#can you tell i really like dog-faced puffers?

[paperbagpetrichor]

hey! since it’s joot’s bday, can i request him and the reader celebrating his bday?? 💕 thank you! btw i love your writing it’s so good 🥺💖💖

[ Pushed this one into priority since it’s his birthday - don’t worry, I’m still working on other requests! c: ]

When you awoke that morning, a smile upon your face, heart racing and mind buzzing with plans, ideas, speculations, hopes and dreams and wonders, it was as instantaneous as a nerve synapse sending a jolt of excitement throughout your body, reminding you over and over (although you certainly didn’t require the reminder) that today was one of the most important days of the year.  The man of the day lay awake beside you, sitting up with his bedside lamp on, browsing through a marine biology magazine.  By the sleep in his eyes you could tell he hadn’t been awake for very long - good news for you.  He didn’t so much as have a cup of coffee yet, and you committed that fact to memory as you hesitantly emerged from under the covers, gaining his attention.  “Good morning, birthday boy,” you greeted with a grin, leaning over his chest to catch a glimpse of his reading material.  Most of the words were a foreign language to you, but that didn’t matter, so long as he was content with them, which, you noted, he was, between your glances up and him and down at the magazine.  You liked the pictures.  You could understand those.  Marine life truly was beautiful, even if you didn’t understand all the ins and outs of it all.  

You didn’t receive a response save for a small pat on your head, a hand running through your hair, and a small noise of approval from Jotaro, who never once broke contact with the magazine.  To him, this was bliss.  You fixed yourself back to your side of the bed, slinging your legs off the side and preparing to hop out only for his voice to stop you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” his voice was still raspy from resting, and your head tilted to the side, opening your mouth to reply only for him to continue, “Stay with me for a little longer.”  The words melted your conflicted heart, whose tug-of-war between ideas was easily overcome by his request, and you smiled, more than happy to oblige, settling your head against his chest in an area he’d lifted his arm from, mechanically forming a spot for you to sync into him without second thought, you falling against him and his arm wrapping around you.  Coffee could wait, then.  Jotaro wasn’t the biggest cuddler in the world, but nevertheless he enjoyed your presence against him, even if his attention wasn’t completely devoted to you: just knowing that you were there, against him, irremovable and irreplaceable, was more than enough.  Your eyes followed his across the pages, diverging whenever a picture appeared.  Every now and then you’d recognize a fish from prior marine magazines or photographs, and, with great enthusiasm, would ask Jotaro if it was indeed the animal you thought it was.  With every correct answer he would give a nod and something like pride would bloom in his eyes.  In this volume, a variety of aquarium-ready species were being analyzed, most of which you knew, but every now and then a new surprise leaping up.  You’d ask what it was, and Jotaro would tell you the name, in addition to what it liked, the tank requirements, salinity levels, chemical balances, pH and hardness requirements, and ideal temperatures and habitats for it.  The sound of his stoic, confident voice fell like a beautiful song of tranquility against your ears.  

Eventually, upon reaching the second to last page, you shot up, a squeal escaping you.  Whatever that was, it was adorable!  “Jotaro, which one is this?” you inquired with puppy-dog eyes, guiding his view over to the specific picture with your pointer finger, staring up at him and awaiting a reply.

A corner of his lip tugged up.  “You like that one?  It’s a dog-faced pufferfish.”

“A dog-faced pupperfish?”  Your eyebrows knitted together with confusion as you examined it closer.  It did have a face reminiscent of a dog, but….“Isn’t that a little redundant?”

“Pufferfish,” he corrected, his chest rumbling against your body in a small snort dangerously close to forming a laugh.  He took your hand in his and guided it to the footnotes section of the page.  “They tell you here.  Good grief…”

You chuckled in response, a flush rising to your cheeks and planting a kiss on the bottom of his jawline as you slowly pulled away.  This time, he allowed you to do so, and you slipped out of the room and into the kitchen, taking two mugs and filling them with Jotaro’s favorite coffee blend, fixing it up just the way he liked it, before calling him out to the dining room after you’d finished making his favorite breakfast.  He wasn’t much of a morning person, or a night person, or an evening person, or - wait, where were you going with this?  Your thoughts were quelled as he emerged in the doorframe and took a seat next to you.  “Thanks.”

“Of course,” you replied, warmth radiating into you from his presence, watching as he dug in only for you to do the same.  A quiet morning like this was sometimes uncommon, so you thanked whatever greater spirit that may or may not have run the universe that today was such a day.  He deserved nothing less than perfection on his birthday.  And you were determined to deliver it.  After you were done and the dishes put into the sink, you began to implement your plan.  

Your first stop was the city aquarium.  Not the local one - that was way too small, and you knew it.  Besides, you were pretty certain Jotaro had already memorized all the types of fish there, and that wouldn’t be as fun as experiencing a new one.  You’d never been yourself, but it was huge.  As you and Jotaro strolled through, he’d occasionally point out a species or two per each exhibit, going over its basic information, only for you to point to a good four or five with childlike animation and ask if he knew what they were.  Usually he had some idea, but it was cute when he didn’t.  He’d rest his head in his hand, index finger lining against the bottom of his lip as he thought it over, only to give you a shrug as an answer.  Just as quickly as you were willing to put his knowledge to the test he was ready to do the same with you.  He made sure to pick easy ones, ones that almost everybody knew, giving you a nod every time you got one right (and bonus points if you could describe the species in more depth besides its name).  The way that you stood on your tip-toes or knelt down was adorable to him as you attempted to face the fish.  It was like you were saying hello to them, always offering a smile, before turning with your final verdict back to Jotaro for judgement.  When you messed up, it was usually with more difficult species, and you’d always pout without his praise, to which he would offer you his knowledge, and you would commit it to memory.  He hadn’t known where he was going when he initially got in the car with you.  Of course, he knew it was his birthday, the first one he would be sharing with you, but he was honestly surprised at how far out of your way you’d gone for him so far.  To some, that might not have been much, but it was everything to him.  There was nothing better than enjoying his most beloved hobby with his most beloved person in the entire world.  Usually his birthdays were just like any other day, he saw no purpose to elevating it as though it had some special purpose, of course, he knew you would’ve been planning something or other.  

As the two of you neared the end of the exhibits, a familiar face caught your attention, and you dashed off from Jotaro, who had lost you within the blink of an eye, narrowing his eyes and searching for you only to find you at the last tank, where you were bent over and fawning over something he couldn’t see.  “Jotaro!  Look, it’s the dog-faced pufferfish!”

He settled in step beside you, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning forwards to get a better view of the reason you were so elated.  Even he had to admit it was pretty cute.  And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered setting up an aquarium of his own, maybe in your bedroom, with marine life of its own, including if not especially those beautiful ‘pupperfish,’ as you had decided to call them.  The fish followed your face as you moved about its tank, keeping speed with you as though it never wanted your face to disappear, wiggling its tail as though a thrilled elementary-schooler at the sight of candy.  The fish’s disposition was reflected in you, a giant grin plastered over your face as you watched it.  “Do you like them?” you queried, taking a step back and instead fixing your expression back on your boyfriend.

“They’re interesting,” he replied, which was basically his way of saying ‘yes.’  He cast you a glance before beginning to walk off, you trailing behind him as you asked where the two of you were going next.  You already had a place in mind, but for whatever reason Jotaro seemed determined to designate the next choice to himself, and, as it was his birthday, you relented.  Whatever he wanted was what you wanted.  

To your surprise, he took you to an aquarium store.  You’d both visited often to look at the fish and plan for tanks together one day, Jotaro making up most of the compositions, of course, as you were still very clearly a novice with respects to fishkeeping, and you were rather excited to be there once more until your phone shook in your pocket.  You flicked it on and nearly threw it across the room.  Of course.  Of all the times your gift could have been ready, it was now.  Right as you walked into the place that had made it.  And, of course, as soon as the two of you began making your rounds, one of the workers called out your name.  Jotaro cast you a confused gaze as you followed the employee, him deciding to let you sort out whatever business you had there, the nature of which he couldn’t so much as put a finger upon.  

Well.  You’d planned to show it to him when it would arrive at your house, but, as the worker regretfully informed you, the only vehicle capable of such a large delivery was currently out of commission.  Basically, you were left with two options.  Give Jotaro his present in the presence of plenty of others, or show it to him at your house presumably days after the actual celebration was over.  Wonderful.  You pleaded with the employee, who simply shook her head and attempted to explain there wasn’t the slightest possibility that the two-hundred-gallon tank would fit in any of their sedans.  Admittedly you knew it wasn’t their fault, but you hated the fact that either way you’d have to ruin his gift like this.  

Just as Jotaro was beginning to head over to you, you stuck your head out from behind the aisle of custom-made tanks with various home-carved wood finishings, offering him a nervous grin.  “Hey, Jotaro, I’ve got something to show you over here.”

The tone of your voice and confusion within your own expression slightly startled him, but he gave you a nod and rounded the corner, only to be greeted with one of the most beautiful aquariums he’d ever laid eyes on.  The wood trimmings, stand, and cover were all a dark brown, embroidered with a small pattern of waves along the tops and bottoms, running the full length of the gigantic tank.  Tall drawers, perfect for sump storage, equipment placing, and settling food drew the bottom compartment into three sections, while atop the glass cover just beneath the chestnut top lay two LED lights, both with a variety of settings to encourage different aspects of aquarium growth.  He’d taken you here to get a small tank (big enough for the desired fish to be comfortable, of course) for your bedside, spurred by your reaction at the aquarium and how fond you were of his hobby, but now he was completely and totally at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry.  This isn’t exactly the ideal place to give you your gift, but I couldn’t get it delivered today, and I didn’t want it to be late,” you apologized, folding your hands in front of you nervously as you took a few steps back, showcasing the full size of the tank.  “But you were always talking about how you wanted an aquarium in the bedroom, so I thought I could get one customized for us.  I didn’t know what size, but I stole one of your books to get the dimensions needed for your favorite species,” you chuckled, trepidation still causing your voice to waver as you took in the unchanged expression of your boyfriend.  

He took a step toward you and, much to your surprise, slung his arm around your neck, a somewhat stunned incredulous (well, subtly surprised, but that was pretty much ‘shocked’ under Jotaro standards) look overcoming his face as he took it all in once more.  This was his?  That was where his book had gone?  You’d prepared all of this?  For him?  “[Y/n],” he began, and you tensed, awaiting some sort of disappointment, “thank you.  This is beautiful.”

You gave him a relieved hug.  “Of course!  It’s your birthday, after all.  I’m just sorry we have to wait to get it home.”

“Just knowing you did this - that it’s even here - is enough for me,” he responded lowly, hugging you to his side for a moment before letting go and heading back to the fish aisles

With befuddlement, you stumbled on after him, asking, “Wait, wait, what are you doing?” as you struggled to catch up with his long legs.

“Well, we have a tank.  I think some planning is next,” he replied, gesturing towards the vast variety of marine animals the store housed.  You broke into a smile and joined him.

Your eyes were absolutely taken by the gorgeous rainbow of colors that lay before you, everything from live rock to corals to fish to invertebrates, horseshoe crabs sifting through the sand in the brackish exhibits and gobies sticking their heads out from their holes in sync with their shrimp companions.  Where would the two of you even start?  Sure, you’d planned for Jotaro’s favorites, but he wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming with those ideas, so a great deal of it was left to the imagination.  

The both of you drew to a halt at a familiar sight.  You let out an enthralled gasp, suddenly forgetting everything around you at the view of the tank, watching those sweet faces press against the glass to meet yours.

Jotaro’s chuckle was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.  “Then we’re starting with a dog-faced puffer.”  

[hoe-doroki]

first snow

pairing: Shouto x reader

genre: fluff

wc: 2.2k

summary: sequel to “Siberia” (can be read alone). Just fluff, a year after the events in the previous story. You and Shouto are happily together, and it’s the first snow of the year.

a/n: This is my gift to the lovely @unlasting​ for the @bnhabookclub​ secret santa gift exchange!!! I was so happy I got you, darling, because I already love you so much! I do hope that you like this fic. You said you wanted fluff, so it is fluffy. For you and anyone else who just wants some simple, wintery fluff, but maybe don’t want to read the 13.8k prequel to this fic (or can’t, because it’s 18+), I took the liberty of making a “Cheat Sheet” post summarizing the events of “Siberia” so that this one is easier to enjoy. And thank you to @some-kindofgnome​ for reading this and hyping me up! <3

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

“First snow, first snow, first snow!”

You’d just glanced out the window, as you had been compulsively doing ever since you’d seen the weather report sporting the first good chance at snow for the season. Only a couple of flakes danced past the sill, but your quirk was tingling too, telling you that they were there and more were coming, just outside the apartment walls. In an instant, you were sprinting for the door, tugging boots on over your too-thin leggings, scrabbling for your keys, and running out the door without another word.

There was no time for the elevator. You were on the seventh floor, but you were a pro hero; you could run up that many flights of stairs at a moment’s notice, so running down would be no problem.

Each half flight you took the first three or four steps and then jumped the rest, landing with an echoing thud in the artificial light of the cold, brick stairwell. It was as though you were trying to make it to the ground floor before those first two flakes you’d seen, nebulous and carefree in their descent, hit the ground themselves. You wanted to see them, to catch them on your tongue and eyelashes before they met the pavement and turned to liquid.

You burst through the lobby, not sparing a glance for the concierge. You’d have to give him a smile and apologize when you came back in—you always made sure to greet whoever was staffing the desk when you were coming and going, especially during the holiday season.

Then you were outside, skin instantly pricking at the freezing air, but your quirk spread out and felt lush as you sensed all the tiny flakes floating down from above as though they were waiting for you. You grasped them, each snowflake in your quirk’s reach, and sent them funneling down toward you. It was still barely a flurry, as the snow was only just beginning to fall, but you reveled in it as you spun around. You were transported back, feeling like a little kid again.

It couldn’t last, though. You’d left your hero license upstairs and could get in trouble for using your quirk like this—even if you were a recognizable enough hero that no one would question your status upon seeing you. So before you got dizzy from twirling, you slowed down and released your hold on the little particles of ice, letting them fall as nature called them to.

The sky looked like a snow bank itself, gray like the ones you’d hopefully get to see around here in the city. The clouds hung low to the sky, heavy enough that you wondered if you’d gone for the roof instead of the front stoop you could have pulled at some of the water droplets, creating the snow yourself before the freezing air sent them tumbling with the wind. Your quirk was still getting stronger, so maybe you’d have the reach someday.

You heard footsteps behind you but paid no mind until you felt two hands putting a puffer coat on your shoulders. You reflexively put your arms through the sleeves before turning around, an unshakeable smile on your face.

“First snow,” you said again, calmer than before as you grinned at the man in front of you.

Shouto had a small smile on his face, but it was enough to crinkle his eyes, all of the fondness he held for you shining out of them. “I heard,” he said, his voice dry enough in tone that he could have been making fun of you. More realistically, he was just telling a simple truth.

He was bundled in his own puffer coat as well as gloves, a hat, and a scarf. In his hands, he held the same for you, but with earmuffs rather than the hat.

You smiled sheepishly as you took the soft knits one by one, putting on the scarf, then the earmuffs, and finishing with the gloves. A shiver rumbled out of you as your body tried to forget the cold and create enough warmth to insulate you in the new layers.

Wordlessly, Shouto took you in his left side and you felt the whispers of warmth wrapping around you, heating you up until even your toes had a little bit of hot blood back in them. You nuzzled into him, enjoying the contact even more then the warmth, and then shifted your gaze back up.

“So pretty,” you said, watching the little specks of pure white fall from the dove gray comforter above.

“Why are you so awestruck?” Shouto asked. “You can make it with your quirk. Snow is literally your hero name.”

“I don’t know,” you said, putting your left hand out and catching little snowflakes in your hand, bouncing them like circus fleas. Your favorite party trick. “It’s different when the Earth does it for me. Instead of work, it’s a gift. Just like when I manipulate your ice instead of making it.”

Shouto didn’t say anything, just let out a soft hum as he slid his arm from where it was slung around your shoulder down to your waist and pulled you in even more. The both of you watched the cars passing by on the street just in front of you, barely obscured by the air’s thin lace of snow. Their drivers were probably hoping for quick commutes, getting them home before the snow really started coming down, if it ever did.

It probably wouldn’t. Snow wasn’t that common in December in this prefecture, much less snow that would stick. You probably just had a few more minutes of this—hours if you were lucky. And then tomorrow it would be nothing more than a memory. By all odds, you’d have to make do with creating it yourself until January.

Shouto nudged you forward, moving to sit on the single step that separated the first landing of your building’s lobby from the sidewalk. He guided you to sit between his legs and you rested your arms on them. Those gangly legs reached most of the way up your ribs at the knee, but you slid back so that your back was flush to Shouto’s front. Then both of his arms were wrapped around your middle, cheek pressed against cheek.

“Things feel so quiet in the snow,” you whispered, watching the flakes falling from hundreds of feet up only to land silently, melting humbly against the sidewalk.

“Mm, peaceful,” Shouto agreed.

The two of you lived in the middle of the city, so the peace only carried so far. There were occasional passersby on the sidewalk, some with bags, some walking dogs. Drivers and cyclists continued rolling up and down the street either hurried by the snow or delayed. But the storm also kept people in, rendering the streets just a bit less bustling than usual. The world spun a bit slower, enjoying a bit of repose as the easy storm blurred the harsh lines and angles of the city block.

Your breath came to match Shouto’s, the only movement between the two of you being that of your ribs and your diaphragm. It created a push and pull into each other where you couldn’t tell if you were following Shouto or if he was following you. Your nose began to burn from the cold despite Shouto’s heat, but you didn’t mind. It was a rare day off from yours and Shouto’s work as a hero duo; you would stay out here until the snow stopped or night fell—whichever came first.

You tracked the snowflakes as they descended, watching the heavier ones sink as if tied with stones while others fluttered like aimless butterflies. Most of the flakes were small, portending a quick, transient storm. Or maybe the flakes really were like butterflies, migrating west until they came to rest out in the Pacific. You wanted to catch them while you could, so you stuck your gloved hand out and watched them collect, turning to droplets slower and slower the more you collected.

Eventually, you shook them off and let off a contented sigh, snuggling back against Shouto and turning your face up to the sky with a smile. The building’s overhang just missed where you were sitting, so the snow fell freely onto your skin, chilling you gently. It was a caring touch. It was the sugar dusted over the darkness and drudgery of winter.

“Marry me.”

The words were carried to your ear with such serenity that they must have been a trick of the snow. You’d misheard—if you’d heard anything at all. Wasn’t that question supposed to be preceded by a moment of anxiety, a moment of fear? But Shouto’s breath still had the even time of a slow drum being hit by the softest mallet.

“What did you say?” you whispered, gripping your gloved hands tighter around the slick material of one of his sleeves.

“I said, marry me,” Shouto said, his breath warm in your ear, unmistakable.

You looked down and saw a small box in one of his hands and the shock only buried itself deeper into the veins of your heart. This wasn’t spontaneous?

“You’re serious,” you whispered, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, one of your hands leaving his arm to come up to your mouth, your humid breath moistening the wool of your glove.

“I was going to wait until our anniversary,” he said into your cheek, “but I think this is a little more exciting to you that that will be.”

Your anniversary was days away, and your mind turned back to the similar hushed snowstorm from the night you’d gotten together. Maybe it had been the first snow of the season, maybe not. You’d been out of the country until that afternoon, and come home to find Shouto waiting for you.

“But it’s only been a year,” you said, not so much arguing as in disbelief.

“And we’ve only been living together a little over a month,” Shouto said into your neck. You turned around, leaning into his leg instead of his back, dying to see his eyes. To read the one part of his face you could always trust to give you his full expression, his every feeling. “But we’ve been partners for four years. That’s more than enough for me to know. What about you?”

You gave a nod, your joints slow either from the cold or the shock. “It’s enough for me too.”

“Is that a yes?”

Your hand came back to your mouth as your nodding became more vigorous. “Yes.”

Shouto reached around you with his second hand to open the box, revealing a dazzling ring.

“It’s six-sided,” you breathed, looking at the perfect hexagonal cut.

You felt Shouto’s nod against you. “Like a snowflake.”

“I thought you didn’t understand why I like snow so much?”

“I don’t,” Shouto said simply, his voice blunt in its honesty, but never reckless. It held you carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care that you love it. I love that you do.” He then nodded to the ring. “Do you want to put it on?”

You hummed in affirmation, pulling off your left glove and allowing for Shouto to help you slide the ring over your finger. The ring wouldn’t sparkle, the quickly setting December sun keeping the world dim for the time being. Instead, the sheer crystal of the diamond reflected back the light gray saturation of the clouds.

“I love you,” you said, jerking your eyes back to Shouto’s urgently. He already knew, of course—both of you had been impatiently quick in your relationship to say it—but you were desperate that he know in this moment. That there be no doubt. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Shouto said, and he bent in to catch your lips. Despite the awkward angle, your neck torqued nearly behind you in order to catch Shouto’s lower lip between yours, it was the sweetest kiss you could remember in ages. You leaned back even further, the curve of your spine leaning safely against Shouto’s thigh as you put your gloved hand to his cheek.

When your eyes opened again, the world had fallen into soft focus, the streetlights having flicked on. Their light was refracted by the snow that had quickly doubled in volume, frosting the sidewalk’s skeletal trees and just starting to fill the cracks on the sidewalks with piles of white.

“Now I’m always going to love the first snow too,” Shouto said, looking down at your bare hand and taking it in his warm one. His glove dispersed the heat he produced so that it felt inviting, comforting. Loving.

“I didn’t think I could love it more,” you mused as the snow continued to pick up, dusting the fronts of your boots and the shoulders of your coat.

Shouto pulled you back against his chest again, and you felt a big sigh ripple through his chest. He pulled you in close and whether you were against his right side or left, you felt nothing but warmth.

“I know the feeling.”

[0606-hyuck]

a letter to my lover | mark lee

♡  dear y/n, i’m writing you this letter in the hopes that it gets to you well. our relationship has been tumultuous, that’s for sure, and i thought it was high time i wrote you a letter detailing all the times you said "i love you" that are important to me. 

genre: mark x reader, fluff, supernatural!mark, changeling!mark

warnings: some violence and some profanity

word count: 3.5K

tagging: the lovely @roses-of-the-moon ♡ @mora134340 @ncteology + @nct-writers

To Y/N,

The first time you said “I love you,” you weren’t saying it to me.

When we met, I was working in a cafe as a barista. Trust me, I know how strange it was that I, a supernatural, all-powerful being, had a mundane day job. Hey, a man has to make his living somehow, even if he really isn’t as much of a ‘man’ as he appears. The cafe I worked at was a relatively unknown coffee house, tucked between a row of unassuming hand-made shops down a sleepy side alleyway. We saw enough customers that the cafe precariously stayed out of the reaches of liquidation, but a small enough number that I could easily recognise the faces of all our regular customers.

You piqued my interest because not only were you an unfamiliar sight in the quiet cafe, the first time you entered you almost jerked the hinges of the front door off as you rushed through the threshold. I was worried that you’d possibly been attacked or followed by a scumbag - lord knows there’s a lot of them in this town - but my mind was put somewhat at ease when you walked up to the counter and ordered a drink as if nothing had happened. It was the middle of winter, nearing -10℃, and you’d wrapped yourself up in a long black puffer coat and what looked like two scarves due to the blizzard currently blowing outside. I figured you were just in desperate need for a hot drink to warm your insides.

Although, you stunk. All humans have a certain scent that allows supernaturals to identify them, and yours was billowing off of you in massive waves. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, as I was used to being around humans all the time due to my job, it was just so much more overwhelming than I was used to. I guess it was my first indicator that there was something special about you.

I remember the way you leaned across the counter, close enough to my ear to murmur, “I would like a medium hot chocolate please - have here. When you call out my order, do you think you could pretend I ordered something else?” You then tilted back, fixed me a wide smile, and pulled out your card to pay for your drink. As I rang up your order on the till, I asked you, “what’s wrong with ordering a hot chocolate?” 

You shot me an incredulous look and replied, “do you know how embarrassing it is being that one adult that still orders hot chocolate? I love it so much but don’t particularly fancy being bullied for my drink of choice.” That was a fair point, I figured, and so I started to make your drink. Glancing around the cafe and seeing only a select few of other customers, I didn’t really feel the need to call your drink by any other name but I did so anyway because something told me you’d be upset if I didn’t.

“One medium cappuccino?” I called, and you walked up and took your hot chocolate happily. “Ugh, I love you,” you grinned. “For some reason baristas always forget to say it’s another drink, but not you!” I was somewhat surprised that you decided to take a seat at one of the nearby tables and, seeing as there were no other orders for me to make, I brought it up with you. I mentioned that you seemed like you were in a rush, what with the way you nearly broke the cafe door on your way in, and you started to tell me a story about how you were new to the neighbourhood and you’d ordered some furniture online but the delivery guys had left it in the lobby of your building so you’d spent most of the morning hauling pieces of furniture up to your apartment. You’d stopped for a warm drink but hadn’t realised just how cold it was outside, which is why you ran into the cafe panting like a dog. We chatted about the neighbourhood and I gave you suggestions on places and shops you should visit, and before we knew it you’d finished your hot chocolate.

You thanked me for the chat and introduced yourself as Y/N. I thought you were sweet, and so I told you my name was Mark, which it is. Obviously. I didn’t tell you that the dark skinned, tall, accented man in front of you was not my true appearance, but it didn’t really feel like a good idea to tell a complete stranger that I was supernatural - a changeling. In fact, it didn’t seem to matter because you ended up visiting the cafe a few days later anyway, as if you weren’t being real-life catfished.

The second time you said, “I love you”, you were begging me to stay.

After your first visit to the cafe I worked at, Y/N, you became my favourite regular. You always came in and asked for the same thing - a medium sized hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows. We naturally fell into this routine where, as soon as you walked in the door, I would start making your drink while you fumbled for your credit card. You would pay, grab a spare seat, and I’d put the finishing touches onto your drink, making sure to add a smiley face in chocolate drizzle. 

I’d call out your order as something other than what it was, and as we got to know each other the ‘fake drink’ became more and more bizarre. An iced coffee, when there was clearly steam swirling from the cup. A pumpkin spice latte, said in the most basic American accent I could manage in order to embarrass you. If I was feeling daring enough, sometimes your fake drink would be ‘goblin piss’, ‘rat breast milk’, or any other disgusting and clearly fake drink I could come up with. It became the highlight of my day seeing how embarrassed I could make you, because you were super cute when you were pissed off.

For some reason, you decided to stick around for the teasing, much to my relief. You always made my day brighter when you came in to tell me a funny story about your coworkers or the absolutely crazy thing your blind and incredibly sassy 70 year old neighbour said to you. You liked to pretend talking to me was such an effort, but you always made sure you grabbed the seat closest to the counter so you could chat with me while I finished off other customers’ orders.

One thing I noticed, even this early on, was how natural it felt to be with you, Y/N. We got on so well, and the usual anxiety I experienced when having conversations with strangers or acquaintances disappeared. There was never any feeling of “oh god, what embarrassing thing am I going to say next?” and if I did say something weird, you didn’t seem to mind.

Thus, it felt natural to me to ask for your number. It felt natural for us to hang out at your place, or for me to help you put together the last pieces of furniture for your apartment. It felt natural to go for dinner with you, to watch movies together, to go on strolls in the evenings. After a few months, it felt natural to hold your hand as we perused the shops, to kiss your cheek after walking you home, to hold you close when the nights were slightly too cold for our liking. We never put a label on our relationship, but we both knew we really liked each other.

So why couldn’t I tell you what I really was?

I wish I’d been honest with you from the very beginning, Y/N. It would have saved us so much hurt and heartbreak. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you I was a changeling, really. I was young, so maybe I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me when you realised my whole appearance was a lie. I tried to tell myself, “so what if I can change my appearance? Y/N isn’t that shallow that they’d stop liking me if I showed my true self,” but I knew the issue ran much deeper than just my appearance. I’d been lying to you about myself - my goddamn species - for months now that I would totally understand the betrayal you would feel if I told you the truth.

The day you found out I was a changeling was not when, or how, I planned to tell you. The underground club was seedy, my friends were seedy, the other patrons were seedy - it was the kind of place where supernaturals and humans with no morals tended to spend their time and money. There was no point trying to hide my appearance behind a facade that night, as keeping up a fake appearance in a darkened club would unnecessarily waste my energy. So for the first time in a long time I’d dropped my favoured appearance for my true identity - Mark Lee, young 20-something with tan skin, shaggy brown hair, and a cheeky smile. My friends had dragged me here, and I was begrudgingly trying my hardest to enjoy my time when I spotted you.

You were working late that night, which is why we weren’t hanging out together, but from the way your friends all crowded together it was easy to guess they’d convinced you to come along to the club for some fun after work. The problem was, this wasn’t a good club. This was the kind of club where disguised demons, vampires, incubi, and other supernaturals came to take advantage of unknowing mortals. Steal their wallets, feed off of them, sell their soul to the devil - that kind of thing. It was incredibly unsafe for you and your friends to be there, which is why I marched right over to you and told you so.

Only, I forgot I wasn’t disguised. While I was calling you your usual pet names and trying to convince you to come home and watch a movie with me, you had no idea who I was. You stared at me with wide eyes as I clutched your shoulders and pulled you close as I tried to tell you how unsafe it was here. You still showed no signs of recognition, so I assumed you’d already had too much to drink and were just inebriated to the point where you didn’t even recognise your own boyfriend. I said how my name was Mark and I worked at a cafe, and you always came in and ordered a hot chocolate but asked me to call it out as something else. It was only when you started calling me a “weird fucking stalker” that I realised my mistake.

I managed to pull you to a corner of the club and changed my appearance in front of you. I went from my true self - the real Mark - to the dark, green eyed, accented Mark you knew as your boyfriend. You watched in awe as my skin stretched, my nose shifted, and my face and body changed in this little corner of the club. I asked you to follow me and didn’t give you a chance to reply as I tugged you out of the club, narrowly missing a wild fist swung in my face followed by a shout of “dirty little changeling!” 

You were clearly confused and slightly freaked out, but we made it to your apartment where I finally explained the truth. How I was a supernatural, how I was a changeling, and how I’d essentially been catfishing you this whole time. Y/N, it was so devastating to watch the way the betrayal spread across your face - how your eyebrows crinkled downwards, your lips curved into a confused frown, and your eyes started to tear up.

We sat in silence for a few moments too long, and then you asked what that meant for us.

I told you that I loved you. But we couldn’t be together anymore. I couldn’t live with myself if I introduced you to this dangerous supernatural world and something happened to you. I loved you so much that I couldn’t put you in a situation where you could be hurt. You started crying and Y/N, oh god, it was the worst. I wanted to hug you and reassure you that everything would be fine, but how could I do that when I was breaking up with you? I still remember the way your voice cracked when you said “but I love you Mark, please don’t leave me.”

It was so tempting to stay with you, but I knew I couldn’t. You were a human and I was supernatural - as your boyfriend, it would be my responsibility to keep you safe, and how could I do that when I was so entangled with supernatural life? The fist swung my way as we were leaving the club was the perfect example. People hated me purely for my species, and I couldn’t, in good conscience, expose you to that kind of violence and hate.

So, we broke up.

The third time you said, “I love you”, it wasn’t you saying it to me.

A few months after we broke up, Y/N, the cafe I worked at closed down. I don’t even know all the details, but apparently the owner lost all their money on making poor bets and the cafe had to be sold off. Either way, I found myself working as a barista at a new coffee shop on the other side of town. Working at the old cafe hadn’t been the same since you stopped coming in, as seeing you was the highlight of my day, so I wasn’t that bothered about finding a new job. The new cafe was located in a more affluent part of town, where there were more humans than supernaturals, and I felt comfortable enough to be myself - the real Mark - and not hide behind a fake appearance. 

Besides, I’d ditched my other appearance shortly after we broke up. Everytime I looked in the mirror, I was reminded of how much you loved my rich green eyes, how you would fall into a giggle fit when I smiled in your direction, every time without fail, and the way you caressed my skin when no one was around.

Even though we weren’t together anymore, Y/N, and we hadn’t seen each other since that night, I still thought about you all the time. I couldn’t help but remember you when there was a heavy snowstorm, or when I saw someone wrapped in copious amounts of winter clothes. Whenever I saw couples strolling through the streets in the evenings, or when a young child ordered a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, you were always in the back of my mind.

I tried dating other people, too. About a year after our breakup my friends convinced me to sign up for a dating app. I met up with humans, vampires, fae, werewolves, other changelings - literally any creature you could possibly think of - but it just didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel natural. Conversations felt forced, silences were extremely awkward, and no one understood my jokes the way you did. I tried my best to forget about you, I really did, but in the two years we were apart the lack of your presence haunted me like a ghost. It’s funny now that I look back on this time, because just when I thought my life would never get better again, you reappeared.

It was a Thursday, and I was nearing the end of my shift. The weather was nice for this time of the year, and I’d mentally made plans to take a walk down by the river and enjoy the sun while it lasted. I was giving the coffee machine a good clean when the bell over the door chimed, letting me know I now had another customer. The person who walked in was unfamiliar to me, meaning they weren’t a regular customer, and they sauntered over to the counter with an air of confidence I hadn’t seen in a long time. 

They leaned towards me to give me their order, and I remember getting a whiff of them - they were supernatural, and if I had to guess they were a changeling like me. They smelled familiar, vaguely like you, actually, but I knew that wasn’t possible. You were a human, after all, and a stinky one at that. Maybe this person had passed you on the street and your strong scent had clung to them? They cleared their throat and asked, “could I please have a medium hot chocolate with extra marshmallows? Also, if possible, could you please call out another drink, as if I had ordered that instead? I’ll love you forever if you do.”

I stood as still as (un)humanly possible as I processed your words. Firstly, there were no other customers in the cafe, why would I have to pretend the hot chocolate was anything but? And secondly, those words were almost an exact copy of what you said to me the first time we met, at my previous job. “Well, what are you waiting for?” the customer questioned, shooting me an unmistakably familiar grin. And then it all clicked into place.

God, the shock I felt when I realised the person in front of me was you, Y/N! I almost launched myself over the counter to hug you but was stopped when I remembered I’m not athletic enough to do that. You simply winked back at me and transformed into your true appearance right in front of my face - two seconds ago you were a stranger and now you were the love of my life, standing a few feet away. I ran to the door to flip over the open/closed sign and then gave you the biggest hug ever before I proceeded to make your hot chocolate the way I remembered you liked it and chat with you like the old times.

The last time you said “I love you” was exactly twelve minutes and thirty seven seconds ago.

When you explained to me how you’d hunted down a centuries-old witch and convinced her to change you into a changeling, I was utterly speechless. I didn’t even know that was possible! You said you’d done it to prove to both myself and you that you were strong enough to protect yourself from the supernatural, and what better way to do that than becoming a supernatural yourself? (your words, not mine). There was so much we needed to catch up on, and hanging out together again felt just as natural as it did the first time.

The way you invited me back to your apartment so we could chat well into the early hours of the morning felt so natural. When I told you that I’d never stopped loving you, despite not seeing you for two years, and you kissed me as if nothing else in the world mattered felt so goddamn natural. There was no protest from either side when we both decided to move into our own home together, only hilarious disagreements over the colour of our backsplash in the kitchen.

I decided to write this letter not to tell you how much I love you (because I tell you that about ten times a day anyway), but because I think our love story is a very interesting one, and it’s a rollercoaster of a ride to look back on. Actually, while I was writing this, you tried to come into the study but I have the door locked so you couldn’t. I don’t want you to know what I’m writing until it’s completely finished, and I can watch the emotions on your face as you read through my words. 

I think you were screaming about seeing a bug? A centipede? I jokingly replied and said I was too busy, although I was planning to come out and help you in a second, and you stomped off and returned a minute later saying, “I love you Mark, but you’re no longer needed because it turns out I can actually get rid of bugs by myself.”

I know you were being sarcastic, but it’s comments like that that make me smile and so thankful for the person that I’ve ended up with. It’s funny, when you walked through the door of the coffee shop for the first time two years ago, neither of us would have guessed this is what life would have in store for us. I can’t imagine what I’d be doing right now if you hadn’t burst into my life like a madman wrapped in multiple scarves that one winter day.

Here’s to the rest of our lives, my beautiful, supernatural, slightly crazy love.

Yours truly,

Mark :))

© 0606-hyuck 2021. All Rights Reserved.

[perfeggso]

I don’t want a lot (Johnny x Reader)

I wrote this as part of @suh-insane’s walking in a winter wonderland collab, so thanks to her for hosting! Happy holidays and I hope y’all enjoy ❄️☺️

Genre: domestic fluff

Characters: Johnny, fem! reader, Ten

Warnings: nothing really just mentions of bad things that have happened this year lol. It’s a very...2020 fic. Also I guess some language. Also, smoking pot.

Rating: teen and up

Length: 3.5k

My movie quote is “They can’t evict you on Christmas! Then you’d be ho-ho-homeless!”

December 18th 2020, 4:37 p.m.

“Knock, knock!” You pound your fist against the wooden door in front of you, then pull your coat tighter around you. You’d moved to Chicago five years ago for college, and you’re still not sure if you’ll ever adjust to the snowy winter months. It was at said college that you met,

“Johnny Suh!” You bang a fist on the door three more times. “I know you’re in there. Take your headphones off, you dumbass.”

You’re about to pull your phone out of your pocket and go to the trouble of removing a glove to text your boyfriend when you hear the door unlock from the inside, a metallic tumbling sound.

When the door opens all the way, Johnny is standing just past the threshold of his apartment, his catlike lips curled up at the edges. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a blue flannel, and his freshly dyed blond hair falls to where his headphones rest around the base of his neck. You can hear Nirvana coming from them because you are dating a stereotype.

Johnny leans his large frame against the side of the door where he had been holding it and smirks, but there’s nothing but softness behind the expression.

“Long time no see, sicko,” he teases.

You roll your eyes as he moves to let you pass into the entryway of his and Ten’s shoebox dwelling.

“You look even more like a deadbeat than you did a month ago,” you say, not moving because your clothing is starting to drip melting snow onto the floor and you don’t even know where to begin with taking it off. “This is proof you need me around taking care of you.”

Johnny pushes off the door and closes it, pausing his music. He crowds close and starts unwrapping your scarf so you don’t have to think about it anymore, shakes some of the slush off it so it pools at your feet, and hangs it on the coat rack. He does the same with your puffer jacket.

“Aw,” he pouts, “you don’t like the new color?” He tries to remove your beanie too, but it was part of your Outfit, so you yank it back down onto your head and give Johnny puppy dog eyes, choosing to ignore the way your heart rate picks up a little from the proximity. Hey, isolation was rough, okay? Johnny tucks your hair behind your ears instead.

“No, baby,” you say, starting to toe off your snow boots. “I love it. It’s very Disney prince, but simultaneously very… Kurt Cobain.” Johnny smiles and lets you finish stripping your winter gear, walking his way back towards his sofa until he’s sitting, legs wide. Snow falls in flurries past the window behind him. “It’s just that, I dunno, you look like you’ve been spending more time on Reddit or something.” Johnny sulks jokingly at your ribbing as you hang up your purse and try not to fixate on how cold the indoor air still is. “I can tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while,” you continue. “Oh wait! I forgot you have Ten around for that.”

Now it’s Johnny who’s rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t seem too offended because he beckons you over to sit with him. You follow his gesture, skipping towards him until you can curl into his side on the couch. He removes his headphones and lays his head against the crown of yours, taking your hand softly.

“It’s not my fault my girlfriend abandoned me for a month,” he complains, rubbing his thumb over yours.

This makes you chuckle. Oh, how you’ve missed him. “If that’s what you call ‘considerately protecting you from the Novel Coronavirus’,” you joke, “then I guess, but I refuse to apologize for doing my civic duty.”

Your case hadn’t been bad, but it was a logistical nightmare. You’d spent two weeks in total isolation, nursing a cough, guzzling hard alcohol straight to see if you could taste it, sending your best friend out to shop for you, and thanking your lucky stars for having a job that would let you work from home. You’d spent the next two waiting to test negative for the virus and a positive for antibodies. Johnny was initially distraught when you told him, sending you cloying messages and calling everyday to see if your symptoms were getting better or worse. Once you’d convinced him you weren’t dying though, he went back to his usual obnoxious self, joking about planning your funeral and accusing you of faking it to avoid him.

Johnny pulls you tighter into his side. “Whatever,” he concedes. “Is it safe to kiss you yet?”

You look up at him and shrug. “Nothing’s 100% but…”

That’s all the reassurance he needs to pull you into his lap and connect your lips. It's soft and languid, and you hold each other through it. His arms are so solid around your waist it simultaneously makes your heart flutter and makes you feel like you could relax and take a nap right here and now. When you pull away, Johnny runs his hands along your figure, as if to reassure himself you’re really there. The smile he gives you glows, but only for a moment. You curl yourself into the crook of his neck and place the back of your hand on his cheek, tender. His skin there scratches yours just the tiniest bit.

“I missed you,” he says, chuckling.

“Mm-hm, I missed you too,” you reply. “How are you, anyway? You said you had something to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. He maneuvers you off his lap to sit by his side, and from this angle you can truly tell that he’s going sheepish. Suddenly it feels like there’s an alien hand in your stomach. What could this possibly be about? Johnny’s nervous silence gets your brain spinning – a zoetrope of stupidity. Am I being broken up with? No – obviously not. Does he have a family member dying of COVID? I fucking hope not; that’d be complicated on multiple levels. Maybe it’s good? Maybe he finally got a job offer but he has to move away or something.

Johnny starts talking before your mind can come up with any other ridiculous hypotheses.

“We’re getting evicted.”

You furrow your brow. Had you misheard him? You shake your head, incredulous. Johnny and Ten had always maintained a good relationship with their landlord. It didn’t make sense for everything to turn on a dime, even if they were struggling financially.

“You’re kidding,” is all you manage to say.

Johnny just purses his lips and raises his eyebrows as if to say, “it is what it is.”

What he really says is that he wishes he was kidding, but he’s not.

“Oh my god,” you respond, crossing your arms in irritation at, well, at everything lately. “Fuck! When is this happening?”

Johnny sighs. “Technically in a week.”

You feel the cogs of your post-COVID brain start to crank against each other. A week from today would be…hold on,

“Wait,” you say, as the situation starts to appear more and more ridiculous. “Like exactly a week from today? Like on Christmas? You’re being evicted on literal Christmas?” You’re trying really hard not to raise your voice, even if it’s clear that if you did, it would be out of indignation on Johnny’s behalf. You’re obviously not upset with him.

Johnny’s eyes roll around in their sockets as if this is the first time he’s contemplated the exact timing.

“Well, yeah, I guess a week from today is Christmas…”

The absurdity of this all is getting to you, and you can’t help it, you start to laugh. It’s that kind of nihilistic, fuck-all laughter that’s been one of the few things getting you through this year.

“They can’t evict you on Christmas!” you quote. “Then you’d be ho-ho-homeless!”

Johnny looks at you blankly for a second, so you contort your face into that open expression universally recognized as the “get it?” face.

“From Go?” You hint. “C’mon, Johnny boy.”

And before his nickname can fully escape your mouth, your boyfriend is cutting you off with a long sound of recognition and doubling over his lap in giggles.

“Good one,” he says into his right knee, and you giggle along with him. “Wholly inappropriate, but clever nonetheless.”

“Why, thank you,” you say, enjoying the levity, but unable to uproot the feeling of dread in your gut at Johnny’s conundrum.

Go is one of you and Johnny’s favorite movies to watch around Christmastime, mostly because it’s only tangentially related to Christmas, it’s kitschy and ridiculous, and has a plot that is 90% crime. You’re surprised he didn’t catch the reference more quickly, but to his credit, he has more pressing worries taking up mental space.

“Where is Ten, anyway?” you ask, looking around performatively at the messy and claustrophobic room. A silver plastic Christmas tree twinkles on a table in the corner. “Have you two talked about a plan yet?”

“He’s grocery shopping,” Johnny explains. “He’ll be home soon. And yeah, we have an idea.”

“You do? Because you could always move in with me.”

Johnny scrunches his face up. “I would love to live with you.” Your heart rattles a little in excitement, even though you know there will be a ‘but.’ Johnny goes on, “but you know both of us wouldn’t fit in your apartment. Where would Ten sleep? Or put his stuff? We’d all be on top of each other.”

You nod, defeated because you know he’s right.

“Hey,” Johnny says, “but we can always have the ‘moving in’ conversation again, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Sounds good.”

It suddenly feels very dark in the apartment (it’s still chilly enough you think you might be able to see your breath, but you aren’t about to complain because you know there’s a very good reason for that), so Johnny pushes himself up off the couch to turn on a couple of lamps.

“So,” he says, facing you from across the room, “we’re gonna be evicted on Christmas, no matter what the cinematographic masterpiece that is Go tells us is right or wrong. Christmas is just as much of a capitalist construction as our rent, after all.”

You’re about to pipe up again about how fucked that is and how surely they can come to some sort of agreement with the landlord, but Johnny anticipates this and keeps talking.

“We tried to argue, babe, but as I know you know, we don’t exactly have much of a leg to stand on.”

Johnny is right. Again. How many months behind were they on rent at this point? They’d gotten a few months delayed back in spring, but they still owed everything that built up from that before the end of the year, and they’d blown through their stimulus check a long time ago. Johnny has tried to find work, but the theater business hasn’t exactly been booming. Ten, for his part, is able to make a bit of money doing freelance illustration and teaching dance classes over Zoom from his room, but his studio’s engagement has dropped since March and he still unfortunately gets paid per student. You can’t help wanting to punch a wall in frustration at how unfair this all is, but it’s not like any of it comes as a shock. You’re not naïve. You and Johnny met at a leftist theory club for Christ’s sake.

“We’re helping organize a rent strike,” Johnny says, calming you down. Finally, a glimmer of hope. “We’re not the only ones in the building going through it right now, and we know a lot of the tenants who aren’t being evicted well enough we can convince them to join.”

Right then, the front door flies open and thwacks a startled Johnny in the back.

“I’m home!” Ten calls from behind a sack of groceries. You can’t even see his face yet. “I’m terribly sorry,” he directs at Johnny, then heaves the bag of food onto the kitchen counter which is also sort of in the middle of the living room.

“Ooh,” he coos when he sees you, still sat on the couch. “The missus is back!” He strips himself of his winter coat, ignoring your scoffing and revealing an oversized red and white striped sweater. He shimmies against the cool air and lets out a sort of squeal. “I was not built for this actual winter shit.”

“Hi, Ten,” you say once he finishes his theatrics. “Missed you.”

Ten shoots a sappy pout your way. “I miss you too. I’m so glad you’re feeling better! You have no idea how morose Johnny got without you constantly around. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod and try to warm up Ten’s tiny frame with yours while Johnny mutters something about Ten not knowing what “morose” means. When you break away, Johnny is rifling through the week’s haul to put things away.

“I see you didn’t go off-brand for the ramen,” Johnny remarks, stacking several Shin bowls in the cupboard. He turns to Ten with a raised brow. “Big spender.”

“They didn’t have anything else but if you would answer your damn phone I could have called and asked you about it.”

“I answer my phone,” Johnny grumbles, stowing some orange juice away in the fridge.

“Besides,” Ten continues, ignoring his roommate, “since I’m the only one making any money in this household I figured I’d give myself some discretion for spending it.”

Johnny grimaces, and you figure this is where you should probably step in.

“We were just talking about the rent strike, Ten. Johnny was filling me in.”

Ten turns his attention back to you, letting Johnny house the food items in peace.

“We’ll see how it goes,” says Ten, looking out the window just past your shoulder, “but I’m letting myself hope a little bit. As far as I’m concerned, they’ll be kicking my corpse out of here before they put me on the streets.”

Johnny scoffs. “Always so dramatic.”

“Says the former theater major.”

“Touché.”

You’d missed the ‘old married couple’ dynamic your boyfriend has with his roommate.

“But really, just, please try not to get the cops involved,” you plead. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” says Johnny as he closes the last cabinet and crinkles the brown paper bag up for storage.

Ten shrugs. “No promises.”

You sigh.

Once everything is good and settled a few moments later, Ten decides the apartment needs a more festive atmosphere, so that’s how you end up getting dragged down the short hallway to Johnny’s room while Ten belts Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” from the living room and accuses Johnny of being a scrooge. Even still, Johnny sways playfully from side to side as he walks backwards, shimmying his shoulders and mouthing the words with a smile between protestations that this is “not how I envisioned finally spending time again with my girlfriend!” The way he buries his hands into the sleeves of his flannel to make sweater paws makes your heart so full you want to curl up and die. But, moving on.

Once in his bedroom, Johnny flicks on a warm-hued lamp and watches fondly as you collapse on the bed.

“I really did miss you guys,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time in an hour.

Johnny’s lips press into a little smile. “Yeah. We missed you. A lot. Especially me – you have no idea.”

You laugh sardonically. “Based on your text messages, I think I actually do have an idea.”

Johnny flops down on top of you, crushing you a bit.

“Oh really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His golden hair is falling in your face and it tickles, but Johnny halts any laughter with a kiss, then dots tiny kisses all over your cheeks and nose. They tickle too.

“You wanna smoke?”

“Sure.”

Johnny has a pre-rolled joint on his bedside table, and you watch him light it, feeling like you’re in a snow globe with the fall of snowflakes outside. The sky is that weird greyish off-yellow that only comes with a snowy night.

After a couple of hits, Johnny lies back down next to you and hands you the joint. The smoke brings you that usual tight feeling, like your lungs are shrinking but at the same time swimming in radiant heat. You don’t know if you should technically be doing this right after COVID, but you’re young and your body is resilient; you figure you’ll be fine. Besides, you can already feel the pleasant lightness setting in around your mind. It’s a placebo at this point, no doubt, but the relaxed anticipation is nice. You take note of the fact that Johnny had started playing music while you were thinking about lungs. The Strokes’ “Under Control” is doing battle with Ten’s Christmas tunes still seeping in through the cracks in the door.

You hand Johnny his joint back and roll onto your side, supporting your head with one hand and curling the other into Johnny’s abundant hair.

“I just want to say one more time,” you begin, “if worse comes to worst, you can always move in with me.”

Johnny takes another hit and holds it for a second, leaving you in anticipation.

“I know,” he says simply. “But I really think this’ll work. I have to, right? Besides, if Ten had to hear us fucking multiple times a week we would all start to regret living together. That, I can promise.”

You laugh, burying your increasingly silly-feeling head into Johnny’s chest. “Okay, fair.”

There’s stillness for a few beats where you just count your and Johnny’s breaths, trying to synch them up. This doesn’t work though, since Johnny’s lungs are bigger. Then,

“There’s no way your parents would lend you some money?” Your voice comes out quiet. “Or let you stay with them for a while?”

Johnny looks down at you, letting out a heavy sigh. “No, no. That wouldn’t be a good idea for…so many reasons. Besides, they don’t exactly have an extra few months worth of Chicago rent lying around either.”

You nod against Johnny’s chest. “I figured,” you say. “Just checking.”

Johnny brushes his fingers through your hair and kisses your part. “I appreciate your concern,” he says, offering a slightly sly smile.

You kiss the white fabric of his undershirt. It’s been so long since the two of you just laid together, and it feels better than you could have hoped, Johnny’s body heat helping to alleviate some of the cold of an apartment gradually losing its utilities. You wish you could get closer than chest to chest. You kind of wish you could burrow into him, but not in a weird way, you know?

“I believe in you guys,” you say. “However I can help, I will.”

“Thanks.”

Apparently, Johnny is done with talking, because he pulls you in for a warm kiss. Then, he gets the brilliant idea to shotgun the pot smoke. This activity quickly devolves into a very giggly makeout session, only to be interrupted by Ten’s voice outside the door.

“I’m opening the door in five seconds, you guys,” he says, “and if Johnny’s dick is out when I get in there, I’m evicting both of you myself!”

You and Johnny fall together laughing as Ten cautiously cracks the door. He swats at the air in disapproval.

“Stinks…” he remarks. “Oh, thank god you’re decent. Anyway, John, if the lady is staying for the evening, you both need to come help cook dinner, because I am not your housemaid, even if I do look good in a maid costume. Chop-chop.”

It takes way too long to get up out of bed because Ten, as usual, has made both you and Johnny absolutely lose it. Eventually, you manage to rise, but Johnny pulls you quickly back against his lap.

“Hey!”

“Just a minute.” He presses one last kiss under your left ear. “I love you.”

You can feel your skin tingle, although it might just be the weed. Either way, you’ll never tire of hearing that. “I love you too, Johnny.”

“I think Mariah was right,” Johnny whispers, voice displaying mock awe as if he were coming to a mind blowing realization. “All I want for Christmas is you.”

You give him a sympathy chuckle because that was kind of cute, in a corny way, and Johnny just swats your ass a little in response to get you back up to standing.

“Well, you and some basic shelter would be ideal,” Johnny deadpans. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask but I guess we’ll see.” You smile sympathetically. This strike is no doubt going to make for a stressful week, but you’re glad it’s starting like this.

“Hey, love birds!” Ten hollers from the kitchen.

“C’mon,” you say with a laugh. “Let’s not leave him waiting any longer.”

[shereadsandwritesformelanin]

The Baker And Her Actor Part II!

The Baker And Her Actor: part II: [The Dog Park]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind, and to be honest you can’t either.

Warnings: profanity, sexual content, angst, but overall fluff!

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have request feel free to share those!!

Previous Part(s): Part(s) --> (1)

—-

Y/n’ Point Of View:

You wake up to the moist kisses your dog Haneli places all around the surface of your face.

The best way to wake up.

“Hey girl, good morning baby.” You say petting her thick fur.

You play with your pup entertaining her for awhile in your bedroom, practicing tricks and just goofing around.

“Hey wanna go to the dog park today?” You ask Hanlei as if she’d respond.

Even though she couldn’t talk you could tell by the way her eyes lit up she was fond of the idea.

You walk toward you small closet, reaching up to find something cozy to wear.

You decide on a pair of navy blue adidas leggings a black long sleeve you probably got from a thrift shop a puffer jacket and black scarf to cozy up in.

“Okay you ready?” You ask your pup

She wags her tail in agreement.

You grab her collar and clip on her leash brushing over her fur once more before locking the door to your loft apartment.

It was another beautiful fall Boston day. The way the leaves had turned a shade of pumpkin orange and fiery red, the scenery of the small town never seized to impress you.

You reach the dog park unhooking Haneli from her leash, pulling out a bag of her treats.

You thought to take this time to continue to work on tricks and commands with her.

 Seeing she was only 6 months old and almost as big as you, you thought commands would be necessary.

“Okay Haneli, circle me.’ You can do it girl, circle me.” You command holding her favorite treats in your palm.

Just like that she circles you twice, you throw her two treats. You watch her race to get her treats.

Playing with Haneli you couldn't help but recap on last nights events. 

You just couldn't wrap your head around why Scott Evans, of all people would not only follow you, but lurk on you page liking pictures from over 2 years ago.

Was Chris apart of this? 

You couldn't help but think it, I mean it was a possibility right? 

Unlikely.

You snap out of your thought when you laid eyes on your now bored 6 month old golden retriever. She wagged her tail waiting patiently to go at it again.

“Sorry girl, let’s go again. Circle me, c’mon you can do it.” You encourage.

You amazed at how flawlessly she executed the trick, bending down you give her the treat in one hand while petting her in the other.

“That was a good trick.”

The voice startled you. You stumble back a little clutching your chest

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. I just noticed you and wanted to say hello.” Chris apologized

He looked amazing, how can a man look so good but so simple.

He even had on the grey sweatpants.

“Oh it’s no big deal, I scare easy anyway.” You giggle attempting to relieve some of the nervous tension.

Haneli interrupt,  breaking her way through your legs.  You watch as she makes her way over to whom you assume is the dodger Kiara had told you about. You both watch mesmerize as your dogs interact, doing what they do best, sniffing one another.

“So cute.” You say breaking this silence.

“Right!’ What’s your dogs name?” Chris asks.

“Her names Haneli.” You blurt

“Haneli, I like it.” Chris compliments.

You wondered how he knew it was you from afar. I mean the way you stood versus the way he approached, it was strange he instantly knew it was you.

Was it because He and Scott were potentially cyber stalking you the previous night.

Just ask him, be bold.

“So, how did you know it was me if my back was toward you?” You question head hung low.

“Your hair, can’t miss it.” Chris jokes mimicking the shape with his hands.

“Kind of wished my hair looked like that, maybe if I wore a bonnet.” He follows

You immediately lock eyes with him not sure if he was serious or joking, either way it was indeed hilarious.

You break through your nerves laughing at his adorable joke. You could tell he was only trying to relate and make you feel comfortable.

“Well we should get going, I have to open the shop for the afternoon shift.’ You explain. “It was nice seeing you again, for the third time.” You tease

“Yeah I guess are interactions are a little frequent, but y/n can I, maybe have your number. If it’s isn’t a problem for you, no pressure.” He stammered.

Was the Chris Evans nervous to ask for your number? Wait scratch that, did the Chris Evans ask you for your number?

You were definitely just as nervous as him, but you could not pass up this opportunity to at least be friends. 

“Um of course, sure.” You comply immediately

Taking his phone the screen trembled as you typed, you hadn’t done this is a while. It was so foreign to you.

For your photo you snap a quick picture of haneli, smiling down at her adorable face.

“Cute.” Chris chuckles taking his phone back from your much smaller hands. “I’ll text you later?” He says almost as a question.

“Only if you want.” You shy

“Luckily for you, I do.” Chris smirks gathering dodger walking away.

You felt your stomach churn in excitement, those damn butterflies were fluttering again.

His scent was intoxicating and his Boston accent was sexy, it was enough to make you crumble.

You hoped he would actually text you, with him being a big name in Hollywood you doubt if he’d ever been have time to get around to you.

—

Chris’s Point Of View:

Y/n looked beautiful today.

The way her hair was up in a beautiful updo, and her athletic clothes. Those leggings that fit her curves hugging her ass so well, she had a nice ass.

Stop it Chris.

Your outfit completely captured her essence.

To be completely transparent I had come here to walk dodger and get some fresh air, when I noticed she was here I couldn’t help but creep and watch for a minute, or two.

The way you smiled and laughed with  Haneli warmed my heart.

Driving home all my thoughts were intoxicated with y/n.

Even though I lived alone thinking about you didn’t make my house feel so big anymore.

Your warmth made it feel as if you could be here.

With me.

Gosh Y/n what are you doing to me?

——

Y/n’s Point Of View:

You walk into the bakery opening up shop, fiddling around to waste time until a costumer graced you.

You weren’t one hundred percent focused though. Chris had interrupted your thoughts more than once.

Since him returning to give you the tip, him possibly cyber stalking you, and now running into one another at the dog park.

It was almost like you couldn’t escape him.

But you weren’t complaining. For the most with all of your interactions he’d been nothing but the perfect gentleman and he was funny as well.

So far no complaints, not that it mattered.

A noise startles you breaking your train of thought.

“Kiara I had no Idea you were here.” You whisper shout holding your chest

“Uh, yeah I work every Monday.”

“Yeah right, I’m sorry just a lot on my mind right now.” You stated

“What or should I say who would that be?” Kiara implies wiggling her perfect brows.

She saw right through you ever time one of her many talents.

“We ran into each other at the dog park this morning.” You confess chest now feeling much lighter.

“What?! Kiara shouts. ‘Is he stalking you or something?”

“No he was walking dodger and said he recognized me and just started a conversation, no big deal.” You reassure.

Big deal, big fucking deal.

“Big deal my ass, your smitten like a kitten and he might like you.” Kiara suggests

“ I don’t know it wasn’t like that. I mean he asked for number but-.”

If she wasn’t excited it for you before she definitely was now. Kiara drops the broom she was carrying on the ground and her eyes go wide.

“Are you kidding me!’ Kiara trilled. “He asked for your number, like how reenact it for me. I’m you, your Chris.”

“Okay so basically, he just asked for number like a normal human being.”

“Lame! I want the juic more must have happened.” Kiara remarked.

“No it really happened that way.”

“Let me ask you this. How long has it been since you’ve got laid?”

A question you had to ponder on. It had been a while, you were celibate for about four years after your last serious relationship.

The only thing that had been down there were tampons, a few sex toys and a shower head.

“Since him.” You whisper

Kiara looked almost shocked although she was your Bestfriend you had been on a few spotty dates here and there she could have been sure you were getting some with those guys, but four years.

“Uh uh, text him right now and tell him you want to suck his white chocolate stick off right now!” She cursed.

“No!’ You shout. “Please use your lady mouth.” You demand

“I need you to use your lady mouth.” She says pretending to perform oral sex with the air.

“You’re ridiculous.” You chuckle

Just like clock work your first costumers of the afternoon walk in. you smile greeting the small family pushing the thoughts of Chris as far back as you could.

—-

Later that evening:

It’d been a rather long shift. It was a beautiful day so people were out more than usual.

You enjoyed costumer interaction and spreading your brand so that was no problem.

You were finishing the final pieces of closing up the shop.

Counting the cash profits and tips. You’re interrupted by the pinging of your phone.

You huff in frustration looming down at your phone.

Unknown number: Hi.

Y/n: Hello.Chris?

Unknown number: No not Chris. I’m sorry who is this again new phone so.

Y/n: I’m sure you’re not looking for me! Goodnight.

Unknown number: y/n, it’s Chris 😂

Y/n: Actor.. -_-

You quickly switch his name to a secretive and rather suggestive contact name.

The Captain: what are you up to?

Y/n: Closing up shop, talk when I’m home?

The Captain: Nah might be to tired.

Y/n: :(.

The Captain: kidding. Text me when you’re home, be safe.

You were shocked he actually got around to you let alone wanted you to be safe.

You felt like the flash the way you practically sped through your work to get home and text Chris. 

You were beyond excited, more excited than you’d like to admit but you couldn't shake the feeling that this was, this could be something great.

---

Getting home and settling down you took a shower taking your time, making sure to really exfoliate and moisturize your tired skin. You took your time twisting your hair, sealing in the moisture adequately.

You didn't want Chris to think you were desperate for him to like you, so you made him wait out for an hour, or two.

Finally at around eleven p.m you decided to send him a text.

Y/n: Hi :).

The Captain: Hey. Here I was thinking you forgot all about me.

Y/n: How could I do that?.

The Captain: Well maybe your boyfriends got you preoccupied ;). 

Y/n: Single. :p

Why would he assume I have a boyfriend?

---

Chris’s Point Of View:

I can't lie I was excited to learn she was available. Through our text and interactions I can tell she was a genuine person. 

After my last relationship I promised to let things come to me, yes I screwed up here and there going on dates who only wanted me for the label. 

Maybe letting y/n secretly slip into my life undetected was what I needed, what I wanted.

I want to take it slow to protect myself but something about her makes me wanna go all the way and quickly, and we’ve barley talked.

---

Y/n’s Point Of View:

Chris kept the conversation interesting, most of the questions asking about you and what your interests were. 

Knowing men you definitely knew he was figuring you out. Wanting to “get to know you more.”

You both exchanged questions back and forth.

He asked you about Disney.

You asked him about conspiracies.

You both dint want the night to end. The text were funny, serious, a little invasive. 

You felt like you knew Chris forever, when his named popped on your screen it warmed you heart.

So it melted when you felt your eyes grow heavy knowing you had work early in the morning. 

Y/n: Chris, I have to go.. I work early tomorrow.

The Captain: :( I understand sleep well beautiful.

Y/n: You as well.

The Captain: :)

And with that you put your phone to rest. Laying awake, lingering on his last words. 

Beautiful. Did he really think so?

Your eyelids falling you imagine Chris cradling you whispering those sweet words in your ear with his Boston accent.

God I think I like him.

---

Second Part! Let me know what you think below!

Are you liking their dynamic so far? Is it moving too fast or the perfect pace?

(please interact this helps me be a better story writer!)

Things will heat up soon don't you worry!

—

Tag List:

@toniilaney

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Dead-ication || Morgan & Grace

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @silveraccent & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Grace and Morgan just want to bake pie and be okay, but you can’t always get what you want.

CONTAINS: discussion of a car accident

Grace sat in her car, the buzz of the steering wheel still sending electricity through her fingertips. The sound of the engine settling into silence was barely recognizable. She reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she stared at the house. Morgan had invited her over, and while Grace had appreciated the concern and newfound… friendship, she still felt awkward imposing on somebody else’s time. Still, she had been invited, and it would be rude to decline such a thing as baking together. She finally got out of her car, the bitter cold burrowing into her bones as soon as she stepped out. Grace looked up to the house, her nerves suddenly growing. She had been absent lately, taking more time for herself-- but after Kaden had explained that Morgan helped with a lot of the pies that he passed around, she felt slightly more inclined to trust her. Grace pulled her phone out of her pocket, texting Morgan that she had arrived. There was doubt and embarrassment pooling in the pit of her stomach now. She looked down at the dead grass beneath her shoes, stubbing her toe against it.

Morgan ambled out of the studio in her puffer jacket, nudging the fresh snow on the grass with her boots as she crossed the garden to meet Grace. She didn’t know if she was playing human-in-the-cold right, but the faint prickle of snow on her hands was the closest thing she had to feeling anything, and she wouldn’t give it up even for appearances in single-digit temperatures. “Hey!” She called, waving to Grace as she came out of the side gate. She beamed, relieved to have some new company. “Come back through the garden with me, I’ve got a new workspace set up, and there’s just barely enough room for trying out something I found online: cherry and pecan pie, with a chocolate glaze. It’s either going to be the most amazing thing I’ve attempted or the worst.” She draped an arm around Grace and started ushering her toward the blue cottage studio, having just enough sense to keep from loitering in the cold.

Morgan’s voice was loud enough for Grace to be pulled from her thoughts. She looked up from the grass and let a smile pull at the corners of her lips. She wasn’t sure where she and Morgan landed in the grand scheme of things-- pies or not, Grace had cried and unfolded in front of her while she was a stranger, and even Grace knew it was hard to break that kind of bond. “Oh, okay!” She followed Morgan’s directions, leading after her closely, leaning into the woman’s touch when she draped an arm over her shoulder. “That sounds…” Grace wanted to be optimistic so instead of saying what she thought, she simply nodded, “good, if you do it the right way.” She looked towards the cottage, “that’s really cute-- but--” She looked towards the larger house, deciding not to ask questions. “How have you been?” She asked instead, ducking in through the doorway, taking off her shoes.

Morgan caught the dip in Grace’s voice. Her smile tightened as she led her across the garden and into the small building where she now devoted a few hours of each day, and sometimes more, to rebuilding a world of her own. “Okay, yes, there is a perfectly good, roomy kitchen in the house, but I am really desperate to break in the oven in here. I have a lot of pie-themed aspirations, and the sooner I get started the better, right?” She opened the door and hopped inside, holding it open for Grace as she welcomed her into the space. “I’ve been good!” She said, a little too brightly, even to her own ears. “Busy, kind of? But mostly good! It really does feel like a whole new time. How about you, Grace?”

“That’s… true.” Grace offered Morgan another smile, this time a bit more heartfelt. Despite not being able to feel anything off of the woman, she could tell there was something genuine in her, if not a bit sad. Though, she had suspected that was likely for all of White Crest’s residents. “It’s very cute,” she admitted as she looked around. The cabinets were low for either of them to reach-- more than she could say for her own apartment. It looked like something out of a story book. “Busy isn’t a bad thing,” she said. She kept busy mostly to keep her mind off of other things. “Better.” Better than the last time we met. Grace tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she ventured further towards the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if she should address the elephant in the room, that the last time they had talked, or even met, Grace had been full of tears and self-depreciation. Now, there were no tears. “Excited about um, the pie?” She smiled faintly.

“You know, I guess that’s true!” Morgan conceded, her voice a little off key. Grace was right, in general, but Morgan had been busy saying goodbye to her closest friends, botching opportunities to make new ones, pulling her sense of self back together again, and grieving the destruction her midlife angst had wrought on the town. It wasn’t a kind of busy she relished in, but making a pie was supposed to change that. “Better is good,” she said, a reminder to them both. “I was a little worried for you there, for a second.” She knelt down and fetched  the bowls and tins they would need, then picked through the small fridge. There was only space for them both with Grace on the other side of the counter and one of the bar stools used to rest the items they weren’t using. It reminded Morgan of the studio apartments she used to live in full time back in Houston and the desperate contortions she’d put herself through to get her books out of their cabinets and squeeze something that was almost a life together.

Morgan pushed the thought out of her head. “Anyway, I am actually excited. If you want, you can get going on the crust and catch me up? I wouldn’t mind hearing some good news out of this place for a change.”

Grace let her gaze remain on Morgan a beat of a second too long, still unsure of why she couldn’t feel anything. As for others, it was faint, but from Morgan, she received nothing. She folded her arms across her chest and watched as Morgan began to work at collecting their supplies. She felt awkward, not knowing what to do. “There really wasn’t a reason to be, I was just…” Devastated? Angry? Scared? “I mean, you know how it is.” Grace dropped her arms to her side, a nervous laugh escaping her. It’d be her luck that Morgan would know she was full of shit. She glanced down at the ring. Anxiety. But something yellow-- or maybe orange, began to peek through. She couldn’t be sure what it was, so she pulled her gaze back to look at the contents of Morgan’s cabinets and fridge beginning to make an appearance on her counter.

She finally took a step forward and stood just next to Morgan. “Um, yeah--” She looked down at the ingredients. She had made pie once or twice, but the crusts typically came in plastic, already made. “Sure.” She forced confidence in the word before she started incorporating the proper ingredients. Morgan wanted good news. Grace wasn’t sure if she had any-- at least, not exceptionally good news. “Work is better,” she said after a moment, glancing over at Morgan as she worked. Except for the fact that Cece was now gone and Regan was still not speaking to her. “Uh… I’m thinking of getting a rat?” She offered with a laugh, “Kaden and I watched Ratatouille, he mentioned that they have some up for adoption.”

Morgan took in Grace’s words silently. “I--think I do. Though I’m not sure what that means. I am sorry, you know. About Cece. I was there when she, um, had to go. I can tell you she really didn’t want to.” Although thats really wasn’t much in the way of comfort. To Morgan, that just made the situation that much more painful and unfair. “But I’m glad work is better.”

She managed a small laugh at the mention of Ratatouille, imagining Kaden making faces at the screen and silently critiquing the depictions of French people. “A pet rat, huh? Well, they’ll definitely have plenty of space around wherever you live. I hear some of them can be pretty friendly. But they have a short lifespan, I think. But then again, nothing on this world is truly stagnant. I’m sure you’d give one a really nice life.” She fell into blending her wet ingredients as she spoke this, eyes glazing as she watched the stand mixer do its work. It was the little things that you kept going for, she reminded herself. Especially if one of those little things was yourself.

Morgan’s mention of Cece made Grace freeze momentarily. her fingers twitched around the egg that she held in her hand. “Yeah, I--” She reached up with her free hand and pressed her fingers into her temple. “I’m sorry, but is it okay if we don’t… talk about that?” She offered Morgan an apologetic smile, “I just-- it was a lot.” It should’ve been easy to say goodbye to a co-worker, but at the morgue, Cece had been the only thing keeping Grace from falling apart. Now, it seemed like every turn she made, shivers ran down her spine and there was always anxiety in her gut.

Grace forced herself to relax and began working on the crust again. “Oh, yeah-- he was… perplexed about the whole uh, cooking thing.” She remembered Kaden’s face after his realization that the rat had been the chef all along and it brought a smile to her face. “I have a fish, but it’d be nice to have something I can sort of hangout with.” The right answer would be either a dog or a cat, but she felt her building was filled with so many of those already. Plus, a rat wouldn’t require as much attention as a dog. “I’ve been looking up these really big enclosures for them…” Grace’s lips twitched slightly into a frown at Morgan’s words. She couldn’t get a read on her, or why the conversation had turned slightly to the dark side. After a moment, she paused, “is everything okay?” She didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to get involved in something that didn’t concern her, but something told Grace she needed to ask the question.

Morgan winced at Grace’s aversion to discussing Cece. “Of course. I’m sorry.” As much as she intuited some commonalities in their pain, the way they coped with it was different, and she wasn’t much of anyone to the girl, just someone who had accidentally happened upon her during an emotional crisis. They should talk about other things. Better things. Literally-anything-but-that things. “Hanging out, yeah! Quality time is really special with an animal. I love it when the cats wander over just to watch or sit on me while I try to work around them. Moira’s getting kind of big for riding on my shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to understand that.” She added the egg to her bowl and when that was done, the cherries. Just in time for Grace to ask her what was wrong.

“Oh, yeah! I’m good. I’m sorry I’m being so--nosy, I guess. Maybe there’s something to be said about starting with small talk and pseudo-interview questions when you first meet someone. But really, there’s been a lot of changes, but most of it’s been really good!”

“No, it’s okay.” Grace offered her a reassuring smile. “It’s just… I’m trying to not really think about it.” She should and she knew it. Ignoring the pain Cece’s departure had brought wasn’t the right thing to do and she knew it, but being alone with Morgan made it impossible not to focus on her own feelings, especially because Morgan’s were absent. She fidgeted with the startings of the dough, not wanting to overwork it. “How long should we chill this?” She asked as she looked over at the brunette, her smile still intact.

“And no, it’s okay-- it’s normal to ask questions, right?” Their first meeting had been… different than any other meeting that Grace had had in White Crest. In fact, all of the people she had met had been different. At first, she was embarrassed by Morgan’s first impression of her, but there hadn’t been any point in allowing it to entirely encroach what could be a solid friendship. It had taken some time to get used to the idea, but she was there now, standing beside her, attempting to bake a pie. “Good changes,” Grace nodded along, “that’s good-- I’m glad things are good.” Grace chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Morgan continued to work the blender, allowing herself to fall into the hypnotic accomplishment of seeing raw ingredients turn into something meaningful, even beautiful after a little mundane alchemy. She switched out the attachments and started adding in the fillings. It wouldn’t take long for everything to get folded in properly. “I’ll set a timer for thirty minutes,” she murmured distractedly, tapping the numbers into her phone. With nothing much else to do, Morgan watched the batter fold. Something was wrong, off. Not with the recipe but with them. Not the strangest thing in the world, given both of their tendency toward worry and overthinking, but it was too much for Morgan to bear silently. The last thing she wanted was to keep Grace hostage in her bad company. “Okay, I’m just gonna come out and say it,” she said. “This is weird. I don’t know if it’s because things aren’t actually that fine, or if I’m being weird, or the place is making you claustrophobic, but there’s something, right? I’m not just imagining it?”

Grace stopped kneading the dough and nodded at Morgan’s instruction of 30 minutes. She grabbed the clean towel from the side and draped it over the bowl. She knew to put it in the fridge, or at least that’s what she hoped needed to be done. Would the cold butter turn chunky? No, she had worked that through, right? Distracted, Grace doesn’t quite hear Morgan’s question. Eyebrows furrowed, Grace stops in her tracks, the bowl of dough still in her hands. “Wait, what?” Could Morgan read her? Was that why Grace couldn’t get a read? If two empaths-- No, that didn’t make sense. She and her grandmother could read each other. She fiddled with the towel, her thumbs tugging it down, closer to her palms. “I don’t--” Grace took a deep breath, “it’s not you-- it’s just--” She recalled their online conversation, about how they were both something, and Grace wondered if it was time to come out and say it, to explain that no, there was nothing wrong with them, it was just confusion and anxiety on Grace’s part. After she put the dough into the fridge, she turned around and wrung her hands together, nails digging into her palms to create crescent moons. “Do you remember the conversation we had? Online? It was a while ago.” She paused, “about us being something? Both of us?”

Morgan resisted the impulse to double over with relief. “Yes! I do! Oh, stars, come here, Grace. Let’s sit, okay?” She led the girl over to the main area where there were floor pillows, a day bed, and a desk chair to choose from. Morgan chose the pillowy corner of the bed, if only because it meant scooping up Anya, who had snuck in with her usual silence, and squeezing in a moment or two of time with her. The black cat squinted at her, quietly affronted, but as Morgan settled, Anya marched along her legs and scraped the side of her face along the zombie’s hand and arm. “This seems like more of a sit down kind of talk, and before you say whatever, I want to assure you that you have my total confidence. Nothing you say will leave this room if you don’t want it to, okay?”

Though Grace couldn’t feel it, she could see the relief flood to Morgan’s face. Or, at least, that's what she thought it was. At Morgan’s insistence that she take a seat, she followed her to the seating area, opting for the desk chair. She took it out from its nook carefully, sitting down. Her hands in her lap, Grace pressed her nails into her palms and looked up as Morgan spoke. She regarded the cat lightly, watching the way it ran its head into Morgan’s arm. “Oh.” She blinked, “I mean, if it does--” She wasn’t sure if anything would happen if more people knew about it. Before White Crest, she kept it to herself mostly because she was afraid she’d be seen as a freak. In White Crest, she kept it as a secret because she was worried she’d be regarded as some kind of spy-- as if she were invasive. “Sure.” She smiled instead. She watched the black cat’s tail flick back and forth before looking back up to meet Morgan’s eyes. “It’s not really anything big.” Not like Nell, not like Regan. It’s not important, Grace wants to say. “But it has me…” She chewed the inside of her cheek, “wondering.” She admitted, feeling heat come to her cheeks. “What you are.” It sounded harsh and she winced, “I--” She might as well come out with it, “I can feel… people, their emotions.” She shifted in the chair, “but I can’t feel you.”

Morgan’s first reaction was, is that all? Wasn’t carrying a sense of other people’s feelings a good thing? Something the world needed more of? But Grace’s distress was as real as her embarrassment, so maybe Morgan didn’t understand how that all worked well enough. It probably made crowds overstimulating, at least. But then Grace finished and Morgan tensed, enough that Anya sensed it, glowered, and leapt to the floor to find something better to do.

“Oh.” Was all Morgan could think to say. It was the limits of human magic all over again. She was never allowed to forget about them for long, no matter how much she tried to build up her own limited connections to the world. “That must be...I can see how that might be distressing.” She searched for more words. Tepid silence soured the space between them. “You know it’s not you, right? The reason your power doesn’t work on me. You’re not sick or anything. It’s me.”

Grace watched as the cat skittered across the floor, its paws closing around a toy that resembled a mouse, but was blue in color. She looked back up to meet Morgan’s gaze as she began to speak. Even though she couldn’t feel her, she could see on her face that there was something there-- was it unease? Grace had been good at reading facial expressions, but she also noticed that Morgan had excelled at not giving much away. She ran her fingers through her hair, her hand coming to a stop at her ear where she began to fiddle with her earring. When Morgan finally explained that it wasn’t Grace, but whatever it was that she was, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t sure how that could be the case. “What do you mean?” Grace asked as she dropped her hand into her lap, the flower dusting her black skirt. She wiped it away idly, dropping her gaze. “Do you have some kind of protection from it?” She wondered if that was even possible, but there had been a lot to surprise her about the world she was now in.

Morgan couldn’t stop herself from snorting bitterly. “Never thought of it that way. I mean, I am immune to pretty much all kinds of human magic, including yours, I guess. But considering I used to be a witch, that doesn’t usually feel like a form of protection.” Morgan stilled and exhaled slowly. The root of that hurt was still in her, no matter how she pulled and cut at the stem in her mediations. She was starting to wonder if it would stay in her chest for the rest of her long days. “But this fact about my body, my energy, has saved me a couple of times.” Briefly, she considered simply telling grace what had happened. Just the truth, almost nine months ago on April 20th, she was standing on the sidewalk on Main Street getting ice cream with her best friend, and then she wasn’t. She was on the ground, and she bled out there and died there and on April 21st she woke up for the last time. Because her best friend was a zombie, and they didn’t want to watch another person they loved die for good. Morgan swallowed thickly, “This might be a terrible idea...” she muttered. It had certainly backfired with Dakota. “But would you please take my wrist, Grace? You know how to check for a pulse, right? You know the difference between a slow one or a faint one, right? And at the morgue, you know what a corpse with no pulse at all feels like, right?”

Used to be. Grace focused on those words. Was it possible for somebody to lose their powers? Morgan kept saying human, so did that mean…? Grace thought for a moment, attempting to understand what Morgan was trying to imply. She had a look of thought on her face, as if she were reliving something-- maybe the reasoning? Grace hadn’t realized that all of her life, she had checked to ensure that the emotions she felt from others matched their body language. Grace fiddled with the hem of her skirt, bunching the pleats together. Morgan’s question caught her off guard, and she looked up to meet the brunette’s eyes. Her gaze fell down to her wrist, outstretched. Grace felt something in the pit of her stomach, and her throat suddenly grew dry. Whatever it was Morgan was implying, Grace wasn’t sure she liked it. Still, she had to give Morgan the benefit of the doubt-- allow her to explain herself. Grace slid out of the chair, closing the distance between herself and Morgan and tentatively reached out to touch her fingers to the woman’s wrist. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and pressed her fingers down. The absence of a pulse was noticeable, and though Grace didn’t often worry about people being brought into the morgue who weren’t actually alive, she knew to look for one all the same. Fear and confusion coiled in the pit of Grace’s stomach and she snapped her hand back, holding it to the center of her chest. “You don’t…” She swallowed thickly, “you don’t have one.” She looked up to meet Morgan’s gaze, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because almost nine months ago, I was getting ice cream with a friend and found myself in a fatal accident a few seconds later. But my friend saved me, with magic of their own.” Morgan spoke softly and evenly. No alarm, and, as far as she could help it, no emotion. She didn’t want to go to pieces like she had after Dakota ran away from the museum. These things simply were; they didn’t need her to cut through them and feel that fresh darkness all over again. She unsnapped the leather cuff she wore to cover Remmy’s bite mark and showed it to Grace. “My body is, in most ways, dead. And the way I was taught it, human magic needs the current of life in order to connect with the universe. I’m outside of that now, so your magic can’t reach me. I’m held together and talking to you because of the magic of the undead. And really strong zombie antidepressants.” She gave a wet laugh, hoping to diffuse the tension, but her faith in the gesture was minimal and she did not bring her eyes up to read Grace’s expression. “I understand if you want to go. It’s a lot. Please don’t feel like you have to come up with an excuse,” she added.

Grace stood still in front of Morgan, the sound of her own heart that much louder in her ears. The lack of Morgan’s pulse was evidence enough that she was telling the truth. Why would she lie? Because Grace wouldn’t be able to tell? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the uneasiness growing in her stomach. It made her skin crawl. The way Morgan shifted made Grace jump slightly and she watched as the brunette pulled away a piece of fabric. A bite mark stared up at her, and though she could hear Morgan’s explanation, she wasn’t sure if she could make sense of it. Grace was silent for longer than she would have liked to have been. Morgan had proven to be nothing but kind to her, even on their first meeting when Grace had been a mess. She stared down at the bite, and she felt that the longer she looked at it, the more it felt unreal. Grace didn’t look up until she spoke again. “I don’t...” She took a step back. The bite was real and her inability to feel Morgan was real-- the lack of pulse, too. She ran a hand over her face and backed up against the wall, leveling her gaze with Morgan. “I’m sorry, I don’t--” She wasn’t sure she could comprehend what was happening. Accepting that Regan had been a banshee had been easy, and so had accepting Nell as a witch, but this? Morgan was saying she was undead, a lifeless individual, but she was so full of life, so how could that be? Grace swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat and she glanced towards the kitchen, the ingredients for the pie that wouldn’t be made scattered across the countertop. “I’m sorry, I just.. I think-- I think I need a moment.” Morgan didn’t deserve silence or ignorance. She deserved kindness, but Grace was afraid that she’d show more fear than anything else in this moment. “I should go, I’m-- I’m so sorry.” She headed towards the door, her heart pounding in her ears as she collected her shoes. She wanted to stay, wanted to tell Morgan that she didn’t think any differently, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Grace was afraid. For the first time, she was rightfully afraid, and why? Morgan had done nothing but express kindness to her, but even for Grace, there was only so much she could handle.

Morgan nodded mutely and kept her gaze fixed out one of the many windows at her prickly bushel of witch hazel growing out of the frost as Grace stumbled away in fear. It was said that the herb had the power to heal almost anything, even a broken heart; that you could take the branches and use them to douse for water, or the way home with the right enchantment. But Morgan had taken enough herbs apart and put them back together to know better. Some pains couldn’t be escaped and some detours needed to be traveled and endured. “It’s okay,” she said softly, trying to soothe herself even more than Grace. “You can go. I’ll finish up here.” She held herself, shivering even though she was beyond alive concepts like ‘hot’ or ‘cold.’ She kept her eyes on that bushel of witch hazel for a long time, until the timer on her phone went off and she marched herself back into the kitchenette to finish the pie. There were no such things in this world as magical cure-alls or salves for fear, or grief. But stars above, sometimes Morgan wished there were.

[memeuloves]

ImAllexx x Memeulous (NSFW)

it was an early morning and george's head was fucking banging. he opened his eyes and hissed in pain. that light was so fucking bright even a sober man couldn't look at it. he clenched the nearest pillow to him and tried to fall back asleep but failed miserably, partly due to the fact his fucking doorbell went off. he sighed as he opened his heavy eyes, once again hissing at the beams of light hitting his eyes. full of dread he moved himself off his bed and to his door. the person who was at it must've been pretty impatience becuase they had rung it a solid 7 times now and george was going to cave their fucking skull in if they clicked that button one more times

to the person outside the doors luck, they didn't becuase george was definitely going to spark them if they did. he hesitenly opened the door but didn't regret it. he was greeted by a man taller then him by two inches. he bite his bottom lip and studied the man infront of him. he wasn't going to lie he was stunning. his trim was a bit uneven but other than that he was perfect.

he was wearing a slightly oversized, black hoodie with a daisy embroidered into it. he wore light blue, skinny, ripped jeans which george thought look. absolutely amazing on him. the man stood awkwardly with his hands behind his back, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

occasionally he would bring his hand up to his mouth and start biting the skin around his nails. it was obvious to george this man was nervous and he was going to play on it, especially since he was high-key cute.

"urm hey, is there any particular reason why you've rang my door bell 7 fucking times this early in the morning?" he said, half jokingly.

the mans face instantly looked more full of fear and george sighed. he beautiful man went to talk.

"ugh hey, m- my names alex and we met last night. basically you punched a massive hole in my door and you gave me your apartment number and said you'd worry about it today. i'm so sorry if i'm interrupting anything but i can't afford-"

george cut him off with own words. he knew that this man was familiar but he has no memory of breaking down his door. he sighed and spoke.

"i'm gonna be fucking honest with ya mate, i have no memory of harming your door in any shape or form but i'm willing to pay for the repairs. how much do you want for it?" he asked, finally making eye contact with the man named alex.

alex sighed. "you see that's the problem, i kinda didn't tell the whole truth. you didn't just punch a hole in it, you took it off it's hinges." he added, slightly upset. he saw the look of confusion and shock on george's face and continued his stream of words. "maybe you should come down and see it for yourself." alex just knew that there was no way his door was getting properly fixed anytime soon.

and alex wasn't going to lie, the door wasn't exactly his only worry.

the man who he was pretty sure he was going to hate for the rest of his life was pretty cute, but he wasn't going to let that distract him. george agreed to go and have a look at the door and went to grab his coat. alex chuckled at him slightly before commenting.

"mate we're not even going outside you're walking down a flight of stairs." he smiled as george flipped him off.

"fuck off mate you're not the hungover one i can do what i like." he joked as he his black puffer jacket and made his way down stairs with the neighbour he never knew about but he wished he did becuase he was as hot as fire.

on the way down there wasn't much conversation, there was a little bit of awkward 'how're you feeling'

but other than that it was shit. but he knew not many people would want to speak to the person who supposedly took their door of the fucking hinges.

when they arrived at alex's front door, or what was left of it, george was impressed with himself to be completely honest. he was only 5’u and wasn't very strong at all but yet there lay his neighbours door. it was a rather sad looking door when george came to think of it. it was just lay there up against the wall. george shot alex an apologetic look before speaking.

"yeah mate i'm fucking sorry about that, how much do i owe ya?" he asked as he pulled out his

alex looked down, almost as if he was sad. "i called the land lord last night, he said around £1,500 minimum."

george was took aback, he knew getting things replaced was expensive but not that much. the landlord was clearly trying to pocket a few extra quid.

"jesus christ mate, you'd have to suck me off to get that." he joked, wincing a little at his own words.

he looked over at alex who's face portrayed so many emotions at the same time george couldn't be arsed to decipher them. suddenly he felt the headache roll in.

"for fucks sake." he cried. he looked over to alex who looked even more confused then before.

"y- you alright mate. do you need anything?" he questioned, the pure terror in his voice lingered in the air.

"yeah mate just a the hangover kicking in." he faked a smiled at alex. alex modded his head in understanding and went to speak.

"i get ya mate, i should have some aspirin in the cupboard, you can come in if you like. not that there's a door from stopping you" he joked. he moved his arm to point into his flat to signal the man who had took his door of the hinges into his home.

george smiled and accept his offer.

alex had told him to sit down on the sofa whilst he got some water and painkillers; george nodded greatfully. alex arrived with two aspirin in one hand and a glass of water in the other. alex handed George the aspirin and then the water. he watched him take the pills before speaking.

he sat down on the other peice of furniture he had in his living room. his living room was rather bland. it had cream walls a and a cream soda which alex had been rather brave to choose that colour as he was very fucking clumsy and spilt every ever on anything in sight. surprisingly there wasn't any stains of spilt pasta sauce on it just yet.

"so ugh mate, i don't even know your name." he smiled, trying to lighten the mood before getting to his method of payment.

george chuckled a little before speaking. "i'm george." he held his hand out waiting for alex to return his handshake. alex mimicked george’s movements before returning to what he was going to say before hand.

"so ugh, george." he trembled "about what you said earlier, about; the method of payment dare i say." he grinned a little. he looked over at george's smug little face. he knew exactly what he was going to say and alex had no complaints.

"d- do i really need to, ya know, suck you off to get my door fixed?" he smirked and looked down at the floor, a light shade of pink painting his cheeks.

the entire vibe of the room shifted in a instant. george reply quickly.

"no! no of course not! i was only joking. i can hand u the £1,500 and i'll be one my way." he smiled.

he would admit that yes, he was horny and he would like this extremely attractive man who stood infront of him to suck him off but he could tell he didn't have much money to live off and making him do anything like that was basically prostitution. now that he thought about it maybe he could give him an extra £700 maybe to help him, or as i 'i'm sorry i took your fucking door of the hinges' thing.  

alex looked up at george and smirked slightly, he knew exactly what to do from here.

"awe but are you sure, i was kinda looking forward to sucking you off. you know since you're incredibly attractive and all i thought it would've been fun." he put on his best puppy dog eyes and looked back up at george who alex who 100% certain was getting a hard on right now.

george knew he shouldn't do this, but yet if felt so right. like he should just go with it. but maybe that was just lust, or hornyness. probaly the latter.

"f-fuck alex i don't know how to respond. like if you well and truly want to suck me off go for it becuase i have a slight problem here." he joked. he really hoped alex would choose to suck his cock becuase otherwise he A) made himself look like a bellend and B) embarrassed himself.

alex giggled a little and sat next to george, he placed a hand in george's thigh and made small circles with his fingers on the inside of his legs. he could see george getting more horny by the minute and he was enjoying watch it a lot.

"so what do you say lover boy, is it okay for me to suck that cock of yours?" he asked, moving his hands up slightly to george's zipper.

george couldn't believe what was happening, the man who had knocked on his door all of half an hour ago becuase when he was shitfaced he took his door of the hinges was now about to suck him off and he wasn't to sure if it would stop there. he took a sharp breath in as alex continued to make circles on his thighs before speaking.

"y- yes you do. please just hurry." he spat out, trying not to sound desperate but he knew really he sounded like a little whore.

alex smirked victoriously and slowly unzipped georges jeans, he placed his other hand around just the waistband of just the jeans and rather skilfully  pulled them off georges body without any trouble. he decided to tease george a little bit, see how far he can make him go before he begs for it.

he placed his hand over georges now rather large bulge and started palming him through his boxes slowly. georges head rocked back in pleasure but he could tell it wasn't enough. he adjusted he grip a little so he could palm him slightly faster. georges face told it all really and alex found it rather amusing. with one hand still resting on georges crotch he wrapped his free hands fingers through the waistband of his calvin klien boxers and let his hand roam free. alex handing yet removed georges boxed so he had to guess by touch but he was rather took back by the good condition his area was in. he was even trimmed alex chuckled to himself. he hoped george didn't hear him but he knew he was to caught up in his own world to care or even hear.

alex fully removed george's boxers and grabbed his length as he started making a pumping motion with his hand. george couldn't even say anything he was so caught up in it, all that could escape his mouth were a few little wimpers and the occasional louder moan. alex took that as a sign that george was enjoying the current situation and gave himself a mental pat on the back. he leant over slightly to angel himself in such way he could take george's length in his mouth. once he found it he looked up at george who was practically begging for it at this point.

"a-alex please touch me, i don't care weather it's your hands or your mouth i-  just really need you right now" he moaned.

alex found this highly entertaining.

he took george's cock in his mouth and started slow. he swished his tongue around his cock making george moan even more. he sped up, adjusting his head to a rhythm and moving his tounge faster. by now george was a moaning mess and he could feel it. but the other thing he could feel was his own jeans getting tighter.

he got george close to finishing before stopping and looking up at him. george clearly wasn't happy but he wasn't going to ask questions.

alex stood up before talking.

"george do you want to fuck? it's fine if not,

don't feel pressured” he smiled at george who he was pretty sure still had his eyes closed anyways. he waited for his reply nervously, wondering if he over-stepped a boundary.

"y- yes alex. please" he whined, practically begging.

alex made his way over to his cupboard full of wonder and fun things. he pulled out a small, pink viabrator and some lube. he made he was back over to where george was sat.

"do you want me to loosen you up or do you just want to go straight in?" he asked, refuring to the dildo in his hands.

"n- no alex, just get inside me." he whined.

alex pulled down his own jeans and boxers before applying the lube to his own cock and a small amount into george.

"you ready?" he asked george who was already in position

"what do you fucking think of course i'm ready" he whined.

alex giggled before pushing himself of george. instantly he felt relieved, he didn't know he was so horny but he wasn't complaining. george was letting out rather audible moans and occasionally screaming alex's name. he grabbed onto george's hips tighter and thrusted harder into him. he could tell george was having the time of his life and so was alex.

he wasn't gonna lie, this was one of the best fucks he'd had.

it wasn't much longer until george was cumming and it definitely wasn't much longer after that until alex came. he pulled out of george and let out one last moan before grabbing a random t-shirt which was on the floor to clean up the current messes on to couch and -luckily- wooden floor.

you know how alex said eairler that there wasn't any stains on the couch, well there definitely was now and he knew that wasn't going to be a fun story to explain to eveyone.

he looked over at george who had only just came down from his high and smiled.

"how was it?" he asked, smirking a little

george let our a breath before replying. "f- fucking amazing." he said as alex just giggled.

"i hope we can do that more often, you know since you live directly under me." george smiled.

alex thought about that for a minute. yeah he would like to keep fucking his neighbour senseless as much as he could. especially if he looked like that.

"yeah, you know i think we might be doing that more often"

[bowieandqueen11]

Ageing Queens/ Old!Roger Taylor Borhap Set Fluff

Thank you @barnesbabes yet again for another wonderful idea!

‘Ben, I’m sure she’s already freaked out enough, will you stop pretending that you actually are Roger.’

‘Shut it Gwil. I’m not pretending to be Roger. I am Roger. A much sexier, more handsome past version of Roger.’

‘Hey, Rog, can you hear this idiot!?’

‘Shut it, Joe.’ Ben elbows Joe slightly in the ribs, a light grin beaming on his face as Joe gasps, sticking his pointer finger out and bowing slightly before jumping back up and commencing with the imaginary sword fight, much to Ben’s delight. Gwilym’s eyes widen as they meet yours, his done attitude evident on his face as he rolls his eyes slightly, Rami coming up smirking to stop and watch the boys by Gwil’s shoulder, a cup of coffee smoking in his hand to help him through the late night shoot. It had been a long night on the fake BBC studio, and as Gwilym’s hands come to rest once again on the guitar strapped against his neck, his jacket glowing under the hot lights, you can tell by his slight grimacing twitches that he just wants to go home and sleep. 

Ben knocks into him, dancing around Gwilym’s feet, his denim shirt and green tie flying through the air like leaves before an autumn’s tempest. You love Gwil deeply, and you know that he loves you and all the boys back, but as you see his eye begin to twitch as Ben stands yet again on his foot and Joe’s wig smacks against his chin as they run around him like a dog chasing their tail, his eyeliner beginning to smudge slightly in the heat, you can’t help but laugh at the storm that swirls in his sparkling blue eyes as Rami just stands there laughing, enjoying the chaotic energy in the room before the shoot ends for the day.

‘Right you two, how about you leave poor Brian alone,’ Brian turning around from behind the camera to raise his eyebrow before realisation sets in and he turns around smiling, shaking his head lightly, ‘and go hammer some cymbals or something.’

Ben winks at you as him and Joe step over to the drum kit, the four of you pretending you don’t notice the little mock fight that breaks out as Joe lays down his bass guitar on the studio floor, his steel jacket twisting slightly as he tries to grab the drumsticks out of Ben’s hands, ignoring his loud groans and ‘oi, you’re messing up my hair mate!’ as a childish grin tugs on his lips, his feet tripping over the bass drum and landing both of them on their bottoms. Gwilym shakes his head at you, accompanying Rami to help the two of them up. You turn to Roger, only to be interrupted by two loud bangs and an annoyed ‘ow’ as you see a laughing Rami and confused Gwilym splayed on the floor over Joe and Ben’s legs.

‘I bet you’re glad you left the house today, love.’ Roger leans down to press a sloppy kiss against your forehead as your arms wrap around the thick puffer jacket that cloaks his hips, nuzzling into his soft chest as a hoarse chuckle bubbles from his thin lips.

‘Honestly, it was worth it just to see the really, really annoyed look on your face still when Ben played those plastic cymbals.’

‘They were shit’, Roger snorts, turning his eyes to gaze down at you and smile sweetly, ‘but I remember someone here made me feel a lot better that night.’

You thwack his chest, huffing laughter filled the air with your amusement, making Brian swivel around, an even more confused and dazed look on his face as Roger just chuckles, reaching up to familiarly entangle his fingertips within your fuzzy hair, running it in between his tired, wrinkling hands, the feeling as warm and blissful as the first time he did it nearly forty years ago.

‘You laugh y/n, but you still have that effect on me.’ He leans down to whisper against the tip of your ear, his breath warm and tingly and still managing to make goosebumps break out on every inch of your skin as his hands sneak round to snake against the dip of your spine, his thumbs tenderly rubbing small circles.

‘Not bad for two ageing queens, huh?’

[combust-catalyst]

Two Sides of a Coin

Main Idea: Niwaki ( OC ) and class 1-A are doing hero combat class. And Niwaki hasn’t had the best of days at the moment, but since he has had a chance to relax, that anger or explosion isn’t going to end well.

Notes: I’ve been having a rough day at work within the few days to maybe a week and stress is going to literally make me explode. This kind of long.;;; I apologize for any grammar like mistakes and such. This is a Bakugou x OC story, but there isn’t a lot of per say interactions between them a lot as most is very non agreeable? Thus, I tried tagging them the best I could for what I believe is appropriate and not clutter other tags it’s not a part of.

Everyone has ups. Everyone has downs. Some people have good days. Some people have bad days. It was only a matter of how you dealt with those days. Relaxation was a way to ease the pain. Hobbies and activities one loved could release tensions. A good massage would help with tense muscles. A favorite beverage put you in a sense of bliss. Music or sounds could send away the painful migraine. Finally, a good chat with a good friend was a good way to make everything go way.

However, Niwaki had none of those things. At least, for the moment, Niwaki didn’t have any solutions. His days had been disgusting. As disgusting as being pushed by a large crowd on the way to school. It was the early mornings, so it was naturally busy. Crowded trains with business people clamping up against him with no mind for personal space. Clamping foot steps stomping on his feet. Yeah, this wasn’t a good start to his day. 

To find that his homework had been left at home that was due the very current day. Although, one could say it was yesterday that he had bad nightmares that made sleeping almost nonexistent. His abrupt awaking to his own yelling and nervous sweating made sleeping in the dark of night impossible as he would resort to  hiding under his sheets. Matters seem to only grown more when annoying voices in his head got to him. Or were they voices? Wait, where did the scratching noises come from? That was from a tree, right? 

A car driving pass a large puddle that splashed onto Niwaki’s pants. At least, it only got his shoes and lower parts of his pants up to his knees wet. Either way, he was on his way to school. He didn’t have even time to go back home and change again as that would require another crowd travel back on the train. He would have to go to class and just home he could hope that the air today and temperature was fair enough to make it bearable. 

To include insult to more problems, a random dog chased him on the way to school. It was uncertain to the boy as to where the dog came from, but he was sure it wasn’t home trained as the animal was not wearing a collar. Niwaki had not even encountered this dog nor agitated the canine in any way nor shape nor form. This was only their first encounter with each other for fucks sake! As why the dog had been so enamored with wanting to rip Niwaki’s jacket, the boy didn’t even know.

And it didn’t stop there. Even school was draining him dry. He had to explain to Present Mic for the missing assignment which didn’t end well. You know how one loves music? Well, Niwaki has his favorites, but let’s just say Present Mic’s voice was on a very low tier list. Low volume or quietness was not going part of that teacher’s characteristic. . . at all. 

“Seichikara,” Present Mic stopped.

“Yes,” Niwaki’s voice responded a bit ghoul and almost dead-like.

“You don’t seem to be lookin’ too hot, my dude.” Present Mic remarked as he took notice of Niwaki’s already badly messed up shoes and lower pants. “I’m not too angry over the missing assignment. Things happen, ya dig?”

“I’m fine.” Niwaki calmed as he raised his hands to prevent Present Mic’s further reassurance. “I’m completely fine, teach, okay? It’s just a rough day.” He looked away his expression clearly not equal to his own works, but his tone and pretending attitude seem to get through his teacher.

“If ya saying it’s all good, I’ll follow, but I still my suspicion.” he complied almost somewhat a bit against the sudden shrug off.

“Thank you,” Niwaki smiled as he bowed his head respectfully. 

All seemed to be well for Niwaki. Exiting the teacher’s lounge, Niwaki rubbed his forehead. It was subtle, but there felt to be two lump from his head. Maybe it was from the migraines. They tended to annoy him when he was in a bad mood such as today.

“Maybe I should just---,” he toppled a bit backwards against the wall. “Fuck! Ow.”

That was going to make his migraines worse for sure. As his eyes scanned for the source of the impact. They had locked eyes with a pair of two red eyes. One seemed a bit less harsh and almost apologetic while the other seems to have more of a hostile anger at him like he had ruined their day despite his own. 

‘I don’t have time for this!’ Niwaki hissed to himself. ‘I’ll just try to dispute this peacefully. Besides, no point get angry at someone who is already angry.’ 

At least, he was the only one thinking this.

“Watch where the fuck your going, you damn extra!” the voice barked.

Niwaki scratch that idea immediately out the window.

“Excuse you,” he barked back. “Say that to me again you puny spike puffer fish!”

The more hostile red eyes that he had locked into contact earlier had seem to take it as a challenge and immediately seem to inch closer to Niwaki. His height already somewhat taller than Niwaki’s. His teeth more shine and eyes that seem to want to pop out of his sockets. He continued, “Fucking say that shit again! ”

“Bakugou,” the one with much softer eyes and spiky red hair spoke up, “come on, dude! Knock it off!” His hand blocking the other one away from Niwako. His own sharp teeth smiling as his expression a bit more goofy was enough to keep Niwaki in place. “Listen, don’t my friend here, hehe. He’s been a bit rowdy. Things are comings up and he’s been on edge.” He extended his hand to Niwaki, “Names Eijirou! Kirishima Eijirou! Please to meet!” 

Niwaki leaned back a bit hesitant from the sudden change in mood. He wasn’t sure if he should be saying hello or glare at him. With whoever was behind him, Niwaki felt as if two auras was surrounding him: one that seem a bit too bright and one that seem too heavy. 

The soft eyed boy, Kirishima took notice of the situation. With a toothy grin once more, but with extra teeth, his other than pointed with his thumb back to the other one with much more hostility in his eyes that before staring at Niwaki, “And this is Bakugou! Katsuki Bakugou!”

Niwaki decided to at least comply with Kirishima’s introduction with his own accepting his extended handshake, “Seichikara. Niwaki Seichik---.”

“That damn extra doesn’t deserve to fucking know my damn name!” the boy, Bakugou, interjected. 

And with that, he made a swift jerk. His elbow bumping into Niwaki’s as he stomped off. His hand clamped into his pants that seem to be even more disgusting in Niwaki’s eyes. Someone like that goes to this school?! Kirishima was at least kind enough to give another apology for his friend before racing off to catch up with the puffer fish.

“See you in class later!” he waved. “We got combat practice today!”

The walk back to class had not been light enough to sooth the raging pain in Niwaki’s head. And bumps on his forehead felt a bit bigger than before. Maybe some ice packs might help or should he go see Recovery Girl.

‘My head hurts,’ Niwaki rubbed his face as he stepped into class. 

And the sight was rather over whelming to say it lightly. Normally a class held a number of possibly twenty students each, right? So why in the word was there over that number of students in the classroom now? Niwaki pinched his nose at how rowdy the conversation was. Was this a competition to see who could be the loudest?  If so, this would rival that noisy Bakugou guy from earlier; he seem to only knowing swearing at people for a first impression. His eyes scanned the room as he was able to tell that there was quite some students he had not encountered--at least not at a slight closer distance. 

“Why is there so many people here?” Niwaki groaned.

And just as he had pondered to leave the room, a door flew open. And what followed seemed to be none other than the R18 Hero, Miss Midnight. Niwaki’s face was at pure concern at this point. Although, he couldn’t deny a slight disgust at how close she was--as if blocking him from the only freedom he could see. 

“I hope you haven’t forgotten what today is.” she folded her arms as a smirk graced her lips. 

“A holiday? Special occassion?” Niwaki guessed. 

“Your combat training today.” she cheered. 

“Oh,” he deadpanned before burying his face in his hands. ‘Shit!’

Niwaki recalled Kirishima mention something about a combat hero class today. Was it really today though? Perhaps all those bad things earlier was a sign to stay home? Now Niwaki was feeling a bit disappointed at himself. It didn’t take long for him to wander before a hand landed on his right shoulder. His magenta eyes coming into contact with a familiar soft pair of red ones. 

“Hey again,” Kirishima grinned, “this is like our second meeting too! Haha!”

A pair of hostile red eyes returned to join the spiky red-hair.

“Not fucking you again,” Niwaki growled. “Can YOU not be here when I”M here?”

“I didn’t even say a damn thing to you!” Bakugou barked.

“Guys,” Kirishima stepped in as the rest of the class started to die down. “Come on.”

“You h---.” he started to bite back again until a gust of blew from behind him. 

His white hair flowing along the wind and tangling up his style. There was even a slight clumped together strand of hair that curled straight up like a swirl. Bakugou was loud yes and would grab quite the attention because of it. Yet, Niwaki had seem have a slight weird affect. As if the air was suffocating for a few of the students, the atmosphere felt too hot, but at the same time curiosity was a natural thing. Glancing behind him, where Miss Midnight had previously stood, but seemed to be with now two other teachers. Dressed in entirely all black that matched even his hair with only his scarf and belt standing out, the hero whose quirk disabled others, Eraserhead, otherwise known as Aizawa. And finally the quirk user that might as well be a mystery of his own nature, All Might.

All Might saluted in his rather same old masculine form, “I see everyone is full of energy!”

“I know, right?” Midnight agreed with glee.

“They may as well save it for today’s training instead of picking fights with each other.” Aizawa deadpanned not even the slightest interest shown for what today’s activity was going to be. He tilted his head at the students who eyes all trained on the teachers in front of the doorway. His hands pulling out a remote, “Today’s training will be working on your skills and such.” As he pressed a button in the direction of the wall, the wall began to press into the glass revealing suite cases each with different numbers. “Get dress and head out back for further instructions. We’ll be informing you more later on.”

And with that, Aizawa had left. Midnight following behind as she herself claiming it was a surprise for a few students. All Might had given a small encouraging speech before following as well. Most of the students were quiet while some had continued their chit-chat from earlier while carrying their suitcases to their respective dressing rooms. Niwaki just slip pass the two boys as he proceeded to grab his own suitcase. 

Although, he could never exactly escape one of them though.

“Hey, uh, Seichikara?” Kirishima called. 

Niwaki glanced to see them again except this time Bakugou was clearly looking away from him. Kirishima’s nervous expression as he rubbed the back of his head.

“I just want to say---,” he stopped as his eyes was looking up at Niwaki’s forhead. “Dude, is something wrong with your head?”

“What about my head?” Niwaki asked. “There is nothing there.”

“Look again, shit-head.” Bakugou intervened.

“Do you ever say anything that doesn’t come with an insult.” Niwaki growled. 

“Not my fault you fucking have a low attention span!” Bakugou pointed out.

“Dude,” Kirishima interrupted. “There is like two horns coming from the top of your head. Is that normal?”

The dark-skinned boy took a second to let those words seep in his ears. They were two lumps from maybe something that happen some time ago he had concluded. And they weren’t even that big like just bumps from a distance. Lifting up to touch his forehead, the curvature of the lumps was evident. A slight peak or edge was felt from the tips of his fingers that followed the curve. His eyes widen in horror. Was he getting sick? His mind rambled for answers, but only responded with a another throbbing headache that felt like a needle had been jabbed in his skull. 

“Ow,” Niwaki flinched as if static had got him.

“You don’t look so good.” Kirishima said eyes soften and voice laced with concern and worry. “I should go get the teachers.”

“No,” Niwaki grasp the spiky red-heads sleeve. His eyes widen as they came into contact with Kirishima’s. “I’m fine! Really! It’s just a bad headache symptoms that my quirk does sometimes! Yeah! That’s it! I’ll be fine! It’s nothing to worry over! Some fresh air will do the trick!”

Kirishima squinted his eyes. His eyes appearing to struggle at trying to keep eye contact with Niwaki who might as well look to be helpless pup begging it’s owner for attention. It was then Niwaki’s eyes had noticed the puffer fish, Bakugou, walking off. It didn’t matter to him in the least what the ash-blond did. Niwaki was not going to have this day go any more crazy that is already was. He’d just needed to get through this class today and everyone should be sooth sailing. Besides, hero combat training was one of his favorite classes for many reasons, but there was something more special about it for him at least.

“Seichikara,” Kirishima pulled Niwaki away from his thoughts, “you should really go tell the teachers.”

“I’ll be fine.” Niwaki smiled as a way to reassure Kirishima before sneaking his way out of the topic, “Say, do you have any idea what’s going on with today’s hero class?”

Niwaki didn’t mean to do it, but if it went on forever, Niwaki was going to be stuck here. And besides, peoples quirk have weird reactions to their owners internal problems. You could get a cold and your body temperature could drop or you sneeze ice icicles. His quirk was just reacting to his body he guessed. 

The travel to the boys dressing room was a pretty nice and chill. Of course, a few other students that were headed there two was a bit more rowdy than most. Kirishima had no idea from what Niwaki was inferring from that the classes was a bit more of a secret. This meant no one knew what to expect. Yet, the boys enthusiasm was something Niwaki found quite nice; that and his optimism. When you two went inside to finally change, Kirishima brought up an interesting question or it might be called expected.

“Oh,” he started to chuckle, “this seems really intrusive to ask since we just met today even though more than an hour ago. But mind if I ask what’s your quirk?”

“If I told you,” Niwaki laughed, “you’d use it against me. Besides, we don’t know what the teachers have in store for us all to do.”

“Agh,” Kirishima groan, “you’re right. Darn!”

As Niwaki proceeded to dress in his hero costume or well, uniform? His uniform was a bit easy for movement, but enough that he didn’t feel like a completely copy of other ones. However, his most precious item was his gloves. It was maybe a personal taste or how it had many meanings. Yet, for Niwaki, his gloves might as well be his most important part of his identity.

The meet up with teachers was calm. With all students dressed up in their hero costumes, Niwaki couldn’t help, but look around. Some costumes were easy to tell the owners quirk and others took a bit more subtly. One couldn’t help, but find some others amazing in appearances and gave off intense or cute aura. Even some where quite plain or disturbing.

Midnight shifted her hips which her hands rest, “Heroes must be able to improvise and work along with others. This includes making the best use of each others quirks and special skills that go beyond just the basics. Cooperation and teamwork are crucial in any situation.”

“Putting your complete trust in your teammate!” All Might laughed. “A hero can be not just be a single person in the light, but duo--or even a group!”

“Which is why,” Aizawa stepped up in between the two one foot ahead of them in front of the students. “You’ll be working in pairs of two in today’s hero training.”

Excitement filled the air as some felt a bit enjoyment. Niwaki was not one of them. If working with another person while having a headache could count as a good, Niwaki would be showing enthusiam. Instead he smacked his head into his palms internally screetching. 

‘This can not get any worse!’ Niwaki screamed. 

“Working as pair, one of you will be wearing these,” Midnight announced as she held up a ribbon like necklace. “This is in a way treasure in the heroes possession that the villains will be going after. There is a tracking devise to allow us to keep track of every piece. Villain will not be given one as their objective to obtains the very ribbon one of the two of you possess. Of course, this will not be a battle royal to avoid any dangerous destruction.” Her eyes glanced at Aizawa and All Might who seem to be avoid her glance. 

“Of course,” All Might coughed. “We will be observing closely from near the area and in a security room to allow other students to watch and learn from their classmates.”

“I’ll be announcing who the pairs are.” Aizawa put his hands in his pockets; his head tilting a bit. “During these decision it was between use three to pair you with particular partners due to either quirks, personality, or behavior.”

As Aizawa proceeded to name the students pair, Niwaki bit his lip. His fingers toyed with his hair. Every pain he felt began to weigh him more and more. He massaged his temples from the tips of his fingers. His eyes closing to trying take in the cool air that graced upon his skin.

“And lastly, Seichikara,” Aizawa announced, “you will be paired with Bakugou.”

Like a bunch of glasses falling apart, the world or soothing ease Niwaki had put himself in had gone down the drain. His eyes widen in horror. He did not need to deal with the puffer fish! And certainly not on this course as his partner! And it seemed that Niwaki was not the only one as Bakugou’s own eyes locked with his matching the shocked expression.

Throughout the rest of the day, the training had gone pretty nice. Each students prevailed while some barely went through. Yet, there was also a tiny portion that would fail or get carried away in the moment. Niwaki found it to be a good source to watch with excitement. Yes, the whole partner thing had gone on pretty terrible, but Niwaki wasn’t going to let Bakugou make his headaches kill him. 

“You might want to get ready.” Midnight smiled. “You and Bakugou’s turn is coming up.’

“Right,” Niwaki’s face clearly struggling to smile as he glanced at his surrounding to find the puffer fish nowhere in sight.

Approaching the area which was a city construction that seemed almost too familiar, Niwaki walked at the entrance with his white necklace around his neck. Bakugou’s back being the only thing Niwaki could see. Expanding a sigh, Niwaki had to take this seriously. The only problem was how do you talk to someone who gives off an aura of “don’t talk to me”.

“So depending on who we’re up against,” Niwaki initiated the talk, “we need to be cautious in case its some whose quirks we don’t know. Got anything to say to that?”

“Just stay put and out of my way,” Bakugou deadpanned his eyes entirely focused ahead of him.

“This is a team, more so duo,” Niwaki warned. “We do this as a pair not as a one man army!”

Before the talk or argument get more higher, Aizawa interrupted.

“Team Bakugou and Niwaki will be playing against Team Kirishima and Sero.”

Niwaki blinked, “I was worried for something else.” He glanced at Bakugou, “You’re friends with Kirishima, right? So you got to know at least his quirk.”

Instead of answering his question, Bakugou proceeded inside the area. Niwaki racing right behind. Was this really the time to not talk? This was important.

“Bakugou,” Niwaki barked as his glove grabbed onto his shoulder roughly turning him around, “I’m not going to just let your recklessness get us in trouble right now! I’m trying to work with you! It would be APPRECIATIVE if y----.”

Before Niwaki could finish, Bakugou was close to elbowing Niwaki in the side. Luckily, Niwaki was observant as his free hand gripped Bakugou’s elbow. His eyes came into contact with the  same hostile and fierce red ones since the just more than an hour ago they met. Was this idiot truly going to do this now? Niwaki was internally grateful to be able to react quickly enough to prevent his anger to lash out at them so violently free. Besides, Niwaki wasn’t a pushover. 

‘I’ll have to thank Kirishima for this.’ he reminded himself.

“And I said don’t get in my way,” Bakugou barked. “Is all you do is ask god damn stupid questions?”

“When I’m trying to talk to a puffer fish,” Niwaki responded, “who by the way, looks angry almost every fucking second then yes I do!”

The air was thick. Perhaps from the humidity in the air or the wind that was blowing at them, but Niwaki’s stance stayed the same against Bakugou. His hands gripping Bakugou’s elbow that seemed to be fighting against the hold. Niwaki’s magenta eyes glowing bright as his teeth clench. This was already difficult as it was! Niwaki had enough problems and troubles that came along his way. His days had been disgusting enough! And now having to work with an uncooperative teammate was just as bad and fueling the fire.

“I am asking you one last time,” Niwaki’s voice deepened almost like a beastly growl, “will you----.”

It was unfortunate the sentence couldn’t be finished as Niwaki felt a strong grip wrapped around his shoulders that restricted his arms. He stared down as he was exposed to white like tape. His eyes checked with Bakugou as his own attention was no longer focused on the brown-skinned boy, but rather behind him. 

“Damn it,” he growled.

Niwaki’s eyes glanced back following the source of the white tape. At the end, a light skinned and dark haired boy about taller than Niwaki whose elbow was rather larger than the average human had a look of a grin on his face. Kirishima had stood right next the boy; a less cocky but confident smile on his face.

“Yo,” Kirishima saluted, “no hard feelings, right?”

“This is too easy!” he laughed as he began to reel Niwaki in.

Niwaki’s glared behind him. This was already stressful. His teammate wasn’t even cooperative! Now, Niwaki was stuck in some fucking tape! His head was pounding. The pain of needles felt like a pain of a sledge hammer hitting at his cranium over and over again. His teeth screeching as they lost their form. His eyes kept the same glow. The nubs on his head felt less small and short, but rather longer and stretching as if growing in size. 

“Fuck you,” Niwaki yelled as he reckless fought to break free of the black-haired boy’s restraints. “And fuck this fucking tape!”

Everyone around remained silent as Niwaki seem to behave entirely different as he even gripped at the tape to rip it off. Bakugou, who appeared ready to suddenly fight was silent as Niwaki’s sudden emotion was more hostile than he had seen previously. Despite all of this, Niwaki was behaving like some wild animal or insane badger.

“Eh, uh, Sero,” Kirishima blinked, “are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Another Bakugou?” the black-haired boy, Sero, asked.

“No,” Kirishima denied. “Seichikara looks. . . different?”

“Wh---.” Sero lifted and eye brow. 

Not giving Sero a chance to continue his talk with Kirishima, Niwaki clawed his hands into the ground for support as he began to pull back away from Sero. This resulted in Sero stumbling forward almost into the ground. 

Niwaki grinned, “Not so tough with you being the one pulled in huh?” Niwaki shifted his weight again causing Sero to follow along almost helplessly. 

Leaning up, Niwaki’s voice groaned as he bit his lip. His eyebrows furrowing in anger, but concentration. It was enough as he was able to get himself onto one knee. He had enough being through shit and he wasn’t going to allow others knock him down more than the day had succeeded ahead of them. His eyes glanced up a pair of red ones, ones Niwaki immediately recognized and felt his anger get higher. The same eyes that had nothing, but hostility to him had now turned to caution. 

“You,” Niwaki hissed as he began approach Bakugou.

Each step was followed a low growl. Niwaki’s entire appearance that had been nothing had grown into some beast. His eyes had been clouded black with the only magenta glow that stared down the explosive boy. Marking from his head down to pass his neck, almost unrecognized. And the thumping nubs on his forehead had extended upwards--almost horn-like. Bakugou only keeping his stance against Niwaki as small sparks began to fly off his palms.

Niwaki’s step faultered as he was yanked back once more, this time it was Kirishima was assisting Sero who was having more trouble than before from the pain of his arms. Kirishima’s skin almost rock solid as he appearance to stomp his foot in the ground to get solid grounding and not budge, “Seichikara, snap out of it!”

“What are you talking about,” Niwaki grinned as he gripped tighter on the tape and with one more pulled had yanked the two off the ground. His body shifted as he tossed the two into a nearby building. “I’m perfectly fine!” His eyes jerked to the side in search of Bakugou. The white-like tape no longer wrapped around him, but rather loose on the ground. A grin on his faced never leaving, “Now--!”

Boom!

From a large explosion that collided with Niwaki directly in the face, the dark skinned boy was sent back quite a distance. A large rumble had fallen in front of him as a few pebbles of concrete had seem to fall apart from the structure of the ground. A groan escaped his lips as the contact had been quite a dizzy one. Yet the point blank blast was a bit more obnoxious as he was pretty sure he received quite a few bruises. 

“Son of a bitch,” Niwaki yelled as he began to stand up again. 

His eyes stared directly at the source in front as Bakugou had his palm outward aiming for Niwaki. 

“Tch,” Bakugou clicked his tongue.

“I’m gonna---.” Niwaki yelled as he stomped his foot forward before sprinting directly at Bakugou.

“That is quite enough!” a voice called.

“Huh,” Niwaki hissed before his eyes came into contact with a pink like mist and a smell that seemed too soothing. His eyes blinked a bit trying to fight his, but he fell to his knees. His face colliding with the ground. “God damn it,” was his last words before he collapsed.

Once Niwaki opened his eyes, he stared up at a ceiling. Was he home? That could be possible? Was he at the hospital? No, lights there were much brighter and room develop noise from outside to which there was none. He leaned up. He gripped his head almost as if his brain lost its still state and bumped into his skull from the insides. To call it a headache than--no! Comparing it to over grown headache was a laugh. This pain strung him like his brain was ping ball and his skull was the table. Not a pretty sight at all to imagine.

“Oooowwww,” he groaned. “Myyyy heeaad huurts.”

“Well,” an elderly voice lectured, “that what you get when you neglect a headache! Especially with what it caused!”

Niwaki looked to his side greeted by an elderly woman whom he immediately recognized as Recovery Girl. Shit, he was in the school infirmary. Well, it was better than a hospital, so he couldn’t argue against that. Yet, his mind wandered to the class he should be in before finding where he was now. What happen to everyone? Where was the teachers? His mind went back to what happened earlier. His hands covered his face with shame. What about Kirishima? He hoped he didn’t injure him or that Sero guy too badly. Considering his anger and burst of rage, they might as well be mad at him.

“He hates me.” Niwaki confessed as his voice dropped.

“What?” another voice called from the entrance. “What are you talking about? Hate who?”

“Huh,” Niwaki blinked.

At the doorway, the three teachers stood behind as the three students Niwaki recognized from the fight earlier. The guy Niwaki recalled earlier to be Sero, who was on the left side of Kirishima, had a few bandages of his own and possibly a brace for one of his elbows. Niwaki sweatdropped as he knew exactly why that was the case. Bakugou on the other side of Kirishima preferring to not even still make eye contact. He looked perfectly find as usual, but that reason was because Niwaki was restrained earlier and didn’t get to punch him at all. As for Kirishima, he was in a few bandages, but there wasn’t a lot of them as his expression was full confusion.

“I mean,” Niwaki started, “look at you two! Those were my fault!”

“They were.” Aizawa interrupted. “That’s a reason I had Midnight around just in case things got out of hand.” He scratched his head. “Present Mic had informed me earlier this morning about your earlier condition.”

“And you still let him continue in class,” Recovery Girl summarized, “knowing full well he may just burst?”

“When you put it like that,” All Might scratched his own head clearly not able to argue at the truthful fact. 

Niwaki interrupted, “I was the one that didn’t confess though.” He looked down at his hands, “I was having a rough day and just thought it would pass, but my headache just kept growing and then I got irritated.” 

Recovery Girl sighed, “Bottling in emotions are damaging to your mental and physical health! It is even worse for those around you who are unfairly targeted due to your emotional outburst!” She turned to the teachers who seemed a bit terrified. “And as teachers you should be more careful for letting it almost get too far!”

All Might apologize as did the other two. Midnight sighed as she smiled at Niwaki, “For now, how are you feeling? I can imagine after all outburst, you’re more sore than ever.”

Niwaki chuckled, “I’ll be alright, for real this time.” He smiled at Recovery Girl, “I’ll try to keep that advice next, Recovery Girl. Thank you.”

“Well,” Recovery Girl sighed, “with a quirk like yours, healing shouldn’t be a problem. You have quite a lot energy for that.”

“I thought Niwaki’s quirk was super strength!” Kirishima yelled astounded. “That’s not his quirk!”

Niwaki rubbed his head, “Inside voices please.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima flinched. “I mean with how you was about to like grip Sero’s tape and just fling him off---and me!”

“Well,” Niwaki sweat dropped, “it’s part of my quirk.” Niwaki had a feeling explaining was going to be quite a pain. “Let’s just says it’s like two sides of a coin?”

“Oh,” Sero called, “like Todoroki’s, right?”

“That’s kind of close to it.” Niwaki sweat dropped. 

Kirishima nodded a few times appearing to take in this information. Bakugou groaned which caused everyone to stare at him expecting some exchange of words between him and Niwaki. 

“Your hands,” Bakugou glared. “That’s the source of your quirk, isn’t it?”

Niwaki sighed, “I did say it’s hard to explain. But I mean Sero already got it.” 

Niwaki rolled his eyes as Bakugou clicked his tongue and jerked his head away. He had a feeling he was going to encountering Bakugou a lot more often for the rest of the year. And honestly, Niwaki wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

[hyu-ck]

*you just really need some coffee.

Pairing: Jaehyun/Reader

Genre: Barely A Drabble // Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2k

note: this is really short and truly just light repertoire, nothing happens i just love jaehyun and coffee.

By the time you were standing outside his door you had fully convinced yourself that this was the neighbourly thing to do. Nevermind the fact that it was closing in on one in the morning, or that you were dressed in your pajamas with your hair sticking to your cheeks- your need was near desperation.

It had taken a four hour drive from the airport, roughly eight hours of unpacking, and twenty minutes of your eyes losing focus against an instruction pamphlet for you to realize that you had no coffee. It was practically criminal, ludicrous, a disgusting thought to have. This realization did not come without a sinking feeling of defeat, something you’d draw likening to being harpooned in the stomach as soon as you stepped foot on land after being lost at sea, and the boxes marked crudely in red marker as “kitchen” were effectively strewn across your wooden floors in the heat of your anguish. No luck.

You had reasoned that your pride had already vanquished from the five minutes spent close to tears while you sat in the middle of a circle of kitchen appliances as if you were about to summon Wolfgang Puck himself to brandish you a mug of caffeinated goodness, so it didn’t take much for you to pad out into the cold hallway, only soft gray socks to protect your feet and your plaid pajama bottoms dragging on the floor.

From the earlier crash and cursing (and suspicious barking) from around dinner time you were certain the apartment next door was occupied, so now your hope was more towards them neither being a killer nor void of coffee- which at this point, you weren’t sure which would be the worse outcome.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arm to knock on the door, the oversized sleeve of your thermal shirt slipping from your shoulder ungracefully, but to your surprise to door swung open with your knuckles still inches away. In your state of fatigue the first thought you had was how disappointing it would really be if this very, very pretty boy was coffee-adverse, because to have that face and such a lack of correct thinking would be disservice to the world. The second thing you noticed was the large, happily tail-wagging puppy that sat behind him, black leash already attached and tongue too-big for its mouth.

The boy, in his own shock and surprise to find the new tenant standing sleepily outside his door, didn’t say anything and elected to rather stare blankly at you, velvet eyes wide and highlighted with dark bags almost purple enough to rival your own. He was preparing to go outside, a white knitted cap pulled over his head and pushing his bangs into his eyes, a large, navy puffer coat thrown over his own sleepwear, and his sweatpants stuffed into a pair of boots that were still untied. He cleared his throat, blinking once more, the sound finally waking you enough to drop your hand from its knocking position.

“Hello?” the boy asked slowly, furrowing his brow at you. You clicked your tongue to the roof of your mouth sheepishly, hand crawling up to your ear where you began to tug.

“Yeah- sorry,” you laughed awkwardly, “I didn’t really expect the door to open-”

“So were you planning to hover outside for the whole night, or…”

You scrunch your nose at his accusation. “No, because that would be both creepy and admittedly the worst stalking case in history.”

“There’s good cases of stalking?”

“Absolutely not, but there are better performed ones- this is besides the point.”

“Not really, I thought the point was why you were outside my door,” the boy cracked a short smiled at your disheveled appearance, and admittedly disheveled communication, watching at you tugged again at you ear lobe before dropping your hands together in a begging motion.

“I’ve come to you in a moment of great need,” you began, but he cut you off once more, dropping his shoulder tiredly into the doorframe.

“If you need dealer names go to apartment 5D, sweetheart, you’re knocking on the wrong door.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed in exasperation, dropping your hands, “What I need, is a cup of damn coffee. Please, please tell me you have something. I couldn’t care less what Mr. 5D is smoking.”

The boy choked on a laugh, looking into your wide, despaired eyes. “You should’ve just asked in the first place.”

“Okay, you’re the one who stilted that from happening- accusing me of stalking.”

“Poor stalking. Also you brought up stalkation first.”

“Stalkation isn’t a word and that’s purely semantics.”

“Do you want coffee or not?” The boy asked, pushing off the doorway finally, letting you peer past the intrigued pet and into the boy’s open floor plan. It was the mirrored opposition of your apartment, though yours much much less warm and orderly. Your kitchens were back to back through the wall they shared, bright white subway tiles breaking up the distance between the cabinets and slate countertops. A large, dark gray couch was in front of a t.v., practically hidden beneath blankets and pillows. Photos were strewn about the walls, a couple of painting that shared the same signature, and finally, in the corner of the room was a stack of books about five feet tall and three feet wide ranging from YA Literature and Anatomy textbooks.

Your eyes drifted back to the boy, to his sleepy countenance and his state of winter dress.

“Weren’t you about to go somewhere…?” you asked him, staring pointedly at the knee-height husky puppy before you, the one obediently sitting to the side.

“Oh!” he said, turning to the pup, “Here- you can wait inside while I run Tolkien out.”

“No, it’s fine I can just wait-”

“You’ll start to freeze in this hallway, really it’s okay. I’ll notice if you steal something anyway.”

“So first I’m a bad stalker now I’m a bad thief?” you playfully cry, slipping past his outstretched arm and into the much warmer space of his home. As you stepped further inside the scent of hot chocolate and fresh vanilla wrapped around you thickly, reminding you of a bakery in your hometown.

“You’re strangely adamant about your criminal ability,” he said,  whistling under his breath to move Tolkien from his spot on the ground, the mound of white and gray fur bumbling forward after his owner’s strides.

“It keeps people on their toes.”

“Cute,” the boy muttered, hand on the doorknob, “My name’s Jaehyun, by the way, and there’s coffee in the farthest right cabinet, I hope you know how to take it from there.”

“I’m Y/N! You’re a lifesaver, Jaehyun!” you called after the closing door, quickly turning as it clicked shut to half sprint towards the aforementioned cabinet. You pulled it open and were awed by the array before you, multiple bags and canisters of anywhere from dark to light roasts, from cherry smoked and chocolate walnut. You breathed in deeply, practically feeling a burst of energy rush through your veins as your fingers flitted over the foiled packages. You picked a simple pecan roast, something you had had before and enjoyed thoroughly, sliding over towards the coffee maker.

Your fingers hovered over the fancy contraption, uncertain of how to operate anything past your classic at-home coffee pot, one with a brew button and not much else. Just as you stood, clasping the bag of coffee grounds to your chest and pouting at the blinking purple lights, the door reopened.

“Got it going?” Jaehyun calls to your turned back, and you could hear him unclipping Tolkien and hanging the leash, the loud scuttle of over-sized paws coming towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you pouted, facing Jaehyun and letting the puppy nudged and sniff your hand.

“I didn’t even chuckle.”

“Yet.”

“No trust, sweetheart, no trust,” he sighed, shaking his head and walking to you. He had hung his coat beside the dog leash, now just wearing an old basketball hoodie. He pulls the hat from his head and tosses it beside the coffee maker, ruffling his hands through his hair before leaning down to peer at the machine.

“See the large button in the middle? Yeah the one that says brew-”

“Let me reiterate: don’t laugh and don’t be a little shit.”

“What happened to being a ‘lifesaver’?”

“I have the coffee in hand now, and the doors only a few strides away,” you say seriously, hugging the bag tighter to your chest.

“Hey, I paid good money for that.”

“I know the brand, this is maybe five dollars.”

“Students loans,” Jaehyun counters, taking the coffee from you and prepping the maker, “There’s some mugs in the cabinet beside the one where the coffee was.”

You nod, sliding in your socks back towards the cabinets and scrutinizing your choices. There wasn’t any two mugs that looked alike, a quirk you were fairly familiar with considering the pyramid stack of mugs on your countertop right now. You settled on the two largest ones you could see, one pale yellow and striped across the middle in a brilliant red, the other taller and a sea green with a drawing of a seal on it. You set them beside the gurgling pot and rested your head on your palms, watching the dark liquid gather.

“You know,” Jaehyun smiled, “My mother always said you could tell true love by someone’s eyes, and before today, I’d never knew what she meant.”

You grin slowly. “What can I say? Coffee never fails to satisfy.”

“Well, I could think of another way- ow!”

“I liked your mouth better when it was calling me a criminal.”

Jaehyun shrugged, and you could tell he was only kidding, his hair still falling in his eyes. “I’m hurt.”

“That’s usually what an elbow to the stomach does, yeah.”

A loud beeping drew a happy squeal from your chest, and you watched in excitement as Jaehyun poured you a steaming cup. He hands it over to you, your hands cupping around the yellow mug.

“You’re going to burn your tongue- creamer?” he opened the refrigerator, pulling out what seemed to be a cinnamon flavored creamer, the packaging new.

“It’s a worthy sacrifice,” you spoke into the mug, trying to blow as much cool air over the surface of the drink, “And no thanks, right now I just want this in me.”

“If I’m not allowed to make jokes you aren’t allowed to set them up.”

Jaehyun shook his head as he poured creamer into his own mug with a heavy hand, the near black color slowly melting into a burnt cream.

“Maybe you should just get your head out of the gutter, Jaehyun.”

“Sorry, can’t,” he took a sip from his mug, leaning up against the sink, “One of the side effects of male puberty, I think it slowly wears off with age.”

You snort. “I’d argue it only gets worse.”

“You sound certain about that.”

“One of the downsides to having a predominantly male family, I suppose.”

“So not a boyfriend?”

You shake your head, finally risking a drink of your coffee. And holy fuck, was it hot.

“If so,” you comment, feeling a numb burn dance on the roof of your mouth, “He probably wouldn’t be much older than you.”

“You don’t know how old I am, Y/N.”

“You said ‘Student Loans’ not five minutes ago,” you laugh, setting your cup down to pull yourself onto Jaehyun’s countertop. Normally you wouldn’t be so laxadisal around a new person, but your sleep-clogged brain had little to know reason for social courtesy.

“Fine, if your so sure how old am I?”

“Twenty….two?”

“Twenty one.”

You roll your eyes. “Basically the same thing.”

“But they aren’t, and I’m going to guess...twenty.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him. “Just a few weeks ago, actually.”

“I’d never had guessed,” he smiled knowingly at you.

“You literally just did.”

“It’s an expression.”

You smile into your coffee, forgoing mouth care and diving back in, happy to find it only mildly-scalding now.

“I really do appreciate this, Jaehyun, I was certain I was going to go insane with a cup of coffee for another ten minutes.”

Jaehyun chuckled, nudging the now resting Tolkien with his foot. “Don’t thank me, thank Tolkien. You’re lucky I was awake.”

“Apparently planning on staying awake,” you nodded to his mug before dropping to the ground in front of Tolkien, rubbing softly behind his ears to say thank-you.

“I figured I could help a desperate neighbor in need.”

“Do you know how to put together bookshelves?”

FIN.

[secretiveauthor]

3.4- Keep Running

Warning: There's mentions of blood and gore(?)-Please read at your own risk. I will have a little warning before just so you guys know to be prepared

 ~Enjoy

Secretive Author

================

She continued to run

================

November 5, 2038

10:58 PM

================

Running as fast as she could with her injured leg, Athena manages to make it into an alleyway. Falling down to the ground, she crawled her way behind a couple of old wooden boxes and leaned up against the wet Brick wall. So many things were running through her head as she put her hand over her mouth to prevent Jonah from finding her. She didn't even know if Jonah was still following her at this point. He could be bleeding out and dying for all she knew.

She let the tears run freely down her cheeks and let the rain meld with them and wash them away as she sobbed silently. Barley wearing anything, goosebumps littered every inch of her naked skin as she shivered against the brick wall. Looking down at her leg, she watched the glistening glass -shining in the moonlight to show her, her reflection. Her eyes traveled to every wound that was showcased.

Her beat-up cheek and dried blood running from her forehead from where Jonah threw her against the table. Her eye was starting to form a subtle purple-yellowish ring around her eye. She looked like a bad painting.  

Athena wondered why she deserved to be hurt over and over when all she did was care for and love Jonah. He was a drug dealer, user, and a drinker. She should have known what she was getting herself into... Her thoughts were cut off short when the pain in her leg was starting to get unbearable. If Athena didn't remove these shards of glass her leg could become infected. But if she pulls them out too quickly, she could cut a vein...

====================

Warning: Gore up ahead

====================

There were a total of five pieces of glass shard embedded in her skin. One large piece was in her calf, another piece was towards her ankle, and the other three were small -but she could still grip them- in the soles of her feet. One of which was in the middle of her foot. Taking in deep breaths, she gave herself a pep talk.

"Come on, Athena... You can do this." Cold and in pain, she finds a small wooden block from the ground and makes sure it's clean enough to put in her mouth. She decided to handle the small pieces first. Propping up her leg on her right thigh, she ran her fingers on the sole of her foot to feel any sharp pieces. It was dark so she couldn't really see much.

Once she found what she was looking for, she gripped the small shard gently. Pulling on it a bit to see if it was an easy pull, she gripped it even harder. Squeezing her eyes shut and sucking in a breath, she pulled out the shard quickly and effortlessly with minimal blood from the wound. She panted softly and pulled out the rest, letting the rain wash away the droplets of blood.

Those weren't so bad she thought. But that was only the beginning. Now it was time to move onto the larger pieces. This is what she was dreading. Getting the wood block ready in her mouth, she gripped the glass shard carefully and started to tug on it. She wasn't going to lie, it did hurt a bit when she tugged.

Biting the wooden block, she worked slowly but efficiently trying to remove the shard. Sweat rolling down her face and the glass shards pinching her nerves; sending a slow and long wavelength of agonizing pain all the way up to her stomach. She let out a muffled scream and felt the pressure release on her leg.

She removed one piece.

Athena looked down at her leg and saw how much blood was pooling out from it. She was never a fan of blood, she found it quite disgusting and it made her stomach churn. Knowing she had to do this one last time made her want to vomit. Doing the same with the very last shard of glass, she gripped it tightly and let out one last muffled scream.

It was done.

Blood pooled her foot and some of her knew as she panted heavily, feeling the painful throbbing sensation that surrounded her calf. She cried the last of her tears and spit out the wooden block to the side of her. With nothing to wrap up her wounds with, Athena was forced to seek out medical attention, or at least what the corner store had to offer her.

Cold and in pain, Athena rose to her feet, using her tiptoes as her working foot as she limped and held herself together for warmth, seeing how Athena was already shivering from the cold. Edging towards the end of the alleyway, from a distant, she could hear the sounds of a police siren coming from the back of her. She planted herself against the cold and wet brick wall and closed her eyes, praying her hardest that those sirens weren't for her.

Once the siren faded into nothingness, Athena checked both ways of the street to make sure there was nowhere in sight.  Seeing nobody-like she wished- she started to limp her way towards the 24-hour convenient store- or the corner store. Once she reached the entrance, she saw nobody but the clerk in the store. She sighed, thinking that it would just be her and nobody else around. But she fell down to her knees right when the doors opened for her, landing on the ground with a huge thud. The clerk picked his head up and saw Athena lying on the ground, blood running down her leg and filling the cracks of the tiles.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" The clerk made his way out of his spot and went over to help Athena up. Athena hissed in pain and leaned on the clerk- whose name she read as "Maxwell" and nodded at him. She didn't dare look up at him, fearing what his reaction would be when he saw how beat up her face was.

"Y-Yeah. Just the dog had gotten scared when I came home from work." Athena painfully laughed as she told her white lie. Maxwell seemed to believe her and noticed her shivering, her skin cold to the touch.

"Shit, you're freezing." He goes behind the counter and grabs his jacket, putting it over Athena's shoulders. Athena felt the warmth left from Maxwell's body and soothe her skin. It felt like a subtle heater, warming up whatever her body could manage. Looking at the opposite direction, Athena couldn't spot any bandages. Furrowing her eyebrows, she asked Maxwell if they had any.

"I don't suppose you have any bandages around, do you?"

"Yeah yeah, let me grab them for you. They're in the back in case of an emergency." And so Maxwell did, grabbing the medical kit from the back office, he grabbed what he was looking for and returned to Athena. From the corner of his eyes, he could see some purple and blues surrounding her cheek and dried blood running down her face.

Kneeling down, Maxwell started to clean the area, applying hydrogen peroxide to the holes. Athena hissed and watched as Maxwell did his magic. Maxwell noticed that these weren't dog bites. They were too scattered and too far apart to be a dog bite. He was skeptical that this girl led on more than she was telling him. So he decided to ask her some questions. 

"Your face... did someone hurt you?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Maxwell started to piece together what had happened to this poor girl he had just met. Athena shook her head and pulled back her hair, revealing the marks left by Jonah. 

"It's fine." She says. Maxwell stared in awe as his eyes traced every mark that was on her face. Maxwell started to become worried that this was a terrible situation for a girl like Athena to be in. So he offered a suggestion.

"Do you want me to call someone?" Athena snapped her arms out and shook her hands.

"NO!" Maxwell was shocked by her quick response and stared at Athena with wide eyes. Athena quickly realized that this could be a dead give away, so she had to be quick to come up with the reason behind her answer. Clearing her throat, Athena took a deep breath.

"I mean... no." She bowed her head and chewed her beaten up lip.

"I escaped before... before it had gotten worse." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." 

"Thank you." The pair stayed silent. Finally, wrapping up the last part of her leg, Maxwell stood up and managed to help Athena get off the stone-cold floor. Athena said her thanks and Maxwell said she could have her jacket. It was a large puffer jacket so the rain was no problem on her upper body but her legs and feet, now that was an issue.

"You don't know where I could get some shoes, do you?" Maxwell shook his head.

"Not this late at night, no. Sorry." Athena cursed to herself and thanked Maxwell again for all his help. Going on her merry way, Athena exited the store and decided it was time to seek shelter. With or without shoes. The rain had mostly stopped, only drizzling. Athena was somewhat grateful that it stopped pouring but she still needed to find a place to sleep in for the night.

From what her eyes could see in the darkness, she could make out a house but it looked... abandoned. On the other hand, there was an abandoned car parked in a dump right next to the house behind a fence. She would need wire cutters for either task and she could always try to climb over it but with the shape of her foot, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Athena needed to make a decision. 

================

--> Sleep in Abandoned house

--> Sleep in Abandoned car

================

[sleepinglightt]

EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE 150 QUESTIONS

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?My most recent ex

2. Are you outgoing or shy?I’d say I’m pretty outgoing

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?Mainly my dad, 2 more weeks!! I’m super excited

4. Are you easy to get along with?I think so? I talk a lot so I probably get annoying but then again there’s always a conversation so 🤷🏻‍♀️

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?I think so

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?People with positive energies, cute smiles, and nice hearts

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?Who knows man, I’m pretty emotionally damaged though. I have a lot of baggage.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?My dad, I miss him.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?Nope.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?Faith

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?“It just really grinds my gears”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?-down 4 u by blackbear-gorgeous by mansionz-surprise party by hoodie allen -ivy by frank ocean-dead roses by blackbear (I love blackbear ok I’m sorry his voice just makes me happy and I can relate with the whole people screwing you over aesthetic)

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?Uhhh yes

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?I believe in miracles, but I don’t believe in luck bc I think everything happens for a reason

15. What good thing happened this summer?Pride, I learned a lot about myself, and I got to be in a cool show with some cool people

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?No comment next question pls

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?I think there’s gotta be, the universe is just too big dude.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?No, but funny story I literally only thought he was cool bc we bonded over Chris brown and Halloween town and i was in like 1st grade. Honestly my first REAL crush on a girl who was my best friend and I thought she was an angel tbh

19. Do you like bubble baths?Yup, but I have to at least wash off my body before I take a bath bc I don’t like soaking in my own dirt ya feel

20. Do you like your neighbors?I don’t really know them, one of them is this kinda cool old guy though. He picks up twigs and leaves every morning, pretty dope dude if you ask me.

21. What are you bad habits?I get attached to easily, but I also distance myself a lot when people get to close bc I have trust issues. Like whenever anyone gets too close I freak out bc I don’t know how to handle emotions and I always try to break up with them before they hurt me.

22. Where would you like to travel?I wanna go to the red wood forest in Cali and I’d like to go somewhere where there’s a black sand beach bc I think those are pretty cool.

23. Do you have trust issues?I have major trust issues wdym

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?Sleeping

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?The fact it doesn’t work properly is kind of a bummer and it pisses me off. Look wise, I’m not too fond of my nose tbh. It’s kinda big and triangular and I used to think I looked like phineas.

26. What do you do when you wake up?On school days I normally try to wait a minute so I can see how much feeling I have in my legs before I stand up. Sometimes I fall over or whatever but it’s cool. On week ends and days I have doctors appointments I sleep in and then I lay in bed for like 30 mins to an hour and do stuff on my phone.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?I don’t really care tbh

28. Who are you most comfortable around?My closest friends

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?Yeah

30. Do you ever want to get married?Yup

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?My hair is long enough for like 3 ponytails

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?Ellen page and missy peregrym

33. Spell your name with your chin.Wo fMy name is Alex, but I tried

34. Do you play sports? What sports?I used to play softball and I was in love with it, but then I quit for theatre and music.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?Tv

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?I normally tell people, but sometimes I don’t

37. What do you say during awkward silences?I normally make a stupid joke

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?Uhhhhh next question plS

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?target and thrift stores. Especially value villages, I always find cool stuff at value village.

40. What do you want to do after high school?I’m gonna go to college, I recently have been considering doing pre med and then going to medical school but who knows 🤷🏻‍♀️

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?I think some people do, and I think some people have to prove that they deserve a second chance, but then there are people that don’t deserve even a first chance let alone a second chance.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?I’m either thinking or I’m trying to keep my mouth shut so I don’t say something mean

43. Do you smile at strangers?I always smile when I make eye contact

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?Space my dude

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?Sometimes I don’t get out of bed tbh, like today I didn’t get out of bed except to go to the bathroom and to take a shower. Most of the time it’s just bc of school

46. What are you paranoid about?Everything

47. Have you ever been high?Nope

48. Have you ever been drunk?Nope

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?Not that I know of

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?It’s rainbow tie dye

51. Ever wished you were someone else?Sometimes, but most of the time I’m happy in my own body

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?I wish I could learn to trust people better and let them in. I tend to isolate myself a lot, even from the people in my house because I’ve been hurt so much that it’s hard to trust people tbh

53. Favourite makeup brand?I really love Anastasia Beverly Hills but I also love tarte and kat von d 🤷🏻‍♀️

54. Favourite store?Target

55. Favourite blog?I have a couple, @thequeerexpoditionist @sapphic-sage @brianniscute and all of the lesbian blogs

56. Favourite colour?Yellow

57. Favourite food? Noodles

58. Last thing you ate?A ho ho bc I’m a ho ho

59. First thing you ate this morning?I had pancakes

60. Ever won a competition? For what?I won some tournaments in softball, does that count?

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?Nope I’m a good noodle

62. Been arrested? For what?Never

63. Ever been in love? Yeah

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?It was in a church parking lot and I bumped teeth with the guy and it was awkward, shortly after I broke up with him for my first girlfriend oops

65. Are you hungry right now?Not really

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?I don’t really have a lot of tumblr friends tbh

67. Facebook or Twitter?Twitter bc I love the tea

68. Twitter or Tumblr?Tumblr

69. Are you watching tv right now?Nope

70. Names of your bestfriends? Briann, faith, and Elizabeth

71. Craving something? What?I’m craving a cuddle buddy bc it’s cold and I just wanna lay on someone’s chest

72. What colour are your towels?They’re multi colored

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?Okay so I’m weird and I have like 5 pillows on my bed but when I go to sleep I don’t use any of them

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?Yeah don’t judge me

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?Probably like 10-15 but a lot of them are in my closet (just like me)

75. Favourite animal?I really love dogs, they make me happy. I also really love cats though. I LOVE ALL ANIMALS HONESTLY

76. What colour is your underwear?It’s blue

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?Swirl ;) just kidding I like vanilla

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?Vanilla with strawberries in it

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?It’s grey and it has dogs on it

80. What colour pants?I’m wearing black shorts

81. Favourite tv show?The x files, but I’ve recently been watching the good doctor and it’s really good!

82. Favourite movie?Dead poets society orrrr perks of being a wallflower

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?Mean girls what kind of question is that

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?I’ve never seen all of 21 jumpstreet so I guess mean girls

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?Gretchen, I can relate to her anger

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?Either the starfish, the puffer fish, or the little squid girl

87. First person you talked to today?Faith

88. Last person you talked to today?So far it’s been Faith

89. Name a person you hate?I don’t talk about him

90. Name a person you love?Briann!

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?Not really?

92. In a fight with someone?I don’t think so

93. How many sweatpants do you have?Like 1 pair no joke

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?Too many

95. Last movie you watched?THE NEW SAW MOVIE OMG

96. Favourite actress?Ellen page bc I have a crush on her

97. Favourite actor?Zachary Quinto bc I love him and he was great in Star Trek plus heS GAY

98. Do you tan a lot?I don’t tan, ever.

99. Have any pets?I have a dog named gizmo but he doesn’t love me as much as I love him :((

100. How are you feeling?Like crap, same as usual

101. Do you type fast?On my phone? Yes. On my laptop? No.

102. Do you regret anything from your past?I regret a lot of things, but ya gotta learn one way or another 🤷🏻‍♀️

103. Can you spell well?I think so

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?I guess so

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?Yup

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?Unfortunately I think so

107. Have you ever been on a horse?Yeah

108. What should you be doing?I should be writing an essay

109. Is something irritating you right now?Not really

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?Yeah

111. Do you have trust issues?Um yeah I already answered this oneeeee

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?I don’t even remember I try not to cry in front of people

113. What was your childhood nickname?I used to get called Grace in softball bc I always tripped over my own feet and I’d constantly get hurt lmao

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?Yup thank god

115. Do you play the Wii?I haven’t played the wii in forever but I bet I’d still kick ass in wii tennis

116. Are you listening to music right now?Nope

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?I love chicken noodle soup bc I love noodles

118. Do you like Chinese food?Yes yes yes

119. Favourite book?Right now it’s probably diary of an oxygen thief, but looking for Alaska is still my all time fav

120. Are you afraid of the dark?Kinda I get The Spooks™

121. Are you mean?Sometimes I can be really mean, most of the time it isn’t intentional and I feel bad but sometimes it’s well deserved

122. Is cheating ever okay?Nope

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?Probably not, I don’t own a pair of white shoes though

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?Nah

125. Do you believe in true love?Yeah

126. Are you currently bored?Not really

127. What makes you happy?Coffee, genuine hugs, dogs, hiking, the way the sun feels on a chilly day, good grades, sleeping, ya know the usual stuff

128. Would you change your name?I used to hate my name, but now I think it’s pretty cool

129. What your zodiac sign?I’m a Gemini with a rising Scorpio

130. Do you like subway?Not really

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?Next question

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?Faith

133. Favourite lyrics right now?“And you give good head, make daddy real proud of you” bc the way blackbear says it is really cool and I wish someone would give me good head and call me daddy

134. Can you count to one million?Probably not lmao

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?I’ve told a lot of dumb lies I think it’s a pretty human thing to do

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?I have to sleep with them open and I hate it bc I get really paranoid

137. How tall are you?I’m 5’6

138. Curly or Straight hair?I have straight hair but I think curly hair is really pretty

139. Brunette or Blonde?I have a thing for brunettes

140. Summer or Winter?Winter

141. Night or Day?I feel inclined to say night, but I like doing things during the day so idk

142. Favourite month?Used to be December but someone had to fuck it up for me so idk

143. Are you a vegetarian?No, I’m trying to be though

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?All chocolate, I don’t discriminate against chocolate

145. Tea or Coffee?Coffee, but I really love sweet iced tea

146. Was today a good day?Not really

147. Mars or Snickers?Snickers

148. What’s your favourite quote?“We’re all homos” - michael Scott

149. Do you believe in ghosts?Kinda yeah

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “But thanks to AA I had signed a new lease of life and I was determined to use it” -diary of an oxygen thief

[fadedsepiascribbles]

WIP Weekend

Trying to get on a better schedule with writing and updates. So, for as long as I can remember to do it, updates and WIPs on Wednesdays and Sundays. 

Unless I forget. Or move, again. Or have nothing new… So, essentially only when I feel like it. Yeah, that’s about right. Anywho, here’s two chunks. One will probably never be finished, but part of it will get up here.

“Cathie, are you alright?”

I’m-” Catherine shook her head, bending forward in her seat as the coughing began, again. He could see her reaching back for her purse, one hand still over her mouth as she groped blindly beneath the car seat. “I’m f-fine!”

“Where’s your spare puffer?” Turning to the console between their seats, Quatre rummaged through the glovebox. When they had first started seeing each other, it hadn’t been an issue, but he’d been insistent on keeping one around – ‘Just in case!’ – on the off chance that something like this happened. He’d never used one himself, but had become an expert in the past few months of when, how, and where to keep them so that they were never more than arm’s reach away. At least, that was the plan, but that hadn’t involved digging through so many take-away napkins – ‘I really shouldn’t be eating so much fast food…’ – before his hand closed around the inhaler. “Here!”

Catherine batted his hand away; having retrieved her usual inhaler from her purse, she was already holding her breath to keep the suspension in, the little plastic tube making its way back into the fabric black whole from which it had come. “I’m not an invalid, Quatre. It’s just-” Another deep breath, and she cleared her throat. “It’s just a bad day.”

‘And yet here you were out with the horses, lovey.’ On the ranking list of days, difficult or trying were always preferable to bad; the last bad day hadn’t been since the cookout a month before when he’d caught the steaks on fire. Quatre sighed as the engine turned over, pulling the little blue coupe off of the gravel and back onto the main road, giving Cathie time to catch her breath and adjust her belt before he spoke. “You could have asked Bonnie to cover your lessons for the day.”

“Today was my under ten day; the little ones don’t handle change well, and most of them are already nervous enough on a horse.” She shrugged, head canted just the one side, and he marvelled a moment at how she was so like, and yet so different from, her younger brother. “Besides, I don’t get paid if I don’t teach, Quat.”

And there it was, the start on a path they’d trod so many times already, but one he couldn’t seem to avoid. “Catherine, you know you don’t have to worry about working-”

“No.” His eyes were on the road, but he could see her in his periphery, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I won’t have you paying for me. I don’t need you to take care of me, Quatre.”

‘But what if I want to?’ He settled lower into his seat, letting the road take his attention for a time, resigned. It wasn’t a long distance back to the house, but the roads in the old county hadn’t ever run straight, so there weren’t exactly very many short trips. The curved paths and, occasional treed tunnels and holloways, were more pleasant focal points than the woman he loved seething in the seat next to him.

“Of course! She’s always pleasant to talk to, you know, even if it is kind of intimidating looking up at her, not that that’s bad, of course, because she’d certainly not hard to look at, and – Oh, oh! I’m sorry, Trowa; this is weird – is this weird? I mean, I know she’s your sister, and I don’t want to overstep my bounds or come off as crass, but she is very attractive, but not just attractive; you know, I think I like talking with her more than I like talking with you some days, which isn’t to say that – Oh, please don’t ever think that I don’t like talking to you Trowa – it’s just that I mean to say that, well, Cathie talks with me, and, you know, last month when I stopped by, and you were late so you couldn’t get her from work, would you believe she laughed at my joke about azido- azi- She laughed at the explosive one, and did you know her nose wrinkles up on top when she laughs – actually, I’m sure you did because you can see the top of her nose, but I didn’t know – but now I do because she was sitting in the car, you see – and it was SO cute, but – I mean – not just physically cute, but adorable puppy cute and – oh heavens, I didn’t mean to compare your sister to a dog, I’m so sorry Trowa, I jus-“

Oh, for shit’s sake. “Quatre, stop talking.” He grabbed Quatre’s other hand, all but forcing the other man to take hold of the second glass. His own freed hands fell to the smaller man’s shoulders, and Trowa turned them around, pushing Quatre ahead of him. “Take Cathie the drink, and tell her what you told me.”

“Trowa, isn’t that a little… a little forward? I mean, I know you want to cheer her up, b-but –”

‘God-damn it, I didn’t want to hear that word again, tonight. You two deserve each other!’

Quatre hadn’t paused for Trowa’s internal wingeing, and he always spoke more quickly when he was nervous, “– and she’s got her life so together, you know? I’m still just an associate, and she’ll probably think that’s boring – won’t she? – I know she laughed at my chemistry joke, but was she just being polite. Plus, I mean, what if she takes it the wrong way, and-?”

This was getting nowhere! Halfway across the bar, looking like the world’s saddest, least coordinated dance line, Trowa stopped them to turn Quatre back to face him. To the blonde’s credit, he didn’t spill any of either drink, even as the fingers on his shoulders tightened and Trowa leaned down into his face. “Quatre; shut up.”

[[Maybe now my brain will shut up and let me sleep!]]

[ask-jeff-woods-and-company]

This is my creepypasta oc, Keegan Rene, I’ve had him for a while now but haven’t really drawn him out! If you wanna ask him questions here, you’re more than welcome to! I need to flush out his personality more anyway. :)

-General Info-

Name: ⁃ Keegan Rene

Demon parasite: ⁃ Beelzebub

Nickname/s: ⁃ Beelz ⁃ Keeg

Voice: ⁃ Asura - Soul Eater ⁃ https://youtu.be/XlKaRHdY8Fk

Theme Song/s: ⁃ One Reason - Deadman wonderland ⁃ https://youtu.be/2pZ-UpjtlXY

Gender: ⁃ Male

Alignment: ⁃ Chaotic neutral

Personality Type: ⁃ ENTP-A ⁃ https://www.16personalities.com/entp-personality

Age: ⁃ 27 ⁃ 15 (at time of possession) ⁃ His aging process is severely slowed due to the demon

Height: ⁃ 6’

Weight: ⁃ 150

Species: ⁃ Human/Demon

Hobbies: ⁃ Thriller novels ⁃ Photography ⁃ Writing

Bad habits: ⁃ Scratching and biting at his skin ⁃ Talking to his demon in front of others ⁃ Alcohol ⁃ Aggressive behavior ⁃ Cursing

Good habits: ⁃ Kills criminals ⁃ Sometimes defends the innocent ⁃ Rescues animals

Like/s: ⁃ Dogs ⁃ Supernatural/horror games ⁃ Horror novels ⁃ Photography ⁃ The feeling of taking out the aggression that beelzebub fills him with ⁃ Kids

Dislike/s: ⁃ People who complain ⁃ Innocent people who pick fights ⁃ Criminals

Alias: ⁃ “Mouth monster” ⁃ “The demon”

Abilities: ⁃ Ability to open large mouths anywhere along his body ⁃ Turning into a massive red skinned monster ⁃ Reading the thoughts of others

Agility: 5/10 Speed: 4/10 Strength: 9/10 Passion: 6/10 stamina: 10/10 Defense: 7/10 Armor: 5/10 Resilience: 9/10 Finesse: 3/10 Tactic: 6/10 Determination: 7/10 Naivety: 4/10 Curiosity: 9/10 Charisma: 8/10 Magic: 7/10 Madness: 7/10

Weapon/s: ⁃ Teeth and claws ⁃ Increased strength ⁃ Somewhat increased speed ⁃ Monster form

Important Facts/Info: ⁃ Possessed by a demon. The demon over the years has become an integrated part of his body and their relationship is symbiotic. ⁃ Usually has sleeves rolled up for easy combat access

Affiliation/s: ⁃ Beelzebub ⁃ A few allies that are aware of his situation and that Beelzebub trusts

-Appearance-

Facial appearance: ⁃ Thin squarish face with high cheekbones and medium sized ears. Detached earlobes. ⁃ When he allows Beelzebub to show through his jaw splits along the sides of his head to create a huge jagged smile full of sharp teeth. This appearance can show only slightly, or all at once. There can be more than one mouth or protrusion.

Hair color: ⁃ dark ginger hair.

Hair length/type: ⁃ Hair hangs just below his jawline. His bangs split in two along his forehead and hang at his cheekbones.

Skin color: ⁃ Pale Caucasian skin.

Eye color: ⁃ When he allows Beelzebub to show through he can be seen with two glowing yellow irises with no pupils and black sclera.

Body Shape/Type: ⁃ Slender and lithe build with lean muscle mass.

Blood Type: ⁃ O-

Scars: ⁃ Scars litter his thighs and calves, as well as his biceps and upper back.

Tattoos: ⁃ No tattoos, the demon rejects them.

Piercings: ⁃ No piercings, the demon rejects them.

Common attire: ⁃ A dark blue/black sleeveless puffer vest with a furred hood. ⁃ Light grey or light brown jeans, usually torn at the knees. ⁃ Black or green long sleeve shirts, with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows or upper arms. ⁃ Black ankle boots. ⁃ A necklace with a yellow and orange charm that hangs around his neck, a gift from Kaitlin to him when he was a child. It reminds him of his humanity.

-Social Info-

Current location/s: ⁃ Major cities

Parent/s: ⁃ names unknown, human, alive

Sibling/s: ⁃ None

Relative/s: ⁃ Unknown

Friend/s: ⁃ Kaitlin Fitzgerald, human, deceased ⁃ Michael Patrick, human, deceased

Best Friend/s: ⁃ Kaitlin Fitzgerald, human, deceased ⁃ Michael Patrick, human, deceased ⁃ Gen Osborne, altered human, alive ⁃ Francis Rios, deity, half-alive

Romantic Interest/s: ⁃ None

Allies/Acquaintances: ⁃ Beelzebub, demonic parasite, alive

Enemy/s: ⁃ Mostly underground gangs or cartels

Rival/s: ⁃ Blanche Roberts, exorcist human, alive

Pet/s: ⁃ None

-Favorites-

Fave. Color: ⁃ Green

Fave. Food: ⁃ Raw flesh ⁃ Coffee

Fave. Music: ⁃ Whatever’s catchy ⁃ Rock

Fave. Animal: ⁃ Dog

Fave. Season: ⁃ Fall

Fave. Time of day: ⁃ Sunrise

Fave. Place to stay: ⁃ Building roofs

History (shortened pasta): ⁃ Keegan was a high school sophomore who always had a strong affinity for the paranormal and supernatural. He and his two friends, Kaitlin and Michael loved playing dungeons and dragons every weekend. After his dog goes missing, he decides to take his friends with him and go looking throughout the neighborhood and surrounding areas for his dog, as they both feel bad for him. His dog has always been a support system for him. When they spot his dog, the dog ends up running into an abandoned mine. His friends are too scared to follow him, but they offer to wait outside for him. They end up finding his dog, but there’s something wrong with the animal. It’s body is covered in mange and lacerations that seem to be tumorous and have teeth growing from them. His dog doesn’t recognize them and ends up attacking them. They escape unscathed. Keegan decides not to tell his parents as he’s sure they’d never believe him. In the next 3 weeks, young children in the area begin to disappear and the few that reappear become very ill and sick, covered in bite marks from which they eventually die. When Kaitlin disappears, Keegan and Michael decide to team up to look for her. They leave late in the night so their parents won’t notice their absence. After searching throughout the suburban area, they deduce that she must’ve gone into or had been taken into the woods. They walk for a while calling out for their friend but find nothing. Michael suddenly notices one of Kaitlin’s shoes lying in the dirt in front of the old mine. They reluctantly go inside. It’s deep and dark the farther they go. They begin to smell something terrible. They end up seeing what looks like someone lying in the darkness, about 20 ft ahead of them. They cautiously call out to it, thinking it might be Kaitlin. What turns around and walks towards them is what used to be Keegan’s dog. It now resembles a giant hairless bear covered in a mass of tumors, teeth, eyes and raw skin. The only thing that still slightly resembles a dog is the body structure and some patches of fur. As their eyes adjust to the dark they can make out the mutilated bodies of the missing kids, one of them being Kaitlin. As they run from the monster through the woods, Keegan suddenly realizes he can’t find Michael and is now alone in the dark woods, far from anywhere he recognizes. The only weapon he has on him is Michael’s birthday gift to him, a small pocket knife with his favorite video game logo on the handle, it’s supposed to resemble the main character’s weapon. Suddenly, the beast is upon him. He fights off the urge to cry or to keep running, he knows he’ll just die faster. He can only imagine the suffering his only friends went through, at the jaws of his once-dear-pet. As it lunges on him, he manages to slice it in the stomach and tear open the skin, his dog falls over dead. As he struggles to breathe and calm down, he notices a snake like monster climb out from deep inside his dog’s ribs. It has a deep jagged mouth and no eyes. Before he can run it pushes him down and forces its way down his throat. ⁃ Over the next few months as the disappearances stop and the police stop searching for the missing children, Keegan thinks it’s possible he could start his path to recovery, only to discover a voice inside his head that talks to him. It calls itself Beelzebub and talks about how hungry it is, how much it wants to kill everyone, but in a completely serious manner. It tries to bargain with him and yell at him. It tries to keep Keegan from sleeping, to make him hurt himself, to even kill himself so it can choose a new host, but he stands steadfast. One night, it forces Keegan to sleep walk through the house, he awakens just in time to stop the demon from attacking his parents. He notices the appearance of those toothy tumors along his arms and stomach. At this point, Keegan realizes he is a danger to society and those he loves and decides to leave home, go somewhere he can’t hurt anyone. ⁃ This lasts for a while, but the anguish is too much, too strong. But he can’t possibly kill himself and let this thing infect another innocent who might be less resilient. Instead he decides to take out its bloodthirsty tendencies on those who deserve it. Criminals. Mostly. Over time, he loses most of his morals and some innocents get in his way.

[ughandalso]

Coats, past and present tense

This isn't going to become a shopping blog, I promise, but I recently bought a winter coat and it was excruciating!

My old winter coats were starting to look, it must be said, a bit worse for the wear. According to my Gmail history, I bought my black DKNY parka from Overstock.com in 2011. (Hilariously it is still on the website. Out of stock, indeed.) 

That coat is starting to look a bit shabby because it's eight years old (plus there's a large rip in the lining because I am a very classy person who exudes elegance always) and my other jacket is a black puffer that I inherited from a friend (elegance ALWAYS). I still like it a lot, but it is starting to show its age and will probably become my walking the dog/taking out the garbage coat. 

I have been thinking about buying a new coat literally for months. In July it occurred to me that I could probably buy one at a steeply discounted price, but there was so much sweat constantly pouring out of me that I couldn't bear to even think about coats. But even though it is was 90 degrees last week, in OCTOBER, it will allegedly be cold again at some point (two days from now) and thus I recently spent three painful days looking for a coat.

The coat I really wanted is $1,100 and even for something I'll wear for years I really could not bring myself to do it. Not when I am still looking for a pair of black booties and another pair of good jeans! There are so many things to spend money on! I hate and love it.

I ended up with a North Face parka for less than half the price of the Canada Goose. It is very nice and because I could hardly stand to have it on for more than a few minutes when it arrived at my house, I think it will be very warm! It is also allegedly waterproof and windproof and one thing I can say about aging is that you no longer fuck around when it comes to staying warm in the winter. Some websites have those ratings where it tells you the temperature range for the coat, and each time I saw “25 degrees and up” I thought not good enough and kept looking. Basically, I would like a coat that will keep me warm if I happen to end up airdropped at Everest base camp.

Anyway, coats. I don't know what things were like when you were growing up, but I definitely did not have parents who knew what was "cool" or who particularly enjoyed spending a bunch of money on "fashion" for a kid. My mom tried! She got me a subscription to Seventeen, she told me to think about what I wanted to buy for back-to-school shopping, but it all fell apart when we got to Sears because Sears was in the budget and an unlimited spending spree at The Limited was not. Plus, I was too chubby and nerdy to shop there anyway. This is not me bagging on myself! It's just that at 13 I still looked like a stocky 10-year-old and not a fashion-forward young lady. “Cool” has not ever been in my wheelhouse.

As a youth, I was clueless when it came to outerwear trends but the first winter coat that I remember feeling really excited about was a maroon ski jacket with Fair Isle reindeer prancing around the front and back. I was in fifth grade and fucking amped about it. In high school, I somehow acquired an off-brand leather bomber jacket that I treasured. Oh! One year I asked for a Lands End Squall jacket for Christmas and was dismayed to discover that I hated it. An ongoing fight between my mom and I during these years was me not telling her when I didn’t want or like something she bought for me, then me not wearing the thing, then her being annoyed at the wasted money, then me wearing it out of obligation and hating it and feeling bad about myself. That Squall coat is a great example of this!

In college I think I mainly tried to avoid wearing coats for some reason, most likely because I didn't really like the ones I happened to own at any given time. I am remembering a sort of barn coat, which seems right given the era.

Later, as an independent single lady I also, for a time, bought a great many vintage coats, including a traffic-cone orange one that weighed a thousand pounds and had huge gold buttons and a hot pink lining. I got rid of that coat for some terrible reason and I really wish now that I had not! I wouldn't necessarily wear it but it definitely cost some 1960s lawyer's wife a fortune. I hope someone somewhere is giving it a great life.

Here's a coat mistake I made once: I semi-recently bought a jacket-length white puffer in an end-of-season sale. In an Ohio winter, nothing jacket-length can be taken seriously; also, it's WHITE. Why did I think I needed a white puffer! On me it is very Stay Puft™ and also I am not a 22-year-old Mormon blogger with an Instahusband who will take pictures of me while I laughingly throw handfuls of snow into the air.

Up until fairly recently I thought it was a good thing to have a large selection of coats but now it just stresses me out. More and more I just like to have one good thing instead of five or six okay things. Please do not bring this up if you are ever in my house and notice all the other things I haven’t applied this to yet.

[weneverfreeze]

Sam/Natasha and a puppy :)

This got so much longer than I was expecting haha. Thanks for the ask Marlee :)

If Nothing Else

It’s Nat’s idea.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks, looking around. “We forgot to do the dishes for three days last week. We forget every week, actually.”

Nat crouches to pick up a goldendoodle and smushes her face into its fur. It licks her cheek. “Those’re dishes. This is a puppy,” she says.

Sam scratches the puppy behind its ear. It’s very, very soft. He presses their noses together and he knows Nat’s looking at them both with crinkled eyes. She holds his hand.

He takes a breath.

He says, “How much?”

______

It’s a lot more work than both of them had thought. Phil doesn’t go outside easily, he doesn’t seem to know that jumping on people (even highly trained super-soldiers) is a no-no, and for the life of them they can’t figure out a way to stop Phil from overturning his water dish every few hours. They’ve had a substantial increase in the number of socks in their laundry hamper.

______

Phil loves the park, so when their schedules line up Nat and Sam take him to chase frisbees and squirrels. Phil loves Steve the most (“What’d you ever do for him?” Sam asks, complaining; his socks are wet again. Steve just shrugs) because Steve throws frisbees the farthest.

One day Steve throws a frisbee into a tree, and Phil barks at it and a squirrel pokes out to see what’s going on. Sam has to carry Phil around the park five times before he calms, and even then he only stops barking because Nat gives him jerky.

“He might be hopeless,” Bucky observes, holding a huge ice cream cone in one hand and Phil in the other. There’s a splatter of rocky road on his shirt.

Nat says, grinning, “I’ve always liked hopeless cases.” She puts her arm around Sam’s waist and looks up at him. Her eyes crinkle. “Why d’you think we started dating?”

“Oh, that’s cold,” Sam says. But he’s laughing along with Bucky.

______

At night when he can’t sleep Sam wonders how much of this is about not being able to biologically have kids.  They’ve talked about it a little but only in the most glancing of terms, and even more vaguely about adoption. He thinks they’d be okay parents. At the very least, they’d know nothing’s getting to their child.

But at the same time, adopting as superheroes is not the easiest thing. Steve and Bucky have been on the list for years, and Sam knows how much it cuts them up to be rejected time and time again. They check off every box—being superheroes, they know how to protect a child, they’ve got the money, they’ve got a stable home—but, being superheroes, there isn’t really ever a safety guarantee. For all anyone knows, Steve and Bucky could adopt and then be killed in some accident, and their kid would be parentless again.

Dogs are a different story. Nat’s curled around him, and he’s got his arm around her (she called being little spoon tonight), and Phil kicks in his sleep by their feet. Sam pulls her closer to him and she sleepily mumbles something about a puffer fish running a driving school. Phil whines at something in his dream.

Dogs are different. If nothing else, they can have this.

______

“He’s looking better,” Steve comments one day in June. They’re at the park again, a rare day when the four of them aren’t on call unless absolutely necessary, and Phil just came when called for the eighth time.

“Isn’t he?” Nat says. “Isn’t he the best puppy you’ve ever seen?” She fluffs Phil’s fur and he licks her palm and she laughs.

She’d had a nightmare that morning. She’d slipped out from bed at some point before six; he’d found her and Phil on the couch watching Say Yes to the Dress around six fifteen.

Sam draws a pattern on her back. “He is the best puppy.”

He thinks Bucky and Steve exchange a worried look, but he can’t tell.

They ask him about it later.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asks, his voice low. “Are you?”

Steve crosses his arms in concern, waiting.

Sam says, “It happens fairly often. For both of us. Hers are quieter than mine.”

Steve does the thing where his eyebrows pinch together and make his smile a million times sadder than usual. He takes Bucky’s hand and squeezes Sam’s shoulder. “If you want to talk,” he says.

“Thanks.”

______

“Chinese?” Sam asks over the phone.

There are explosions on her end. “Sounds good,” she says, a little breathless.

He puts the remote down and sits up. Phil jumps into his lap, and he pets him absently. “Nat, are you okay?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“I know. Wasn’t the question.”

Phil noses his hand; he’d stopped petting him. Sam closes his eyes and scratches behind his ear. “Nat?”

Gunshots. “I’m fine,” and she sounds exasperated enough that he believes her. “Just a minor drug bust.” More gunshots. “Okay, maybe a major one.”

“Be safe,” he says, because it has to be said.

“I will be,” she replies.

They hang up. He orders Chinese.

______

Every other Friday is their date night, which used to mean candlelit dinners in a new city every night. Now, however, they’ve gotten into the habit of taking Phil to a picnic in the park when the weather’s nice enough.

It’s only fair to repay him, Sam thinks. Nat blows bubbles for Phil while Sam watches from the blanket. It’s only fair. They haven’t had as many nightmares recently; Sam’s most recent one was on the Fourth of July (fireworks), but he hasn’t had any since then. He’s pretty sure it’s thanks to Phil.

Nat’s have decreased in frequency too, and he knows it’s thanks to Phil. She’s so much calmer now.

She’s laughing and the sky’s so blue, and they’re together, and they can have this. He smiles.

“Come play!” Nat calls, her eyes crinkled, and he hops to his feet.

He runs toward them and Phil yips at him and jumps at his chest, and Sam catches him and Nat all at once. She shrieks, laughing, and Phil barks madly. Sam pats Phil on the head.

Sam can hold them both for a while, probably, but Nat shifts to look at him and they tumble to the ground before he can readjust.

“Sorry,” Nat says, her voice breathless. She landed on his chest.

Phil sniffs around Sam’s head as he says, “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Nat smiles. She snuggles close to his chest, and they would’ve fallen asleep like that if Phil hadn’t peed on Sam’s shoes.

______

Sam hasn’t told her yet. He watches as Nat alternates between baking a pie and throwing knives at their dartboard, and Steve and Bucky are coming over soon, and he’s just realized he hasn’t told her yet.

Her fifth knife shivers in the bulls-eye before she says, “What?”

“What what?” He hurriedly pushes off from the counter to check the fridge. Phil trots up to him, and he pets him.

Nat does her superspy thing where she makes her voice all neutral and narrows her eyes a little. She opens the oven and says, “You’re looking at me funny. Not the good kind of funny, you know, the ‘oh, teach me your ways’ funny. Weird funny.”

“I love you,” Sam blurts out.

The kitchen grows heavy somehow.

He looks at her, and she’s biting her lip.

Great, he’s messed up—

“What?” He thinks she might be about to cry; her voice sounds tight. Phil plods over to her now and she picks him up, even though he’s too big now to be properly picked up.

Sam closes the fridge and leans against it. “That’s what I was thinking,” he says, and it’s a lot to keep his voice stable. “I hadn’t told you, but I wanted to. I love you.”

“Sam,” Nat says, and she’s definitely crying a little now. But her eyes are crinkling. “We’ve been dating for seven months.” She closes the distance between them, still carrying Phil, and says, “I figured. And you talk in your sleep.”

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. His heart is beating very, very fast.

Phil whines until Nat brings him close enough to lick Sam’s hand. She’s smiling. There are still some tears in her eyes, but he thinks they’re happy tears.

The timer goes off for the oven. Nat hands him Phil and pulls out the pie and tilts her head. It’s wonky; one half of the crust crumbled in the oven somehow, and some of the filling spilled over the edge.

“It’s just like us,” she comments. Then: “When are Steve and Bucky coming over?”

He checks the clock on the stove, heart still pounding. “In five minutes.”

The doorbell rings. Phil charges to it like he’s going to break it down.

“We brought pizza!” Bucky calls. They hear something plastic shuffling outside, and then Steve’s voice.

“And thumbprint cookies, and soda!”

Nat looks at the pie and then at him and quirks a smile. “I love you, too,” she says, and runs over quickly to kiss him, and then goes to open the door.

Steve and Bucky almost get stuck in the door (“Get off me,” Bucky says, and pretends to elbow Steve in the ribs) and set their bags on the counter, Phil wagging his tail behind them. Sam scoops him up even though he’s too big, and Nat comes up next to him. They listen to Bucky tell them about a plum pie recipe and Sam takes her hand. He presses a kiss to her palm, and she leans into his side.

If nothing else. If nothing else, he thinks, their kitchen full of food and friends, his arms full of her and Phil; if nothing else, this is pretty damn good.