#funniest thing is its the same damn coat

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Oda: if I had a nickel for every time I had to carry an injured teen with gunshot wounds wearing a long black coat and threatening to kill me, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[kairiscorner]

thinking of building a snowman with gojo and him blushing and all because he’s so full of love and he want to give it to reader ☃️❤️‍🔥

was just thinking of romantic gojo nowadays 😍

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ holiday headcanons event !!

day 5.4: building a snowman with gojo ☃️

🍰 genre: fluff !! ✒️ word count: 683 💭 summary: building a snowman with gojo☃️ 📣 thanks for requesting anon! if you'd like to request any other prompt for any other character, please refer to my holiday headcanons event and send me an ask!

gojo, ever the little shit that he was, laughed aloud when the head of the snowman you two were working on fell on your head after you skidded off the slippery ground and fell on your butt. he captured numerous photos of you, filming him laughing aloud as you scooped bits of snow off your face, your eyebrows furrowed at him. "aww... is shorty angry?" he asked you in a mocking tone as you threw a snow ball at him.

every snow ball you threw at gojo never hit him, his damned limitless technique was a pain in your neck for this very reason. he stuck his tongue out at you playfully, from underneath his dark shades, he pulled on his lower eyelid, taunting you. you huffed and tried to roll up another head for the snowman you two were working on in defeat.

gojo hated it whenever you'd go silent when he teases you, he misses the fiery side of you that'd snap back at him and give him a taste of his own bullshit. he decided to tone things down a bit and help you, such a little thing like you in his eyes wouldn't be able to do this all alone, right?

"hey," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours, smiling like a doofus. his cyan blue eyes gazing at you from underneath his sunglasses, they didn't carry an ounce of apology or guilt, they did carry in them, however, a load of admiration. "lemme help you rebuild frosty over here, he's ours," he insists as he helps you roll up a sizeable head for the snowman.

after the head was of a decent size, he helped you carry it up on its body and stabilize it. you still weren't forgiving him, though, so you gave him the silent treatment. gojo noticed this and yawned loudly, grabbing your attention, even for a split second. "geez, you're boring like this..." he muttered, picking up the small pebbles and the carrot nose that was on the snowman's old head.

he placed the pebbles where its eyes should be, and with such force, he thrusted the carrot right in between its eyes, chuckling. "it looks funny like this, right?" he asked you with a childish grin, pointing at it and looking at you with expectant eyes. though, you weren't looking at him, you were busy playing with the snow next to the snowman, ticking gojo off a bit.

he slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, shaking you a little, trying to get your attention once more. "hey... hey, you can't seriously still be mad at me for earlier, are ya?" he asked you, looking a bit incredulous at you. yet again, you said nothing, making gojo sigh dramatically; he only ever did this for you, nobody else—he clasped his hands together while kneeling before you, and with a grand bow, he exclaimed, "oh, my dear, please forgive me! i am but a bumbling fool! forgive me for my stupidity, even though it was the funniest thing to ever happen today, please, be merciful on me, my sweet!"

your response was nothing like he imagined, but wholly welcomed; you responded with... a successful hit to his face with a snowball. gojo's sunglasses were now coated in some snow, which he smirked at, seeing you smile slightly before turning away from him. he chuckled as he took his sunglasses off, wiping the bits of snow from his face. "oh, we're gonna start playing like that now, huh?" he asked you in a challenging voice, picking up some snow and shaping it into a crude sphere, chucking it at you, making you giggle.

you fired back and threw a snowball of your own at him again, while gojo did the same, not backing down and throwing snowballs at you in retaliation. you could never be mad at gojo for that long, not with him being your snow child's father, of course you could never be mad; but you could always give him a taste of his own bullshit to make it even with him.

[yunhowhoitiss]

𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧

𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫!𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k+ words

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, slightly suggestive, subtle mutual pining (?)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re locked out of your apartment, and your sweet neighbour Mingi just wants to help you out. how long can you go until you realize he likes you too?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: silk ties make an appearance heh, mingi sees reader’s bra :0 (through a shirt, nonetheless), shy mingi in general, some good ol’ teasing

masterlist

Puddles pitter-pattered under your feet as you took brisk steps on the sidewalk. With your right hand, you held your bag above your head to shield your head from the rain; your left hand was busy wiping drops off of your face. Just a few minutes ago you were calmly walking home from the restaurant you worked at, with your eyelids drooping and feet sore, but heavy clouds interrupted your walk with torrents of rain. Cold rainwater was now soaking through your socks, squelching with every step you took, and your teeth had started knocking together in a chatter. You couldn’t afford to get sick now of all times, you thought, so you rushed to get to your apartment and punched in the building’s entry code as fast as possible with your numb fingers. You made your way to the elevator and ruffled through your bag looking for your keys, struggling to find them. 

Just as the elevator dinged to signal its arrival, a man came through the building entrance; he was tall, dressed in a long coat, and he sported contrastingly cute glasses over his sharp eyes. It was your neighbour, Mingi. He smiled upon seeing your face, and you couldn’t deny that his eyes-turned-half-moons lifted your spirits ever so slightly. As you were lost in your thoughts, so was Mingi. He felt his heart jump upon crossing paths with you and admired your face as you remained distracted. Hell, he would’ve moved out of the damned apartment building a long time ago if you hadn’t been the one thing keeping him anchored there.

“Hi there,” he greeted as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you responded distractedly, continuing to search for your keys. 

As both of you entered the elevator, you were embarrassingly aware of the wet squeak of your converse against the tiled floor. Mingi pressed the button for the 3rd floor while you dug through your bag, still oblivious of his curious gaze on you. Frustration laced your expression, and it became clear to you that you had no idea where you’d put your keys. You thought back to the moment when you were closing up the restaurant you worked at, raking your memory for the location of your keys. The elevator arrived at your floor, and Mingi sent you a subtly concerned glance before exiting and muttering “G'night.”

You briefly lingered in the elevator when it hit you: I left them at the front desk of the restaurant. How could I leave with the restaurant keys and not with my own?

Stepping out of the lift, you wandered to your apartment door, lost in your thoughts. It’s too late at night to call my landlord for the spare key. I can’t go back to the restaurant either— there’s too much rain. It crossed your mind to call your best friend, but he lived a whole city away. You were so preoccupied trying to figure out your situation that you hadn’t noticed Mingi standing in front of his open door, deep in thought. At this point, he had caught on to the fact that you didn’t have your house keys. He watched you listlessly stare at your door and wondered if he could help.

“Hey, uh, you good over there?” he asked gingerly.

“Not really. I don’t have my keys. I– well– I left them at work.”

Mingi contemplated offering his couch for the night. No, no, that’s creepy. Or is it? I don’t want to seem weird.

“Do you… need a place to crash for the night? I have a decently sized couch, and I could fish out some clean clothes for you if you’d like." You curiously tilted your head, wondering why he was being so kind. This didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi, but he misinterpreted it and thought you were suspicious of him. "Oh, don’t get me wrong! I just figured you could use my hand– well, not my hand, I mean a hand– but my help, you know?” Mingi babbled.

“Well, if you really don’t mind, I’d gladly crash on your couch.”

Mingi’s shoulders visibly relaxed as you accepted his request. He nodded at his door, beckoning for you to come in. You followed his instructions to leave your shoes by the door and your bag and jacket by the couch. Mingi headed down a short hallway into what seemed to be his bedroom; you stood awkwardly in his living room, silently inspecting his apartment. It was fairly well decorated: an ivy green sectional couch sat in front of a cheap television. In front of the couch stood a glass coffee table littered with magazines and used mugs, in the corner stood a pretty industrial-style lamp, and you spotted about seven miniature succulents on the windowsills of three tall windows. Although the plants seemed to be dying, you commended Mingi for somewhat trying to maintain them. You heard his footsteps from the hall again and turned around to see what he had come back with. He held a thick blanket in one hand, and a pillow in the other.

“I hope this is warm enough; it’s the softest blanket I have.”

“Thank you, really, it should be more than enough,” you smiled at his earnestness.

He looked at you apologetically when he noticed your teeth chattering; you hadn’t noticed just how wet and cold your clothes were. Your body shivered and your arms wrapped around your front. You were unaware that the white shirt you wore did little to disguise what was beneath it, and didn’t catch Mingi swallow (hard) and avert his eyes. He dropped the pillow and blanket on the couch and turned towards you, hesitant to say his next words.

“If you want, you can take a shower to warm up; you could borrow some of my clothes since yours are pretty soaked,” he scratched his head and avoided your gaze, “If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

As you took a quick look at your clothes you realized what he meant. Oh shit. What a day for a white shirt, huh? You felt heat crawl up your neck and cheeks out if embarrassment upon understanding that he had probably noticed your bra through your clothing. With anyone else, you wouldn’t have thought too much of it, but something about the idea of taking a shower and wearing his clothes all but made your heart leap out of your chest. Strangely enough, you weren’t uncomfortable in the least. An abrupt burst of confidence overtook you.

“Showering here and wearing your clothes… that’s more of a fourth date thing, don’t you think?” You teased, unable to resist the temptation to. 

For a moment, Mingi was caught off-guard at your sudden change of attitude, until he finally processed your words. He laughed out loud at your cheeky comment and flashed you his signature eye-smile. You found it cute that he cackled with his head thrown back, mouth wide open. Your fingertips tingled, and the sound of his laugh set of a warm buzz throughout your body. 

“A shower would be nice, though. Thank you,” you added.

He uttered a short “no problem” before nudging his glasses back up his nose. Now, of all times, your stomach gurgled in protest of being empty; you hadn’t eaten since this morning. The amused smile fell off of your face, now replaced with a frown and wide eyes. Mingi chortled upon hearing the sudden noise, finding it oddly endearing how embarrassed your expression had become. Cute.

“I’ll make us something to eat while you’re getting washed up. You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

“Peanuts,” you tell him.

“Noted.”

He paced toward his kitchen– well, it was more of a kitchenette –and opened up the fridge, only to find a carton of milk and leftover pizza. He internally rolled his eyes at himself. You can’t even cook, dumbass, no wonder it’s so empty. He opted to check in one of the cabinets. From where you stood, you could see that it was filled with a variety of instant ramen and a lonely can of peaches. You struggled to hold in the laugh that bubbled out of your chest while Mingi was slightly embarrassed, but he grinned regardless.

“Do you know how to cook anything besides instant noodles?” you giggled, stepping towards him.

“Totally,” he feigned confidence.

“What?”

“Uh… microwave popcorn.”

This time you didn’t even try to tone down your laugh, laughing as if he had told you the funniest joke in the world. He looked down at you and observed the way you held your tummy as you laughed, spotting a faint snort in your chuckle. He just stood and watched you, ignoring his rapid heartbeat and the familiar butterflies in his tummy. The same butterflies he got every time you crossed paths in the elevator, or the times he happened to see you leave your apartment when he did. When you finally caught your breath, you spoke again.

“You know what? Instant ramen sounds good,” you beamed.

“Coming right up. As for your change of clothes, you’ll find some shirts and sweats in the drawers in my bedroom. First door on the right.” He filled a pot with water and opened several packs of ramen as he spoke.

Mingi’s bedroom was simpler than you thought it would be. In the far corner by an old-looking window sat his bed on a simple bed frame; the mattress was large for one person and just enough for two. There was no wardrobe to be seen except a long rack full of various clothes. The man sure knows how to dress. Mingi cared a lot about his fashion, after all. You spotted a black dresser and assumed they were the drawers he mentioned earlier. You checked the bottom drawer first and picked out a pair of black sweatpants, then moved on to the middle one. As you slid open the wooden drawer, it revealed a couple of stacks of socks, shirts, and underwear. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you spotted pairs of grey underwear alongside a pair of banana-patterned boxers. You assumed Mingi had forgotten to warn you, and you smiled shyly before laughing at the pair of yellow undergarments. You dug through the shirts beside them anyway, only to find tank tops and t-shirts. Doesn’t he own any sweatshirts?

You continued rummaging through the bag as your fingers brushed against something uncharacteristically soft. Thoughtlessly, you pulled the object out.

Oh my god.

Your fingers were wrapped around two pairs of black and white silk ties, each delicate in your hands. You stuffed them back where you found them and closed the drawer with a bang, huffing a big breath.

“Everything alright, y/n?” You heard Mingi call from the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine!”

“Alright, ramen’s ready in fifteen!”

You snatched a blue hoodie from the top drawer and hurried to the bathroom. You tried to focus on the hot water flowing down the curve of your spine, but curiosity plagued you as you wondered about the silk ties. Your attention drifted to thoughts of whether he may be interested in going out one day, or if he had already given his heart to someone else. You scolded yourself for being too nosy. He’s just being nice, y/n. Don’t get any ideas.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the warmth that flooded your chest every time you saw his face or met him in the hallway. An exasperated sigh escaped your lips; you were too tired to be thinking of something so trivial. 

You stretched your arm out of the shower, but your hand was met with an empty towel rack. Oh shit, you had forgotten to ask for a towel. Luckily, the vapour floating through the bathroom kept you warm, but it wouldn’t be long before it dissipated.

Mingi was busy watching the noodles boil, his mind distracted with sound of your laugh. Your giggle remained imprinted in his brain like a song playing on repeat. Mingi sighed; he was in too deep. Subconscious joy painted a fond smile on his lips; he realized he probably looked quite ridiculous grinning at a pot of boiling noodles. Out of the blue, he heard you calling his name from the shower. He wasn’t sure why, but he instantly panicked upon hearing your distressed tone. Is she okay? Did she slip? Is there a spider on the wall or something? (He’d never admit it, but Mingi hoped it wasn’t the latter because he’s scared of spiders too.)

“Everything alright?” he asked from outside the bathroom door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just forgot a towel,” you admitted.

“O-oh,” his face flushed as he sped over to the closet where he kept clean towels. He opened the bathroom door enough to fit his torso through and bashfully looked away– he knew you were behind the shower curtain, but he was having an emotional overload just from knowing you were even in his shower. It was best he looked away before having another issue to take care of. You dried off quickly, no longer being able to stand the angry rumble of your stomach. Mingi’s clothes were large, so they just barely clung to you– you were quite worried that they may slip off –but they would do for now.

You walked out towards the living room with your wet clothes in hand and laid them over your bag to dry. Mingi, as he set the pot of hot ramen on his small dining table, tilted his head to see you. Oh, wow. He knew his clothes would look big on you, but at this point, you weren’t wearing the clothes– the clothes were wearing you. He chuckled before he could stop himself. It was clear to you why he was laughing, or rather, who he was laughing at.

“Hey!” you put your fists on your hips, trying not to giggle. You knew how ridiculous you looked.

“What?” he looked at you, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you purposefully pouted and whined, hoping to fluster him.

“Who says I’m laughing at you?”

“You think I look silly.”

“No, I think you look cute. Now let’s eat.”

Cute? Your playful demeanour ebbed away as you processed the compliment. Mingi looked you straight in the eyes, knowing what he was doing to you. He leaned back in his chair, putting his toned thighs in full view. “C'mon, take a seat.” He shifted his thighs emphatically.

You nearly choked at his words; your mind went places it shouldn’t. Mingi grinned in satisfaction upon seeing your cheeks burn red, and gestured towards the seat in front of him.

“The noodles are gonna get cold…” he teased.

You were shy all over again, feeling embarrassed for assuming he meant for you to sit in his lap. A little wishful thinking never hurt. You skittered over to the chair across from him and went straight for the noodles.

For nearly an hour, you both ate and drank as you talked about work, friends, everything in between. Your conversation never fizzled out, and you learned that Mingi was a lot softer than he seemed. The pot was now empty, except for some stray noodles, and both your stomachs were fit to burst. Post-dinner fatigue started settling in; your body begged for you to rest after ingesting so much food. Mingi put away the dishes, earning a “thank you” from you in return. He suggested you watch a movie, unless you wanted to head to bed already.

“No, no, I’m fine. A movie sounds good,” you assured him.

“Any specific genre?”

“Nope.”

Mingi settled to watch a movie called Ponyo with you, claiming it to be the “best fucking movie on earth.” You sat crisscrossed on the couch, next to Mingi who settled his feet on the edge of the coffee table and spread his arms over the top of the couch. You grabbed the blanket he gave you earlier and wrapped yourself in it, nuzzling your cheek into the soft fabric. Not even half an hour into the movie, you eyelids drooped tiredly, your head falling forward every now and then. Mingi spotted your head nodding forwards out of the corner of his eye, but stayed quiet anyway. A couple of minutes later, he felt your weight against his arm, only to find that you’d fallen asleep. He observed your sleeping form tenderly and noted that you were a soft snorer. Before you could lose your balance and fall forwards, he turned you with one hand and cradled your head with the other, settling your head in his lap. He brushed the hair off your face, unconsciously patting your head in soothingly slow motions. Mingi’s own eyelids started to feel heavy as well, his hand moving in increasingly slow movements. 

He could only think of one thing before he fell asleep as he stared at your face snuggled in his lap, and his lips moved on their own accord before he could control himself.

“I really, really like you, you know that?” he whispered lovingly. His hand stopped its movements on your hair when he noticed the corners of your lips lift in an affectionate grin. (Mingi never noticed, but you’d woken up as soon as you head hit his thigh.) You nuzzled closer into him and wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling warm as ever. Well, I know now. 

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom episode 4-7 Thoughts: (under a readmore because, these got kinda long!)

-the outfit danny had to buy for dash's party. CLASSIC 2000S i cannot stop laughing. And also showing up to the party and everyone is dressed like the trio is hilarious. and further proof that everyone looks good dressed goth.

-dash has a closet full of cute lil bear plushies?? LOVE that. adorable. also his response to danny trashing his room fighting a ghost was SO valid if somone BROKE MY BED IN HALF ID BE PISSED TOO.

-technus being like 'oh smart, u should be a tutor!' then later being like 'forget tutor, be a teacher!' :) supportive king <3 I also really like his upgraded suit/design. AND SPOCK CAMEO??? HELLO??

-the music in this show is super. its so funky. I looked it up and the guy who does it, guy moon (awesome name) also did music for other cartoons like fairly odd parents, barnyard, chalkzone, billy & mandy, AND some actual movies like FIGHT CLUB??? the whiplash I got from reading that)

-sam being rich explains a lot about her, actually.

-I know the moral of the episode was supposed to be 'dont ditch your friends for popular people/spend a lot of money on clothes that arent You to Fit In'. but tbh. it wouldve been easy for danny to have been like 'well, okay, ill come but only if my friends can!' but I get. that hes 14. so. not a lot to say there.

-BOX GHOST IS BACK!!!!! also, danny sitting up and wearing the dress/wig/makeup. umm thats how I dress everyday LMFAO. unironically me. (hate the jokes that boil down to 'haha funney man in dress' tho. but this is a look)

-jazz being protective of her brother once again being like NOOO YOU GUYS BETTER NOT STAKE OUT HIS (actually haunted) LOCKER!! shes aware of how people perceive him and she wants to help :( which is also probably why she told dash to invite him to that party even tho she had no interest in going!! she wants to help him out :(

-gotta say im with tucker on the whole 'should danny use his powers to get back at bullies' debate. 100% yes. let him teach kids to fight back. making dash throw his food at paulina out of the blue? no. but when hes actually about to pick on someone? yeah! for self defense? YEAH! if dash and his friends just threw food at him, I think rather than. idk doing sneaky shit with frogs he couldve just threw it back and not pulled punches if they tried to fight. I kNOOWWW its a kids show so they are like 'if u fight back ur just as bad!! violence bad!!' but. theyre HIS POWERS. WHO CARES.

-like my only gripe is that dash really isnt LEARNING ANYTHING WHEN DANNY GETS BACK AT HIM IN THE MOST PETTY INDIRECT WAYS. whatever they had to add a bully psa episode I guess. I hate it and I hate the way cartoons usually handle it because these methods simply Do Not Work. 'aND YouRE USinG YOur poWErs FOR EVill???!' this is Not Evil. even when poindexter takes dannys body, theyre only being 'nice' bc hes stealing soda for them!! bitches deserve what they get (nothing too brutal bc theyre high schoolers but damn, if they pick on danny he doesnt need to be the 'bigger person' he needs to start biting people)

-SAM TRYING TO SMUGGLE FROGS OUT OF THE BIO LAB?? girl in middle school when we had to dissect frogs we could opt out, also, they came to us already dead and preserved...

-sidney's lingo and the fact hes in black and white is sending me. also, danny is a ghost celebrity apparently for being a halfa?? ok. thats interesting to know

-the DENTIST BEING EXCITED ABOUT THE COTTON CANDY FLOOD IS THE FUNNIEST THING SO FAR.

-I LOOOVE the trope of 'wishes gone wrong'. not crazy about the stereotypical genie, or the use of the dreamcatcher looking design. (also, I KNOW theyre scientists but the way theyre handling a cold...are the fentons ANTIVAX)

-the genie. she. whitewished paulina. JKASDFHKJ. (the ghost literally just being hello kitty???? im dying) 'why do i feel that im special and wonderful? because I AM! <3' paulina ilu self worth queen. felt bad for her also getting possessed by (2) boys later who were arguing INSIDE HER. WTF.

-imagine being the guy trapped in his now flying car. he thought danny and tucker were HALUCINATIONS. imagine being trapped in a flying car with two, what you think are imaginary arguing 14 year olds convinced ur gonna die. i WOULD say this dude is gonna need so much therapy, but he seemed totally fine and excited when they landed (I would be happy too if a chicken was on my head. chickens rule) stoner rights

-sam's bat slippers??? iconic. SO cute.

-I think desiree's backstory is so :( do all ghosts have messed up sad backstories?? poindexter's was sad too...cannot imagine box ghost has any kind of fucked up backstory. but what if. his mom got pushed off cliffs by boxes...........a la cruella... anyway her 'no man may lay a hand on me' iconic. ilu

-I know danny has no concept of how much bras cost but my god dont attack tucker with some girls bra. those are so expensive.

-its really. well its not a GOOD THING he went into the portal and got fucked up, but its good danny was the one to do it rather than sam or tucker. because even tho he was being influenced by desiree and kept getting more malicious and it prob wasnt 100% him...he sucked as a ghost like most the people he 'pranked' were innocent ppl just Chillin and he didnt want to help anyone at all. I think danny is the most responsible out of them but also, hes 14 and shouldnt HAVE to feel obligated to fight every ghost. hes a good kid and wants to, but I also feel like he feels like...responsible for the portal turning on?? because his parents did give it up,, but it was an accident and not his fault (if anything, why was the on switch on the inside. why was it that easy. why was there no safety measures. that seems like smth OSHA needs to hear about). like thats my son. hes a good boy. and hes never done anything wrong in his life, ever. if anyone hurts him im killing everyone in this room and then myself. etc.

-danny's curfew is 10PM????? DUDE. when I was 14...shit I couldn't be out that late, I had to be back at like, 8 at the latest, and my parents had to know exactly where and who I was going with, AND i had to call/text them regularly...is this a case of my parents being overbearing, or the fentons sucking??? the only time i could EVER be out that late was if I was at an overnight sleepover or smth...

-the vultures have lil fezes. why do they have fezes...theyre so fuckin funny 'ask him for directions' 'I KNOW WHERE IM GOING' these ghost vultures are my new grandpas. pick them up, put them in the adopt box.

-'I wonder why those guys were trying to waste dad!' THEYRE GHOSTS. YOUR DAD HUNTS GHOSTS. why is that not a conclusion you'd immediately jump to??

-*jazz voice, clearly disgusted* WISCONSIN???

-mrs fenton with the lab coat and leg warmers and PERM. YESSS STYLISH.

-was going to say 'ew billionaire' @vlad but. super valid he used his powers to assumedly steal and cheat to get that money, thats how all billionaires do it! but ew hes a SIMP. and spending your billions on FOOTBALL STUFF?? you are Not Valid overall. I DO respect the fact you have a castle instead of a mansion. in wisconsin. if youre going to be stupidly rich might as well go all out, torches on the wall and all. I DO like his ghost form's little kitty ears. catman. and his cape! every design can benefit from a cape. and how different his forms look, like danny looks the EXACT SAME IN BOTH FORMS ASIDE FROM COLOR CHANGES. vlad's is like,, I could believe they were different people!! also I love the drama. but dude you are fighting a 14 year old. lame. also he was like, telling danny he wanted his mom and him and like, wanted him to renounce his dad?? WHAT ABOUT JAZZ?? bitch. those r MY kids and they are both important and special. I do agree they need better parents but thats not u sir <3

-I thought vlad's 'little badger' nickname for danny came from the football mascot of the packers, but google says they have NO MASCOT?? so now I'm like?? is it because his hair is sometimes black and sometimes white?? I hate to give him props but thats a PERFECT NICKNAME. theyre also tiny and vicious!

-why did I get so excited that Skulker is back!! its been like. 2-3 eps LMAO. AND THE DAIRY KING. ICONIC I LOVE HIM. hes the nicest guy ever :) more nice ghosts please. danny cannot be fighting alone everytime with no ghost buds like every ghost being hostile sucks :(

-mr. fenton knew vlad was controlling him, but a few episodes ago he had no clue danny was doing the same thing...is it something about how malicious the ghost is?? he just seemed to think his memory had gaps the first time, this time he was INSTANTLY LIKE 'GHOST'. then again in this ep when danny did it again he was just slightly confused but not immediately freaking out like he did with vlad possessing him!!

-'my parents will accept ME NO MATTER WHAT' so. so why haven't you come out to them yet, danny?? if you really think that?? if theres no harm, and you're sure??? if vlad is a real problem, wouldnt that make dealing with him easier, to expose him???? SO WHY HAVENT YOU COME OUT YET?? COULD IT BE,, MAYBE YOU HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT WHETHER YOUR PARENTS ACTUALLY WILL ACCEPT YOU??? 🤔 ... 🏳‍🌈 I get why people say He Is Trans. I totally totally get u danny.

-sorta unrelated, but it just occurred to me in one of these eps they go to casper HIGH not casper middle school??? theyre 14?? dont highschools usually do ages 15-18? (I didnt go to hs so I might be wrong, if I am ignore this...) freshmen are usually 14-15, could just be a case of them not turning 15 yet but they will sometime in the school year (I say they because tucker said he was 14 too)? I know the show has 3 seasons, so by the end of it will they be older? thatd be neat but usually cartoon characters stay the same age...I love shows where you can see the characters age and grow up, though...three seasons seems like a long time to spend on like, 1 year...

[kiribakuhappiness]

Bakugou's Wedding Studio

Katsuki's

by KiriBakuHappiness

(AO3 link)

Bakugou Katsuki / Kirishima Eijirou Wedding Planner / Engaged AU Fluff/Humor/Light-Angst/Romance Rated T (for Katsuki’s colorful language) Word Count: 6315

Author's Note:// I really don't know where this story idea came from but I just had such an overwhelming urge to write it so now all of you are going to have to read it - enjoy!

Katsuki has never been to a wedding before.

The fuck would he waste his time going to one of those dumbass things for? To watch relatives who he didn't know and had never cared to meet before cry disgustingly and blow snot into rags in celebration of someone else in the family getting to have bland missionary sex for the rest of their pathetically monotonous lives?

Or did the joy come from listening to people whisper about the decoration choices and chuckle in disdain about family drama or was all the fun wrapped up in making sure someone's estranged uncle didn't get too drunk and try to piss on the bride's gown or -

Where the fuck was the fun in any of it?!

Fuck. Katsuki hated weddings - and he's never even fucking been to one before but that hardly matters because he gets the overall fucking gist of them just fine on his own. He's seen all the damn movies.

The weepy vows and the overly-edited wedding photos and the drunken hook ups in the coat closet or bathroom with someone who may or may not be a distant cousin or, fuck; it was all so very cliché and annoying.

Unfortunately, Katsuki's mother was a fucking wedding planner - so guess who knew way more about weddings than he'd ever planned to know?

You're a fucking genius. It's this guy.

Just shoot his damn brains out now. 'S not like he's gonna need them much after suffering through all of this shit.

"Katsuki," his mother swats at his arm and abruptly pulls him full force back into the wretched reality of this entirely undesirable situation. "Are you listening? This is important to me - I'm really counting on you for this one, kid!"

Katsuki barely holds back a groan. Barely.

He might be reaching 24, but his attitude still felt like that of an angsty teenager most days, and all of this unnecessary needling really wasn't helping with his high blood pressure that his doctor kept insisting that he had.

He shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the edge of the hospital bed and tries to pay attention - he does - because his mother got hit by a car not three hours ago, and while that was so insatiably fucking hilarious to think about on its own, the resulting chaos that had ensued after such a laughably out-of-bounds incident that had dragged his ass head-first into all of this was most certainly not.

"I could do this shit in my sleep if I had to. I was forced to go with you to meet-ups like this all the damn time, remember?" Katsuki grumbles bitterly as he proceeds to flip through the scarce few channels on the television screen hanging up in the corner of the room.

Mitsuki snatches the remote from him when he passes over the same dull history channel about sharks for the third time since he'd arrived with a bag full of hastily packed shit from the house after he had gotten the call from the hospital.

"Yeah, when you were seven." She turns the television off and tosses the remote out of his reach into the other vacant chair on the far side of the room. Katsuki scowls and watches it soar away, briefly mourning the loss of the only thing getting him through this conversation with his mental stability still in tact.

"How fucking hard can it be?" Katsuki continues to gripe as he slouches further down in his seat, throwing his feet up to rest his boots on the bed with his ankles crossed. "'You want this piece of shit flower, or this piece of shit flower? You want this dumb table set up, or this dumb table set up?' I think I can fucking handle it."

His mother sighs and runs a hand over her bruised face, but he can still see the smirk that she's so desperately trying to hide in her palm. She can't fool Katsuki - she might sell lovey-dovey bullshit day in and day out to poor saps who waste all of their hard earned life savings on some big dumb party that most of their guests who are invited to attend are too drunk to even remember the next morning anyway - but she's just as much of an asshole as Katsuki is.

Mitsuki was just significantly better at hiding it in front of her important valued business clients.

"Just... please be on your best behavior, alright? And wear something nice. A sweater, maybe? You do own nice clothes, don't you?" His mother goads as she finishes organizing the gigantic black binder open on the bed sheets in front of her before she slaps it shut with a satisfied grin that stretches the bandage on her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Katsuki snorts with a condescending roll of his eyes. "Want me to get my finest jewels out of the damn vault, too? Maybe hunt down an endangered cougar and wear its scent as fresh cologne?"

His mother's hand comes up to her face again, but her shoulders are shaking. "How did I ever raise such a charming gentleman?"

"Beats me, you're a fucking bitch," Katsuki counters easily as he lumbers up to his feet. He reaches for the binder but his mother is quicker and she snatches it up to hold it close to her chest.

She's giving him her most serious look now.

Ugh. That means they're officially done fucking around.

"I mean it, Katsuki. This client was a referral - I really need them to have a good experience," his mother repeats for what must be the seventy-billionth fucking time.

Katsuki melts back into his chair with a disgruntled whine that could have come from a five-year-old's temper tantrum. "The fuck can't you just reschedule this shit for if it's so damn important?"

"Because the couple needs to be married and on a flight in exactly two months. Do you know how fucking long it takes to plan a wedding, Katsuki?"

He does. "No."

His mother smacks the binder against the top of his head before she finally holds it out for him. "Don't screw this up, wise-ass."

How fucking encouraging.

Katsuki snatches the binder from her with another overly-dramatic roll of his eyes as he shoves himself up to his feet again and starts for the door. "Hope you get a bed sore, devil woman."

"Love you too, you little shit!"

-

His mother's office building is way too fucking fancy for Katsuki's taste. Expensive wooden flooring and tall ceilings and Rome-inspired pillars and some kind of old fucking statue of a half-naked woman right at the damn entrance with her stone breasts all hanging out.

Was this supposed to be a wedding planner's studio or some kind of fucking art museum? Katsuki can't even tell anymore.

He supposes that it has been a pretty long time since he's last been back here, and he can't ignore the fact that his mother's dumb business has come a long way from being the dinky little hole in the wall that it used to be.

Still, the statue feels like a bit of an over kill. Katsuki can't stop staring at it. Where the fuck were her arms? And why did her eyes look like that?

Were they... moving?

His body tilts dangerously far to one side as he eyes up at the woman's face with a squinted gaze. She was definitely tracking his movements - this statue was seriously fucking cursed or something. It probably came to fucking life at night, creepy ass piece of -

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Katsuki nearly staggers over his own two feet as he hurries to try and right himself before he whips around to spot the culprit who has so suddenly decided to sneak up on him.

"Hah?! Fucking hell, make some damn noise next time!" Katsuki reprimands with a harsh glare. He hates being fucking spooked like that.

The man in front of him grins a wide, toothy smile. "Sorry, man! I didn't mean to startle you! Uh, is this... the Bakugou's Wedding Studio -"

Oh shit. This is the guy that Katsuki is supposed to meet with today?

His sharp gaze takes in the plain jeans with the rip in the left knee and the dark V-neck combo that he's wearing; a pretty casual get up considering the dumbass shirt and tie that Katsuki's hag of a mother seemed to think that he desperately needed to wear for this. She was so full of shit sometimes.

Fuck, was this guy still talking?

"- so I hope that's okay and everything!"

Katsuki has no idea what he's going on about, but it doesn't matter. He waves a dismissive hand around in the air, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Red. You ready to do this or what?"

The guy blinks in surprise at him and one of the hands he's had pushed down into the pockets of his jeans suddenly reaches up to touch at the stupid spikes of red hair styled on the top of his head before he laughs boisterously.

"Alright, a man of action - I like that! Let's do it!" Red cheers, thrusting a fist up in the air and beaming another ridiculously happy grin. What a fucking nut job.

Katsuki leads him around the creepy statue lady and across the wooden floors of the studio towards a set of black leather couches set up in the corner by the large bay windows overlooking the street below. He slaps the binder on the table and flops down onto the couch before he mindlessly flips it open to the first page to pull out all of the dumb introductory forms.

The faster they get through this shit, the quicker Katsuki can go home and take these uncomfortable clothes off - gotta keep his eyes on the prize.

Red plops down on the couch next to him, still smiling that mega-watt grin. Katsuki is used to seeing that stupid fucking look on his mother's more sappy clients' faces.

It's all about the fucking love, right?

Definitely not about all of the money.

"This place is really nice," Red compliments unnecessarily as his eyes sweep across the studio. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Katsuki snorts at that. And then he rehears the question in the back of his mind and he cackles again because holy shit - that's the funniest fucking thing anyone has ever asked him. "Hell no. Just filling in for my mom or whatever. 'S her place, not mine."

"Oh, are you... not a wedding planner then, or?"

Shit. Backtrack - fucking backtrack.

"Hah? 'Course I am! You think I come here and do this shit for fun or something?" Katsuki snarks back as nonchalantly as he can. He really needs to just get this over with.

"Where's your wife-to-be, anyway? Shouldn't she be here nitpicking all of this shit over with you?" Katsuki grumbles absentmindedly as he yanks out a pen and finally settles down to do quite possibly the most boring thing to have ever been invented.

"Nah man, I just told you! My ah... husband-to-be had something come up at work, so he couldn't make it in today," Red explains again anyway, entirely unperturbed with having to repeat himself. "It's just me!"

Gay? Huh. Katsuki wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Whatever, just make sure he doesn't call and complain if he doesn't like what you pick out," Katsuki warns as he flips the pages of the binder to the first horrible section of a long list of equally horrible things; the venues.

"Don't worry about it, dude!" Red reassures with a confident thumb thrust into his puffed out chest. "I've got a great sense of style!"

-

So.

That was a fucking lie.

Red's got something - but it ain't style. A brain tumor, maybe.

"You want to do what?" Katsuki can't help but ask incredulously. His pen stalls in his casual note-taking as he raises an eyebrow and lifts his cheek off his clenched fist to better stare at the other man so that he knows just how ridiculous his dumb request sounds.

"You don't think that'd be awesome?!" Red expels with just as much disbelief, sitting up now with his hands thrown out wide in the air as though to adamantly argue his point. "First the ceremony, then the reception - or whichever one comes first, I guess I already forgot - but then, boom! Paintball tournament! It's fool proof, man!"

They've been at this for two hours now and Katsuki thinks there must be something seriously wrong with this guy. He's kind of starting to think that he isn't even really engaged. There's just no fucking way. He's literally a child with adult spending money.

"My mom ain't gonna plan a fucking paintball tournament for your wedding, I'll tell you that right now," Katsuki snorts with a further bewildered shake of his head at the very idea of it as he resettles his cheek against his fist again.

Red beams a mischievous sort of grin as he casually leans over to elbow Katsuki in the bicep. "Buuut your mom's not my wedding planner, you are! Right? C'mon, I can totally tell that you're way cooler than she is!"

Huh. Red's got some kind of a point there. Maybe not a complete one, or a valid one, but it's the start of something intriguing for sure.

Katsuki flicks his pen around in his fingers as he entertains this woefully horrible temptation to fuck with this painfully typical wedding design that Red's husband-to-be seems to be so dead set on having. Katsuki can't help but agree with the idiotic manchild; maybe that's what weddings need more of these days in order to be less shitty.

Some kind of entirely chaotic activity that causes real physical harm.

Besides, his mother did tell him that he was meant to do whatever it was that the customer wanted - whatever they ask for, just tell them you can do it and then figure it out from there! - and this overly enthusiastic redhead sitting on the other end of this leather couch from him wants a fucking paintball tournament at his wedding.

This temporary gig might be a lot more interesting than Katsuki originally gave it credit for.

"Alright, Red... you've piqued my interest," Katsuki concedes cautiously as he pens in a little added note at the bottom of the seventeenth modified color scheme they had finally settled on. "You want a paintball tournament, I'll give you a fucking paintball tournament."

"Woah, really?!" Red lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at that. "Oh man, you must be the best wedding planner ever!"

Katsuki tries not to look too smug. What a horrible fucking compliment, anyway. But still - Red's got the right idea. Katsuki was the fucking best.

He might not mind working with this idiot for the remainder of this project, after all.

"What other kind of crazy junk you want?"

"Oh, dude! I've got lots of ideas!"

-

A wedding generally takes anywhere from 200-500 hours to fully plan and execute. Katsuki's currently got about 10 1/2 logged with Red over the course of their past few meetings together, which only left a bare minimum of around 189.5 more hours to go.

Still, it wasn't really as painstaking or horribly boring as Katsuki had been expecting it to be. Despite the moron's horrendous sense of style and apparent fucking colorblindness, he did have a shit ton of incredibly dumb wedding event ideas to spout off endlessly about, and Katsuki was almost having trouble narrowing down which horribly inappropriate ones to choose to include in the draft proposal from their long ass list.

He couldn't believe how much he found that he really didn't mind walking into his mother's wedding studio in preparation for another long session with the weirdest client he's ever had the misfortune of meeting. This wedding was gonna be fucking awesome if Katsuki had anything to do with it.

His unusually optimistic attitude about this unfavorable situation changed rather abruptly when Red finally walked through the door a half an hour later, though. He wasn't alone this time.

Red's Fiancé was... not what Katsuki expected.

Not that Katsuki had really been expecting much of anything. To be honest, he'd almost forgotten that the dumbass even had one. But of course, it takes two to fucking tango, and here the lovebirds are now sitting on the opposite couch together from the one Katsuki had chosen.

"I read over the draft proposal last night and - " Red's Fiancé gives Red some kind of half-sympathetic/half-grimaced look. " - while I appreciate the eccentricity, I really don't think my family wants us to have a Slip N' Slide at our wedding."

Your family is fucking lame then, Middle Part. Katsuki crosses out the Slip N' Slide note in his binder with a disapproving scowl.

Red's face burns with a bright flush of color as he reaches a sheepish hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I went a little overboard with it. It was just really fun planning everything out with - "

Red blinks for a moment as his face smooths out before he glances in Katsuki's direction for what might have been the very first time since they had arrived. "Oh, I guess I've never really gotten your name before!"

Katsuki shifts in his seat and doesn't look up. "Katsuki."

"Right, Katsuki! It was really fun planning with him these past few sessions; he's gotta be the best one in the city or something - I was getting so excited for the wedding!"

Tch. Katsuki was sorta getting excited to see all the tom-fuckery come together, too. But whatever.

"I'm sure it'll be just as exciting," Middle Part tries to satiate like a parent calming down an obnoxious child with a condescending pat on Red's knee. The tone grates on Katsuki's nerves for reasons he can't even begin to come up with.

Middle Part turns back to Katsuki, then. "But in a more... traditional sense, if you know what I mean."

Katsuki's eyes narrow down at the binder in his lap, but he knows he's got a job to fucking do - his mother would have a damn heart attack or something if he didn't do what he was supposed to be doing right now - so he simply tears out the draft proposal form, crumples it up into a little ball, and tosses it carelessly over his head to land somewhere on the wooden floor behind his couch.

Back to boring old fucking business.

"Oh, I'd also like to go over the color scheme one more time? I'm more of a pastel person and the reds are all very... bright."

-

Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He hates that he can't stop thinking about it, but that doesn't make it any less true that he can't stop thinking about it.

Katsuki didn't know up-from-down about Red - fuck, he hadn't even been paying close enough attention to have ever caught the guy's real name - but something about their session yesterday with Middle Part didn't sit right with him.

It was all-in-all a very typical meeting. His mother would have been fucking ecstatic with the outcome. They changed the color scheme to something more pastel spring-timey and replaced the red Hibiscus flowers with some boring ass Tulips and they even had to go back and pick a different venue cause Middle Part had some kind of damn phobia of the fucking water or some shit and truly seemed to believe that the scenic lake-side cabin property that Red had chosen out on the outskirts of the city would be too much of a distraction for him to focus on The Big Day.

Pretty much everything that they had planned out together in their earlier sessions had to be changed. And throughout the entire fucking process, Red didn't say another damn word the whole time.

Not to give his opinion. Not to express any kind of interest or growing excitement. Not even to protest. He merely sat there with that plastered on goofy grin, with Middle Part's hand wrapped tight on his knee, and didn't say a single damn thing.

Katsuki can't stop fucking thinking about it. When he'd first met Red, he was certain that guy's COD was going to be suffocation from forgetting how to take a pause inbetween his incessant ramblings long enough to remember to breathe.

It wasn't even any of Katsuki's damn business. He knew that. And he didn't fucking care about the relationship dynamic of a newly-engaged couple that he didn't know and hadn't even met for more than a few hours. It just felt like such a big damn fucking waste of time because obviously this was all going to end in some kind of a divorce.

Middle Part was stiff and proper and had a huge stick up his ass, and Red was just so loud and expressive and wanted a fucking rock-climbing wall at his damn wedding. It was like watching some suburban soccer mom tame a real-life Rolling Stones Rockstar or some shit.

How did those two fuckers even meet in the first place? Fall in love? Get engaged? It didn't make any sense to Katsuki, and it was really starting to piss him off.

During their next session together a few days later (sans Middle Part again, who just had to run off and attend some hoity-toity business garden party or something else that happened to be more important than planning his damn wedding), Katsuki literally couldn't stop himself from asking, "You really want a boring ass wedding like this?"

Red stops mid-babble with his glass of champagne poised at his lips that Mitsuki had vehemently demanded that Katsuki supply for this next meeting - because how could he have ever forgotten to do such an important part of this overall incredibly lame process?

"Oh, I mean... it's not really supposed to be an actual party. It's more of a serious thing, you know?" Red tries pathetically to explain the purpose of a wedding to a(n unlicensed) wedding planner, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I guess I got a little carried away with it all before. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything, I told you I'm no good at planning this kind of stuff..."

There it is again. That incessant needling in Katsuki's gut that he'd noticed also happened when Middle Part had placed that hand on Red's knee and didn't let go of it for the entire time that they were sitting together on that damn couch.

Katsuki purses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything asshole-ish, because he's sure that one of the rules to being The Best Wedding Planner Ever was not to insult the Fiancé.

"That's why I really need your help here, man!" Red continues on, unbothered by or just too plain stupid to recognize Katsuki's silence on the topic. "You're so talented; I just know you'll make it the best day ever!"

It slips out before Katsuki can even think about stopping it. "Shouldn't that be your new husband's job or something?"

Red blinks over at him in surprise at such a statement, and Katsuki blinks down at the binder in his lap because - fuck - even he knows that was way totally out of line.

"Let's just fucking finish picking out the - "

It's the movement that he spots out of his peripherals as Red leans forward to place his glass of champagne on the table that causes Katsuki to stiffen and finally snap his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the binder.

Shit, Red doesn't look good. His brows are furrowed and there's an uncharacteristically obvious frown on his lips as he watches the bubbles in the champagne glass float up to the top. Katsuki waits with held breath for him to do something more, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually Red looks at him again and offers him an entirely forced apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm not really feeling that great today. I think I'm gonna have to cut this session short, if that's okay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki's big ass mouth has gone and done it again. He doesn't even have enough time to try and salvage anything or react to such a sudden departure before Red is leaping up from the couch and scurrying across the studio towards the front doors.

Katsuki watches him leave with his pen hanging limp in his hand and his mouth slightly parted.

His mother was totally going to fucking ream him for fucking this one up.

-

"You said what?!"

Katsuki tosses an exasperated hand up in the air and glares harder from where he's standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. He hasn't even taken his denim jacket off yet. "You didn't have to fucking meet this guy, alright?! He was pretentious and boring and - "

Mitsuki snorts with an angry roll of her eyes. "Newsflash, you fucking psychopath - you don't have to like the clients that you work for, you just have to do your damn job! He's not your Fiancé, this isn't your wedding!"

"I fucking know that! He just really fucking pissed me the fuck off!" Katsuki yells back, red-faced and frantic as he forces fingers to tangle through his explosive hair.

"You have to fix this, Katsuki - "

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Why's it gotta be my responsibility to convince this guy to marry that total fucking d-bag? It's gonna end in a divorce, anyway!"

"That's not even any of your fucking concern, moron! Let the divorce attorney deal with all of that crap!"

"It's not fair for Red!" Katsuki continues to argue adamantly none-the-less, slapping the back of his hand into the palm of the other for emphasis.

Mitsuki blinks over at him now, eyebrows scrunching in the center of her face and - shit, he doesn't like that look she's giving him at all. "Who the fuck is Red?"

"T-the fucking guy! The one I've been dealing with this whole damn time, the - "

"The guy who wanted to have a dunk-tank at his wedding?!" Mitsuki asks incredulously. "If you ask me, that's not fair to anyone getting married."

Katsuki glowers over at her as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and curls them into tight fists to try and pull himself together.

"Least it would've been fucking entertaining to watch..." he grumbles bitterly, but fuck, he knows the old hag has a damn point.

Mitsuki's looking at him especially closely now and it's making Katsuki squirm under her laser-focused scrutiny. He clenches his jaw to combat the uncomfortable bout of feelings rumbling in his stomach and flings his hands (still secure in his pockets) out once more in a baiting sort of gesture.

"Fucking what?" Katsuki spits defensively.

"Oh... my god," Mitsuki leans back into the pillows on her king-sized bed like she's just been given the most horrible news. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking client, Katsuki."

Katsuki's entire face scrunches up unpleasantly at that accusation like he's just swallowed an entire lemon. "The fuck?! Are you outta your goddamn mind!?"

"Are you?! Katsuki, he's engaged!" She whips one of her purple satin pillows at him. "You're supposed to be planning his wedding!"

Katsuki's hands are too tangled up in his pockets to prevent the assault and the pillow smacks stupidly against his chest and tumbles to the floor at his socked feet. "That's what I was trying to fucking do!"

"Really? Cause from what your dumbass just told me, it sounds a lot more like you've taken some kind of damn interest in this fucking guy and want to ruin his marriage before it's even started!"

Katsuki blinks at her because he doesn't even know what to fucking say in response to that. It's so totally outlandish and stupid. He's not fucking in love with Red - he doesn't even know that asshole! They've been in the same room together for approximately 25 hours - 4 1/2 of which Red hadn't even spoken a single damn word for!

Mitsuki heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. It's like she can't even fucking look at him right now. "Just go, Katsuki. I should've never fucking asked you to do this for me in the first place."

Fuck.

Katsuki shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He knows he's an asshole, and he knows his mother's a batty fucking bitch, but that's why it always makes his stomach twist so uncomfortably whenever she looks at him like that - or rather, whenever she doesn't look at him like that.

Assholes needed to stick together, damnit!

"Mom, I'm fucking sorry or whatever, I just - "

"I know. Now leave. There's leftover soup in the fridge. Grab some when you go." Mitsuki picks up the magazine she had been perusing through before he'd so brutishly trampled his way into her room and she starts reading it again like he wasn't still standing there staring at her, and that was just the end of that.

Katsuki had fucked it all up. Someone's marriage, his mother's new client, her expectations of him - all of it. Fucked it right up from the ground up.

He clenches his jaw again and exhales a hard, agitated breath through his flaring nostrils before he snatches up the pillow on the floor and chucks it onto the bed as he stomps over to the door and finally leaves.

-

Katsuki has only ever bought flowers twice before.

Once when he got suspended from school for getting into a fight, and once when he totaled his piece of shit car trying to out race some idiot who had egged him on at a red light. Both times his mother had received them with the very same reactions - an incredulous stare, a long thoughtful pause, a heavy reluctant sigh, and forgiveness.

Lilacs were her favorites - and Katsuki only fucking knew that cause his old man used to drill it incessantly into his damn head all while growing up before that asshole had to go and die of brain cancer. ‘Whenever your mother is angry with me, I always buy her Lilacs. They soften her right up!’

That was the only reason why Katsuki was clutching onto such an embarrassing collection of recently purchased Lilacs as he pushed his way through the door of the Bakugou’s Wedding Studio a few weeks later.

He gave his mother time to cool off, and he went and got the damn flowers, and now he just needed to find the batty bitch.

There were quite a few people here today milling about on the furniture and perusing through the catalogues - some guy sitting next to his soon-to-be-wife was ogling the damn statue like he’d never fucking seen boobies before - and honestly, Katsuki would have turned around and walked right back into the street if he hadn’t spotted his mother’s head bobbing by somewhere in the background of all the fucking chaos.

Alright Katsuki, it’s fucking show time.

He regrips the Lilacs in his sweaty fingers as he maneuvers through a crowd of bridesmaids who are all screeching about something or another at a decibel that only fucking dogs can hear, before he finds himself suddenly face-to-face with his mother’s urgently frantic energy.

They both stop at the same time and stare at each other for a moment. Mitsuki breaks the silence with a click of her tongue again the roof of her mouth and a sharp turn of her gaze onto anything else in the room that isn’t him.

“I’m kind of busy right now - “ She tries to breeze past him but Katsuki just steps in her way and prevents her from leaving.

“Here.” He thrusts the Lilacs up into the space between them. His jaw tightens and he tries not to think about how fucking ridiculous he must look right now.

His mother’s list of reactions is consistent, at least; an incredulous stare that drifts down to eye at the Lilac bundle, a softening of her features as she takes in all of the different little purple petals - she’s probably thinking about dad, just like Katsuki does every time he has to wander into that damn flower shop on the other side of the city to purchase these stupid shits - and then... a heavy sigh.

She reaches out and takes them from him, and his hands dive back into his pockets purely on instinct and flustered nerves. Mitsuki looks up from the Lilacs and catches eyes with him again.

“They didn’t go through with it,” Mitsuki informs him. As if he even fucking cares.

“Hm.” He grunts back in some kind of forced response.

Mitsuki sighs again, softer this time, and runs the pad of her finger along the lush flowers. “Well... I’m sure business will be fine without them. I really wasn’t expecting such a rush like this today, so - “

“Uh... hello.” A voice interrupts from somewhere outside of their private family bubble.

Katsuki and Mitsuki both whip around and - holy motherfucking shit - it’s Red.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plaid shirt today, and his obnoxious spikes are loose and under the protection of a bandana. He grins sheepishly at the pair of them, his cheeks are already dusting with flushed color. “A-again, I guess. I just wanted to come by and apologize for wasting so much of your family’s time with... everything. I really hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Wait, you’re Red?” Mitsuki chimes in before Katsuki can even rub two brain cells together enough to spark any kind of a thought.

“Huh?” Red blinks at her in confusion before suddenly he’s laughing so loudly that people’s heads are starting to turn in their direction. “Oh! Haha, yeah I am! You can call me Eijirou, if that’s easier for you. Red works fine too, though, I guess!”

Eijirou.

“Anyway,” Red clears his throat, and he looks uncertain as he shuffles his weight around restlessly. “I know it was a bit of a shit show, but I really want to make up for it! I know some people who are recently engaged and I recommended your studio to them! Katsuki was so great with everything, and my friend Denki really wants to do something with zip-lining for his wedding!”

“Zip-lining?! Look kid, I appreciate the business, really, but - “

Katsuki elbows her hard in the ribs with a sideways glare sharp enough to cut glass. His mother eyes him back and they stare at each other for a long time, having one of their infamous telepathic arguments, before Mitsuki throws her hands in the air in added exasperation.

“Zip-lining, touch-tank, hell, I’ll order some fucking panda bears from the local zoo if they want it,” she declares to the heavens above.

Before Katsuki has the chance to snap at her, one of the dog-whistle bridesmaids is summoning her over from the other side of the room, and his mother beelines it towards them in an obvious attempt to escape. Katsuki watches her leave with a scowl.

“I, uh,” Red clears his throat again, and it causes Katsuki to snap his gaze back onto him once more. “I actually stopped by earlier this week but you weren’t here. I was kind of hoping to catch you, I... wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki blinks at him in disbelief. “Hah?! For fucking what? Ruining your goddamn wedding?”

“Ruin it?” Red’s head shoots up from where he’d been intently watching the tips of his sneakers. “Dude, are you for real? You didn’t ruin anything, you saved it! You saved me! I was always taught growing up that a wedding had to be perfect, and beautiful, and professionally photographed. And I was always told how stressful it all was and I was really nervous to come here and try to figure it all out - but when I was planning my wedding with you, it was... fun! And exciting! I couldn’t wait for it to arrive so I could watch all of my friends and family having the best time together on the most important day of my life!”

Katsuki can really only think to blink at him again, because truly, there must be something wrong with this fucking idiot. Nobody in the history of ever has probably been this excited for a botched wedding.

“Anyway,” Red shifts again, grinning that sheepish smile of his that squints his eyes and makes the flush on his face that much more prominent. “I know I was like... just engaged a few weeks ago or whatever but... do you want to maybe go play paintball with me sometime?”

Holy shit. Red was fucking asking him out on a date. Is that what was fucking happening right now?

There must be something wrong with Katsuki, too, because - “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Red is beaming again, and Katsuki’s heart is racing in his chest like some kind of dumb prepubescent child, and Katsuki’s never been to a fucking wedding before, but if he can manage not to fucking screw this up just like everything else, then he already knows that his and Eijirou’s wedding is going to be the best fucking one in history.

He’s already planning on it.

-

Author’s Note:// AHBXHBAXA - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this dumb little short story! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never expected! <3

[grimoire-of-seven]

I have a crush on you

PROMPT :: “I have a crush on you..”

Rating: SFW

Words: 350-450 per character

Characters: Demon brothers + MC/Gender-Neutral Reader

Note: Thank you for the request! Although you didn’t specify which character, I took it upon myself to write for all of the demon brothers! It’s a little long so please continue reading under the cut!

LUCIFER

You stood your ground before him, eyes determined to express all these pent up emotions into words. When you arrived at the student council office, Lucifer was busy with several of the student council papers but insisted that he is listening to you.

“Lucifer,” You called out to the black-haired demon infront of you, hands clutching your Devildom Law book for courage, “I have a crush on you.”

“Hmm, yes,” He nodded his head almost automatically, his focus towards the papers unwavering, “You can put your term paper draft on my desk. I shall attend to that shortly after I finish this–”

“I said, ‘I have a crush on you’, Lucifer.” You repeated with a louder and much more resolute voice.

With that, his hands stopped mid-way through putting down one of the stacks. He directed his attention towards you, there was no semblance of an expression in his visage aside from its usual stoicism.

After that one second of shock, Lucifer then smiled at you with… was that pity or sadness in his– “…take that away.”

You gasped his statement, appalled that he dares to tell you how to deal with your feelings. You finally gathered the courage to tell him and he’s telling you to ‘take it away’?!

Within an instant, you made your way to his table and slammed your hand at his desk, “Now, listen here, you little shi–”

Wha-?!

He pulled your necktie with enough force that had you reeling towards him, the tips of your noses barely missing a millimeter.

“I’m just teasing.” He chuckled in delight, those piercing dark eyes staring at yours with such intensity that made your knees weak like jelly. “Time and time again, you amaze me with your honesty.”

Goosebumps trailed your arms as Lucifer’s hand caressed your cheek delicately. If he comes any closer, you’re most certain that he’ll hear the embarrassingly fast beating of your heart. “I like that.”

 MAMMON

“Plus four!” Mammon exclaimed in glee, slamming the card in the low coffee table. Before reaching to the deck for four more cards, the white-haired demon stopped you in your tracks and placed yet another identical card, “Another plus four! I change the cards to blue!”

“You can’t stack plus four cards! UNO tweeted that before–”

“We’re using local rules here, dummy, get with the program!” He smugly replied, smirking at you as you reach for eight cards. “Taste my reverse card!”

“Yikes,” You sighed at his beaming energy of mischief, placing a blue card down, “You sure play dirty…”

“I get to ask ya one truth or a dare if I win!” Mammon nodded eagerly at your words as if it’s a compliment to him. He removed another blue card from his deck and exclaimed, “UNO!”

“Greedy… you’re too greedy for victory.” You changed the colour of the cards to yellow in high hopes that his last card isn’t the same.

Please don’t be yellow–

“Got’cha!” Damn.

“Truth or dare?” He asked excitedly with the energy of a toddler on a sugar-high.

He would definitely ask something very private and embarrassing if you chose truth, given that he’s animatedly eager to get you to lose this round. With that in mind, you chose the lesser evil, “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell the truth!”

This stupid idiot… You sighed and nodded, “Fine. But give me the cards, I’ll shuffle it this time.”

“Who are you interested among the seven of us brothers?”

Ah, so that’s what this is. You chuckled, his earlier demeanor making much more sense with his ‘dare’. “No wonder you’re pumped up when I said we should higher the stakes.”

“Ya didn’t wanna bet money!”

“It’s an UNO game, man.”

“So, who is it?” He asked, leaning back to his sofa with crossed-arms as he waited for you to hand him his set of cards, “Maybe if you slide in some cash, I can help you get–”

“He’s quite cute.” You began, taking a card as a starter and waiting for Mammon to put down his first.

“Oh? So that counts out Asmo since he’d beautiful!”

“He makes me laugh a lot.” You smiled, “Reverse card, reverse card, plus four, change colour to yellow.”

“GAH! I don’t have any yellow!!!” Mammon twisted from his seat at the realization of his misfortune, seeing that you only have three cards remaining in your hand. “That can’t be Levi or Lucifer or Satan! Those guys would choke if they’re asked to share a joke. So, it’s either Beel or Belphie, huh!”

You shook your head at his words, placing down another card, “I have a crush on you, Mammon.”

“Wh–” He looked up at you with wide-eyes, “No! Q-Quit playin’ dirty! I ain’t fallin’ for that.”

“Reverse card, UNO,” You stared back at him, eyes never leaving his as you placed your last cards, “I win.”

LEVIATHAN

What does Ruri-chan have that you don’t?

Dejectedly wiping the said figurine with a damp towel, you asked that question to yourself.

You were summoned at Levi’s room earlier that day for some ‘important friend training’ to be facilitated by the purple-haired demon himself… only to find out that he’s cleaning his figures and needed a few more hands on deck.

Why does he like Ruri-chan so much? She’s a fictional character, for god’s sake!

“Hey, Levi,” You started, looking up from your task, “If I say I have a crush on you, what would you do?”

The man in question stared at you for a moment before erupting into a boisterous laughter. “LMFAO,” he spelled in glee, hands waving off your statement as if it’s a mere jest, “That’s the funniest joke I have ever heard from you in a long while lolol.”

“Take this seriously, Levi!” You wrung the damp towel in annoyance and weaponized it against your companion, hitting him by the leg with enough force to have him yelp in pain.

“OW, TF you doing? That hurts!” He rubbed his leg in attempt to stave off the stinging feeling, only to realize your reaction to his answer, “Wait, that wasn’t a joke?”

“Do I look like-?!”

“WTF!? That’s a horrible decision!” Levi exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes scanning your expression for some sort of… mischief in your eyes or a slightly wolfish grin.

But all he saw was that you were genuinely serious - about him and your feelings for him.  

“Why?” He breathed out the question, his head thinking of the times when you must’ve raised his intimacy close enough for you to drop that confession bomb on him, “Compared to Lucifer and Asmo, I’m not even the most handsome or popular character in this–”

“We’re not in a game.”

Levi went silent at your words.

Have you done it? Is this finally friendship over?

Panic began rising up your chest as he sat still, unmoving from his position. Before you can speak, he looked at you with a hopeful spark in his expression, “Then… does that mean I can like the main character, too?”

SATAN

Satan had offered to walk home with you together after hearing that Solomon is graciously tutoring you for certain RAD subjects – those that doesn’t exist in the human world. The blonde demon insisted that he doesn’t mind waiting for you given that there are still some things he has to do for the student council.

‘It sounds like an after-school date’, Solomon grinned at you before leaving. You swear, he’s got some sort of voodoo magic radar for your emotions.

Removing the thought of Solomon’s jests before you blush too hard, you thought of confessing to Satan before a certain someone runs his mouth about it. Should you…?

Yeah, it’s better to hear it from you than someone else – namely Solomon.

“Hey, Satan, I have a crush on you.” You told him, as casually as you can without breaking voice.

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you with disbelief. Satan opened his mouth to speak but stopped, taking a moment to think about his words, then simply asked, “Why…?”

Eh? “W-What do you mean ‘why’?”

You couldn’t really answer that. You’ve asked yourself a hundred times why you fell for a demon, the actual personification of Wrath itself, yet you can’t seem to find an answer for yourself. At least, you had no answers aside from… “I just really like you, Satan.”

He continued walking, you can feel the gears of his head turning as he oversees the situation in its logical perspective, “I’m a demon and you’re a human, need I remind you?”

That felt a pang on your chest, hearing him say it even though you are well aware of the fact.

Taking a deep breath to muster up the courage, you asked him for his final verdict, “So, you’re saying you don’t like me back?”

“Yes–!” He answered automatically, but then almost immediately denied, “Well, no.”

Huh. That’s quite confusing.

“I like you, too,” Satan smiled at you for a moment, “But things will be complicated if we think about this logically.”

Scratching the back of your head at his words, you couldn’t help yourself in saying, “When did love become a logical thing, though?”

He blushed at your words, hastening his walking speed to stop you from further seeing his reddened face, “S-Stop being too c-cute! I’m not lending you any more romance novels if you keep being so adorable!”

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus held your hand as if it was the most fragile thing in the world. With great precision, he coated your nails with an even layer of nail polish to match his wonderfully manicured ones.

People adore Asmodeus’ natural charm. What can you say? He’s absolutely flawless and drop-dead gorgeous.

Just thinking about the way his eyes sparkle at the news of Jeffrey Star’s new palette collection. The way he speaks excitedly whenever Prada presents their new line of designer bags. Hell, even talking about hand cream is a treat in itself whenever Asmodeus does it.

Look at you, absolutely whipped for this man and his undeniable charm.

He insists that you’re immune to his beauty yet you’re still attracted to him. It’s unfair to be this handsomely beautiful.

“Asmo, I think I have a crush on you.” You spouted out randomly, feeling his soft warm hands against yours.

“Of course, you do~” He replies as a matter-of-factly, “Everyone lusts over my magnificent–”

“I’m serious, Asmo.” You cut him off from his usual sugar-sweet line, “I like you.”

“Alright, humour me, love,” He put aside the nail polish and intertwined his hands in yours, his face closing towards yours dangerously, “If I accept your confession and we become a couple, what would you like to do with me…?”

With heated cheeks, you opened your mouth to speak but he sensually placed an index finger by your lips, he whispered with that hedonistic tone of his, “In private, that is…”

In private?! Gosh, he’s asking for a lot!

Suddenly feeling parched, you gulp at the thought of what you wanted out of him if he ever accepts you as a partner. Eyes flitting anywhere except towards his, you tried your best to hold your trembling body before him - backing down now might show your lack of conviction towards him, after all.

You mumbled softly, hoping that he can hear you through your closeness, “…ds with you.”

“Tsk tsk,” The peach-haired demon grinned as he clicked his tongue, “I can’t hear you with such a silent voice. You can do better than that~”

“M-Maybe hold h-hands with you… or c-cuddle if y-you want.” You repeated a bit more audibly, your blush deepening by the second, “I-It’d be fun to go o-on a café w-with just the two of us, too.”

“KYAAA~! That’s so wholesome and adorable!!!” Asmodeus squealed in delight at your answer, throwing himself at you in a tight embrace, “Alright, I’ll be your boyfriend and we’ll do all those together~! This is so exciting!”

“No!!! Asmo, my nails!”

BEELZEBUB

From whatever ‘reliable’ and expensive source you’ve heard [definitely not Mammon], Beel apparently loves a certain sandwich menu from Hell’s Kitchen. Unfamiliar with Devildom’s cuisine and Hell’s Kitchen’s menu, you were faced with a dilemma.

The question would be… which one of the three sandwiches in the menu he likes most?

This frustrating situation made you want to curse Mammon for scamming your 100Grimm with this useless piece of information. Sighing at the thought of having to buy all three just for good measure, you saw the Avatar of Gluttony himself walking pass the restaurant.

“Beel!” You exclaimed to get his attention, waving at the tall ginger-haired demon as he looked towards your general direction, “I have a question for you!”

He greeted you with that heart-melting smile of his, eager to answer any inquiries from you. You whisked him away from the street and into the shop, asking, “Which of the sandwiches in the menu do you like most?”

“What for?”

“Just answer the question, please~”

“The one with the tartare and cheese…” He replied, eyes dreamy at the menu board, most possibly captivated by the memory of having such a treat. Beel snapped from his reverie, explaining to you why it’s his most favoured, “It’s like your human food ‘cheeseburger’!”

You nodded and ordered the exact sandwich for him, much to his surprise.

It’s like a date! You inwardly screamed, mentally giving yourself a high-five for taking advantage of this sweet opportunity.

“Let’s split up the sandwich, as thank you for buying me food…”

How sweet! The thought made you want to curl up in the floor and cry in happiness, but resisted, “Come on, let me treat you once in a while!”

You both took a seat on the less conspicuous booths of the store. As Beel ate with glee, you chatted him up, content at the moment both of you were sharing.

“Why’d you *munch* even buy me food?”

“I like you!” You answered without a sliver of a doubt, carried too much at the connection you were sharing at the time. Blinking once… twice, you realized what you’ve done.

Well, fu–

“This food sure is great,” Beel avoided looking at you and continued eating, his face noticeably red from his blushing cheeks.

Groaning in defeat, you buried your face in your hands. It’d be rude to suddenly take back what you’ve said. Stupid me, stupid, stupid–

“I thought I’m hearing things because I’m still hungry.” The ginger-haired demon explained, his hands taking yours and peeling them off from your heated face, “You’re like this sandwich, you know that?”

“W-What…?”

“It’s my favourite, just as you’re my favourite person to be with!”

BELPHEGOR

You stared at Belphegor’s sleeping face, so peaceful and at ease.

It’s hard to think of him as a demon when he’s especially languid like this.

He had invited you to watch a movie that Levi suggested, only to doze off within fifteen minutes of the production, his head perfectly placed by your lap. Deciding that the Avatar of Sloth would rather sleep than watch, you let him sleep to his heart’s content.

The moment the movie ended, you didn’t notice that your lap had fallen asleep with him. Great.

You poked his cheek, seeing if he’ll wake up. “Belphie~” You cooed, “Belphie, wake up… My thighs has fallen asleep with you~”

“Fiv.. m’nutes…” He stirred, making himself much more comfortable on your lap and on the sofa.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You sighed in affection, smiling at his sleeping visage. Similar to Belphegor, you also made yourself comfortable on the sofa despite the stinging feeling by your thighs, “Alright, five more minutes, but only because I like you.”

To your surprise, Belphie spoke again, “Say that again.”

“I said you can have five more minutes, Belphie.”

“No, the second part…”

He heard that?!

You gulped, eyes avoiding his as you slowly repeated, “B-B… Because I like you.”

The raven-haired demon closed his eyes once, turning away from you, “I must be dreaming.” And within seconds, he has fallen asleep again just like that.

“No, Belphie, don’t sleep!” You stood up at his reaction to such an important confession, only to remember that he was formerly sleeping on your lap.

WHOOPS.

“Ow,” He rubbed his head after being unceremoniously thrown out of the sofa, sitting up groggily from all of the commotion, “Okay, so it’s not a dream.”

You sat beside him on the floor and rubbed his head as well, apologizing for it, “Why would think that, though?”

He looked away with a blush, “Because it’s too good to be true…”

[ddaenggtan]

midnight wishes | knj [M]

Granny Park's Gossip:

That boy. Never met anyone as prone to disaster as he is while being so damned smart, except maybe that roommate of his. The two of them could probably cure cancer if they wanted to, but you leave them alone for more than a few seconds and you’re liable to come back to disaster. Jiminie did say they’ve been acting a little different, though, maybe they finally wised up and made things official instead of just humping like bunnies around that apartment of theirs. Oh, am I not supposed to say that?

pairing } namjoon x reader 

word count } 10.3k { also on ao3

genre } Fluff, Smut, the smallest possible dash of angst; FWB au, Roommates au, coworkers au, slight idiots to lovers but like. lowkey. 

warnings } smut, the most smut, all the smut. Namjoon In Glasses bc that deserves its own tag. there’s multiple smutty parts, several less explicit and then one very very super explicit so for those: oral female, oral male, fingering, deepthroating, protected sex, unprotected sex, mention of semi-public sex, mentions of a sir kink, some very accidental cum eating that is hilarious and disgusting all at once. Namjoon and Slick are both complete and utter idiots, like it’s genuinely a miracle that they’ve lived this long, especially when paired together. 

{ The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist } 

a/n } hello it is i with yet another fic. it’s done. i. have a lot of emotions bUT that’s neither here nor there. This is part of The Snowball Effect collab, and while it can be read as a standalone, all the fics end in the same spot and there are so many crossovers that it legitimately hurts to think about for too long, so for the best and funniest and fluffiest experience, we recommend that you read all of them in order!! Special shoutout to ashley, kristi, and ryn (@taehyungforreal, @stutterfly, and @fortunexkookie​, respectively) for letting me part of this wonderful adventure. i’m more honored than i could ever say with words, and i’m grateful every day that i got the chance to work with all of you on this absolutely phenomenal collab. for those of you who are just now seeing this, i implore you to read the others, as they are literal light years better than this, and i could not possibly live up to the absolute beauty of the other authors in this collab, but i still hope you enjoy my shiny garbage child aka this fic.

The first time you ever saw Kim Namjoon was on your very first day at the lab where you both work. You won't ever forget it, not because he's the walking embodiment of beauty nor because he's the most intelligent person you've ever met besides yourself. No, that day stays firmly implanted in your memory because that was the day the two of you nearly got fired for setting the building on fire.

In a genetics lab. 

You don't even work with chemicals. Maybe if you did, they would have been more understanding, but you don't and instead, everyone was completely flabbergasted that the two of you very nearly destroyed the building because you tried to reheat your leftover Chinese food - and really, how perfect is it that he also prefers the place across town instead of on the corner, and that he eats all the vegetables you pick out of your rice while you eat the eggrolls he isn't a fan of - in the microwave at the same time. Sure, your IQ is close to 300 when combined, but also, how are you supposed to remember that the bottom part of the takeout is made of foil? You were trying to single out a gene sequence that might help cancer research. Microwaves were not important. 

Until it exploded a little and set the fire suppression systems off in all the labs and affected several billion dollars worth of research. 

Honestly, the two of you are lucky you still have your jobs.

Less lucky that the insurance company wouldn't pay for the entire cost so both you and Namjoon had to take pretty severe pay cuts to help cover the costs.

Even less lucky that it means you could no longer afford your apartment by yourself and subsequently had to try to find a roommate in less than a week, which the internet is not helpful for, it doesn't matter what your coworkers say.

Which really just highlights that it's your own fault that you're in this situation in the first place, you think as you slam back another shot. It's been months, and yes, you found a roommate, and yes , things between the two of you are working better than you could have imagined, but god , at what cost?

You catch a glimpse of dimples heading your way and down the rest of the Kamikaze that you've been nursing all night. You might regret that later, the alcohol might make you do something you'd never do otherwise, but you can always pretend you don't remember. Besides, it's so much harder to handle Namjoon while you're completely sober; you never quite know what to say or what to do.

He doesn't bother to sit in the empty stool beside you, just slides into the space between you and it and lets one arm rest casually on the back of your barstool as he leans in to be heard over the live band that's playing. You don't look at him, you don't trust yourself to look at him, not with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone. You know he looks deliciously rumpled. You're entirely too familiar with the sight.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks. You shrug even as you start pulling your coat on, doing your best to ignore the way the heat of his breath brushed over your neck in the way that always gets you hot and bothered. "We don't have to if you don't want to," He says quickly, but you wave him off.

"No, it's fine, I promise. I'm not enjoying the band as much as I thought I would anyway."

When the ride you summoned stops at your apartment building, Namjoon pays and follows you up. The alcohol has started seeping into your bloodstream, and for a moment you regret that last drink. You're not drunk, not really, but you're on the farther side of tipsy and thoughts are swirling in your head that you wish would go somewhere else. Plus you're really fucking hungry now, and also kinda tired, and you're really glad tomorrow's Saturday so you can sleep in.

"What's got you in your head?" Namjoon asks as you fumble to unlock the door. You just shrug noncommittally, unwilling to tell him about it. He doesn't pry either, just sets to work pulling leftover tacos out of the fridge and sticking them in the microwave, remembering at the last second to take the plastic off the top so your food doesn't get coated in melted saran wrap. The two of you eat in relative silence before you manage to make yourself go into your room and strip out of your work clothes and then slide under the covers.

You don't listen as he goes into the room across the hall, you don't listen as the shower starts up, you don't listen at the off-key singing that he does. You don't. You can't let yourself, because then your drunk ass won't be able to keep your mouth shut the next time you see him - as you're both eating breakfast tomorrow, probably - and you'll say some super embarrassing shit like "hey I know it's partially my fault you couldn't afford your rent and you know I'm really grateful that you moved in with me, but you're also like hot as the surface of the sun and your dimples are really cute too, please fuck me stupid, I'm literally begging you."

Because that's the issue with living and working with Namjoon. There is no escape. Before you could come home and masturbate in peace while thinking about how his chest looks so utterly perfect in those button-ups, and how the muscles in his forearm flex when he's got his sleeves rolled up, and how his jaw does that muscle clench thing whenever he's focused on something.

But no. Now he lives with you , and not only are you both on the same schedules and therefore he’s never not home when you are, therefore depriving you of your precious Alone Time, but! You get a front-row view to how he looks in the mornings, with his hair all messy, and how he always forgets that the flavor packet goes in the ramen after you cook it, and how he bundles up every time he goes on walks with Moni, and-

The door to the bathroom creaks open and you force your eyes not to close. You inspect the stuccoed ceiling the entire time it takes his footsteps to make it into his room because otherwise, you're just going to remember that first week after he moved in, when he would have to go to his room with just a towel around his waist because his clothes were in boxes and he hadn't unpacked and he'd forgotten to take anything in the bathroom with him.

The memory of his absolutely fucking ridiculous pectorals dripping with water and his god damn superb biceps flexed and delicious-looking, none of it hidden under the slightly-too-big shirts he wears to work...it haunts you. To this day.

The sound of his door closing echoes through the hall and into your room. It’s through an incredibly impressive force of will that you don’t imagine what he’s doing right now, just across the hall. You resolutely do not imagine him sliding that towel from around his waist and revealing the gorgeous glistening golden thighs that strain against his work khakis so wonderfully. Nor do you think of the way he twists his neck to pop it while he does his after-shower stretches - because that’s a normal thing that normal people totally do - and you absolutely are not thinking of the way the scent of sandalwood and steam trails after him when he’s freshly showered and you are definitively not thinking about-

A loud, high-pitched moan followed by the slapping of skin on skin echoes through the apartment, jolting you upright and out of your thoughts as you stare in shock at the back of your bedroom door. 

Something thuds against the carpeted floor of Namjoon’s room and the sound abruptly cuts off. The silence that follows is deafening, and your ears ring with it. 

Surely….surely he wasn’t….

A thought, unbidden and cursed, flits through your mind before you can stop it. You can’t even blame the residual alcohol in your body for the way you stand and open your bedroom door, or how you slip your super soft silk robe over your shoulders and tie it loosely around your waist, nor for the way you take the two steps to stand in front of Namjoon’s, but you absolutely blame your quickly-returning sobriety for the way you hesitate in front of it. 

He’s going to say no, anyway, so what’s the harm? Things are awkward for a day or two and then we move on, right?

You knock before you can talk yourself out of it. It takes a few minutes, but Namjoon does eventually open the door. His chest is still bare but he’s got on the soft-looking plaid pajama pants that you adore, albeit they are on backwards , and his face is flushed with color. 

You're 98% sure that it's because he just had his hand around his cock. You're significantly less sure if you hate or love the fact that you know that. 

“Hey,” You say awkwardly. 

“Hey,” He responds, just as awkward. 

You both stand there for a second while you work up the courage to ask what’s been going around and around in your mind. 

“I just heard that thud and got worried,” is what eventually makes it out. Namjoon’s face flushes further, and his nose scrunches in the cutest way. “Just...wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know. Dead. Haha.”

He smiles at your laugh, even though it’s dead and humorless, and warmth blooms in your chest. 

“I’m alright. Sorry for any, uh…” He squints, clearly searching for the word he wants to use that won’t immediately give him away - like the entire apartment building hadn’t heard that noise. “Disturbances.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine!” You tell him, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was just. Uh. Y’know how bonobos will often have recreational sex with non-monogamous partners just because they’re bored or as a way to work out the tension between members of the unit-groups and they enjoy said recreational sex, even though there’s no real emotional attachment to the other parties involved?”

Namjoon stares at you for a long, silent moment. 

“Yeah, I know about bonobos,” He eventually says. “I didn’t know that about bonobos, but I guess that’s the fun fact quota for the day.”

Your face heats and you’ve never quite wished the ground would swallow you up until this very moment. 

“Oh,” You say, dumbly. “Well. That’s a thing. That bonobos do.”

“I got that,” Namjoon says. He bites down on his lower lip in what’s probably an innocuous way to not smile at how ridiculous you’re being, but when paired with the golden expanse of chest, it’s utterly obscene. 

“Would you like to have recreational sex with me?” 

“ What? ”

“No strings attached, no feelings, nothing but some nice fun recreational intercourse between two consenting adults of sound mind. Would you be interested?”

“I...why are you asking me? ” He asks incredulously, and you resist the urge to kiss the surprise off his face. How is it surprising at all when he walks around looking like that ?

“Because in the time we’ve known each other as coworkers, roommates, and friends, I think we could be very sexually compatible and even if we aren’t, I’m confident enough in our friendship to believe we could still be friends afterward.” You tell him firmly. “Besides, you’re literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?”

“You’re...serious about this? You’re not playing some kind of joke on me?” 

“Why would I play a joke on you, Namjoon? I haven’t been able to get off for literal weeks - ever since you moved in, actually - and I’m at a bit of a breaking point.”

“And you’re not drunk?”

“Completely sober,” You assure him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand over his jaw, not making eye contact as he considers. It’s the same thoughtful expression that he gets when he’s trying to figure out some complex equation at work. With how long it’s been since you last came, however, it’s only making you wetter. 

"Fuck it," He mutters, seconds before his hands cup your jaw to pull you into a kiss. 

It's awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm that you both enjoy while still being able to breathe. His lips are slightly chapped and you both stumble as he starts walking backwards towards the bed, but it's so wonderful. His hand against your jaw is warm and comforting, even as his other hand is slipping teasingly under your robe and his teeth suckle a mark into your collarbone. 

Movement on the bed catches your attention and you flush when you realize it's Moni, Namjoon's very sweet dog that came with him when he moved in. 

"Uh, Namjoon?" You breathe. It's hard to focus on anything that isn't the way he's teasing at the band of your panties, but the way Moni is staring at you is captivating. "Dog."

Namjoon freezes, hands disappearing from your skin, and he either doesn't hear or doesn't acknowledge your needy whine at the loss of contact. 

"What, what's wrong? Is that your safeword? What did I do?"

"No, Joon," You can barely hear yourself think over the stream of apologies pouring from his lips, and it isn't until you grip his shoulders and forcibly turn him to look at his dog that he shuts up. 

" Oh ," He whispers. "The dog." He clicks his tongue a couple of times and Moni hops down from the bed, though not without giving Namjoon the saddest eyes possible. Moni disappears down the hallway, probably to go lay on the couch, and Namjoon shuts the door behind him. "Sorry," he says bashfully. 

"Don't be sorry," You respond with a smile. " Do , however, fuck me until I can't move." 

A growl vibrates in his chest, surprising you, and you're bouncing atop his mattress before you can think. 

He doesn't say anything else, too focused on the way your folds feel against his tongue as he slides your robe up your thighs. Words are hardly possible for you when he makes you come the first time. Even less so when he turns you onto your hands and knees, presses your face into the mattress, and proceeds to pound into you so hard that the nightstand shakes. Still, your knees are made weak by something else entirely.

It's the tender awareness in his touch; he's firm and unyielding but so, so cautious, consistently testing your reactions before he continues. The way his voice - deepened and husky with desire - sounds in your ear when he asks if what he's doing is okay, if you like it, if you want to keep going. It's how he teases you gently about how wet you are - "God damn, is this all for me? You're so fucking wet, so slick and ready for me, sweetheart," -  the way he's so absolutely tuned in to your own needs and desires, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you like it's second nature, his own high an afterthought when you've clenched too tight around him. 

It's the way he brings you water and some fruit afterward and gently cleans you up while you eat before sliding your robe carefully over the blossoming purple marks he sucked into your shoulders. It's the way he didn't close his bedroom door until yours clicked behind you. 

"This was the best idea I've ever had," you sigh happily to yourself as you drift off to sleep. 

“So you’ve got a sir kink?” Namjoon asks several days later, face pressed into a microscope more expensive than your entire apartment building. He doesn’t look at you, even as you tear your eyes away from the computer screen in front of you to glance at him curiously. 

“I do,” You tell him. He shifts in his chair and you bite back a grin. “Is that a problem? We don’t have to use it.”

“No, it’s fine,” He says quickly. “Just thought it was interesting. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Namjoon, we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and in that time, we’ve hardly had a conversation about what kinks we enjoy and what we don’t. How would you expect anything?”

“Just...didn’t expect it, that’s all.” He’s quiet for a minute and a sliver of guilt lodges in your throat. You’re right, the two of you haven’t known each other for very long, especially not in a sexual manner, but you could’ve maybe phrased it better. 

“I’m sorry-”

“We should-”

Both of you stop midsentence, turning away from your work to laugh with each other. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Namjoon says with a dimpled smile. “I know what you meant, and you’re right. We don’t know what the other enjoys, so we shouldn’t go into this with any expectations.”

“Maybe we should, though,” You say, marking a sequence that catches your eye so you’ll remember to come back and fully examine it later. “I mean, we can’t exactly fulfill our sexual needs without knowing what said needs are. For instance, how often do you orgasm every week?”

Something tumbles on Namjoon’s desk, and when you look over he’s got the microscope cradled carefully in his hands a few feet above the floor. 

“Uh...maybe twice,” He eventually says.

“Hm. Duly noted.” You turn back to the monitor in front of you, marking another sequence for inspection. 

“Well...how often do you orgasm each week?” He asks. His voice is hesitant, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask.

“Depends,” You tell him. “When I’m close to my period or ovulating, it’s usually once a day, if not twice, because my sex drive is higher, but otherwise it’s usually every other day or so.”

“Oh.” 

“But don’t worry, I’m more than willing to take care of myself on the nights where you need a break. I don’t expect you to keep up with my sex drive.”

“I mean...I could .”

You turn away from the monitor to look at him, quirking a brow. He quirks his own in return and you can’t help the way your eyes travel down his form. He’s wearing contacts instead of his glasses - always does during the workweek, since it’s easier to use a microscope that way - but the light purple shirt sets off the platinum blonde of his hair and his thighs strain against the material of his khakis. It all adds up to make him look absolutely delectable, especially since you know full well what’s hiding underneath those pants. 

“I could,” He repeats. “If you want me to.”

Your eyes meet his and you have no doubt he’s been eyeing you the same way you’ve been eyeing him. 

“I think it might be time for our lunch break, Mr. Kim,” You tell him, eyes darting to the clock on your desk. “I was thinking of going out to get something, would you like to join me?”

Namjoon is already standing and grabbing his jacket, and you would laugh at how eager he is if you weren’t the same way. You can already feel heat beginning to pool between your legs and the two of you rush out of the office in such a hurry that you hardly notice when you run straight into the mail cart. 

“Nice going, Slick!” Kihyun yells after you, and you wish you were ashamed of the way that your knees tremble at the reminder of how it felt to have Namjoon call you that while buried inside of your warmth. 

“They have no idea,” Namjoon mutters, fingers twisting with yours so he can pull you down a hallway and towards an unused office. “If they only knew just how slick you really are.”

You shiver and slam the door closed as Namjoon sinks to his knees. 

The amount of times the two of you fuck at work is utterly ridiculous after that. You have an actual conversation with him about kinks and hard limits and soft limits and all that fun grown-up stuff that’s necessary of an adult relationship, of course, and that only adds to the fire between the two of you. 

He’s more than willing to let you call him Sir while you’re on your hands and knees in front of him, and you’re absolutely willing to ride him into oblivion in those moments when he doesn’t want to be in charge or when he’s had a hard day at work and just wants to relax. Those are your favorite times, actually; when he just sits on the couch and drives himself up into you while you’re fucking yourself back down onto him, eyes clenched shut as his hands glide up your spine and knead your ass. 

The slow, lazy way his hips meet yours is absolutely addictive, you can’t even lie, but you can’t deny that it’s the moment after you’ve both cum that are the real danger. When you’re both panting and spent, laying against the soft sheets on his bed or the cool leather of your couch, and his arm drapes around your torso for those few moments it takes him to regain his breath. 

It’s dangerous, so dangerous, because you’ve already agreed not to have feelings involved in this. You’re friends with benefits, nothing more and nothing less, and you cannot let yourself forget that. Not in the mornings when you wander out in his shirt to find that he’s made breakfast - ordered it, actually, but it’s the thought that counts - or when you walk into work together and he doesn’t hesitate to open the doors for you without even breaking stride, as if it’s second nature to do so. As if he’s used to it. 

It’s when the two of you are at the mall together that reality hits you in the face. 

You’re both on the hunt for different things; he’s got a birthday present he still has to buy and wants to pick up some new treats and sweaters for Moni, while you’re on the hunt for a new toaster to rival that of your old one - which you destroyed on accident by using a metal fork to dig a piece of bread out of. While it was plugged in. And hot. 

Your hands still sting a little, but the ER nurse was adamant that you would be alright. So long as you didn’t try to electrocute yourself again.

“Wait, so you’re not going to be here for New Year’s Eve?” You clarify, popping a piece of chocolate into your mouth. 

“No, I’m heading up to Taehyung’s cabin with the rest of the guys. It’s an annual thing, I don’t even remember how it got started,” Namjoon tells you as he peers into the window of some box store that you already know isn’t going to have anything Taehyung will like. 

“Hm, I guess it’s good I work then, so I can walk Moni.” 

Namjoon shoots you an odd look. “You don’t work, and Jackson’s watching Moni.”

“Uh...I’m pretty sure I work on New Year’s Eve, Namjoon. I would’ve made plans otherwise.”

“Slick, I’m exactly one hundred percent sure the office is closed for New Year’s because it is every year.” He sneaks a piece of chocolate and wrinkles his nose when he realizes it’s mint chocolate. 

“No, because my schedule says-” You start, pulling your phone out to open said schedule so you can show him just how wrong he is. “That I work the next morning. That’s why I didn’t make plans.”

Namjoon just smiles and taps at the screen. “That’s December, Slick. You’re looking at December first.”

You pull the phone back and stare at it, horror washing over you when you see that he’s right. 

You’re going to be spending New Year’s alone, for the first time in years, and loneliness fills you at that thought. Your parents are an entire plane ride away, on vacation for their retirement in some tropical paradise that you can’t remember the name of; your old friends are in an entirely different city, likely already with plans of their own, and you don’t know nearly enough people at work or outside of it to have any idea what people are doing. 

“Oh man,” Namjoon breathes, clearly oblivious to the sudden onset of loneliness that’s hit you. “I knew it was going to be hilarious, but I had no idea it was going to be this good .”

You look up to find him focused on his phone, camera pointing at something you can’t quite make out through the small screen. You follow the view, a reluctant smile breaking out when you spot Hope on the Street dancing along to some holiday song while dressed as an elf. 

“Isn’t that the news anchor that got in trouble for doing anal?” You ask. Namjoon cackles - there’s no other word for it, it’s a cackle - and nods. 

“Yeah, Hoseok’s been forced into doing this as a publicity stunt. We’ve all been looking forward to seeing him do it, too, but god , I had no idea it would be this funny to see. Hobi as a Christmas elf, can you imagine?”

“Hobi?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a close friend of mine,” Namjoon says, eyes never straying from the video as he plays it back. “He’s gonna be at the cabin too, with his girlfriend Cat. There’s like seven of us who all grew up in the same little neighborhood, and we all kept pretty close as we got older. It’s like a little mini-family.”

“Oh,” You say softly. Namjoon tucks his phone back into his pocket and looks around, lighting up as he spots something else. “I didn’t know you knew Hope on the Street.”

“Yeah, he’s a dork,” Namjoon says as he pulls you towards some children’s store. “Come on, I think Yoongi’s working and I like to watch his little dance when he makes the hearts.”

You barely pay attention as Namjoon hurries into the toy store. You don’t join him inside, too busy lost in your own thoughts. 

You should’ve realized, you scold yourself. You should’ve known better. You got comfortable, you got complacent and happy, too enamored with the way Namjoon feels inside of you and the warmth of his hand in yours to realize that you’re still on the outside. 

He and his friends are all going up to some cabin, with their girlfriends apparently, to hang out and have fun together for New Year’s. He didn’t invite you. You’ve lost yourself in the fantasy and complacency of how warm he feels, how it feels like coming home whenever you see him, even when you knew better. 

You knew better than to get attached. You told yourself, every step of the way, not to get attached, don’t develop feelings, it’s just sex, and yet…

And yet your heart is breaking in your chest that he didn’t invite you along, that he didn’t even think to do so. It’s not even fair to him, it’s not his fault that you got too caught up in the domesticity and familiarity of him to remember that this isn’t serious. Why would he invite you? You’re his roommate, a coworker, the girl he fucks every so often. You aren’t his girlfriend, you aren’t anyone important to his friends. 

You’re just the roommate. 

“Hey, look at this bear I made, it’s got a little microscope and everything! It’s perfect for-”

“Sorry,” You interrupt, ignoring the way Namjoon’s smile dims ever so slightly. “I just realized that I’ve got to finish up some analyses before the office closes for the holiday, I’ve gotta go do that. But it’s cute, Moni’ll love it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon’s voice is hushed, and his brows are drawn together. He can obviously tell something’s off, but if you’re lucky, maybe he won’t be able to pinpoint exactly what. “I’ll see you at home then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you back at the apartment,” You say quickly, not even looking at him as you hurry off the other way. 

You just need space, you tell yourself. You just need some distance so you can get your emotions under control. You can’t be around him when all you want to do is kiss him senseless and tell him how much you want to wake up in his bed forever, how you never want to miss another walk with Moni. He can’t know. 

He won’t know.

"I fucked up."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Jimin’s voice says from the other end of the phone. 

Namjoon groans, resisting the urge to slam his head back against the cabinets. He's standing in the kitchen now, staring longingly at the fridge and whatever food it may contain, because you’re out grocery shopping now, and he would love for you to come back to a hot meal, but there’s a reason you’re grocery shopping this late at night.

"You remember how in college everyone teased me because I'm terrible at one-night stands and I bet Hobi a week's groceries that I totally could?"

"Yes," Jimin says slowly. Something clinks on the other end of the line, and Namjoon wonders what Jimin’s having for dinner. His stomach rumbles in response and he heaves himself across the kitchen to dig through the fridge while Jimin continues. "I also remember how you spent weeks pining over said one-night stand while Hoseok filled the cupboards with every single thing he thought he could get away with buying. Why are you bringing that up now?"

Namjoom stays quiet but hums in victory as he unearths a pizza that isn’t too terribly old. “How long can pizza live in the fridge before it would kill me if I ate it?”

“If you have to ask that question, it’s been too long,” Jimin tells him. Namjoon debates, eyeing the pizza before deciding it looks fine and turning the oven on before sliding the pizza in. “Now, why are you bringing up one night stands and then pizza?”

"You remember how that new girl started at work a few months ago and we ate lunch together and then nearly got fired?"

"Yes, I distinctly remember writing you notes on takeout containers for weeks reminding you not to put foil in the microwave. What does-" Jimin stops, and Namjoon gets the distinct impression that if they were having this conversation in person, he’d be getting the Look. "Joon, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't have a one night stand with her," Namjoon assures him. 

"Good," Jimin says, heaving a sigh of relief. "God only knows what would happen with a one night stand with your roommate-"

"We're friends with benefits." 

Jimin chokes on whatever he’s eating and Namjoon winces sympathetically. 

"It's not that bad," The elder says before Jimin can scold him. "We're very sexually compatible. And she's amazing, Jimin, you don't even know-"

"Joon, isn't this the same girl you spent an entire four hours talking about the day she started working with you?"

"Yeah, so?"

The blonde gives a heavy sigh. Namjoon knows the younger well enough to know he’s shaking his head right now. 

"Please be careful, Namjoon," Jimin eventually says. 

"Oh, don't worry, we've both been tested, and we use condoms every time, there's nothing to worry about."

"That's not the kind of careful I mean," Jimin sighs. He's quiet for a minute as he eats and Namjoon waits for his pizza to be heated enough to eat. "Why do you say you fucked up if you’ve been careful?”

“I…” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I think she’s upset with me. We were at the mall the other day and it was fine, we were laughing at how Hobi looks dressed as an elf-”

“God that video was hilarious -”

“Right?!” They both laugh a little, fondly remembering the sight, before Namjoon sobers. “And then she just...changed. She got all quiet and skittish and ran off before I could give her the bear I made. She didn’t even look at it.”

“And it just happened out of nowhere? What were you talking about?”

“How she’s off work for New Year’s and I’m heading up to the cabin so she doesn’t have to watch Moni or anything, and then I saw Yoongi doing that dance at the store so I wanted to go watch him, and-” He stops, eyes focused on the air in front of him. 

“Joon? You good?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” He begins, a realization hitting him all at once, “What would happen if I put a pizza in the oven to reheat without taking it out of the box?”

“Oh my fucking god, Namjoon, get it out!”

There’s a flurry of smoke while Namjoon does just that and rushes to open the window so he can let some of the smoke out before you get back home. Jimin’s still berating him - albeit fondly - when he picks the phone back up. 

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says quickly, “It’s cool, nothing’s actually on fire anymore. And the pizza’s warm!”

“Oh my god, how have you survived this long.” Namjoon smiles at Jimin’s words; he gets a lot of shit for being wildly unobservant, but he knows that the others love him dearly. Why else would they still talk to him? Really, after the incident with the tub at Jungkook’s apartment, it’s truly a miracle he still has friends, and love is the only explanation. 

“But seriously, I don’t know what I did with Slick. Do you think I was too...obvious?”

“Namjoon,” Jimin says seriously. “If this girl is anything like you, and based on that time she tried to screenshot a crack in phone screen I’m inclined to believe she is, then I think the issue is that you aren’t being obvious enough . You said she got all weird after you mentioned the cabin, right?”

“Yeah. I thought she’d be happy that she wouldn’t be stuck with Moni, but-”

“Did you consider that since she thought she was working, she doesn’t have any other plans and is now stuck in the apartment by herself since she just moved here recently?”

“Oh.” Guilt surges through him as the door opens and your voice echoes that you picked up some takeout while you were gone. “I gotta go.”

“Ah-ah,” Jimin says quickly. “My payment?”

“Yes, Jimin, I love you dearly, you are the light of my life, I would never have survived this long were it not for your sage wisdom, I owe you my firstborn.”

“Much better! Some of the others could learn from you.” Jimin’s laugh continues long after he’s hung up, Namjoon is sure of it. 

You aren’t sure why the apartment smells like smoke when you get back, but you decide not to question it and just be grateful you had the foresight to pick up some takeout on your way back from the store. 

 When you get into the kitchen, Namjoon is there, with a smoking pizza box on the stove beside him. He’s not in his work clothes; instead, he looks comfortable and cozy in some sweats and a faded tee with his glasses halfway down his nose. Your heart lurches painfully in your chest at the sight and you force yourself to remember that he isn’t yours . 

“Hey! Did you hear me? I got takeout, since I figured neither of us wanted to cook. And I’m glad I did, what’s with the smoke?” A thought strikes you as you set the bags on the table. “Oh no, did you try to use the toaster? I told you not to, it got weird after that night with the fork, we need to replace it.”

“Do you wanna go to the cabin?” 

You freeze, halfway to the fridge to put away the ice cream that he likes. “What?” You ask. 

“The cabin. Do you want to go with me for New Year’s Eve, with everyone?” Namjoon takes the ice cream and finishes your journey for you, sticking it in the freezer without a second thought. “If you don’t want to take advantage of a quiet apartment, that is. You’re welcome to join, and I figured that was obvious, but then I realized that it may not be, so I wanted to offer.”

“With you and all of your friends? I don’t really... know any of them.” 

“That’s fine, they’re not that bad. They’re all pretty friendly, once you get to know them at least.” Namjoon says as he takes some vegetables out of your hands to put them in the fridge as well. “And I have no doubt that the others are going to bring some of their friends. Yoongi’s girlfriend will be there, she seems sweet. And Cat and Star are always nice, you’d love them.” 

You hesitate, though you aren’t sure why. This is what you wanted, so why doesn’t it make you happy?

“Besides, they’ll all be happy to have another friend around to bother. Jin loves to feed people.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you and your heart does something complex that you can’t explain. There’s the rush of excitement and the skipped beat that always comes with his dimples, but it twists and clenches as well. Because of course, he’s just taking you as a friend. 

You’re friends. And that’s fine. If you repeat yourself enough times then you’ll believe it. You have to. 

“Yeah, sure!” You say with a grin. “I’d like that. They always sound so fun, it’ll be nice to meet them for real.”

Namjoon beams and helps you put the rest of the groceries away before you both settle in to eat. It’s not anything fancy, simple and quick and just enough to get the two of you through the night so that you didn’t have to cook. You chat about work as you do, a few sequences that might prove promising if you can work them the right way. 

It’s afterward, as you’re both curled up on opposite sides of the couch while some nature documentary plays in the background, that you notice it. 

He’s been fidgety all night, even before you left to get the food, and you didn’t think anything of it before. But now he’s even worse, hands rubbing along his thighs nervously while he shoots you look after look, which you have no doubt he thinks you don’t notice. 

“What is up with you?” You ask him eventually, ignoring the way some bug is eating another bug’s head onscreen. 

“Nothing,” he says in a rush. “Just...ready for bed.”

“Then go to bed.” You say it like it’s obvious, because it is. If he’s so ready to sleep, then he should go; neither of you has ever expected the other to stay up and watch TV together. You’re individuals.

“Okay,” he says softly, adjusting his glasses as he stands. He gets all the way to his bedroom door before he comes back, hovering awkwardly in the hall entrance for several seconds before he finally sits back down on the couch. Now, however, he’s sitting with his thigh pressed against yours, the heat radiating through the shorts you’re wearing and searing into your skin. 

He’s still fidgety, still uneasy for some reason, and it’s as you turn to ask him what the hell’s going on that he pulls you into a kiss. It’s soft and lingering and it makes your stomach flip in all the ways it isn’t supposed to. 

“If you wanted to have sex, you should have just said so,” You whisper against his lips. You can feel it more than hear it as he starts to say something and then cuts himself off with a sigh. 

“I wanna be inside you,” he says instead. “Please.”

Heat pools between your legs, even at such simple words, and you find yourself nodding. He kisses you again, frantic and much more heated than before, and you can already tell what it’ll be like tonight. 

You’re right, too; it’s quick and dirty. You don’t even make it to the bed, not at first. He cages you against the wall in the hallway and slides a hand between your bodies to start to draw your first orgasm out. It’s the whine from the dog that makes you realize where you are, pulling apart long enough to stare at where Moni sits at the hallway entrance, head cocked to the side and watching you with a confused stare. 

That gets you into the bedroom, the door shut behind you as you fall together onto the bed. The two of you barely get your clothes off before Namjoon’s sliding inside of you and groaning at the feeling. 

“Fuck, Slick, you’re so wet,” he whispers against your skin as he thrusts. You can hardly make words, too focused on the way he fits inside of you and the absolute certainty that you cannot say a single word running through your head. 

Not that you’re in love with the way he holds your hips so gently as he thrusts, not how he whispers praise and adoration against you with every press of his lips to your skin, and certainly not how you want to stay like this forever. That you’re absolutely positive you’ve broken the cardinal rules of being fuckbuddies. 

Don’t get feelings. 

But you were a fool, anyway. Because it’s easy to break rules, especially when you go into it with feelings. 

The first orgasm hits you with a shockwave, and with the way Namjoon hits your g-spot, it’s followed by a second shortly after. Your hands claw into the sheets as he fills the condom, and it only takes a minute for him to clean himself up enough to relax in the bed beside you, but you hardly notice; you’re too busy adjusting to the emptiness that you’re left with now that he isn’t inside you, the yearning that fills you down to your bones with the need to be wrapped up in his arms and cradled to his chest as you both drift to sleep.

You force yourself up before you can get comfortable, fatigue sweeping through your bones. 

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go shower,” You tell him. It’s a feat to keep your voice neutral, but you think you manage. “And then head to bed, I think. Uh, thanks. For the orgasms.”

The door to the bathroom closes behind you before he can even get a word out, and you force the image of his confused face out of your mind as you turn the water on. It takes every part of you to resist the urge to linger in the hot spray for longer than you need to be there, but you manage. 

By the time you’re slipping into bed, the light in Namjoon’s room is off and you can hear Moni settling into bed beside Namjoon. You can practically see them, curled up together all warm and settled in together. Content. 

You slip between your own sheets and wrap the fluffy blanket around you. Emotions are swirling in your gut and you do your best to ignore them all. You don’t need to focus on the way you want to be there with them, the way you want to curl your body into his with Moni between you, just the way he likes on the couch. 

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had,” You tell yourself with a sigh as you try to fall asleep in your lonely bed. 

You don’t know that across the hall, Namjoon lays awake with Moni beside him, wondering how he fucked up so badly that you’re not in his arms anymore. He’d have every intention to tell you about his feelings. He wanted to end this friends-with-benefits thing, put it to rest so that he could take you out for real. So you could be together , for real. 

But you’d just bolted the second he was collapsing onto the bed, like you were running from something, and he wasn’t about to keep you here when you don’t want to be here. 

Still, he thinks as Moni burrows under the blankets to get closer to him, he can’t help but wish you were up against him as well, with your breathing steady and quiet as you sleep and he can feel your chest move with it. 

He just really wishes that you wanted that too.

The drive to the cabin is uneventful. You and Namjoon talk about work most of the way, chatting amicably about a few things that got corrupted in the data that have been frustrating to rebuild and how excited Moni was to see Jackson when he picked the pup up that day. 

You’re only a little nervous when you spot the wooden sign specifying that it belongs to the Kims. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Namjoon’s friends, seen one or two in passing when they come by the apartment to see Namjoon, though you tend to give them space when that happens. 

Still, nothing could ever compare to the welcome that greets you. There’s some kind of karaoke going on, with Taehyung and Star watching from the couch. There are crutches propped up nearby and you wonder what the story is there for the few seconds before your attention is drawn to the kitchen, where who you assume is Seokjin is scolding someone for shoving entirely too many cookies into their mouth. You catch sight of someone - blonde, giggling, followed by a sweet-looking girl - run out of the kitchen with his cheeks puffed out and crumbs on his lips, and you shoot Namjoon a look. 

“Jimin,” He explains with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go claim the den before someone else can get to it.”

That night is hectic, to say the least. Namjoon was right when he said his friends are welcoming, though; everyone is friendly and talkative - except for Pumpkin, Seokjin’s best friend who genuinely looks like she’s about to murder someone for the few moments that you see her during dinner but Namjoon assures you “That’s just her face, I promise.” Even when the boys get to reminiscing about the days they spent in that cul-de-sac, they include everyone else in their stories. 

Especially fun is when they all come up with theories about why Cat and Hobi are late, and while from what you’ve heard so far tonight, you agree with the proposal that they’re probably fucking, you still feel a sliver of worry for them. 

It’s the mention of sex that gets your stomach churning, though. Because Namjoon shoots you a knowing look, the same one he gets when you wear those ultra-short shorts around the house that he adores, and you already know what he wants. You can’t even say you don’t want it, too, because you don’t think you could ever turn down the opportunity to have him like that. It’s just so bittersweet when it ends-

“I’m going to start on dessert,” Seokjin states as he gathers plates. Yoongi and Peaches are gone in record time, and Taehyung and Star follow not long after, though it takes considerably longer with the way Taehyung helps her. Seokjin calls after them all that he’ll have dessert ready in a little while, and Namjoon shoots you another look when Jimin and Pumpkin don’t move from the table. 

“C’mon,” Namjoon whispers, grabbing your hand and urging you down the hallway. “Get our bags, we’re gonna steal Jin’s room.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best idea,” You whisper in return, though you do in fact grab the bags as he directs. “Isn’t that also Pumpkin’s room? Are we sure she won’t murder us?”

“No, it’ll be fine, Jin would never let her.” The thought isn’t as comforting as Namjoon means it to be, but you manage to get your bags in the room and their bags out without anyone the wiser. 

You realize your mistake too late. This room only has one bed. A singular sleeping area. The den has couches, you would have been fine, but you can’t sleep here. You can’t share the bed with Namjoon; it’s entirely too dangerous. Getting to see him still completely sleep soft, warm against you as the two of you doze in the early morning light? 

There would be no coming back from that. 

The thought leaves nearly as quick as it enters, driven away by the slide of Namjoon’s arms as he wraps them around you. 

"Do you want it, Slick?" His voice is deep and rumbling, almost a purr in your ear, and it makes your knees weak. It's truly ridiculous how easy it is for him to rile you up, but fuck , can you really complain?

Except you can, because it's not what you want. It's not everything you want. You can't ask for more, though, not when he doesn't want to give it.

His hands snake towards the waistband of your pants - fancy grey pinstriped pants that you bought specifically because Namjoon told you that Seokjin has a fancy dress code for New Year's Eve - and your heart jumps up into your throat. You spin in his arms, doing your best to look enthusiastic. 

"I want to blow you," You tell him as you sink to your knees. He leans back against the wall and quirks a brow, but he nods his agreement.

You set to work almost immediately; you're determined to make this the best blowjob of his life. It's the least you can do. You don't tell him that, though; you can't tell him. Not this. Not that you're so deeply entrenched in your feelings for him that you're afraid if you don't get out now you won't be able to. Not that you can't bear to have him touch you because you're afraid of what will come out of your mouth, what you might say or reveal that he doesn't want to know. 

Not when you're going to have to end this, as you decided while laying in bed two nights ago, cold and exhausted and utterly alone. 

You focus again on Namjoon, reminding yourself to pay attention. His dick is big - big enough that your fingers can only barely meet when you wrap them around it, but it means your jaw aches deliciously when you go down on him, and you adore the feeling of it in your throat.

So you swallow him down completely, burying him to the hilt with one swift movement. You've been practicing, and it has clearly paid off if the choked moan that escapes him is any indication. His hands tangle in your hair, not pulling or pushing but instead just sitting there and moving with you as you pull off just to bury him again. 

You look up and are pleased to find that his eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched tight against the moans building inside of his chest. But that won't do at all. The best blowjob of his life can't possibly be one where he doesn't even look at you.

To rectify the situation, you bring one hand up to tease at his balls, squeezing ever so slightly in the way you know he likes as you swallow around his cock. He does moan then, fingers clenching in your hair as he opens his eyes to look down at you. 

"Fuck, just like that, Slick," He pleads. "Again, please again, it's perfect." You comply, humming an affirmative around his dick that makes him shudder before you swallow around him again. "God, fuck , you're so fucking perfect. Fucking amazing, the best, I can't believe I get to have this-"

Namjoon continues, mumbling in and out of coherency as you bop your head up and down on his cock. He's thick and heavy in your mouth and it feels like heaven on your tongue - it always does - and just when you think you can never get enough-

"Fuck, I love you so much, Slick, you're a god damn angel."

You pull off his dick, staring wide-eyed at him. Namjoon whines and looks down at you, clearly not comprehending what's just come out of his mouth.

"Fuck," He mutters. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I don't...I'm so sorry I didn't want you to know, especially not like this. Shit. "

"Are you serious?" You ask as you stand back up. Namjoon makes a belated movement to help steady you, blood flowing back into your calves from where you were kneeled down for a while, but he stops himself. He doesn't even look at you, really, instead staring out the window nearby. "Namjoon, seriously. Did you mean that?"

"I mean…" He hesitates, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Yeah. I did. I do. It's still new so I can't be entirely sure, but I think that's what this is." 

He heaves a sigh and tucks himself back into his slacks before moving to sit on the bed, one hand running through his platinum hair. 

"You weren't supposed to know," He mutters. "I thought I could keep it a secret. I didn't want to make it weird between us since you don't…" 

"Since I don't...feel the same?" You ask as you sit beside him. "You really...care about me like that?"

"Yeah," Namjoon whispers with a grin. It's fond and sweet and everything you've ever wanted and it's so unbearably familiar because it's how he's always looked at you. "Ever since we almost burned the lab down, I think."

"Same," You breathe, and you can't deny the way that you love the light that sparks in his eyes at that. "Ever since you ate the vegetables out of my rice and gave me your eggrolls." 

"Are you-"

"Yeah," You say with a laugh. "I guess we're kind of both at fault for this, then."

"Can I…" Namjoon trails off, searching for the words he wants. His hands move to wrap around yours, lacing your fingers together as he gives you a smitten smile. "We've been fucking for a while. As you know. But would you do me the honor of letting me make love to you?" 

You gulp, an audible and atrocious thing, because his words send a surge of desire straight to your core. He's right, you have been fucking, because that's the only thing the two of you can call it. You don't make eye contact, you don't sleep over, there are rules , but god, the two of you break everything else, so why not this?

"Please," You whisper.  

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands following quickly after to strip your clothes off. You can't be sure when his clothes join the pile on the floor, just that one moment your fists are clenched in his shirt and the next, you're raking your nails down his bare back as he sucks purple marks into your neck. 

"God, you're beautiful," He mutters. "Fucking divine." 

"Then I match you, don't I?" You whisper. Two of his fingers slide into you, and both of you moan at the feeling. He glides them against your walls, teasing that one spot inside of you that he knows you adore, and you whine a little.

"Patience, my dear," He chuckles. When you whine again he grins, dimples making your stomach flip. "Alright then, Slick. Let me get a condom."

"No," You say quickly. "We've been exclusive, right? No risk or anything like that. I've got the implant. 98% effective. I want…"

"Say it, love," Namjoon breathes, eyes never leaving yours. 

"I want to feel you. Please." He nods at your words and settles between your thighs once more. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of what's to come. 

"Tell me if you want to stop," he says as he presses kisses to your neck, up your throat, and across your cheeks. He does it all to distract you as he slides inside, but he doesn't need to. You've been fucking him for months now, you know exactly how big he is, and you're more than ready for it. 

What you aren't ready for is the way his skin feels against your walls, how you can feel every pulse and throb of his cock inside you. It's better than anything you've ever felt, beyond any descriptors you could find, and it only gets better as he slides out and then back in. 

His pace is slow but steady, a rhythmic glide to it that's making you obscenely wet. It's a stark contrast to the gentle way he kisses you, the softness of his lips against yours. The sound of his skin hitting yours fills the room as he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. 

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," You tell him, sliding your hands along every inch of skin you can get. 

Nothing is loud enough to mask the sound of the door opening, however, and when you glance over you can see that Hoseok and Cat have apparently finished whatever the fuck it was they were doing. 

You shy back, doing your best to cover yourself from their eyes, but Namjoon's pace doesn't falter. 

" Taken ," He growls. He doesn't even break eye contact as he does so, and the way his hand tightens on your hip makes you think he isn't just talking about the bedroom. 

Thankfully the couple disappears after that, closing the door behind them as they go, and it flips a switch inside Namjoon somehow. 

His pace speeds up, pistoning in and out of you mercilessly. He starts to angle his hips, searching until you finally cry out with your back arching up off the bed itself. He just smiles and continues to hit that spot, one hand moving to support your back while the other rubs teasing circles into your clit. 

"That's it, love," he purrs. "Wanna watch you come for me like this. Let yourself fall apart on my cock, Slick, I'll be right here. I've got you." 

You really wish you could figure out what exactly it is he does then; some kind of swivel of his hips while his fingers do some complicated twist or something, you have no doubt, but nevertheless, it's got you unraveling underneath him. You clench around him, harder than you ever have, and you can feel the sheets soaking underneath you from the strength of your orgasm. 

It takes barely two more thrusts for Namjoon to come as well, stilling slightly as his cum hits your walls for the first time. It's warm and you can feel it settling inside of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy it. 

You're both panting, out of breath and exhausted and having worked all the food Seokjin made out of your system. Namjoon disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm cloth to clean you up; his hands are tender as he does so, and you find yourself falling even deeper. 

After a quick power nap and an even quicker quickie - because Namjoon insisted that it wasn't fair that you got to go down on him but he didn't get to go down on you - the two of you mingle with the others. Hoseok and Cat fit seamlessly into the group, filling a space you hadn't realized was missing during dinner. It's obvious to you, as you lean against the kitchen island and watch them all, just how much this group loves each other. Even the newcomers, like the new girlfriends, are absorbed so perfectly into the existing group that it's as if they never left.

Hell, even Pumpkin is smiling a little, although you can't be sure it's not just because Seokjin looks Like That. 

"Ooh, icing," Namjoon says as he comes to join you in the kitchen. Seokjin barely gets a chance to say anything as Namjoon drags his thumb across the white droplet and sucks it into his mouth. 

The baker looks horrified, and you wish you knew why. Namjoon agrees, based on the look on his face. 

"What?" Namjoon asks. "It was good." Seokjin's face is as pale as it can possibly get when he waves Namjoon away, and you have a sneaking suspicion of just what your boyfriend put in his mouth. 

You don't bother to hide your smile as said boyfriend comes over to you and hands you a glass of champagne.

"What are you so happy about?" He asks teasingly.

"You," You tell him honestly. It's worth it when he ducks his head, shy smile making his dimples stand out even as he tries to hide it. "I adore you."

Namjoon doesn't respond, just kisses you. He breaks away for a few minutes, saying something to someone else, and when the clock strikes midnight, he presses another gentle kiss to your lips.

"What are you wishing for?" He asks. 

"Midnight wishes? Really?" You tease. He cocks a brow and you smile. "I don't need to wish for anything. I got everything I wanted this year." 

"Really? Everything?" 

You nod, straightening his tie ever so slightly. "And what about you? What are you wishing for?"

"Oh, that's easy." He wraps an arm around you and grins. "For you to finally accept the bear I made you that day in the mall."

"Moni loves that thing, I couldn't possibly take it from him."

"But it's got a microscope! And a lab coat!"

Well then," You tell him, dropping your voice so the others won't hear. "I suppose you'll have to make me another." 

He glances over to where Yoongi and Peaches stand and then back to you. 

"Covert mission to also get another for Jisoo?"

"Glad we're on the same page here," You tell him with a smile.

[365days365movies]

April 9, 2021: Some Like it Hot (1959) (Recap: Part One)

If there was ever a movie more hyped than this one...

Ever heard of the American Film Institute? Well, according to them in 2000 (recent, I know), this is the funniest comedy...period. At the time, anyway. That beats Tootsie (getting there), Dr. Strangelove (love it), Annie Hall (also loved it), Duck Soup (classic), Blazing Saddles (classic, topical, and fantastic), M*A*S*H (maybe later this year), It Happened One Night (maybe next year), The Graduate (later this WEEK), and...THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN Airplane! IS NUMBER 10? You CANNOT be seri...yeah, OK, you know where I’m going.

Anyway. Yeah, so, maybe AFI has Oscar syndrome, because that’s a little bullshit. So, uh...how about the BBC? In 2017, they asked 253 film critics ACROSS THE GLOBE what the best comedy of all time was, and number ONE was Some Like it Hot. Other than beating Airplane! again, it also beat Groundhog Day, Monty Python’s Life of Brian and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, This is Spinal Tap, The Big Lebowski, and His Girl Friday, and...well, every comedy you can think of. This movie CANNOT be that funny.

...Can it?

But there’s more to this film than that. Apparently, it was made without the approval of the MPPDA, which means that it wasn’t Hays Code adherent! Damn! In fact, this film was partially responsible for its collapse about 6 years later! But what is the Hays Code? Well, briefly covered, it was a set of standards laid out by Will Hays and his Motion Picture Produces and Distributors of America, or the MPPDA. It was enforced in the mid 1930s, and stood firmly in place until 1968, when it basically disappeared.

So, what are these standards? Well, there are a lot, but in a nutshell:

No cursing or taking the Lord’s name in vain in any way.

No nudity, real or suggested. And sex is kind of OK, if consensual and between a man and a woman ONLY. But, they can’t be in bed together, and they can only kiss one time, IF one of them isn’t a villain.

No weddings, no wedding nights, and barely any reference to marriage.

No prostitution, or what was called “white slavery”. Yes. Really.

Oh, also, no weird race-mixing stuff. What’s a “civil rights”?

Buuuuuuut...don’t insult any races either. Of course, considering the time period, “insult” or “offense” is probably subjective, so...fuck that, I guess.

PRIESTS ARE HOLY AND CANNOT BE MOCKED

No guns, fire, American flags, murder, smuggling, drugs, hanging, electrocution, or...law enforcement?

No childbirth, seen or inferred, and no naked kids. I mean...that’s common sense, to be completely fair.

NO RACE-MIXI-oh. Oh, I said that already, didn’t I? Well, OK, I’ll pare it down a little. They can’t have sex, but I guess...looking at each other is OK? Yeah, yeah, we’ll go with that. I’m progressive!

That about covers it. And this movie wasn’t adherent to it? Oh...well, I am excited! Let’s jump right in! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The whole thing starts with a bang; literally. It's Chicago in 1929, smack dab in the middle of the Prohibition Era, and a group of gangsters are smuggling some alcohol inside of a coffin, while riding in a hearse. The cops aren't fooled, ad a shootout takes place between the gangsters and the cops, but they eventually drop off as the group takes the coffin into a funeral home. At the funeral home, a man named “Toothpick” Charlie (George E. Stone) meets with Mulligan (Pat O’Brien) a detective who’s got Charlie as his informant. With his help, he makes his way into the funeral home, actually a speakeasy in disguise.

Said speakeasy is run by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft), and within the speakeasy is a massive party, which the partygoers call a funeral. Spats arrives there shortly afterwards, and Mulligan watches all the while. Also at this party is a group of dancers accompanied by a band, which contains two partners, ladies’ man and sax player Joe (Tony Curtis) and anxious double bassist Jerry (Jack Lemmon).

The two talk about what they’re going to do with their upcoming paycheck, with Joe planning on using it for gambling on dog races. Jerry is understandably worried about this, as they owe rent, but Joe rattles off other things that he might was well worry about.

Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes. Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks. Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn! Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.

Fun fact, though: the stock market’s about to crash in a year, Pickford and Fairbanks divorce in 1936, and the Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1957, famously. Lake Michigan has not overflowed...YET. It’s actually at record high water levels, and could cause flooding around it in the next few years. So, although those middle three were DEFINITELY part of the joke...that last one wasn’t at the time. Of course, it’s actually there as a line to set Jerry up with a way to tell him that the streets are “about to flood”, as he spots Mulligan and makes him. He tells Joe, and they both quietly pack up their instruments and leave, BEFORE the ruckus is about to begin.

And begin it does, and the cops raid the place almost immediately afterwards. As the party’s broken up and people are loaded into the paddywagon (Spats included), Joe and Jerry take their chance to escape behind the cops’ backs. However, this also means that the two musicians aren’t getting paid after all. Joe’s still set on betting money on the dog the next day, and get the money for the bet by selling their coats. However, while they do sell their coats, they instead end up looking for jobs at a local music agency, run by Sig Poliakoff (Billy Gray). 

The agency is recruited by band owner Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her nebbish band manager Bienstock (Dave Barry), as they need a bass and a sax player to replace two of their own, in their band in Florida. On hearing this from Poliakoff’s secretary Nellie (Barbara Drew), the two barge into the office. However, much to their dismay, the only ones they’re looking for are women. While Jerry tries to weasel their way in, it doesn’t quite work, and they instead take a job up north for a Valentine’s Day dance. The two go to a garage to borrow a car from Nellie in order to get to the job. There, playing cards, is Toothpick Charlie with a group of men. But then...somebody else arrives.

Spats and his men arrive at the garage, and tell all of the men to stand with their hands on the wall. Joe and Jerry, however, manage to hide in the garage. And if you know anything about Valentine’s Day during Prohibition Era Chicago...then you know exactly what’s about to happen to Toothpick and the guys.

After the massacre (based upon the real St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, Jerry makes a noise and alerts the gang to their presence. This is a problem, because Spats isn’t keen on the idea of witnesses, and immediately orders the musicians killed.With a distraction caused by the still-alive-but-dying Charlie, the two manage to escape Spats’ wrath. Now needing a fast way out of town, Joe figures out a plan. See, that job, the one from Sweet Sue, is in Florida, which is far enough away that they should be able to escape. But, uh...the band is only looking for women. And so...

This is the second most famous thing about the film. Meet Josephine and Daphne, the female aliases of Joe and Jerry respectively. As Jerry realizes the difficulties of the female wardrobe (namely skirts and heels), the two walk up to the band of women, known as “Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators.” But they aren’t the only arrivals, and the other is the MOST famous thing about this movie...

This is Sugar “Kane” Kowalczyk, the lead singer, ukelele player, and...OK, look, it’s Marilyn Monroe, and I think I need to acknowledge this now. Marilyn Monroe is an underrated talent today, but she had a hell of a lot of potential as an actress and as an individual. She had a lot of troubles, and her early death by suicide is an absolute tragedy, no matter how you slice it. She’s a talented actress and singer, and she deserves recognition for that.

SHE IS ALSO INSANELY HOT I’M SORRY I’M WEAK

Look...it’s Marilyn fucking Monroe, OK? I know, I’m a straight cissexual man, but I wanted to make a point to acknowledge the fact that Marilyn Monroe is a talent far outside of her beauty and physicality. She (and all women) deserve that much, and deserve not to be objectified by the male gaze. I genuinely agree with this, and I do understand that concept. I’ll never personally understand the female experience, but it’s my responsibility and duty as an individual to understand experiences foreign to my own, including this one.

But DEAR LORD, her physicality is not easy to ignore, now and then! I mean COME ON! The woman’s considered a standard of classic beauty to this day by many (not by all, and not by herself), and it’s unfortunately her most famous feature to nearly everybody. But, of course, Monroe got a lot of grief for her looks as well (which is bullshit), and the stress of her life sadly led to her terrible suicide. But that doesn’t mean that her beauty inside and out shouldn’t be appreciated for what it is: beauty.

ALSO SHE IS DROP DEAD GORGEOUS I’M WEAK I KNOW

See, the train agrees with me! Oh...OH RIGHT, THE MOVIE! OK, where was I. Well, Joe and Jerry agree with me about Sugar Kane, but it is the 1950′s when the film is made, so of course they do. They watch her get on, and they follow suit, meeting the women of the band, and Sugar Kane. Sugar, see, has a teensy bit of an alcohol problem. That’s not necessarily to say she’s an alcoholic, but she is admonished for it by Sweet Sue and Bienstock, also being a repeat offender of drinking during working hours. That (and men) is something that Sweet Sue doesn’t tolerate.

She’s almost in trouble that night, when her flask falls from her stocking during a performance. However, Jerry covers for her, much to her appreciation. As they settle in for the night, all of the girls (including Joe and Jerry) sleep in the same cabin, much to the, uh, frustration of Jerry, despite Josephine’s urgings to keep it together. As Jerry continually reminds himself that he’s posing as a girl, he’s surprised that night with the appearance of Sugar, who comes to thank her for her help that night. Sugar tells “Daphne” that she owes her one, and also climbs into the cot with him to hide from Sweet Sue. Jerry...that poor mother fucker.

Well, Jerry tries to ease the tension by offering some of Joe’s whisky. But more of the girls overhear this, and eventually, a massive party erupts, with all the girls mixing drinks and sharing the single space of Jerry’s bed. Joe wakes up from all of this, and tries to help end the party, only for Sugar to climb out of it, and ask Joe for help with a block of ice for the drinks.

It’s here that she reveals that she used to work with men’s bands, but joined this band to get away from men. This is especially to get away from her weakness: tenor sax players. This intrigues Joe, the tenor sax player. However, she’s essentially sworn off of tenor sax players because of multiple bad relationships, and is instead hoping to find a millionaire in Florida, preferably one with a yacht. Meanwhile, Jerry’s bed is getting a little too full, and the girls are getting a little TOO familiar. They start to tickle him, and to prevent his cover being blown, Jerry pulls the train’s emergency brake. All of the girls scatter as the train stops, and they manage to get away with the party as Sweet Sue and Bienstock wake up only then.

The train gets to Florida, and the girls make their way into a hotel. As they check in, Jerry (as Daphne) is spotted by Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a millionaire, and a man with eclectic tastes in women. And those tastes apparently include Daphne, as he unsubtly (and unwantedly) hits on her. And Jerry’s having none of it. After Osgood pinches him in the elevator, he gets off after slapping him. Unfortunately, that makes Osgood only want Daphne THAT MUCH MORE. This man...this man may just be the legendary alpha simp of which the stories tell.

Meanwhile, Joe manages to get ahold of Beinstock’s luggage and glasses. He steals his clothes (after fending off an overeager bellboy), and uses them to dress as a millionaire. Why? Why, to seduce Sugar, of course!

This is right at the halfway point, so we’ll pick this up in Part Two! See you there!

[hailbop1701]

25 Days of FicMas

December 6th prompt: Fake Date for Christmas

Word count: 2,380

He's my...boyfriend?

Well here it is! I love this trope...we need more of this. This was pretty damn fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

-H❤🖖

You tossed your phone onto the noodle shop counter with a scowl before sitting back down with John and Dorian. “You okay?” Dorian asked concerned as he pushed a bowl of noodles towards you. John looked at you expectantly mouth full, you practically hissed at Dorian’s inquiry. “Just a joyous call with my mother,” you muttered violently cracking your chopsticks apart so you could use them. Both officers eyed you cautiously, “I take it that Christmas is going to be a bust?” Kennex asked taking a swig of soda. “That’s an understatement,” you muttered sourly looking at your food suddenly not hungry anymore. “She wants to set me up again!” 

Both Dorian and John were silent before they burst out laughing, you glared at them heatedly. “Come on it’s not funny!” you whined hurling your unused chopsticks at them out of frustration. Dorian snickered but calmed down out of respect to you, John, however, thought it was one of the funniest things he has heard in a while. You smacked him on the arm repeatedly until he stopped, “alright, alright!” he cried scooting away from you in order to protect himself. “What are you going to do?” he asked in all seriousness now. You sighed and slumped in your seat, “I have to go. My brothers would be upset if I skipped out and my dad would be disappointed,” you grumbled pushing your cooled-down bowl of noodles towards Kennex. He dug in the moment your hand left the porcelain. Rolling your eyes you hopped down from your stool grabbing your EMS-issued jacket, “I guess I have to suffer through unless I get a boyfriend in the next forty-eight hours,” you said dryly. Waving your goodbyes you were out the door and into the cold snowy city. 

Dorian hit Kennex on the shoulder lightly, “Is it whack Kennex day or something?” the man asked incredulously. The DRN rolled his eyes, “did you hear what she said John?” he asked smirking. John huffed finishing his second meal, “Yes, Dorian I’m not deaf. Sounds like she’s gonna have an unwanted guest this Christmas,” he said taking out his phone to pay the man behind the counter. Dorian gave his partner a look, “and you’re not the least bit jealous?” he asked unconvinced. John snorted, “not in the slightest. Why would I be?” he asked yanking on his coat avoiding eye contact. “Well, it could be because you like (Y/N) a lot. I can tell by numerous readings to your-” John cut Dorian off by shutting the door of the noodle shop in his face. “Real mature,” the android muttered before following his human to the car. 

“All I’m saying is that maybe you should offer to be her date for Christmas so she’s not miserable,” Dorian said after they got done with a crime scene. John stopped and looked at the android like he had suddenly sprouted wings and a second head. “You’ve got to be joking. This isn’t some RomCom Dorian!” Kennex hissed quietly as they got back into the car to go to the station. Dorian mumbled under his breath and blew out an unnecessary breath multiple times. Kennex groaned a headache starting to form over his left eye, “besides she’d never go for it,” he whispered almost to himself. The DRN grinned, “you could always offer and find out. I mean you practically see each other every day. It's like you're already dating,” he pointed out feeling giddy. John tapped the steering wheel with his thumb actually thinking over what he said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered making up his mind. 

You sat behind the wheel of your car in somewhat comfortable silence with John Kennex in the passenger seat, ‘I can’t believe I agreed to this’ you thought anxiously. You white-knuckled the wheel as you pulled down a long drive, “It’s going to be a packed house,” you warned sheepishly glancing over to the man next to you. John smirked, “this should be interesting,” he murmured leaning forward as the house came into view. It was old in style but well kept; the ivory paint looked as if it needed a new coat or two and the navy blue shudders were dusted with snow. Christmas lights twinkled in the dusk and the windows of the house glowed inviting people in from the cold. John gave a low whistle, “big place,” he breathed taking note of the large amount of land your family home was on. You smiled, “big family,” you said parking off to the side almost on the front lawn. Snow crunched under your boots as you got out of the warm car, shivering you slammed the car door shut. You looked around and smiled, everything was the same. John closed the passenger side door and quickly moved to the trunk for your bags; the faster he got inside the faster he got warm. The front door of the (Y/L/N) homestead opened and there were shouts of excitement; then suddenly you were tackled. Giving a very undignified screech you flew back into a snowbank with your four rambunctious brothers on top of you. It didn’t matter if the older of the four was at least three years older than you. 

“Ugh get off me you mouth breathers!” you grunted flailing around until you could breathe properly. John watched from the side; he was torn between laughing and wanting to be concerned. He snorted doing his best to keep quiet. “But we missed you!” the youngest of the boys said enthusiastically. His front tooth was missing and he was grinning from ear to ear. “I know Matty but I can’t breathe with Luka's fat butt on top of me,” you groaned. The little boy Matty hopped up hoping to ease the burden; like the little hero he was, he shoved the biggest of boys off of your abdomen. “Luka you butt move!” Matty shouted tackling the unsuspecting high school-aged boy into the snow. Now that the biggest was off of you you practically flung the other two boys into the snow along with him. “Ah, (Y/N)” one of them howled shaking the snow from his hair. You got up brushing off your coat, “heathens,” you murmured affectionately. The boys got off the ground eyeing John up and down like they were trying to decide if he were a threat. “Guys, this is John my...boyfriend,” you said the lie slipping off your tongue easily. Your siblings narrowed their eyes at the officer in scrutiny and John almost wanted to shuffle his feet. Eventually, they smiled and introduced themselves from top to bottom. Jamie, Luka, Parker, and Matty. John smiled and shook each one’s hand, even little Matty. You grinned happily when you saw that they got on okay, quickly moving forward you took one of the bags from John’s hands. “You all comin’ inside or are you gonna sleep out here tonight?” a voice boomed from the front porch. Your grin widened when you heard your father’s call; flinging the duffle over your shoulder you broke out into a jog up to the porch. You flung your arms around your fathers gleefully making the older man stumble back; he chuckled as he hugged you tightly. “How’s my girl?” he asked pulling back so he could take a proper look at you. 

You smiled sweetly, “I’m doing alright, I uh brought company with me like I said I would,” you mumbled nervously. Your father’s smile brightened when he saw John walk up the porch steps talking to your brothers about something or other. They seemed to be really into it, “John if you stick a knife in your prosthetic I will have to hurt you,” you warned somewhat teasingly. Your brothers choked back laughter when John made the “uh oh,” face, “how do you do that?” he wondered openmouthed. Sighing you crossed your arms, “because I know you and I know them,” you said dryly. Your brothers snickered filing into the house to get out of the cold; your father laughed and took John’s hand in his when he offered it, “It’s nice to meet you, Sir,” John greeted respectfully. “It’s nice to finally meet you, son. I’m Henry, ” 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It had taken you and John a good hour before you made it to your childhood room, sighing you gently placed the duffle you were lugging around onto the queen-sized bed. “My mother was way too happy to meet you I think,” you said making a face. Kennex snorted from where he was being nosy, “mother’s love me,” he said cockily. You watched as he examined your giant collection of books he pulled one out and smirked, “well that’s nostalgic,” he murmured reading the back. You chuckled walking over and plucked your copy of Harry Potter from his hands, “I’m surprised John, you a reader?” you asked feigning shock. “I read...in school,” he mumbled scrunching up his nose slightly. It was the cutest damn thing you ever saw. Putting the book back in its place you eyed the bed with trepidation, “I didn’t’ think about this part,” you muttered scratching your head. “Nervous to share a bed with me?” John joked as he flipped through one of your old journals. Squeaking you yanked it from his hands, glaring you smacked him with it, “no I just picture you being a bed hog,” you said placing the book back where he found it. You turned back to face him biting your lip, “ I can-” you stopped noticing suddenly how close the two of you were. John gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, fingers stroking along your cheek. Electricity buzzed around you and after a moment you both leaned in.

A sudden bout of screaming made you abruptly pull apart; running past your door was Matty with a bucket on his head being chased by two of your cousins. The screaming continued until you heard a crash from the end of the hallway followed by a long drawn-out “I’m okay!” you put a hand to your mouth trying to suppress your giggles. “No Matty, the stairs are that way!” a distant voice called. Your eyes widened and you were out your bedroom door within seconds. John huffed a laugh, “I’m not even mad,” he whispered following you out the door. He stopped short when he saw you, your foot braced against the hallway wall pulling on the bucket that was stuck to your brother’s dome; with another sharp tug it popped off making you stumble back arms windmilling. “Thanks (Y/N)!” Matty cheered and raced down the stairs with your two cousins following behind. John plucked the bucket from your hands and hooked its handle over a nearby doorknob; with your hands-free, he moved in again only to stop when a voice shouted up the stairs, “dinner’s ready!” Kennex laughed humorously. “I can’t win,” he sighed running a hand through his hair. You gave him a sympathetic look pink dusting your cheeks, “Yeah that’s going to happen a lot,” you said grimacing. John threw his hands up in the air and moved around you to get to the stairs, smirking you stopped the man by grabbing the front of his shirt dragging him down to you, “so you have to seize the moment,” you whispered inches from his lips. 

A camera flash made you growl and pull back, at the bottom of the stairs stood one of your brothers. An old vintage polaroid camera in his hands, he grinned pulling the picture from the bottom and started shaking it. “Oh you are a dead man,” you hissed. Luka’s eyes widened, you impressively jumped from the top step just as he bolted. Landing nimbly on your feet you twisted and sprinted after him, “mom told me to do it!” Luka tried to plead with you terror in his voice. “I don’t care if the Pope told you to do it!” you called back. John casually walked down the stairs and peered around the corner in the direction of all the noise. He winced when he saw you catch your brother. You curled an arm around the boy, who was twice your size, and brought him crashing to the floor. The house shook and nobody seemed to bat an eye at the disturbance. “Festive,” John muttered and looked over when he heard Henry start laughing into his whiskey. “You don’t even know the half of it, John,” he said offering a second glass. They watched as you placed a knee on his back and pluck the picture from his limp hand. The boy groaned pitifully, “and that’s why I don’t need to give you the talk,” Henry said with a nod and silent cheers before striding into the dining room. “I think I’m in love,” John downed the whiskey quickly and moved towards you. Taking your wrist he pulled you into a little room that housed the washer and dryer, “sorry about-” you began but was cut off by John’s lips on yours. Breaking it off gently needing the chance to breathe you gaped, “what was that for?” you asked blushing beet red. John grinned eyes glowing, “I think we failed at this whole fake relationship thing. Why don’t we try a real relationship this time,” he suggested. You choked on a laugh, “why detective, are you asking me out?” John smirked, “I’m asking for way more than that sweetheart,” he whispered placing a sweet kiss on your forehead and moved out the door towards the promise of food. Your face grew even redder, “I - uh-okay,” you spluttered as you walked out of the laundry room. Your mom stopped by you and leaned up against the wall arms crossed a dish towel hung loosely in her hand. “I’m quite impressed by him sweetie,” she complimented making you roll your eyes. “He’s smart, has a good job, handsome,” she sang and made a grabbing motion with her hands at the level where his butt would have been. “Mom!” you hissed mortified. She laughed and winked as she too moved to the dining room, “I don’t know how I’m going to last until new years,” you laughed nervously following her. 

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@spenceneedsahug

[literatehiss]

Trust Fall - Blood & Family

cw: Physical Violence & Injury The Lukas’s are upset with Peter over the failure of his ritual, Simon and Elias are displeased with their reaction. Read on AO3 here That fucking Archivist.

Peter coughed, wincing at the pain in his ribs and the blood that bubbled up between his lips.

Damn Eye bastards could never leave well enough alone could they? His ritual could have worked, it should have worked. All it took was one bitter old woman to ruin it.

It had cost so much money.

It was by no means enough to really disrupt the families finances, but it was enough for them to notice, to be irritated. If he bothered to do the maths it would have only really been a few years worth of his allowance. It didn’t matter. He had wasted all that money and they were angry.

He was always a disappointment, they had hoped he would be a good choice for the head of the family when he was young, the powers of their patron had come so naturally to him, but he just wasn’t quite good enough. A few scattered friendships, his relationship with James or Elias as he was now calling himself, a too cheery disposition. It all weighed on him as proof that he was useless, just like his uncle had said, over and over again as the men he had hired took their time making sure he was ‘properly regretful’ for what had happened.

Peter was lucky really. They didn’t really care. He had received his punishment and everyone would be back to ignoring him as per usual by the end of the week. If he lasted that long. Well, ok, now he knew he was being morbid, he had survived worse after all.

He was aware that he was leaving smears of blood on the walls of the apartment hallway as he stumbled and dragged himself to the flat he sometimes shared with Elias. His on-again off-again husband wouldn’t be at home, it was the middle of the work day after all and Peter had dragged the fog of the Lonely around himself like a thick blanket, enough to keep himself from Elias’s ever present gaze. His fingers were numb with cold and blood loss as he fumbled with his keys.

The apartment was cold, sterile. It wasn’t due to any real aesthetic reason, they were both simply not at home enough to both making any personal touches. A spark of hot pain lanced up his side and he fell into the wall, his teeth gritting as he dragged himself pitifully to the large black sofa that sat in the living room.

He had never been so glad Elias had convinced him not to go with the white sofa, they would never have got the blood stains out of it.

He slumped onto the leather with a huff as the impact winded him. Peter closed his eyes to block out the sunlight streaming in through the huge windows that took up the entirety of the eastern wall of the apartment. Exhaustion hit him quickly after that and he drifted off to sleep, arm still clutched around his chest protectively, unaware of the being stood at the window.

Half-way across London, Elias Bouchard received a phone call.

“Why is Peter lying half dead in your apartment Elias?” He couldn’t be sure whether it was the words or the fact that Simon Fairchild sounded so serious, that made his blood chill.

“What?!”

“Oh so it wasn’t you. Thank goodness, I was thinking of having to do something quite unfortunate.” The phone clicked off abruptly.

“Wait. What?”

Simon really wished he had bothered to get a key for Peter’s new flat, he had always had one for all his other places, just made it easier, and these weren’t the sort of windows you could just keep cracked open ‘just in case’. But Elias ‘liked his privacy’ which was the funniest joke the other man had ever made as far as Simon was concerned. Multiple lifetimes with varying interests had lead him to have at least a passing knowledge of how to break open locks but it still took him far to long to get the door open. He could barely see Peter through the fog the other man had summoned around himself, but he could see the blood pooling on the couch and dripping slowly onto the floor. The bright red a shock against the monochrome of the apartment.

Simon waded through the mist, placing a nervous pair of fingers to Peter's pulse. Alive, if weak. His presence probably wasn't helping matters, the Forsaken could heal Peter far faster than any vague attempt on his part to give him medical attention could ever provide. He couldn't just leave him though. Couldn’t just abandon the young man he had seen grow from a scared little child to a depressed and irritable teenager to a proud and confident adult that had enough power to be able to attempt his own ritual, even if it had been disrupted and failed so spectacularly.

Simon had always been so very proud of him.

He levered Peter up to slip his coat off him, throwing it in the sink with water and salt, might as well try and stop the blood staining the thing, god knows how fond Peter was of that coat. Blood had clotted and dried into his shirt and jumper and Simon ended up rummaging through the practically unused kitchen for scissors to cut them off him. Peter winced and shifted as he tried to gently pull the fabric away from his wounds.

Wiping away the blood proved to be a trial all of its own, immediately flowing again each time he managed to wash it away. A palm to his lad’s forehead proved him to be burning up, by which he was starting to reach the same warmth as someone who hadn’t accepted the Forsaken into their heart, which was a startling difference in temperature. He kept the floor to ceiling windows open and made a stiff breeze flow into the room. Far too cold for the average person but it should keep Peter at just the right level of corpse-like cold. He felt the skin under his fingers suddenly shift as Peter’s ribs snapped back into place. A disconcerting sensation but one that Simon was thankful for, knowing it meant that Peter was healing. The fog was starting to fade, the most life-threatening of the injuries having fixed themselves.

He knew the Lukas’s would be upset with Peter but this was a bit much surely? He had never wished so fervently that he had tried to persuade Peter over to the beautiful Vast when he was younger, before it became too late. He couldn’t imagine hurting any of his own protege’s, not like this, not even if they had truly disappointed him. He was just about to consider dragging Peter into a cold bath when the front door of the apartment violently slammed open, crashing against the wall with an almighty bang. A panting and sweating Elias stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm, eyes wide in alarm.

“What happened?”

Elias was panicking. He really wasn’t expecting to get a call from Simon on a Wednesday afternoon accusing him of attacking Peter. Apart from the mild hilarity of the thought of him being able to take down a man double his size and weight, he was also alarmed that he hadn’t noticed anything. He rushed out of his office, flying down the steps towards the lobby of the Institute. A body slammed into his own, the form of his Archivist standing in front of him, faux concern and sharp interest glittering in her eyes as she stopped him.

“Elias you seem to be in quite the hurry. Is there a problem?”

He pushed forward and grabbed her shirt

“Gertrude if I find this was you I will kill you myself. I didn’t do anything about you destroying his ritual but this is just unnecessary.” She frowned and he immediately was shown that she wasn’t the cause of Peter’s injuries. He pushed her to the side, her own surprise the only reason he was capable of doing such a thing. Elias stormed past, ignoring the calls of Gertrude and Rosie behind him.

London was a miserable place to travel through if you were trying to get anywhere in a hurry. He had a car but the thought of using it to get home in any sort of reasonable time at this hour was laughable in this traffic so he pushed his way to the nearest tube station, something he normally only did when his car broke down or he was particularly hungry. There was nothing like being packed in with so many people for sucking up all their trauma.

Right now all the people were getting on his very last nerve.

His jacket got caught on the door of the tube as he ran out and rather than stop he just pulled and pulled until the fabric ripped. Slinging it over his arm, he ran towards his rarely used flat, finding the door already unlocked he slammed it open.

Fog curled around his feet, emanating from the figuring lying on the couch and staining it with his blood. Simon was sat next to him, a handful of fabric pressed against a wound on Peter’s side.

“How is he? What happened?”

“I have no idea to be honest Elias. I thought it might be Gertrude but we both know he wouldn’t be alive if it was her”

“No it wasn’t her. I think it was the Lukas’s, probably Nathaniel organised it.”

“Oh dear. Yes I thought as much.” Simon said with an exasperated sigh that said a lot for how long he had been allied with the Lukas’s.

Elias reached for the Eye to tell him how Peter was doing but it just pushed back against him, angry of him using his powers to help someone rather than just watching, observing.

It took two days for Peter to wake up. the Forsaken protesting against their intrusive presence. Elias took time off work for the first time in a decade to watch over him. When his cold blue eyes eventually pried themselves open, it was to see Simon sat on the floor next to him, playing with something on his phone while he could hear Elias complaining down a phone to some poor employee.

“S’mon?” he mumbled, the fog of the Lonely already trying to whisk him away, misty tendrils wrapping around him.

“I’m here lad, don’t worry.”

“Hurts”

“I bet. Nathaniel? Conrad?” A shrug.

“Th’ watched. All of ‘em. Hired people.”

“Didn’t even have the balls to it themselves I see.” This was spat angrily from over his shoulder by Elias. A familiar ringed hand came over the back of the sofa and stroked fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and rested in the company of his two favourite people. Not that he would ever tell Elias that, the man’s ego didn’t need the boost, he would get simply unbearable. He listened to their hushed talking before slipping back to sleep.

The Lukas’s never knew that anyone found out what they did to Peter. They never linked the sinking of so many of their ships or the dropping of so many of their investments to that day. When a cousin that was brought before Court suddenly found a rush of evidence against him, well he should have been more careful. It wasn’t as if their longest allies would turn on them like that. They weren’t the type to keep in contact so if the hired men they had used went missing? Well that was none of their business. What happened to those men? Well Elias and Simon would never say, but the only one who was ever found was curled up crying at the top of Everest with his eyes clawed out. Peter stood at the stern of the Tundra, smiling as he watched one of the Fairchild’s ships pass his own as he pressed a kiss to his newest wedding ring.

[natashasbanner]

Welcome to Storybrooke

What if Bruce and Natasha lived in the Enchanted Forest before the Queen's curse and were brought to the Land Without Magic?

Bruce/Nat OUAT AU that no one asked for.

A/N: So I did a thing. This is kind of based on a Tumblr prompt and something I've wanted to play with for a long time. Someone asked if I'd ever write a Brucenat fairytale AU and this that, with a twist from one of my favorite shows. 

This will have three parts and you don't need any knowledge of Once Upon a Time to enjoy. 

Also on AO3 X

Bruce started his day like he did any other. His alarm clock sounded at four in the afternoon, but he was mostly awake by then. He got up, took a shower and made himself some breakfast before heading into town. He still had a while before he had to be at work, but he liked to enjoy a little bit of daylight before spending his entire night at Storybrooke’s hospital. 

The quiet town didn’t have a busy emergency room during the day and at night it was a ghost town, but Bruce didn’t mind the quiet. When he finished medical school, he always imagined his days would be spent elbow deep in trauma after trauma in the big city. As it turned out the occasional bumps and bruises that he dealt with suited him well enough, better for his nerves. 

Bruce’s apartment was only a few blocks from Main Street and it was a beautifully sunny day. He grabbed his bag from where he left it by the door every morning when he returned from the hospital and headed for Main Street. 

His first stop was always Granny’s. Her granddaughter was out front, like she always was, updating the sign and sent him a smile as he passed. He ordered two coffees and pastry for later before moving on down the sidewalk, toward the boarded up library. 

Only today was different. The library was still closed off and boarded up, but the clock on the tower that overlooked the street was actually working. For as long as Bruce remembered, the clock remained pointed to 8:15. He paused on the corner and watched the new anomaly with wonder. 

If Storybrooke was anything, it was consistent. The days ran together, each one nearly identical to the last. It was exhausting sometimes, the monotony of it, but most of the time he didn’t even notice. The clock working suddenly was cause for a moment of pause. He watched for a few more minutes, before moving on.

His next stop was the bookstore tucked between the hardware store and a small deli. Because the library was closed, Bruce spent a fair amount of time searching the shelves for something new to read from the old titles. He could spend hours among the books, but they weren’t the only reason he frequented the store as often as he did. 

Bruce pushed open the door and a bell sounded above his head. The owner and sole employee of the small store, Natasha, peeked her head around the shelves. She narrowed her eyes when she realized it was him and set down the books she’d been shelving. 

“You’re late,” she said accusingly as she walked toward him. 

He held out the second coffee in his hand as a peace offering. “I was distracted.” 

“What could possibly be so interesting in this town?” She frowned and wrinkled her nose in distaste. 

“The clock over the library’s working,” he said, taking a seat at one of the chairs by the front window of the store. 

Natasha followed his lead and sat opposite him, craning her neck to try and get a look for herself. She sank into the chair with an unamused shrug. 

“It hasn’t worked as long as I’ve lived here,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“And even before that,” he added. 

She smiled softly and tilted her head to the side. “What’s it say about us that the most interesting thing that’s happened to us is the stupid clock getting fixed?” 

“I think it’s a sign,” Bruce said, watching over the rim of his steaming cup. 

She raised her eyebrow at him. “A sign of what?” 

“Change.” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This place will never change.” 

Bruce sighed, but didn’t say anything. He was well aware of her resentment of this place. She wanted to travel, see the world, but she was confined to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. But that was life sometimes, her husband got a good job on a fishing boat and they’d packed up and moved to Storybrooke. He felt for her, he really did. 

“Nat?” He said softly, reaching out to pat her knee. 

She looked up reluctantly, but made eye contact. 

“Have you heard from him?” 

Natasha blew out a long breath and shook her head. “Not for a few weeks, but they’re scheduled back soon.” 

“That’s good,” Bruce said, struggling to keep his tone even. 

“Yeah,” she said and looked back out the window. 

Bruce sat back in his chair and watched her. Bruce didn’t find out that Natasha was married until he’d known her for almost a year. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her, she was beautiful inside and out and one of the funniest people he’d ever met. But he’d never come between her and her husband, despite the fact the he spent months at a time out in the Atlantic. He was happy with their friendship, no matter what. 

“Tell me about your book,” she said suddenly, meeting his eyes once again. 

Bruce chuckled and pulled it out of his bag. 

“You were right. It was amazing.” 

“Maybe you should listen to me more often,” she teased. “I’m kind of an expert.” 

“Lesson learned,” he conceded. “What do you recommend for this week?” 

“Follow me, Doc.” 

X

As much as Natasha hated to admit it, Bruce had been right. Storybrooke was changing. She could feel it in the air when she opened the store in the mornings, when she walked to Granny’s for coffee and breakfast. Every time she walked past that damned clock above the library. 

The town was going insane. A coma patient just walked out of the hospital, the sheriff died and was replaced by the woman the mayor seemed to want to run out of town more than anything. Her shop was the busiest it has ever been and a letter arrived from Alex saying he’d be home in two weeks’ time. 

When Bruce finally came back into her shop again, Natasha was relieved. She hated the feeling of living the same day over and over in a town she resented keeping her prisoner. But she’d give anything for a boring day with all the chaos going on around them.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, rounding on him before he was fully in the store. 

He held out the usual coffee he bought for her along with a pastry bag from Granny’s. 

“I brought a peace offering,” he said. “If that helps?” 

Natasha accepted the coffee and eyed the bag suspiciously. 

“I haven’t seen you in a month.” 

“The hospital’s been busy,” he defended. “A man in a coma just walked out.” 

“I’ve been busy here and lonely without my favorite customer.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She took the pastry bag and peeked inside before looking back at him. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

They made their way over to their usual chairs and sat together quietly for a few minutes before Natasha decided to break the silence. 

“Alex is coming home,” she said softly. 

Bruce smiled and hesitated a moment before he spoke. 

“That’s awesome. Did he say when?” 

Natasha tilted her head to the side with a smile. “Two weeks.”

He tried to hide it, but reading Bruce was something she excelled at. She always knew that Bruce liked her and she couldn’t deny the stirring of feelings she felt for him, only growing as time went on. But she had Alex and he was finally coming home. Being drawn to Bruce romantically was not an option. 

“I’m happy for you, Nat,” he said and it was sincere. 

Natasha ducked her head. “Thank you, Bruce.” 

They lapsed into silence again, but this time Bruce was the one to break it. 

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” 

“Nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. 

Bruce smiled. “Come to the Miner’s Day festival with me.” 

“Alright, I’ve never been.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

X

The next evening, Bruce showed up after she’d closed the store for the night. Natasha thought he looked adorable in his winter coat and scarf. He had two cups from Granny’s in his gloved hands. 

“You’re spoiling me,” she teased, taking one of the cups. 

“It’s a perfect night for hot cocoa.” 

“Lead the way, Doc.” she said and nodded down Main Street. 

He offered her his arm and she slipped hers around his elbow. 

“I did not know you’d never been to a Miner’s Day festival.” 

“Alex and I were supposed to go last year, but he didn’t come back. I didn’t feel like going by myself.” 

“You’re in for a treat,” he promised and Natasha couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah?”

Bruce bumped his hip against hers and she laid her head against his shoulder. 

“Why haven’t we ever hung out outside the store?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “I never realized.” 

“We should get out more often,” she said and he chuckled. 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” 

Natasha lifted her head and smiled up at him. “We’ll figure it out. That’s what friends are for, right?” 

He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Absolutely.” 

She laid her head back on his shoulder with a smile. 

X 

Of course the first Miner’s Day festival Natasha got to experience some idiot knocks out the power. Bruce was convinced the town had lost its collective minds.This was only the latest in a string of strange events to happen in the town lately. 

The candles were a nice save, but Natasha didn’t want to hang around for long after the power went out. 

They walked back to her store together, arm in arm, a candle held between them. 

“Is it just me or did this place start getting interesting overnight?” she asked. 

“That’s putting it nicely,” he scoffed. 

She shrugged, her head on his shoulder. “You were right, things are changing.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

They stopped in front of her store, the door to the apartment above on the side of the building. She was staring at him, her gaze intense like she could see everything about him in just a look. 

“I don’t think so,” she said and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Bruce.” 

“‘Night.” 

He waited on the sidewalk until he saw a light turn on on the second level. This was dangerous territory they were crossing into, but Bruce was certain he couldn’t go back if he tried. 

X

“The town’s been quiet.” Bruce commented as he sipped his coffee at Granny’s

Natasha sat across from him, her head resting in her hand as she looked at him. She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I never thought I’d see the day where I looked forward to a dull evening.” 

Bruce chuckled and brought his hand up to rest over his heart. 

“I’ll try to be more entertaining next time.” 

“You know what I meant,” she said and nudged his shin with her toe. “All the excitement has made me appreciate the quiet days. As much as I hate to admit it.” 

Bruce smiled softly and bumped his knee against hers under the table. “I knew you’d come around, eventually.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t sound so smug.” 

“You like it here,” he teased. 

“Like is a strong word,” she said. “But it’s alright, for now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he conceded. 

Natasha smiled and they lapsed into silence. Their food was brought out to their table and they ate in comfortable silence. 

A few minutes into their meal the bell over the door jingled. Bruce didn’t think anything of it, people came and went the entire time they were there. His back was to the door and he didn’t even bother turning around. He only paused when he realized Natasha dropped her fork. 

He looked up and saw that she was staring at whoever just walked in, her mouth open slightly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

She blinked a few times, ignoring his question. 

“Alex?” she said and stood from the booth. 

Bruce turned around and watched her walk over to the man standing in the middle of the diner. He recognized him vaguely from the picture Natasha kept behind the counter of the store. He was tall and handsome with a rugged edge. Bruce watched as Alex and Natasha held onto each other awkwardly for a moment. 

He turned his back to them when they pulled back to look at each other. He could hear their quiet conversation.

“You weren’t supposed to back for two days,” Natasha accused. 

“I know. We got back early.” 

“You could have told me.” 

“I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Consider me surprised.” 

Bruce could hear the smile in Natasha’s voice and his heart sank into his stomach. He stood from the booth suddenly and tossed enough money to cover their meals on the table. He ducked his head and hurried past the couple, ignoring Natasha calling his name. 

The air outside was freezing and after a block of walking he realized he left his coat in the booth he all but ran from. It was stupid and a little immature to just up and leave the second Nat’s husband returned, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure when his quiet longing had turned into full blown feelings, but Bruce was certain he loved Natasha Romanoff. 

But she was married and seeing her with Alex hurt more than he cared to admit. Maybe the distance would do him some good. 

X

“What the hell was that, Banner?” Natasha demanded as she stormed into the emergency room. 

Bruce looked up from his book and glanced at the clock on the counter. It was after two in the morning and he stood from his chair, immediately concerned. 

“Nat? What are you doing here?” He rounded the counter and crossed the room to her. “Is everything okay?” 

He reached out for her, but she waved his hand away. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why did you run out like that?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Bruce sighed and looked down at his feet. 

“I thought you and Alex would want some time to catch up. Alone.” 

“So you left without a word in the middle of dinner. That’s what you’re sticking with?” 

He nodded, but still didn’t look at her. Natasha sighed and reached out to touch his arm. 

“Bruce,” she said. “Please look at me.” 

Reluctantly, he lifted his head. 

“I know, okay.” 

“Know what?” 

She sighed and took a step closer. “I feel it too.” 

Bruce shook his head and backed up. “No, you don’t have to do this. Natasha, your husband just came home.” 

“Maybe I don’t care,” she said with a shrug. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she snapped. 

Bruce deflated and remained quiet while she paced in front of him. 

“You were right, Bruce. I don’t know what it is, but something in this town is changing. I have these dreams and they feel so real and they’re always the same. You and I, together and happy. I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t help but feel drawn to you.” 

“I know what you mean,” he said. 

There were memories in his head that felt so vivid, so real. But they were impossible, a completely separate life he lived, one he lived with Natasha. They were happy and it wasn’t complicated and Bruce would give everything for them to be true. They weren’t though, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

“But it’s not real.” 

She took the last step to close the distance between them and reached out to touch his cheek. 

“It could be,” she said softly. 

Bruce leaned in to her touch and let himself hope for a moment, just a moment before reaching up and grabbing her fingers. 

“You’re married, Nat.” 

“I don’t have to be.” 

Bruce chuckled and gave her fingers a soft squeeze. 

“We both know the second that happened you’d be on the next bus out of town.” 

“Come with me,” she said. 

“My whole life’s here.” 

“Then let’s start over. You and me, we could go anywhere.” 

Bruce ducked his head. “Natasha, go home. Get some sleep.” 

“It won’t change anything,” she said defiantly, pulling her hand from his grasp. 

Bruce looked up and saw the silent tears running down her face. 

He swallowed and smiled sadly. “I know.” 

She lingered in front of him for a few more seconds before turning on her heel and hurrying out of the hospital. 

Bruce watched her go and his heart broke more with every step. 

X

Bruce spent the next few days sulking alone in his apartment. He saw Natasha in passing a few times, but she ignored him. Alex was with her a few times and it hurt, but Bruce knew it was for the best. They wanted different things. He was content with his life in Storybrooke, but she wanted more, so much more than he could ever give her. She resented Alex, as much as she tried to hide it, and Bruce couldn’t live with himself if he ever did the same. 

On the third day he decided to get some fresh air. He avoided Main Street and headed for the docks. With a coffee from home, he found an empty bench and settled in to watch the water. 

His coffee was nearly finished when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to find Natasha standing beside him, hands in her coat pockets. She didn’t look angry anymore, just tired. 

“Can I sit down?”

“Of course.” Bruce moved over to give her room on the bench. 

She sat and looked out at the water, but didn’t say anything. Eventually, Bruce was the one to break the silence. 

“How have you been?” 

She sighed. “I’ve been better.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Alex and I are getting divorced.” 

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say to that and her expression gave nothing away. 

“It wasn’t you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she added a few moments later. “We decided it was for the best. We weren’t happy anymore.” 

“I really am sorry, Nat.” He reached over and patted her knee. 

“I’m leaving, Bruce.” 

Bruce blew out a breath and looked out at the water. He figured as much, but it still felt like someone punched him in the gut. 

“Where will you go?” He asked. 

“New York,” she said with certainty. 

“When?” 

“By the end of the month.” 

He looked over at her again. “I’ll miss you, Nat.” 

“You can always come visit,” she said and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Bruce smiled at that. “You’ll get sick of me.”

Natasha looked at him seriously. “Never.” 

They lapsed back into silence, both staring out at the water. It was cold, but the sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the waves. 

“Do you think we’d ever have a chance?” she asked after a few minutes. 

“Maybe,” Bruce answered. “One day.” 

Natasha sighed and stood. “I need to start packing.” 

Bruce stood as well and in an instant Natasha was in his arms, holding him tightly against her. He hugged her close and rested his cheek against her head. 

“I wish things could have worked out differently,” she whispered against his chest. 

He leaned back and kissed her forehead. 

“Me too.” 

X

The mayor’s kid was brought into the hospital a few nights later and the entire place descended into chaos. The mayor and the sheriff were at each other’s throats and it was giving Bruce a massive headache. 

The sun had just come up when he was finally able to step outside for a much needed breather. His phone rang and he immediately recognized Natasha’s number and picked up.

“I heard you had an exciting night, Doc,” she said, teasing. 

“More like aggravating,” he corrected with a soft chuckle. “I’ve never seen two people fight as much as those two, I swear.” 

Natasha laughed. “How much longer do you have?” 

“Two hours,” he said with a sigh. 

“Meet me at Granny’s when you’re done, I’ll buy you breakfast,” she said. “If you’re up for it.” 

“I’d love that.” He smiled to himself. 

“I should go back inside.” 

She started to say something but her sentence was cut short but static on the line. A strange light pulsed away from the hospital and spread through the town. The air was pushed from his lungs and he gasped for breath. Suddenly the world felt more vibrant that it ever had. 

Memories rushed into his mind, the life he thought had been a dream was real. And the more he remembered, the more he felt like weeping. 

And then he remembered he’d been talking on the phone. It was still pressed to his ear but the line was dead silent. 

“Natalia?”

[letspartyrightnowplease]

When the Storm Ends

ao3!

This would literally only ever happen to him. Dan slumps against the steering wheel and sighs, heart still coming down from the whole incident. It’s quiet, save for the blood rushing in his ears.

Of course he’d literally almost die days before Christmas. Maybe he shouldn’t have driven again in the first place. Maybe he shouldn’t have looked away from a road that was solid ice and then driven off of it. Seriously, wrapping his car around a tree really wouldn’t be part of this whole “Christmas spirit” thing he’s been trying out. Dan sits back and looks out at the bright, white snow all around him. Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have been driving today; there have been alerts for days of a snow storm and it looks like Dan’s caught in the middle of it. He takes the car out of park and slowly hits the gas, but the car doesn’t move. He presses harder and Dan hears the awful sound of his wheels turning in mud. Damn this weather. He angrily gets out of his shitty, old car and walks around to see his tires stuck in mud and ice and some gross-looking sludge. He wraps his arms around his freezing-self, breath fogging out of his mouth as he sighs deeply. Could this get any worse? He gets back into his car for warmth and to maybe think up a plan. God, the last house he saw was probably a few miles back, and that’s too damn far for him to walk in this freezing cold. He pulls out his phone, and, yeah, no service. Fuck. Looks like he’s really doing this. - His cheeks burn in the cold, and his fingers can’t be shoved any farther into his pockets. He had grabbed his thickest sweater and put it on under his big coat, a scarf, that was probably in his car for ten years, wrapped around his neck and mouth. He thinks his toes fell off maybe a mile back, and at this point, the shivers have become so intense that his entire body is vibrating. He decided against carrying his suitcase, but grabbed the essentials, which was actually just his charger. He made sure to put anything else valuable under his seats and then locked his car. Every once in a while he checks his phone for service, but something tells him he won’t find any out here. He keeps walking. There’s something about being alone with yourself for so long, without much to do but walk and be in your own thoughts, that really just makes you think. Everything is still and quiet out in this open area, but his thoughts are loud and go as quickly as they come, and he can’t help but go back to what’s been keeping his mind occupied lately: going home. He thinks about his nana and how happy he’ll be to see her. But then he thinks about his mum and Adrian, and, guiltily, feels less happy about it. Not to even mention his dad, who probably won’t even be able to make it. Why does that make his chest feel less tight? There’s nothing wrong with his dad, or his mum and Adrian for that matter, but seeing them all and being back in that house causes this sort of shadow to fall over him. Bad things generally happen when he comes home, but usually not to this extent. To think he thought this time would be any different.

So far it’s been pretty shit. God, he can’t believe he was so stupid that he literally ran off the road! And now he’s freezing his fucking tits off, most likely getting frostbite, and thinking about the same old thing he’s been dwelling on for weeks. Alright, maybe that’s enough thinking for a bit. He pulls his stiff hands out of his pockets and pulls his hood tighter around him. He’s breathing heavy, the walk long and tiring, especially for someone like him who skips out on exercising even when he knows he shouldn’t. He digs his hands into his pockets and looks up, the snow around him thick and dense and blocking his view. It’s too beautiful for its own good, Dan thinks, little snowflakes falling on his mostly frozen cheeks.

In his limited vision, a small silhouette appears in his line of sight. Dan squints his eyes and tries to make out what it is through all the snowfall. He breathes a sigh of relief when it looks to be a house. Dan remembers driving past it, not knowing that it would most likely belong to his savior. He happily speeds up his walk, wanting warmth as soon as possible, and when he’s halfway there, he slows down and let’s what he’s about to do sink in.

God, what does he do? Obviously he needs to explain to them what happened, but how? Anxiety licks up his stomach and squeezes his chest, something in him telling him to turn around and forget about it, but he literally can’t do that.

He rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath to calm his suddenly racing heart, and he continues walking towards the house, words and sentences swirling in his head about what exactly he plans to say.

He walks along the path, towards the door, and eyes the half-deflated Christmas decorations dawning the lawn. Hopefully he doesn’t get murdered.

Dan takes a deep breath in and knocks when he reaches the door. He steps back and waits.

And nothing.

He panics for a second, wonders if maybe no one’s home, or if they are, maybe they’re asleep, but then he remembers it’s like three in the afternoon. Just when he’s about to make a run for it, the door opens to a frazzled, wide-eyed man.

Dan forgets to speak for a second and watches the man’s face turn to confusion. “Uh, hi.” Dan says, then takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I got my car, um, stuck and I have no service, and I was wondering if I could make a call? Maybe have somebody come and get me?”

“Oh! Well I really would love to do that, but everything’s been out for a few hours now. But please, please, come in. You look frozen!”

The man steps back and opens the door wider, and Dan can’t help but smile thankfully and walk inside. He’s immediately wrapped in warmth and the scent of burning wood. He shakes the snow off his shoes and wonders if maybe he should take them off. He looks to the man for guidance, but he isn’t helpful.

“Thank you, really, I feel like I’ve been out there for hours.” Dan says, the both of them still standing in the entrance way. It’s lit by a torch sitting on a little table, and Dan curses the weather once more.

“Ah, yeah. I’m really sorry about that. I basically live in the middle of nowhere so there’s not a lot around here. Do you know where your car got stuck?” He asks, gesturing towards an entrance into the kitchen.

“Some road with a really long name. I drove off it and slid right into a ditch.”

“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” The man asks, looking genuinely worried for someone he just met. Dan just waves his hand.

“Worst thing that could’ve happened was a heart attack, but I’m fine.” Dan explains. He watches the man pull out various things from a cupboard. When he looks at it, he can’t help but smile. “I’m Dan, by the way. And like, I know I’ve said it, but thank you again.”

“Phil.” The man supplies and turns to finish what he’s doing. “Okay, we’ve got water and cereal for now, but later, I have stuff for sandwiches.”

“No milk?” Dan asks, the filter in his brain seemingly disappearing and he immediately wants to apologize. He’s barely said ten words to a man he’s just met and now he looks like an entitled twat. Nice. He watches Phil blush and grab the back of his neck, eyes looking away from him.

“I’ve actually been out of it for like a week. Like I said, everything’s pretty far away from here, so I usually only go out when I really need to.”

Dan laughs. “No worries. But they do have ways you can do that online.”

“Costs too much,” is all he says and shrugs. Dan wants to laugh at that. He seems pretty well off, at least according to the house and the huge decorations and the amount of nick nacks littering just the kitchen and entrance way. He wonders if Phil pays the bills here alone, if he wakes up alone, and if he spends his days in this house alone.

Maybe Phil gets lonely like he does, and that’s why he was so willing to let a complete stranger into his home, and why his first instinct is to feed him what’s left of his already depleting groceries. Or maybe Dan thinks too much about everything and should take the glass of water and bowl of dry cereal that Phil is offering him.

“I don’t mean to assume anything, especially since this is such a strange situation, but please, anytime you want me out, I’m out.”

They walk to a table in the kitchen and sit across from each other. Phil starts to eat the cereal with his fingers, so Dan does the same.

“Oh, God, don’t even worry about it. Please, you can stay here as long as it takes to get a hold of someone for help. This must be such a mess for you.” He stops to laugh a bit and Dan can’t look away. “I have nothing better to do anyway.” Phil smiles at him and the warmth must be getting to him because he melts a bit.

Dan takes a drink of water. “You aren’t going to see any family?” Dan asks, the question seemingly fine, but then he kind of wants to take it back. Maybe he has a rough time going back home, too.

“I wish.” Never mind, Dan thinks. “I was going to head out there, but my plane got canceled.” He seems bummed about it, and Dan hates that he brought it up. “But what about you? Were you heading to your family’s?”

“Yeah, actually. Thought I’d make the trip for Christmas for once, but turns out no matter how hard I might try, something's always keeping me back.”

“Sounds like fate to me.” Phil says, a small smile on his lips.

“How so?” Dan challenges. He’s never really believed in fate before, never really wanted to.

“Think about it. What if my plane didn’t get canceled? I’d be with my family. Where’d you be? Probably still looking for a place to warm up and get into contact with somebody. What if you hadn’t decided to spend Christmas with your family? I wouldn’t have anyone to help me get more wood for the fireplace.”

“I feel like I’ve been tricked somehow.” Dan says and Phil laughs like he just said the funniest thing in the world, and, honestly, Dan believes it.

“But seriously, like, I have no idea when the power will be turned back on. Looking at this storm, it might be awhile. I’ve been saving my laptop battery for a movie later tonight, and I have way too many board games to even keep track of, so you’re the one who’s gonna have to probably sneak out when I come back in for more cereal breaks. So don’t worry about anything. What do they say? Mi casa, su casa?”

Dan thinks about maybe tearing up. He looks at the crinkles in Phil’s eyes as he smiles at him, plopping more cereal sloppily into his mouth, and thinks maybe he died when he swerved off the road and this is heaven. “Anyone ever told you that you’re probably the kindest person ever?” Okay, maybe he didn’t mean for that to slip out, especially so fondly already, but it did, and he kind of wants to see where this goes for him. He’s not expecting anything, but he wouldn’t be disappointed if Phil were to flirt back.

“A few.” He shrugs. Dan can’t tear his eyes away from the smirk on Phil’s face.

-

There’s something about meeting a stranger and feeling closer to him than anyone else in your entire life. Dan thought connections like this were made up from fiction. He’s longed for this feeling since he was a teenager, when he felt alone and like he’d always be alone. He wishes that he could tell his younger self that it’s fine, that he found the most amazing person in the world who’s just like him but yet so, so different.

He gladly accepts Phil’s proposals of board games and card games and chatting about anything and everything. He nods happily when Phil yawns and asks for a nap.

It’s basically pitch black now, the days so much shorter. Lit candles dot Phil’s living room, the fragrance somehow comforting and not unbearable.

He can’t describe how guilty he feels though. As he lays with his head on Phil’s pillow, on Phil’s sofa, he feels the ache of doing something wrong deep in his chest. It’s light and not as heavy as his brain thinks it should be. He should be with his family right now. He should be with his Nan. He should be rolling his eyes at Adrian. He should always be doing something other than what he’s actually doing.

Dan rolls onto his back and sighs loudly. It’s too quiet. Phil went to his room, but not before making sure Dan literally had anything he’d need, which consisted of Phil’s softest blanket and favorite pillow. He wonders if he’ll ever see Phil again after this. Maybe in passing. Maybe if he decides to see his family more, he could stop here on his way.

He doesn’t want the storm to end.

He’s tired. He woke up early this morning for how late he went to bed the night before. He doesn’t normally take naps, but it’s the atmosphere of Phil’s place. It’s cozy and dark and they kept yawning when they played Clue.

“Do you nap?” Phil had asked.

“Yeah.” Dan had lied, thinking they’d nap together somehow. Weird feelings of want took over him, but Phil stood beside him one last time before excusing himself to his own room.

He hopes Phil is sleeping well. Or awake and thinking about him. Dan shakes his head, a smug smile taking over his face before he can control it.

They’d flirted a lot. Dan smiles thinking about it. He’d sat with his shoulder pressed firmly to Phil’s, his knee rubbing against Phil’s thigh.

He stops thinking when he hears a creak and then footsteps following. He almost pretends to be asleep, but then he sits up when Phil comes in.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Phil asks, wincing, standing on the tips of his toes.

“No, not at all.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, taking a seat next to Dan when he puts his feet on the floor.

“Yeah, something like that.” Dan agrees, looking down at Phil’s cute, socked feet.

It’s quiet for a minute, both of them not knowing what to say or do. They’ve known each other for maybe three hours tops; the awkwardness was bound to catch up soon. Dan thinks about leaving and walking back to his car, but immediately rejects the idea. He’s about to say something when Phil sighs and smiles at him.

“How about we get the wood for the fire, before it gets freezing, and then watch a movie. I think I have some wine somewhere. I could bring it out?” There’s something behind his eyes that Dan likes very much. He nods and they both get up to head outside.

Phil grabs a torch and Dan follows him out the door. “You’re lucky I chopped this wood earlier. That’s definitely not something you’d want to see.” Phil laughs.

“I definitely disagree with you. That sounds like something I’d love to see.” Dan says, the cold already getting to him.

They near the wood pile and Phil hands Dan the torch. “You say that now, but honestly I’d probably just chop you up. Totally by accident, of course.”

“Oh no, is this what my mum warned me about all those years ago? Something about never trusting a stranger?”

Phil shrugs. “I think it’s worked out for you well enough.”

Dan looks at Phil as he picks up some wood. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Okay, now put the torch on my stack and get your own. But hurry! I’m freezing my arse off!” Phil says, his teeth chattering.

“Oh, really? I had to walk literal miles to get here. You can wait five minutes before going right back into warmth.”

“I will leave you, Dan. I will run back inside and lock the doors.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Dan challenges, eyeing Phil.

Before Dan can even comprehend it, Phil drops the wood and starts fucking running. A smile erupts over Dan’s face and he quickly starts moving too, picking up some snow with his bare hands and packing it into a ball. He tosses it and hits Phil right between his shoulder blades.

“Oh, you bastard!” Phil shouts, laughs taking over both of their bodies as they continue to chase each other and throw snowballs. “I cannot believe you!”

“This is all your fault.” Dan says, covered in snow. Phil isn’t much different. Their fingers are freezing and now they’re both wet. They definitely weren’t prepared for such a fight to start, but honestly it was worth it. Dan’s sides ache from laughing so much, and he gets to look at Phil’s pink cheeks.

“Fine. But you threw the first ball!”

“Wow, Phil. Such a naughty mouth. Santa’s bringing you coal this year.”

Phil shakes his head, too fondly for Dan’s heart not to stutter, and then he smiles at him. “Let’s grab this wood and get inside.”

-

“I have maybe a thousand movies, so just pick whatever you want.” Phil says once they’re inside and most of the wet clothing is removed. They set the wood by the fireplace and called it a job well done. “I’ll grab my laptop and some pajamas for you, yeah?”

Dan turns and looks at him with a smile. He can’t help it. “Yeah.” He walks over to Phil’s movie case and glances over them. They really do have too much in common, huh? He picks one from the top row and goes to sit on the couch, waiting for Phil.

Dan doesn’t want this day to end. He’s having way too much fun, and he feels like he hasn’t lived before tonight. It’s crazy—this feeling in his chest. It’s light and airy and such a deep contrast to how he usually feels around this time, how he he felt earlier today even.

He leans back into the sofa. He’s cold and tired and too damn happy for there to be a reasonable explanation for it, but he doesn’t need one. Or maybe he can chalk it all up to Phil, for being such a lovely stranger.

Phil comes back down then, laptop and clothes in hand, already dressed in his own PJs.

“What’d you pick out?” He asks, setting his laptop on the table. Dan shows him the movie and smiles with pride when he hears he made the right choice. “I love Thor! He’s my favorite Avenger. How’d you know?”

“Guess you’re not a stranger anymore.” Dan shrugs.

Phil rolls his eyes, tossing the PJs at Dan. “Get changed and help me make a comfy bed out of blankets and pillows by the fire.”

“Isn’t that, like, a hazard?”

“Go!”

-

They’re sat back against the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows. Phil made them sandwiches and poured them hearty glasses of wine, and now they’re watching Thor on a laptop balanced on both of their thighs. Dan thinks this couldn’t get any better.

Until it does.

The movie ends and Phil moves the laptop, grabbing the rest of the wine bottle to top them off.

“So, you were heading to spend time with your family. Can I ask about them?” Phil asks. They're still sitting close, side-by-side on their makeshift bed, and Dan can smell the wine on is breath. He smiles sadly at Phil and sighs out deeply, letting the wine warm and loosen him up.

“Uh, yeah. I have a little brother, Adrian, and my mum and my dad, and my Nan. My parents are separated, my brother and I are still in that awkward phase, and I was really only going for my Nan. She’s the only one who seems to get me.” Dan explains, he waits for something like but your family is family , but it never comes. He looks to Phil who’s looking at him with something in his eyes like curiosity. “What?” Dan asks, smiling at Phil and taking another sip of wine.

“Nothing, nothing. Just, do you normally go there for Christmas?”

“Not in like three years, I think. Nice to see what happens when I actually try, huh?” He lets out a dry laugh, and turns to look at the fire. It’s the second most captivating thing in here, right behind Phil.

“I’m really glad I met you.” Phil says quietly. “There’s something about you that just screams I was meant to find you, or like, I was meant to think you were some pizza god at my door when I opened it, only to find you.”

Dan stares into his eyes. “Must have been disappointing.”

“Quite the opposite.”

It’s quiet. It always is when it snows. Each snowflake muffles every sound outside, and the only sound Dan can hear is the beating in his chest and the crackling of the fire as he stares right at Phil as Phil stares right back.

“I don't believe in fate.” Dan says for some dumb reason. He sets his wine glass down and Phil follows. “I believe in chance. I believe that it was incredibly dumb for me to be driving today, but I did it anyway. I believe it was incredibly dumb to walk outside for miles in the freezing snow, and I especially think it was dumb to knock on your door. But I did. I chose to. That’s more powerful to me than any fate could ever be.”

Phil stares. “Anyone ever told you how incredible you are?” He places his hand on Dan’s cheek and Dan smiles so wide it hurts.

“A few.” He repeats. They lean in. Dan expects for the power to turn back on in that moment, something cliché to ruin it, but that doesn't happen. Their lips meet softly and Dan can't take it, so he pushes forwards, his own hand coming around to wrap around the back of Phil’s neck.

They kiss and its wonderful and he doesn’t want it to stop. He licks Phil’s lips and is met with them parting for him. That does something to Dan. He feverishly kisses Phil, getting to his knees and leaning him back against the couch. He straddles Phil’s lap and Phil’s hand moves to rest on his hip. It’s warm. Maybe it’s from the wine or the fire, or maybe it’s the burning of Phil’s hands on his cheek and hip.

Phil leans back, pulling way, and takes Dan’s breath with him.

“Fuck.”

Dan laughs, hiding his face in Phil’s shoulder.

“My thoughts exactly.” He sits in Phil’s lap, leaning back to look at his face. “Is this okay?” He lets his hand play with the hair on the back of Phil’s head.

“More than okay. Been thinking about this all day.” He moves in and kisses Dan on the cheek and then his jaw, and Dan closes his eyes as he works kisses onto his neck. He pulls Dan closer by his hips, wrapping his arms tighter around him. He kisses down to Dan’s collarbone and bites.

“Fuck.” Dan sighs out. He’s getting hard and he can feel that Phil is too. It feels too good to have someone do this to him, but he loves it even more because it’s Phil that’s hitting all his sweet spots.

He pulls Phil’s lips back to his and licks into his mouth hotly, tasting the wine they’d drank mixed with the taste of Phil. He bites Dan lips and sucks it into his mouth.

“I want you.” He whispers, lips going back in to take over the kiss and lick into Dan’s mouth. His hands tighten on Dan’s waist and move down to squeeze his ass through his PJs, his hips bucking up into Dan.

Dan can’t help but lose all sense of what he should be doing, mind going blank. One thing pops in his head though. “Can I suck you?”

Phil seems to vibrate underneath Dan. He kisses Dan hard on the lips and nods his head. “Only if I can do the same to you.”

Dan peels Phil’s shirt off and runs his fingers through his dark chest hair. He thumbs his nipple and feels him buck his hips while he moans. He scoots back so Phil can lay down, and Dan kisses his lips sweetly, smiling as he follows the dark trail under his belly button with his fingers and reaches his hand underneath.

“Can I touch you here?” Dan asks cheekily.

Phil tosses his head back with a moan. “Please.”

Dan wraps his hand around Phil’s cock and watches his face contort in pleasure. He kisses down his chest, stopping to suck a nipple in his mouth and feel his cock throb in his hand. He squeezes the head as he nears his happy trail and his mouth waters with anticipation.

He hasn’t had a cock in his mouth in so long.

He wraps his lips around Phil’s tip and lightly presses his tongue on the head and sucks. His hand pumps what his mouth isn’t reaching, and he feels Phil get even harder in his hand.

“God, you were made for this, huh?” Phil blabbers, one hand resting on the back of Dan’s neck, the other tightly wound in his own hair.

The praise makes Dan sink all the way down Phil’s cock and rest there, letting his throat flutter around the head. Phil’s hand tightens on Dan’s neck, his hips bucking up just the tiniest bit.

When he can’t hold his breath any longer, Dan pulls off, taking in a deep breath and then going back down. He sucks Phil’s cock, spit dribbling onto his fingers and down his chin.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Phil says quickly. He looks down at Dan and Dan looks back up at him. Dan pulls off, ignoring his whines, and takes Phil’s PJs and pants completely off. He gets between Phil’s legs and takes him back in his mouth. He bobs his head and wraps a hand around his thigh, the other hand going up to tweak Phil’s nipple. “You’re killing me.”

“Fuck my throat.”

Dan feels both of his hands twist into his hair. He stares up into Phil eyes, deepthroating him. Phil, the gentleman, languidly bucks into Dan’s mouth, moaning deep and loud. He watches Phil bite his lip and feels him pull his hair tighter. “Yeah. Fuck. I’m cumming.” He tries to pull Dan off, but Dan only grabs Phil’s hands and holds them against the ground. “Dan.” He breathes out.

Dan sucks Phil through it. He tenses up and then completely relaxes, body sinking into the blankets. His cum shoots into Dan’s mouth and his hips move into it. When he’s done, Dan pulls off, only to look Phil in the eyes and show him the cum in his mouth before making a show of slowly swallowing.

Phil just drops his head onto the pillow, breathing in and out deeply. Dan sits up between his legs, admiring how he looks naked. “You have a really nice cock.”

“Do you say that to all the strangers you meet?” Phil says. Dan would be offended if it weren’t for the completely lax expression on his face.

“Only the ones named Phil.” He says. He aches in his pants, wants nothing more then to reach his hand down and get himself off, but he can wait. It looks like he sucked everything out of Phil and he can give him a minute to regain his composure.

“How is anyone supposed to live up to what you just did to me?” Phil asks, sitting up and beckoning Dan closer. He crawls up Phil’s body, sweating, still clothed, aching.

“I believe in you.”

“Lay down.” Phil says. And he does. He lays back against the pillows, one knee pulled up. Phil gets in between his legs and pushes his hands up under his shirt. “Off.” His hands go up, Phil pulling his shirt over his head. He kisses Dan’s lips, pecks them over and over again before he licks into his mouth and sucks on his lips for what feels like hours. He throbs in his pants, wants Phil to undress him completely, take him apart bit by bit.

“Please, just make me cum already.” Dan begs. He feels like if Phil doesn’t get his mouth on him now, he’ll cum in his pants.

Phil kisses down his neck, sucking a mark there. Dan moans and exposes his neck instinctively, but Phil is already heading down. He licks both nipples and kisses down the middle of Dan’s chest, looking up into his eyes. Dan can see the way his lungs move as he breathes heavily, awaiting for Phil to suck him so, so good.

Phil’s nimble fingers curl under his waistbands and tug them down until he’s completely naked. His cock curves up and rests on his stomach. Phil looks on with glazed eyes.

“I swear, I could cum just looking at you.” They both watch Dan’s cock twitch at that. There’s nothing Dan loves more than being praised. It gets him going faster than anything else.

Phil wraps his hand around Dan’s base and pumps his cock twice before going down on him. He’s much faster than Dan was, maybe sensing Dan’s eagerness to finish already. His mouth his hot and warm and Dan can’t get enough.

He drops a hand into Phil’s hair and tugs, feeling Phil moan around his cock. Dan bucks up and listens to the wet sounds of Phil blowing him. It’s like he knows that Dan likes it dirty. He pulls off and bites onto Dan’s hip bone, lips slick with spit.

“Taste so good for me.” He says and then continues to bob on Dan’s cock. He feels it building up fast, his orgasm starting to spread through him.

“I’m about to cum, Phil.” He says, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the other hand squeezing Phil’s shoulder, trying not choke him with his cock.

Phil grazes Dan’s head with his teeth and that’s when Dan cums, hard . His toes curl up and he moans out, Phil’s name spilling from his lips over and over again, hips rolling slowly into his mouth. Phil stays on him, milking him of every last drop, and then swallows.

He kisses Dan’s knee and then smiles at him before kissing his lips. They taste like each other and it’s intoxicating. Dan doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and then Phil lays next to him, his head on Dan’s shoulder. They watch the fire and the way it contours their naked bodies.

“Is it bad that I’m so fucking happy I ran off the road?” Dan asks after a while. They’re facing each other now, hands touching any skin they might’ve missed, lips finding the other’s no matter how many times they’ve kissed already.

“Maybe a bit, but me too.” Phil says. He’s sleepy. Dan can tell. He didn’t nap, and he’s yawning, but Dan thinks it’s so cute that he wouldn’t ever tell him to go to sleep.

“What happens when the power comes back on?” Dan asks. He's scared, but not really. He’s pretty sure Phil is in the same boat as him.

“Whatever you want to happen.” Phil says. “You can go spend Christmas with your family. Or with me.”

“You’d let me stay?”

“Of course.” Phil says, hand finding Dan’s and intertwining their fingers. “I’ve let you stay this long, haven’t I?”

They laugh, then kiss for a while. Dan feels something unexplainable deep in his chest, an ache but a good one. One that makes him want to hug Phil to his body for years and never let go. He’d like to explore that more. He wants to get to know each and every quirk Phil has, whether he loves or hates them, and vice versa.

“I’d like to stay.” Dan says.

Phil grabs a blanket and puts it over them. It’s warm and they don’t need one yet, but it’s nice. “Okay.” Phil says. “You can stay.”

[zachdtfdempsey-blog]

Rollercoaster // (Zach x Reader)

Summary: Zach takes you on a date at the local fall carnival.

A/N: This was not requested. Hope you guys enjoy this imagine; I know I take super long with these so it means a lot that none of y’all have complained about my lazy ass. LOL. I’m so happy you guys enjoyed my past imagines, thank you so much for the notes. <3

Warning(s): A little cussing 

“Two wristbands, please,” he asked the ticket salesman at the entrance of the fall carnival. It was a Wednesday afternoon and the local carnival was filled with Liberty High students who had just begun Thanksgiving break. “I cannot wait to get my hands on a funnel cake and eat it all up,” he said while waiting for the wristbands.

You and Zach Dempsey had been longing for one another ever since you transferred into Liberty High. You were quickly recruited to the cheer team, and though every single jock’s eyes were set on you, your eyes were set on Zach.

After months of late night phone calls, study sessions, and casual after-practice fast food runs, he finally gathered up the courage to ask you out on a real first date.

You had always felt comfortable and open around Zach since you became good friends over time, but now that you were on an official date, it’s as if you forgot how to talk to him. Your mind left your body as you grew more and more nervous. You couldn’t believe you were on an actual date with the one and only Zach Dempsey.

“Sounds delish,” you softly let out.

After putting on your wristbands, you kept to yourself, placing your hands in your coat pockets as you both made your way inside the carnival. You refused to show any signs that you were nervous, but Zach saw right through you.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked, concerned.

Concealing your distress, you shrugged, “Yeah, I’m just a little cold, that’s all.”

“Well, here,” he said, pulling you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I’ll keep you warm.”

You looked up at him as he flashed you a kind smile, and all of a sudden, you felt at ease. Zach was a great friend, a good guy in general, and he asked you on a date, not anybody else. You had nothing to worry about.

An hour into the date, he had already won you 2 huge stuffed animals, both of which he confidently lugged over his shoulders the entire time. You waited inside the carnival as he went to the parking lot to put the stuffed animals into his car. You were honestly getting sick of all the carnival games, and so when Zach came back, you threw a new idea at him.

“Hey Zach, why don’t we ride The Boomer?”

The Boomer was the most popular rollercoaster at the carnival. Everybody who attended rode it at least once. It was the tallest and steepest ride there, with one upside-down loop, and a 90-foot drop. It was terrifying yet invigorating all at the same time.

Zach gulped, as his eyes began to travel away from yours, “Um, yeah, sure, if that’s what you want.”

After 20 minutes of talking and watching Zach fidget with his fingers in line, you both finally sat down inside the rollercoaster cart. He wrapped his arm around your waist, as the ride operator began to speak into a microphone.

“Everybody, arms up!”

Zach shot you a confused look, and you raised your arms up, signaling him to do the same. A bar arose and secured tightly into your laps.

“Oh god, it’s happening,” you heard him mumble.

The rollercoaster began to slowly move forward, the sound of creaking and cranking filling the air. Though, above all the noise, you could still hear Zach’s faint panting in the background.

“Zach, you good?” You asked, looking at Zach, who was forming sweat on his forehead.

“Great,” he responded almost immediately.

The rollercoaster was making its way up to its peak right before the 90-foot drop, when Zach finally blurted out, “I’m scared of rollercoasters.”

Your jaw dropped in shock, and you responded, “What the hell, you’re kidding.”

He looked at you with widened eyes, shaking his head, “I’m really not.”

The rollercoaster increased its speed as it faced its infamous 90-foot drop.

“ZACH!” You screamed with rage, as the ride sped down the drop.

You managed to interlock your fingers in his as you held his hand for the entire duration of the ride. All you could make out from Zach were “holy shit’s,” “holy fuck’s,” and “whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck’s.” You couldn’t lie, it was the funniest thing you have ever witnessed. It was the last thing you’d ever expect from a 6’3” jock built like a god.

You could hardly breathe from laughing too much. It was actually quite adorable the way he closed his eyes the whole time, his dimples prominent from screaming, and his hair being blown all over the place from the speed of the ride. He squeezed your hand so hard it lost feeling.

By the end of the ride, your hair was a hot mess and Zach was still sitting there closing his eyes, gripping onto your hand as tightly as he could. He was well aware the ride ended, but refused to look.

“You’re fine, Zach,” you reassured him as the ride came to a full and complete stop. “You can open your eyes now.”

He let out a long breath, and opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright lights.

“You did it,” you beamed at him, and kissed him on the cheek. A shy smile crept up on his lips as he began to blush out of embarrassment.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were scared of rollercoasters?” You asked, watching him devour an entire funnel cake to himself.

With a mouth full of food, he replied, “I didn’t wanna seem like a loser. You’re a cheerleader, you’ve been thrown up like 20 feet into the air. All I do is shoot hoops.” He licked whipped cream off of his finger. “Honestly? You’re too cool for me, Y/N.”

“I am not!” You dipped your finger in whipped cream and put it on his nose. “And you’re not a loser. You’re my loser.” 

You cringed at the cheesy line you had just said, but quickly moved on as you watched Zach cross his eyes looking at his own nose, trying to lick the whipped cream off. You sat there adoring how cute he was. “Why don’t we go on another ride?”

Zach stopped what he was doing and shot you a fearful glare.

Next thing you both knew, you were sitting on a ferris wheel, admiring the view of the carnival. It was beginning to get chilly and you shuddered ever so slightly.

“Cold, babe?” Zach asked. The word “babe” sent shivers down your spine, making you shudder even more. Your heart began to race and you felt the same way you did when you first entered the park.

“A little,” you responded. He took off his letterman jacket and wrapped it around you.

You helped him adjust it around your shoulders, and asked, “What about you?”

He smiled, wrapping his arm around you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You spent majority of the ride cuddling and staring at the sunset. The sound of screams and laughter from the carnival down below were faint enough that you could hear Zach’s soft breathing as you rested your head into his neck.

The wheel had made about one rotation when you almost fell asleep in his arms, until he awakened you with a snide comment. “This ride is way too intense for me.”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. “I know right,” you responded sarcastically.

“No I’m serious,” he chuckled. “Being on this ferris wheel with you is making my heart beat ten times faster than it did on that other ride, surprisingly.”

You blushed in response, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Feel it.”

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, on which you felt his heart thump, slightly rapidly.

All you could let out was a soft “damn,” the ferris wheel rotating slowly until you both finally reached the top. You hadn’t noticed that Zach was looking down into your eyes the entire time, and when you finally realized it, you felt your stomach drop and changed the subject.

“So. The Boomer. Probably the scariest thing you’ve ever done huh?” You asked.

He didn’t take his eyes off yours, “Nah, I’ve done scarier things.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” He slowly leaned in and cupped your face softly, pressing his lips against yours. You felt his eyelashes brush your cheek as you kissed him back. You placed your hand around his neck, and pulled him closer to you. It was the most magical feeling you’ve ever felt.

You let go, looking into his eyes and smiled shyly, once again snuggling back into his side. Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears, and you looked across the carnival and took in all its beauty.

“Kissing me was the scariest thing you’ve ever done?” You asked jokingly, intertwining your fingers with his.

He exhaled deeply, “Kissing you? Nah. Kissing you at the top of a ferris wheel when I’m scared of rides? Terrifying.”

You snickered at his comment, and hit him playfully as he laughed back.

“I’m kidding,” he said, as you both reached the bottom of the ferris wheel. He got off first and offered his hand to help you off.

He continued to hold your hand, dragging you excitedly across the carnival, leaving you in the dark about what was happening.

“Zach, where are we going?”

He looked back at you with a smirk on his face, “Wanna ride The Boomer again?”

You stopped and pulled your hand away. “Aren’t you scared of it?”

“Yeah, but not when I’m with you,” he answered with a grin. He watched as you began to blush, and asked again, “So do you wanna ride it or not?”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him behind you, “I thought you’d never ask.”

A/N: Hope you guys liked it! I had no idea how to end it I hope it wasn’t disappointing or anti-climactic lol. Thanks for the support you guys; All my original posts are tagged #zachdtfdempsey! (A lot of the gifs/pics aren’t mine tho, just a disclaimer) ALSO I’m so stuck with what to do with the requests in my inbox, I cannot come up with anything! If any of you writers wanna snatch them from me, lmk!

[an-old-telephone]

Alexithymia

No warnings for this one, just my experimentation with style, theme, point of view and character building. Some minor language (as in, “damn” and “hell”, that’s the worst there is), metaphorical imagery (or my so-called attempts at it) and open-endedness.

I've often been asked to describe what makes us who we are.

Not who we are as people. Not what kind of food we like, or our favorite bird, color or song. Not our nations, what defines our countries, what defines us as thoughtful minds or beings of emotion. No, rather who we are, together.

And no matter how many times I try to come up with something I can answer to that, the best I can say is, 'we just... are'. And then, right after that, I resist the urge to cringe, flinch at my words. Because that's not true. It's a lie, a big, fat, ugly lie that pokes its disgusting face every time I'm asked. We never have 'just been', never will 'just be', we cannot and do not 'just exist'.

It makes me laugh. Neither of us would even be here if it were just that simple, if we could 'just be'.

And even if I know this, no matter how I try I can never define us. Really, neither of us can be defined, so how could we both be defined, at the same time, as a unity?

Guess I just thought two wrongs could make a right.

Maybe we're just two wrongs. And then we don't make a right. When have we ever? And yet, we insist on being two wrongs, two mistakes, put together.

Not by some force of Fate - Fate would never allow something as terrible, as destructive as us, to come about - we could destroy Fate with one word, with one look, with one sigh. Not by some push of Destiny - if anything, we push against her ruthless pull, trying to tear us away from each other, because we ruin Destiny, we're slowly killing her, and everything she stands for. Not God, because he would loathe us - we play God, together as apart, and we do it only too well.

We weren't put together. We placed ourselves together. It's like we dug our graves together, next to each other, and now there they are, there they will be, and there we will remain. We'll end, both of us, someday, but even then Death cannot do what all else has failed to achieve.

We could rule hell if we wanted to. We already have the world, so aim for the stars, right?

And look at me now, I'm rambling again. Every time I think about us, I think about everything related and unrelated, and nothing makes sense any more. I get lost, in thought or in the world or my words, it doesn't matter - without you, I'm lost. But maybe it's because I think too big. I get lost, because I think about everything. Maybe I should think about the nothings. The little insignificant things we do, we say, we have, that just make us, us.

Where to start? The list is long, because we do these little things, these things we both love and hate and don't know what to do with them. It's like having those little trinkets around your house, the small, pointless knick-knacks that just lie around. And then, when you're cleaning, you have to dodge these whatnots and dust under them. They're in the way, but... they have sentimental value. You look at them and think 'why do I have this?' And you think about throwing it away. But the moment you take it off the shelf, the mantelpiece, and look back, it looks wrong. It looks empty, and there's that space where it had been, and you don't know what to put in its place. And you're holding it in your hand, and you look at it, and you remember the memory that goes with it. And before you know it, it's back on the shelf or the mantelpiece, and you hate it again because you don't need it. But there's that underlying need to hold on to it, to keep it where it is, because that's where it belongs - or it would leave your heart empty, it would leave it looking wrong, and you need the stupid, pointless trinkets to keep it whole and right.

That's the only right that's ever come out of us, isn't it?

But maybe what defines us isn't what our hearts look like, but what the trinkets that hold them in place are.

Maybe I can try to start understanding us.

And I look at my mantelpiece, and I see the useless, pointless nonsense I keep. And I wonder, why is it there? I know the answer, but I don't let myself know it.

I think of the 3a.m. phone calls, when one of us is up ridiculously late, never mind the phone bill. When we forget to look at the clock, and before we know it, either I'm yawning and my head is dropping onto the pillow, or your words are becoming more and more meaningless and the silences in between sentences are longer. And the next day, I've forgotten how illogical my talk about space and the seventh dimension was, and you never remember comparing me to a bookshelf full of unread books. I can't remember what your point with that was, but I remember thinking it very pretty. I still do, and it's one of those things I don't even need to try and I can remember it. 

And then I also remember both of us designing the next generation rocket-ship - thank God we're not engineers. We'd be laughed at by NASA for our plan. I remember writing it down, and every time I look at the calculations, I can't help but laugh. I mean sure, converting two pounds of Fruit Loops into pure energy would probably be enough for a trip to the edge of the system and back, and it would be much more economic a plan than taking one million pounds of solid fuel per Space Shuttle, but I don't think astronauts would like the idea of relying on colorful cereals to make it alive. Hell, I don't like relying on Fruit Loops as breakfast. And then I remember you proposing to use vodka as the fuel, because it's as good a fuel as any, in your opinion. And I would spend ten minutes laughing, because I'm sleep-deprived or bored out of my mind, and I think at the moment it's the funniest thing I've ever heard. And maybe it is. It's so easy to forget to laugh, how to laugh, but around you I can never stop. And maybe that's good. For a moment, we're happy.

And then there's the looks. The secret messages we send each other. The silent glances fleeting across rooms. The mouthed words floating across a table. How we both know what I mean when I get that glint in my eye - the one you know doesn't bode well. And I know we both remember how well that dry ice experiment turned out, and how long I spent cursing my healthcare for being so expensive. And then there's that haze that shrouds your eyes when you get lost in thought during meetings - I never did figure out what it was you were thinking about. But I would sometimes just watch you, the way your eyes are watching, but never really looking at anything. Just clouded, purple eyes, distant and faraway. And I always wondered what it was that was in your mind, that you were so immersed in them - I liked to think it was me you were thinking about.

And then there were those looks that you'd sometimes get. When we'd go to a bar, hang out with other nations, and you would see someone chatting away with me - flirting or not, it didn't matter. You'd always get that look in your eyes, that possessive, jealous look. And even though every time I would tease you about it, it really just made me feel so... wanted. And then you would make sure to worship every bit of me, and those are nights I can't - won't - forget. Because you made sure to remind me how much you loved me. Every inch of me. And I absolutely loved it. And oh, remember those times when you would just blink at me like I'm mad, like I've lost my mind, when I had an idea that you thought absolutely insane? I found it hilarious.

My ideas were great, they were amazing, and then you'd just come along and confirm they were the idea of the century. Just because you would look at me that way meant that no-one had thought of it before. And then after I had executed my ideas, you'd wear that worried but smug look - it was a look only you could pull off. You'd fuss about me and whatever injury I'd earn myself, but then you'd also look so damn pleased because you got to tell me you'd told me so. And my glare, I remember how you used to both love and hate my glare. You'd find it funny in the right context, say I was adorable for trying to frighten you into getting away from me - but when I was downright mad, I remember you would... you...

I remember that one time we got into a full-blown shouting match - no, war. And I can't remember what it was we both said right before, but suddenly there was this icy silence. I actually felt it in my bones. It was crawling under my skin, freezing me from the inside. And I remember that look you gave me then - it wasn't hate, it wasn't love, it was anger and fear and hurt and disbelief and disgust and... and everything in between. I remember how calm you were, just picking up your coat, slipping your wallet into your pocket. Opening the door, and how softly it just... closed. 

And I had expected a slammed door, a last snarled insult, something - anything, but you didn't give me anything. And I was left alone, in a silent apartment, with a door that had shut so quietly I had barely heard it. It had just slid into place, clicking gently where it belonged. And I stood there, I even heard your car pull out of the parking lot, but I didn't go out to see you actually leaving. Where did you go? You never told me. All I remember afterwards is bits and pieces of the worst and loneliest twenty-four hours of my life. I don't remember eating or sleeping, just kind of numbly wandering around the apartment, doing nothing. Except staring at my phone, waiting for a call, wanting a call - needing a call. But none came.

And I was so worried - I was afraid, scared that this was it, this was the last straw, I had messed up for the last time, that you really were gone. And I... I started fearing your car had been run over, and that you might be dying in a hospital as a nameless John Doe, and God, I was so scared. But then - that loud, wall-shaking knock was so relieving, I was crying before I opened the door. You just stumbled in, grabbed me without a moment's break and kissed me - you kissed me breathless, and I was leaning into you as much as I could, trying to melt into your touch. And I remember how for the first time, I understood the relation between hurt and joy. Because with us, they both tend to come hand in hand.

Do you remember that one time a few years ago when we spent Christmas in Alaska? It was my idea, wasn't it? I remember you saying that there might be a snowstorm on its way right when we would get there, and whether we shouldn't just spend a warm winter in California instead. And then I insisted how weather was unpredictable and that what they said was probably wrong anyway, because I wanted to spend time in Alaska with you again, like we used to, before everything. It was... an experience. What with the electricity going out, my freaking out about how we were going to die, frozen to death, and how no-one knew where we even were, and, Jesus, I just remember your stare, it was like you couldn't believe you were spending time under the same roof as this idiot who freaked out over loss of electricity.

Remember what you did then? You just stalked up to the linen closet, and then our bedroom, and then the guest bedroom, and when you came back you just dumped every single damned blanket in the house on me. You didn't even say anything before scooping me up - along with all the blankets - and then dropping me onto the couch. I'm not sure how you managed to do that, I mean it took me five minutes to get out from under the mess of blankets; let alone start making sense of them enough to put them on me properly. But by the time I was settled under the mound of blankets, you'd gone and made a fire into the fire place. And how we both complained about the smell of burnt because I hadn't used that fireplace in so long that all the dust had just gathered up there. And then it did get colder inside the house, and you relented and came under the blankets. And then when I was mouthing off about it, just generally being obnoxious and annoying about it, you just started tickling me. I hated you tickling me, because that's my only weak spot. Well, apart from you. But what I wouldn't-

I'm trying to stay on track, follow my thoughts. I'm trying, but it's not easy.

And then there's the sweet, adorable, stupid gifts and presents. You'd just randomly up and decide to visit me, out of the blue, and show up on my door with a bunch of beautiful sunflowers in your hand. And that silly smile plastered on your face, the one that was smug and innocent at the same time - so self-satisfied as you watched me sputter in surprise and fire a million confused questions at you, and trying to hide the really obvious blush even I could feel, and yet so innocent because you saw how happy I was to have you with me, even if it were in the midst of a hellish week (especially if). And then you'd go and find the blue vase from my kitchen, the one that's always at the front right under the sink where you know you can find it, and then you put the sunflowers in it, and you place them right on the coffee table in front of the TV. And then you'd turn around, expectantly, and I would still be caught in between questions and mindless jabbering because I was just so happy to see you. I never would admit it though, I refused to, because I couldn't admit to myself I was happy to see you. I was too prideful, as so many people kept repeating to me. But you saw it. I know you saw my happiness, and you read right through me like your favorite book playing out in front of you. And I love it.

Had I been told, fifty years ago, how much I would come to rely and depend on you, I would have laughed in their face and probably nuked them too for saying such a ridiculous and preposterous thing. But I also know that by then I already lived for you, and only for you. It was you who drove me to that greatness I achieved, it was because of my inherent need to beat you that I became who I am. You, in a sense, made me. And back then, if you had left me, if you had disappeared, I was still so weak that I wouldn't have known what to do. I know now, that while I was powerful in a physical and economical and every other sense, I was emotionally crumbling and mentally stumbled across every single hurdle that came my way. And it was only because of you that I climbed over those hurdles. If you had gone, I would probably have left the world to fend for itself, because I would not have known what to do. How could I? My only friend, my greatest enemy, my only reason to live and to be, gone - what would I have left? But now, because we stood together so long, and step by step learnt everything about each other, we were taken closer and closer until we were nearly one and only one soul, person, nation. Of course, figuratively, because we were both too proud to actually relent and give up and give in to each other, but we both knew it. And I became mentally and emotionally stronger, thanks to you.

You made me whole. You helped me. You became part of me.

I never wanted to let that go.

And now I think about it, the one thing that really is the one thing that most makes us who we are, is the way we were to each other. It's those out-of-the-blue forehead kisses, that I would grumble about because I was too short to do that to you. When I would hurl myself onto your back, and you'd miraculously manage to keep your swaying balance. That one time when you hugged me from behind and I punched you in the nose, because I had been jumpy the entire month (but you hadn't heeded my warning - my five hundred warnings). It's the way you would sometimes stop and look at me, just from across a meeting room with that stupid smile on your face, or when we'd lay in bed and you'd brush a hair out of my face. How I would sometimes wake you with fresh, warm, homemade pancakes and you would make a jab at how you were surprise by my cooking skills (every single time, it was ridiculous). How I used to spam your email, your iChat, your Facebook messages, your Whatsapp and every other app I'd forced you to get when you were at work just to get your attention for five minutes.

It's the broken I love yous, shouted in between torn sheets or in the bathroom stalls of another nameless bar or whispered quietly amidst shattered furniture, accented by tears, because we never had been completely normal and perfect a pair. Never would be, and that's what made us who we were. Because neither of us was really capable of being in a perfectly healthy and acceptable relationship, both too damaged for those, too insane and broken. But we were so just the right amount for each other, and we reveled in it, lived off it, lived for it. And we accepted each other, because we saw so much of ourselves in each other. You saw yourself, given too much strength at a too young age. And I saw myself, years down the line when I've lived too long to remember individual years and days and my power has waned some and I can't find in me the interest the reclaim it.

But we found solace in each other, and that's what made us cling so desperately to each other, even in the face of the threat we posed on the world.

They've come back, you know? Those nights. Every night, each of them, all different, but similar in sorts. I used to kick and tear and claw at sheets when I slept, because memories resurfaced that I couldn't hold down but were too terrible for me to bear. I used to cry and scream through dreams, because they were too beautiful yet wrong to be called nightmares. And if you were still downstairs, had been watching TV or finishing a report or doing whatever, you'd just come in and just - grab me and hold me and almost crush me against you until I was left a poor, sobbing mess, before you would begin to stroke my hair, or run a finger up and down my back. And it was those gentle movements and soothing motions that calmed me, that slowly drove the nightmares away. I haven't had those since a long time, when you started chasing them away. And yeah, I do remember how you would do the same thing - except yours was silent, you would toss and turn and grip and clench and grind your teeth and gasp for breath, but it was always so quiet. But I would catch it, and I would start speaking. It never even mattered what it was that I said, but even whispered words would somehow calm you down, and you never remembered it in the morning - only if you woke up in the middle of a nightmare. You'd learnt to suffer in silence, I was still so young that I bled out loud, but we helped each other.

We spoke, we healed, we opened wounds and scars that were old, twisted and ugly, only to clean them properly and close them up again. And we did heal. We both began sleeping well. I didn't wear my tiredness to world meetings any more, and you no longer had sunken eyes that scared everyone. Really, maybe all we needed was someone to mend, and who mended in return. I hate to admit, loathe it really, but they're back once more, because you aren't here, and now I have new wounds, open ones that bleed too much, too fast, that I can't heal on my own. But we're the ones who caused them, and now because of that I can't heal, because you can't mend me. I'm broken because you broke me. But in a way, it was just as much my fault. But I'll wear that tiredness, and I'll have your sunken eyes, because it's really what I deserve. And even though the world may not recognize me any longer, and though the world may come to fear me for who I am without you. But everyone's always said that we weren't natural, that we didn't belong together, that we were better off without each other - the world was better off without us together. And maybe it's because together, we had the potential to be destructive, but alone or separated, we're bound to be destructive. And now I'm standing, abandoned, marooned and alone. Maybe that's why we really are just two wrongs put together.

We never felt right, but we never did feel wrong either. It was, in a sense, a balance - which is what we've always been about. And for just a moment, that balance worked. For just a moment, we met blow for blow. For just a moment, we stood, equal. Even when you stumbled, you never did fall like I expected you to. And so we kept each other in check, in line, merely bending the limits and testing the waters but never taking the dive into the deep, uncharted ocean. But when you're not here, who will I be able to rely on? Who can tell me when I'm being an idiot? Who will tell me what I can and cannot do? Who will tell me I've overstepped my boundaries, who will put me back in my place, who will rein in my arrogance and my self-righteousness and my delusions and my idealistic nightmares and my destructive healing, who? 

No-one, no-one but you has ever been able to, and no-one will ever be. And maybe that's why when we no longer are, and Death finally greets me, it will not be with a handshake, but a glare of disgust. Maybe I will even face the Devil, and be met with a look of fear, hatred, or perhaps with applause. I fancy myself meeting God, even, if only for him to look at me, speechless at the unspeakable horrors I may and will commit. Or perhaps all religion will have been in vain, because no God nor Devil exists, and all I am left with is emptiness, a limbo, or perhaps an eternity of being haunted and of haunting, or perhaps I will be given another chance at life - but how can I say I deserve that? The only role I deserve would most likely be a Horseman of the Apocalypse. Ride alongside War, Pestilence, Famine and Death, as what? Fear? Power? Extinction? All vices I possess. Will I meet you? Where will you be? Standing beside me, or in front of me? Will we continue the same dance that's been here for centuries now, this constant moving back and forth? What will happen to us?

But I won't get that ahead of myself, I've probably still a lot of time left on this earth.

Now, when I look at my apartment, I see the places where we were, and the things we did, and the words we said. And I feel empty, hollow, lonely, because you're a thousand miles away - and you aren't coming back. Rightfully so, maybe. It was both our fault this happened, isn't it? All we ever wanted was more, and it finally became too much. And we're back to what we were, not so long ago. With those hissed insults, and those silent meetings, and those snarled arguments, and those remote informants in our countries, and that war for information, knowledge, a higher ground and vantage point. We've conquered space cut up and split the world, what can we do now? How far can we reach any more? Because even though deep down, I can feel the boiling hatred within me, and I know that you loathe me just as much, there are the days like these. The ones where I stop and think about us. They're not common. You always wondered why I was so fidgety, and refuse to stay in one place for a long time. Because silence, calm and quiet all drag me into my thoughts. And deeper, and deeper, until I'm gasping for breath in a sea of overwhelming thoughts. I guess it doesn't help, that I carry around all these stupid reminders of you. Did you know, that everywhere except when you're around, I wear my ring? My bosses never care enough to ask, because it's nation politics again and they don't understand it. Matthew knows, says it's not healthy (but when were we ever?). Arthur just kind of has grown to accept it, even though he shares Matt's view. Francis? Thinks that what we have is tragic and beautiful, but knows that I'm not helping myself either. Yao likes to make fun of me for it, says I'm a clingy and nostalgic youth who still has so much to learn. But I never wear it around you, because that would be too painfully obvious. And you once said my charm was how unpredictable I was - how impossible it was to figure me out.

But as I stand here, watching the sun set in a blaze of colors, I can't help but think that you're across the sea. My problem and my solution, all within my reach. But we both want more, and we've accepted that. Maybe we'll end up destroying each other, maybe one of us will come to our senses. Maybe neither will happen, and we'll live on this precarious balance, on the edge of the cliff, ready to tumble down but holding each other up. I can't say it's not breathtaking, exhilarating, amazing and terrifying at the same time. I always love the rush, the thrill, the adrenaline you give me. And I can't ignore you, me, this, everything, just because we've been pulled apart again - or we tore each other apart, does it make a difference any more?

As I stand here, I wonder what you're doing. Are you running around the Kremlin, meeting this important politician and writing that important report? Or are you doing the same as I am, idly wondering what the hell happened in this last year? I want to call you, ask you, but I can't, I won't. And I know you won't either.

And it's these things that make me wonder, what are we? Who are we? Why are we like this? How could either of us ever stand the other, beyond all stupid pride and bittersweet hate and gentle love and - and - everything else? How many times will we come together and fall apart before we learn? How many times will we break each other and mend and repair and tear each other apart? Is this why we never work out well? Is this why we can never stay together, settle in each other's arms, because we're too proud and too greedy and too hurt and broken and stitched up once too many and shattered beyond repair? We want too much, grasp too much, own and take and hold too much - in our hands and hearts and minds and steel grips? Why can't I ever answer the simplest questions?

And when I shout these question, fire them at the boundless ocean beyond which you lie, I receive no answer. And I'm angry, disappointed, furious, saddened, even if I knew nothing would come of it (like nothing ever came of us).

The questions I ask most remain still unanswered. And maybe I'll never have an answer, be it in life or in death. But I'm willing to wait and see, hopeful and cynical at the same time, clinging to desperate ideals of what we could have been while simultaneously doing all I can to distance you from me as much as possible. And you'll do the same. Because we are too similar and too different. And we know we're not going to change any time soon.

And so the world holds its breath once more, as we stand, opponents again, in the sour sunlight as in the cold moonlight. Who knows what reaches we will aim for this time? Will we cross the line? Will we bleed or heal? Hurt or help? Innovate or destroy? Both? Neither?

Have we lost the world, or are we lost to them? How much have we broken, that we cannot see? Is anything left to be salvaged? How much lays in shatters in front of our blind eyes?

And though I know you won’t hear my question, I know you’re thinking the same. 

Can we ever make it right?

[recentanimenews]

Crunchyroll Favorites 2018 Part One: Anime and Manga!

2018 was a wild ride for all of us, but at least we had a whole lot of great anime and manga to keep us entertained along the way! We laughed, we cried, we recoiled in horror, and we waited for the "ahh, you are motherf**ker?" moment in Pop Team Epic's anime that never actually came.

  We recently talked about our favorite anime of the past season, and our most-anticipated anime of the coming season, so that brings us to now, to the now-annual tradition of Crunchyroll Favorites (can you believe we've been doing this for eight years?!), where CR's staff, editors, and writers share what stood out most to them over the entirety of 2018. The rules were simple: for Part One, only anime, manga, and related media that were released in 2018 (or received a Western release in 2018), or experienced a major milestone (like starting a new season or closing up a major arc).

There's a whole lot to look at in Part One--let's get started!

Nate Ming

Devilman Crybaby - Satisfying violence and a pulsing soundtrack headline this savage modern retelling of the Devilman legend--this is the kind of thing that got me into anime in the first place, and it felt great to be back.

Dragon Ball Super ending - Meanwhile, Dragon Ball Super wrapped up with an insane 3v1 fight to the finish in the Tournament of Power. Imagine a group of grown men sitting around screaming at the TV like excited children--because in that moment, with a gassed-out, shoulder-to-shoulder Goku and Freeza meeting Jiren head-on… we were again.

HINAMATSURI - MY SMARTPHONE!! I figured Hinamatsuri would just be this goofy domestic comedy about a beleaguered yakuza adopting a psychic child, but then it got real. Like, "why am I crying so much at Anzu's story" real. It's so good, and one I really need to rewatch.

March comes in like a lion - The beauty of March is that it's sad, and sometimes a downer, but never a miserable pity parade that constantly dumps on its characters. There's growth, and a light at the end of the tunnel--healing and catharsis that come after the worst parts of life. We're going to lose the people we love, and we're going to be treated like garbage by the people around us… but that's never the end of the story if you have people you love and trust by your side.

Shonen Jump - This is what I'd been dreaming of for years, but always felt too difficult to implement… until now. New chapters? Free every week. The massive back catalog, along with an updated list of currently-running titles? TWO DOLLARS A MONTH. This is madness, and it's never been a better time to see people reading classics like Dragon Ball for the first time ever.

Honorable Mentions: A Place Further Than the Universe, Asobi Asobase - workshop of fun -, Laid-Back Camp

Cayla Coats

Liz and the Blue Bird - Sound! Euphonium is one of my favorite series, and this film takes the franchise to new artistic heights. Director Naoko Yamada and composer Kensuke Ushio reunite and create something truly special together.

A Place Further Than the Universe - This wasn’t the best-directed, best-animated, or best-scored anime of the year, but the sum is greater than the parts in this case. A Place Further is by far my favorite broadcast anime of the year.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime - I love “another world” anime that focus on worldbuilding and characterization over action, but Slime has both in spades. Also, protagonist Rimuru is super OP, but they’re so likable that I don’t really care.

Violet Evergarden - There’s a lot I could say about this stunningly-produced show, but I’ll just note that toward the beginning of the first episode, Violet picks up an object using her mouth. While it seems like a weird character eccentricity at first, it’s later revealed that she has trouble using her new prosthetic hands. That’s a pretty good indication of how thoughtful the entire series is.

Dead Dead Demon’s Dedede Destruction - The newest series to be brought stateside from Goodnight Punpun author Inio Asano, Destruction is easily my favorite work from him to date. Taking the trademark eccentricity and attention to detail of his other titles, Destruction merges it with a much less grimdark tone that I find hugely refreshing.

  Nicole Mejias

Golden Kamuy - It’s no secret that I love Golden Kamuy to bits! The unique characters got me hooked, and then everything else (the story, action, drama and comedy) reeled me in to keep anticipating each and every episode. When’s season 3?!

Pop Team Epic - Where were you when the anime gods blessed us with Pop Team Epic? It’s basically anime shitposting, and it’s absolutely GLORIOUS! Yeah, I’m gonna be thinking about Hellshake Yano for a very long time.

Ms. Koizumi Loves Ramen Noodles - If you know me, you know I love my ramen. And this show was a testament to how amazing and delicious ramen is while presenting a different array of wonderful ramen you can find in Japan! Of course, after each episode, I was left with the overwhelming desire for ramen, which was hard to curb.

Banana Fish (manga reprints) - Once news of the reprints began spreading around, I knew it was time for me to actually experience the majesty of Banana Fish! I don’t know what I expected, but I was addicted, reading all the volumes so fast, and I had to know what was going to happen next, so I went from volume to volume until I reached the end… What a thrill! I can’t believe it took me this long to check this series out. I’m glad I did!

Pokemon marathon on Twitch - The second Twitch announced this marathon, I was SO ready for it! I watched the old Pokémon anime when I was a kid, and watching the marathon brought back a lot of fun memories. There were also a bunch of moments in the anime I didn’t remember at all, like that bizarre Kangaskhan episode… It was a fun time to relive the show with thousands of other fans on Twitch!

Daniel Dockery

Dr. Stone - This is the “Are you reading this? No? WELL YOU BETTER GET ON THAT” manga of the year, along with Promised Neverland. It’s so good and funny and I just love it.

“Mr. Osomatsu In Hell” - The second season of Mr. Osomatsu was more uneven than the first, but the season finale is a work of art. I really hope the movie is good, and that we get a Season 3.

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind - I only got into JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure this year, and the more I watch it, the more I like it. It’s one of the few pieces of media that I’ve seen that is just as good as everyone made it out to be.

My Hero Academia: Two Heroes - No theater experience will ever top hearing an entire audience erupt into applause when All Might yelled “CAROLINA SMASH.”

That Time I Got Reincarnated As Yamcha - Poor Yamcha. His stock has dropped significantly since he went toe-to-toe with Goku in his first Dragon Ball appearance. Luckily, this manga knows that, and is more hilarious for it. Next I hope for “That Time I Got Reincarnated As That One Pterodactyl That Tried To Mess With Goku In Dragon Ball Chapter 1.”

Peter Fobian

A Place Further Than the Universe - A Place Further felt like it was going against the grain in many ways, as a character-driven drama without many of the usual anime trappings. It’s a damn near perfect show with an excellent story, tight character writing, and some truly brutal emotional beats delivered in novel and creative ways.

Planet With - Maybe some of the tightest storytelling I’ve ever seen, getting 24 episodes' worth of content finished in half that, at a pace that felt perfect. If you decide to check it out, be ready for two full narrative arcs and a ton of interesting character-based subplots all serving the overarching message of the value of compassion and forgiveness.

SSSS.GRIDMAN - It feels like I’m always waiting for the next TRIGGER anime that has the same bombastic energy as Gurren Lagann or Kill la Kill, but GRIDMAN proved they’re able to deliver a muted and thoughtful show as well. Amemiya penned a love letter to tokusatsu so reverent that even people like me can feel his passion. Some characters felt underutilized, but GRIDMAN was charming, mysterious, and stuck the landing.

Laid-Back Camp - I wish there were more anime like this: realizing a new episode of this anime was out became a weekly highlight. It’s chill, it’s funny, it’s educational, and it doesn’t pull any anime shenanigans. Just like the title says, you have absolutely nothing to worry about while watching this show.

HINAMATSURI - I remember seeing a promotion for this anime almost a year before it was released, showing Mao’s kung-fu sequence and thought: this would be a martial arts anime. Nothing could have prepared me for one of the single funniest anime I’ve ever seen. Hinamatsuri has some of the greatest comedic timing this year, and still managed to pack in beautifully-animated psychic fights and some ridiculously powerful emotional moments. I still have whiplash.

Ricky Soberano

Fairy Tail Final Season - This marks the end of this legendary shonen and inevitable Fairy Tail-induced tears well up with every episode that inches slowly to the end. It may look like a victory lap on the surface, but the show is answering every burning question, fueling a fire in hearts, and cementing every reason why it’ll be missed.

As Miss Beelzebub Likes It. - As someone who doesn’t go out of their way to look for cute anime, I was pleasantly surprised at myself and this show for the effect it had on my well-being. It was my guiltiest and fluffiest pleasure of the year and I enjoyed how light, adorably cute, and heartwarming it was.

Attack on Titan - I’ve been holding off on watching this for as long as I could and I definitely regret holding back on it. I will note: I did become vegan for a month after watching the first episode. Now I’m left screaming at the screen and dissecting every moment. With stakes as real as they could get, and consistent losing, I live for the small but progressing wins in the neverending battle for humanity.

Food Wars! The Third Plate - The tables have turned and a new set of rules have left our favorite food orgasm inducers to fight for their survival despite an entire system against them. The creations only got more mouth watering and frankly so did the more visible presence of Joichiro-san. In all seriousness, Hayama-san’s betrayal and Erina’s heightened courage in front of her father was enough to induce a lot of stress eating. Next stop: the final showdown.

Emily Bushman

Mo Dao Zu Shi - Technically a donghua (Chinese Animation), and not traditional Japanese anime, this is BY FAR one of my favorite shows of the year. There’s magic, it takes place in ancient China, and there’s lots of zombie slaying. The character designs are gorgeous, the pacing and action are exceptionally well done, and there’s juuuuuuust enough romantic tension to keep my blood warm.

Banana Fish - I didn’t catch this manga when I was younger, but my roommate told me I was missing out. We started watching the anime, which entranced me with cool character designs and excellent pacing. I got impatient and read the manga (which is just as good, if not better than the anime), and cried my eyes out at the ending.

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai - I thought I was going to hate this, and instead ended up loving it. The dialogue is fast-paced, which keeps otherwise off-color jokes from souring, and instead transforms them into witticisms worthy of a chuckle. It is fun, heartwarming, and a little nostalgic, but does a wonderful job of transforming those perceived insurmountable imperfections into challenges worth overcoming.

A Place Further Than The Universe - Great characters, wonderful development, original story line, dramatic without being overwrought, an improbable scenario without being impossible. It made me cry big, fat tears (I was alone, in my apartment, it was kind of sad honestly), but I loved the salty-clean feeling of relief and forgiveness that came after I finished the show.

Kakuriyo: Bed and Breakfast for Spirits - This is a great show that DID NOT get enough love. It was a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, but also great from a cooking blog perspective. Aoi, the main character, makes a lot of foods that are interesting and not pedantic. It’s definitely a slice of life, but has a main character that is steadfast in her determination to burn through the prejudice, anger, or sadness of those she meets through her cooking.

Noelle Ogawa

The Promised Neverland - I got into it this year and what an absolute treat! Having grown up on the slow pacing of the Big Three, this turned the Jump formulas all around. Excellent cast of characters, a condensed story, intrigue about the world, a constant wonder- this series had it all. Emma is the rare female shonen protagonist who is completely capable on her own terms, and every character is sharp. It’s worked its way to be one of my favorite Jump series, and I can’t wait for the anime.

Pop Team Epic - I genuinely looked forward to this every week. It’s so hard to describe how absolutely wild it is. It’s hard to describe what exactly Pop Team Epic is but it’s definitely some kind of an experience. Being able to catch all the many cultural references were always a fun game to play for every episode, as well as seeing what chaotic entities Popuko and Pipimi had to shove into our faces.

That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime - This caught me off guard because I really am not a fan of 99% of isekai. I’d passed this series off as silly because of the title but I was wrong. It’s still an isekai in its bones, but it combines having fun with having something to say- with a slime protag, of all things. I’m really excited to see more!

My Solo Exchange Diary - Nagata Kabi’s autobiographical work always cut me to the core. Her dealing with both depression and her seuxality with finding her place in the world really speaks to me. At the same time, it’s not a dismal story at all, but one that’s filled with hope. It’s about trying to find your way in the world and make do with what you have, and I think we can all relate to that.

Paul Chapman

Planet With - A series that squeezes 52 episodes' worth of story into a trim 12, Planet With is packed with honesty and heart. Few shows leave me with a feeling of hope for the future, but Planet With's relentless positivity and effortless heroism in the face of unspeakable tragedy speak to how fiction can embody the best aspects of humanity.

A Place Further than the Universe - Blurring the boundaries of the “cute girls doing cute things” subgenre, A Place Further than the Universe is a heartfelt (and sometimes heartbreaking) drama about coming to grips with loss while on a journey of self-discovery. Incidentally, any moe show that features the main cast becoming seasick barf-monsters for an entire episode is A+ material.

Umamusume: Pretty Derby - It's hard to imagine that a tie-in anime for an as-yet-unreleased smart phone game that's supposed to sell viewers on the glories of Japanese horse racing can also be so consistently entertaining and emotionally sincere, but that's just the sort of thing that makes Umamusume: Pretty Derby a dark horse candidate for pure viewing pleasure.

Cells at Work! - Equal parts hilarious and horrifying, Cells at Work! makes learning the basics of human biology fun, because it's nice to imagine that every individual part of my cellular anatomy is just as dorky, self-conscious, and occasionally inept as I am.

Pop Team Epic - Every so often, there comes a work of art that so overwhelms me with its beauty and its ugliness that it leaves a scar upon my soul. But enough about Devilman Crybaby, 2018 is also the year that gave us the inimitable, inscrutable anime adaptation of Bkub Okawa's Pop Team Epic, and no one's complaining (except you).

Nick Creamer

Liz and the Blue Bird - As an unlikely followup to a side story from Sound! Euphonium’s second season, Liz and the Blue Bird was basically guaranteed to have niche appeal. But even if you haven’t seen the show it’s spun off from, Liz is a stunning accomplishment in any right, a gorgeous expression of love composed by one of the greatest directors in anime. Beyond its overt beauty, Liz uses visuals and music to perfectly evoke the mental states of its heroines throughout, making it easy to get carried into their world. Liz is a perfect jewel of a film.

Violet Evergarden - This has certainly been a strong year for Kyoto Animation! Along with the stunning Liz, their full-length Evergarden took my breath away again and again, elevating a poignant melodrama with all the animated splendor and thoughtful visual storytelling you expect from this team. It feels like my favorite animation studio are somehow leveling up.

After the Rain - There are far too few dramas about actual adults facing realistic problems in anime, and After the Rain stands as a welcome and brilliantly executed counter to the trend. Equally sympathetic to its teenage heroine’s feelings of displacement and its middle-aged hero’s feelings of regret, After the Rain paints a thoughtful and sympathetic portrait of its melancholy leads from start to finish. More people need to check out this insightful and very pretty show!

Planet With - Satoshi Mizukami has long been one of my favorite mangaka, and so I was thrilled to see his work finally debuting on the small screen. The results don’t disappoint; Planet With is a wildly ambitious, creative, and emphatically humanist tale of interplanetary war, secret identities, and much else besides. Along with providing some of the most thoughtful human insights of the anime year, it’s probably also the only show this year to feature a space general in a giant cat suit.

March comes in like a lion - March has stood among the best anime dramas for three straight years now, and the conclusion of its second season was an absolute triumph. Having slowly and compassionately articulated Rei’s journey from depression to genuine self-love, the show was at last able to extend its focus outwards, and celebrate the journeys of all the people Rei has come to care for. From its vivid visual embellishments and keen psychological insight to its great empathy for all its characters, March was a wonderful experience this year, and a show I’ll dearly miss.

Wilhelm Donko

A Place Further Than the Universe - The heartfelt story about four girls’ spectacular journey to Antarctica is not only my personal anime of the year; it also managed to secure itself a spot among my all-time favorite shows. Add highly-likeable characters, a great soundtrack, as well as gorgeous visuals to an excellent story, and you have one of the most well-crafted anime in recent years.

Laid-Back Camp - Laid-Back Camp accomplished the feat of making camping out alone in the cold look extremely enticing. Its cozy atmosphere, light humor, and the simply gorgeous-to-look-at backgrounds always made me want to grab my tent, and head out to the great outdoors after each episode.  

Harukana Receive - This was a perfect fit for this year’s summer anime season, getting us in the summer spirit with a whole season of nothing but beach volleyball in tropical Okinawa. On top of its vibrant visuals, the show also had a great upbeat soundtrack.

Kara Dennison

ZOMBIE LAND SAGA - The series’s vagueposting approach to publicity was as interesting as it was risky, but none of us could have been prepared for undead idols finding closure while Mamoru Miyano yells a lot. The back half of the series was especially good, touching on everything from personal identity to the spiral of depression. And in spite of all that heavy stuff mixed in, it brought me so much joy.

Lupin the 3rd Part 5 - I will always be a sucker for new Lupin, but there was something extra special about this season. Maybe it was the no-fear approach to action balanced out with the characters staying in-character, a dichotomy the franchise sometimes fumbles. Maybe it was just how deeply important the characters’ intelligence was, to the point of reminding us that Lupin is no mental slouch. Or maybe it was the callback filler episodes. At the moment, probably my favorite of the many Lupins.

Pop Team Epic - From a news standpoint, this series was a disaster to cover because we never knew the truth from the troll. Watching as a fan, and one with very little experience with the 4koma, was delightful. The cultural references were on point, and Norio Wakamoto made his way onto the cast list at least five episodes earlier than expected.

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And that's a wrap for Part One! Be sure to tune in at the same time tomorrow for Part Two, where we share our favorite VIDEO GAMES of 2018! If you're in the mood for more CR Favorites, here are the links to past years' features:

Crunchyroll Favorites 2017 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Crunchyroll Favorites 2016 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Crunchyroll Favorites 2015 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Crunchyroll Favorites 2014 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Crunchyroll Favorites 2013 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Crunchyroll Favorites 2012 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Crunchyroll News' Best of 2011 Part One | Part Two

What were your favorite anime and manga of 2018? Remember, this is a FAVORITES list, not a BEST-OF list, so there are no wrong answers--sound off in the comments and share your favorites!

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Nate Ming is the Features Editor for Crunchyroll News and creator of the long-running Fanart Friday column. You can follow him on Twitter at @NateMing. His comic, Shaw City Strikers, launches January 15, 2019.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[brookesayshai]

Tag for @mineking2435

tcorny1: Do you sleep on a blanket over your mattress with another blanket on top, or with just one blanket on top of you? Lots a blankets 2: Personally, what do you believe happens when a person dies? ghosts r cool 3: If faced with the opportunity, would you ever kill a criminal whom you don’t know if it meant you could get anything you want in return? (Keep in mind you do not/can not know what said criminal has done to become a criminal until after you’ve made your decision) nope 4: The funniest nickname you can come up with for __Batman Jesus The Rapist_________ ? (throwback) 5: What type of art could you always appreciate but never see yourself actually doing?  realism 6: You’ve been given the option to choose how the human race reproduces. How would we reproduce, which sex would bare children, and how would we bare them? (Eggs, litters, etc) same as it is bc fuck change 7: What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced, may it be just reading about it or experiencing it in the flesh? uh, discovering this site 8: You can choose any world to go to from any book, movie, video, fanficion, etc, and the option to become the main character. Where would you go, and would you be involved in the main story, or just watching on the sidelines? fallout and both bc i can 9: What is one thing in this world you would get rid of if you knew it’d be erased from the entire history of the human race? the emoji movie 10: Describe ____life_______ in your own words. 69 69 11: You’re in hell! One song is playing on repeat for eternity. What song it it? Oh Ms Beleiver

12: You get to create a entirely new species. Describe the name of them and what they look like. purple firaffe w/ monkey head

13: You’re now allergic to EVERY animal except for one. Which animal is it? Rat 14: What’s on your mind right now? him 15: Try and describe your closest friend in the silliest way possible. corny 16: You can stop doing one of the following– Eating, Using the restroom, Sleeping– without any consequences. What do you choose? using rr 17: You have to live on a world famous landmark for the rest of your life. Which landmark would you live on/in? idk 18: You can babysit 6 extremely poilte and kind kids for not very much money or one extremely rude and disrespectful child for a high amount of money for a week. Which do you choose? either or 19: You have to use one word in every sentence for the rest of your life. What word is it? fuck 20: Go on a vacation forever or never leave your home town? im fine w/ hometown 21: What would your character be described as in an upcoming anime? cynical beeotch 22: You get to redesign the whitehouse. Describe how your fabulous revisions would make it look? a maze garden 23: You’re now inhabiting the body of the last person you talked to. Who is it, how how weirder out are you? @mineking2435 24: Add a letter to the alphabet! What’s its name and what does it look like? bers (idfk) 25: Weirdest fetish you’ve ever found out about and how? Foot i think 26: Every mosquito drops dead and they are never found again or every wasp? waspsss 27: Fear you had when you were little that you grew out of? dark 28: The ability to make everyone listen to you when you want to say something or have no one notice you when you don’t want them to? 2 29: What’s your favorite meme? the dank ones 30: Best surprise you’ve ever gotten? him :))) 31: Do you no longer listen to a song because it reminds you of someone you don’t talk to anymore? kinda, yeah 32: Write a full paragraph about yourself without being negative (or just a sentence if you don’t want to write a full paragraph!) I would say something and than, but it doesnt matter or its not important or not that i care 33: Describe the most attractive person you’ve ever seen without mentioning their name. Himmmmm mmmm damn 34: Upload your all time favorite picture! cant pic, we’re just too cute together 35: You wake up tomorrow and end up having NO responsibilities to do, including work, school, cleaning, projects– Nothing!– As well as full access to an endless supply of money for an entire week. How do you spend it? being lazy as usaual 36: Write a plot for a TV show that you would most definitely watch. Drama, romance, action, comedy XD 37: If you had to choose between only wearing shorts and long sleeves or pants and a tank top for all of winter, what would you choose? (No coats allowed or other garments under or over the shorts or pants!) What about my bra? 38: One thing you’d love to wake up to? him every morning  39: You can choose to learn one talent to master or choose many talents that you’re somewhat okay at. Which do you choose? many ok talents 40: Favorite quote/saying? “Goodnight, sleeptight, don’t let the bedbugs crawl into your ear and whisper threatening things that make you question yourself” - Tyler Joeseph 41: You say one sentence to go down in history and be remembered years after you pass, even centuries into the future. What’s the sentence? Im a god damn mother fucking fishstick, you got dat or naw 42: Favorite video you’ve ever watched? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAvxLESWJG8 (bc of the one phrase) 43: Type/act like you did when you were 13 and describe your plans for tonight. I will, uh cry myself to sleep (emo phase so yeah) 44: You’re a baby with a very deep voice. What would you say to startle everyone in the room with your very deep baby voice? CHEESY FRIES MOTHER FUCKER 45: Funniest joke you’ve ever heard? my life 46: Ever pulled a prank, and if you did– What was it? I told my sister when she got her first period, if she farts blood will go everywhere and her friends joined in on it 47: You can be a human with fur or a dog with hair. Which do you choose? human with fur  48: In your own opinion, the weirdest advertisement you’ve seen? old spice i guess bc its too wak 49: Did you answer honestly to these questions? yes 50: Your hair can be any color you want, but its permanently there. For an example, you can dye your hair another color after, but the color you originally choose will always grow back in eventually. What color do you choose?

tyedye idfk

Heres some more @mineking2435

When you are old, what do you think children will ask you to tell stories about?

If you could switch two movie characters, what switch would lead to the most inappropriate movies?

What animal would be cutest if scaled down to the size of a cat?

What inanimate object would be the most annoying if it played loud upbeat music while being used?

When did something start out badly for you but in the end, it was great?

What weird food combinations do you really enjoy?

How would your country change if everyone, regardless of age, could vote?