add me @ demogorgon ramsay#0039 !

( johnny seo, cismale, he/him ) who is that ? oh, it’s just MAXWELL “MAX” BAE the TWENTY-FOUR year old has been in beauhart for HIS WHOLE LIFE and is currently a BARTENDER. i’ve heard they can be CONFIDENT and HONEST, but also IMPATIENT and BRASH. maybe that’s why their anthem is SANCTUARY by JOJI and CAFFEINE JITTERS, DIRTY CONVERSE PAIRED WITH ALIEN SOCKS, PHONE NUMBERS WRITTEN ON NAPKINS makes me think of them.

misc. info : ( cw : mentions of death & drug use )

his mother died giving birth to him. though he doesn’t remember her ( obviously ) he still holds a bit of guilt & think it’s his fault that she died. but his dad is always quick to snuff that line of thought & holds absolutely no ill will towards max about it

all he’s ever heard is good things about her so he loves her or the idea of her really. he likes to imagine himself in the stories people tell him about her & it’s a comfort to him. it makes him feel like he kind of grew up with her even though he never got to meet her

his dad is a sweet person. full of laughs & kindness. also bad jokes ( this is where max gets his own humor from ). he’s the kind of dad that people wish for. he’s always been supportive of max no matter what & he listens to him whenever he needs it

when they were little they played catch & watched yu-gi-oh together. max still has all his yu-gi-oh cards stuffed in his closet somewhere. now they’re more likely to sit on his dad’s front porch & drink together while listening to music

his dad has never dated or remarried after his wife died because that was his soulmate & he doesn’t want to settle for anyone else & his dad has always told max to find that one person for him

max was miserable in school. he wasn’t good at it & none of it made any sense to him. so he struggled in graduating high school. & he tried college but he couldn’t stand it so he dropped out thankfully with no negative feedback from his dad

he’s kind of anxious & fidgety so it’s hard for him to pay attention ( anxiety & adhd nation make some noise !!! ) but if he gets focused on a project he’ll ignore his need to eat or anything else to work on it

he picked up making drinks from his dad at a young age ( imagine a twelve year old making cocktails that’s basically how it was ) & is really good at it so naturally he became a bartender. it’s not his dream job per se but he enjoys it a lot & makes good tips from it so he has no complaints about it

basically he’s pretty happy-go-lucky but he’s also an idiot & annoying about it. he can seem friendly enough at first but once you get close to him he’ll turn up that aries personality & get on your nerves ( but he’s also like a leech & will stick to you )

he’s really into aliens. he even has a ufo tattoo ! he will fight with anyone who doesn’t believe in them ( or cryptids or the supernatural in general ). the x-files is his favorite show & he wishes to be fox mulder every day of his life. he’s also a diehard boogara

he’s a big conspiracy theorist. he believes in lizard people, the illuminati & that queen elizabeth is a cannibal & that’s how she’s stayed alive for so long. he’s very paranoid about stuff. he’s one of those people who read the terms & conditions on everything so that he doesn’t agree to some company stealing his dna & selling it on the dark web. he also refuses to pick up the phone because he thinks the government is listening in on them ( he only makes calls when he’s high & out of it )

& he loves true crime. he’s always listening to true crime podcasts & watching true crime docs

he loves energy drinks & coffee. he drinks them so much that he’s shaking about 75% of the day but he never listens when people tell him he’s gonna get a heart attack

he’s messy. his apartment is messy. his hair is messy. his entire energy is just messy. but he thinks his personality makes up for it

he can kinda cook but honestly he’s lazy & just prefers to order in food 95% of the time. also he has a bad habit of forgetting stuff like he’ll turn the oven on then get distracted then wonder what the weird smell in his place is

for the most part he’s nice but he does participate in “friendly” dragging. if you’re friends he will clown you & sometimes he can hurt someone’s feelings even when he doesn’t mean to ( more than likely he will not apologize for it he’ll just ignore it til the other person gets over it hopefully )

always losing his headphones. he settles for those crappy $5 earbuds that you find at dollar stores so he won’t feel bad for losing them anymore. honestly he loses everything. who knows how many sets of keys he’s gone through

he’s super clumsy. always tripping, always running into stuff. he’s broken a million glasses at the bar

he’s pretty flirty, pretty charming. he uses it to his advantage at the bar, draws in customers in order to get tips & phone numbers

he’s a soft thot. he’s easy to sleep with but he’s kind & caring about all his partners

he’s a really good boyfriend & he falls in love easily,  but he’s forgetful & accidentally negligent sometimes. like he’ll go days without responding to texts or checking up on people. he doesn’t mean to he just does

he loves pins, patches & colorful socks. everything he wears is covered in them. most of the things he wears aren’t even related to his interests because people just give them random things & he wears them anyway

he can never open jars his beefy arms are useless

a fan of punny humor. he’s the king of dad jokes

he’s that person who puts his legs up on the dash of the car or hangs them out the window

wishes he knew how to skateboard but doesn’t even know how to ride a bike

takes in random cats & dogs he finds on the street. sometimes he tries to find their owners & sometimes he doesn’t but it’s fine

he’s addicted to those edited audios that are like “( song ) but you’re listening to it in the bathroom at a party & you’re crying because you’re alone” & he’s obsessed with joji so of course those are his favorite 

he’s one of those pansexuals who call themselves gay constantly 

uses uwu in texts to be ironic & annoying. most of his words have w replacing certain letters to sound like a smol

he gets stoned at like three am & tries to call people & ask them stupid high people questions like “if two vegans fight is it still called beef”

he’s also never left beauheart or gone too far away. just a few cities at most. he has a bit of a stoner paranoia about it. like if he leaves the state something bad will happen to him or his dad or loved ones

he’s terrified of horror movies. especially ones with clowns. he refuses to watch them because he’s convinced that he’ll accidentally summon a demon or a ghost through osmosis or something JHGDLFKGHD

wanted connections :

rooommates ( one or two )

exes ( any gender. it can be messy or friendly. i’m willing to have max be the issue though with him it’ll always be baby issues since he’s nice & a tryhard JGHKFDHFKGFD )

hookups / fwbs ( any gender. singular experiences or regular type things )

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in beauheart ( childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff )

high school sweethearts

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes ( don’t mind who has the feelings ! )

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies. conspiracy theory buddies. true crime buddies. any of these can be combined

tinder date ( it can go well or not )

frequent customers ( better yet, frequent customers that he flirts with. give me the cliche phone number on napkins plot)

maybe you don’t tip him for whatever reason & he’s had a bad day & he’s like “bro wtf”

teach him how to ride a bike KJFDHSLGJF

maybe you try to get him to leave beauheart & you have to deal with his crybaby ramblings about how something bad will happen

beef with him over the existence of supernatural things

be the person he calls at three am after eating too many edibles & deal with his stoned questions

try to make him watch a horror movie

for someone newer to town: be that person who makes a “your mom” joke & have to deal with that awkward “my mom’s dead” conversation

maybe he “accidentally” stole your cat or dog & you try to get it back but he doesn’t believe that it’s yours even though you clearly have proof

maybe you’re the person who always ends up finding the stuff he loses & you’re stuck in this constant act of returning & you’re tired of it

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it

[crayonwriting]

Irreplaceable You: 11 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by  Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

A/N: Second to the last chapter! I’m not crying; you’re crying!

—

"And I realized, I've never really been on my own, you know?" You fiddled with the needles and yarn in your hands. "If I had a good day, tell Bucky. If I had a crappy day, complain about it with Bucky." You brushed a hand to your, now, completely bald head. You were back with your support group, finally sharing your own thoughts and experiences.

"Mm-hmm." Bruce nodded. He stared intently at your yarn work. He noticed you struggling a little bit. He reached out cautiously and said, "You're going to want to gently, um, pull the yarn back around from front to back."

"Maybe I missed out on something being so bound up with him." You shake your head. "Maybe I missed out on a lot of things. Maybe we're not supposed to be so intensely bound up with one person…" You struggled with the yarn even more.

"Okay, okay." Bruce said calmly. He noticed your growing frustration. 

"Over such a long time anyway." You pulled and twisted the yarn, not really making any more progress. "You know maybe life is about…"

"Why—Why don't we untangle all this…" Bruce held the end of your yarn in his fingertips, gauging your reaction. You exhaled, extremely frustrated. "And start—"

"Crocheting is not a metaphor!" You bursted out. You immediately regretted it. "I—I know. I'm...I…"

"I was talking about needlework." Bruce smiled sadly. 

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, finally starting to untangle your work. 

"You say it's a metaphor a lot." Thor piped up.

"I know I use it as a metaphor," Bruce defended. "But I wasn't on this occasion."

"Maybe you could do like a quote thing." Thor did air quotes with his fingers, emphasizing his point.

You continued to untangle, using Bruce and Thor's conversation as background noise. A thousand thoughts ran inside your head. It has been a week—or more—since you and Bucky had that fight and you were getting hopeless by the minute. Everything was fuzzy and you couldn't think straight. 

You needed advice. You knew that. And who better to give you that than Tony. Come to think of it, he should’ve given a snarky remark already. You turned your head to your side and noticed the empty chair. Odd.

"Where's Tony?" You asked. Bruce and Thor immediately stopped their bickering. Thor's brows arched together, looking as if he was trying not to cry. Wanda bowed her head down—even Loki avoided your gaze. 

"Where's Tony?" You said, more firm and demanding. You looked to Bruce who gave you the side-eye. His shoulders slumped and sighed deeply.

"He...He left us."

Metal clanged against the wooden floor as you dropped your crochet needles. Tears instantly pooled in your eyes. You sat there, dumbfounded. Left? Do they mean he…? But Tony didn't say anything? 

"I…," you stuttered, "I have to go." You hastily packed your bag, put on your beanie and coat and scrambled for the elevator. 

"Y/N!" Bruce called after you. You pretended to not hear him as your tears flowed continuously. You cried hard, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your coat. 

—

You walked up the steps towards the door of a pretty big house. You checked the card Bruce gave you, confirming that this was indeed the house. You huffed out, pocketing the card. You pressed the doorbell for a good second. It opened to reveal a tall, thin, blonde-haired woman wearing a crisp, white skirt and blouse.

"Hi." You greeted. "Uh, are you Pepper?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"I'm Y/N." You extend your hand out for her to shake. She stared at you with a knowing look, squinting her eyes and tilting her head slightly. It was as if something clicked inside her head and then a smile broke out on her lips.

"Come inside." She opened the door wider for you. You entered, removing your coat and hanging it by the hook on the wall. You followed her into the living room where a lot of people were gathered. Friends and family of Tony, you guessed.

"There's all kinds of food," she gestured to a nearby table, "but me, I'm sticking with the scotch." You followed her into the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a fancy-looking glass bottle. She grabbed two glasses, pouring out the drink. She offered one to you. "Scotch?"

"Yes, please." You took the glass from her. "Thanks." You swirled the drink a little before taking a sip. "So...what happened?" Pepper took a sip of her own drink and sighed.

"He'd been getting weaker for a week or so. Not eating, sleeping a lot of the time. He was in pain, but he didn't want to go to the hospital. He wanted to be here at home, just the two of us." She smiled fondly at the memory. "At the end, he looked at me and smiled and said, 'I'll see you around.' And I know I will." She looked at you with a sad smile. 

"The last time I saw him, he didn't mention anything. I... I didn't know he was in pain." You shake your head. "Why... Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Y/N." She put a hand on yours. "It's not about you." She smiled a small smile. "You know, Tony always said you were a bit of an—I apologize for the word—idiot."

"He did?" You chuckled. "I thought we were friends."

"Oh, you were. He was friends with a lot of idiots." Pepper laughed.

"What else did he say?"

"Just that you got your head so far up your ass worrying about Bucky—from what I remember he's your fiance?—and what's gonna happen to him, trying to control everything and predict all the what ifs, and you're missing out on the good part." She took another sip of her scotch. 

"And what is that? The good part?" You asked, eagerly.

"What is." Pepper winked. You looked down at the glass in your hand, avoiding her gaze. You thought about what she had said. Why didn't Tony tell you this himself? 

All of a sudden, you realized that he did tell you—countless times to be exact. Possibly every time you come to him ranting about Bucky and your stupid plan. But, like what he said to Pepper, you were too far up your ass to notice what was really important.

You grunted, smiling to yourself a little; Tony was—is—right. You exhaled deeply, tapping your finger on your glass. Pepper was looking at you somberly, a hint of a smile still plastered on her face.

"Do you want to meet the family?" She asked, breaking the small silence. She gestured to the living room. 

"Uh, thanks, but, uh…," you took one last gulp of your drink and set it down by the counter. "I think I've got to go find Bucky."

"Sure." Pepper nodded. You smiled back at her and started towards the door. Before you could leave the kitchen, you looked back at her.

"You have a lovely home." You looked around the kitchen, marveling at its beauty. "But I may have to agree with Tony on the couch." You tilted your head towards the living room where an old,—ugly—purple couch sat. Both you and Pepper laughed. 

—

You brisk walked out of Pepper's house and made your way back to your apartment. You needed to get to Bucky as fast as you could. You couldn't waste anymore time. You need to make up with Bucky. 

You walked along the Hudson River once again and gave yourself a moment. You breathed in the cold air, letting it fill your lungs and your senses. You huffed out and continued your walk. 

You reached into your purse, pulling out your phone and dialed Bucky's number. His phone just rang until it went to voicemail. You dialed him again and waited.

"Hey!" Someone called out. You looked up and saw none other than Bucky himself sitting on one of the benches. He held his still ringing phone in his hands. 

Your heart leapt and skipped a beat at the sight of him. You haven't seen him for more than a week. His hair grew a bit longer, you thought as he stood up and walked to you. 

"Y/N, I just…," he fumbled for the right words to say. You raised your hand to stop him. 

"Bucky, I have to…"

"No," he shook his head, "I want you to—"

"No, wait. Let me." You raised your voice a little, making him stop talking. You exhaled deeply and focused your stare at him. You noticed how the bags under his eyes were a darker shade of gray than before—a clear sign that he hadn't been sleeping well, like you. 

"I've had some bad luck recently."

"Yeah, I know." Bucky smiled and nodded, a little bit humorously. 

"I thought if I planned your whole future…it wouldn't hurt so much not to be a part of it." You heard your voice crack a little bit. You gulped down and continued, "But the truth is…," you shook your head slowly, "You'll be with whoever you want to be with."

Bucky sighed loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "No, I won't."

"Yes."

"No, I…"

"Yes!" You argued, tears starting to fall. You bit your bottom lip, trying your best to choke down your sobs. "And-And-And I can't help it if you lose your glasses or your socks don't match." You laughed despite your tears. Bucky looked down at his feet, wiping at his eyes, ridding them of his own tears. You smiled sadly at him.

"I have to let you go." You stood there, wiping your cheeks free from tears while you admire Bucky for what could be the last time—his hair that was swaying slightly to the breeze; his electric blue eyes that were so mesmerizing against the setting sun; the creases in between his eyebrows as he tried to understand what you had just said.

“No.” He shook his head. 

"I'm letting you go." You repeated, trying to convince Bucky—and yourself—that this was it. Bucky stared at you like you've grown another head. 

He has been sleeping at Sam's house ever since you got mad and now that you both had finally met again, you want to say goodbye. Bucky couldn't handle it anymore. He figured, you need to shut up for once and listen to him. So, with a determined look on his face—he adjusted his glasses that were slipping down his nose—he got down on one knee in front of you.

"What are you doing?"

"Y/N." He brushed his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. He cleared his throat and continued, “For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to spend forever with you. And I...I know we don't have forever, but the truth is, nobody does.” He shrugged boyishly. “I love you now.”

You smiled a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it together. Your tears blurred your vision but Bucky couldn’t be clearer in your sight.

“I love you now.” You whispered. Bucky smiled slightly, before gulping and turning instantly into a nervous wreck.

“I...I, um…,” he extended his right hand towards you. When you just stood there, he waved it in front of you. “Just...Give me your hand.” You laugh but hold his hand nonetheless. 

He fumbled with the rubber band that was still on your finger. He removed it and flicked it off to the side. He then reached into his jean pocket. He struggled a little and finally pulled out a ring—it was the one that you had bought before. You inhaled deeply at the sight of it. He looked up at you with those doe eyes of his and, with determination, slid the ring onto your ring finger.

“Marry me.”

Your face broke out into the biggest smile you’ve ever had. Bucky didn’t need to know your answer; that smile gave it away.

He stood abruptly, pulling on your arm and aimed for your lips. Oh, how you missed his lips. He breathed out, putting a hand on your back, pulling you closer. You held his face in your cold hands, kissing him back. It felt nice and familiar to have his lips flush against yours. You pulled back, your smile never leaving your face.

Bucky tilted his head to the side, seeming to notice something. You gave him a confused look.

“What? What is it?”

He took a small step back, taking in your features. He held your hand—the one you had on his shoulder—against his chest.

“You so wanted this ring for yourself.” He accused. You laughed out loud, shaking your head.

“I did not!”

“No?”

“No!”

“But it's your size.” You looked at the ring, and shrugged defensively.

“So?” You raised your eyebrow at him. Bucky just laughed and kissed the top of your beanie. He held your hand and started walking back along the riverside. He playfully swung your linked hands in between the both of you.

“So the cake. Chocolate, hazelnut, or raspberry?” You asked. Bucky could only groan.

“Oh, no, you don't.”

“Oh, yes.” You nodded. “I do.”

—

“Can you give us a second?” You told the tailor of the shop. She nodded politely and left the room, leaving you and your mother alone. She approached your place in front of the mirror and placed her hands on your shoulders as you were fiddling with the dress you wore.

“How do I look?” Your voice shook a little. “What about my hair? Well, I mean my head since I don’t have any hair left.” You smoothed your hands over your bald head, fixing the thick crown of faux daisies, with a simple veil attached at the back. Your mom smiled and rubbed her palms comfortingly on your shoulders.

“You look like the most beautiful girl in the world.” She beamed at you. “The light of my entire life. My baby.” She kissed your shoulder softly. You leaned your head against hers and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Then let's take it.” You said softly.

“Okay.” Your mother agreed.

“Okay.”

“We found a dress.” She said, a hint of excitement in her voice.

“This is the one.” You said, firm.

“This is the one.” Your mother repeated. “You're the boss.” She leaned over and kissed your cheek.

—

“Look, just FYI, this is not up to par with my bachelor party standards, okay?” Sam turned to Bucky from his seat at the bar. “We should be rocking Vegas!”

“Well,” Bucky shrugged. “This is more my speed.” He took a swig of his beer.

“That is very sad, but that is actually true.” Sam pursed his lips in agreement. He finished the remnants of his drink and signalled the bartender for another round. “You're a lucky man. Because you have me.” 

Bucky spat some of his drink back into his glass, not being able to stop his laugh. Sam laughed too, slapping Bucky at the back.

—

You lay by the couch, snuggled up in a thick blanket and lots of pillows, watching Bucky put up fairy lights against your bookcases. He glanced at you, smiling.

“What do you think?” He gestured to his work. “Too much?” You shake your head ‘no’. “Good.” He leaned down and stacked some of his textbooks on the coffee table. 

“So I was thinking, we could put the bar over there by the windows and have the people sit here,” he motioned towards the kitchen and living room, “Arrange the chairs, and have the food at the table, of course. And then speeches sort of happen here.” He pointed to where he was standing. He put his hands on his waist and said, “I'm trying to keep Sam from talking.”

“Please, god.” You groaned.

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled, adjusting his glasses.

“And where will the dancing be? Our first dance.” You asked, quietly. You arched your brow at him as looked around the apartment.

“Well, I was thinking here.” He motioned, once again, to where he was standing. “It'll be tight, but...you'll see.” He flashed you a sweet smile. “It'll be great.”

“Show me now.” You held out your hand for Bucky to take. He walked up to you and held your hand tight. He took the other one, pulling you up lightly into a sitting position. You groaned as your whole body ached. You gently shrugged off the blanket and let Bucky pull you up completely.

“Should we start with a fox-trot, maybe?” You giggled, softly. “Or the merengue?”

“I know, you think it's lame.” Bucky playfully rolled his eyes at you. He held your right hand in his left as he placed the other one on your hip.

“Because it is lame”

“It's not lame!”

“It's so lame.” You rasped. You looked down to your feet as you both swayed slowly from side to side.

“Hey, you're really good at it.” Bucky praised. You smiled weakly. He gently turned a little, with you following his lead. You closed your eyes and lay your cheek against his chest. Bucky tilted his head so that it rested on top of yours. He guided your hand and put it on his left shoulder, his own hands planting themselves on your waist.

You smiled at how close you and Bucky were. Blindly, you prodded your way inside the collar of his shirt, feeling the scar on his shoulder. You giggled quietly and rubbed the marred skin.

“I really bit you.” You whispered into the quiet of the night. Bucky mewled in response. He rubbed your arm soothingly, lifting his head a little to give yours a small, sweet kiss. He placed his hand back on your waist and tugged you towards him.

“Six stitches,” he reminded you which made you laugh.

“I can't believe you still have this.”

It was quiet before Bucky responded.

“I’ll have it forever.” He murmured. You hummed in response and continued to dance with Bucky. Bucky bit his lips and averted his eyes to the ceiling, forcing his tears back. Despite the silence, you both continued to dance in slow circles, relishing the solemn moment.

—

feedback?

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permanent tags: @awkwardfangirl2014

[descentintobandom]

Ghost of Ohio

Title: Ghost of Ohio Chapter: One-Shot Pairing: Ghost of Ohio!Andy/OC Rating: T Fic Summary: While taking pictures in the graveyard, Leila meets the Ghost of Ohio. Author’s Notes: Obviously inspired by “Ghost of Ohio” by Andy Black. I also used the “Ghost of Ohio: Prologue” for background context since the comic book doesn’t out until mid-April. I guess this kinda counts as an AU.

Leila was 14 when she first saw him.

Most people wouldn’t be in the graveyard the day after Christmas, but it had snowed and the gravestones looked so beautiful.

Leila took out her camera and started snapping photos, checking after every one to make sure she got the shot she wanted. She snapped a picture aimed at some gravestones on the edge of the forest.

Looking back at the photo, there appeared to be a shadow near the trees. It almost looked like a person.

She looked back up, but didn’t see anyone. After putting her camera away, Leila walked over towards the edge of the forest.

These gravestones were older. Much older.

One of them caught her eye.

“Andrew Dennis Biersack. Beloved son”, was all Leila could work out. The rest had been worn away by the weather.

She took a picture of it with her phone and left the graveyard, all the while feeling like someone or something was watching her. When Leila returned home, she logged onto her computer to research the mysterious Andrew Biersack.

He was accused of the murder of five people and hanged on December 20. The people of the town removed his right eye and chopped off his hand to protect themselves from the supposed ‘curse’ he had placed on them.

Leila thought it sounded like pure bullshit.

Andrew was just an innocent person executed for a crime he didn’t commit and he supposedly haunted the graveyard. Most people didn’t know his name, so they just called him the Ghost of Ohio.

When she went back the next day, he was nowhere to be found.

A year later, Leila visited the graveyard again. This time for different reasons. Her grandmother had died that year and her birthday was a few days after Christmas.

As she was laying the flowers on the grave, she heard, “She loved you, you know”. She turned and fell back in shock.

A young man stood in front of her. Only…there was something off about him. He had a single blue eye and the other was completely gone and one of his hands was missing.

Leila found herself unable to scream.

“Please don’t be afraid”, the man said as he held out his hand.

“You’re…you’re the Ghost of Ohio”, she said as he helped her up.

“Please, call me Andy”.

“You were in my picture last year”.

“I apologize for that if I frightened you. Sometimes I have no control over where I show up”.

“Why can’t I see you during the year?”

“I don’t know. Every December 26th, I’m given one night to roam this earth, but I’m confined to this city”.

“So…are you like…stuck here?”

“Yes. Until my name is cleared, my business on this earth will continue to be unfinished”.

The year Leila turned 16, she started a campaign to clear Andy’s name and have him exonerated. Most people thought she was crazy, but she pursued it anyway.

Eventually, the city of Cincinnati agreed to exonerate Andy’s name and admit that he was an innocent that was blamed for the murder on the basis of no evidence linking him the crime.

When Leila walked into the cemetery, she didn’t expect to find Andy at his gravestone waiting for her. “But…I had your name cleared. What are you still doing here?” she asked him.

Andy shrugged. “Maybe I’m cursed to walk this earth forever”.

“Well, since you’re still here, I figured we could go for a drive and you could show me your old haunts”. Leila then started laughing while Andy just gave her a weird look. “Haunts? Because you’re a ghost?” she asked, but Andy didn’t laugh. “Okay, sorry. Didn’t know that was offensive to you”.

Andy walked with Leila back to her car and opened the passenger side door.

“Woah. Wait. You won’t like…fall through the car or something…will you?” she asked him.

Andy rolled his eyes and got in the car, shutting the door behind them.

“This is just weird”, Leila muttered to herself as she started up the car.

They spent the early morning hours just driving around the city.

As the sun came up, Andy became more and more transparent.

“Thank you for spending time with me, Leila”, Andy said, “If I am cursed to spend an eternity on this earth, at least I will have you”. Before he disappeared completely, he leaned over and kissed Leila on the cheek.

Leila’s cheeks burned as Andy faded from her sight.

When Leila turned 17, her feelings towards Andy had begun to change. She looked forward to seeing him that year. Like every year, Leila met Andy next to his gravestone.

But this year, Leila brought him home with her. “You’re not gonna like haunt my house or anything like that, right?” she asked him.

Once again, Andy didn’t laugh.

“Did your sense of humor die with you or something?” she asked as they walked in the front door.

“Leila! Where have you been?” her mother asked.

“Oh, you know me. I love to take a walk right after it snows. It’s so beautiful before all the kids of the neighborhood destroy it. But I’m really cold and tired now, so I think I’m just gonna go up to my room and curl up under my covers”.

“Okay, goodnight dear”, her mother said kissing her head.

Andy and Leila went up to her room and Leila went into her closet to change. When she came out, Andy was lying on her bed.

“I hope this is okay”, Andy said.

“It’s fine”, she told him. Leila laid down next to him, cautiously setting her head on his stomach with one of her arms thrown over his legs.

His body was as cold as death (which made sense), but it was comforting to her.

Andy’s hand came up to play with her hair as Leila closed her eyes. In the morning, Andy would be gone and she would be alone in her bed. Just like every night.

The thought of it made Leila feel sad. She felt foolish.

Falling in love with a ghost? This wasn’t a TV show or some crappy YA paranormal romance book. But she loved Andy. Fate had a cruel sense of humor. She settled back against his cold chest, content to spend this time with him.

It was the day after her 18th birthday when it happened. Just after midnight to be exact.

Leila was driving home from her birthday party her friends had thrown from her. It was a route she had taken many times before, but it was rainy and the roads were wet. Leila’s phone buzzed and against her better judgement, she reached down to check it. When she looked up again, she was in the wrong lane, headed straight for another car. She jerked the wheel and swerved off the road. The last she saw was a tree in front of her before everything went black.

When Leila opened her eyes, a piercing blue eye met hers. “Andy?” she asked him.

He gave her a somber smile and said, “It’s time to go now”. Andy held his hand out to her and she took it. He pulled her up and she felt an enormous weight leave her shoulders. He led her to the edge of the forest.

“Wait. Andy? What’s going on? Why are we going this way?” she asked.

“Please don’t turn…”

But it was too late. Leila turned around just in time to see herself being pulled out of the wreckage of her car. She watched helplessly as the EMT’s tried to resuscitate her with no luck. A sob escaped her mouth and she finally understood.

“I’m dead”.

“Yes”, Andy told her.

“What will happen now?”

“We’ll go wherever this takes us”.

“But you were supposed to move on. I cleared your name. You had no more unfinished business”.

“I couldn’t move on without you and I was willing to wait as long as it took. You were my unfinished business”.

Leila turned around to face him and looked up into his single blue eye. She placed her hands on his cheeks and leaned up, pressing her lips to his. Instead of feeling cold, he felt like the same temperature as her.

It didn’t matter what happened or where they went.

As long as she was with Andy, Leila didn’t care.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Cursed Communication

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: You’re going to assassinate an archangel for his assertion over your anatomical authority. Prompt: For @gabriel-monthly-challenge’s December Prompt: Rev’s Ridiculous and Random (p)Rompt: “This month’s prompts are brought to you by the letter R! Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to include the following words in your fic/art/other creation: Robotics, Recalcitrant, Rhubarb, Regular, Raining.”

(Yeah I’m not joking. Those words are in here, in the same sentence. You Cannot Miss It.) Quick facts: Romance – Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader Warnings: Alliteration, crack-ish in part, fluff Words: 1622

A/N: I was actually hesitant to tag @gabriel-monthly-challenge  for this because when I first read through it I thought ‘that’s a silly prompt. I’m in!’ but when I went back and re-read it…I don’t actually know if it counts as its own prompt or if it’s supposed to be worked into one of the other (actual) prompts? But what the hell; I wrote a thing off their idea and even if this doesn’t count for the monthly round-up I feel like I should credit GMC (and @revwinchester) specifically because it is sort of, technically, completely their fault. Even if I didn’t do it right. SO. There’s that. But anyway; this week has been a complete fail for me every step of the way so I wrote something for an idea that made me laugh. Hopefully it amuses you too. I was gonna try to do a straight crack fic but I couldn’t help but make it fluffy, I guess. It’s my thing~. In any case, please enjoy.

    How did it all go so wrong?

You thought (‘thought,’ as in past tense) that you and Gabriel had a good thing going. You’ve been friendly almost since you first met, and absolutely flirty since then– much to the annoyance of Sam and Dean, the latter of whom actually took a swing at Gabriel to…defend your honor, you guess. It was funny, and Gabriel had good humor, and you liked him.

Liked. Again, past tense.

Because after that first meeting, things mellowed out enough that Sam and Dean forgave his little ‘not-as-dead-as-you-thought-I-was’ act and he started hanging around more and more. And the flirting turned up more and more– but never went past that. Because as much as you liked him, you weren't completely sure he liked you.

Now, you’re pretty sure you made the right call.

“Gabriel!” you snap, trying to be courteous to the sleeping library occupant just down the hall.

However Sam walks in, yawning, and runs a hand through his hair, bringing it from ‘mussed’ to ‘model’ in seconds. He has a line on his face from where he fell asleep on his book. It’s the only thing that keeps you from hating his ability to literally roll out of bed (or worse) looking like that. “What’s wrong?” he asks you and looks around.

You can only seethe. “Gabriel,” you hiss as Cas and Dean (dear absent god why him) walk into the room.

Sam frowns. “‘Gabriel’ what?”

You point at your mouth.

“Gabriel…cursed you?”

You nod.

“That’s…not possible,” Cas says, perplexed. You glare at him. Semantics are not your biggest concern right now.

“What did he curse you with?” Dean prompts.

You rub the space between your eyes. You don’t want to say. Or rather, you don’t want to find out what you're going to say. It’s really a crapshoot at this point. But Sam says your name seriously, and you sig– exhale heavily.

“Alliteration…always assures annihilation.”

They all blink in unison. It’s a little creepy.

“Uh…what?” Sam asks.

You aim your glare at him. He flinches, so that at least is satisfying. “I am cursed to continue this conundrum with my communication,” you say through grit teeth.

Dean snorts. You look at him and he’s smiling in a way that suggests he’s holding back laughter. He holds his hands up in mocking surrender but he can barely keep his lips together.

“Ah…alliteration?” Sam guesses.

You nod. Sam’s mouth twitches, and within seconds both he and Dean are laughing raucously. Cas remains impressively stone-faced but you bet he’s laughing inside. You cross your arms and glower at New Mortal Enemy Numbers Two and Three. Number One, of course, being a certain archangel. Who you had liked– up until he took your mouth hostage.

“Well, at least now you know how it feels to get fucked over by Gabriel,” Dean says and pats your shoulder before leaving. Asshole.

“I’ll see what I can find in the library but, uh, I’m not sure what anyone can do about finicky archangels,” Sam says, smiling, and leaves. Bastard.

“I’m sure it will be over in a day or so,” Cas says, awkwardly mimics Dean’s pat, and goes. Dick.

You glare up at the ceiling and think about how you can get through this without saying one single syllabl–

If this alliteration thing spreads to your thoughts you don’t care what it takes you will find Gabriel and pluck him like a dead chicken.

 You run out of your room and slam the door shut. “Gabriel I will WASTE YOUR WORTHLESS–!” You shut your mouth and start breathing through your nose. The thudding and beeping on the other side of the door continues and you stomp away, towards the bunker exit, and almost get there when Dean, Cas, and Sam all come out of the library and block your way.

“What now?” Dean asks but he jolts when he sees your face. You’re barely holding back tears, so you can only imagine how you look. Having someone take over your main outlet for communication is decidedly not fun.

You point your finger back towards your room so quick you pull something in your arm. You don’t care. “It’s raining rhubarb on the regular and there are recalcitrant robotics running around like rascal–” You clamp your hands over your mouth and scream into them. “GABRIEL!”

“You rang?” Gabriel says, appearing on the nearest desk and grinning. It’s all you can do not to grab a sharp object and just start stabbing. “Oh come on! I’m giving you a lot of material to work with.”

You’re shaking. Cas looks concerned. If he wants to keep his brother, he should be.

“Uh, Gabriel?” Dean, of all people, sounds worried. “Unless you want to die for real you should probably stop.”

Gabriel is about to say something but when he looks at you, really looks at you, he actually blanches. Apparently the murderous rage-waves floating off your body manage to get to him, because he snaps his fingers and the weight on your tongue vanishes.

“Talking…I can just…talk normal…say things that don’t…” The test works and you let out a huge sigh. The relief of having your mouth back under your complete control is so great that you actually sink to your knees.

“Gabriel, wai–” Cas sighs and you look up to see the archangel is gone. You shake your head but let it be. You need the space to cool down before you find out what the hell is going on.

 Gabriel, apparently, needs more space than you do. You’ve been trying to contact him for hours and gotten nowhere. So you go to the library where Dean sits on one side of the table with the laptop and Cas sits on the other side with a book. Sam is absent, but that’s all right– you only need the angel.

As if sensing that, Cas looks up on your approach. “Hey. Can you do me a favor?” you ask, and then launch into it. “Gabriel’s ignoring me. Can you tell him to come by; that I just want to apologize?”

“I will relay your message,” Cas says confi–…with assurance.

“Thanks,” you say and pull on your jacket.

“Going somewhere?” Dean asks, looking up over the computer.

“Just out back to get some air.” And privacy, in case Gabriel does decide to swing by.

There’s a small table and some crappy old folding chairs out there. You pick the most stable of the lot and squint at the darkness. Despite the uncomfortable seating and cold air, you resolve to wait a while, and pull out your phone so you’re not quite so bored.

A blanket is dumped in your lap and you jolt up, but Gabriel plops into the chair next to you and huffs. “What’s wrong with your room?”

“Nothing. At least, not anymore,” you say and pull up the blanket. Gabriel winces, but you put your phone away and look at him. He looks anywhere else. You sigh. “I’m sorry I got…that upset. It was probably an overreaction on my part. I just– I’m sorry for whatever I did. I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Gabriel says vehemently, eyes snapping up at you as he sits up straight. “We’re actually–!”

You can practically feel Gabriel pulling the handbrake on that one, and after a few seconds you decide to fill the silence. “So what was the point of that?”

Gabriel looks at you again. It’s a small victory, but a victory still. “The point?”

“You don’t…do stuff like that without trying to make a point,” you say. “Teach lessons. Or get revenge on Dean, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat your sandwich.”

Gabriel snorts. “No. No lesson. No revenge. Just…I thought you’d find it funny. We were talking about alliteration a few days ago.”

You do remember that. Joking around that started out verbal and then devolved into playful shoving, but what you remember the most is when he accidentally wrapped his arms around you and–

You think you might get it. And you’re afraid of what Gabriel might do next if you don’t broach the topic. Like a grown-up. “Gabriel,” you say. “Were you…pulling my pigtails?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that; it’s a legitimate expression,” you say. “And don’t dodge the question.”

He huffs and mutters, “Yes.”

You can’t help but smile. “Gabriel. You idiot.” And then you grab the back of his head and pull him in for a firm kiss before he can do anything else stupid. He doesn’t resist– in fact, he yields, and it’s up to you to pull away while he remains where you put him. You brush a bit of his hair away from his forehead. “All you had to do was say something.”

He smiles up at you. In an instant you’re draped across his lap, blanket and all, and the chair feels suspiciously sturdy. “I’m not so good at that. However…I am pretty good with my mouth in other ways.”

It’s the dumbest pick-up you’ve heard in a long while. It’s also perfectly Gabriel. You smile and lean in– only to stop a few centimeters from his mouth. “If I ever lose any amount of control over any part of my body ever again because of you I will end you. I’m guessing you’ve never been compelled but having experienced it twice now I can tell you, even just a small bit of it is not fun.”

“Understood,” Gabriel says quickly. He grins. “Completely clear and coherent my cupc–”

You press your lips to Gabriel’s and hope he really is good with his mouth in other ways.

He is.

[thatgoddamnwizard]

Mae/Harry: Cold Comfort

((@wintermae I just decided to transfer this over from Discord so we could reblog from it and have it in the thread archive, since we’re almost up to this point in the “Effects and Consequences” thread!))

Mae:

They had gotten out. Mae was honestly a bit fuzzy on the details of how, exactly, she and Harry had done it...Her theory was that her mind was trying to protect her for a little longer and she wasn't about to mess with that at the moment. Not when they weren't truly out of the woods yet. 

 "You can stop lookin' at me like that any moment now, Harry. " She had a hand on her stomach and center of her chest, the bloodstains on her shirt  turning darker than they had been before.  Man, stitchin' would've been neater than staplin'. "'M not goin' to go into hysterics. 'M fine...Relatively so."

______________________________________

Harry:

They were nearing his apartment. Once he got her inside, she'd be relatively safe from Nikolai, at least for the time being.

He kept looking over at her as he drove, his eyes taking in the bloodstains, the silvery glimmer of the staples she had used to put herself back together. The memory of seeing her lying on the table, screaming as these monsters cut her up, flashed white-hot in his mind, and he closed his eyes briefly before turning back to the road.

He felt sick. And angry. He wanted to visit that same pain on them.

“Relative to what, exactly?” he growled. “To being freaking vivisected? 'Cause that's not exactly a high bar.”

______________________________________

Mae:

"Well 's my bar to put where I want it, 'sn't it? I was the one who got filleted so I should get to figure it out." She stops short, swallowing back a wince of unease thanks to one of Chicago's many potholes. Her hands press a little harder to her chest and stomach.

Don't get defensive, Mae. He's not the bad guy here. He's the guy who helped get you out.

"Sorry. That was rude of me. You're just as whumped an' 'm actin' like a bitch. Everythin' 's back on the inside so...'s a definite improvement to how it had been."

______________________________________

Harry:

He grimaced at the look of pain on her face when he hit the pothole and tried to pay more attention to the road, mumbling an apology under his breath. Not that he could avoid all of the potholes, but he could at least try to drive over them a bit more slowly and avoid jarring Mae's still-healing body any more than he had to.

Guilt gnawed at his mind, Nikolai's voice echoing in an endless, mocking loop. Were it not for you we never would have found her again.

The Beetle turned down the street his apartment building was on. “No need to apologize. I'd probably be grumpy too if I had my insides on my outside an hour ago.” He pulled the car into his parking space. “Come on. We'd better get behind my wards before Moriarty and Doctor Moreau recover enough to come after us.”

______________________________________

Mae:

For some reason the statement made her laugh. Which...hurt like hell since it pulled on her rush stapling job. But over the scary sort of pain, she didn't mind the good sort of pain. Laughing was decidedly in the good column. The road seemingly evened out and she relaxed ever so slightly. She figured that they were getting close to his place. It would be interesting to see where a big shot wizard lived.

Or maybe she was trying not to think about any of the less savory things. Either way it would be nice to be inside.

His mention of Moriarty draw a long groan from her. That was a name she hadn't thought about in YEARS. "I met him once," she told Harry. "Moriarty, I mean. God he was a self-important  jerk. Makes sense that you'd associate Nikolai with him."

______________________________________

Harry:

Harry pocketed the keys to the Beetle, climbed out of the car, and limped hurriedly to the passenger side to help Mae. This time it wasn't so much a display of chivalry as it was concern for his friend, who was still apparently in quite a lot of pain.

He hated seeing any of his friends in pain. He'd rather get the tar beaten out of him any day of the week than see his friends suffer. God knew he was used to it.

He offered her a hand, his eyebrows rising. “Wait, what? Moriarty was real? As in Doyle's character?”

______________________________________

Mae:

It was a testament to how tired and beat up she was that she simply put her hand in his as she got out of the Beetle in one swift movement. This time she bit her tongue to keep from making any noise when it tugged and pulled at her. She knew she should move slower but there really wasn't time to take it easy. At least not until they got behind the wards he apparently had guarding his home. "Oh hey. This 's a nice buildin'. Very solid lookin'. Like the brick."

At his surprise, Mae nodded. She took in a slow breath then exhaled in the same way. "The whole multiverse theory that gets talked about? Yeah, 's...way more than a theory. 'S a reality." She offered up a wry smile while hoping Harry wouldn't notice just how pale she probably was. "I...also kind of dated Holmes for a bit. That...was a thing for a bit."

______________________________________

Harry:

“It's quality brick,” he agreed, leading the way around the building and down the steps to the door of his basement apartment.

“Multiverse,” he mused, shaking his head. “Hell's bells, that's a sobering thought.” Being an aficionado of science fiction, and an eclectic reader in general, he was familiar with the concept. Maybe there was another him somewhere out there in the quantum foam, hopefully having better luck than he was. He hated the guy already, the asshole.

He nearly choked when Mae admitted to dating Sherlock Holmes. “That must've been a trip. Dating someone fictional. Then again, maybe we're fiction in somebody else's universe. Jesus. That's a mindfuck and a half.”

He reached out to begin taking down his wards, and clenched his jaw against a wave of acidic pain that suddenly flared against the skin of his chest, followed by the unmistakable sensation of his power being slapped down inside him. He nearly hit the pavement, but caught himself on the wall, swaying. Nikolai had carved some sort of magic-binding sigil into his flesh while he had been unconscious, and it was still doing its job, which meant he couldn't get into the apartment without having his wards blow up in his face.

“Dammit,” he snarled. “Dammit! I can't get past my wards.” He breathed slowly for a minute, letting the pain subside. “I need a shovel.”

______________________________________

Mae:

Mae didn't disagree about about either comment relating to the multiverse considering how true they both were. She laughed without making a sound and nodded. "He was interestin'."

Whatever he'd meant to do was quickly abandoned in favor of crumpling into himself some. Her eyes widened in concern. At first she couldn't figure out just what was going on. He was too young to have a heart attack, wasn't he? God that would be the  icing to their really crappy set of days.

The moment his wards were mentioned, Mae understood. He'd been marked with something that was keeping him from doing anything remotely magical.  She leans against the wall Harry had caught himself on and looks around. She sure as hell didn't see any shovels near by. "Are you planning on burying me alive?" Mae joked before making a face. “Not the best time for gallows humor, Singer."

______________________________________

Harry:

He gave her a level look. “Nah. Thought I'd go look for buried treasure. Buy a Caribbean island somewhere, retire while I'm still in one piece.”

Pushing himself away from the wall, he hobbled the rest of the way around the old boarding house, until he could see the little brick-lined garden that bore some sad semblance of plant life. He paced around, nudging at the bricks with a foot until he found a loose one, and then dropped into a crouch, wiggling it loose.

His eyes traveled over the yard as he tried to remember where he had planted the talisman he had hidden for emergencies. He had expected to give the information to trusted friends who needed shelter in his absence, not to have need of it himself.

He found the spot and started digging with the brick.

______________________________________

Mae:

"Just call you Will Turner," Mae told him wryly while watching him move from the spot where he was holding up the wall to get to the other side of the building. Her brows furrowed slightly as she followed him, her curiosity getting the better of her.  Once she realized what he was doing, she understood his need for a shovel.

Since she didn't want to just stand there while he did all the work, Mae knelt down and started to help dig. Dirt collected under her fingernails as she assisted him. In some ways it was nice to be that close to the earth. To momentarily connect again.

______________________________________

Harry:

Harry almost protested at Mae's assistance, considering the state of her, but he kept his mouth shut because he knew she'd just yell at him and then keep doing it anyway. What do you know, miracles do happen, and Harry Dresden can shut up.

The brick hit metal, and he pulled out the little copper tin that he'd put the talisman in before burying it. “Here we go.”

Standing, talisman in hand, he returned to the door and led the way inside. Thirty pounds of cat came barreling into his legs in greeting, nearly bowling him over, and he hissed through his teeth as pain spiked through the bullet wound in his calf. Headbutt-greeting accomplished, Mister ambled away to continue whatever it was he had been doing. Harry lifted one hand habitually with the intention of igniting his collection of candles and storm lamps that was scattered around the room, but he caught himself just in time, before that damned sigil could put him on his ass again.

“Home, sweet home,” he said instead, and went to the mantel to look for some matches.

______________________________________

Mae:

She was surprised at the fact that he didn't try to tell her off for helping since he definitely was the type of man to be on the upside of chivalrous. Maybe it was because he was tired. Or because he knew she would ignore him anyway.

Either way the talisman was found in quick order and they were both making their way back to his front door. Which looked like it had seen better days and more than a few attempts to break in. "Sturdy door," she commented. "Reminds me of Bobby's bunker."

The cat that lived there ran into him at full force, ostensibly letting Harry know that he had, in fact, been missed. She winced a little at the visual since it had looked like the big cat had thunked into him pretty hard. They walked inside and Mae was surrounded by a distinct lack of light. It's a basement type area.

"'S very...mysterious." Mae breathes a laugh before shrugging out of the tatty hospital type robe she'd drawn around herself before their daring escape. She instinctively shut the door behind her. It resisted with a metallic screech before there was darkness once again.

"Shoot. Okay. One minute." It took energy. Which she was surprised to find she still had some reserves of. Closing her eyes, she focused on bringing light forth, working to keep her breathing steady as she slowly opened her eyes and saw that she'd succeeded. A soft sort of light emanating from left hand.

______________________________________

Harry:

“Mysterious?” Harry looked up from where he was lighting a candle, and his eyes traveled around his living room. It was the same as it had always been: small, cozy, candlelit. “Uh, okay. If you say so.” He nodded to the door as Mae wrestled it closed. “Yeah, still need to get that fixed. Had a zombie incident a few years back.”

He watched as she conjured light in her hand, smiling a little despite himself. It was beautiful. Ethereal.

Sometimes he forgot that Mae wasn't fully human.

Limping to her side, he looked down at her, at the bloodstained hospital gown she had been wearing under the robe. “How you holding up?”

______________________________________

Mae:

"Ugh. Zombies. Hate those."

Seeing his smile put her at ease and helped ease that fight or flight feeling still running through her system. It also seemed to make the light coming from her shine a bit brighter. When he hobbled over Mae gave him a slow, lazy shrug. That was easier than any quick, jerking movement she could do. And it definitely hurt less.

"'M okay." She looked down at her front and sighed heavily. "A bit messy. Um...Go on an' finish lightin' the candles. I'll just sit here an' concentrate on healin'....Do you happen to have a sewin' kit?"

[stcrlghts]

Meet Cute

Prompt: literally no one asked for this. my own brain did it to me. 

Words: a whopping 1,773 

Author’s Note: um, i’ve never posted a fic before(??) on here. i’ve never even written a proper fic before. i’m not even a lin or hamilton blog (i apologize for that) but i’ve been obsessively reading a bunch of lin fanfics from some amazing people lately and it inspired me so i literally wrote this in like an hour and it sucks but. YEAH. huge thanks to @manuelmiranduh, @protecting-my-legacy, @fragmentofmymind, @alexanderhamllton, @musicalmiranda for being my inspirations. you guys are amazing and literally a blessing to my dash every day. 

Warnings: um, if you have a caffeine addiction?? + mild cursing. 

so here we go, i guess. enjoy my crappy lin manuel fanfic because he literally owns my soul now. i’ll probably do a second part because of how cliffhanger-y this ends. 

It was not unusual. This was the way it always happened. It was late evening or early morning and the coffee pot always broke. You’d just be busting your way through another term paper or bundle of notes to pass a final and it happened. You’d first pout and curse, loudly, before sighing and condemning yourself for your damned student budget and “why didn’t I splurge more for the better coffee maker?!” Tonight, you had a four-page paper about the history of journalism during war due at 8 AM in the morning. Instead of letting your anger get the best of you, you shrugged on a coat, packed up your laptop, and took your keys and wallet from the table near your apartment’s front door. This paper couldn’t finish itself and you couldn’t work without coffee. Therefore, a 24-hour coffee shop was your best bet and you happened to know where the best one in the city was.

A mere 15-minute walk in the melting snow later and you had found yourself in your second place of solace – the dim orange glow of the coffee place you frequented. Your closest friend had off tonight, but the manager had greeted you with a welcome hug and free cup of your favorite brew. You glanced around as your computer wakened itself and the coffee stirred the writing beast inside of you. Unlike normal, the shop wasn’t empty. In the corner just notched a few spots away from you, there was a man hunched over a notebook, scribbling something furiously. Every few seconds, you caught his mouth moving to mouth words as he wrote them down. His black hair was messy on his head, as if he’d just rolled from his bed and found himself here. His eyes screamed for some sleep, but you had a feeling his brain was much too wired to fulfill that need. You furrowed your brow, trying to make sense of this hauntingly alluring creature when you heard your name being called from the counter. Frowning, feeling like someone had just caught you staring, you turned in your chair, finding your other friend beckoning you from the back room. Finding your way through the maze of chairs and tables and almost bumping into the mystery man, you made it to your friend, who promptly grabbed your wrist and tugged you back with him.

“Y/N! Did I catch you staring at Boy Genius over there?”

Surprise captured whatever words had previously been in your vocabulary and you found yourself rolling your eyes before coming up with the suave answer you did.

“Um… Was I- I mean, I didn’t- Uh, no?”

Your friend rolled his eyes now, impatiently stomping one foot.

“Come on! You totally were checking him out. Don’t lie to me.”

Your brain, unable to form proper connections or words into sentences without its minutely dose of caffeine, failed you at this moment. Your friend overrode whatever words you were going to say.

“You need coffee, honey. Desperately.”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” You replied, a soft smile appearing on your lips.

“Yes. But I’m here to finally hook you and Boy Genius up!”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes! You two will be leaving here together by the end of the night if it’s the last thing I ever do!”

Your eyes widened with a certain type of surprised fear and it becomes apparent to you why you should have splurged on that more expensive coffee pot in the first place.

“Jesse, you don’t get it! I’m a nervous wreck because y’all are basically pumping caffeine right into my veins and I have this paper due and, oh my god, you can’t do this to me! I literally hate you right now.”

Jesse didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked stern. He didn’t look shocked that you hated him because he knew you didn’t.

“Y/N, you will get that paper done. And Boy Genius will help you! And you’ll go home to his place, or yours but yours is a mess so take my word on this, and you’ll wake up in his bed and you’ll see him again tomorrow and the next day and spend weekends with him and meet his parents and fall in love and get married and I’ll be there at the wedding with my handsome stud of a boyfriend or husband by then and I’ll be saying it’s totally and completely my work of bringing you two together and you won’t hate me then!”

You couldn’t help it then. You burst out a laugh so loud and so rambunctious it was as if the coffee and this type of cruel humor had unlocked a beast within you and you had to get it out by laughing.

You laughed with Jesse. Then you gave in, for the sake of at least getting out of this mad house.

“Okay. I’ll do it, I’ll be a pawn in your chess game. But first I need to know about him.”

Jesse shook his head defiantly.

“No! You learn everything from him. It’s the rule.”

“Goddammit, I guess I’m meeting this man tonight instead of finishing my paper. Thanks Jesse, you just dropped my score in class by an automatic 2 or 3 points. My perfect GPA, ruined.”

You faked a sad smile before turning completely serious.

“Jesse? How do I look?”

He turned to you with one raised eyebrow, his eyes scanning your distressed jeans, powder blue tee, and light grey coat.

“Honey, your curls are seriously diminished,” was all he said before exiting the storage room.

“My hair is not curly!” you huffed, but checked your back pocket for your phone anyway. You checked your hair in the camera and found that, yes, your hair had developed a few curls since your late afternoon shower earlier that day. Sighing, you decided there was nothing you could do but take the hair tie from your wrist and pull your hair up. Once you were somewhat presentable, you left the back room. Jesse found your eye and gave you a thumbs up before he called out a name for coffee pickup.

As you walked back to your table, your eyes trained on the floor and your mind turning itself over backwards to think of ways to greet this guy, you felt your body bump into something in front of it. You shook your head before peering upwards. In front of you stood the man you had been worrying about since you came in this shop. Your eyes widened in shock as he picked up the books you had knocked from his hands. Your mouth formed a small O before you bent down to help him.

Your eyes grazed the titles, finding an assortment of political biographies, sheet music booklets, and old hip hop CDs. As you reached down to pick up a biography on… Alexander Hamilton of all people, his hand reached for the same book. Seeing as you had picked it up first, his hand flattened in a gesture, a question asking you to hand it to him. You did as you were asked and tried to stand up. Instead, you felt a strong hand on your shoulder, holding you down in place. You questioned this and, as you tried to stand again, the man’s face came level with yours, just inches away. His eyes, brown and kind and obviously exhausted, met yours as an award-winning beam came to his face before it disappeared again.

“So, you know Jesse?” He averted your eyes when he asked you this, a shy grin coming to his face now but not as dazzling as the large smile you had seen just seconds before.

This question shocked you, but you answered by nodding yes, your head moving slowly like it was weighed down by a heavy object balanced on top of it.

“You must be her, then. He’s been trying to set me up with you for months.” He chuckled now and the sparkling light of the original smile returned. You blinked, unaware of what he’d just said.

“Wait, what? He’s been –” You repeated, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“Trying to set us up? Yes. For months.” He was still smiling and the effect was immobilizing to you. He moved his hand off your shoulder to push some long hair out of his face.

You smiled now, eased by the warming, home-y comfort of his large smile, and finally came up with your first coherent, sensible reply since you’d walked in here tonight.

“So, maybe I can finally learn your name then? Jesse absolutely held back all details earlier and I’ve been wondering.”

He kept grinning, his eyes boring into yours as if trying to search for a hidden gem, or truth, that you refused to give up.

“Why don’t I get yours first? I noticed you long before you noticed me.”

You smirked, “What proof is there to that?”

Looking at you kind of sideways with his head now tilted, he began to list his reasons.

“One, I’ve known for months that Jesse has been trying to get us together. Two, I already know your major. Three, I even know your favorite drink. And finally, four, I’m just right.”

You laughed now, the noise bringing the stunning smile back to his lips. “Okay. I’ll tell you mine. But only if we can stand up first. My knee is starting to hurt from this crouching.”

The man grimaced, as if suddenly realizing the mistake this was, and stood. When you had finished straightening your back, you found yourself blushing. This close of contact with the opposite gender had never been your strong suit or favorite thing. But, and you weren’t sure why you were inclined to make this assumption, you felt this man had a mystery to him and you wanted it to be your life’s new mission to be the solution to his mystery.

The man that now stood in front of you reached a height much above your own. Odd, considering you’d gotten used to being the tallest girl at most of your social functions and in school. But at your stature of 5 feet, 7 inches, you didn’t compare to this guy.

You stuck out your hand in the space now made between your bodies.

“I’m Y/N.”

Grinning, he stuck his hand out to meet yours. Pumping twice, he said, “Lin. Very nice to meet you.”

You both released from your awkward handshake greeting. Reaching up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, you blushed again.

Lin, watching you, only smiled before chuckling.

“So, what now?”