#even if the guy at the deli stared at me funny

[waste-0f-spacee]

my bf is sick so he’s staying home and now i gotta figure out how to keep myself entertained for the rest of the day lol

[hoodharlow]

So I'd Rather Just

AN: everyone thank @sativachilombo <3 gif by @harlowgifs

Requested? My prima Kat

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 1.9k words

"Sober and focused, I cannot walk down no deli alleys

I still got the fellas 'round me, I love 'em and tell 'em proudly

My mama needs help adjusting, my father needs help accounting

I'm lookin' out heaven's window, I know that there's hell around me and—"

Miriam looked down at the monitor as Jack finished the last of his song. She motioned for him to walk out of the frame. She held out her hand and counted to five with her fingers. She closed her hand into a tight fist, letting the camera guy turn off the camera. 

"Okay and cut! That's a wrap!" She yelled. 

All the crew clapped and some of Jack's friends went to hug him. They were in Denver to film Jack's music video for Denver. Miriam was directing the music video and she thought they should film it in Colorado. So for the week they went to Denver. The mountain side was the last scene left to film and they finally finished it. He did a few where he was in his hotel suite with his friends, where he was on stage and where he was at a strip club having an existential crisis. 

Miriam looked over to one of the random goats roaming around and walked up to it. She squatted in front of him and began talking to it. 

"Jack, you were so good. This is gonna be a good one." The goat blinked and walked away. She used a boulder to push herself up. 

Jack was standing behind her with his hands on his hips. "You're not funny."

"Sorry, I saw white and a messy beard and confused y'all." Miria shrugged. 

Urban and Nemo coughed, hiding their laughs.

She went over to the camera crew and showed them her notes. She had outlined what she wanted for the music video and how to edit it. Jack watched one of the guys stare at her chest as she fluffed her hair back. She decided to opt out from wearing a bra under her halter top. Her nipples were on full display. Every so often the guy would look at them as Miriam talked. 

"Okay, if you have it done by Monday so we drop it on Wednesday that would be great." Neelam told the camera crew. She turned to Miriam. "If that's all, then we can head back to town. Are you guys going to your grandparents's place or back to the hotel?"

"We're going to your grandparents, right?" Jack asked Miriam.

"Whatever you want." She shrugged, wrapping her arms on his side. "Just know it's three hours from here."

"Yeah, let's go back to the hotel. We can drive in the morning." Jack nodded. 

They went hand in hand back to Miriam's G-Wagon. Jack helped Miriam into her side. He went over to Urban and his other friends and they briefly chatted on where to meet up for dinner. He bro-hugged them then walked back to the car. He was about to back out when a goat stood in front of them.

Miriam stuck her head out and yelled, "Jack quítate!" at it. With that the goat walked. 

"I hate you." Jack mumbled, as he gripped her headrest to go in reverse. 

"Then why do I have this?" She showed him the jewelry on her left hand.

"You're worth $25 million, I'd be an idiot not to give you that." He said, trying not to laugh. "I'm joking, I gave you that because I love you and I wanna grow old with you." 

"Mhm," she rolled her eyes.

"I'll even let you play whatever you want." Jack offered his phone to her.

"I mean this is my car so I should be able to play whatever I want." She said, queueing up 'Pocketful of Sunshine' as 'Drop the World' by Lil Wayne played.

"There's so many fucking goats." Jack commented as they drove.

"Fun fact, these goats aren't native to Colorado. They were brought in from Montana in 1947 for aesthetic and hunting purposes." Miriam explained. 

"Fucking nerd–"

"TAKE ME AWAYYYY, TO A SECRET PLACE. A SWEET ESCAPE, TAKE ME AWAYYY" Miriam belted out, cutting him off. 

Jack rolled his eyes and let her enjoy her white girl song. By the time they reached the actual highway that led them to Denver, they were hit with traffic. Miriam lowered the music and pulled herself into a ball. She rested her head on the headrest and dozed off. Jack took off his jacket and draped it over her. Almost two hours later they finally got to their hotel. 

"We might as well have gone to Aspen." Miriam grumbled. 

She got out of the car bent over backwards to stretch. She effortlessly pulled herself up without her hands and then twisted herself, cracking her back.

"Glow Stick, are you done?" Jack asked.

"No." Miriam said, proceeding to crack her knuckles and wrists. She pulled her curls into a messy bun. "Now I am."

Jack rolled his eyes. He grabbed their things from the backseat and they went straight to their room. 

Miriam began stripping and kicked off her leggings and top. She tossed her panties at Jack and went in the shower. He followed right behind her. Jack pressed himself onto Miriam, gently pushing her against the tile wall. He bent down and nipped at her neck. One of his hands went in between her thighs. 

"You're wet." He murmured against her neck.

"Yeah because I'm in the shower." She giggled. 

Jack pouted. "I wanna eat you out."

"Well I wanna eat dinner, so…"

They finished showering. Miriam changed into some KentuckyBoyTyler jeans and a simple cropped white tee and her Vans. She went in her tote and took out a big stack of ones. She weighed it in her hand and guessed it was about a thousand dollars.

"Is this yours?" She asked him. 

"Yeah I wanted to recreate the strip club scene." 

 "With only a thousand dollars? Kehlani threw more at me. Plus, I can't stand seeing you go through it when I shake ass."

"Given your talent it shouldn't surprise you that I look devastated." Jack said sarcastically. 

Miriam threw her empty tote at him, making him laugh. "Fuck you! Do you know how hard it is to twerk whilst doing the splits?"

*

Miriam opened one of the takeout bags they got for their leftovers and took out a slice of pizza. She ate while a handful of Jack's fans took pictures with him. They spotted Jack and Miriam while they ate but when they went to pay the fans followed them out, asking for pictures with Jack. Miriam went in the car to wait for him, but she was ready in case his fans got too in his face. She took mental notes of the videos she'd seen of his manager herd him away from fans. He waved goodbye at them and sauntered back to Miriam.

"Hi Mr. Popular." She said, singing popular like Kristen Chenoweth in Wicked.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off. 

The drive back to the hotel wasn't long. They retreated to their suite. Jack changed into his grey muscle tank and the grey sweats he wore when they filmed in the hotel room. Miriam took off her clothes and put on the yellow and brown striped shirt Jack wore. She plopped herself in the middle of the bed and scrolled through the channels to see what was on. Scoob was on Cartoon Network so she let it play. She tuned in just in time because a snippet of Jack's song played when the Scooby gang went trick or treating. 

"I always forget I made that song." Jack said, laying next to her. 

"That's literally my favorite song. Don't ever disrespect Yikes like that." She frowned. 

"What if I get a little disrespectful with you?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. 

"Okay." She smiled innocently. 

Jack pounced on her. He knelt in front of her and spread her legs so he'd have more room. They began kissing and nipping at each other. He kissed up her body, pushing his shirt up. One of his hands went down to tug her panties off, but she stopped him.

"Shit, I thought…" he said apologetically, sitting up. 

"No, I just wanna do this first." She pushed him against the pillows and got in between his legs. 

Miriam pushed back the sleeves of his shirt and laid on her stomach with her ass in the air. Jack tugged down his sweats. Miriam kept her brown eyes on Jack's blue ones as she took his cock and slowly stroked him. Her mouth practically watered at it. She sucked his tip and licked his sides.

"I wanted to call cut and spend hours doing this when we were filming you in bed." She muttered as she stroked him.

"Hours? You know I can't even last ten minutes when you– fuck!" He threw his head back feeling himself deep in Miriam's mouth. 

Miriam’s eyes never left Jack’s as she took him back in her mouth. His stomach began to contract after a few bobs, letting her know that he was close. Slowly, she pulled him out of her mouth until only his tip rested on her tongue. She widened her eyes, making her look more innocent as she stroked him. 

"Let me come in you." He panted. 

"You are?" She said in a duh tone.

"Your pussy smartass." He reached forward to her ass and smacked it.

"How do you want me?" She asked him. 

"Stay like that." Jack said, getting out of bed. 

He got behind her and pressed her back down so that only her ass was in the air for him. He knelt in front of her and aligned himself to her entrance, slowly pushing himself in her. Miriam quietly gasped as he slid in her. His hands gripped her waist, slowly rocking his hips into her.  

As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Miriam couldn’t hold back. She begged Jack to keep fucking her at that irritatingly slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over, his chest against her back. His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Miriam. She pushed her hips back against him, lazily meeting his thrusts. Miriam pushed back her hips rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped the long sleeve she wore with one hand, using it as an anchor, while the other went back down to her clit. Jack worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Miriam. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. Her quiet praises filled the room, egging him on. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after, pushing himself deep inside. 

"Good?" He asked a few minutes later. 

"Like always." She hummed contently.

Her phone went off. She reached for it and rolled on her back while Jack laid next to her, toying with the hem of the shirt. 

"Solana sent me some teasers to post for Snooze since it comes out tomorrow." She said, showing him a picture of Jack sitting by SZA. 

"I can't believe you had me eat fries that were on her ass." Jack chuckled.

"You're right, that should have been me." 

"Personally I would rather eat our come off your pussy." He said, swiping his fingers in between her legs. 

"If you wanna eat me out just say that." She rolled her eyes. 

Jack smirked, "Actually, I want you to sit on my face." 

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @cherry4everrr ​ @carma-fanficaddict ​ @youngharleezy @youngharleezyxo ​ @babyharleezy ​ @that-90s-girllll ​ @alinaharlow @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract @whywontyoulovemecami @camificrecs @itsyagirljaz @w1ldthoughts @killatravtramp

[moominofthevalley]

Sempervirens

If all else fails, write some letters.

emily rose

teen | wc: 1.1k | cw: mentions of grief

a/n: first drabble of 2024. sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy ♡ banner credits from airidescence

It’s been ten years and I still don’t know where to put all this grief.

Uncle Tommy suggested I see a shrink, so I told him to fuck off. I promised him I’d write these stupid letters instead. Journaling, mindfulness, yoga – all that does nothing for me. This shit better work. So…here’s a list of things in my life you never got to see.

I stopped doing soccer right after you passed. I’m sorry.

I know even when you were here I had horrible grades. But I made it. I graduated high school. I got into college, worked my ass off, and somehow became the youngest person in NYC to make the Homicide Division. I hope you’re proud of me.

…But it’s brutal. Captain Thompson is just cruel. Tommy met her at a few holiday parties and I don’t know. There’s no concrete evidence yet, but I know there’s something up with her. And the rest of the NYPD. I’ll move on to something better eventually.

By the way, Tommy misses you too. A few weeks ago, we looked through the attic and found a bunch of old photo albums and VHS tapes. We spent all day looking through them. There was a picture of us sitting on your ‘Smoke Couch.’ The black leather one in our old living room. It still reeks of cigars.

My head hurts writing this. Me and Tommy still have nothing for you. No evidence, no lead. Not any fingerprints. Even the files have nothing. I’m so sorry. There has to be something. You’ve been gone ten years and all that I have left of you are old photos and some beat-up jackets.

You need justice. I need answers.

We miss you so much. I’m going to stop writing before I throw up.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 09/10/18

* * * *

I had a fluffernutter sandwich this morning and thought of you.

Don’t know why I love it so much. I probably have a dozen cavities by now. I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last letter…a lot has passed. Anyway–some life updates as promised.

I quit the NYPD. Are you surprised? I found so much shit - probably enough to fire every cop in my precinct - but HR turned on me. So I left. I spent two weeks moping, just bartending at the Drunk Tank until Tommy made me chat with an old friend of his. Mafalda. I think you knew her too. It’s so much better at the agency. There’s this guy named Luke who does all the computer stuff for us. He’s pretty sick. He lost his mom around the same time I lost you. And there’s a forensic analyst who occasionally works with us, Ruby. I know you were never much of a gossip, but they just started dating. They’re cute together. You’d like them.

Also, I got rid of that stupid leather couch you loved. It was all ripped up and probably had mold in it. And it smelled like absolute shit. Smoke and Horse Creek. Yuck. Uncle Tommy and I spent a whole day looking for a new couch. I landed on this velvet green one with a fancy fringe at the bottom. I can already hear you calling me bougie right now.

They say this in movies, but I didn’t expect life to change so fast. I have a dog now. Twilight. I found her at some deli during an investigation. (Everything’s fine now, don’t worry). She’s adorable. I woke up this morning with her head in my arms, staring at me with her big brown mopey eyes. I love her so much.

You know, it’s annoying funny how people enter your life and stay there. I don’t think I’m complaining this time. His name is Trystan Thorne and you’d love him. Uncle Tommy does, but I think it’s because he buys him fancy donuts every morning. I wish you could meet him. I barged into his penthouse one day and now we’re partners. Isn’t that weird? He’s infuriating, but it’s nice to have him around. Don’t tell him I said that. I told him some stories about you today and it was so nice to talk about you. I know I introduced you to him the last time we saw you.

Finally, some good news. We might have something for you. Big V. I told Tommy and Mafalda about her and they both think there might be a chance she did it. I hate that it’s taken so long to come up with just one possible lead. But I’d do anything to know what happened to you. I hope you know that.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I miss you so much. Here’s to fifteen years without you.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 10/08/23

* * * *

It’s only been a few months since my last letter and so much has happened. Trystan was put on trial for a murder he didn’t commit. We had to fly half the team to Drakovia as a hail mary. Ended up playing lawyer for a few minutes. It was weird.

I messed up so many times. Trystan and I fought over something we both knew the answer to. Sebastyan…Fuck. Vasili is dead. Every time I remember that look in his eye, I want to throw up. My head hurts. It’s 3 AM and I can’t sleep.

Trystan is sleeping right beside me. He’ll never admit it, but he drools in his sleep. I love him so much. He always listens to me talk about you. I want to bite him sometimes. I keep imagining all the dinners and talks we could’ve had, just the three of us. You could’ve told him all of your stupid jokes - like the one about eating a clock.

Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. Tommy told me he had something planned. I bet you ten bucks it’ll be a party at the Drunk Tank. I remember growing up, you guys would spend the entire night decorating the apartment with balloons. I hope Tommy isn’t doing that this year.

You’re here everywhere I go. I was doing laundry earlier and saw one of Tommy’s button-downs that used to be yours. It still smelled like you. I make coffee just like you did - black. I have your small, bulbous nose. I took a train to Montauk and thought of you.

I hate that your life was taken from me. But I will find you at the end of mine. I love you, Dad. Come visit me sometime? Please.

Always living, Emily Rose 3/31/24

* * * * I’ve missed writing. Fun fact, this was originally going to be called ‘someday, anything.’ Glad I didn’t go with that! I wrote this all in a day after I found the most devastating YouTube comment and just had to write something. Also, if you didn’t notice the start of the 2nd letter is a little reference to this fic. Anyway - there’s definitely more writing coming from me soon...Hope you enjoyed this angst xx

Click here for the masterlist of all my works so far! Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @stars-are-within-me@shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @calisomnia @kyra75 @icarusfallsforever @inlocusmads @tessa-liam

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[wonderlandleighleigh]

He has already been ruled out. She made up her mind long ago that she would never date a man with his title comic

And she never expected to go back on that vow.

Not ever.

She knows the guys from the Stage Deli, after all. Goofy. Funny. But not quick enough to keep up with her.

And Midge doesn't need the man she's with to be overly sweet or generous or kind. She married Joel, after all, and he was none of those things. If he hadn't cheated and left, she'd still be married to him.

But someone who can keep up. Someone who gets it.

Benjamin had almost gotten it, but even he, Mr. Hopkins-educated super-surgeon had looked downright befuddled at her Gaslight set that one time.

And while Joel keeps presenting himself as an option, these years after their divorce, he gets it, but he's not happy about it.

He wouldn't be happy with her. Wasn't happy with her the first time.

And then there's Lenny.

Keeps up like a champ. Doesn't get mad about how funny she is or how mean she can be onstage. Wants her to succeed.

Is kind in the most bizarre ways possible.

And here she is, three months after Carnegie Hall, out on a real live actual honest-to-fuck date with the man, sitting across from him in a dimly lit restaurant in Harlem, where most people don't recognize either of them. Just a couple of white people out for dinner.

And he looks so handsome and...

Happy. Which is different for him.

Midge is used to seeing him a little more maudlin all things considered, but he looks happy. Healthy, too. He's been clean since December, and there is something a little sharper about him. A little less glazed over.

She likes it a lot.

"I wasn't supposed to date a comic you know," she says with a grin as she sips her martini.

Lenny chuckles a little, an eyebrow lifting. "Oh, really? Afraid to date one of your own?"

"Well, the guys at the Stage Deli aren't exactly an eligible group," Midge jokes back. "But you..."

"Me?"

"You, Susie will absolutely murder me for dating," she tells him. "For so many reasons."

"And yet...here you are."

"Here I am."

"Why?"

Midge takes a breath. "Well. Free dinner."

"Always a plus."

"And...you're...you."

"I'm me. What does that mean?"

She laughs a little. "Lenny. You know what that means. It's the same reason you're here with me, despite the fact that I am nowhere near the type of girl you usually go for."

"How do you know?"

"I'm not blonde, I live on the Upper West Side, I have a river view and my father offered you a blintz."

He takes a breath, looking caught out. "Right."

"But here you are," she points out.

Lenny nods. "Here I am."

"Because you're you. And I'm me. And there's just..."

"Something," he agrees. "But what is it?"

Midge shrugs. She knows what it is. She's just not willing to say it out loud until he does. She knows that at any moment he may cut and run out of shame or fear or...

So she holds it back.

Lenny narrows his eyes at her. "You know. I know you know."

"No idea."

"You're a terrible liar, Midge."

"Well the sex was good," she comments lightly, taking another sip of her drink.

He nods in agreement. "Very good."

"Glad I didn't disappoint," she smirks.

"You'd have to try very hard to do so," Lenny tells her. "But it's something else."

Midge smiles mostly to herself and looks down at the dessert menu. "Everything here look incredible."

"Midge."

"Chocolate cake sounds nice...we could split a piece."

"Midge, I think I know what it is," he says softly. "But I need you stop talking about cake so I can tell you."

She looks at him, slowly setting the menu down, folding her hands in her lap. "Okay. Hit me."

He gazes at her; the same way he did back in Miami, across that table in that strange, smoky club. "See. I uh. Think I might be in love with you a little."

"Only a little?" she asks teasingly. "Way to make a girl feel special."

He just keeps staring.

Midge shrugs. "it's possible that's what it is. It's possible I might be a little in love with you, too. We've known each other for a few years now and every time we see each other we get closer. And...that very blue hotel room was..."

"Something."

"It really was," she breathes out. "Okay. So let's say we're in love with each other, what do we do about it?"

"I think were already doing it," Lenny points out.

"Right. We're on a date. Are we in a relationship?"

"Could be. If that's what you want."

Midge tilts her head. "Is that what you want?"

He stays quiet for a long moment before responding. "If I say yes, what does that mean?"

She grips the napkin in her lap. "It means...meeting my parents formally. Meeting the kids eventually. Run-ins with my volatile ex. Dealing with the other side of my life other than just the comedy and career side."

Lenny nods, thinking that over.

"What does it mean for you?"

He shrugs. "Dealing with my bad moods as well as my more charming ones. Meeting my terrible mother. Maybe meeting my wonderful kid. Having to put up with my frequent arrests and my going back and forth out of town."

"It sounds like we both bring a lot of really grown-up things to the table," Midge comments. "And I guess the question is-"

"Is it worth it?" Lenny finishes the sentence.

Her brain immediately tells her yes, but she doesn't say it. She knows the way she's looking at him says it for her anyways. It's hard to hide how much she wants this.

This person.

All the time.

In every way.

When she looks at Lenny, his eyes are more vulnerable than she expected to see them, and it dawns on her that he needs to hear her say it.

Midge reaches across the table, resting a hand on top of his, leaning in. "Yes, Lenny."

The ghost of a smile crosses his lips as his fingers grip hers gently. He nods, letting out a slightly relieved breath. "Yeah."

"You know," she smiles at him. "If you don't like cake that much they have pie."

"Do you like pie?"

"I love pie."

He nods again, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. "Pie it is."

[outerbankies]

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

[provisionalsparkle]

The Boy Next Door

Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.

[Word count] 6.7K

[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.

[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!

Summer.

The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…

For most people.

For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.

You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.

You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.

College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.

It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.

There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.

“Honey? You home?”

“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.

“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?

“Yeah…”

“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”

“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”

“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”

“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”

“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”

“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”

“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”

“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”

“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.

“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”

Bang…

Christopher…

You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”

You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.

You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.

He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.

Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.

When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.

You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.

“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.

“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”

“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!

“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.

“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.

“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.

The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.

And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.

Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.

You never held his hand in chemistry again.

Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.

When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.

It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.

He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.

But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.

He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.

Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.

Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.

Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?

University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.

You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.

Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.

That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.

Ah… the good old days.

What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?

To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.

A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.

“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”

“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.

“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.

“Fine…”

The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -

The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.

Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…

“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.

“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.

“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.

There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.

“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.

You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.

“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”

With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.

It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.

You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.

No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.

You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.

You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.

Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.

Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!

Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?

But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.

You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.

“You know those are bad for you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.

“Sorry I didn’t -”

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”

“ - mean to startle you…”

“Damn it, Christopher!”

“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”

“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”

“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.

“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.

There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.

“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”

“I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”

“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.

“I left without saying anything.”

“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”

“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you left without saying anything?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.

“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?

“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”

“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.

“I really messed up there…”

“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.

“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”

“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”

“I got hurt.” You admit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”

“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”

“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.

“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”

“Really…Plain old me?”

“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”

“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”

“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.

“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”

“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”

“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”

“Did you finish school already?”

“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.

“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”

“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”

“How so?”

“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”

“We were just kids.”

“I guess we were…”

Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m single too, you know.”

It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.

Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.

Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.

Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.

Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.

The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.

And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.

He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.

It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.

The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.

He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.

It was all horribly, horribly shameful.

But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.

Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?

It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.

It was driving him fucking insane.

If only you knew.

Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.

And Chris was particularly fuckable.

Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.

Everything was perfect.

“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”

Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?

It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.

“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”

“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”

“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.

“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”

“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.

“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.

“Are… are you serious?”

“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”

Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.

He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.

“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.

“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.

He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.

You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.

“No.” He growls.

“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!

“Let me.”

And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.

He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.

He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.

It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.

He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.

It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.

It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.

Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.

Things started to change though.

The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…

You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.

You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.

You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.

You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.

He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.

You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.

“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”

“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.

“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.

“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.

“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.

“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.

“I know… but what else can we do?”

There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.

You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.

But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.

He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.

It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.

Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.

A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.

It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.

The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.

However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.

Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.

“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.

And then you see him.

Him.

Your him.

He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.

“I… live in 304.” He says.

“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.

You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.

“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.

“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.

This can’t be.

But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.

“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.

“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.

“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.

One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.

It’s real.

[milkiane]

Hi Liane! Could you do a blurb for George with the dialogue “Why would you do that”/ “Do you not like it?” 💕

it’s a date

pairings: george weasley x reader

warnings: george’s boxers hihi

word count: 1890

note: kinda got carried away lol

“c’mon y/n, just one date,” george prompted, falling by your side as he walked alongside with you, “if you didn’t have fun, then i solemnly swear that i’ll leave you alone,”

you sighed, stopping on your tracks to look at him, “look, george, you’re a lovely bloke, and i’d love to spend some time with you,”

george beamed at your words but you’re not quite finished yet, “but i’m really not looking for any romance at the moment. ’m sorry,”

his face dropped, pursing his lips together, “s’alright,”

you offered him a small smile and continued walking to your next class. george bit his lip before speaking up again, “y’know i wouldn’t really stop asking you, yeah?”

“yeah, but i really think you should stop,” you murmured, “i hate turning you down,”

he stood in front of you, preventing you from walking any further, “then go out with me,” he urged. he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. his hand stopping to caress your cheek.

you sighed once again. you have lost count on how many times you’ve sighed in the presence of george. you placed your hand on top of his, “george…”

“right, erm, i’m sorry,” he breathed out in disappointment, dropping his hand to his side, “i’ll, uh- see you around,”

you watched him in despair as he walked away.

george has been trying to ask you out ever since sixth year started. you liked george, of course. how could you not? he’s charming and funny, and smart,— and well you get the point, but you just got out of a relationship a few months before school started and you wanted to give yourself some time before committing yourself to another guy.

but george wasn’t just another guy. you could see that, and— blimey, you’re late for potions now.

after classes, which george didn’t even bother listening to, he rushed out and went straight to his dorm, leaving fred peeved and confused.

george stripped out of his clothes, abandoning his uniform on the heap of clothes in the corner. he laid on his bed, only in his whizbangs-designed boxers.

he thought of several ways to win you over. flowers, love letters, singing cupids, fireworks— anything at all. but none of them seemed good enough for you. you deserve so much more.

the door opened, “oi, what’s wrong with you leaving all of a sudden,”

“d’you think she’ll finally fancy a date if i do some sort of grand gesture?” george asked, still staring at the board of his four-poster bed.

fred sighed, “s’this about y/n again?”

“‘course it is,” george sat up, “bloody hell, mate. she still hasn’t agreed yet,”

“why won’t you lay off her for a moment?” fred questioned, sitting on his own bed but still looking at george.

“i don’t know. i’m hopelessly in love with her, freddie,” he groaned, exasperatedly rubbing his face.

fred grinned, loving how whipped his twin was. he, too, thought for a moment, doing his part as the older twin, “well, if my proposals still matter, ‘ve got an idea,”

george spun his head towards his direction, “at this point, i’ll do whatever it takes,”

it started with a flower. and a note.

george searched every corner of the school’s garden for a certain flower. unbelievably, he went straight to the library, and this time not for mischief— much to madame pince’s surprise. he went from shelf to shelf, trying to look for a certain book.

after not knowing where else to navigate, he approached the librarian quite sheepishly, “erm, d’you somehow know where books about flowers are?”

the librarian eyed him curiously but said nothing at all, he followed her quietly and thanked her after grabbing the stacks of books handed to him.

he spent at least an hour and a half last night browsing through the books until madame pince had to make him leave for curfew.

george held the flower and the note charmed with the sticking charm with such delicacy, fred was staring at him in disbelief, but it went unnoticed by the other ginger as he searched through the hallways for a certain y/h/c.

once he spotted you, he broke into a jog, stopping in front of you.

he tucked the daisy flower in your hair and attached the sticky note to your forehead. before you could even react, he kissed your cheek and ran away.

you brought your hand to your cheek and huffed amusingly. you removed the sticky note from your forehead and read it, a daisy for my blooming (as always) pretty girl. this flower symbolizes innocence and purity, it also conveys loyal love and “i will never tell”. ironic though, because i tell you that i fancy you all the time. have a lovely day :-) -george

a smile crept up your face, you took the flower from your hair and arranged it on the paper. as soon as it was on the perfect spot, you did a charm, causing the enchanting daisy to be beautifully pressed against the paper. you gingerly placed it in your journal for safekeeping.

the next day it was another, but this time, it was delivered by a mousy first year.

it was in a white envelope sealed with a red heart. there was an evident bump on the envelope, probably another flower.

once you’ve thanked the first year, you scurried off to your next class. upon sitting on your assigned seat, you opened the envelope, a sunflower represents pure thoughts. it symbolizes adoration and dedication— a symbol of dedicated love. you’re on my mind all the time, love. i’m starting to wonder if you ever get tired of running through my mind. -george

and undeniably enough, a small sunflower was also in the envelope. heat rose to your cheeks, biting your lip to prevent smiling too widely. you scanned through the classroom and locked eyes with george. you sent him a small smile and did the same charm to press the flower on the note.

it has been at least a few days since george gave you the last letter. you haven’t seen him in those said days. you honestly do not know what to feel about his sudden actions.

when you entered your dorm, your roommate smiled at you, “hey, y/n, there’s a letter for you,”

you thanked her and removed your robes, removing your hair from the hold of your hair tie. ruffling it, you sat on your bed, grabbing the red rose on top of it. tied around the flower was a folded piece of parchment, red roses, or rose perhaps, is an unmistakable expression of love. i am so hopelessly in love with you, y/n, and if you finally settled with going out with me, i’ll be in the courtyard waiting for you :-) -george

“are you going to go… or?” your roommate, whom you didn’t know was also reading the note asked, startling you.

“merlin, isa! give the girl a little warning next time,” you breathed out, “but yes, yes, i will,”

“i always knew you fancied weasley,” she smirked, “if you wanted some special treatment, you didn’t have to let him wait too long y'know? i could’ve done some sort of domestication for you,”

you laughed, “i’ll see you later, isa,”

the sun just set the moment you walked towards the courtyard, meaning the sky was dark but the prominent colors of red and yellow have yet to disappear.

george was sitting on a bench while waiting for you. he kept rereading the parchment of words that he wishes to tell you if you ever decide to come.

he immediately shoved the paper in his pocket when he noticed you sit beside him.

“hey, george,” you smiled, clasping your hands on your lap.

“y/n, you came,” he grinned, not believing that you would finally agree.

“well, ‘m here, aren’t i?” you chuckled, staring at the emerging stars.

“yeah, yeah,” george murmured, staring at you adoringly. for a moment he remembered the things he wanted to tell you. the parchment in his pocket felt heavier than it should be, but he ignored it and went with the flow instead, “uh, y/n?”

you hummed, turning your gaze to him.

“i- uh, look, there’s no pressure at all with the whole will you go out with me thing, alright? i’ll wait for a thousand years if i need to, i just need to know if you’re on board with this right now,” george spoke, smiling softly.

before you could even answer, a loud whistle interrupted you, followed by an explosion. george cursed from beside you, but you didn’t notice, because whistle after whistle, the fireworks thrown into the sky formed into words.

HOGSMEADE WOULD BE DAMNED TO HAVE A COUPLE LIKE US IN THEIR TOWN, GO OUT WITH ME?

george looked at you nervously as you let out a breath of bewilderment, “why would you do that?”

he fiddled with his fingers, agitation consuming him, “do you not like it?”

you shook your head, turning your body to face him, “no, i do, i do. it’s just- why would you do such a thing when i’ve been turning you down this whole time?”

george let out a breathy laugh, reaching out to hold your hand, “i could care any less if you reject me, y/n, i just want you to somehow know that you deserve the world and more.” he intertwined your hands, “blimey, i’ll go through hell and back to make sure that you know that.”

“mr. weasley!” the harsh voice of mcgonagall echoed from the hallways.

the both of you shared a look, but george immediately continued, “so, uh, if i may, would you fancy a date with me, y/n?”

you scoffed, “after all that, how could i say no?”

“mr. weasley!” mcgonagall’s heels trampled through the cobblestone floors.

“er, i mean i went all out, you know, and you might feel pressured by—”

you cut him off with a kiss. george’s eyes widened, it took him an embarrassing second to realize that he had to kiss back.

he wrapped his arms around your waist. your hands tangling in his fiery red hair, eliciting a groan from him. you pulled away, but resting your forehead against his. eyes closed but smiles being shared.

“i’ll go out with you, georgie,” you whispered. you opened your eyes and stared into his warm hazel eyes, “i’m sorry for taking so long,”

“mr. weasley,” professor mcgonagall chastised.

george looked up to the deputy headmistress, “oh, hello, minnie,”

mcgonagall’s face was stern, ignoring his cheeky acknowledgment, “as admirable your confession of love was, i have no choice but to give you a week’s worth of detention for your unnecessary need of disturbances,”

fred and a few other students peeked through their spots, “did she say yes?”

you looked at george and laughed at his expectant expression, “yes, of course,”

he kissed your cheek, just a few inches from the corner of your mouth. he doesn’t want to let you get detention as well.

“it’s a date then,” he winked at you, making you bury your face in your hands, a laugh escaping from your lips.

even mcgonagall can’t help but smile at the love-struck couple. maybe she might just take it easy with his detention.

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join my taglist !

[airplanned]

Trill AU Part 5

Such Drama!

***

Part 1

When the hail cut off, they both scrambled at their consoles, Zelda probably trying to get the deflector dish working, Link throwing together a couple of fail safes in case things went very--

They both turned at the sound of a transporter behind them, and Link stood, straightening his jacket and straightening his spine.  The three intruders who materialized on the bridge had absurdly large pulse cannons.  There was no way they needed those to incapacitate Link, Zelda, and a ship full of sleeping people.  They just wanted to look intimidating and ended up looking ridiculous.

"Welcome aboard," Link said.  "I'm Lt Link.  This is Lt Zelda.  My apologies that we're not proper hosts at the moment."

They punched Link in the face.

Zelda squeaked and grabbed him as he stumbled, keeping him on his feet.

He blinked to clear the stars that danced in his eyes.  The punch had loosened his sinus infection, and his first foolish thought was that Zelda was going to see his snot.

The Trill who was clearly their leader smirked at him, hefting his pulse cannon across his shoulder.  "I'm Admiral Kohga, and I'm claiming this salvage operation."

Link wasn't going to argue that their ship, which still had power and a crew of six hundred people could in no way be defined as a salvage operation.

He cut his eyes to Zelda over his shoulder, who gave a fractional shake to her head.  She hadn't heard of this guy either.

"Perhaps we can reach an agreement," Link said.

Kohga slung his pulse cannon down into Link's face.  "Perhaps I can kill you and take your warp core anyway."

Link held up his hands, swallowing down the fear that prickled the back of his throat, fighting with his tongue to keep the words coming.  "If you want the warp core, you can take it.  Just take it and leave."  They could get another.  They weren't too far out.  A rescue ship could be there in 48 hours, maybe even sooner.

Zelda's fingers bit into his arm, and he shot her another look to see her begging with her eyes, her teeth sunk deep in her lip.  She'd done extensive modifications to their warp core.  It was a prototype and maybe one of the most advanced models in the fleet.  He tried to convince her with just a widening of his eyes that they could get another, she’d only be set back a month, but her fingers bit harder into his arm to tell him that wasn't good enough.  

Did she not want to lose her life's work, or did she not want these people to have it?

It didn't matter.

In a rush, he said, "Computer lock: authorization Fi Alpha 284," and managed to get it all out before he was punched in the face again.

"What did you do!?  Unlock the computer!"

Link rubbed his jaw and glared at them.  "Get off my ship."

With a growl, a pulse cannon was aimed so close to his face that he had to lean back.  "Unlock it or I kill you," Kohga said.

"You kill me and you'll never get access."

The intruder narrowed his eyes.  Then he aimed his weapon at Zelda.  "Unlock it or I kill her.  Aren't Federation types like you supposed to do anything to protect each other?  You're a joined Trill.  You're not going to let me kill a symbiont, are you?"  He dropped the weapon from Zelda's face to her stomach.

Link swallowed.  "That's right.  I'm not going to let you hurt her.  Which is why the computer needs her authorization too."

"What?  You're lying."

Link jerked his head towards his console, inviting them to look.  Kohga glared at him and then jerked his head at the console too, ordering his lackey on the right to go check it out.

"He's right."

Kohga swore, turning away and stamping his feet.  Again and again.

Zelda's hand stroked his arm.  A sign of thanks.  An unconscious gesture of support from another lifetime.

When Kohga calmed down, he sighed dramatically and turned to give Link a suspicious look.  He pointed a finger, bobbing it as he thought.  "Authorization Fi.  Your name is Fi."

Welp.  He tried.

"I've heard of you."  Kohga took a step closer.  "Ha!"  He turned to his lackey.  "You know what this guy did?"  He wiggled his fingers.  "The taboo.  Reassociation!" He sounded almost giddy.  "This guy married another bonded Trill, and then what does his next host do?  Goes straight back and marries them again!"

"We didn't get married again," Link corrected.  Ravio didn't think it was necessary as they were still married in his heart (that sap).  Tetra liked saying they were living in sin.  Which was admittedly pretty funny, considering.

"This guy gives up everything and gets banished by the Symbiosis Commission, and then what happens?  They break up!  It's too funny."

Link shrugged.  It wasn't that funny. 

Kohga gestured around the bridge.  "Do they know?  Does she know?"

Zelda pulled her hands away, stepping back as if she was too shocked and disgusted to be near him.  As if she wasn't banished the same day he was.

Kohga gave her a sympathetic look so fake Link wondered how he thought anyone would buy it.  "Can you believe that?" he cooed.  "He sentenced his own symbiont to death.  He spit on our traditions. Everything we stand for!  Those traditions are there for a reason, you know.  Symbionts should live many different lives!  Not the same one over and over!  They shouldn't lock the host into a life they didn't choose.  That's cruel.  And then there's the memory seep. Doing the same things they’ve done in other lives over and over.  It messes up a host's brain until they don't know which host they are, what planet they're on, what day it is!  And then the symbiont takes over and the host doesn't even matter anymore. Just the symbiont. The whole power balance is disrupted!  You really want to throw your lot in with this guy?"

"I..."  

"If you unlock the computer, I'll take him off your hands for you."

She swallowed looking very small and fragile.  In a shaking voice, she said, "I can't let you have my warp core."

She was such a pro.

"Arrrrgggggh!"  Kohga clawed at his hair.  Then huffed a breath and turned back to Link in confusion.  "How do you get new hosts without going through the Symbiosis Committee?"

"Why? Do you want to join up?  You probably should.  I doubt they'll like it when they hear about your life of crime."

Kohga waved that away as if it didn't concern him in the least, which meant he either had no idea of the consequences that would rain down on him in his next life or he was putting on a show.  "You know...we're both outlaws," Kohga said, wheedling at him.  "Why don't you help me out?  Give me the warp core?  I'll split it with you.  50/50."

Link stared at him.  "No.  You see this is my ship.  And I don't feel like sharing."

Kohga's face wrinkled up in rage.  "Take them," he ordered.  "We'll just go rip the damn thing out!"

And with that, the intruders grabbed them by the arms, shoved them into the turbolift at gunpoint and dragged them down to the engine room, where they were pushed to the floor and watched by one of the lackeys while Kohga and the other Trill tried to override Link's lockout and did a lot of swearing and banging their fists against the console.

Zelda flinched with every bang.

He tapped all his fingertips against the floor.  What have you got?  Or in this case, Are you okay?

She took a deep breath, eyes on the fools messing with her engine.  She nodded, but made it look like she was rocking to soothe herself.

He fluttered his fingers in a soft wave--I’ve got nothing.

She responded by tapping the side of her hand against the floor as if neatening cards.  Two face cards. They could make something work if they played it right.  She had a plan.

What that plan was, she couldn't say in front of their guard, and instead demanded, "How the hell are you in Starfleet if you were banished?"

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, because that sounded a little bit like she was interested in his life.  "I'm an Orion citizen."

"What."

"There's a large Trill ex-pat community there.  I was born in part of the capital city called Terry Town that's 90% Trill.  We even had a bluefish deli and a Klonek festival."

She nodded.  "One time I visited Little Trill on Axanar."  

Anaxar. She'd made her way to Axanar.  He could see here there with all those evergreen trees stretching up to touch the sky.  He was strangely relieved that she'd found safe harbor.  

"They had the worst ralband pie I've ever tasted,” she said.

Link grinned and shook his head.  "I won't hear a word against my mother's abomination of a spice bread recipe."

Zelda snorted, something that might count as genuine humor.

"It was my favorite food growing up," he said.  "And then I was joined and learned what it tastes like if you have ingredients actually grown on Trill."

"And not freeze dried into submission."

"Or replicated.  The tang never has the right bite."

She caught his eye, and for a moment they just stared at each other.

She tapped the side of her hand again.  She had a plan.

Part 6

[fruitpunchninja101]

Flowers For You

After a small spat at the merchants assembly, Levi was determined to avoid Hange and her flower shop at all costs. Unfortunately, The funny thing about trying to avoid someone is that you have to have a rough approximation of their daily routine. And so, his quest began.

Written for LeviHan Eggschange 2021 @levihanweek​

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Hello my dear giftee! I’m sorry if your gift took a while! I hope you'd enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. Keep safe!♥

“Every plant can do this fundamental process, and we call this Photosynthesis.”

Cheery voices of kids boomed in celebration as soon as they finished singing.

Ever since summer break started, the flower shop in front of his store started a “Horticulture Camp” for little kids. At first, He didn’t really pay much attention to the cacophony of loud cheers and noises but as days passed, customers would leave little comments like “Sure does sound like a daycare in there.” or “Your neighbor sounds like they're having a lot of fun in there huh?”

The thought about confronting the owner of the flower shop did cross his mind, but there's a little problem, they had a little bit of a spat at the shop keeps assembly last month.

Okay, he'll admit it, maybe It's not just a spat, It's more like a full blown passive aggressive squabble. His memory of the event was a little hazy but he recalled raising his concern about the dried leaves that keeps blowing over his store. Something about her nonchalance about his concern and something about his word choice led to a disastrous mistranslation of what he really wanted to say which somehow escalated to a kerfuffle. "You and Hange will be the hot topic of the whole merchants block for a good while." Erwin warned him after the assembly. Tch! He certainly didn't need that kind of attention.

Since then, Levi kept his distance from that damn flower shop and focused on minding his own business. He is determined to avoid this Hange at all costs! Unfortunately, The funny thing about trying to avoid someone is that you have to have a rough approximation of their daily routine. And so, his quest began.

#

Hange's schedule was never consistent.

Sometimes she'd open her shop so late that her students would start rough housing by the sidewalk waiting for her arrival. Their parents would wait by her store too and they were seemingly too charmed by her to get annoyed about her tardiness. By the time she gets there the kids would immediately run towards her climbing on her limbs but she never seemed to mind. Those kids eyes would shine so bright at her , he’s pretty sure he’d go blind if he kept on staring at them.

She never seemed to eat lunch for some reason. Sometimes, the son of the deli owner at the corner of their street, Moblit , would come by to bring her food. There was a time when he thought the guy was courting her but he can tell by that sad longing stare he gives at her when he leaves her shop that Hange had no fucking clue about his intentions.

She never brings an umbrella even when it rains. She just runs across the street donning a hoodie. Which she would continue to wear all throughout the day. She’d definitely get sick if she doesn't dry herself up properly. If the rain is still pouring by the time she closes up her store, Hange would spend a good minute to stare at the night sky marveling at the little droplets like its the first time she ever saw one in her life. Nights like that , he would close up a little late to make sure she's gone before he leaves.

Observing her became a routine at this point.

During warm sunny days, she would wear a brightly colored shirt underneath her overalls. Unfortunately, the shirt seemed to be the only thing she changes regularly. He can tell it's the same overalls because it still has all the stains in the same place as the day before. Her best record was 5 days without washing the damned thing and he can't tell if that's impressive or disgusting.

When the kids aren't around, Hange would dote on her plants until late hours of the day. He'd watch her methodically arrange flowers and pour all her love and care to every bouquet she makes. All the while ignoring the fact that she haven't had food at all. ( He knows because Moblit recently got a girlfriend and since then , he only drops by the flower shop to pick up orders for his new love interest.) All he ever see her consume are cups of coffee and not even the good stuff. Just the regular instant kind from the grocery. Days like that , he hopes that she would at least stop by a convenience store to pick up something to eat.

It didn't take too long for him to consider that maybe Hange isn't an asshole at all.She's just one of those people who gets easily preoccupied with things that pique her interest is all. To hell with her health, appearance or even basic cleanliness. Its frustrating but at the same time its a relief to know that underneath all that nuttiness is a seemingly good person.

He was just closing up shop one night when he noticed her still sitting in her store as she practiced playing the Photosynthesis song on her guitar.She was surrounded by an array of beautiful flowers and in that dim light, he could've sworn she looked like a scruffy forest diety.

And it was at that point when he realized that a smile is creeping up his lip. What the fuck was that about?

As if hearing his thoughts, Hange's head perked up from her guitar and turned towards him. He froze as soon as their eyes met. She gave him a tight lipped smile and at that, Panic shot through him. He immediately turned away from her and rushed to turn off the lights and closed his store.

#

Days after that encounter, Levi had to resist the urge to spare even a peek over her shop. he didn't like that sometimes his mind would wander to images of her that night. He probably overdid his little investigation is all! He had to stop watching her schedule anyway , he had all the information he needs at this point.

However, her presence never seemed to leave him. He'd still overhear the rhythm of her guitar and the rambunctious laughter from her little campers. Even Eld and Gunther are starting to warm up to it. "There's something about the sound of children having fun that puts me at ease." He heard Eld reason out to Gunther the other day. Even Oluo who once mentioned his irritation with the constant singing is starting to absentmindedly hum the damn song.

He's ready to let the whole thing go but when a loud crashing sound (which is probably another pot broken by a child.) caused Petra to make a small uneven line on her work , he knew he had to do something. Even if these type of mistakes are easily fixed, precision is utterly important in his business and he can't have random nuisances ruining his reputation. He'll do it tomorrow. NO! He'll do it tonight! There's no use to delay the inevitable.

Odd enough, he did wonder if she even knew his name.

Tch.

#

Levi was just closing up his shop that night when he heard someone open the door. Accepting late night jobs Isnt new to him but he did commit to speaking with Hange about his concerns so he let out an absent minded “We're closed” warning before realizing who entered his shop.

It’s her.

She wore an oversized green overalls paired with battered up chucks that he bet was once white. Her brown mop of hair was tied messily up on her head. He didn’t miss the huge ass bouquet tucked in her arm as she struggled to get through his door.

“A little help?” She said, as if they didn’t had a spat that literally had them screaming at each other infront of other people. Levi paused cleaning his tattoo gun and hurried to help her. ”What are you doing here at this hour?” He asked genuinely out of curiosity than irritation.

”I just wanna give you these.” She beamed as she let go of the huge bunch for him to carry inside. “The kids got a little carried away with their flower arrangements today and I’d feel awful if I have to throw it out.” She continued.

“You think dumping this monstrosity to me is the solution?” He asked, immediately regretting his word choice.

“Monstrosity?!”Hange placed her hand on her chest playfully feigning mortification and shock.

He rolled his eyes at her and was a bit surprised that Hange chuckled at him and leisurely walked past him to take a seat at one of the stools by his register and started innocently looking around his shop seemingly waiting on him for a conversation. "Neat place you got here." She said.

"Thanks?" He said genuinely confused what she's doing here. Although, He did wonder if it has something to do with that awkward encounter they had the other night. He really hoped she already forgot about that. “What are these for?” He asked as he opened the cupboards hopelessly trying to look for a vase somewhere in his shop.

“I was gonna ask you for a favor.” She replied.

He scoffed. “what makes you think I’d help you.”

“It’s for a good cause! Plus,I was thinking it’s your opportunity to make up with that whole assembly incident we had.”

He paused and glared daggers at her. She still have that goofy smile on her face. “That dumb assembly incident was not something I want to make up with.” He said stubbornly.

Hange rolled her eyes at him. “Oh please you were angry over a few dried pieces of leaves in front of my store it’s hardly even your business.”

“Your leaves are blowing over my store front so yes it was my business.”

“You know I run a flower shop right? These things happen. I cant just wait outside my store and catch all the falling leaves for your convenience.” Her voice slightly raised as if she’s explaining something so obvious to him. Of course he knows these things happen, he’s not an idiot. All he wants is for her to take responsibility and not be so nonchalant over it.

“You don’t even...” He closed his mouth. She's starting to get a rise from him and it made him queasy. It's not even worth it. He closed his eyes to calm himself.

“Look, the favor isn’t even for me.” She started. Her tone of aggressiveness gone. ”Just hear me out please?” Her voice sounded gentle and warm this time. She’s so hot and cold it’s starting to drive him insane.

He opened his eyes and was met with her brown orbs that shone bright behind her dirty glasses. “Go ahead.” He said defeatedly avoiding her pleading eyes and proceeded to turn back to his cupboard. He should just let her say her piece and move on.

“It’s for one of my campers actually.”

“Hn.Which one? the brunette kid that shouts a lot?”

“Oh you know Eren?”

“He always sticks his snotty face up on my window how can I forget.”

“Yeah, That kid adores you you know , he asked about you and what you guys do here a couple of times before. He even threw fits because he wanted to get a tattoo from you.”

He scoffed. ”How is that my problem?”

”You see, his little friend Armin loved the camp but is a little too shy for his own good. He won’t attend sessions without Eren who sort of refused to attend til you tattoo something on him.”

“So you want me to tattoo a child? ”He turned from his fruitless quest for a vase on his cupboard to raise a brow at her.

“Not a real one, just one of those temporary tattoo stickers.”

He scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. It would be easier to complain to her about the noise of she owed him some sort of favor. Right? "Alright." He said.

She surged out of her seat and gave out a small yelp startling him. "You'd do it? Really?" Her eyes seemed brighter now.

“Yeah sure." He said as he marveled at how expressive her eyes were. He willed himself to tear his eyes from her damn face. "Is there anything else?” He asked.

“Yes.” She replied enthusiastically.

“You are really pushing your luck here four eyes.”

She chuckled at that and pushed her glasses a bit higher up her nose. ”Don't worry, this one isn't a favor. More like a friendly advice."

He raised a brow at her. "What?"

"Put those in cold water. They'd last longer that way.” She said pointing at the bright colored bouquet at the table which certainly looked out of place against the black and gray interior of his shop.

After exchanging details about their little activity tomorrow, Hange gave him a final enthusiastic wave before taking off his shop leaving him in awe.

Ah. He forgot to mention his noise complaint.

#

The next day, nine little children were lined up orderly marching up infront of his store led by Hange. She carried a red flag to remind everyone where she is at all times. They all wore a silk screen printed shirt that says plants rule in front and some sort of a plant pun at the back.

Hange's shirt says. 'Someone has been adding soil to my garden. The plot thickens.'

Ah. That was pretty good...and also pretty dumb.

“Are you sure about this boss?” Oluo asked as he worked on a cover up on a customers shoulder.

"No." He answered earing a chuckle from Eld, Gunther and Petra at the back.

"Good Morning Underground Ink!" Hange enthusiastically cheered as she opened the door.

"Keep your voice down four eyes!"

“Oh! Sorry!" She mouthed at him before turning back to her campers. "Kids say good morning to Mr.Ackerman!” She beamed.

“Goodmorning Mister Ackerman!” The kids said in unison in a sing song tune. He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement then proceeded to cut out the temporary tattoo sheet into small pieces. The kids immediately scattered around the store to take a look at the reference books laid on his lounge. He glowered at Hange. "You said they'd behave."

"They would I promise! They're just a bit excited with our little expedition."

"If they break anything, I swear you're gonna pay ten times the price."

"Oh don't be such a grump!" She said slapping his arm. "Ouch! You didn't tell me you work out."

"Tch." He clenched his jaw and focused his eyes on the tattoo sheets he's cutting up. Damn four eyes and her mouth.

"Hey Kids! Gather over here Mr.Ackerman will show you how to put on a tattoo."

“Is this gonna hurt?” Eren innocently asked.

“Not if you’re brave.” He answered. The kid involuntarily recoiled at that. He can tell that Eren's starting to have second thoughts and struggled to put on a brave face. Eren immediately sought out Hange seemingly asking for help and at that, she immediately stepped up and ruffled the kids hair. ”I’ll get my tattoo done first.” Hange hopped on a chair and presented her wrist to Levi.

Levi held her hand to keep her arm steady. His eyes darted at her as if asking her if the touch was permitted and he was met with a sweet smile. He immediately avoided her eyes pushing down the thought of her playing her guitar surrounded by flowers...a scruffy forest diety. he recalled the exact words that formed on his mind that night.

He bit the inside of his cheek to ground himself to reality. Levi held the damp towel against her wrist and she let out a little yelp. He immediately pulled away hoping he didn't press too hard while his mind wandered to silly memories of her the other night. "Gotcha!" Hange teased chuckling at him. "Ass!" he said playfully throwing his towel at her face gaining another laugh from the brunette. The kids huddled around them giggled at them.

"Ms.Hange, What's an ass?" A little girl munching potato chips asked.

"It's another term for a donkey." A small timid blonde kid answered.

"Thats right Armin!Very good!" Hange said. The blonde kid blushed at her praise and glued his eyes on the floor.

"What's a donkey?" Potato chip girl asked again.

"It's like a little horse" Armin answered.

"Why are you calling Ms.Hange a donkey Mr.Ackerman? She doesn't even look like a horse" A kid with shaved head asked.

"...unlike Jean over here." Eren added and a kid with elvish features (which he assumed is Jean) stepped up and hit Eren by the arm. Eren was ready to retaliate when Hange spoke.

"Kids, we promised Mr.Ackerman no rough housing inside the store." Hange reminded them calmly and the kids immediately pulled away from one another.

There was a brief moment of silence and wondering gasps from children around them as he worked on Hange's tattoo.“So does anyone have a question to Mister Ackerman.” He immediately frowned. He said yes to tattooing kids not chatting them up. Nothing would have prepared him for the set of questions that came rushing in after Hange's open invite.

#

Eren is the last one to get his tattoo. He disinfected his arm with alcohol and his eyes drifted to Hange who was blushing at the sight of a kid adorably putting on a brave face.

Levi had to look away.

At the end of the session,all kids merrily walked back to her shop comparing all their little tattoos. Hange then thanked him for playing along with her little activity.

#

His whole afternoon was a blur. Between those kids who won't stop asking him and Hange's constant teasing smirks he was out of it. He scrubbed the side of his tattoo gun a little harder.

“I see you put my flowers in a bucket.”

Levi almost dropped his tattoo gun as Hange's merry voice boomed around the shop.

“Its the closest thing I have to a vase.” He said wondering if she’s offended that he chucked her precious flowers on a bucket, but that endearing smile she had on her face says otherwise.

“I had just the thing!” She rushed out of his shop and came back with a huge crystal vase.

“What's that?”

“Its a vase I inherited from my gram-gram.”

“I can see its a vase.”

“Well with the horticulture camp and all I'm scared this would get knocked over and you seem like an organized responsible sort of guy. Maybe you can take care of this for me for a while.”

She’s certainly getting a little too comfortable with favors now. ”What makes you think I wouldn’t knock it over to get back on you for that assembly mess.”

“Because you’re nicer than your letting on.” she says as she procured a small rose from her back pocket and gently tucked its stem behind his ear. He compelled his hand to swat her arm way but his body didn't cooperate. He stood there frozen wondering if she truly was some sort of a scruffy forest deity and she's punishing him from his insolence at that assembly.

Okay, that sounded dumb...What the hell is wrong with him?

"Did the kids asked you to give me this?" He forced himself to reply.

"Nah, That one is from me." She said. Her eyes were bright and her face were slightly flushed. He wondered if he'd never seen anyone look this gallant and handsome before.

"You don't like it?" She asked cocking her head to the side.

"No! I-ah...I'm just..." He stuttered trying to find the right words without sounding pathetic. His hand raised to touch the flower on his ear. He never got flowers before. He felt a smile coming up so he forced a frown.

“Why are you frowning? Don't tell me you're still upset about that assembly thing? I thought were past that?”

“Tch! No were not!” Levi recoiled at how loud his reply was.

”You see, I would be threatened but I just watched you spend your afternoon tattooing a bunch of kids even though you are not paid for it so...Yeah...I guess water under the bridge right?”

“Who says I'm not charging you? I thought you came here to pay up.” He smirked finding calm at her retort.

At that, Hanji laughed. She fucking laughed! The woman even clutched her arms around her stomach and doubled over. She practically radiated with warmth and a familiar sense of home. “Alright you got me, I don’t want to owe you anything so how about a cup of coffee sometime? Although, you seemed to prefer tea”

He scrunched his face. "How do you know I prefer tea?"

"You see, the funny thing about a huge glass storefront window is that, if you can see me, that means I can see you too."

”Wh-What are you on about? I don't...” Fuck! She knows. He internally panicked and wondered what would the appropriate response be.

"Oh calm down! Don't worry, I don't mind you ogling at me." She smirked evidently teasing him.

"Tch. Fuck you four eyes!"

"I wouldn't mind that too." He froze and It didn't take her too long to realize what she said. Her face immediately flushed in a very flattering shade of red. "I'm sorry I got carried away." Hange slightly turned away and tucked a little piece of her hair behind her ear.

He wanted to say something...flirty maybe? But chances are he's gonna run his mouth and say something about him thinking that she was a scruffy forest deity or how he hates that she never opens her store on time or how he knows her best record for not changing jumpsuits is 5 days. So he kept his mouth shut and let silence engulf them.

“Well, I’m next door just in case you wanna take me up for tea. I’ll see you around I guess.”

"Wait!" He called out.

Hange whipped her head to turn to him and he rushed behind the register to grab one of his spare umbrellas he keeps for emergencies. "Take this."

"What for?" She asked scratching the back of her head.

"You'd get sick running around in rain." he said plainly, hoping she didn't find him too creepy.

Levi didn't know it was possible but he swore her eyes shone a little brighter, a small smile is now etched on her face. "See you later Levi." She took one last glance at him lifting an arm to wave as she ran back to her store.

“Later, four eyes.” He whispered beneath his breath and although he felt pleasantly sunny inside, he sensed that he forgot about something...

Ah, he forgot to talk to her about his noise complaint.

[whumpiary]

the future.

content warning: infidelity, romantic partner conflict, emotional shutdown

-

A stranger answers the door to their apartment. 

The guy’s at least as tall as he is, messy auburn curls and a tight cropped beard, deep blue eyes with just the starts of premature crows feet. The stranger jerks backwards, clearly startled to find Josiah in the doorway with his key in one hand and groceries in the other. 

“Oh. Sorry, man,” he says, running on the breath of an apologetic laugh. He’s calm and unbothered. Josiah blinks, baffled. The stranger in his house, the intruder answering the door, is calm and unbothered. “Nearly bashed heads there.”

Josiah blinks again. 

He looks the stranger over, so comfortable in the doorway of his home. There’s no high-vis shirt matching his own, no tool box, no dirty boots or plaster-spattered khakis suggesting this is just a tradie or a handy-man. As though they would have a handy-man. As though Josiah doesn’t already fix everything for them himself anyway.

Over the stranger’s shoulder, back a ways, Cass is hovering in the door of their bedroom. Half lit in gold by the late afternoon sun coming through the bedroom window Half dressed in tracksuit pants, the t-shirt he usually sleeps in clutched in a fist. His face is blank and unreadable. He doesn’t meet Josiah’s eye beyond a tiny, flickering glance. 

Josiah feels his heart slow. And slow. Then stop, flip, sink. He knows what this is. 

“You must be Cass’ housemate.”

Josiah’s eyes flick back to the stranger. 

Housemate. 

Funny how a single word could feel exactly like a punch to the gut. 

“Jonah,” the stranger says, extending out a hand. Josiah stares at it, frowning deeper. What the fuck is he meant to do with that? The hand retracts again. “Oh-kay… Not a hand shaker, then.”

As though Josiah is the one here who’s gravely misstepping. His world is hurtling and hurtling. And this stranger wants Josiah to shake his hand. Josiah stares at his face. Over the man’s shoulder, Cass puts his t-shirt back on. 

“Well, I was just leaving. Sorry to… interrupt your day I guess.” The stranger looks back over his shoulder at Cass, raises his fingers in a lazy wave with a half-cocked grin. “See you.”

Cass lifts his chin in a half-nod of acknowledgment but still keeps his eyes dropped low. Josiah wonders if this stranger knows what that expression means. If he cares. If he knows how to help Cass start making eye contact again. If he feels a surge of pride when he does.

The stranger steps past him awkwardly and out into the hall. Their shoulders graze as he passes. If the stranger’s arm burns like his does at the touch, he doesn’t show it. To Josiah it feels like the flesh is rotting from the bone.

Josiah steps over the threshold. The door clicks shut behind him. Jail cell. The place feels different. The air feels thick. Everything is too still and too full and too empty. 

Cass is still in the bedroom doorway. The sheets on the bed behind him are mussed, doona kicked off to the side, pillows crooked. They’d put those sheets on the bed together, lifting the corners of the mattress to tuck the tight at the bottom.

Cass crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders raised up and protective, and leans against the doorframe. He clears his throat, draws his toe over the line of the carpet. “You’re home early.”

Josiah looks at him. He looks at him hard. He’s never been good at playing pretend.

“No,” he says. “I’m not.”

Cass’ eyes run the length of the skirting board. He brings his hand up to rub his palm over his upper-arm, like warming himself in the cold.  Josiah just stands there, stupid. 

Cass points with a thumb to the groceries still clutched in Josiah’s hand. 

“What’s in the bag?” 

“Koupepia. From the deli.”

“To have with the leftovers?”

Josiah shrugs. Was meant to be. “Yeah. Got some loukoumades too”

Cass nods slowly, staring a little into space, chewing on his cheek. Cass likes the loukoumades. Seems to prefer it when Josiah home makes them. He hasn’t had time to do that much recently, though. 

The silence through the apartment is loud and heavy. It rings in Josiah’s ears in chorus with the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the buzz of the fluorescents in the hallway, the bass-note rumble of an engine starting up on the street. 

Cass breathes in deep through his nose and then out again, looking down at his feet, jaw set. Josiah just starts staring. 

He could close his eyes this once.

He could… they could move past this. If there was an explanation. Or even if there wasn’t. Josiah could turn his head. Pretend like he doesn’t know. Didn’t see. Put on the blinders and make like he’s ignorant.

Cass breathes in again. Then out. He stops and starts a couple times before speaking. “I feel like you’re waiting for me to say something.”

Josiah shrugs again, at a loss. Even that seems to have an echo. “Feel like you’re waiting for me to ask.”

The silence settles in again fast. Oppressive. Suffocating. Beating with its own pulse like a monster intent on eating them both. 

Josiah can’t take his eyes from Cass. From the space around him. The air seems heavier there, seems to shimmer with every micro movement. Dust motes float through the sunlight around Cass’ face and his hair is pushed up at the back like-

Josiah breathes in sharp and closes his eyes, He can feel his hands curling into fists like maybe if he did it well enough he could hold things in place, one tight around the handle of the deli bag. 

He could look away. Put the blinkers on. Breathe through it and go figure out dinner and they could just… move past this. Move through it. 

He opens his eyes again, looks at his partner. His partner who is still diligently staring at the floor, curling and uncurling his toes.

He could look away. It would be easier that way. He’s done it before. He can do it now too.

He doesn’t want to. 

“You knew what time I was going to be home.” It’s not an accusation. Just a statement of fact. A laying out of the problem. Cass doesn’t answer. Hardly even acknowledges that he’s spoken, staring at the carpet with the blank and pissed off glare. “Were you wanting me to find out?”

Cass doesn’t answer. He tilts his chin to his shoulder and scratches it along the shoulder seam of his shirt while staring into space. 

“I don’t… understand, Cass. Have I- Did I do something wrong?”

Cass doesn’t answer. 

“Is this a punishment or something?”

Cass doesn’t answer.

“Is this-” Josiah stops and takes a deep, stuttering breath in. He doesn’t want to answer the next question. He doesn’t exhale to ask it. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t wanna be with me?”

Cass doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even look up. 

Josiah feels the whole world tilting. Like suddenly the floor is slanted. Like everythings sliding to the left and down off a cliff. The groceries are still clutched tight in his hand. 

“Okay, I need to-” he’s cut off by his body sucking in a sharp breath he wasn’t ready for and his eyes slam shut again. He feels his hand raising to rub at the back of his neck. He stops it before the urge can grip him properly, pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes through the roil instead. 

It takes him a minute. But he gets the words out. Cass still doesn’t move. “I have to get some air.”

Josiah walks the few steps to the kitchen bench, puts the deli bag down beside the fruit bowl. He catches his own hand again, from drifting up to his neck.

“The koupepia are fine cold but the um,” he blinks, shakes his head clear, vision going a little hazy. He needs to get some air. “You’ll want to, um. The lamb. In the fridge. Give it twenty in the oven.”

The carpet is a lake. The words fall from his mouth like heavy stones and he just hopes the ripples from the drop make their way to Cassius. 

He makes it to the door.

He manages to open it.

He pauses, miles and worlds and galaxies away from the person he loves. Ten feet from the very still body of Cassius.

He doesn’t look back at him, just lets the words ripple. Quiet and earnest.

“Please be here when I get back.”

The silence between them follows him out the door, out the hallway, down to the street.

It follows him with the setting of the sun.

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips. 

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him. 

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal." 

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days. 

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most. 

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner. 

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses. 

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

 Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

[yeojaa]

up all night.

inspiration:  “i'm sorry I keep staring, but you're really the hottest thing i've ever seen in my entire life and i don't know what to do about it.”

i’ve never written for joon before so please don’t burn me at the stake! 🥺 this is dedicated to @sahmfanficbts and ty mucho to @salvejoon​ and @moonmintrails​ for reading through this for me 💖 part two will be forthcoming!  

pairing.  knj x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  mc is a recreational drug user (nothing hard!  just gummies!) and there’s mentions of like, boning and booze.  but generally, just a warm n soft fluff piece.  wc.  1.1k.

The neighbourhood bodega is your happy place.  

It’s where you go when you’ve had a long day at the office and want to drown yourself in six different types of Ben & Jerry’s, the likes of which it always has in stock and in all the flavours you want (Cherry Garcia, Half Baked, Peanut Butter Cup).  It’s where you go when you’re too lazy to make dinner and want to inhale a perfectly made, smooshed down deli sandwich piled high with all your favourite accoutrements.  It’s where you’ve cried quietly, standing in the snack section after a terrible breakup.  It’s also where you’ve, perhaps, spent too much money on beer after an impromptu decision to wake up with a pounding headache.

It’s somewhere that’s seen you grow up, from your shitty pre-teen days - when you’d had that godawful fringe and those ugly sneakers your parents had bought from the Super A Mart in Chinatown - all the way to now, with your slightly cuter shoes and significantly better hair.  It’s watched you grow as much as your family has, a figurative presence in your life that’s shaped you through the years.

It knew when your time of the month was and how much chocolate you ate when it came around.  It knew the sheepish way you’d scuff your toes when you were buying things you shouldn’t:  beer using a remarkably bad fake ID when you were fifteen, cigarettes during a brief stint during your first year of university, and condoms when all of your friends had started fucking like rabbits and you didn’t want to be left out.

All of that to say, your neighbourhood bodega knows you well and with that comes the uneasy acceptance that someone else - someone with a heartbeat and a brain and big imposing shoulders - knows you just as well, if not better.

Kim Namjoon.  Son of Mr. and Mrs. Kim, card-carrying pantydropper, and the guy you’d harboured a crush on for the better half of your adolescent years.

You weren’t really sure when it’d happened - just that it’d followed you from the tender age of thirteen when you’d first gotten flustered over his big dimpled cheeks and slow, tight-lipped smile.  It didn’t matter that he was four years older than you - now an astounding twenty-eight - or that he’d witnessed you embarrass yourself since you were old enough to stick your own foot in your mouth.  You simply couldn’t help it.

He was cute in a way that snuck up on you, that you didn’t need reminding of but that presented itself at the strangest times.  

Like when you’d be half-baked and stocking up on munchies, dressed in running shorts and an oversized tee shirt because you were too lazy to change into anything else.  He’d flash that goddamn smile of his as he rang you up, biting back laughter when he’d scan the fifth bag of Goldfish.

Or when he’d catch you huffing and puffing at absurd times, lungs heaving from having jogged all the way from Crown Heights station.  He never had to ask what you needed - would only silently pop the locked door back open and let you in to get whatever you seemed so desperate for.

You knew they weren’t the best impressions - little facets of your wayward personality presented like a whirling dervish - so you’d never thought more of it.  

After all, he was Kim Namjoon and you’d heard about all the ways he broke hearts.  Never on purpose, fortunately, but with increasing frequency since you’d started running in the (surprisingly) same circles.  He was as unattainable as the specialty imported chocolate on the top shelf of his parents’ bodega - always enticing but terribly out of reach.

Which is why you’re gaping at him now, a not-very attractive fish out of water.  

“What?”  You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that you’ve got one AirPod lodged in your ear, but you don’t trust what you’ve just heard.  It makes zero sense, like 400-level mathematical equations.  You were a political science major, for crying out loud.

When Namjoon responds - in that confident, measured way of his - you have to focus hard on the words.  “I asked if you wanted to get drinks with me.”  

Drinks.  With him.  With Kim Namjoon.  The Kim Namjoon.

You feel like your brain’s short circuiting and not just because of the THC gummy you’d taken right after work.

“You… want to get drinks?  With me?”  You know you must sound a little stupid - though you swear you’re not and you think, despite all signs pointing to it, Namjoon doesn’t believe so either.

He laughs as he bags up your purchases:  candied almonds, a bag of sour Skittles, chocolate milk, and three things of chips.  The sound keeps you occupied, wholly focused on the way it echoes out of that big cavernous chest of his and battles the lofi that’s playing in your ear.  You wonder how someone can be so effortlessly charming.  

It probably has something to do with your crush.

“Is that so hard to believe?”  He spares you the sympathy, instead offering a playfulness you’ve never seen up close and personal.  It feels nice - sun-warm and organic, like spending a day at the park.  

You decide in that moment - in your oversized boyfriend jeans and big sunglasses pushed up in your hair, with your absurd amount of goodies resting on the counter between you - that you want more of it.  You want more of Kim Namjoon, even if you’re unravelling his mysteries as you go.

“I guess not.”  

“So, drinks tonight then.  10 PM.  I’ll meet you at your place.”  There are no further questions - just statements that pop off his tongue and sink comfortably beneath your skin.  It feels good, if not a little strange.  You’re still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this is happening.

Your lips move before you have a chance to stop them, words tumbling out in a haste you attribute to your high but that seem more like nerves.  You hate that it makes you sound so uncertain because you know you’re funny and you sure as hell know you’re cute, but it feels like you’re a little leaguer facing off against Jose Canseco.  “Can I ask why?”

He shrugs - an impressive roll of his shoulders beneath the plain white cotton that hugs him in all the right places and makes his skin glow honey gold against it.  “You're really just the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life and I know I’ll hate myself if I don’t do something about it.”

You thank your lucky stars for the Kim’s bodega then.  You promise you’ll never visit another one for the rest of your life.

[chokemeanakin]

Anakin and a super giggly reader? Like laughing gas giggly? Or if youre wanting fun times request, him seeing reader jealous of the way girls look at him and Ani showing her he only had eyes for her?

I did both :) Hope you enjoy <3

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Anakin with a giggly reader headcanons (gn)

Normally you’re not this giggly. Don’t get me wrong, you love to laugh and have a good time, but something is off about you today. Anakin notices right away.

He walks into your apartment to bring you some lunch to find you poking at R2, who beeps in annoyance while you laugh at him. He rolls around you, poking you back with his metal utility arm which only sends you into more fits of laughter. You chase him around and try to hug him but he wheels away from you as fast as you can.

Anakin watches you for a moment, a smile on his lips before he realizes how weird you’re acting.

”Y/n?” you turn when he calls your name and your face lights up once again. You run towards him and take the food and when you see he’s brought you your favorite drink, you fall backward onto the couch and start sipping it, a content smile on your face. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

You finish about half of the drink before you decide to answer. “Obi-Wan gave me like 6 pills for my headache. I feel great!”

”He gave you how many pills?”

Anakin has to stop himself from turning around and hunting Obi-Wan down. Shouldn’t he of all people know how to dose someone correctly? And why didn’t he at least stay with you to supervise you if he knew he messed up?

”Stop pouting,” you giggled and poked his cheek. “It’s not really his fault. He was in a rush somewhere so he left R2 with me. R2 where’d you go?”

He beeped warily from the corner.

Anakin got you to tell him which pills exactly Obi-Wan gave you, and figured out that you were only supposed to get 2 pills at the most. Thank god they weren’t lethal, and side-effects of over dosing were… he guessed it… extreme euphoria.

He releases R2 from babysitting duties and takes over. He wrangles you to the couch where he hopes you can watch a show on the tv until the pills work its way through your system, but everything the screen flashes hurls you into fits of ab-aching laughter. 

You end up in tears, rolling around on the ground, and even Anakin can’t help but smile and shake his head at your ridiculous state. He turns the tv off when you plop onto him and refuse to get off, just playing with his hair and running your fingers over the planes of his face.

Your face gets serious, and then suddenly breaks out into a huge grin, over and over like a cycle. You laugh, but won’t tell him what’s so funny.

He knows you’re not in the right state of mind, but he thinks you’re beautiful when you smile and takes full advantage of the opportunity to stare at it shamelessly. 

Then the second side-effect of overdosing takes place, and you pass out cold right on top of him. 

Anakin Skywalker x Jealous/Insecure Reader (fem)

You had no issue with keeping your and Anakin’s relationship a secret. You weren’t going to stand in the way of his Jedi career, and honestly sneaking around had a bit of a thrill to it. It was only moments like this when you hated not being about to claim Anakin as yours in front of the entire world.

You were taking a break from your tasks of the day and sat on a bench in the garden, eating your lunch as you watched Anakin and Obi-Wan train before you. It was hot out, so the boys had taken their shirts off long ago-- not that you were complaining. 

You tried to observe Anakin as innocently as possible-- the way his muscles moved as he swung his lightsaber, how his hair stuck to his forehead, and beads of sweat dripped down his chest. He was literally glowing in the sunlight. Your heart swelled at the sight of him.

This beautiful man… and he was all yours.

It was then that you heard the giggling. You turned your head to see through the bushes. Senator Padme Amidala was leading a group of three of her friends-- handmaidens, from back when she was Queen-- through the gardens. They had stopped just outside the clearing you were in and were watching, pointing, and giggling at the two boys training. They hadn’t seemed to notice you yet.

Padme walked casually into the clearing, and your heart sunk as the three girls followed behind. They were all beautiful. Not just Padme, with her chocolate brown eyes, endless curls, and soft face. But the girls behind her were all tall, slim, and jaw-droppingly lovely. All four of them seemed to radiate like angels under the afternoon sun.

“Good evening, General Skywalker. Master Kenobi,” Padme greeted with a sweet smile. You knew Padme was an old flame of Anakin’s, but it never really bothered you. He always assured you it was just a little childhood crush, nothing more, and you trusted him. But something about her was making your blood boil now.

“Senator,” Anakin bowed his head in greeting, deactivating his saber. He bent to retrieve his shirt from the ground and wiped the sweat away from his face, giving the girls a full show of his glistening muscles in the process. “What brings you out here?”

“My friends from Naboo are visiting and I thought I’d show them around the gardens. Then I saw you two training and thought I might introduce them to two of the finest Jedi in the galaxy.”

The girls’ laughter tinkled like bells in the air, and Padme kept that same sugary-grin plastered on her face. 

Padme is a friend, you had to remind yourself. She means no harm.

She stepped aside and gestured to the girls, introducing them as Samé, Moté, and Rowé. They each bowed in turn, long curtains of hair almost brushing the ground, and returning to a standing position with equally gorgeous, shy smiles.

Anakin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow playfully. “I don’t know if we’re the two ‘finest’ Jedi in the galaxy, but your input is appreciated. It’s a pleasure to meet you three.”

This made the girls erupt in another fit of giggles. You wanted to gouge your eyes out.

“Well,” he looked from you to Obi-Wan, not really knowing what to do next. Yet, always the charmer, he offered, “Obi-Wan and I are still in the midst of training, if you would like to stay for a bit. You can sit on the bench with Y/n over there. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing.”

You wanted to crawl into a hole when he pointed you out. All eyes were on you, and you forced your scowl into a pained smile.

“Sure,” you forced a kind tone, scooching over to give them all a place to sit. They all glided over to you, their dresses floating behind them in the breeze.

As soon as Padme sat next to you, you were enveloped in the scent of daisies and vanilla. You wanted to cry. Why did they all get to be so beautiful and smell good?

“Hello Y/n,” Padme greeted with that same sweet smile. Her eyes looked golden in the sunlight. “Are you eating lunch?”

Suddenly, being surrounded by girls who were far taller and toned than you were made your stomach stop grumbling. You put the sandwich that you had been gripping too hard back into your bag, and kicked it under the bench.

“I was just finishing,” you told her.

She nodded, kind face still trained on you as the other girls’ attention was solely focused on the two dueling men before you.

“I’m sorry about barging in… I didn’t mean to intrude. My friends have never met a Jedi before, and when I told them about Anakin and Obi-Wan they were so excited to meet them.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” you folded your hands in your lap, nails digging into the skin of your palms. “You weren’t interrupting anything. And I’m sure Anakin and Obi-Wan would love to show off a little bit.”

“Of course they would. They won’t admit it, but they both have a bit of an ego... as I’m sure you already know,” Padme laughed lightly, her smile blinding you. Then she turned her attention to the Jedi. 

The five of you watched them train for a while. Samé, Moté, and Rowé oohed and ahhed at different times, gasping when the fighting got intense, and crossing and uncrossing their legs. You managed to quell the anger burning in your chest during this time, reminding yourself of how childish you were being. So what a couple of beautiful women were practically drooling over your boyfriend? It’s not like Anakin was even acknowledging them.

You couldn’t help but listen in on their conversations though. It started with a “He’s very cute, don’t you think?” and continued on to “Look at his muscles,” “Look how fit,” “That is one gorgeous man Padme, how have you never thought about courting him?”

“Ladies,” Padme gently quieted their giggling. “Jedi cannot form attachments. You can observe all you want, but acting on any attraction would be disrespectful.”

You could just about kiss Padme.

But the comments didn’t stop. They kept talking about him-- his eyes, his hair, his mouth. His power, physique, strength, everything. It went on and on.

“What about Obi-Wan?” you spoke up. The girls quieted, and surveyed, and the middle girl spoke. 

“He’s also very nice,” she admitted. “I’d take either of them, honestly, but my first choice would have to be the Skywalker guy.”

Your blood started to spike again. They’re not deli meats, you wanted to snap. You can’t own them.

Your jealousy was hypocritical. You knew this. That’s why you stayed rooted to the spot, not a peep coming out of your mouth. 

It was only when the girls began shouting requests-- “Anakin, twirl your lightsaber behind your back again! Anakin do a backflip! Anakin, float me that flower with the force!”-- that you had had enough. 

He had obliged to their requests. Of course he did. He was a gentleman, after all, and ignoring them would have been rude. But watching that rose-- your favorite flower-- fly through the air and gently tuck into Rowé’s silky smooth hair had you shooting to your feet, grabbing your bag from under the bench, and muttering an excuse to leave to Padme. You were out of the gardens before anyone could question you.

You stormed into your apartment, clenching and unclenching your fists as you paced.

It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, you chanted in your head. 

You stopped your pacing when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You stared at yourself, unable to stop comparing yourself to the girls in the garden. 

It’s not that you weren’t pretty. You thought you were… at least before today. But you had never been the most confident in your looks to begin with, and seeing those girls interact with Anakin today felt like a punch in the gut.

He could do so much better.

You weren’t as thin as them, you didn’t wear flowy dresses, or float on elegant footsteps, or have miles and miles of silky smooth hair. You suddenly felt too big, too ugly, too disgusting. 

All the confidence you had worked up in order to be with Anakin… gone.

Suddenly, the door to your apartment opened. You quickly wiped away the tear that had escaped from your eye and turned away from the mirror, heading to the bookshelf to look busy.

“Y/n?” Anakin asked, peering around the corner for you. You kept your back turned, trying to stop the sudden onslaught of tears as you pretended to organize the bookshelf. “You’re upset. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not--” oh, what was the use? Of course he could tell you were crying. It was that damn force perception of his that made it virtually impossible for you to hide any kind of emotion from him. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he pressed, walking up behind you. Carefully, he put a hand on your shoulder. “You can talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s hurting you, it’s not stupid.”

“I’m being immature. I just need to get over it.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment. “Is this about Padme’s friends?”

You squeezed your eyes closed, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Anakin spun you around to face him, but you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“I don’t know why you even like me,” you whispered thickly, tears still choking you up. “I’m disgusting compared to them.”

The words burned your tongue as they left your mouth. You had never been so open about your insecurities with Anakin, not like this at least. You had always put on a brave face before him, tried to exude confidence. He said he liked that about you. But now… he was really seeing you at your worst. And you were fully prepared for his feelings to change due to it.

“Y/n,” Anakin said. His voice was clipped, angry. “Y/n, look at me.”

He took your chin in his hand and forced your face up. You dropped your hands from your face, but kept your eyes cast downward shamefully. You could not bear to look him in his beautiful, angry face or you were pretty sure you would lose it altogether.

Instead of snapping at you, which you were preparing for, you felt the ghost of Anakin’s lips trace the skin of your jaw. He pressed a kiss beneath your ear, then the side of your neck, then the junction between your neck and shoulder. He made his way back up, leaving gentle, scalding kisses all over your face and neck. He kissed away a tear that had escaped, swiping another dry with his thumb. He kissed you until you felt okay enough to look him in the eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he grinned. Perfect. Gorgeous. Totally out of your league.

He held your face between both of his hands so you could not escape the intensity of his gaze. His eyes bore into you like lasers, stripping you completely bare. With your incredibly low self-esteem, he very well might as well have.

“Stop,” you muttered. You didn’t want to hear him try to build your confidence back up. There was no going back after the images of those beautiful girls plagued your mind from today.

Anakin pursed his lips and sighed. “Baby,” he smoothed his hand over your hair soothingly, eyes following his movements. “You don’t see what I see.”

“I don’t need to,” you argued. “Not when there’s people like them walking around.”

“But they’re not you,” Anakin’s voice was fierce. “There are so many beautiful people walking around in this galaxy, billions probably, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. But I am attracted to you, Y/n. I love you. And no one else.”

“Why, though?” you couldn’t help but ask. The memory of the flower tucking itself into Rowé’s hair came flashing back into your mind. Her glittering smile. The fluttering eyelashes. The rosy blush painting her cheeks.

Anakin released your face and grabbed your hand instead. “Come here,” he ordered, leading you to the mirror you had been looking at. He positioned you in front of him and stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and chin resting on your shoulder. A king draped over a peasant. 

“Let me tell you what I see,” his deep voice murmured in your ear. He started with your arms, running his hands lightly from your shoulders, dipping into the curves of your elbows, tracing a line down your forearm, and entwining his fingers with yours. “These are beautiful,” his eyes were focused on your reflection. 

He brought his hands back up, then began trailing them down your sides, holding your waist between his large hands and pressing his palms flat against your stomach. “This is beautiful.”

His hands made their way down to your hips, where you had to stop yourself from squirming. You were ticklish there. His hands fit perfectly over your curves, and he breathed, “This is beautiful.”

He got on his knees suddenly, shifting so that he was in front of you. Your face was on fire as his hands continued their journey down, over the tops of your thighs, to your knees, fitting over your calves and holding your ankles. “These are beautiful,” he looked up at you. 

He got up, and caught your chin in his hand again. “And this,” he whispered, breath fanning over your lips. He raked his eyes up and down your face, shamelessly admiring it. “This is the most beautiful of all.”

He captured your lips in his after saying this, feeling the heat pool in your cheeks with his hands. The kiss was soft, and short, and sweet. But it turned you into a pool of jelly under his ministrations, your knees going weak and eyes brimming with tears for a different reason than earlier. 

“There is no need to be self-conscious,” he spoke when he broke away. “There’s no need to compare yourself to other girls. You are mine, and I am yours, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

No words would ever be good enough to show your gratitude toward Anakin. Your solution-- press your lips to his again, and show him how good he made you feel. 

[redhawtriot]

Fairy AU (BNHA x Reader)

I have lil’ comic I hope to publish soon:)

Basically, it’s a world where fairies are the last mythical creatures to exist after all magic is depleted from Earth's resources. 

Magic has been gone for so long that it’s seen as a myth  by humans and fairies are seen just like any other animal-- their land is deforested, they are captured-- eaten in some places and treated like pets in others…

To help me build my world up, I decided to make a series of ‘drabbles’ where you (reader) are placed into this world and come across one of the MHA characters as fairies!

(PS I still need beta readers for Baby Boom! Chapter 5 is long, so if you wanna read it before other people, inbox me and you can help me edit it!)

Part 1: Izuku Midoriya.

It always shocked you whenever you saw the color green.

No.

‘Shocked’ isn't the right word. A better fitting word might reside somewhere along the lines of confused and bewildered. You see, the color green is not something that you found very often in the concrete jungle that you called home. In fact, you could count on one hand how many green items you saw daily.

There was the occasional street sign, the street light that blinked and told cars that they could speed ahead (any pedestrians waddling along be dammed)  and, of course, the rare plant. The sad saplings-- pathetic excuses for trees-- planted every so often in your metropolitan area had some ounce of green you supposed. When they were not dying or dead. 

So, in conclusion, green was not something you saw very often in your blue, steel, city life. 

So why then, is a small blob of green currently staring at you, pleading for your help across the marketplace.

Your eyes widened as the sudden eye contact as you peered into the cage.

Was that a… fairy??

You snapped your head away so rapidly, that you pinched a nerve; however, the pinch in your heart was much worse after that sight.

Goddamn it. 

You had made the careless mistake of turning your head ever so slightly toward the meat and deli and now, instead of finding a great deal on sliced ham, you had found a not so great deal of debilitating guilt. This scene was one Sarah Mclachlan, “In the Arms of an Angel” away from full blown making you cry. 

As the fairy's squeaks reached your ears you knew that you couldn't turn your head even further from it, yet you did suddenly find the loaf of bread in your hand very interesting. 

You concentrated on the bread like your life depended on it until finally you release your grip on the loaf with a deep groan, “Fine!” you exclaimed, earning a couple wary looks from the other customers as you angrily wheeled over to the meat section of the market.

The butcher face slacked in shock as you marched up to the register.

“How much for it!?” you furiously pointed to the fairy’s cage, not even bothering to give it a second glance. 

“Uh…” the butcher, obviously startled by your assertiveness, could only shakily point above his head to the price board. As soon as your eyes landed on the price for the fairy, your jaw fell to the ground. 

$1,500. USD.

“T-that’s gotta be a typo right? The decimal is in the wrong place!” you exclaimed with certainty, but the butcher only shrugged,

“They go fast, trust me,” he gave a short chortle, “We got a whole shipment this morning and this one’s all we got left. I thought for sure that mean blonde fairy bastard was gonna go last. The thing even bit me! I’m glad it’s ass is gonna be on someone’s plate tonight!” He gave a hearty laugh but you found nothing funny at all. 

“I’ll take it,” you deadpanned, causing the butcher to halt in his glee. He threw you an unsure look.

“Now, now, miss. I mean it. That’s the set price-- no bartering with me!” he shook a finger at you, and you only rolled your eyes in return,

“Yeah. I get the point.” you angrily grumbled as you rummaged around in your wallet and pulled out your card. You slammed the plastic on the counter and pouted away from the man, your eyes landing on your newly bought, little, green friend. 

That’s when you noticed he wasn't all green actually-- only his hair. He was average fairy height, at about 3 inches tall, and had a mess of glowing viridian tattoos throughout his body. His wings reminded you of a bumble bee’s.

His horns seemed to be sawed down, giving him an eerie, human-like appearance.

You tilted your head.

What an odd looking fairy…

The loud smack of your card being returned to you snapped you out of your trance. You quietly (somewhat begrudgingly) accepted your card back as the butcher snatched the fairy and shoved him in a plastic bag for you.

“Hey!” you called out, “Don’t hurt him!”

He threw me a puzzled glance, “It’s a fairy, they cant feel pain,” he flatly told you as if you were the dumbest thing on two legs.

A wave of heat rushed to your face, “I-I know that,” you reluctantly explained, “It’s just-- That’s my last two paychecks for you’re handling! So… so be careful!” you finished, grabbing the bag out of his hands and making your way toward the store's exit. 

You wouldn't be getting groceries tonight after all. ‘Or until your next paycheck for that matter,’ you internally sighed before raising your hand up to your face to glare at the bagged fairy, “You owe me!” you hissed.

The fairy’s tiny face threw a smile at you, instantly warming your heart as you noticed little microscopic freckles on his cheeks. 

The butcher gave a knowing chuckle at your retreating figure, “Must be one of those animal rights people again,” he muttered slowly under his breath as you walked away. 

Meanwhile, you gave another gigantic sigh, “My landlord won't allow pets and no matter how tiny you are, a thing like you is bound to get noticed in a city like this if I let you go,” you gave the creature a sympathetic look as you continue your journey home, “What am I gonna do with you, little guy?”

                            ___________________________________

Thanks for taking your time to get introduced to my little world! 

Comment below for what other MHA characters I should write about in my Fairy AU and if you like comics, check out my webtoons account @LizahNoodles!

[simply-trash5]

PuppetBoy

Okay Kankuro simps, got some more juice for ya! Seriously this was so fun to write. It is a college AU about Kankuro and a reader. I am pretty proud of it. I would love to write some things for you so PLEASE request. Seriously. I’ll even try smut (I’ve never written it before so we’ll see how it goes). Drop them in the ask box and if you like what you read you should totally tell me because i am a self conscious bean.

What the hell is that noise? You think to yourself as you look around. It sounded terrible. Whatever car was making that noise was definitely on it’s last leg. You nod your head realizing it was the same guy you see everyday parked across from the education building at your college. You could hear loud metal playing from the speakers and the windows shaking as he pulled into the lot. He jumped out,slammed the door and gave the tire a swift kick. Wow he’s kinda cute. He stood almost 6 ft. tall and had on a black hoodie that hung lightly over his brown hair. His black jeans had rips in the knees and you could see he was wearing scuffed black DocMartens. You continued to follow him with your eyes as he passed you walking toward the theatre building. He had an eyebrow ring and gauges. Oh shit, I think he caught me staring. He looked at you, scoffed and kept walking toward the theatre building. Is he a theatre major? You wondered to yourself. Maybe he just has to take a fine art credit. Letting your thoughts wander you pulled the straps on your bookbag tighter and walked to your class in the education building. 

The class seemed to drag on forever, and you knew after that you had to go to your nannying job which would take up most of the evening. You wished that you didn’t have to have a job, but unfortunately scholarships didn’t cover all of your tuition. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and headed toward the parking lot. Climbing into your car you started the engine and began making your way to your job. You loved kids, so nannying was a great gig for you. When you arrived at the home of a doctor in your area you were greeted by a small boy with a large grin. “Ms. Y/N, can we go to the children’s theater today? Mom said we could go if it was okay with you, she even left my booster seat so you can drive!” You giggled and shrunk down to his height. “Well if your mom says it's okay, it's fine by me. Let’s grab your jacket and booster seat and we will leave.” The small child ran into the house. His mother approached you. “Thank you so much for watching Trevor,I know he is a handful but i'm rather fond of him.” You gave her a huge smile and told her that it was no problem and explained that you were going to take him to the children's theatre. She said her goodbyes and you walked into the house to retrieve the boys booster seat so that you all could make the 4:00 production of the Three Little Pigs. 

The little boy sitting in front of you on the floor giggled wildly as a wolf puppet “ran” off stage. You smiled down at him. The curtains closed and the crowd gave them a round of applause. The stage hands and puppeteers began to disassemble the set so that they could get ready for the next show when you saw a familiar face. It's car boy. You smiled in his direction, and didn’t realize you may have looked at him a little too long. “Hey, take a picture, it will last longer.” The mysterious boy gave you an annoyed look and a blush began to creep up your face. He was wearing a tight black tshirt that showed off his muscular arms and his tattoo of a sandtimer on his forearm. “Come on Trevor, lets head home,” you said steering the young boy out of the theatre.

“Oh my god what did you say back?” your friend was screeching on the other side of the phone. “Well, see, I just kinda left.” you explained not wanting to relive the embarrassing moment. “Y/N, you have got to do something tomorrow. You’re going to see him in the parking lot and you don’t want it to be weird.” You were twirling your hair around your finger staring at your phone. “Y/N are you still there?” You snapped back to reality, “yeah, I think I will buy him a cup of coffee. I’m sure he never sleeps like the rest of us. He is a college student.” You both finished your conversation and you got ready for bed. You set your alarm early so that you could go to a coffee shop and grab him a coffee to make up for the awkward run-ins you had the last few days. 

“God its early” you whined to yourself but got ready anyway. You had to make a better impression on puppet boy. You gathered your things and headed out the door and made your way to a local coffee shop. You grabbed your latte and then decided it was best to just give him black coffee. You drove to your college thinking about the handsome stranger all the way there. His brown hair was shaggy and fell right into his eyes, which you melted at the thought of his hair being pushed out of his face. Your mind started to drift to what your next move would be as you pulled into the parking lot. Okay, it's 7:45 he should be here any minute. Shit what should I do? In a moment of extreme confidence you grabbed a pen out of your backpack and messily scribbled your phone number on the side of the paper cup. God I hope this works. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You could hear him coming for at least a mile. Alright Y/N you cannot chicken out now. He rolled in and slammed his car door as he had every morning for the earlier part of the semester. It's now or never, you've got this shit. You beelined toward his car. He realized you were approaching and looked at you with a strange face. You immediately got nervous. You just sat the coffee cup on the hood of his car, turned on your heel, and quickly walked to the education building. “HEY! HEY COME BACK!” You heard him calling after you as you continued on your way to class cursing yourself the entire time.

Buzz

You grabbed your phone from your pocket. An unknown number had sent you a text. “How do I know you didn’t drug this coffee so you can turn my corpse into a puppet?” you laughed at the text and a blush spread over your cheeks. “Now why would I do that?” you replied. You typed “Also that is oddly specific” “What can I say, I like puppets?” The conversation continued for the next few days. You saw him a few times on campus but you never spoke in person. He would send you funny memes and videos at all hours of the night. Apparently puppetboy is a night owl. “Um btw, we’ve been talking for days and I still don’t know your name. What should I call you.” “My name is Kankuro.” “Well Kankuro, my name is Y/N. Its nice to put a name with a face.”

Shit I’m never gonna finish this run. You thought to yourself as you continued to run on the treadmill. You had your headphones in and music blaring. You loved to run and hadn’t been to the gym in a few days due to all of your nannying obligations. Okay, only a half mile more to go, you thought to yourself as you pushed your body to keep running. Out of nowhere you felt a large calloused hand on your shoulder. You snapped your head “Hey listen creep I-” before you knew it you were falling only to be caught by Kankuro. “Y/N you falling for me already?” Kankuro flirted giving you a tight smirk. You were shocked, not only by the fall, but by the arms around you. They were strong and helped steady you with ease. He was wearing a dark grey tank top which showed his muscles and tattoo off wonderfully. His legs were muscular too and looked amazing in the black shorts he was wearing. In his other hand he had a pair of boxing gloves. You began to blush and he realized you were staring at him, imagining what he looked like under that tank top. Your hand crept up to your neck where you fiddled with your necklace. He gave you a small chuckle. “I’ve got to go spar with my buddy, but if you want to you can meet me out front in an hour.” You smiled and shook your head and he turned and walked away. The shorts hugged his bottom perfectly and the tank top showed his shoulder muscles. You could see another tattoo on his back. Was it puppet strings? You pursed your lips and began to blush. I would love to see those strings up close. 

The hour wait seemed like the longest hour of your life. You waited out in front of the gym as he came bounding out the door. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. He walked over to his car and opened the door. It made a horrendous screech as it opened and you stifled a laugh. “Whats so funny princess? Just for that we gotta walk to get food.” You blushed. Did he just call me princess? Why was that so hot? “Come on, I’m starving,” he said and began walking down the sidewalk. You walked hurriedly to match his long strides. Damn my short legs. “So Kankuro, where are we going?” he gave you a crooked grin. “Its a surprise.” You giggled and retorted “well how do I know you’re not trying to get me alone and turn my corpse into a puppet?” He gave you a devilish grin, “Well sweetheart lets find out.” Another pet name. Your face turned bright red and you stared at the sidewalk. You approach a deli that you frequent with your friends. “I love this place,” you exclaimed. “Well don’t be weird and actually order some food. I like a girl with an appetite.” You laughed and smiled. You ordered your usual and he ordered grabbing your food and heading outside to a table. You both began eating and chatting casually about your lives. You found out he loves horror movies, especially ones that feature creepy dolls or puppets. You also learned that he has a lot of horror memorabilia in his apartment and that he rarely sleeps. He boxes to keep himself busy when hes not working as a children’s puppeteer. He is studying theatre with concentrations in stage management and special effects makeup. “Kankuro, thats really fucking cool,” you said and began to tell him about yourself. You were studying to be a teacher and nannying as a job to make money for college. You lived in an apartment around the corner from the deli with a friend. “So Kankuro I noticed the sand timer on your arm, do you have any other tattoos?” He gave you another devilish grin.”Yeah I have a back piece that is marionette strings. I’ve loved puppets since I was little so I thought it would be cool. Do you have any tattoos?” You blushed. You stood and pulled up your athletic top to show a tattoo of your family's crest on your hip. You had to pull your shorts down ever so slightly revealing your black lacy underwear. He looked at the tattoo and then back to your face. “Thats a nice one,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation continued and you all talked more about your semester and your family. You laughed and told him about how you liked to run and also about how you thought it was cool he was a boxer. “Maybe one day we can spar angel,” he flashed a smile in your direction and you smiled back at the thought. You both got up from the table and threw your trash away. It was dark and cool. You pulled your jacked tighter around your shoulders. “I guess I am going to walk home and let you get back to the gym.” Kankuro shook his head “absolutely not doll, its dark and I’m walking you home.” You blushed. Another pet name, this boy is gonna be the death of me. 

You began walking toward your apartment and your hands brushed several times by accident. “Damn Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand that bad all you had to do was ask. I aim to please.” You blushed and then punched Kankuro. “Still want to spar?” you said cheekily. You both walked in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if you had known him your whole life. The comfort of him walking beside you felt so nice. “Well this is my apartment.” You sighed and reached for the door. 

BAM

The door slammed shut and you noticed a strong arm beside your face. Kankuro looked down at your lips and smirked. You began to blush. The tension was so thick. I swear im going to pass out. Your heart began racing as he leaned into you. Your back was pressed against the glass of the door with a strong arm beside your head. His other hand made its way to your tattooed hip, he drew circles over your ink with his calloused thumb. His hands were so large that you could feel his fingertips on your back. The heat rose to your cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. He pulled back, his hand still burning a hole into your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see a smirked Kankuro. You were in shock when he reached his other hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Your thoughts raced, you wanted nothing more to bring him up to your apartment and let him give you that devilish grin some more. 

“Guess I’m not a killer princess. Text me.” He chuckled, turned on his heel and walked back toward the gym. You watched him until he walked out of sight. You were ready to see him again and maybe see more of that back tattoo.

[azucanela]

i love your writing so much!!!♥️ if possible, could we get a part three to your zuko fic, home?

HOME PT.3 TEASER | IS WHERE THE AVATAR IS  [ZUKO X READER]

PART 1 | PART 2 |

Iroh was missing. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, the old man, no matter how questionable he was at times, was punctual. Y/N had yet to see him late to anything and she sincerely doubted he was going to start now, especially since Zuko had reminded him, rather rudely, that they had to leave soon if they were to catch the Avatar. Following Zuko through the forest, Y/N quickly realized that Zuko was not a genius.

Of course, if Zuko was a genius, Y/N wouldn’t be around. Her whole purpose since she’d been in the Fire Nation was to serve as his right hand, to be the things he couldn’t. If Zuko couldn’t do something, then she would, they complimented each other well. When he’s incapable of fighting, she beats enemies with ease. Where he lacked a strategic mind, she could develop revolutionary strategies, similar to the ones Zhao had referred to during their last encounter.

The man had clearly gotten under Zuko’s skin, and it seemed something about him was still bugging Zuko. Y/N had noticed his... odd behavior. He’d seemed far more withdrawn than normal, their late night talks had been far less frequent than normal, then again they were no longer in the privacy of the ship. There was a weird atmosphere between them, and it was mostly Zuko’s fault, though Y/N probably should’ve confronted him when she first noticed. She was beginning to miss their conversations, and the more relaxed Zuko that only she saw. Now, it seemed that each time they interacted he was becoming far more awkward than normal.

Sighing as she trailed behind him, and calmly walking throw the brush of leaves in stark opposition to Zuko’s rather aggressive walk, Y/N simply sighed. “Zuko, perhaps you would get there faster if you didn’t spend all your time fighting the trees.” She gives him a sarcastic smile, eyes narrowing at him as he turns back to look at her, as though he’d finally been reminded she was nearby.

Zuko frowns, coming to an abrupt stop, “come here.” They were nearby the ‘hot spring’ Iroh had discovered, or more accurately, made. In the event that Y/N was wrong, a ‘rare’ event in her words, Zuko needed to take precautions, he would not allow Y/N to see his Uncle like that.

“Why?” Y/N asked incredulously, moving to enter the area, but Zuko yanks her back by the wrist.

She turns to look at him, just to have her eyes covered by his hand, “just in case.” Zuko explains, taking her hand in his free one and guiding her to the hot spring. He’s suddenly glad that he has a hand over her eyes, because if Y/N could see him, she definitely would’ve started teasing him by now, especially since he can feel his cheeks burning as he pulls her along.

“I think you just wanted and excuse to hold my hand.” Y/N teases, grinning. Zuko had always been like this, protective, even when they were children and as far as he knew, she was anything but his equal. Y/N had always found it funny, seeing as she could easily handle herself in a fight, not that this fact ever stopped him.

Though she can’t seen Zuko, Y/N has a feeling he’s blushing as he grumbles out, “shut up.” He’s pushing through the final bushes, and when he freezes Y/N knows her theory was right. Zuko’s hand releases hers and Y/N dislikes the way she feels disappointed when it does, his other hand falling from her eyes to reveal the once prosperous hot spring was now sullied by raised earth.

Iroh is missing. And Y/N can’t help but feel worried as she stares at the scene, if the apparent Earthbenders caught him by surprise it’s no wonder he didn’t escape. Iroh, no matter how docile he may act, was a force to be reckoned with. Now it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was Earthbenders, which probably explains why Zuko points it out so quickly.

Or maybe he just doesn’t need Y/N anymore. The thought brings about an odd feeling, one that Y/N can’t describe. She’d been by his side for as long as she could remember, and the thought had never crossed her mind that one day she might not be by his side, one day he might not need her. The possibility was bringing about several emotions, and now she was missing the one person she’d go to for counsel.

Counsel she definitely needed at the moment, seeing as she’d intertwined their destinies, as Zuko put it, permanently.

Her list of problems was growing by the minute, and Y/N finds herself wishing that it was her list of excuses instead, seeing as she was going to need several excuses if he found out anytime soon. Iroh was missing, taken by Earth Kingdom soldiers, likely to be executed in the very city he’d once tried to overthrow. And Y/N had yet to even get any idea of how to handle Airbending, much less tell Zuko about it. Not that she could if she wanted to, seeing as he’d been avoiding any prolonged conversations with her.

And yet Y/N find herself grabbing Zuko’s hand, bringing his attention back to her and away from the thought of his missing Uncle, the man who had practically raised him. Though Zuko didn’t act like it, he cared for Iroh, and Y/N could see it in the way his body stiffened as he cursed his Uncle for his foolishness. “Everything is fine.”

This was a mess. Nothing was fine. Everything was pretty chaotic, actually. 

A/N: give me like a week and it’ll be out akjshdkjahsdjk ugh, im so excited to write about that one fortune teller lady, anyways guys take a guess as to what Y/N did hehe

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