#gais hand on his chair ready to bail

[jventureart]

I read a fic (this one!!) with post retirement kks & gai. There is a scene where they visit hokage naruto, and sauske is there, and it's ✨️uncomfortable✨️

[sapphiresterreart]

Inspired by this post: where Shadow finds Super Sonic and ONLY Super Sonic attractive. Sonic's normal self is not wanted.

It made me cackle because I couldn't help but picture Shadow deciding to explore this gay awakening in the most convoluted way possible. Cue me getting carried away with the idea and scribbling a rough scene.

Stuffed under the Read More.

At one point after seeing Sonic's glow-up into Super a few times, Shadow's brain latches onto an idea and goes insane until he scratches the metaphorical itch.

He zooms around the entire planet to collect the 7 Chaos Emeralds AND the maximum amount of rings a single person can hold.

Randomly shows up at Tails’ workshop/house one day, looking particularly deranged to the poor fox because the guy's spent the past month running himself ragged and is now gunning for his older brother for some unfathomable reason. Eggman couldn’t possibly have recovered from the last beat down in such short time! Something’s clearly wrong.

Shadow’s carefully manicured quills are in utter disarray. Gunk and grease coat his muzzle. Gloves notably tattered and inhibitor rings tarnished. There’s a suspicious smearing of red all over his typically immaculate chest fluff. Worst of it all are his eyes: near feral in their intensity as they pin the fox in his computer chair from afar.

The surly hedgehog snarls. “Where’s Sonic?”

All the while, Shadow has to keep ahold of the seven emeralds that prolly act like magnets and want to repel away from each other. His sanity’s hanging on a thread. 

Luckily Sonic shows up soon (instead of late? First time for everything! What a relief) after a brief, albeit frantic call from his lil bro.

Sonic does not expect Shadow to look like such a wreck. He does not expect his usually composed rival to yank an absurd amount of rings from the pocket dimension everyone had in their feathers, fur, or otherwise back part of their body. He does not expect those same rings to be shoved into his hands and quills, forcibly stuffing them into his own ‘inventory’ of a pocket dimension. 

He does not expect the rings to keep coming until he can’t hold anymore.

He does not expect the Seven Chaos Emeralds to immediately follow after.

“Shad–” Sonic tries, absolutely baffled.

“Transform.” Shadow gives him nothing except a haggard sort of desperation. “Now.”

And. Well. When asked like that? Damn. He won’t say no but that’s some voice his rival has on him. Hmm. Still. He doesn’t go super just yet because there’s only so long a transformation can last and he’d like some of the facts first. Especially if the situation’s as dire as Shadow’s making it out to be.

“What’s up?” He tosses out a tense smirk and a quip to lighten the mood. “Got yourself in trouble with the law again, Shads? Need me to use your own money to bail–“

“Transform.” Shadow staggers and oh no he’s gonna pass out isn’t he? He straightens before he can truly fall. 

Sonic lets the smirk fall. This is too unusual. “Not until you tell me what’s going on! What the heck Shadow?”

The glare intensifies. He looks weirdly… hungry? Oh. He hopes that's not some alien DNA comin’ out to play. Sonic’s not in the mood to be eaten. At least… not in the way his shoot-first-questions-later friend would likely consider.

“…Transform first and then I’ll tell you.” 

What an oh-so generous counter-offer. Sonic’s tempted to refuse on principle but the guy looks ready to collapse and there’s only so long Sonic himself can hold all seven emeralds at once before they launch outta his grip. 

He sighs. “Yeah, alright.”

Sonic closes his eyes. Concentrates. Feels the power humming in the gems, lets them push away from him with him as their center of gravity to orbit. Momentum builds as they whirl around him. His focus deepens. A zen sort of calm settles over him like a familiar cloak as he pulls the gems back into his core sense of being. A spark ignites and he’s set aflame.

His feet leave the floor as the power repels him against the planet. Feels the gems thrumming alongside his veins as he opens his eyes. The world glitters a beautiful gold but he doesn’t have time to smell the roses. Rings are burning like a candlestick’s wick, after all.

“Start talking.”

Shadow does not start talking. Instead he stares. Only stares. It’s… kind of concerning, actually. 

“Shadow?” Super Sonic frowns, spending more energy concentrating on maintaining the sheer power humming in his soul than on coming up with a funny joke. “Are you alright?”

Shadow doesn’t make a sound. Is he even breathing? Super Sonic’s brow furrows and gently glides from near the ceiling to hover in front of his rival. Red eyes track the movement like a predator intent on its prey but Super’s not worried about that. Not right now, at least.

Keeping his expression soft, yet unwittingly focused, Super examines his rival’s disheveled state. For the Ultimate Lifeform, he looks ultimately wrecked. He smirks, just a lil, and Shadow hones in on it like a laser beam. Super blinks, smirk twisting into a puzzled smile as he tilts his head, before slowly grasping Shadow by the shoulder. 

“C’mon focus, Shadow. You with me?” Wide, red eyes blink dumbly and Super huffs a laugh. “How can I help?”

Shadow. Doesn’t respond. Merely gapes at him like he’s drinking in the sight. It’d be flattering at any other time but right now it’s just frustrating.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s goin’ on. On a time limit here–“

“You have full inventory.” 

Finally! He speaks! But lacks sense. “What?”

“Rings.” Shadows answers though that doesn’t answer much. Choosing instead to fall silent once more and continue staring.

Super doesn’t know what to do with any of this so he turns to someone who might. “Tails? Any clues?”

“N-no…” His lil bro trots over to them, visibly disturbed. Good. Glad he’s not the only one confused here.

“I’m burnin’ rings.” Super settles for instead. “Thought you said it was urgent?”

“I thought it was.” Tails gestures at the catatonic state of their friend. “I mean look at him! What was I supposed to say?”

“Well.” Super starts strong only to trail off.

He pivots in the air, still hovering in front them both. Cups his chin with a thoughtful frown. Absently skims the cluttered workshop as he slowly spins in place before re-centering with a shrug. It’s surprisingly hard to keep focus and maintain the super form when there’s no imminent threat. Without anything to go on, he's just wasting power. So. His gaze returns to his battered rival.

“If nothing else I could try this?”

He drifts closer to the still stunned speechless ‘hog. Frowns slightly at the white part of Shadow’s eyes. They’d reddened significantly. Had he blinked once in the past minute or two? Nothing worth worrying over, he supposed. Not if this worked.

Super reaches a hand, still glowing a vibrant gold and soft flames of light emanating off him, and gently braces a palm against the side of Shadow’s face. Shadow doesn’t even move as Super closes his eyes.

Tails shifts beside them. “Try what?”

Super hums. “We’ll see if it works first, buddy.”

The sound vibrates in his chest and makes its way down the arm connecting him to his rival. The rings are burning slower than usual but once he starts this, they start burning like they would in battle. 

Super focuses the gem’s energy from their raw state of chaotic power into something he can channel into another person. He smoothes corrosive edges, softens acidic potency, gentles the sheer intensity of it all and funnels them through his own energy. Pours bits of his own chaos mixed with the gem’s through that funnel in his palm. Pushes it from there into Shadow’s own energy.

Shadow doesn’t do anything more than gasp sharply and let him do his thing. Super mentally shrugs, privately delighted by the fact Shadow was letting him touch him at all especially his face, and continues his foray into healing via chaos energy. 

The rings are gone even faster than in battle and soon after the last wound has closed and Super’s pulled away, the power keeping him aloft drains completely. The golden glow fades from his quills and they drop back into blue as he returns to the ground, his normal self once again. His grasp on the chaos emeralds slacken and the tension that had been building between the seven finally releases. The gems launch themselves harmlessly out of him like a slingshot and scatter once more.

He bounces a step from the residue energy crackling inside him and beams at his rival. “So now that that’s over with, mind telling us why you came all this way looking like you crawled outta a dumpster caught on fire?”

That of all things has Shadow snapping back to himself. Any awe lingering in his rival’s face vanishes. Fully returns to his normally composed self as he straightens and crosses his arms with a muted huff.

“Merely an experiment. Good day.” Whirls on a heel with shoes revving, dips his head in what might’ve been a polite farewell at his lil bro. “Prower.”

And leaves. He leaves. The cryptic jerk leaves.

Sonic gawks. “Whuh–? What was that?” He spins to face his brother. “Did you see that? Did you see?”

“I saw.”

“Didn’t even say goodbye to me! Me! He was the one who asked me to come all this way! I was next in line for brainiac dogs over in Spagonia, you know. Not as good as chili dogs but it was buy one get one free day! What the heck?”

His younger brother can only shrug helplessly with a puzzled smile, twin tails swishing behind him. “Don’t know, big bro. He did say it was an experiment.”

“Experiment in driving me insane, maybe! Now I’m gonna go crazy trying to figure him out.”

“You mean you weren’t already?”

“Tails!” He grins and hooks an arm around his annoyingly adorable baby bro. “I’ll show you who’s crazy!”

His bro only laughs and swats at the fist digging into his hair. Futilely fighting against the inevitable noogie but he's got him secured by the shoulders. “Have mercy! I’m not the one who spent the past month looking for seven whole emeralds and an entire inventory’s worth of rings.”

“I’ll give ya that!” Sonic cackles and lets him free. “What was up with that anyway?”

Elsewhere, unbeknownst to the brothers, one Shadow the Hedgehog was having a crisis of epic proportions. He had discovered a new, albeit incredibly difficult goal in life: to have Sonic turn Super more often than not because wow did he look alluring with a face of focused intensity framed by golden hues.

[i-smell-sass]

Rose Petals And Moonshine [Bucky Barnes x Male reader] Oneshot

Requested: Yes/No Warning(s): Bucky being a madman, Jealousy, fighting, a bit internalized homophobia from bucko Smut or Fluff: mostly fluff, light flirting, soft bucky at the end

(HC = hair color) (H/L = hair length) (E/C = eye color)

Bucky was... a difficult guy.

He was often too scared to admit feelings, but wasn't hesitant to point something out or get snarky when he's not pleased.

thus the situation he was in right now; fighting with Steve.

his best friend knew when he was troubled, and decided to speak up on it.

3rd person POV

Stark Headquarters/Avengers Compound Living Room/Kitchen

"buck come on! We both know you have feelings for Y/N! Just go talk to him. You have literally not talked to him yet and keep moping around because of his date today!" he huffed out and Bucky groaned, rubbing his forehead "Steve, how many times have i told you i don't like him and i. am. not. gay!!!" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed "buck, you know we can express who we like more freely now! it's not like back then, Even i can express and have accepted that I'm bi! and i like guys as well as girls-" he said and let his arms fall to his side in a frustrated manner, convincing Bucky to something was proving itself to be quite difficult, considering he was stubborn and easily Aggravated.

You see, Y/N Was going on a date today, with a guy he met at a gay bar. He had decided to go there one night when he felt extremely lonely and bored, Seeing that a new gay bar Opened Conveniently near the base. He decided to go there and look around, swaying to the music and getting a few drinks, where he met The guy. Bucky sighed, rubbing his eyes and getting up, knocking the chair down while he did, slamming his hands down on the table.

"Steve, Just SHUT IT!, i DO NOT like him and i WILL NOT ask him on a date. You can stick your acceptance where the sun don't shine." He huffed out as He walked off, stepping over the chair carefully before walking to the direction where a flower garden Wanda started to make was.

Y/N walked in, elevator doors opening and the elevator making Ding Sound when they did, him standing there with a Slushy in his hand, taking a sip from the straw before looking at the frustrated Steve sitting there And seeing the vase of flowers on the table knocked over As Well as a chair, letting out a quiet "woah."

Steve Sighed, rubbing his forehead as he leaned over the table, then looking over at the surprised Y/N who was still holding his slushie. “o-Oh hey Y/N! I didn’t- Weren’t you going to get ready for your date with that guy.. Uh.. Robbie!.. With Natasha?” He asked, a surprised expression painting his features as he stood up. Y/N sighed, walking to the table and setting his slushie down, pulling the hood of his hoodie he was wearing off his head and he grabbed the fallen chair, sitting it up and then sitting down. “You know… i was going to, but then Natasha Had to bail and Robbie quit the date on me saying he didn’t mean it and was drunk off his mind. Soo i guess I’m free now. Gonna order some pizza and… i dunno… watch Bucky try to avoid me “ he said, shrugging as he grabbed his slushie again and took a sip, watching as Steve’s features morphed into a more confused one. He leaned over, whispering to Steve “Clint and I have this fun little game called where’s Bucky. It’s like Where’s Waldo but we try to find Bucky and where he might be hiding from me. It’s kinda fun, you could join.”

Steve let out a disappointed scoff and looked at Y/N with furrowed eyebrows “...so you know what Bucky's doing but you’re not trying to act upon it?” He asked carefully, Y/N letting out a small scoff and leaning back in the chair, tilting it lightly as he did. “You know, I would try to ask that hot bastard of a wall out if he weren’t 1: taller than me, 2: stronger than me, and 3: could literally smash me into the next century if I made him angry. I would like to keep my bones intact for as long as I can manage, thank you.” He sighed and looked down at Steve's beaten down expression. “Look Steve, I’ve liked Bucky for MONTHS now and was going to ask him out, but he seems so closed off and secretive, like he doesn’t want anyone near him at all, or even be more than friends. Not just with me, but with anybody he’s gotten close with. And I don't want to ruin our friendship, or whatever it is that we have anyway. Asking him out would be a horrendous idea, Especially now that I don't know if he likes guys anyway. It would be a lucky guess to say yeah he does and go shoot your shot but i just don’t wanna mess anything up. He’s the nicest man, no offense, I've ever met. Even though he seems a little stiff and closed off. He’s funny, really nice, Confident for the most part and he cares. He cares about people. How they feel. What they feel. How to help them. And he’s strong.. Really strong, and not to mention very attractive. You think I'll destroy being friends with someone like that just for the possibility of a date? You guessed wrong. What we have right now is nice, and before i go and fuck this up for myself and have nothing with him, I'd rather have this small bit than absolutely nothing, or worse, him possibly hating me.” With an understanding nod, Steve looked down and chewed the inside of his lip and Y/N got up, seeing something in the corner of his eye before shrugging and looking at Steve “i hope your best friend finds someone, anyone, who he wants to start something romantic with, cuz lately people kept getting boyfriends and girlfriends here and there, but nobody wanted to ask me out, and i didn’t wanna ask them out, and it seems that has happened to Bucky as well, so i wish him luck.” Y/N stated before walking off to the elevator and going to another floor where their rooms/small apartments were located.

3rd person POV

Y/N’s Apartment/room, same evening

Y/N was in his room, just minding his own business and scrolling through the options of what to order when a rock hit his window. It was about 10 pm when it did, and it was fairly dark outside to think that nobody but some night owls would be walking outside or even throwing rocks around. Y/N dismissed it, thinking it was only a rock that hit the window accidentally when there was another knock at the window, sighing, he got up and looked out the window. There was Bucky standing there, Black button up shirt that had three buttons unbuttoned on his toned torso, and some ripped, black skinny jeans on his legs, which was unusual for him. Y/N Got up, putting on a white turtleneck and black skinny jeans, making sure his H/C, H/L Hair was looking all right before walking out and pulling on a gray jacket, then getting into the elevator as he let out a small laugh under his breath, thinking about how ridiculous this was. When he got out, he walked around the building a bit and saw Bucky standing there, waving at him as he seemed to hold something behind his back.

“Uhm.. hey Y/N..” he mumbled, seeming more tense than usual. He smiled lightly and patted Y/N’s back lightly, pulling out his arm from behind his back, which he was holding flowers in. “I- Uhm.. got these for you.. Since I wanted to apologize and clear some things up, and.. This is supposed to be romantic, So Steve suggested I bring flowers” He stated, letting off a tiny shrug as he looked around, trying to avoid eye contact with those captivating E/C ones at all cost. Y/N sighed, looking at the flowers he now himself was holding instead of Bucky and looked at him, brows furrowed. “Bucky, I really appreciate this whole… thing you’re trying to do, ..whatever you’re trying to do anyway, But why do you ignore me for like two weeks straight, Just to now come to me in the middle of the night, bring me flowers and say you wanna clear things up?” Bucky chewed on his lip and looked down, his soft, long dark brown hair falling in front of his face lightly as he did, it was now down to his shoulders, the front hairs tied around to the back and the rest of the hair loosely hanging around his shoulders (kinda like thor’s.) “i.. Heard what you and Steve were talking about… in the common room.. A-and don’t worry! I wasn’t eavesdropping! Okay.. Well.. Maybe I was.. But to my defense I was just trying to grab my jacket.. And you came back right after I left.. So I decided to stay and listen.. And what you said.. It really… made it clear to me that you like me.. Or even love me, if that is possible.. And.. I tried to hide and push back and ignore my feelings for you a lot.. Because, for one, I don't know how feelings work.. Hell, I was locked up and frozen in an ice tank for like 80 years. And.. I also didn’t want to get too attached… to anyone, really, but specifically not you, since I realized I was starting to like you more than a friend.. And I couldn't have you hurt. Not because of me. So I tried to distance myself from you… and.. Try to forget about what we had.. But that turned out to be a bad idea.. And it just made it worse for me and you. I know that this may come suddenly.. or - its just.. Really weird and out of the blue.. But… would you wanna go on a date with me.. “

Y/N Blinked a bit, realizing what Bucky just said and then he shook his head, giving off a quiet chuckle under his breath. “Bucky Barnes, you crazy bastard.” He then looked up at him and raised a brow. “Wait.. do you mean.. Go on this date.. Right now? Like, right now right now?!” Bucky nodded shyly and gently took Y/N’s hand in his own, guiding him down a path of rose petals and lit candles set up to create a path to a small pond. Y/N gasped as he saw what was in front of him. It was a picnic blanket, a small blanket hut (kind of) Fairy lights, all kinds of drinks and snacks and pizza set up, and floating candles in the pond as well as direct moonshine on the pond and Fireflies happily buzzing around and lighting up around them. Even though it wasn’t the most fancy thing he ever had for a date, He couldn’t resist. “Fuck, for an old man you really know how to set the mood.” Y/N joked and he heard Bucky beside him snort a little, chuckling quietly before being tugged down by his arm gently, sitting down next to Bucky. “...this really is like, Rose petals and moonshine, huh.” he commented as Bucky nodded, carefully draping his metal arm around Y/N’s shoulder as they watched the fireflies for a bit. They soon started eating and making jokes, goofing around and having deep talks while laying in the blanket “hut” and pointing out stars. They fell asleep in each other's arms and The next day Tony got some sweet bribing material from Bucky and Y/N falling asleep on top of each other.

[gainingfiction]

Lifeguard Off Duty: Chapter 9

(Read Chapter 8 by gainerstories here)

Rather than risk ending up like a sitcom character with two dates to the dance, Bradley decided to roll a few of plans together into the ultimate evening of celebration. Jeremy and the boys from Muffin Tops would stop by his work happy hour at Michaela’s on Friday night. Peter would join him there, and they’d move onto their romantic dinner date afterwards: it had taken a little rearranging, but he’d managed to line everything up into a perfect stretch of hedonism.

After finishing up with the gym’s seated press on Thursday evening, Bradley decided to see if his workouts had done anything for his weight. He stepped off the scales, after clocking in at an eye-popping 324 pounds: a full 11 pounds heavier than he had been just a couple of weeks before. Had he been doing that much celebrating? 

“Hey, man. Can’t wait for tomorrow,” came Jeremy’s voice from behind him.

“Hey, me neither,” Bradley said, turning to greet his gym buddy. He joked, “You trying to see the number?”

“Don’t need to. I can tell by your outfit that it’s still going up,” Jeremy laughed as he gave Bradley’s belly a gentle pat right around his exposed navel. It was Jeremy’s favourite running joke—not that Bradley ever ran anymore.

“Very funny,” Bradley grinned, as he turned to head out for the evening. After half an hour at 24 Hour Fitness, he couldn’t wait to eat whatever lavish spread Peter had come up with that day.

The next morning, Bradley had a spring in his very heavy step. He whistled as he soaped up the rolls and bulges of his colossal body in the shower, and hummed as he ran his towel along the sloping curves of his huge rear. He inhaled sharply to get his work shirt closed, and then inhaled the massive breakfast feast that Peter had cooked up for him: bacon, sausages, hash browns, syrupy pancakes, and buttery toast. Shirt buttons spreading apart as they fought to restrain his gut, Bradley heaved himself into his car and made his way to Muffin Tops.

After loading up on pastries for the day, Bradley headed to work. He greeted his friends in the recreation department before making his way to his own corner of city hall. As usual, Malcolm appeared with a huge plate of home cooking, followed shortly by Diane and Eric who wanted confirmation that Bradley wasn’t going to bail on drinks. By the time he left the office, he had eaten every crumb that had been put in front of him, but his mind was already wandering to the nachos and fries at Michaela’s.

The place was just starting to get lively when Bradley arrived. He plodded over to Eric and Wanda, who were standing by the bar. As soon as he arrived, Wanda placed a frothy mug of beer in his hand. She added, “Even if you work in another department now, I’m still the boss.”

“Of course,” Bradley said, feeling sincere. Wanda had done so much for him. He chatted with her for a while, digging in when a large platter of nachos appeared beside him. And when Diane appeared with an overloaded plate of fries, he allowed himself to be stolen away. He let his co-worker grab a few pats of his monster gut as he polished off the snacks, before turning to Eric and his boyfriend.

The one-time twinks looked completely overstuffed as they stood side-by-side, splitting well over 300 pounds of excess relationship weight between them. They were still fairly fashionable, but Bradley could see that they shared his struggles with fitting into clothes: buttons strained and cotton rode up to expose their mutual overindulgence. Ordering another beer, he chatted with both of them, realizing that they were as charming and fun as Eric’s social media profiles made them seem.

While Bradley was talking to them, he watched Peter arrive and slip effortlessly into a conversation with Malcolm and Wanda. Bradley realized that they had probably been going to Peter’s coffee cart for longer than he had. He admired the way Peter’s athletic-fit blazer flattered his lithe build, contrasting it to the massive men in front of him and the equally massive man he had become. As he chatted with Peter and Blake, he felt a distinct appreciation for the tattooed hunk in his life.

Bradley was pleased to see that Jeremy had met Hayden and Diego. Excusing himself, he made his way over to the two mountains of lard and the muscle-bound jock. “How are three of my favourite people?” he asked, when he arrived. He stifled a belch, before taking a swig of beer.

“Ah, I love fat Bradley,” Diego said to Jeremy and Hayden, as he clapped his loyal customer on the back. He turned to Bradley. “You were never this relaxed when we worked at the beach! But that’s all water under the bridge.”

Bradley flushed. “I guess I needed to walk a mile in your shoes.”

“Or waddle,” Hayden said. “And maybe not a full mile.”

The guys all laughed in response. Bradley noticed that Peter had joined the group. Patting the lower part of Bradley’s back, he joked, “This guy doesn’t even walk to the fridge anymore, he gets me to grab his beers for him.”

“That sounds like the life,” Hayden said, as the group laughed. “Diego, we need someone to bring us beers.”

“That could be a job for Jeremy,” Bradley said, giving his gym buddy a wink. Jeremy had been throwing himself at the blubber-bound bakery owners practically since he arrived.

The group chatted, and the beer flowed. After a while, Diego and Bradley got to reminiscing about their time at Thick Sands beach. Diego pulled out his phone, showing off an old picture of the two complete with sunglasses, smiles, and perfect abs. Bradley could barely remember what it felt like to be that small, and yet he’d been the beach babe-in-residence for years. If he tried to climb the lifeguard tower at his current size, he’d probably wreck the wooden ladder.

The time at Michaela’s flew by, with Bradley helping himself to the beer and bar food as his friends from work and beyond dropped by to congratulate him and talk. After what felt like no time, but what had really been hours, Peter arrived to remind Bradley of their dinner reservation. Draining his fourth beer, Bradley settled his tab and said goodbye.

“I was just chatting with Christian, the head lifeguard that replaced you. Looks like Wanda offered him your old job. He really is following in your footsteps,” Peter said, as they made their way out of the bar.

Bradley turned and looked at Christian, who was chatting with Wanda and Eric. He reminded Bradley of himself. With a smile, Bradley said, “If Wanda gives him the desk next to Eric, that might be in more ways than one.”

Outside, the air was cool and fresh. Side by side, Peter and Bradley walked to the end of the next block, to the small bistro that had come highly recommended. It was simply decorated, with sleek wooden furniture and a few rustic touches. The couple followed the hostess to their seat, and had a chance to look over the menu.

After a few moments, their waiter arrived with water. He was tall and thin, with a forgettable face. “My name is Justin, I’ll be taking care of you guys this evening,” he said. Justin was obviously gay, and he shot judgemental looks in Bradley’s direction as he spoke. Then, he turned to Peter with a smile. “Can I interest you in any drinks?”

“Yes, we’ll share a bottle of the house red,” Peter said. His face was blank. When the waiter took the drink menu and retreated, Peter rolled his eyes and Bradley chuckled. Apparently some guys still tried to deny the allure of the dad bod.

The pair chatted as they continued to weigh menu options. After a little while, the waiter reappeared to pour the wine and take their orders. After Peter ordered the white fish for his main course, it was Bradley’s turn to order.

“I’ll start with the fettucine alfredo, and then—”

“The fettucine alfredo is a main course,” Justin interrupted.

“I know. I’m gonna have it as an appetizer. And then for my main I’ll have the surf and turf, with an extra baked potato on the side,” Bradley said. He closed his menu. “Medium for the steak.”

With a glare in Bradley’s direction, the server clicked his pen and disappeared as the guys attempted to say thanks.

The two relaxed, drinking freely and swapping opinions about happy hour and whether Diego and Hayden would take Jeremy home. Peter painted quite a picture of the thick throuple that they were destined to become, and Bradley complimented his insight. Conversation was easy, moving from Peter’s family in Korea to Bradley’s high school diving career. Bradley slurped back the pasta, before tearing into his steak and lobster with gusto. Buttery potato and fried veggies disappeared into his vast gut. He felt increasingly stuffed, but he plowed forward. As they talked and ate, they (especially Bradley) finished the wine.

When the time came for dessert, Bradley couldn’t pass up the chocolate cheesecake. Peter tasted a spoonful, leaving Bradley to stuff himself with the rest. When the dessert plate was empty, Bradley excused himself to go to the washroom.

After relieving himself at the urinal, he paused in front of the mirror. No wonder Justin’s eyes had boggled as Bradley walked to the washroom: there were gaping spaces between the buttons of his shirt, revealing swathes of fat. And his gut looked massively round after a full day of stuffing himself stupid. Stifling a belch, Bradley plodded back across the restaurant.

Bradley pulled back his chair and slumped into it, ready to call for the cheque and take his boyfriend home. Except, as his giant rump made contact with the seat, he could feel something shifting. And as his bulging ass settled into place, Bradley heard a whining creak. A moment later, after a violent snap, Bradley’s big butt was on the floor, and he was surrounded by pieces of broken chair. Looking down, he realized that the two buttons straining over the fattest part of his gut had chosen that moment to give up, flying off under the pressure of Bradley’s behemoth belly.

“Holy shit, babe, are you okay?” Peter was at Bradley’s side in a flash.

“Fine,” Bradley said, feeling dazed. He felt embarrassed that part of his massive, hairy gut had been exposed to the cool air of the restaurant, made all the more embarrassing by every set of eyes bearing down on him. Peter’s shredded muscles bulging from the exertion, he helped Bradley to his feet.

By the time Bradley was standing, the manager had appeared. He was a middle-aged man, no more than 5’5” and skinny as a rail. Bradley’s gigantic frame absolutely dwarfed him. “Oh, my God. Are you alright? We are so sorry, sir, truly. Your meal is on us, of course. And let me write a note, your next meal will be on us, too.”

With nothing injured but his pride, Bradley certainly wasn’t going to turn down that offer.

By the time they got home, the couple was already laughing it off. “I really never thought I’d do something like that,” Bradley said, as he undid his remaining shirt buttons.

Planting his hands on Bradley’s sides, Peter traced the expanse of his lover’s thick gut. “You were just too much man for those shitty chairs.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re man enough to handle me,” Bradley said, clapping the underside of his belly and making it shake, despite the overwhelming fullness.

The two made their way to the bedroom, Peter caressing Bradley’s bulging love handles as they walked. “You know, the first time I went to the beach here, I fantasized about getting rescued by the hunky lifeguard?” Peter said. “If you still have your old uniform around, I could go for some role-play.”

“Sounds great,” Bradley said. He ran a hand along Peter’s hip. “You know what? I have a feeling we’ll be rescuing each other for a long time to come.”

[collecting-stories]

17 - Racetrack Higgins

A/N: Modern AU of Racetrack Higgins because I couldn’t help myself. It’s a little all over the place probably but I’m out of practice. 

///

“You know, cameras have tripods.”  

“Can you just,” Race waved his hand dramatically, as if to suggest that you sit and not complain.  

It was you who had asked to hang out after school anyway. Though not because, as you had explained in text, Katherine bailed. More so because Katherine had suggested that there might be something there between the two of you.  

“You’re always spending time alone.”  

“I spend alone time with Crutchie.”  

“Crutchie is gay.” Katherine had replied.  

“I spend alone time with Finch.” You tried for a second example, annoyed that Crutchie’s orientation would deter using him as a plausible reason why hanging with Racetrack didn’t mean you had feelings for him.  

“Also gay.”  

“Damn,” you cursed, “well whatever, that doesn’t mean I like Race, we’re just friends. We hang out the same amount I hang out with everyone else.”  

“Okay,” Katherine shrugged but you knew she wasn’t handing over any victory to you, “maybe you don’t like him but he likes you.”  

“Okay yourself Kath, lets rejoin earth shall we?” You replied, rolling your eyes at her.  

“He likes you.”

“He likes that we’re friends and that I agree to do stuff like, go with him after school and wait around while he practices.” You were hard set on the never-ending and never-evolving friendship of you and Racetrack.  

“He likes you watching him practice.”  

You could only roll your eyes at her, heading off to your last class before the day ended.

So you texted Race last minute, asking if he wanted to hang out after school because you wanted to prove yourself right. There was no way he liked you. If anything you were just the overly supportive friend who was ready with a compliment or a helping hand. He had practice today, nothing serious like a class, just him practicing for his college auditions. So he offered that you could tag along, promising it would be both fun and worth your while.  

‘Watching you dance is worth my while’ you texted back. Jojo and Finch could dance too and there was heavy debate over who’s extension was better between the three but you knew you liked watching Racetrack dance the most.  

‘Your a peach’ he texted back. Accompanied by a peach and a winking emoji.  

You let the conversation die and finished your math homework in what remained of study hall.  

While you had been to the studio the boys practiced at before you usually ended up in the waiting room or the observation room that parents were allowed to sit in. Even when it was just two of them goofing off for an hour of rented time you never went in. Race said once it was because you were distracting. You took it as an insult and typically refrained from going with him to the studio. It was Finch who usually invited you along. You figured the afternoon would play out typically so you sat in one of the benches in the waiting area as Race started to head toward the studio he reserved.  

“What are you doing?” He paused in the open door way and looked over, perplexed that you weren’t following him.  

“Waiting here?”  

“Come on.” He rolled his eyes and gestured for you to follow him.  

“Oh, alright.”  

You really liked dance, a conversation you’d had before with Finch. You were not in the slightest coordinated and doing even a cartwheel freaked you out when you were a kid but you loved watching other people dance. You’d been friends with Race since you were little and he’d always been this fluid. Even as kids his handstands and cartwheels and backflips had been so much better than all the other kids. And he never teased you about not doing them yourself. At this point you probably had two left feet but that wasn’t any matter to you, dance just looked incredible and you were happy to be there watching it happen.  

You managed to keep the camera steady through the entirety of his dance, trying to watch him both in person and through the tiny screen. You were not artistically gifted in any of the ways you wanted to be but you could appreciate someone who was.  

“That was really good!” You said, handing over the camera.  

“You always say that. You said that when Jojo fell off the chair after our tap recital two years ago.” Racetrack pointed out, hitting the playback on the camera so he could watch the video.  

“Well he got right back up.”

“That doesn’t exactly win you any brownie points.”

You rolled your eyes, “nobody’s perfect Race.”  

Katherine always teased you about hanging out with Race along but it was only in the last year that you’d started to again. There was a whole two year gap when he couldn’t be bothered to spend a second alone with you. In all honesty, while it had hurt your feelings more than you would ever admit to him you had just assumed it was part of growing up. Friends drifted apart and you were lucky that he seemed to get over whatever it was that kept him away.  

“Here, I wanna run through it again.” He handed over the camera for you to record his second attempt. You’d finished half your English homework during his stretching but now that lay forgotten so that you could double as a tripod.  

“You know, Finch has one of those like, tripod’s that attach to anything. You should borrow it next time.” You pointed out.  

“Good for Finch.”  

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re the one who asked to hang out.”  

“I’m not trying to argue Race, I was just making an observation.” You replied, watching him deflate. He was always a little too ready for an argument.  

“Sorry, just, are you ready?”  

“Yes.”  

The second time looked the same as the first though judging by his face as he watched the playback you were certain it was better. He even replayed the flip for you, explaining how it was tighter. Technique you didn’t have the brain to fathom but you knew good dancing when you saw it and his was amazing.  

“You looked great both times honestly,” you confessed, gathering your books together as he stretched again.  

“Well unfortunately you aren’t on the audition panel, though if you were you’d probably just pass everyone.”  

“Not everyone.” You laughed. “Though the flip without any kind of head start will always be impressive to me.”  

“It isn’t that hard.” Race replied, “I mean, you could probably do it if you practiced.”  

“No thanks, the last time I attempted a flip of any kind I broke my leg.”  

Race frowned, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to place the memory of you in a cast, “I don’t remember that.”  

“It was two summers ago, we weren’t really hanging out. I was at Finch’s house on the trampoline and he convinced me to try a flip.” You replied, “I was casted for most of the summer.”  

“He should’ve been watching you.”  

“He was. Doesn’t mean he could stop me from landing off the trampoline.” You shrugged. “It’s old news now, but it’s only solidified my decision to never attempt gymnastics or dancing again.”  

Race grinned, “you slow danced with me at homecoming.”

“I am powerless to say no to you.” You replied, smiling. It was true after all.  

A beat passed before Race finally spoke up again, “thanks for coming along, it’s nice to have the encouragement.”  

“Anytime, I’ve never been in here before. It was kinda fun.”  

“I thought you came with Finch a lot.”  

“Usually I just meet him after or I wait in the lobby. I’ve never actually been in here. You know how he gets.” You laughed. Finch didn’t like showing anyone his routines until they were completely polished. He was more of a perfectionist than Jojo or Racetrack in that sense.  

“Oh, yeah.”  

“What’s your deal with Finch?” You asked. It was the other piece of the something that Katherine had mentioned to you. The two of them had a long standing history of being friends through other friends but you didn’t think they’d been close since sixth grade. You had all your classes with Finch that year and the two of you had grown close.  

“What’d you mean?” Race asked, shouldering his bag and heading out of the studio ahead of you.  

“I mean, you guys used to hang out all the time and now you never do. I asked Finch about it but he didn’t have a clue.” You had asked, about three weeks ago when the two of you were having a sleepover with Buttons. Neither boy seemed to know the reason behind Race not wanting to hang with Finch anymore.  

Racetrack shrugged, “just closer with other guys I guess.”  

That wasn’t it at all though. It was irrational, especially now that Finch was dating Buttons, but that didn’t mean the feelings of jealousy that Race had been experiencing towards his once-friend weren’t real. It started the same place your friendship with Finch had started, in 6th grade. Race was already friends with him because they lived across from each other but you had never shown much interest in the other boy. And then 6th grade started and it was like you couldn’t stop hanging out with him and talking about him and Race just got more and more angry thinking about it.  

His annoyance at his once friend had eased significantly when Finch announced that he and Buttons were dating but that still didn’t ease all Race’s hostility. It still annoyed him that you spent so much time and energy on Finch. That you mentioned him all the time. Finch said this or Finch said that. Davey told him he was being unreasonably paranoid and that if he wanted to not completely ruin whatever friendship he had with you and Finch.  

“What do you wanna get for dinner?” You asked, letting the topic die. Katherine had told you more than once that she thought Race was jealous, that, she was convinced, was why he didn’t hang out with you from 8th to 11th grade.  

“I’ve been craving a bread bowl lately.” Race replied, starting up his vape as you pulled out of the parking lot.  

“Panera it is.”  

For being as lean as he was, Race could put away a lot of food. A bread bowl and soup, part of a baguette, a smoothie, and a chocolate chip cookie. Plus your bag of chips leftover from the sandwich you got. He didn’t say anything during lunch and you figured he was done with the Finch discussion. You knew you shouldn’t have brought the topic up in the first place but you were bothered by his behavior toward someone that was supposed to be friends with both of you. He acted like a jealous boyfriend half the time, annoyed when you mentioned something Finch said or did or talked about hanging out with him.  

And maybe Race was done with the topic of Finch but you weren’t, not when you really let yourself think about it. The more you thought the more annoyed you became. “I still don’t get why you don’t like Finch.” You mentioned, sitting in the car with Race as you drove home from Panera together.  

“I still don’t get why we’re having this conversation in the first place.”

“Because every time I mention him you get all pissed off.” You replied, “like right now.”

“I’m not pissed off.”

“Race-”

“Look, what do you care anyway? He’s gay, he’s not interested in you so I don’t know why you’re so head over heels for him.”

“Head over heels? Race, what are you talking about? Finch is my friend-”

“Yeah, such an awesome friend you had to ditch all your other friends!” Racetrack snapped, throwing his back against the seat as he crossed his arms over his chest.  

“What?” You felt like someone had just punched you in the gut. He sounded so angry and hurt and you weren’t entirely sure why. “What are you talking about Race?”

“Can we just drop it?” He asked, looking out the window.  

At the next light you pulled off onto a residential road and parked your car on the side of the street. Cutting the engine, you turned to Race, who still wasn’t looking at you. “Race-”

“I don’t have any hard feelings against Finch, he’s a cool guy.”  

“Then what’s it about?”

“It’s stupid...” Racetrack sighed, “I just...I know Finch is with Buttons and there’s nothing between you guys but I didn’t know that in middle school and I just felt like I was losing my best friend to this other kid.”  

“I never liked Finch like that Race, he’s just a cool guy that I liked hanging out with. I didn’t, and don’t like him. But I do like you.”

“Yeah?” Race asked, blush betraying his attempts to remain cool under the pressure of the conversation.  

“You’re incredible Race. I don’t even know how to describe it.”  

“You too...I like you, alot. It’s stupid but...I didn’t mean to be a douche about Finch. He’s a cool guy I guess I’m just kind of jealous that you spend so much time with him.”  

“I like spending time with you more. This afternoon has been awesome, even if we did argue.”

“The arguing wasn’t all bad.” Racetrack laughed, leaning forward and kissing you on the corner of the mouth. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as his lips brushed the edge of yours.  

-

I have so many newsies scenarios running through my head and I can’t think of how to write any of them. 

[archadianskies]

adage

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Sunday Day 7: Free Day; Ballet AU RK900/Simon

When the last child is safely in the care of her parents and out the door, Simon sighs and sinks back into his chair. Friday done and dusted, time to slink back home for a restorative Lush bubble bath and maybe an indulgent glass of red wine. His phone rings just as Kara’s locking up the kindergarten classroom, and he gives her a wave goodbye as she jogs over to Luther’s car.  

“North?” He sandwiches the phone between his ear and shoulder, fumbling for his bus pass. 

“Si, you doin’ anything tonight?”

“I mean, I’m doing what any respectable thirty year old does on a Friday night: taking a bubble bath.” Pass located, he slings his bag over the other shoulder and makes his way to the station. 

“Well save it for later. I have a spare ticket to the ballet tonight because Josh bailed-”

“He didn’t bail, North, he’s down with a cold!”

“Bailed.” She repeats sternly. “Anyway, free ticket to opening night at the Detroit Opera House. They’re doing Onegin.”

“I don’t know what that is.” His tone is apologetic as he rounds the corner. “I’ve never been to a ballet before.” 

“Well it’s a nice night out. I get to see my gorgeous girlfriend, you get to perve on boys in tights. Oh and did I mention it’s for free?”

“Yes, you did.” Simon laughs. “Alright I’ll come along.”

“Meet me outside the building at 6:20pm sharp.” 

 Onegin, Simon learns on the bus ride home, is a dramatic tale of two people falling for each other at different times in their lives. There’s duels and murders and missed opportunities, and it’s apparently an incredibly challenging ballet for both the female and male dancers. He gets to see it for free, so sure why not? 

After a quick shower and a quick message to his twin, Simon changes into something neat and somewhat fancy (it’s opening night, which sounds somewhat fancy) and heads back out. He’s coming up the steps, 6:19pm sharp and there’s North in a tux sans her usual combat boots. 

“Hey loser.” She greets with a grin, leaning to kiss his cheek. “Look at you all scrubbed up.”

“And you without your boots. What is the world coming to?” Simon teases as she laughs. “I had a look on their site, the show doesn’t start until seven?”

“Yeah but obviously I gotta smooch my girl and wish her luck.” 

“Surely you don’t need me to do that?” He cocks a brow as she snorts back a laugh. 

“Relax Si, I’m sneaking you backstage for a VIP tour.” North shrugs, looping her arm through his and tugging him into the building. There’s people in various degrees of fancy clothing from ‘somewhat’ to ‘not at all’ to ‘very fancy’ but North steers him away from the crowd and down a corridor. There’s a few ‘hi North’s and ‘she’s down the hall’s said in passing as North leads Simon through a field of floaty dresses and white tights and then they’re approaching a dressing room just as it opens. A petite blonde ballerina steps out, dressed in period costume. Her face lights up when she sees North, and she’s quick to close the distance between them.

“Hey cutie.” North grins, squeezing her close as Chloe giggles.

“You’re not meant to be here!”

“Can’t your girl wish you luck?” 

“Very quickly.” Chloe concedes, leaning up for a kiss. “Now sneak away back to your seat before Eli catches you!”

“Kamski’s stalking around?” North looks over her shoulder as if expecting him to materialise.

“You’re not the only one wishing us dancers luck on opening night.” Chloe laughs, poking her cheek. “And unlike you, he’s the director of the company and has a right to be here.” 

Simon stands back at a polite distance, admiring their exchange. They haven’t been dating long enough for Simon to have met Chloe yet, though their work schedules played a large factor in the delay too; when everyone’s working full time and they’re all a bunch of thirty-somethings, social schedules are hard to negotiate. Not that Simon negotiates much; he’s never been a social butterfly and there’s comfort in staying in the nest he’s built with his twin brother. 

He averts his eyes when they kiss, trying to allow them privacy, and distracts himself by checking his surroundings. There’s other ballerinas in lovely period costumes, and- what was the word for a male dancer? Ballerino? Dans ...something French. Handsome boys in coats and cravats and tights that look like the dancers were dipped in body paint rather than wearing something sewn from material. A dancer exits the dressing room on his right, and Simon accidentally catches his gaze. He’s tall, taller than the other male dancers, with a cut jawline and sharp cheekbones and dark hair that’s been artfully swept from his face. His costume looks fancier than the others, and he holds himself with the air of a leading man. Simon belatedly realises he’s still staring and quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

“This is Si.” North loops her arms through his, startling him, and he looks over to see Chloe’s smiling face. 

“It’s so good to meet you in person at last, Simon.” She shakes his hand, and Simon can see why North is so smitten with her and those big blue eyes and that joyous smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms Chloe.” He can’t help but smile in return, and it tickles him that North looks at her with unabashed adoration; there’s joy to be had in the joy of others. 

“Chloe, curtain’s up in fifteen.” A deep accented voice interrupts, and there’s that looming leading man only up close now, close enough if Simon reached out he could touch him and confirm he’s real and not some fever dream fantasy. 

“Alright Ronan.” Chloe’s smile turns apologetic. “I’m going to have to shoo you both away now.”

“Good luck with the performance.” Simon clasps her hand again and North steals another kiss before they leave. When he looks over his shoulder, he catches Ronan’s eyes again, the dancer looking at him with mild curiosity and Simon hastily drops his gaze. North gives him a wicked grin.

“His name is Ronan Stern and as far as Chloe knows he’s single.”

“Shut up.” 

 Objectively he knows what ballet is, and even though he’s never attended a live performance he’s seen clips and movies and gifs and photos. It really is different sitting in a fancy theatre and watching it unfold in person, though. The orchestra is right there, the dancers are right there, and it’s all so tangible in a way he’s never experienced.

Ronan plays Onegin himself, and Simon wonders how it is that a human being of flesh and blood and bone just like him has somehow honed his body into an instrument like that. Surely humans aren’t made to leap that far and jump that high and hoist up ballerinas like they weigh nothing more than a doll? He dances with power, with purpose, and there’s an intensity to him that Simon’s drawn to. Chloe’s petite stature is dwarfed further by his build and the way he holds her and carries her makes their size difference so obviously delightful. She’s dainty and demure and he’s commanding and calculated and somehow it’s a beautiful match and Simon can’t take his eyes off of them.

Onegin is a man ruined by his own pride, and in doing so ruins the lives of others. There is no redemption for him, and Tatiana holds no love for him anymore when they reunite years later. The story ends and it isn’t happy, it’s just and rightful and Simon thinks distantly it’s somehow different from Swan Lake because this time the woman lives and she’s safe and loved. He likes this one better.

“You haven’t said a single word.” North pokes his cheek once everyone takes their final bow and the applause has died down and the lights come on again. “You liked it?”

“Holy shit?” Simon breathes, and North bursts out laughing.

“Uh huh.” She nods. “Yeah, holy shit. You hooked?”

“God is it always like that?”

“Pretty much.” She laughs again, slinging an arm around his waist as they shuffle towards the nearest exit along with the throng. “I’m a convert. Never thought much about ballet but there’s something almost magical about it isn’t there?” 

“They can’t be mere mortals like us.” Simon sighs dramatically. “Not when they can move like that and spend two hours on their toes or carrying the entire weight of another person.” 

They exit the opera house and before Simon can step away, North tightens her hold around his waist.

“Come on, I’m picking Chloe up by the stage door.”

“You don’t need me around to do that.”

“Yeah but between the two of us I’m the gay that can drive, so I’ll give you a lift home.” 

“...You sure?” Simon resists when she tries to tug him away. “I mean, I don’t want to come between you two. I’m sure she’s tired and would rather go home right away.”

“You’re one of my besties, Si.” North rolls her eyes. “I want to see you home safe and not taking the goddamn bus at this hour. Chloe’s gonna be cool with that.”

“If- if you’re sure …” 

“I’m sure.” North declares, all but dragging him to follow.

There’s a small crowd at the stage door, family members and partners Simon guesses, collecting their talented dancers and congratulating them. Chloe emerges in a long cream coat with a fluffy fur collar and North picks her up and spins her around.

“Congrats babes, you were perfect.” She grins, peppering her face with kisses as Chloe giggles brightly. 

 “Ready to go home kiddo?” A gruff voice by his ear asks, and a middle aged man brushes passed him to reach out and clap Ronan on the shoulder.

“Dad? I didn’t know you were coming.” Ronan blinks in surprise, a small smile spreading on his face as he embraces him tightly. 

“I managed to convince him.” Another voice pipes up, belonging to a young man not dissimilar to Ronan though without the accent. “Not that dad needed much convincing- this is your debut on home soil after all. And what an amazing debut it was, Ronan.” 

“Come on.” The father of the pair jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Connor cleaned up his room and everything. I’m not letting you go back to your apartment on opening night; you’re spending that with your family and not with Reed. I already spend enough time with that grumpy dumbass at work I know what you’re in for.”

“We have agreed to a truce because of the cats.” Ronan grins, adjusting his grip on his bag as his brother helps shoulder his way through the crowd. Simon watches them leave and Ronan looks over his shoulder, their eyes catching again briefly before Simon looks away in panic.

 “C’mon Si, let’s get you home.” North snaps his attention back to the present, flicking his temple. 

“He’s single.” Chloe pipes up, and Simon feels his cheeks heat. “And likes boys too.”

“Will you two stop it?!”

In the car he takes the back seat so Chloe can sit up front. 

“He just moved back from London.” She continues despite his exasperated sigh. “He was accepted into the Royal Ballet program when he was nine and is the youngest danseur to be promoted to Principal Dancer in recent history.”

“But he gave that all up?” Now he’s curious. “Why would he then step down from that and move back to Detroit? We don’t exactly have the most thriving ballet scene in comparison.”

“I’m not sure either. I spent a year as the guest ballerina with the Royal Ballet, he’s an absolute dream to dance with.” She catches his eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles. “He’s the perfect gentleman, and everything I could ever ask for in a partner. When the season ended he told me he wanted to come back to Detroit. Elijah was more than happy to offer him a position.”

“Maybe he got homesick? Connor’s pretty glad to have him back.” North shrugs as they idle at a red light. “Saves him from travelling to London all the time to visit.”

“If he marries a nice boy in Detroit then he’ll never even think of going back to London either.” Chloe giggles slyly and Simon groans, slumping in his seat.

“Okay listen, I appreciate you two arranging a marriage for me but-”

“Simon, I don’t know how to break this to you but your future spouse is not just going to materialise in your home.” North sniggers. “At least let us try and meddle a little.”

“North told me about your ex and-”

“North!” Simon protests and North cuts in.

“No, shut up, Gideon was an asshole Simon I’m still mad about him. Okay I ranted to Chloe even though you told me not to tell anyone, but I was going to explode if I didn’t tell anyone.” She stands her ground, muttering under breath. “Murder is illegal, anyway.”

“Ronan is a lovely gentleman, at least give him a chance?” Chloe smiles encouragingly.

“He’s like the 2005 Pride and Prejudice Mr Darcy only in tights.” North adds, and Chloe bursts out laughing as the car pulls up at the apartment block. “Okay Si, goodnight.” 

“Thank you for coming to watch us.” Chloe turns back in her seat so she can hold his hands. “It’s really lovely to meet you. I hope we can hang out soon.”

“It was absolutely magical, thank you Chloe.” Simon squeezes her hands, smile ernest. He flashes North a grateful smile. “And thanks for the lift, North.”

 Danny’s already asleep when he tiptoes into the apartment, so he makes sure to make as little noise as possible. Slipping into his room, he flops onto his bed and pulls out his phone. Wrestling against the temptation only lasts all of five seconds before Simon is typing ‘Ronan Stern’ into google and diving into articles and accolades. No Facebook, no Twitter but he does have an Instagram, and he’s also featured in the Royal Ballet’s Instagram account often. Or, well, used to as stated in one of the posts from six months ago showing a farewell post.

He’s...infuriatingly attractive, like the way Markus is infuriatingly attractive but in a different kind of way. Simon’s crushed on Markus for so long, so he knows how this story goes; he’s going to pine away, absolutely ache for him and wear his heart on his sleeve and they will be friends and Ronan will have no romantic interest for him the way Markus sees him as a good friend and nothing more. Simon is used to the heartache, really. It’s also why he ends up in shitty controlling relationships with shitty controlling men because he’s bad at speaking his mind and he’s bad at saying no. 

Sighing, he follows a link to Youtube and watches an excerpt from some sort of modern ballet Ronan performed last year with Chloe. It’s fast paced and dizzying and powerful, and his heart catches in his throat a few times when Chloe throws herself into leaps and jumps, Ronan always there to catch her and fling her and flip her. They’re a blur of wild movement and perfect partnership. Youtube recommends more clips, and it’s midnight but he has no self-control so he’s clicking those too, watching Ronan in other ballets, some clips even just sneakily filmed footage taken by an audience member.

He ends up watching interviews too, watching Ronan without the makeup and the costumes. He speaks like someone not used to giving interviews, and Simon finds it endearing that for a man with such a commanding presence he speaks almost shyly. The accent helps too. Simon shoves his phone away some time nearing 1am, barely remembering to brush his teeth before he falls asleep with a smile.

 “Si?” Someone’s shaking him awake, and Simon groans. “Si, get up.” He cracks open an eye and promptly rolls over.

“Go ‘way Danny it’s Saturday. Let me sleep in.”

“North’s here.” He turns back over.

“What?”

“SI GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED OR WE’LL BE LATE!” He hears her call from presumably the front door.

“Late for what?” He pulls his pillow over his face as Danny laughs. 

“That’s entirely your problem.” He’s poked in the side, and he yelps, squirming away from the torture. “Anyway I’m off. I’ll bring you any cookies if we have leftovers by the end of the day.”

“Bye Danny.” Simon pulls the pillow off and smiles sleepily at his brother, who gives a wave as he departs.

“Simon! C’mon!” North appears in the doorway of his bedroom looking unimpressed.

“What are you doing here? It’s-” he fumbles for his phone, “fuck it’s 7am on a Saturday!”

“Yeah and class starts at 8am and we still gotta pass by Starbucks on the way!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Up!” She dives forward and yanks the quilt from the bed and he curls up immediately, shrieking in protest. “Up up!”

“North-”

“Just come with me Si, please? Just trust me on this one. I’ll even buy you lunch.” There’s a pause as he considers the offer.

“...Burgers at the Chicken Feed?” He peeks over at her as she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, yes, burgers at the Chicken Feed.”

“Deal.” 

 He’s not awake enough for this, and his eyes feel like burning coals in his head as he tries to keep them open. They stop at a Starbucks and North orders four coffees, not two, and carefully hands them to him. Keeping his hands on the little cardboard holder, he sets them on his lap and the warmth provides a little comfort on this bizarre mysterious trip. 

“Are we going to Josh’s? Is this to pep him up for his thesis, since he’s down with a cold?” He asks as North makes a turn, and he spares a glance at the coffees, making sure he’s holding onto them securely.

“Nah, his boyfriend’s coming by today to take care of him. Josh didn’t want you to come over in case you got sick and since you work with kiddies that’d be pretty shitty.” She explains, making another turn. They’re entering the back of some large building that sort of looks a bit familiar. “Okay cool, we’re pretty much on time for them to arrive.”

“Them-?”

“I’ll get the door for you, hang on.” She parks the car and hops out, rounding the vehicle so she can open his door and temporarily hold the coffees. 

“I still don’t know where you’ve taken me.”

“It’s not like you were going to do anything else this morning.”

“Excuse me, I was going to sleep in and then I was going to put the laundry on and curl up on the couch watching Netflix.” Simon huffs, accepting the coffees back. 

“Uh huh.” North rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, this’ll be pretty relaxing too.” 

It feels a lot like sneaking into somewhere they’re not meant to. Simon may be sleep deprived but he’s alert enough to realise they’re not meant to be here. They’re coming through some back door, through a long hallway and North is uncharacteristically quiet. There’s a hush in the atmosphere, tension and baited breath, and even in the elevator North says nothing. Anxiety coils in his chest as he trails her, scarcely daring to breathe before she looks over her shoulder and gives a triumphant grin.

“Okay, we’re here!” She opens a nondescript door and they’re in some beautiful open room with an entire wall of glass overlooking Detroit. One of the other walls is entirely covered in mirrors and there are a handful of people in various combinations of gym gear and tights and-

“Oh my god.” Simon feels his stomach drop and he doesn’t know whether to be angry or embarrassed. “We can’t be here!”

“We totally can, I do this every Saturday.” North grins, scanning the room before waving. “Babe!”

“North!” Chloe skips over to them, laughing when North picks her up and spins her around, a customary greeting Simon surmises. “Oh! And a wild Simon appears!”

“Not by choice.” He huffs, glaring at North before he holds out the tray of coffees. “I’m going to assume one of these is yours?”

“It’s the almond chai with honey, thank you.” She selects the cup and plucks it out, tipping up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Well, we still have about fifteen minutes before class begins. Which one is the soy latte with a triple shot and caramel?” 

“This one.” Simon taps. 

“Excellent.” Chloe nods, before turning. “Ronan? Coffee!”

He’s going to murder North. He tries to convey his murderous intent and his best friend smiles innocently back at him in response. 

“Coffee?” Ronan walks into view wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of robin's egg blue tights that hide absolutely nothing. 

“This is Simon.” Chloe introduces with a bright smile. “North’s bestie.” 

“A pleasure to meet you.” He murmurs softly, shaking his hand. His hand is warm, his grip firm and Simon’s sure his cheeks are bright red. “Thank you for bringing us coffee, especially so early in the morning and on a weekend no less.”

“I-it’s nothing. Wasn’t really going to do much today anyway.” 

“Oh, Markus! Good morning!” Chloe calls out as the door opens, and yes, there he is, there’s Markus Manfred looking incredibly stylish like no one has the right to be this early in the morning.

“Hey everyone, hey Simon.” Markus grins, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “What are you doing here?”

“North dragged me here.” He glares over at her and North only grins back unrepentantly. “What are you doing here?” 

“I play the piano for morning class every Saturday.” He smiles one of his thousand kilowatt charming smiles and Simon still aches for him even though he knows the ache will never be soothed by Markus. 

“You two know each other?” Ronan asks curiously, looking between them. 

“Yeah, Simon’s one of my good friends.” Markus grins at him. “And so is North. I gotta go warm up and I bet you guys need to too. Take a seat by the piano, Simon. You and North can chill in that corner, I promise no one minds.”

He hopes he’s conveying enough Murder on his face when he looks at North as they curl up in the corner. North smooches his cheek with a wink and he sighs because he knows he’s not really mad, just incredibly shy and self-conscious. 

“These are ours.” She taps the remaining coffee cups. “Now sit and relax a little Si. Just enjoy it.”

Markus runs his fingers along the keys, up and down the scales before tapping out brief snippets of various songs. An older woman enters the room and the dancers greet her respectfully and then class begins. 

Simon’s still not sure he can quite comprehend how ballet is possible; it’s incredibly complex and beautiful and demands so much of the human body. He watches them go through familiar motions he’s sure they can repeat with their eyes closed, gradually increasing in difficulty until they’re leaping and bounding across the studio. The dancers shed some of their layers as the class progresses and their bodyheat rises from exertion, and Simon’s not beyond admitting (to himself, at least) that he’s enjoying this display of bodies in peak physical form in incredibly tight fitting clothing.

He’s inevitably drawn to the way Ronan moves, to the way he’s so confident and sure of every step, every sweeping gesture in time to the jaunty sprightly tunes Markus plays. He does as he’s bid, following every instruction called out by their teacher with the intensity of a soldier obeying orders. It’s a mesmerising display of elegance and power that reminds Simon of how his twice a week yoga classes really don’t hold a candle to the strict regimen these dancers must adhere to in order to keep their bodies in their prime. The hour passes and only as they’re saying goodbyes does Simon realise he hasn’t even looked at Markus once.

 “So what did North want?” Danny slumps on the opposite end of the couch, making a show of flopping his legs over Simon’s.

“Hm?” He looks up from the Royal Ballet instagram account, distracted.

“North. This morning at 7am when she stormed into our house.”

“Oh she uh, dragged me off to the ballet studio to deliver coffee to her girlfriend and watch her morning class.” Simon quickly exits the app and wriggles into a more comfortable position.

“Why would she need you to do that?” Danny frowns. 

“To get me out of the house so I wouldn’t just stay inside and watch Netflix and do laundry.” Simon laughs, completely avoiding mentioning Ronan at all. “It’s ok she bribed me with Chicken Feed burgers for lunch, and paid for the Starbucks.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to thank her for single-handedly dragging you kicking and screaming into having a social life.” His twin teases with a grin, and Simon kicks him with an exasperated groan. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a cute boy there.”

 He meets said cute boy again, completely by accident the very next day. Actually, what happens is he sees a very large Saint Bernard dog waiting patiently beside a tall pair of legs in the queue at Starbucks, before he realises who the tall pair of legs are connected to.

“Heeeey, who’s a good doggo hm?” Simon chuckles as the dog sniffs his hand and pushes its very large head against it, obviously expecting pats. 

“Sumo would hope it’s him.” Says a deep, accented voice that’s become rather familiar to him recently.

“Oh, Ronan h-hi.” Simon freezes, eyes wide when he looks up to see Ronan’s handsome face wearing an amused smile. 

“Good morning Simon.” 

“How was class?”

“Class was fine.” They shuffle towards the counter, and Simon tries not to stare at the sharp figure Ronan cuts in a long navy woolen coat and fancy plaid scarf. “I have a performance tonight so I’m resting for now, but I thought I’d take Sumo for his morning walk.”

“He’s very cute.” He can’t help but pat the dog again, the Saint Bernard giving a happy booming chuff in approval. “Your dad’s dog?”

“Yes, he’s getting up there in years but Connor and I still love him to pieces.” There’s a wistful expression on his face, his smile fond. “Both he and our dad work at the DPD, so Sumo stays home a lot. We try and make sure he goes for long walks in the mornings and evenings to make up for it.”

“Chloe said you moved back to Detroit recently?” 

“Yes, about six months ago. I went straight into rehearsals for the season after only two weeks. Mr Kamski was keen to have me start.” The person ahead of them finishes paying and heads to the end of the counter. “Venti soy latte with a triple shot and caramel and a grande soy hazelnut latte please.”

“Oh, are you meeting someone?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“No it’s for you. I read the other coffee cup yesterday, I know North’s usual, and I didn’t recognise the other one so it must’ve been yours.” Ronan’s smile is a little hesitant and Simon hopes his absolutely red cheeks signify he doesn’t mind one bit. “Now we’re even.”

“Excellent work, detective.” Simon tries to quip as Ronan taps his phone to pay for both coffees.

“My brother’s the detective, not me.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Though I suppose I won’t deny being called observant.”

“Well you’re used to noticing minute body cues.” Simon points out as they wait for their coffees. “Your partner depends on it. The way Chloe just...throws herself in your general direction without hesitating, and knows that you’ll catch her. It means she trusts in your abilities, in your partnership.”

Ronan looks at him eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and Simon feels stupid stupid stupid until he notices the faint rosiness to his cheeks, and the way Ronan averts his gaze after a moment too long. His heart skips a beat, his heart does that stupid thing where it throws itself in the general direction of a pointless crush without hesitating, without knowing if the other person will catch it. It does this every time, every single time, and sets Simon up for nothing but heartache later. 

“That’s very kind of you to say, Simon. I’m glad that comes across when I dance.” Ronan says quietly, almost murmuring it into his scarf as if too shy to say it any louder. Simon knows this will go nowhere, just like his love for Markus but he’s always been unable to control his heart’s desires. 

“I mean, I know nothing about ballet but I think that just lets me have a different perspective.” Simon rambles because he doesn’t know how to control any part of himself, apparently. “Critics know all the terminology, all the moves, all the stories of the ballets so they’d pick it all apart but since I know nothing I get to just enjoy it. Be in awe of the fact you’re human like me but somehow you can make your body do those things; dance like you can almost fly.”

“Simon, I-”

“Order for Ronan?” The barista calls out, and Simon is blessedly grateful for the interruption, looking at Sumo instead because he suddenly can’t face looking into those startling grey eyes a second longer. 

“Here, Simon.” The large cup is held out to him, and Simon can’t help but let their fingers brush when he takes it because if he’s going to get his heart broken all over again the least he can do is indulge in the illusion of happiness for a little while.

“Thank you.”

“Would you- would you like to come along for a walk?” Ronan stammers hesitatingly and he’s ever so endeared. “I usually take Sumo for two laps around the park and then head home.”

“I’d really like that, if you wouldn’t mind the company?”

“I would like your company very much.” 

The park is starting to turn into hues of sepia as Detroit eases into Autumn, and it’s Simon’s favourite season. It means cosy sweater weather and staying inside. Sumo trots happily ahead and Simon sips on his coffee and darts Ronan glances every now and then.

“I um, I wanted to ask you why your surname is Stern?” He catches his gaze briefly before focusing on Sumo again. “You said your brother Connor is a detective, and I realised North’s friend is Detective Connor Anderson at central station.”

“Oh I-” a thoughtful frown. “We’re both adopted. We were in the system for a while, and Lieutenant Hank Anderson fostered us. I got into ballet through the Abraham Kamski arts outreach program. Before the adoption process was complete, I was accepted by the Royal Ballet on scholarship when I was nine.”

Simon tries to imagine what that would’ve been like, to have one’s whole world change at the age of nine. 

“Professor Amanda Stern became my legal guardian, so I became a Stern too.” Ronan explains, brows furrowed. “She wasn’t a mother figure. I felt like a student constantly under her tutelage, but she was never unkind. Just...intense. She believed in discipline and order and structure and pushed me to do my best. She taught- still teaches, advanced robotics in London though she came from Detroit too. She once taught Elijah Kamski, our current director and son of Abraham Kamski. That’s how it all came full circle- me moving from Detroit to London under her care and then back under now under Mr Kamski’s.”

“You spent all those years by yourself in London, without seeing your brother?” Simon tries to imagine what that would’ve been like too, but the pain is too great. “I have a twin brother, Daniel. He’s only older by a few minutes but the way he acts you’d swear we were years apart. He’s so over protective of me but I guess that’s because we’ve only had each other for so long.”

Ronan raises his brows curiously, and Simon tries to keep his emotions reigned in.

“We had a pretty ordinary if conservative upbringing in the suburbs but um, we got disowned when we were outed- well, I was outed by a classmate. Danny outed himself too, the moment our parents started yelling at me and we were out on the streets at seventeen. I don’t know if I could’ve spent so many years away from him, the way you were apart from Connor. I think I would’ve fallen to pieces.”

Ronan is quiet for a moment, before he reaches out and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m sorry you had to grow up without Connor. And he grew up without you.”

“I had ballet and he had the police academy. We stayed connected via social media, it wasn’t too bad. When we were old enough we could fly to visit each other during breaks, if we managed to have enough money saved.” Ronan sighs, shaking his head. “You’re right though, some nights I would feel so lonely I thought I was falling to pieces.”

“Is that why you came back? Why you gave up such a prestigious position at the Royal Ballet?” Simon pries a little, hoping he’s not being presumptuous.

“Yes.” He answers with barely any pause for thought. “I wanted to be where Connor was, and that’s here in Detroit.”

“I imagine that decision didn’t make many people happy.” Simon winces as Ronan sighs heavily.

“No, but it was the right one. I don’t regret coming back to Detroit. I don’t regret giving all that up to be with my brother again. Well. Sort of. I don’t live with them since there’s no room and I have a housemate I’d rather kill but he has cats that like me and I like them more than I like him so I guess he gets to live for now.”

He says it so seriously, face deadpan, that Simon laughs loudly, startling Sumo. When he manages to recover, Ronan is smiling and Simon finds himself smiling too.

 The working week passes in a blur and all Simon can do is stalk Ronan on social media and soak up what the internet has to offer and try his very best not to be so outwardly in love though it fails because Danny always knows how to read him.

“It’s the cute boy at the ballet, huh?” His twin grins, kicking his shin under the dinner table. Simon winces, kicking him back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh okay, so I guess the ticket North dropped off for the finale performance of Onegin was meant for me?” Danny pulls out an envelope with a dramatic flourish and Simon lunges over the table to try and grab it. 

“Give me that!”

“No, it’s not meant for you, you have no idea what I’m talking about!” Danny laughs, holding it out of reach. Simon whines in frustration, trying to reach for it in vain.

“Dannnnyyyy!”

“What’s his name?”

“Danny give it!”

“Not until you tell me who it is!”

“It’s Ronan.” He slumps in his seat, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh the hotshot from London?” Danny laughs, tossing the envelope over to him. “Yeah alright he’s pretty cute I guess. What? I looked through the program you left on the kitchen counter. He sounds way more impressive than Markus.”

“Markus is plenty impressive.” Simon mutters, snatching the envelope. 

“North told me he has a Louis Vuitton pencil case for his charcoal sticks.” Danny cocks a brow. “His charcoal sticks , Simon. Anyway, full international scholarship at nine years old? Youngest dancer to be promoted to principal dancer? That’s way more impressive.”

When he looks at his brother, there’s something more than fond teasing to be found in his expression, so Simon opens up a little.

“Y-you think so? This isn’t...stupid, is it?” 

“It’s not stupid, Si. I mean, your heart can be plenty stupid but that’s how you are.” The teasing is gone, replaced entirely by infinite kindness. “You love so openly, so intensely. I’m here because of that. You’re friends with North and Josh and yeah, even Markus because of that. You look after kids all day and you love your job and you love them and that’s why you’re so good at it. That’s why you’re such a good person.”

The tears fill his eyes and he feels stupid, but loved too and Danny’s wobbly smile tells him his brother feels the same. “That’s why you deserve to date an accomplished hotshot from London in incredibly tight tights.”

“Danny!”

 It’s Friday and he’s coming up the steps, 6:19pm sharp and there’s North in an oxblood leather jacket over a jumpsuit and her usual combat boots. 

“Hey loser.” She greets with a grin, leaning to kiss his cheek. 

“Hey yourself.” He elbows her lightly before crooking his arm as she hugs it. She’s leading him down a corridor and he knows the way now. When Chloe slips out from her dressing room and into North’s arms, Simon sidesteps them politely and heads for the room down the hall, knocking on the door.

“Simon.” Ronan blinks in surprise, and he’s Eugene Onegin again, sculpted cheekbones and artfully swept hair. “Hello.”

“Hi.” His heart’s pounding, thudding so loud it might as well be the beat for them to dance to. “Good luck.” Tangling their fingers together, he tips up slightly on his toes and presses his lips to his and there’s a moment of surprise before Ronan circles an arm around his waist and pulls him in so they’re pressed together. They part for but a second before Ronan kisses him, and he kisses the way he dances; commanding and intense and powerful- the kiss of a leading man that sweeps his costar off their feet. It leaves Simon panting and dizzy and starstruck, and he knows he’s never been kissed like that all his life. Ronan seems a little self-conscious, a little embarrassed as if afraid he’s overstepped and Simon huffs a laugh, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’ll see you after the show.” He cups a palm against his cheek, pulling him to lean down and bump their brows together. 

“And many more times after that, I hope?” 

“Yes.” He laughs brightly, stealing another kiss. “And many more times after that.” 

[sirjustice288-blog]

Uses of flower

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.insider.com%2F5d2c83b9a17d6c0f4502f4c3%3Fwidth%3D1100%26format%3Djpeg%26auto%3Dwebp&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.businessinsider.com%2Fmissile-seized-in-italian-police-nazi-gang-raid-missing-warhead-2019-7&tbnid=UwLE0dXkkJ_TqM&vet=12ahUKEwio_oigybDqAhUEexoKHYGlCAUQMygAegUIARCjAQ..i&docid=jtYz2TpdO2K9MM&w=1100&h=550&q=italian%20made%20misiles%20images&ved=2ahUKEwio_oigybDqAhUEexoKHYGlCAUQMygAegUIARCjAQ

Buy mini-fruit juice extractor like of sugar cane as well and with ya planted sugar don’t take to the factory 4 minimal pay but call 1 who can make sugar in the boom process b4 u pay him to reap huge profits

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ALeKk02Y8yv5nSJeEekfHHa95cqmUxA4Mg:1593843779662&source=univ&tbm=isch&q=sugar+cane+juice+extractor+mini-machine+china+made+images&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiRp8Hi-rLqAhVx8uAKHe9kAI4QsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1024&bih=657

https://www.google.com/search?q=fruit+juice+extractor+mini-machine+china+made+images&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwity97j-rLqAhUC3OAKHWlXBnUQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=fruit+juice+extractor+mini-machine+china+made+images&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQA1ChfFjMgwFgoo4BaABwAHgAgAGpAogBsAiSAQUwLjMuMpgBAKABAaoBC2d3cy13aXotaW1n&sclient=img&ei=RiAAX62QDoK4gwfprpmoBw&bih=657&biw=1024

Cut flowers are used to make paints, wedding cakes, viscos women clothes like blouses, pants or bra, men panties and vests as well, napkins and handkerchiefs, rubber, plastic accessories like with electric accessories like switches, stereos bulbs etc, sandles, candles, plastic wares like kitchen utensils, artificial leather, glasses, plastic equipment like tapes or chairs, while cooked cabbage of much water grinned, makes like nylon type of clothing both for men and ladies and even socks, tissue, soviet, hand bags and purse etc. Mfalme wa yawhodi to bring out reality of what Christ meant and most so ways to finish Britain and where the source 4 the above raw materials like Kenya.

When Turkey got tea, the EU members will not leave turkey and opt 4 African tea as many prefer coffee to tea as well as densely Asian nations like Pakistan will buy much from India or china as well as Indonesia from Malaysia more than Kenya as they are 1st in racism or sell them more cheap than the next country to them than yours and with the boom process how will u market more tea to make ya economy big if u don’t use the gimmicks explained below to kill their soil, like with dredger and sprinkling chemicals in dark snowing time to reduce soil fertility to produce low quality tea in low amount so your step in. Dude how will it happen knowing in mind many nations produce tea. Stop dude and resort to reality!!!

Cut flowers even makes candy and bubble gum when placed in cuddled milk solution or yogurt in the boom process, every kind as with different smells of the petal of the flower.

The seats in the link below if u got them in ya house increases longevity and can make ya go to hell if u u bar people from ya house as most people are turned off when they see such seats in ya house and the urge to live long as well can make ya land in hell fire. We should live like the birds of the air to avoid the above or resorting to every-now and then prayers of repentance.

The laws that Killed stepheson were made in Jo’burg, that led to his being stoned now the location at the corner of Migosi pri school from dala hera church where if i pass makes ya love good things of this life as changes ya mind. If u give same in judgement day in life after death may acquit ya of hell fire if u did not know but heard it prior to ya death or past sins 4given b4 u got the data. The Narrow path along the school wall leave the big 1 and the Kondele supermarket, newly opened makes u hate good things, if u had known why could u get there and hate good things of this life will be the question that day, better say u did not know the same or u had to pass the former road of making ya love good things, but those who sees ya knows dude to tell more of ya a/c if at all used the roads, so take heed dude.

In making of roads and buildings such as sky-scrapper, garbage inserted in sewer water can replace the wires, and bolts/nuts inserted as previously explained in the boom process.

With bond 7 u can place cut sukuma wiki inside b4 hurling with piss, saliva or cold water or hurl the same using kale water or seldom apple fruit seed mixed with water and boom ya liqour formed or any other as u try with every procedure laid in tumblr a/c sirjustice199.

The city of Athens killed Plato and  as to me he is a prophet cause most of his poems, writings and sayings were taken and still used to date lubricated in others own as in the tumblr a/c above and even most of the wise teachings of the bible and Swahili sayings and proverbs as well as songs. King of the jew to remind us of the truth and who to that city built on the hill as it will be more tolarable the sidion and tire than it at the judgement day. Now bankers were saying they are benin blooded which aint a lie but now Nigeria, Ghana, Ethiopia and Tz making as well planes and many nations havent posted their yet, so how many nations now u want to claim allegiance b4 now u sponsor crime as most workers wants even ya food as they have seen realities of Liquid cash being eliminated. Kuna kupanda na kushuka mwanang’u, u want us to respect u and demands people to dress good, now its u to learn to dress moderately as no other well paying job need ya attires like hotel, Casino bouncer, insurance and ministerial low paying jobs or be a dignitary which is 1 man job or dress that way on Sunday. Stacked dude. U wezi chesha na kebi both in Sex and in real life as the song link below, kinda r stucked on kebi wanting him to tolerated their weird character men as explained above, sawa gani, die if u cant hustle, me aint ya papa or kid, Govt or God who created ya.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYaLCqbuQlI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhsTB4rq1XU

They falsify crime and now resorted to petty theft to raise that bail cash 4 ruto to later put in their own investment as the public are blind not to reason as kebi while the many Kikuyu knows the exact above and Ruto cheats his tribe they got difference with The President to make more people contribute to the bail even it means getting out money off their pockets. The politician followers, if u r poor u are poor, accept reality and move on, stop such gimmicks taking the nation no-where. Putin even if u succeed in life hell fire awaits ya, that’s what i can say, as a pit latrine is emptied the on the other hole with the emptied refuses soil and leaves added not to diffuse and smell or 1 fall into the same way when hell is full is done that way and another location found, which if u dig came out like magma and mostly those areas vegetation around them are dry. So fellows mark those location as the 1 in Minneapolis is almost full looking 4 another place, Malachi 4 to remind us of the truth. Believe it or not dude, u of insane mind, the women wont help ya cause now its point blank u cant win them with empty hand dude resorting to shifting your being furious to poor citizens. Take ya arousal to ya motherfucking mothers or family, u ugly of no money when investigated.

UAE, Saudi Arabia 1st made airplane in the link below and Norway, Israel passenger plane

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELcdAHvGlPA

https://www.israelhayom.com/2019/06/23/israel-presents-first-electric-powered-passenger-plane/

https://www.arabnews.com/saudi-arabia/news/884811

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVR436-OOMc

https://www.arabianbusiness.com/transport/433886-first-made-in-uae-aircraft-ready-for-launch

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.gulftoday.ae%2F-%2Fmedia%2Ftest-pics%2Fuae.ashx%3Fh%3D500%26la%3Den%26w%3D750%26hash%3D8D603C9E51C75C1387705A19B307AB32&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.gulftoday.ae%2Fen%2Fnews%2F2019%2F03%2F12%2Fuae-residents-can-fly-electric-aircraft&tbnid=MmpezwhOLx9K9M&vet=12ahUKEwijqZW8p5_qAhW2gM4BHZzjBF8QMygTegUIARDCAQ..i&docid=W-zyJClGpQ0kgM&w=750&h=500&q=UAE%20made%20airplane&client=firefox-b-d&ved=2ahUKEwijqZW8p5_qAhW2gM4BHZzjBF8QMygTegUIARDCAQ

https://www.khaleejtimes.com/business/aviation/first-made-in-uae-defence-jet-ready-to-take-off-

https://www.thenational.ae/business/aviation/norway-set-to-plug-in-electric-passenger-planes-1.741883

Kenya Good than USA and why after one food like wild dogs even wanting to put up a fight in disguise with another reason, eti “waacha, set aside“ u poor but blind to see

When people are ill against ya and u don’t see or join the bad as with women, as being warned to stay away from a man with those seducing himto be his gays then, kinda, if u take a close look at that woman or man, kinda, u see spatted saliva on his face as 1 spits heavy and thick saliva on his face vindicating they are mad as masai blooded are found of that character, disassociating from the good if its against their wish as their flower sector finished using other mechanisms to make the same as well explained above in following tumblr a/c of sirjustice199. That was their pride of being 4gotten now wants to eat in others houses claiming is their land employing many yet them sidelined.

With ya window security, it can be made like with 3 - 4 like 1 cm hard metallic bars emanating from below or above to close the window so no intruder gets in as it can be automated with 1 main switch. The same can be mounted on side walls of the window either from outside or from inside or within the wall width that houses the window as the window frame. To avoid African style that gets into the head making u furious which Africans were eyeing the west to buy out of the killings in-house and theft never thinking technology can bar them like with laser lights and motion sensor alarms/lights. So they wanted to create market by making eye attracting windows 4 the same but alas their efforts are crushed into jeopardy leaving them stranded dude as in the below link pals

https://www.lowes.com/pl/Window-security-bars-Window-hardware-Hardware/4294644649

The Most buildings of USA and Europe where not built by the white-man rather green-man long time ago b4 they left 4 other planets 4 the white man to come and occupy while the remedy to making such buildings stay afloat is sprinkling from a chopper rice in the dark as they call 4 curfew to do the same and even with bridges and many roads but 4 big skyscraper African-american will see the emanating lights and see the building collapse even among those who transfigure thus robs them their dignity and pride and now even Africans have learnt how to make the same without involving laborours or machine in the boom process which now its like a poison to them heading nowhere and those buildings now old and more are above them in style so want to demolish them to build new as their is the times they can be refurbished with rice lest if u continue it collapse and the time is due now so wants to bring the crafty in mind Africans to Africa to enable the above to be done, saying this and that is rich or poor yet not the course as the course is embedded in the truths explained above if u did not know and even encourage people to share food. Stop even the African Americans now know how to make the same and its futile dude. Worker and vineyard parable to bring out reality dude.

Come Mr white-man with ya women u have planned 4 me and i show u dust, if u dont shoot me then a stone will fall in ya face synonymous with King David telling us ya character as their will be no understanding either u shoot as tresspass or if u got no gun hurl stone like him. Come on dude in daylight is see what u got or ya face not in the darkness of the night. Saying they locate peoples houses as kalenjin do to clain alergiance not knowing tea can be made in boom process bought from other tea producing nations not necesarily Kenyan 1 as in the link below

https://www.myassamtea.com/tea-plantation/top-tea-exporters/

[winnipegpatty]

i’ll pretend i’m okay | s.m. story

a/n: read the prologue in my masterlist! 

disclaimer: i don’t know shit about royal stuff we’re just out here having fun

“What all is on the schedule today?” I asked Charlotte as we walked towards the back gardens.

“Tea with Phillip is in an hour. Lunch with William is at noon. Afternoon tea with Harry is at four.”

“Jesus Christ, she really wasn’t fucking around.” I muttered, as we reached a set of large doors.

Charlotte pushed the door open for me, “Afraid not, Your Highness.”

We stepped onto the cement steps, and I paused, taking a moment to stare at the sky. Perhaps there were a way out of this. I could try to make a scene, embarrass the Crown. That never went particularly well for, but desperate times and all that. I could try to talk to the parents, maybe see if they’d be willing to push it off. Perhaps I could offer to go to university. That’d give me four years at least. It wasn’t an appealing option, but it was at least an option.

Taking a deep breath, I turned towards Charlotte, “I’m going to go for a walk in the garden.” She nodded before I added, “Alone, please.”

Understanding, Charlotte backed through the door, as I stayed on the steps. The same two Queen’s Guards, I’d embarrassed myself in front of,  stood at attention

“Gentlemen,” I nodded at each of them, eyes lingering for a moment on the one with the curls.

“It’s 2019,” I said, to no one in particular, “I really thought the monarchy would be past arranged marriages. Did no one watch the second Princess Diaries?”

Sighing, I stepped towards the garden.

__

“Phillip was an absolute bore.” I told the two guards as I walked in from the garden after tea.

__

“William is a fucking wanker.” I told Charlotte after lunch.

She choked on laughter, “So sorry, Your Highness.”

__

I snuck out of the afternoon tea with Harry, needing a break.

“Don’t tell the Queen,” I told the guard with curly hair, “But Harry is almost certainly a closeted gay man.”

He didn’t respond, obviously, but I liked to pretend I saw a small gleam of laughter in his eyes.

__

You’d think there would be a small supply of readily available men who met all the criteria of the Queen, but turns out that simply isn’t the truth. For days, it seemed, my schedule was packed full of meeting after meeting with men, just waiting for one that was The One.

But this wasn’t a fairytale.

That was my sister’s story, not mine.

I was convinced that I’d never find The One anyway. No man suitable to the Queen would be suitable to me. And no man like that would desire me either. And while, yes, it was to be arranged, there was still a degree of choice involved, for both parties. I was the princess with a bad reputation. A princess that went out on the weekends and got drunk. The princess that brought nothing but embarrassment to the Crown. I hadn’t attended university, but had instead decided to attend to my own needs. I brought filthy men home, just to annoy my mother.

Men of reputation and standing wanted nothing to do with me. Which is exactly how I’d designed it.

In recent days, filled with men and nothing but men, I’d taken to walks in the garden often. Now, I could lie to you and tell you this was because I liked the gardens. They are beautiful after all. Or I could tell you it’s because I needed to get away from the stuffy men mother wanted me to marry. And this would be true, but not my reasoning for choosing the gardens over, say my own room.

After four days of “appointments” with these suitors, I’d come to rather like the attention of that certain curly haired Queen’s Guard. There was something about his eyes, lingering on me as I walked and as I talked that was exhilarating. As a Queen’s Guard he was directed to not move, unless patrolling his post or encountering a public nuisance. He was not to visibly react to anything around him. And that’s what made him perfect. It was a way to discuss my thoughts and get absolutely no response. Even Charlotte, bless her, did her best to turn even the most horrific circumstances into something you could smile about. It was her worst quality really. Sometimes a person just needs to have a small pity party. And this had become my time and place.

“It’s been four days, and I’ve seen three men every day. That’s twelve men, you see.” I looked at the boy, then turned away. “Twelve guys and every single one of them is a fucking wanker.”

Charlotte would probably kill me if she knew I were out here consistently telling secrets to a random guard. But oh well.

“You know, it’s weird how you guys can really just stand here and not respond to anything. That’s a talent, I think. Really, I mean, props to you guys. I’d be laughing my ass off at the pathetic princess if I were in your shoes.”

I wonder if I could convince Charlotte to bail on one of my appointments to go to the salon. Maybe I could convince her it was to make myself more presentable or something. That might work.

“And you really don’t laugh at people’s jokes or anything?”

Maybe this weekend I could sneak off and do something completely disastrous and stupid. It’d been a while since I’d really pulled anything like that. Honestly, most night I was just tired. I’d curl up in bed and watch something on Netflix. Right now I was binging Queer Eye. I’ve not nothing but respect for My Queen, Jonathan Van Ness.

“Well lads, looks like it’s the same shit but a different day.” I paused. “One direction said that, didn’t they?”

And so it went, my life. Day in and day out. Boys in and boys out. Never once, seeing someone a second time. I really wasn’t sure quite how long this would go on before I would inevitably have to sit down with my mother for tea again. I rarely spoke to my mother, really only in the most formal of matters, but I could imagine she wasn’t happy with me. She was probably high up in a tower somewhere screaming to my father about what an insolent spoiled brat I was.

“What’s your favorite One Direction song, now that we’ve brought it up?” There was no response, as usual. I stared directly into the guard’s stunning eyes, “Well, I for one, love Ready to Run.” I swear to god on my life, he smiled. And I dreamed about it for the next three days.

The first time I made the guard laugh, I thought I was hallucinating. And frankly, I almost hoped I was because he could actually get seriously in trouble for that. Even fired. And I certainly hadn’t wanted that. But god, the sound of his laugh. It was like a fucking angel came down from heaven and just swept me up in it’s heavenly music.

“So a man came to a duel armed with a pencil and paper, and then,” I took a dramatic pause, “He began to draw his weapon.” And he’d laughed. At possibly the stupidest joke to exist, but he left out one quick chuckle before quickly erasing any signs of happiness. It was a drug that I was high off.

___

“Tea with your mother is in an hour.” Charlotte announced upon entering my room.

I looked at her, “Honestly, I’m shocked it took her an entire month.”

“The Queen requests you come in appropriate attire.”

“Leggings and a crop top it shall be then,” I snickered.

Charlotte sighed, but didn’t respond.

She would almost certainly have to retire early due to the extra stress I put on her with all my defiant behavior.

But, staying true to my word, I pulled on a pair of black leggings and a small black bralette. I wore a sheer crop top with embroidered flowers on it. I looked hot, frankly, and the anticipation of my mother’s reaction was like taking a shot. It was one of the few things bringing me pleasure recently, making her life as absolutely miserable as possible considering it’s what she deserved.

“This is what you consider to be appropriate wear?” My mother growled through her teeth as she was sitting at the table, newspaper in hand.

“Well, you never specified the occasion, mother.”

“For god’s sake Y/N, you can do absolutely nothing right.” Anne folded the newspaper and placed in to the side. “Now Lord Mendes will be here any moment and there frankly isn’t time to have you change out of the hideous costume of yours.” She gestured to my body. “It’s honestly like you were raised on a different planet.”

“Or perhaps like I wasn’t raised at all,” I smiled pleasantly.

“Enough, Y/N. Now take a seat.”

“Why are we even here? If I’m just meeting another person, why are you here?”

“Well, since you’re incapable of keeping a man for more than a minute, your father thinks it best for me to be with you from here on out.”

I leaned back in my chair, groaning. “You’ve got to be fucki--”

“Lord Mendes, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness,” a man named Jeffery announced to us, opening the door and revealing my next suitor.

Anne stood, and I followed suit, my royal training kicking in.

“Your Majesty,” a young, velvety smooth voice came as the man bowed to her.

“Lord Mendes, please meet my daughter, Her Royal Highness Princess Y/N.”

“Your Highness,” the same bow now directed at me.

Coming up, I offered him my hand, he gently brought it to his lips pressing a chaste kiss to it as I curtsied.

“Lord Mendes, it’s a pleasure.” I said in a sugary sweet tone, looking up from my hand to meet his eyes.

It was only in that moment that I recognized him as the Queen’s Guard I’d been fraternizing with over the past month. It wasn’t common for Queen’s Guard to be anything but people of the commonwealth, but it wasn’t entirely unheard of for members of rank to join the military or guard.

“No, the pleasure, is most certainly mine,” Lord Mendes returned. His cheeks were a rosy red as his tongue flicked out of his mouth to lick at his lips lightly.

The three of us took our seats, The Queen at the head of the table, and myself and Lord Mendes sitting across from each other.

“Please do excuse my daughter’s dress, Lord Mendes,” Anne sniffed at the air. “She finds it a game of sorts to dress in ways I see unfit.”

“Well,” he smiled across the table at me. “What a daughter would she be if she didn’t give her mother a difficult time now and again, but I do think she looks quite lovely.”

She hummed just as servants came to swiftly serve tea and brunch to us.

“Now Lord Mendes, what is it that you do?” I asked as I poured a splash of milk into my cup of tea.

“Please, do call me Shawn, Ma’am.” I nodded at him. “I come for a long line of Generals, but I chose to attend university at Eton. And recently joined the Queen’s Guard so my mother wouldn’t be able to say I was the only family member not serving the Queen.”

“Well it is wonderful to have you as a member of the Guard, Sir,” Anne responded, taking a sip of her tea.

“Yes, it is absolutely wonderful, Shawn.” I smirked across the table.

___

The Queen was away on a diplomacy trip to France and that meant there was only one Queen’s Guard on the back doors. Which meant time alone with Shawn.

It was nice finally knowing his name.

“You really were going to just let me stand here for an entire month? Talking about all these horrendous guys, when you probably knew you’d eventually be one of them?”

I stared into the hazel eyes, wanting to get a rise out of him.

“You let me think you were just some normal guy, but you’re a fucking noblemen just like the rest of us. Walking into a room and you’re suddenly His Grace, Lord of Hastings. Did you think I would never find out, or were you just hoping I’d find out like that?”

I had half a mind to start poking his chest, but this was the best way to talk to him. When he was completely unable to respond because, let’s face it, I’m a fucking coward. Despite the inkling of a crush that had developed for Shawn over the past month, I was and always had been incapable of having a rational conversation about feelings. It’s part of being a royal. You don’t discuss your emotions because your emotions do not matter. The Crown matters, and nothing else.

“What so I would come out here every day and tell you my frustrations and look at your gorgeous eyes and see those curls and what like I almost started to trust you? And I didn’t even know your name? Is that it?” I huffed, turning away from Shawn, struggling to even understand what was happening.

For all intents and purpose, I was quite happy with Shawn being a Lord. He was the first guy in a string of horrible set ups that wasn’t a fucking prick and I quite liked him. He wasn’t bad on the eyes, his voice had that same velvety sweet taste that his laugh had the first time I’d heard it. He wasn’t completely disagreeable to talk with, even while sitting with The Queen. He had personality, which was rare in my world. He was, really, Prince Charming in every aspect of the concept aside from not being a, well, prince.

In short, he was perfect.

“Your Highness, if I may,” Shawn’s voice came from behind me, almost silent.

I spun around, completely shocked. Shawn could get fired if he were caught talking to me, or anyone for that matter.

“I do believe you’re overthinking this,” His voice was barely above a whisper and his lips hardly parted. From far away, it would most likely not appear as if he were speaking at all, and he certainly wouldn’t be overheard.

“How so?” I questioned.

“I had no plan, Ma’am.” The corner of Shawn’s lips quirked very slightly. “You came out to me every day. You spoke to me. You were always the one approaching me. I just stood here at my post. I never spoke. And I did my very best to never react or respond in any way. I had no idea I’d be meeting you, but I suppose after a month of botched dates, the Queen was quite desperate. I am, afterall, on the absolute lowest rank of nobility. And invite to the Queen’s castle is almost unheard of in my family.”

I scuffed my shoe on the gravel, knowing it would have irked the hell out of my mother. “Well, I suppose I came because, I quite liked you.” Feeling slightly stupid at this confession I rushed to fix it, “I mean, I know I don’t even know you, but I liked something about you. I’m not even sure what. But, if you don’t think I’m completely insane for using you as an outlet of frustration for the last month, then I’d really like to see you again. Preferably without my mother present and when you can talk and not risk being fired.”

“I’d like that, Ma’am.”

“Please, we musn’t be so formal, Shawn. I hate it.”

___

“Charlotte, will you be coming with Shawn and I on our ride this afternoon?”

Charlotte entered the power room where I was patting down my face, preparing for the afternoon horse ride planned with Shawn.

“I believe not, Ma’am.”

“Well, you will be missed,” I replied as I set the makeup brush down. Turning to Charlotte, “But I’m quite excited to speak with Shawn alone.” There were small butterflies fluttering in my stomach, which was a new sensation.

“I’m sure the Queen will be happy to know you’ve made a step of progress, Ma’am,” Charlotte responded.

I stood, moving into my large closet. “He is very handsome, don’t you think, Charlotte.” Not allowing her time to respond, I asked, “Now the maroon pants with the black top, or the black jacket with white bottoms?”

“Maroon.” Charlotte spoke immediately.

“You’re right, much less stuffy.”

Walking through the castle always felt like a maze, even when you grew up in it. And getting anywhere took at least ten minutes. But that was perfect because by the time I reached the front staircase and had began my descent (as any princess does, you don’t even need a ball for that shit), Shawn was already waiting at the bottom. He was dressed in light blue jeans and a thick sweater. The jeans were something you’d never seen him in, but frankly they were doing a lot of good things for him.

“Your Highness,” Shawn bowed.

Traditionally in a setting such as this, it really wasn’t necessary for Shawn to greet me in just a formal way, but it was kind of sweet the way he insisted on being such a perfect noblemen.

“Your Grace,” I laughed a bit through a curtsy as I joined Shawn on the ground floor. “You ready to show me your riding skills?”

“Oh most certainly,” Shawn said, puffing himself up. “I won first prize at Jeffords Jockey Camp in Year 6.”

“Wow, Year 6. Ten year old Shawn must have been a champion.”

“Oh I was, Year 7 wasn’t quite as stellar for me, however.”

I laughed, hooking my arm through his. “Well the stables are this way.” I led him through the castles towards the West Wing.

Shawn was sweet and adorably clumsy and extremely awkward when it came to trying to flirt, but it was as perfect as it really could have been. His personality rose and challenged my wits. He laughed at my idiocy, and I could tell that despite giving off a cherub like good boy quality, he certainly wasn’t as prim and proper as he appeared. As we rode at a leisurely pace we passed stories back and forth. Shawn sharing his university experience, and me sharing some of my man escapades as princess.

“Y/N,” Shawn asked during a short lull in conversation. “I’ve got to ask, what has you so hesitant about getting married?” Shawn tugged on the reins of his horse when she’d suddenly begun trotting faster than mine. “I mean, not to me, of course not to me. Just, in general. Why is the idea of being married so terrible that you had to consistently come and rant about it to a measly Queen’s Guard?”

I smiled, looking over at him, “Well, I didn’t have to come outside everyday, I chose to. I liked something about you that I couldn’t even understand myself. But as far as marriage, it’s not marriage that makes me hesitant. It’s marrying someone who I don’t love at all. I’m not expecting just huge fairy tale story for me, Shawn. But I do want to be in love. I think I deserve that. I’ve given my entire life to this country, why do they get that too?”

Shawn nodded, understanding, but not speaking.

“Here,” I guided my horse, Shawn following, to a small patch of trees. I climbed off mine, tying the horse to the tree, and Shawn followed suit.

“Is it really that difficult being a princess?” Shawn questioned as he tied his horse up in a similar fashion to mine.

“Well,” I motioned for him to follow me through the trees, “I guess it depends on the day.”

Shawn hummed, coming to walk alongside of me.

“Shawn, do you like me too?” I asked abruptly, looking at him. “I know that I’m the one that came to you everyday, and you just had to stand there and listen to me whine usually, but...is this, like mutual? Or am I just crazy to hope that it could be?”

Staring into Shawn’s hazel eyes, my heartbeat quickened. Shawn studied me for a moment while I grew more nervous every second he didn’t respond. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, debating how to respond before he gently grabbed my fingers, pulling me close to him.

“You’re not crazy,” he whispered.

“No?” I gulped.

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s mutual, Y/N.”

___

It had been three weeks since the appointments with suitors had stopped, and I’d begun to exclusively see Shawn. We’d grown closer with each encounter, and we still had many moments outside the back garden, him in his Queen’s Guard uniform and me doing whatever I could to make him smile. Some days he’d lightly nudge me, unbeknownst to his counterpart guard, in lue of a response.

The Queen seemed rather pleased, according to Charlotte. It seems Shawn has settled down some of my antics or something of the kind.

“But, she’d like to set up a meeting with you to discuss the forward proceedings with Lord Mendes,” Charlotte had said a couple days again.

“Forward proceedings,” I groaned. “She really has to kill the joy in everything.”

But here I was, today, for once actually having dressed appropriately. Wearing a knee length powder pink skirt, a white blouse, and a matching powder pink suit jacket. Outfits like these made me want to throw up. But considering I actually liked Shawn, and didn’t want to screw this up, I’d decided I would behave appropriately.

A young man introduced me as I stood outside my mother’s office. I quickly wiped my sweaty palms against the skirt, and took a step into the room.

“Your Majesty,” I greeted her formally, entering with a curtsy.

“Ah, Y/N, you look lovely today.” She brightened only slightly as she looked at me. “Please sit down, love.” She gestured to the seat in front of her desk, and I took it silently, placing my hands in my lap. “Now, tell me. It’s been about a month with Lord Mendes, are things proceeding well?”

I nodded lightly, trying not to show true emotions. “I’d say so. We have plenty of common interests and he isn’t completely terrible company.”

It was sad, but I was somewhat afraid that showing my mother any true emotions would deter her approval. Not that I had solid evidence, but my personal happiness wasn’t exactly priority for my mother. I’d make this seem like I’d decided to do my duty as a princess, and nothing more.

Anne nodded sternly, “That’s good to hear. You know, he’s not of high noble rank.” Her voice wasn’t exactly disapproving, which was good, but she certainly wasn’t thrilled.

“No, he isn’t Ma’am.”

Royalty was weird. While I was talking to my mother, in formal matters like this it was still best to see her only as the Queen and me as the Princess. Almost as though she were my boss. We were discussing what’s best for the country, and nothing more.

“And you’re certain none of the higher noblemen would suit you better?” The Queen questioned.

“I don’t believe so, Ma’am. But, if I may,” I looked to her for permission to continue, and she nodded. “Lord Mendes may not be of high rank, but he is pristinely trained, a complete gentlemen, and he knows everything a nobleman should know. He’s never given me reason to believe he wouldn’t conduct himself perfectly at a function. And as I am not heir apparent, it isn’t of as much importance who I marry. He is still noble, and will continue to bring honor to the Crown.”

The Queen’s face softened and her lips lifted ever so slightly. “I see you are passionate about this. Your points are correct, and I believe we will meet with the Baron and Baroness next week to discuss details of an engagement.”

I nodded to my mother, and for only a moment, allowed myself to smile.

An Engagement. To Shawn.

“Thank you, Y/N,” my mother spoke succinctly. “That is all.”

Taking my cue, I rose from my place and curtsied again before leaving.

I was really getting married. And to Shawn Mendes of all people.

tagging: @rosecth @fourtristattoos @peacedolantwins2 @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @yourwonderbelle

[cultgambles]

Just The Girl

HMMM

I was listening to just the girl by the click five and idk man i was inspired ™ to write for roger.. Please be kind! This is my first fic for the guy…

Side note: I can never read x readers with real people bc i think it’s just weird but I can for roger? But like, I imagine him as Ben!Roger in specifically the movie and i guess it’s not real real? Anyway…enjoy

Requests are open (but i am slow) | i have a tag list too (she’s empty)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1711

“Roger, what was that performance? C’mon, you can’t hold Freddie–a-and the band back,” Paul chastised.

“Well I think he saw a girl in the crowd he fancies. They never come to our shows, why did they decide to come to this one? Of course, it’s the one that’s not as spectacular,” Freddie chuckled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roger replied haughtily, stalking off.

“He knows,” Freddie whispered loudly.

Roger made his way to a nearby bar he had happened to see passing by. He ordered a beer and watched a group of girls stumbling over each other to reach a girl on the dance floor. He squinted.

“Wait. [Y/N]?” he shouted. Her head popped up from the crowd and gave a sly smile, pushing past the people surrounding her.

“Rogah Tayla! Nice performance today.”

He took a sip of his beer, “Eh, could have been better.”

“Yeah, but the part where you go ‘ready Freddie?’ Mmm, I love that part.”

Roger smirked slightly, looking [Y/N] up and down. “So, will you let me take you home tonight?”

“Hm, no,” they laughed, “I’ve got my eye on a cute girl I saw earlier.” [Y/N] pointed towards the entrance was. There were at least five cute girls Roger could see.

“Which one?”

“The blonde.”

“I’m blonde.”

“In the red dress.”

“I’m wearing a red jacket.”

“What is this, Taylor?” [Y/N] watched the girls dance for a moment and bid him a quick farewell. “Got things to do, ya know how it is.”

“Abbey! Wanna get outta here?” he heard them yell. Watched them wrap their arms around the blond chick’s waste and watched them place a kiss to apparently Abbey’s temple. He saw them both giggle and step out of the bar.

Roger threw back his drink and slammed some cash on the counter.

The night air was cold, biting at the tip of his nose and eyelashes. He kicked at the pavement.  “Damn, that [Y/N]. How can she just lead me on like this? I mean, last week, we had a good bit of fun, but this week she acts like I don’t even exist. UGh! I’m sounding like a teenage girl. He thought of their laugher and was quickly pulled into a silent reverie.

“Wow, man, you’ve got it bad. We’ve been trying to get your attention for the past three minutes,” Brian coughed.

“How did I get back here so fast? I swear I was just outside the pub…”

“Bet he’s been thinking about [Y/N] the entire time then. Oh! Let’s call her up to hang out!”

“Nah. She went home with someone,” Roger shrugged.

“A guy?” John questioned.

“No. A girl called Abbey I think? She even kinda looked like me!”

“That’s cold, mate,” said Brian. Roger flopped onto the couch.

“Tell me about it. Remember when we had that school reunion and she pushed me in the pool? I couldn’t even wear my clothes after that they were so wet.”

“Oh, of course I remember that.”

“Well. I say we get this [Y/N] girl up here at some point to hang out. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met em. What do they even look like?” Freddie questioned, twirling a glass of wine.

“Hm…They’ve got bright purple hair now…And they usually wear leather jackets?”

“Roger may always go for those ditzy girls, but I think he’s got a thing for bad girls.”

“Don’t they always wear dark lipstick too?” Deaky piped up.

“What? How does everyone know this girl but me? Roger, invite her over,” Freddie pouted.

“Yes your highness,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to bed. See ya guys tomorrow.”

“Invite her!” Freddie shouted after him. He turned back to the rest of his bandmates. “So, think he’s got a chance? They sound like a lesbian goddess to me.”

Roger was definitely not going to invite them anywhere.

“If I recall, they used to hook up sometimes during university. But then [Y/N] would disappear for a bit.”

“An enigma, huh?”

“Oh definitely.”

The next day was a day spent in the city, as the boys had no performances or tours. Freddie, like always, was eccentric and hounding on Roger to invite [Y/N] dinner.

“No way! I don’t want you blokes to embarrass me,” Roger shrugged.

“I’ll ask [Y/N], then,” Brian piped up.

Freddie clapped his hands together. “See? We’ve got at least one sane person!”

“Yeah. I’ll just call her up then.”

“NO! You will: not do that.”

“C’mon, Rog, maybe Brian wants to see his longtime friend. It doesn’t even have to be about you.”

“…Ugh. You guys are never gonna give this up, huh? Fine. Do it. I don’t care,” Roger threw his hands up in the air, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Yessss!!!” Freddie fist pumped the air. “Bri dear, go on and call [Y/N] then!”

“Alright, alright.” Brian fished a couple of coins out of his pocket and stepped into the phone booth.

“Hello?” he heard their sleepy voice drift through the receiver.

“It’s me. Brian.”

“Oh! My favorite person. Why the HELL did you wake me up so early?”

“Uh, it’s noon.”

“Yeah! That’s basically the middle of the night!”

“What kind of clock are you on–no. This isn’t what I called to talk about it. Freddie and me and you to come over for dinner. Or go out somewhere. Your choice.”

“Dinner with the famous rock band? Sounds tempting, but I think I’ll have to pass.”

“I thought I was your favorite person?” Brian half smirked.

“[Y/N], babe, come back to bed,” another voice whined.

“In a minute, Abbs. Gotta go Brian. Don’t wait up,” and with that, the line clicked dead.  Brian sighed, dropping the phone back into the holder and stepped out of the booth.

“Well how’d it go?!”

Brian could see Roger lift his head slightly from where he was leaning cooly against a building wall. “Unfortunately, it’s the middle of the night for [Y/N] and she doesn’t want to come over anyway.”

“Awe,” Freddie pouted. “Rog, where’s [Y/N]’s house? Deaky, what do you have to say about the matter?”

“I think we should leave them be,” Roger and John said simultaneously.

“You guys are no fun.”

In truth, Roger, Deaky, and Brian both knew they were practically under their friend’s building.

Deaky looked up, and could barely see [Y/N]’s retreating figure from the window. “Yeah. Leave ‘em be.”

“Ugh! How can she ignore me like this! And yet, she’s just the girl I’m looking for?!” Roger shook his head.

“Hey! You’re Roger! And the rest of you must be Queen, yeah?” A female voice piped up. Roger glared slightly, recognizing the girl from yesterday who [Y/N] took home.

“Yeah, and you’re that chick [Y/N] took home, huh?”

The girl smirked, “Yeah, what’s it to ya!”

Roger frowned and shrugged slightly.

“Roger dear is jealous,” Freddie whisper shouted.

“Shut UP! I’m not!”

“Not what?”

“[Y/N]!” Deaky smiled, side hugging them.

“Hey Deaks. What’s up?”

“Thought you were asleep,” Brian looked them up and down.

“Yeah, I was. But a certain someone woke me up.”

“OH! So you’re the infamous [Y/N] I keep hearing Roger talk about? I’m Freddie! Nice to officially meet you!”

“Rog talks about me, hmm?” [Y/N] smirked, pressing up against him. “Hey, Taylor.”

“Hey, [Y/N], wanna go get coffee?” Abbey asked.

“Nah, you go on ahead. I’ll see ya later,” they said, throwing up a peace sign.

The girl pouted a bit, but mumbled a ‘see ya later’ and went on her way.

“Why don’t you grab lunch with us then? I mean, while you’re here,” Roger stuttered.

“Awe, that’s cute,” [Y/N] said, patting his cheek. “Guess so, I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, now there’s two gays in the house. That means….”

“More trouble!” Freddie chimed in.

“You’re bi though…” Brian laughed.

“Eh, saying I’m gay is easier than explaining I like guys and gals. You know how it goes.”

“No…not really.”

‘Whatever, Freddie understands. Right, Fred?” In response, he laughed and nodded, saying something about the gay agenda.

The gang decided to get sushi, the rest of the boys silently agreeing to force [Y/N] and Roger to sit next to each other.

“Thought you guys wanted to wait for dinner, but now we’re having lunch? Wild,” [Y/N] said, kicking up their feet on the chair adjacent to them.

“Well. Obvious change of plans,” Roger snorted to which [Y/N] rolled their eyes.

“You guys already act like a married couple,” Freddie commented.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“Anyway, I can’t wait for your next album, guys.”

“You listen to our stuff a lot, then?” Deaky asked.

“Uh yeah, you guys are amazing. Don’t let it get to your head though.”

“Too late,” Brian laughed, watching Roger glean with pride.

The group stayed for a couple hours, and [Y/N] bailed early because of their job. “Bye guys. Bye Roger,” they said, kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

Roger gestured to [Y/N]’s retreating form wildly. “They’re a mystery! Maybe they’re too much for me?! Why do I keep coming back to them?!”

“Ya just got it bad, man,” Bri laughed, patting him on the back. “I’m sure it’ll work out. Eventually.”

“He’d wait that long,” Freddie said, elbowing him in the side.

“I’m sure [Y/N] had a good time, so we’re probably gonna see more of ‘em,” Deaky said, “I’m kind of excited. We haven’t hung out in a while. You know, with becoming famous and all.”

[taylorj8771]

The retirement fic

Here it is. The next part. Thank you to Visionshadows for all your help with getting this section as best as it’ll likely ever get. It really did a number on me…

Update: I was finally able to add the links! Thanks for bearing with me.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

—————————————

Part of the process of Sidney being approved as an Adoption Family includes meeting with Synia in her office roughly once every other week. They started having the meetings a week after his initial paperwork was filed, around the time their daily phone-calls ended. So far it's mostly been Synia getting to know Sidney better so she can determine how he may fit with children the agency has ready to be placed.

Much to Sidney's own surprise, he actually has started to think of her as more of a friend that he can share all of his secrets with. It’s an important distinction for him that it's a requirement he does but he’s genuinely enjoyed their conversations. They’ve met three times in the last six weeks, all uneventful talk about how he was raised and how he’d like to raise his own child, before she sits him down for a "serious talk". He's not sure what to expect but he sits somberly in the chair across from her desk and waits patiently for her to begin.

She shuffles a few papers around before clasping her hands together on top of her desk and leaning forward. "We received the results of the background check just the other day and we’ve made a few phone calls to the references on your application."

She looks a little like a teacher who's having to scold a student she likes, torn but clearly obligated.

"Is there something you left off of your paperwork that you would like to tell me about?"

"Uh…" Sidney shifts in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Sidney,” she pauses, “why don't any of your references know that you're married?"

A rush of breath leaves him like he’s been punched in the gut. He tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly too dry and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. The only other sound he can hear is his jaw clicking but it's like his whole voice box bailed and he can't make a sound.

"We couldn't reach your husband by phone, either."

"Geno's in Russia." He spits out the first lie he can think of. "He's been back there for a while, taking care of his family."

Synia levels him with a look that clearly says I was not born yesterday. "Taking care of family for five years, Sidney?"

He winces and shrugs all in one motion and lowers his eyes to stare at the floor in front of her desk.

"Look Sidney, I meant it when I said that I’m your friend in this. I want to help you get the child you want. I’m going to be honest with you, it does not look good that we only found out about this because of the background check. I need you to help me understand this, okay?"

Synia shifts back in her chair and waits patiently while Sidney weighs the very few options he has in front of him. There is only one choice, though, if he ever wants to have a family of his own. He raises his eyes to meet hers and asks, mouth dry and his voice cracking, "This stays between us?”

"Everything you say in this room stays completely between us."

Sidney nods once and clears his throat. He tries to figure out the best place to start their story, so she can understand it all — it’s so long winded, he already knows, but it will only make sense from the beginning and he needs her on his side.

He swallows hard and when he speaks again, his voice is soft. "First, it’s a sham marriage.” Synia opens her mouth and Sidney hurried to speak before she does. “Geno and I got married twenty years ago."

He shifts in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He keeps his eyes down, hoping that the lines on the carpet of her office will morph into words for him to read like a script.

"None of my references know because we never told any of them. We never told anyone.”

He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.

“Geno is from Russia and you have to know that Russia is nothing like the US. Most of the government is corrupt and capable of doing some of the most depraved things. The KHL, where Geno played his first couple of professional hockey years, is part of that. When he first came to the US to play they made a lot of problems for him. He had a lot of trouble getting his visa and was almost deported until ownership was able to break his contract with his team in Russia. When his entry level contract here was ending, we were all really nervous about what would happen for him.

“Geno had a very real fear of being blackmailed into going back. Even after we won the Cup, he was afraid they’d try to take the NHL away from him. If he had already accomplished everything he could in the NHL, there was nothing new for him to bring back home for them to claim as theirs.”

Sidney rubs his hands together and takes a quick glance up at Synia. She’s watching him with an attentive expression and he soldiers on.

“It was just after we won the Cup in oh-nine. A group of us were talking at one of the parties, completely trashed of course, and someone made a comment about how Geno could get a green card if he married an American. He wouldn’t ever have to worry about his old team doing something to get him back if he was an American citizen. We all laughed about it at the time. It seemed ridiculous. I mean, our twenty-two year old friend who barely spoke English finding an American to marry him?

“But it stayed with me through the summer. How my best friend wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than playing hockey. The fear that had been weighing him down could just be gone -” Sidney snaps his fingers. “- like that.”

“One thing you have to understand is that Geno was one of the best friend I have ever had and I was terrified of losing him.”

Sidney scrubs his hand down over his face. “I tried to find a friend that would marry him. I figured it was only two years out of someone’s life for him to get his green card. Everyone I spoke to thought I was absolutely crazy. One of my friends finally told me that I shouldn’t ask a favor of someone that I wasn’t prepared to do myself.

“And that really got me thinking. Gay marriage was legal in Canada and dual-citizenship there was just as good for Geno as in the US. It wouldn’t have been great if it had gotten out that I’d married a guy but at least it wouldn’t have been a lie for me since I’m bi. So just before training camp started, I asked Geno to marry me.

“He thought I was nuts.” Sidney smiles at the memory, his eyes crinkling. “I mean, I definitely was, but that’s not the point. I told him everything I’d been thinking about and after a couple months of talking it out, he agreed.

“I went home for the All-Star break and applied for the marriage license. A couple of months later when we had a break in the schedule, we flew up to Nova Scotia and went to the courthouse for a civil ceremony.” He laughs sadly. “I don’t even know who the people who signed as our witnesses are.

“We were just kids, you know?” Sidney looks up at Synia, his voice wistful. “I don’t know why we thought a marriage license could stay secret but the citizenship paperwork couldn’t. The marriage was his ‘get out of jail’ free card so we never divorced. Neither of us ever found anyone we wanted to marry for real, either. And honestly, I think we both just forgot over the years.

“I didn’t put his information on the paperwork because I don’t ever think about it. I’ve never thought of myself as actually married.”

Synia clears her throat. “And now?” She asks.

Sidney looks at her, questioning.

“Where is Geno now?”

“Oh, he was injured about five years ago and decided to retire. We still talk but he doesn’t come back to Pittsburgh often."

"I see," She says, pausing to take a long, drawn out breath. She looks overwhelmed, like she didn't expect any of that story to come pouring out and like she's not quite sure she should believe it. Sidney tries to keep eye contact with her but he can feel his face making all sorts of twitching motions that he can't control. Finally, Synia unclasps her hands and shuffles a few papers around again. "Is Geno going to be a part of the adoption?"

“Uh…” is all he says, thrown off by how she jumps right back to the issue at hand.

"Is he going to stay in Russia?"

"I don't–I don't know. We haven't talked."

"In five years?"

Sidney scowls. “No. Just not often since he went back to Russia. We're still close but after twenty years we don’t have to talk every day to stay that way."

"I have some friends like that, too." Synia smiles fondly. She lifts a hand to her face and scrubs it down over her eyes.

“I have to be honest, Sid, this whole 'finding out you're actually married' thing has really thrown me for a loop."

"I'm sorry.”

"It would've been nice to know about before filing your paperwork, is all. It's not something we can't figure out a work-around for but you're going to need to head home and have a serious conversation with Geno."

Sidney nods.

"I'm not sure if this marriage is considered dissolved naturally or if, because of the duration, it's still in tact. We can change your paperwork to say that you're separated or you can apply for a divorce if that's something you're comfortable with. I can’t say if either of those will hurt your reputation as an Adoption Family but they certainly won’t help. Or." Synia pauses.

Sidney feels like his heart stops beating in the silence. She voice lowers and Sidney leans in to listen.

"It's much easier to adopt a newborn as a married couple. Most women who put their unborn child up for adoption want to know that the baby will be going to a loving home with two parents. It would up your odds, if Geno was on board with this and here to help you."

Sidney's chest starts to tingle and warmth flushes his cheeks as he registers her words. "Do you really…?" He trails off, refusing to let his hopes lift.

"Is he still your best friend?" Synia asks.

"I like to think so."

"Then talk to him first, Sidney. And we'll figure out your options from there. Okay?"

He nods, swallowing around the hope he can feel building up in his throat. "Okay." Sidney stands to shake her hand. He’s smiling when he leaves her office.

[shadowolven]

Petty (but Pettier)

A continuation of “Petty”.

This installment can be read on AO3 here! c:

Word Count: 4,378

Hagakure saw everything.

When everyone else retreated, she had stayed. Not because she wanted to—no, because she was trapped.

You see, she had just come out from the showers, the towel wrapped around her damp, invisible hair the only indication that she was there. She walked into the common area where the others were gathering as per their usual nightly routine, hoping to engage in friendly, harmless chatter and casually hang out in an effort to de-stress from a long day of classes.

The couches and seats were already occupied, and she didn’t feel like sitting on an armrest or on a girl friend’s lap, so she opted to sit beside a couch on the carpeted ground instead. This was her first mistake.

Her second mistake was pulling the towel off her head when the class fell silent under the tense atmosphere. She took the time to comb through her hair with her fingers, finding it to be an acceptable dampness, and set the wet cloth down beside her. It was shortly after when Midoriya and Bakugou began their petty argument in front of their classmates (which was entertaining, she had to admit).

The third and last mistake that spelled her doom was not getting up when everyone else started taking their leave. She didn’t get the memo that her classmates were bailing because otherwise, the night was going to be insufferable. She mistakenly thought that someone would stay, that the conflict would resolve itself in due time, but by the time the truth hit her square in the noggin, it was already too late. She took too long to leave, and now she was stuck, huddling next to the couch and praying that Midoriya and Bakugou didn’t notice that she was still in the common area with them.

But they didn’t seem to realize she was there. Probably assumed everyone had done the smart thing and left. Why else would they laugh and cuddle and kiss so casually near her?

So, Hagakure was forced to stay.

It was awkward, honestly, because she felt a little bit like a voyeur, watching a couple do couply things so close to her. Luckily, though, they didn’t progress towards anything intimate, or else she would’ve blown her cover right then and there.

Instead, all she had to do was sit stiff, observing the night like a vigilant sculpture for what felt like hours (because at some point, even the lights in the common area turned off). But, her efforts were all worth it in the end because thanks to her impeccable invisible presence, she became privy to some juicy secrets.

And to confirm everything she had been forced to witness (as if watching two of her classmates cuddle on the couch wasn’t enough proof), she stared as Midoriya and Bakugou rolled off the couch and walked, hand-in-hand, back towards their dorm rooms in the dark.

She waited a minute after they left, anxiously glancing around in the darkness to make sure they weren’t coming back for her. But the common area was as dead as it should be at this time in the evening.

She let out a loud sigh of relief, flopping onto the carpet. Then she giggled.

This was one secret she was willing to expose to the rest of her classmates, because everyone in their class deserved to know about their cute class couple.

----------

Ashido yawned and stretched. “Hagakure, what’s so important that we all had to get to class early?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Yeah,” Sero said, taking a slow, tired look around the classroom. “Everyone’s here but Bakugou and Midoriya...”

Hagakure clapped her hands together, although in the eyes of her classmates, it was more like her arm sleeves moved a little closer towards each other. “Thank you all for coming everyone! I know it’s tough getting up this early after a rough night like yesterday, but hey. The news I have to tell you guys is completely worth it!”

“Well, what is it?” Ojirou asked.

Hagakure giggled, her laughter laced with a mischievous undertone. “Well... I found out that Bakugou and Midoriya are dating!”

Everyone was silent, their only responses being a blank stare and slow blinks. Then, as if her words were like verbal shots of caffeine, their eyes widened, pupils dilating as they began to shout over one another.

“What?! They are?!” Kaminari roared.

“I called it! I told all of you months ago that Bakugou was gay!” Mineta piped up, laughing triumphantly.

“Deku likes Bakugou?” Uraraka’s hands were pressed against her temples. She looked distraught.

“That’s so manly, Bakugou!” Kirishima was holding back tears.

“Everyone, calm down! I know this is all very shocking news, but let’s go about this in a peaceful, orderly manner!” Iida shouted, his forearm moving up and down in a robotic fashion.

There were more comments, but Hagakure couldn’t pick them out. She was overwhelmed. She knew her classmates would be surprised, but this was some response if she was putting it lightly. As they kept slamming their fists on the desks, screaming at each other (or nowhere in particular), and overall acting like wild, crazy apes from a deranged zoo, Hagakure could only think that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to tell them after all. Or at least, not like this.

But just as soon as it started, everyone’s fervor was mysteriously quelled and they stared at her with determined eyes. One question remained on their facial expressions, and Satou was the one to ask it out loud, “How did you find out?”

“Well...” Hagakure rubbed the back of her head nervously as she explained the situation. Everyone listened to her with affirmative nods.

When she was done with her story, Yaoyorozu said, “I suppose we should’ve predicted this. I mean, look at all the evidence before us: their sudden amicable nature with each other, going out on what I presume to be dates—”

“Like the cake date?” Kaminari interrupted with a smile.

“—like the cake date,” Yaoyorozu sighed. “And their anxious exchange of glances before engaging in their argument the other night... It all adds up. I’m ashamed we didn’t make the connection sooner.”

“But,” Jirou said, “what do we do with this information now? Where do we go from here? Confront them?”

Some of them nodded. Kirishima, however, shook his head. “I don’t think we should, guys. I mean, Bakugou’s a close bro. I’m sure he or Midoriya would’ve told us by now if they were ready. They probably have their own reasons for staying quiet about it.”

The class fell silent. They glanced down at the ground, almost as if they were ashamed that they didn’t consider their classmates’ feelings.

“...You’re right. I’m sorry Kirishima,” Hagakure said quietly.

“Ah! I didn’t mean to say you did anything wrong, Hagakure!” Kirishima said nervously. “I mean, it’s actually really cool to hear the news! It’s just, we shouldn’t bring it up to them until they come out to us first, you know?”

“And if they don’t?” Tokoyami’s deep voice said. “Feelings hidden in the darkest of shadows may never see the light of day.”

“What if we, I don’t know, throw some hints at them that we know? Or ask about it and see if they’ll tell us?” Sero asked.

Eyes panned over at him. Then they glanced at each other and mumbled, some in agreement, others in uncertainty.

But they had little time to continue their discussion because the door of the classroom slid open with a hard shove. Katsuki stepped inside, his face looking grumpy as usual. This time, though, an annoyed look crossed his face as he eyed his huddled classmates. They were all staring at him with wide-eyes and a strange look that he didn’t like. “What are you all doing here already?” he said, throwing his bag down onto his desk.

“Oh, we’re uh, we’re just—” Kaminari started, trying to come up with a believable excuse.

“We were just discussing yesterday’s homework,” Todoroki said in his usual calm voice. “Do you want to compare answers as well?”

Katsuki squinted, scanning those heterochromatic eyes to see if there was a lie in his statement somewhere because something in his gut told him this situation was fishy. But he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. With a sigh, he said, “No, I don’t need to. It wasn’t that hard.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, gazing out the window in his usual sulking manner.

Kaminari gave a thumbs up to Todoroki, mouthing “Nice!” Todoroki simply nodded and with that, everyone began shuffling back to their desks. But their interrupted conversation wasn’t over yet, because within a few moments of settling back down into their own seats, a text was sent to their private group chat: “It’s now ‘Operation: Get Bakugou and Midoriya to Confess.’ Let’s do this, guys!”

-----------

Lunch was the best time to set their operation in motion.

At Bakugou’s table, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido were chattering as usual. But the topic, at Kaminari’s whim, twisted into a gossiping one. 

“Man, Midoriya was really nailing the questions today, huh?” Kaminari leaned on Bakugou’s shoulder, eliciting a threatening rumble and a scowl from his fellow-blonde friend.

“... He got two of them wrong,” Bakugou grumbled, rolling his shoulder out of Kaminari’s touch while taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Ah, were you keeping track then?” Ashido piped in, pointing her spoon at Bakugou.

Bakugou shot her a menacing glare, although not like it fazed his friends anyhow. “I only remembered because those were easy questions that he got wrong.”

“Oh?” Ashido hummed, spoon on her lips in a pensive manner. “Hey, this is going to sound weird, but... I have a friend in another class who was interested in asking Midoriya out. What do you think, Baku—”

“Don’t bother,” Bakugou said before scarfing down the last bits of his lunch. It was a little unsettling to watch because as he chewed and swallowed, he kept a steady, unblinking eye on his friends before slamming his hands onto the table. “You think that that mumbling nerd has time to focus on some random stranger while he’s busy studying to be a hero? Don’t make me laugh. None of us have time for that kind of crap anyway. Tell your friend to shove it, that’s my advice.”

He stood up, huffing as he picked up his lunch tray that was littered with balled up wrappers before turning around and stepping away from the table.

Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido all stared in disbelief at his retreating figure.

“Did... did he just...?” Kirishima stammered.

The rest all nodded. “He’s the possessive type, alright.”

----------

At Midoriya’s table, things were rowdy and entertaining, to say the least. Hagakure, Tsuyu, and Uraraka were engaged in a heated conversation about, well, boys.

First, it was about pro heroes, going from who was the hottest to who they would marry. Then it went to famous celebrities, then sexiest anime characters, and then somehow...

“Do you guys have any crushes in our class?” Hagakure asked with her bubbly voice.

Uraraka turned a bright shade of pink at the question. “Wha-what are you talking about, Hagakure? Crushes? In our class?” she said in a rushed manner as she tittered, her voice more high-pitched than usual.

“Yeah, you know...” Hagakure waggled her eyebrows, then realized she was invisible and they couldn’t see that, so she waggled her arms instead.

Tsuyu intervened, “I think we should move on from that discussion if we’re not comfortable discussing that in public.”

Uraraka nodded furiously. “Yep! Yep, yep, yep, that sounds like a great idea Tsu-chan! Let’s... let’s move onto something else.” Then, as a quick afterthought, she whispered, “Please.”

Hagakure crossed her arms and huffed in a pout. “Alright, fine,” she sighed. “Okay, what about... Ooh, who do you think would be a good kisser? Midoriya or Bakugou?”

Izuku choked on his food, pounding his chest as he tried to cough it out of his trachea. Iida and Todoroki were at his side, whispering if he was okay as they offered him a glass of water. Midoriya nodded furiously but also looked quite red in the face that probably wasn’t just from him choking.

“Oh, sorry about that Midoriya! I forgot you were there for a second,” Hagakure giggled in her best attempt to feign innocence, but she knew what she was doing. In fact, everyone at that table knew except Midoriya.

“N-no, it’s... it’s totally okay,” Izuku wheezed, taking a big gulp from his water cup. “I just... I wasn’t expecting to hear a question like that.”

“Ooh, were you eavesdropping?” Hagakure teased.

“No!” Izuku waved his arms frantically in front of his face. “No, well, I mean... I did happen to overhear since it was pretty loud, so... I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Hagakure hummed. “But hey, since you heard, what do you think Midoriya? Who would be the better kisser: you or Bakugou?”

Izuku’s face reddened so much that even the tips of his ears were a brilliant scarlet. “I-I... um, I can’t answer that! Now, if you’ll excuse me...” Izuku stammered as he practically leaped out of his seat like someone had suddenly lit it on fire and sped-walk straight out of the cafeteria. He didn’t even take his lunch tray full of half-eaten food with him.

The table fell silent.

“That... might have been a bit too on the nose, huh?” Uraraka said quietly.

“Perhaps we need to use more tact,” Iida added.

“Ahhh!” Hagakure groaned in frustration, flopping onto the table. “We were so close to an answer, too.”

“I’m not sure if that would’ve counted as a confession though, Hagakure,” Tsuyu said, patting Hagakure on the back lightly.

And with that, lunch ended with no discernible progress in their operation.

---------

“Kacchan, do you think they’re...” Izuku gulped, his voice barely above a whisper, “onto us?” 

Katsuki put a finger on his lips, hushing Izuku as he glanced around the locker room. He could hear some of the others talking loudly among themselves as they changed back into their normal clothes, but luckily none of them were anywhere close to the shower area. “They’ve been asking you annoying questions too, huh?” he said with a grumble, looking at Izuku.

“Yeah... and they seemed oddly specific,” Izuku mumbled, then gasped. “It was because I was being too dramatic last night, wasn’t it? Oh my god this is totally my fault; they know now because I wouldn’t shut up about the All Might cake, it wasn’t even a big deal but I made it into a big deal for no reason—”

“I said shut up,” Katsuki grasped Izuku’s shoulders and shook him as gently as he could, but his fingers were tense, his voice too strained. “There’s no way they could know. We didn’t do anything in front of any of them. They’re just acting this way because they think we need to kiss and make up or some shit like that.”

“But...” Izuku said, his words coming out warbled as he tried to hold back anxiety-ridden tears, “’just friends’ don’t kiss each other.”

“It was an expression, you idiot,” Katsuki said with a soft sigh, wiping Izuku’s cheek in a reassuring gesture. “Listen, we’re in this together. If worst comes to worst, remember the plan we came up with when we first started dating?”

“You mean...?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki pressed his forehead against Izuku’s. “Just follow my lead if that happens, okay?”

Izuku nodded, smiling. “Kacchan,” Izuku whispered, cupping Katsuki’s warm hands in his own, “thank you. For being here with me.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me,” Katsuki murmured, pulling back with reluctance. “Now hurry up and get changed, they’re going to suspect something otherwise.”

Izuku watched as Katsuki stepped out of the shower stall, his heart beating fast as he thought about a multitude of things: the possibility of having to admit they’re dating in front of all of their peers, the possibility that they would have to resort to that embarrassing plan, or most of all how sweet and caring Kacchan could be.

Sometimes he couldn’t believe they were actually dating at all, and perhaps that’s why this all seemed so hard to admit in the first place.

---------

They walked into the common area together. It wasn’t on purpose or anything, especially since they had a sneaking suspicion that their classmates were scrutinizing their every move. But, by pure coincidence, they had written similar things in their recent essay and had to wait after class to talk with Aizawa-sensei that it was just that: a coincidence.

After a lengthy discussion about the prospects of cheating and plagiarism and why it was bad, they were sent back to the dorms to revise their essays and hand it in by the end of the week. Katsuki and Izuku were mentally exhausted and walked together back to their dorm without a second thought.

It wasn’t until they stepped inside and were greeted with curious, intense gazes that they remembered the potential situation they were stuck in.

“We’re back,” Izuku said, smiling nervously at his seated classmates.

“Welcome back,” they all chimed in eerily, creepy unison. Shivers ran up Izuku’s spine.

“Uh, um, if you’ll excuse me...” Izuku took one step towards his room.

“You two are gay for each other, huh?!” Mineta shouted.

Izuku froze in his tracks. His heart stopped. Time stopped.

Everyone glared at Mineta, hushing him with a hiss or with verbal criticisms such as, “why’d you go and say that?” “Mineta, you idiot!” “Oh my god I can’t believe you said that!”

“What? All of us know and they’re not spilling the beans!” Mineta puffed out his chest as he pointed at the standing duo. “Now c’mon, fess up! I was right this whole time, wasn’t I? Huh? Huh?!”

The seated classmates groaned, some slapping their faces with their palms. But now that the question was out there, they curiously looked over at Midoriya and Bakugou, who were both standing stone-still near the entrance.

Katsuki was the first one to break out of their petrified status as he let out an exasperated sigh, stepping towards his classmates. He looked at them, face surprisingly in a neutral state. No anger, no disgust, no annoyance. Just pure, unadulterated neutrality to the point that some of them shivered with a sense of uneasiness.

“You’re absolutely right,” Katsuki said in a monotone, yanking on the sleeve of Izuku’s school uniform.

Izuku yelped as he stumbled ungracefully onto Katsuki’s chest, blushing as Katsuki wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Ka-Kacchan?” Izuku squeaked, squeezing the lapels on Katsuki’s uniform while looking up at his face with watering eyes, lips parted open just a bit.

“We can’t hide it anymore, Izukkun,” Katsuki cooed in a soft, low voice, lifting Izuku’s chin with the side of an index finger, gazing lovingly down into those glistening, emerald eyes. “So let’s just confess to everyone, right here and now, about our undying, passionate love for one another that we’ve kept secret for months now...” He leaned down, aiming to capture Izuku’s lips with his own.

But Izuku pushed Katsuki away with his outstretched palms, his face red. “N-no, Kacchan, we can’t!” Izuku cried out, turning so that Katsuki could only see his side, but his embarrassed face and nervous glances were completely visible to his gawking classmates. “Because... because if we do, then I... I don’t... don’t know if I can handle it...” Izuku’s voice tapered off as he fiddled with his lumpy red tie before flashing Katsuki a half-lidded glance. Flirtatious to Katsuki, abashed to his classmates.

Katsuki swiped his tongue over his top lip in a lascivious manner, walking quickly over towards Izuku and pinning him to the back of the couch. The couch squeaked in protest against the rough treatment of Katsuki’s shove, its occupants glancing anxiously between themselves and the back of Izuku’s frame.

“Kacchan,” Izuku hummed sweetly as he wrapped his arms lightly around Katsuki’s neck, “will you help me? To confess?”

“Of course,” Katsuki’s palms settled themselves at the small of Izuku’s back. “So don’t resist me this time.”

“I won’t, Kacchan,” Izuku said softly but still audibly, as he leaned towards Katsuki’s lips.

But they didn’t even have to kiss to elicit a response from a few of their classmates.

“I can’t watch this anymore!” Uraraka yelled as she stood up. “This is just too embarrassing, oh my god, I need to leave!”

“Y-yeah, me too!” “Same...” “I think I left the candle burning in my room...”

Izuku turned his head to watch as a little more than half of their classmates stood up and walked towards the elevators with a flustered look on their faces.

“You’re going to miss out,” Katsuki called towards them. “I thought you all wanted a confession?”

“I don’t care anymore, this is just too much!” Uraraka practically screamed back before she broke out into a run.

Katsuki suppressed a snarky laugh, shaking as he buried his face into the crook of Izuku’s neck. Izuku carded through Katsuki’s hair in an effort to distract him. When he finally relaxed, he took in a deep breath, exhaling as he lifted his head, calm once more. “And you lot?” he said, staring down their remaining classmates.

“Oh, we’re waiting alright,” Mineta said as he leaned back against the couch, arms splayed out. “C’mon, we wanna see the good stuff.”

Katsuki scowled. “Calm your tits, perv, or so help me I’ll blast your sorry ass into—”

“Kacchan,” Izuku’s voice was soft, soothing, distracting. He held Katsuki’s face between his gentle hands. “I believe we were in the middle of our confession?”

His cheeks warmed. “O-oh, right,” Katsuki whispered, pulling his head back so that he could look at Izuku’s delicate but captivating expression. “We were, uh, we...” His voice trailed off. Staring at Izuku’s beautiful face was ruining his train of thought.

“Oh, Kacchan, what am I going to do with you?” Izuku purred, pulling his face closer to his own. “And here I thought you were going to help me confess...”

As much as he wanted to retort against that last statement, his response was quickly interrupted, groaning instead when Izuku pressed his warm lips against his own.

Izuku slipped his tongue into Katsuki’s mouth, teasing him with such delicate and sensual touches that Katsuki had to grip the back of the couch to keep himself upright. He pushed his tongue back against Izuku’s, and soon they were making out with little shame right in front of their peers. Soft whimpers and other related lewd noises escaped from their mashed lips, almost echoing in the vast space of the common area.

“Oh my god, I should’ve left when everyone else left,” Hagakure whispered as she stood up, plugging up her ears. “I didn’t need to hear this!”

“... Yeah, I think we should go,” Kaminari said with an inward sigh, motioning for the remaining students to follow suit.

“Wait wait, this is going to be a hit on the Internet!” Mineta said, practically drooling at the mouth as he fumbled around for his phone in his pocket.

“You really have no shame, huh?” Kirishima pulled Mineta’s shirt collar. “C’mon, let’s get you back to your room.”

“No!” Mineta struggled, but Shouji held onto Mineta as well as they carried him towards the elevator. “You don’t get it, this would cause so many girls to recognize me! No, don’t take this away from me!...” His agonized cry faded as the elevator doors slid shut.

Izuku gently pushed against Katsuki’s chest, and Katsuki grunted in brief retaliation before he relented, their kiss-swollen lips unlocking and parting. They gazed into each other’s eyes, seemingly lost in their own world of two for a brief moment.

Izuku was the one to return them to reality as he cracked a smile. “They really left this time, huh?” he said, chuckling.

“Seems so,” Katsuki said, throwing his arms around Izuku in a warm embrace.

“Strange though, I thought we would have to resort to a little stripping, maybe even your hand up my chest before they would all leave...” Izuku sighed, sounding almost disappointed as he returned Katsuki’s affections.

Katsuki blinked, staring at him like Izuku had just grown two heads. “Deku,” he said, “did you know that you sound really kinky sometimes?”

“Mm?” Izuku looked up at him with an innocent look, but Katsuki learned the hard way not to trust that false expression. “What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted to do this plan if ‘worst comes to worst.’ Which, by the way, your acting could use some more work.”

“Excuse me?” Katsuki scrunched up his face in annoyance. “You were the one who was about to have a breakdown in the locker room earlier, for fuck’s sake! Now you think you’re in a position to give me advice?”

“Well if I didn’t have to take the lead, then maybe I wouldn’t be so—”

“So what? Petty?” Katsuki enunciated the consonants, practically spitting into the air with the sharpness of his tongue.

Izuku laughed, nuzzling into Katsuki’s tense neck. “Don’t be so mad, Kacchan, I’m just teasing,” Izuku said softly.

Katsuki let out a disgruntled rumble. “I know,” he said with a huff. “I’m also... being petty.” He rubbed Izuku’s back. “I’m learning shitty habits from you, you know that? A month ago and I wouldn’t have agreed to do this kind of thing in front of our entire class.”

Izuku grinned. “But hey, look on the bright side. We don’t have to hide our affections anymore.”

“... I guess,” Katsuki mumbled. “Still, let’s tone down the drama next time, alright? Apparently my acting sucks and you’re too into kinky shit for me to feel comfortable doing that crap in public.”

Izuku snickered. “Alright, fine. But you also have to admit that you secretly liked it, right?”

Katsuki sighed, rolling his eyes. “I hate you, Izukkun,” he said with reluctance, but his lips were curved into a small, faint smile.

Izuku blushed, and he buried himself into Katsuki’s warm chest. “I love you too, Kacchan,” he said, ever so quiet but loud enough to cause Katsuki’s heart to beat just a little bit faster.

[brittysaucefanfic]

Operation: Voltron

Part 5

Keith

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

Keith had been knee deep in his files on Blue Lion when his brother knocked on the door. Usually, when interrupted in the middle of his thought process on this infuriating case, Keith would not be happy. He would have snapped at the person, no matter if they were a King from another country, or if they were his overprotective big brother. Keith wouldn’t have held back.

But his thoughts were already so jumbled up and ready to send Keith to the loony bin, that he actually appreciated the distraction. He swirled around in his chair, which might as well have been an extra body part from how long he was sitting there. In the doorway stood his obnoxiously muscular older brother.

Don’t get him wrong, Keith adored hs brother Shiro.

When he was eleven, and was first brought home to the Shirogane household, he had met Shiro for the first time. And it was like Shiro just became God in his eyes. To this day Keith couldn’t tell you the moment he stopped hating this family he loves so dearly now, to when he was suddenly practically worshipping the ground that Shiro walked upon.

It could have been when they first locked eyes. Or it could have been when Shiro bailed him out of school to get some ice cream a week later. Maybe when Shiro left for another tour overseas. Perhaps it was long before the first meeting though. 

When the Shirogane couple he calls Mom and Dad now first came to the orphanage, Keith was their first choice. They had talked to him maybe twice, told him about Shiro, when Keith had demanded to know why he wasn’t with them.

They gave him a letter, one he still has hidden in his house somewhere. 

It was a letter from Shiro, and it said, in summary, that Shiro wanted the choice of adoption to be up to his parents and not to Shiro. There were so many kind words crammed into a single sheet of notebook paper, that Keith had immediately ran to his room in the orphanage to hide it. 

So, yeah. Keith loves Shiro dearly. But the amount of hours in his day just spent working out or cleaning, especially after getting the new arm, was ridiculous. Sure, it looks good on him, and he wasn’t exactly the size of a mountain, but still. Chill dude.

“Shiro, what’s up?” Keith asked, eyeing his brother who simply stood leaning in his doorframe. They were in his office at the FBI headquarters, which was a fancy little area, small but cozy. Nice view, not too much furniture- just Keith’s style. Shiro smiled fondly down at him, and Keith knew it was a fond smile, because only one corner of his lips lifted.

“Just came to talk. Got a minute, or am I interrupting?” Shiro asked as he stepped off the frame and stepped inside, letting the door swing gently closed. It was glass, because there was a lot of glass walls and doors in this building. 

"Please." Keith said, rubbing his sore eyes. He needed a coffee, or five. "I'm begging you to kill me right now." Shiro only gave short scoff before dragging out a chair and taking a seat.

Keith watched with lidded eyes as his brother scanned the table piled up with Keith's most infamous case. It was separated into two halves. The first half of the pile, to Keith's right, was directly involving his criminal, named Blue Lion.

It wasn't very much, maybe three folders worth of actual information and two boxes full of origami lions made out of Blue paper. Hence the name. Each lion was about the size of a softball, and they were intricately designed.

Should you line each lion up from oldest to newest, you could physically see the skill get more and more perfected. But Shiro's already seen all of that. Even the folders of information, no matter that Keith could lose his job for it.

It was the second pile that was more interesting. Keith has pulled every case file he's done since becoming an FBI agent, and he's been steadily combing through them for any similarities. Like connections to each other and connections to Blue Lion. It was just a hunch he had.

Recently, someone Keith put in prison had recognized keith right off the bat. When questioned, the man had simply said ‘Blue was right about you.’ Refused to speak at all after that, no matter how long the interrogations went, or if Keith was or wasn’t in the room. The man had said nothing, not even to taunt the interrogators, which was a very common reaction from guys like him. So after that, it got Keith wondering just how many people he’s gone after who had connections to his number one case.

"What's all this?" Shiro asked. His eyebrow was raised and a curious glint in his eye sparked. Keith's always hated that glint in his brother's eyes, because most of the time it gets Keith into unwanted situations. Like a double date with twin girls. 

Keith is gay.

"These are all the cases that I've done since I joined the FBI. I'm looking for any correlations between my old cases and the Blue Lion case." Keith said. Goodness, even he could hear how exhausted he sounded.

Shiro looked back at Keith briefly, before he did that thing he does when he's hiding something or being nonchalant to get his way. It's hard to put a name to what it is, but Keith knows it by heart.

Because he taught Shiro how to hide things and lie to their parents.

Before Keith came along, Shiro was horrible at lying and keeping secrets from his family. And at first, Shiro was perfectly fine with that. Up until the moment when Keith got away with something Shiro never would have. The look of astonishment was priceless. After that Shiro shyly asked Keith to show him how to do it.

"What if I told you," Shiro started. He had gone as far as poking at the left pile to keep up a charade in front of Keith. It was useless. One, Shiro was too obvious when you knew what to look for. Two, Keith had been both a detective and an FBI agent for a while now. Kind of part of the job description to read people. "That I made some friends who could help you out in the Blue Lion case?" Shiro said, still thumbing the edges of a stack of files. It got Keith's interest at least, and Keith leaned forward. 

He was definitely awake now.

Shiro never tried to help anymore, Keith had been too irritable to let people help him on this case. Any other case? He loved to have someone else’s opinion. Not the Blue Lion case though. Keith felt it in his bones that he had to be the one to catch this guy, no one else. Maybe it was a pride thing, or maybe it was just him desperately wanting to prove himself to his old mentor. 

Or maybe it was both. 

He never wanted help with catching the Blue Lion, but at this point Keith would take anything. It's almost been three years since he was handed down the case from his mentor and boss. Three years working on this case all alone.

Three years of chasing smoke while his suspect avoided him like a pro.

"Listening..." Keith said, trailing off. If it meant finally being able to sleep at night without obsessing over this case, he would bend his pride and accept an offering of assistance.

It had been after his fourth closed case, which was a counterfeiting ring bust that ended with a boat load of bad guys in prison, when his mentor had approached Keith about the Blue Lion. It wasn't a secret that his friend, practically a God among mortals when it comes to closing cases, had been having no progress on this one single case.

Said he was tired of the case haunting him, and that it was his greatest regret on not being able to close it himself.

He had told Keith that he was stepping out of field work, and handing Blue Lion over to Keith. Keith had dutifully taken the mantle and spent the next week combing over the three pages worth of information. Which wasn't a lot, but by the end of the week Keith knew the details of the case back to front.

After about three months of chasing geese, his mentor had given Keith a new case, putting Blue Lion on the back burner. Anyone sane in his profession would have deemed it a lost cause. But Keith was too invested.

Why?

Because his mentor, friend, and boss deserved to see the case closed by someone he trusted to take over it. Over the three years working this case, Keith has nailed down every potential lead. There were maybe three people he put in lock up who had suspected ties to the Blue Lion, but interrogation offered nothing more than sarcasm and snark. 

Either these men were extremely loyal to Blue Lion, or they were terrified of him. 

Keith was almost afraid to find out which one it was.

“You remember how I told you about the new job offer, the one I agreed to take on?” Shiro asked. He had finally stopped messing with the files to try and look casual, now leaning his side against the table from where he sat, his chin propped up on his hand.

Keith nodded but didn’t reply.

“So far we, Allura and I, have recruited two more people to be on the team.” Shiro said after he realized Keith wasn’t going to reply with his words, as per typical of Keith. 

Allura. Keith remembers her. 

A white haired bombshell with more power in her pinky finger than the past four presidents combined. Shiro introduced the two of them at lunch one day maybe a week ago. And with how those two interacted, one would think they were already married for a decade. 

The sexual tension was disgusting.

“One them specifically, is a computer genius who used to work for NASA, and also well versed in hacking and breaching high level security databases.” Shiro said. Keith pretended he didn’t hear that, but didn’t interrupt Shiro. “She’s a bit younger, but she’s good. Remember Matt? From the space launch?” Shiro asked.

Matt? Keith vaguely remembers him. They never met face to face, but they did say hello one time when Shiro was doing a video call. Matt was one of the scientists who accompanied Shiro to space, and were also taken prisoner by the same terrorist group Shiro escaped from. He nodded to Shiro’s question anyways. 

“Katie, or Pidge as she prefers, Matt’s little sister, is the NASA scientist I’m talking about.” Shiro continued. “She can be a really big asset when going after Blue Lion, look at things you might have never even thought about thinking about.”

Keith pushed his tongue into his left cheek as he thought, considering this new turn of events. Then a thought hit him that had his eyes narrowing suspiciously at his brother. “And what? You’re just gonna give her to me like some sort human pet to use as I desire regarding the case?” 

Shiro cringed, his nose scrunching and bunching the scar on his nose up as he did so. “When you say it like that it sounds like I’m pimping her out or something.” Keith quirked his lips a little at that, because that was what he was going for in the first place.

“So what do you want in return for her helping me?” Keith asked, not beating around the bush and going straight into it.

Shiro sighed as if he held the world on his shoulder, which wasn’t too far from how Shiro carried himself. He was always the first to volunteer when someone needed to unload their own burdens. He was an extremely empathetic person, feeling someone else’s pain as if it were his own. And though it wasn’t the best of things to be when in the war zone, Shiro never let it hold him back.

It was one of the many things that Keith admired about Shiro.

“I can’t just help my baby brother?” Shiro said, his voice raising a notch in a classic tell for lying. Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro, who caved in far too soon for someone who could survive a year in Zarkon’s captivity and escape.

“Okay fine. I want you to consider joining Allura’s task force with me. You know? We could bond and watch each other’s backs and all that. I think it would be fun.” Shiro finished weakly with a shrug. Keith rolled his eyes, but caved as well at Shiro’s puppy eyes.

“I’ll think about it. When do I meet this Pidge?” He asked. A new, and very unfamiliar voice sounded behind him, making Keith spin around, his hand already placed on his gun just in case.

“How about right now?” Said a short female with choppy cropped strawberry blonde hair and thick rimmed glasses. She was dressed in a pair of shorts, which barely peaked out from her lime green hoodie, zipped halfway up her body. Her brown eyes were sharp, even sharper than Allura’s were when they met. Speaking of the white haired bombshell, she appeared in his doorway behind the short female, as well as a very large man with a headband. 

“I’m Pidge, and this is my friend Hunk. We’re on the task force with your brother Shiro.” Pidge said, pushing up her glasses with a jacket covered hand. She looked kind of childish right then. “Shall we start then?”

****** 

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

[thegreatwhiteferret]

Attention

Summary: Richie chose drugs over his relationship with Stan, but can't stand the thought of him moving on. Now he will do anything to get Stan's attention back on him.

A/N: It’s a lot of feelings and smut y’all and I am sorry in advance. [NSFW, Aged up to 18, right before High School graduation. Drug use, Underage Drinking, Angst, Revenge Porn, and Feelings.]  

NSFW under cut...

Stan was pacing the floor. Watching the phone. He would pause every so often to straighten something on the coffee table, his overwhelming need to have everything organized ticking away at him even in moments like this. Richie was supposed to call. He was going to go home, check in to see how bad his parental situation was, and then call Stan. That was two and a half hours ago. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the couch and ran his hands over his face. Richie was flaking more and more as of late. Coming up with weak excuses and bailing on their plans. Stan missed him, missed the crazy chaotic boy that held his heart.

When he had waited three hours to no avail, Stan decided he was done. He trudged up the stairs and ripped off his sweater and ass accentuating pants, it was Richie’s favorite outfit, that’s why he had worn it. There was no point in being dressed up now. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above his dresser.

He had carefully groomed himself when he had gotten home from school from top to bottom. He had spent 45 minutes trying to tame the curls on top of his head, the corkscrews were resistant to product and still popped up all over the place. He had attempted to tame his lower half as well, carefully shaving, cleaning, and prepping so that he would be ready for Richie later. He was hoping that tonight they would be spending some time making his prep worthwhile. They hadn’t slept together in almost a month, Richie always coming up for some excuse as to why he had to head home. It killed Stan, he was starting to think that something was wrong with him, that he couldn’t please his boyfriend anymore. He was hoping that tonight he could break them out of the slump and get back to who they were, but now he knew that it was a wasted effort.

Stan shook the thoughts of his missing boyfriend out of his mind. He pulled a polo and some khakis on, making sure everything was straight. He marched down the stairs and grabbed his jacket, slipping his shoes on by the door, and calling a goodbye to his parents over his shoulder. He headed out into the cold, and began walking towards the Derry Arcade, where he knew he would find Bill and Mike.

He could see the lights of the arcade in the distance when he heard a loud commotion in the alley between two buildings. He knew that he should keep walking but couldn’t help himself, he looked over at the noise and saw a group of kids whooping and hollering. He froze. In the middle of the group, laughing loudly was none other than his boyfriend, Richie Tozier. Stan looked on in horror, this is what he had waited for? His boyfriend, who was living it up with these random kids? Then it took a turn for the worse, Stan looked closer, and noticed that some of the hoodlums appeared to be snorting a white powder off the hood of a beaten up car.

Stan watched as Richie stepped up to the car and took a long hit, closing his eyes in bliss, when Richie opened his eyes again they met Stan’s. He panicked.

“Shit! Stan! Stanley!” He called, rushing towards the boy, but Stan was already running. He felt Richie grab his arm, damn him and those super long legs. Richie pulled Stan around to face him and was just about to speak when Stan lifted his hand and slapped him right across his face, Richie stumbled back and grabbed his cheek.

“WHAT THE FUCK, RICHIE?” Stan wailed, “I wait at home all night for you to call so that we can hang out, and this is what you’re fucking doing?”

“I can explain, Stan...it’s not what you think, you’re overreacting.” Richie slurred, trying to calm his boyfriend down while his mind was beginning to fully swirl from the bump of cocaine he had just done.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I’m overreacting? Drugs, Rich. You’re doing drugs.” Stan scoffed, wrapping his arms around himself as the chill from the air and his boyfriend’s demeanor began reaching his bones.

“Jesus Christ, Uris. You’re so fucking uptight.” Richie responded, “So dramatic about everything. It’s just a bit of coke, it’s not a big deal.” Stan rolled his eyes, this was so like Richie, deflecting his own issues by insulting those who actually gave a fuck about him.

“If this is no big deal, why didn’t you tell me? We tell eachother everything! If you have a problem…”

“I don’t have a problem, I can stop whenever I want.” Richie cut him off. “And maybe I didn’t tell you because I knew that you would be a little bitch about this. Looks like I was right.”

“Fuck you, Richie.” Stan said, tears threatening to well up in his eyes, he willed his body to keep them in, “I’m done. Enjoy your fucking drugs and new friends, obviously they are more important than our relationship.” With than Stan turned and walked away, not even turning around to see Richie’s reaction.

*

A giggle erupted from Stan’s mouth. It was an uncharacteristic sound, so free and pure, but it was certainly a welcome change. He writhed and wiggled as fingers pressed into his rib cage. His eyes were watering from laughing so hard.

“All you have to do, Stanny, is say that DC is better than Marvel.” The owner of the fingers chided, digging them in at just the right spot for Stan to squeal again.

“Not a chance, Archie. Marvel has way better storylines and character development! Batman is just a rich guy with stupid gadgets!” He protested through his giggles. Archie sighed and relented. “You give up way too easy.” Stan laughed when he caught his breath and a tongue was stuck out at him in response.

“Good lord, why don’t you too just make out already?” Bev joked from behind the magazine that she was reading while sprawled out on overstuffed chair in the Hanlon’s den. Stan and Archie both blushed and moved away from each other slightly. Mike gave her a pointed look. “I was just joking. Lighten up, would ya?”

“S-so, are w-we carpooling to B-Ben’s party this w-w-weekend?” Bill asked, attempting to change the topic and relieve some of the awkwardness. Mike plopped down next to him on the couch and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Sure, Babe, we can take the farm truck, all of us should fit if we squeeze in.” Mike suggested, looking around for answers from the remaining members of their crew. Bev gave a thumbs up and Eddie agreed as long as he was allowed to sit in a seat with an actual seat belt.

“Is it okay if I meet you there a little bit later?” Archie whispered to Stan, “I have to spend all day Saturday working on my lap report for physics, someone has been distracting me from actually getting it done.” Stan ducked his head and blushed a little bit. He had really enjoyed getting to know Archie, it had helped pull him out from his three month long depressive episode after splitting up with Richie. He felt good, really good. His worries melted away when he was talking to the other boy, he was so easy to talk to and be himself with. He never called him over dramatic either.

“Hmm, well whoever is distracting you must be pretty awesome.” Stan winked at him and Archie rolled his eyes. “But yeah, that’s totally fine. Ben’s parties usually amp up around ten or so.”

They hung out a little longer, talking about school work and the latest gossip, before they started to break off so that they could get home before dark. Stan and Archie headed out last, leaving Bill and Mike to be the adorably disgusting boyfriends that they were. They walked down the dirt road leading back to town. Stan kicked a rock with his shoe, mind swirling in his head.

“Penny for your thoughts, Uris?” Archie asked, giving the curly haired boy a sideways glance. Stan looked back over at him, compiling his thoughts.

“I was just thinking about how grateful I am to have met you.” Stan replied, carefully gauging Archie’s reaction. They hadn’t talked extensively about their respective sexualities. Archie knew that Stan was gay, and had heard from the other Losers that he had gone through an awful break up shortly before they had met. Stan knew that Archie wasn’t so cut and dry, he had had a serious girlfriend before he had moved to Derry, but he had been flirting with Stan...unless Stan had read the signs wrong and he was just super friendly.

“I’m glad I met you too. Moving here was super hard, but knowing you has made it way easier.” Archie said sincerely, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto Stan’s hand. Stan cocked his head to the side, wondering why they had stopped and then he felt lips press to his own. He responded quickly, Both boys melted into the kiss, and Stan pushed them backwards until he had Archie pressed up against a tree.

They made out for a little longer before they actually walked home; faces flushed, stomachs jittery, and hands intertwined.

*

“H-hey, Stan. C-can I talk t-to you for a m-minute?” Bill asked as they unloaded books into their lockers and got ready for their calculus class.

“Sure, Bill, what’s up?” Stan asked, putting his textbooks back in schedule order on the shelf of his locker. There was never a situation that didn’t improve with organization.

“It’s s-shit, but I t-thought that I s-should tell you b-before someone else d-does…” Bill started, before being cut off.

“Well what do we have here? If it isn’t the Jewish cum guzzling twink of Derry?” Henry Bowers laughed and his crew chimed in.

“Look at this little faggot, he just wants to be on his knees.” Victor Criss spat, “Such a hungry little cumslut.”

“Look at those shorts, so tight, however do you hide your girly panties under there?” Belch added, “Such a little fag, I bet you want to wear bras too.”

They continue to laugh loudly and hurl homophobic insults at him as he rushed down the hallway, Bill hot on his tail. He could feel tears prickling his eyes and was grateful when Bill pulled him into a bathroom and locked the door behind them. He quickly checked to ensure they were alone before full on breaking down.

“What the Hell, Bill? What’s going on?” Stan asked, heaving out breaths and tears flowing down his cheeks.

“St-stan this is w-what I w-was trying to t-tell y-you…” Bill started, sighing before pushing on, “R-Richie has been s-saying some n-na-nasty things about y-you. About w-what you two w-would do t-together.” Stan looked at him questioningly, “S-sexually.”

“Why would he fucking do that?” Stan’s eyes were wide. He had been called homophobic things before, Hell, the whole damn Losers Club had, but never things so specific. Who knew what all Richie had revealed.

“I...I d-don’t know, S-Stan, b-b-but it gets w-worse.” How could it get worse? Stan’s thought was answered when Bill pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Stan. He unfolded the paper carefully and almost puked when he saw what had been photocopied onto it.

There in black and white on the paper was a picture of Stan, on his knees, licking Richie’s dick. He could just make out the lacey panties and stockings that he was wearing, and the mascara that had made his eyes super defined. He recognized the picture. Richie had begged him to let him take a picture of him with his brand new Polaroid camera. Stan had protested, telling him that he didn’t want something like that getting into the wrong hands, but Richie had promised and told Stan how happy it would make him, so he had relented. That was yet another huge mistake that he had made with Richie. Stan threw the paper on the ground and started heaving into the sink. When he had emptied the contents of his stomach, he turned to look at Bill.

“Where did you get this? Are they everywhere? Is there more?” He was panicked. He couldn’t believe that Richie would release this picture.

“T-they were all o-over the q-quad earlier. W-we g-grabbed as m-many as we c-could, but a w-whole bunch of k-kids had t-them.” Bill looked apologetic. “I’m s-sorry, Stan.” Stan’s heart hurt so badly, he felt so betrayed. He had trusted Richie because he had loved him with his whole heart, and Richie was trying to destroy him. He just couldn’t figure out why.

Bill agreed to skip the rest of his classes and take Stan home. He wasn’t going to be able to focus anyway, knowing how badly his friend was hurting. They had almost made it out of the school, when they saw Bev and Ben walking down the hallway. Bev rushed forward and wrapped Stan in her arms, he broke down again and sobbed into her shoulder, any hopes of keeping his dignity were gone.

“I’m so sorry, Stan. I can’t believe that he did this.” She said stroking his back. “Why don’t we go get a whole bunch of ice cream and watch movies. Would that be okay?” Stan nodded and let his friends take him home and take care of him.

*

Ben had told Stan that he didn’t have to make an appearance at his party. That everyone would understand, but Stan wasn’t letting Richie’s shit ruin his life. He was going and he was going to get blitzed out drunk and was going to have fun with his possible new boyfriend. Archie for his part had been super sweet and supportive of Stan. He swore that he hadn’t seen the pictures and had shut down anyone who had tried to spread rumors about his sweet boy.

So Stan was going to this party. He was going to drink his fruity cocktails and dance with Archie, and do whatever the fuck he wanted. He was done letting Richie Tozier control what he did. He put on his tightest pants, black jeans that Bev had bought him from a trendy shop in Portland that made his ass look fantastic, with his favorite pink lace panties underneath. He slipped a black undershirt on and then buttoned up a denim shirt. His curls actually stayed manageable for once, and he swiped a bit of mascara on. It wasn’t the style that he would usually go for, especially not in public, but he felt good.

He raced down the stairs when he heard Mike honk the horn of the trunk and jumped into the backseat with Eddie and Bev. Bev looked over his outfit and smiled at him, he pressed a kiss to her cheek in thanks, and then sat back preparing himself for the night ahead of him.

Stan was beyond tipsy. He was feeling himself. Eddie had tried switching him to water a while ago, but Stan had waited for him to turn his back and had replaced the water with vodka. He could feel the music pulsing through his body and kept thinking of the cute freckle faced redhead that would be showing up soon. He was going to show Archie a good time. Bev had laughed hysterically when he had voiced this out loud, but he didn’t even care.

Suddenly there was a loud bang as a group of grungy looking teens burst into the party. Stan scoffed, at their rudeness before sneaking a bit more alcohol into his cup. When he turned back around, he saw him. Tall and gangly, dark messy curls spilling into his eyes and thick glasses. It was Richie. The other Losers noticed his arrival as well.

“Shit, Stan. I swear I didn’t know that he was going to be here.” Ben sounded like he was panicking, like it was his fault that Richie was a piece of trash asshole. Stan knew that Ben was sincere, he wasn’t mad at him.

Stan was suddenly overcome with rage towards Richie though, so he chugged the rest of his vodka, handed his cup to Eddie and stomped his way over to Richie. Bill tried to reach out to stop him, but Stan shrugged him off and kept moving.

“Hey Trashmouth, you stupid fuckface!” Stan called out, Richie spun on his heel quickly. His face quickly turned from looking as if he had seen a ghost to a shit eating grin.

“Oh hey there, Babygirl. Got your panties in a wad, do ya?” He snarked and his druggie friends laughed with him. Stan had to mentally talk himself down from punching him in his stupid fucking face. Richie looked like shit. Looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, his cheeks had hollowed out even more, cheekbones looking razor sharp. He wore a beat up leather jacket with a grey thermal underneath, and black jeans with holes in them. His eyes were red, not like he was high, but like he had been crying. Stan shook the thought out of his head. Richie was still an asshole who had released that picture to everyone. Who just called him “Babygirl” in front of the entire fucking 12th grade.

“Shut the fuck up, Richard.” Stan screamed, the tips of his ears turning red, “You’ve been running around and throwing dirt on my name! Talking some stupid shit, Trashmouth, considering that I still know all of your secrets.” Richie’s eyes grew in size, he had dished out a ton of shit, just to get a reaction out of Stan, but hadn’t thought about what Stan could do to him in return. “It fucking ends now!” Stan stomped his foot in anger.

“Hah!” Richie gawked, “And what the fuck are you going to do about it?” Stan suddenly remembered where he was, and how many people were staring at them. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the other Losers, faces looking concerned. Bill looked like he wanted to race up and save Stan, like he always did. Stan quickly grabbed Richie’s arm and pulled him up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. He ignored the sound effects that the crowd of teenagers made as they went.

Stan threw Richie into the room and closed the door behind them. Richie sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, while Stan kept his back pressed against the door, trying to clear his head that was still swimming from the alcohol. Richie opened his mouth to undoubtedly make a smart ass comment, but Stan cut him off.

“How could you do this to me, Richie? You loved me at one point, didn’t you? Or was everything about our relationship a lie?” Stan’s anger broke to utter despair.

“Stan.” Richie breathed out before trying to compose himself, “I...I never. I lied. I was shit, but I did love you. I still love you. But you deserve better than some stupid druggie, better than someone who is broken beyond repair.”

“We are all broken, Rich, but that doesn’t mean that you hurt the people who care about you. You promised me that you would never show anyone that picture, and then posted it all over the walls. Do you know what people have been saying about me, just because of the shit you’ve been spreading?” Stan’s anger was rising again, the effects of the alcohol flowing through his body, he couldn’t bring himself to feel pity for someone who hurt him so badly. “I was finally starting to be happy. Finally getting out of bed again, without feeling like everything hurts. And you pull this bullshit.”

“That’s right. You found someone new to focus your affection on and give your body to, I heard about that.” Richie picked at the dirt under his fingernails.

“Oh my fuck.” Stan shook his head, finally understanding. “That’s why you did it. That’s what this is all about. You just can’t stand the thought of me with someone new. You want everything to be about you.” Richie stood up from the bed and moved towards Stan slowly. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking touch me, Tozier!” His words fell on deaf ears as Richie pulled him close to his body and pressed his lips. Stan tried to fight back, but he felt sparks take over his body. The familiarity and love that could only be brought on by Richie Tozier.

Richie nibbled at Stan’s bottom lip and the shorter boy gasped letting him in. Any thoughts of how wrong this was went away as Richie’s tongue slid against his, he had waited for this for so long. Had been craving Richie’s touch since long before they had broken up. Richie walked them backwards until Stan’s legs hit the edge of the mattress and the boy fell back.

Richie was on his knees in an instant, pulling on the button of Stan’s jeans and working to wiggle them down his hips. He made a choked sound when he saw the pretty lace of Stan’s panties. He ran his thumbs over the delicate material, driving Stan crazy, then placed a kiss right above the lace on his hip bone. Stan mewled in response. He continued his mission to get Stan’s pants off, but damn was it a struggle since they were so tight. Stan helped him by kicking them off the rest of the way, as Richie began working on his shirt.

Stan laid back on the bed, clad only in his panties and Richie stood back looking at him, he wanted to devour him.

“Let me blow you.” Stan whined, he wanted some contact, wanted Richie’s thick cock in him. Richie nodded, because who wouldn’t want something as beautiful as Stan Uris to pleasure them? He quickly shrugged off his jacket and shirt and unbuckled his jeans, letting them fall to the ground. Stan was on his knees, pulling Richie’s hips to the edge of the bed in no time at all. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the taller boy’s boxers and pulled them down. Richie’s cock bounced up against his stomach and it was just as beautiful as Stan had remembered.

He took the tip in his mouth and sucked like he was born to do it, pulling deep groans from Richie. He pulled off and looked Richie dead in the eye as he took him all the way in, letting the head slip into his throat. He pulled off and licked a stripe up the side. Richie was a mess, an absolute disaster as Stan kept working him with his mouth. Stan grabbed Richie’s hand and placed it in his hair, allowing Richie to control how fast and deep he went. Richie would swear up and down that Stan would be the deep throat champion of the world, he would take him all the way in, let him fuck his face, and never complained.

Richie was so close that he could feel his toes tingling, so he pulled Stan off of him. Stan whined at the loss, but Richie just pulled him into a kiss. He reached behind Stan into his panties and felt that Stan’s hole was already lubed up and prepped. He groaned, he used to love when Stan would do this. Play with himself and get himself ready, edging himself off to increase his pleasure later on. Then he would grind on Richie or talk dirty until Richie would throw him on the nearest surface, only to find that his dirty boy was already ready for him.

“Who were you planning to fuck tonight, baby? Couldn’t have been that nerdy ginger.” Stan went to protest, but Richie slipped one finger in easily and Stan moaned into his neck where he was previously sucking a love bite. He slipped one more in and scissored them slightly. He was met with some resistance, Stan’s hole was always incredibly tight, even with prep, but he kept working him open. When Stan was ready, Richie laid him on his back, and pulled his panties off, carefully to not destroy them. Richie knew how much he hated that. He pulled a small bottle of lube from the pocket of his jacket. Stan quirked his eyebrow at him, and Richie shrugged. It never hurt to be prepared. He coated his cock with the lube.

Stan pulled his legs up, thighs resting on his chest, baring his hole for Richie to devour. Richie wasted no time at all pushing in and drawing out a choked moan from the smaller boy. He gave him no time to adjust, knowing that Stan fucking loved the feeling of being stretched out on his fat cock, he pumped in and out at a murderous speed. Impaling Stan repeatedly. Stan bit his fist, trying to keep himself from crying out. He dropped his legs and wrapped them around Richie’s waist pulling him deeper and deeper.

Richie was so close, but he wasn’t finishing before Stan, he wanted to give this boy all of the pleasure. He wrapped his hand around Stan’s dick and began pumping in time with his thrusts. Stan was coming undone, inhuman sounds coming out of him in between ragged breaths. Richie flicked his wrist and Stan was done, his dick pulsed as he came all over his stomach.

“Come on Rich, cum in me baby.” Stan breathed out, egging the taller boy on, breathing through the slightly painful edge of overstimulation.

“Stan.” His eyes flew open, it wasn’t Richie who had said it. He looked towards the door and saw Archie with tears in his eyes, face crumpling.

“Archie, No!” Stan called, trying to push Richie off of him. Archie took off and Stan finally got out from under Richie, he slipped his panties on, Richie’s hot cum leaking out of his ass. He pulled on his pants and shirt as fast as possible and took off after him, leaving Richie alone in the room. He raced down the stairs and outside barely catching Archie before he got in his car. “Archie, wait, I can explain. Please listen, I’m so sorry!”

“So that’s Richie, huh?” Archie asked bitterly. “Your druggie ex who aired all of you dirty laundry. God, to think that I held you while you cried over what that prick had done.”

“Archie…” Stan was crying, standing barefoot with his shirt undone, and abused hole leaving a mess in his pants. What had he done.

“I don’t want to hear it, you filthy little cum slut. I want nothing to do with you. Go back to your boy.” With that he got into his car a drove off, leaving Stan on the front lawn of Ben’s house a sobbing mess.

Bill got to him first of course. He was Stan’s real life superhero, and held him in his arms. Eddie handed him a tissue from his fanny pack so that he could blow his nose, while Bev rubbed his back. He looked up to see Mike and Ben trying to restrain Richie from getting to him.

Richie looked...sorry? That couldn’t be it. Richie never apologized for anything when it came to Stan, even when he was lying about using drugs. Stan couldn’t even look at him. He was disgusted with himself that he had let Richie back in like that, that his kiss had melted him.

“You.” He said, pointing a finger towards Richie. “You stay the fuck away from me. You just want attention, you don’t want my heart. You just hate the thought of me with someone new, you fucking said it yourself. Well congratulations Tozier, the whole world knows how much of a pathetic cum slut I am for you!” Stan had to stop to gag, he could feel his anxiety pushing all of the alcohol up his esophagus as he heaved and vomited all of it up into the grass. “I can’t do this anymore. You made your choice. You loved the drugs more than me.” Stan was crying again, and Bill decided to intervene, the whole situation wasn’t going to end well.

Mike helped Bill load him into the truck and the other losers joined. Stan watched Richie’s figure get smaller and smaller as the truck pulled down the road. He hated himself for giving into Richie and for being unable to get over him.

*

Stan woke up with a massive hangover and his ass was throbbing. He rolled over to see Bill sleeping peacefully, he figured that the losers chose Bill’s house to stash the very drunk boy because Bill’s parents just didn’t care what their son did anymore. As Stan laid there in the quiet of the Sunday morning a thought kept plaguing him, he needed to see Richie Tozier as soon as possible. In his mind, he knew that he should be thinking of how to apologize to Archie, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

Stanley Uris only wanted Richard Tozier.

[glowrioustrash]

New Rules 2

Summary: Elena is back on the dating scene, whether she likes it or not. When she’s stuck on an awful date, she calls in the reinforcements.

Pairing: Eventual Dean Ambrose x OC

Word Count: 3500+

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: We’re back at it again! Thanks to everyone who sent messages saying they’d like to see more Dean and Elena. I have plans for 5 parts so far, so we’ll see where that gets us.

Tagging: @castielscamander / @therealfivefeetoffuckingfury

Part 1

[To: Lexa Bear] 911!

Elena texted discretely under the table, not taking her eyes off the man in front of her. She smiled and nodded at the appropriate times but was hardly listening. Dale had been going on and on all night, rarely letting her participate in the conversation or asking for her input. When she had tried to comment, he seemed put out by her interruption. Even when the waiter came over to take their order, he’d ordered her a salad without asking what she wanted. Her patience was plummeting faster than a stripper’s bra during fleet week.

At the moment, Dale was recounting his “glory years” of being an “athlete.” He started out sounding like he’d been some star basketball playing on the amateur circuit, but it eventually dissolved into the truth: he was a glorified bench warmer that only made the team because of daddy’s generous cheques made out to the athletic department.

She kept her phone in her hand, hidden in her lap, waiting anxiously for it to ring with the saving call. Alexa should be calling any minute, faking an emergency so she could leave. It was girl code.

She felt her phone buzz, signaling an incoming text instead of ringing with a call. She itched to read it, but didn’t want to draw Dale’s attention to the fact that she was texting. Another text came in, followed quickly by a third. She gave it another minute and no phone call came through. She discretely slipped her phone back into her clutch.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she really wasn’t but she smiled politely, placing her free hand over his on the table. “But I need to duck into the washroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, baby.” He answered, making Elena want to roll her eyes. Instead she nodded and got up from the table, taking her purse with her.

She leaned against the counter in the ladies’ room, trying to keep the pressure off her feet in their too-high heels. She regretted the effort she put into this outfit, only to have it wasted on this jerk. She pulled her phone out, checking the texts.

[From: Lexa Bear] Oh hell no [From: Lexa Bear] You can’t keep ducking out of every date we send you on [From: Lexa Bear] Give him a chance and don’t even try to get a hold of the other girls

Elena groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. Her friends had been setting her up on dates left and right, saying it was about time to get “back on the horse.” She wasn’t actively avoiding dating – they were on the road too much to start dating and she was focusing on her career – but the men her friends kept setting her up on blind dates with were all duds. Worse than duds.

[To: BAWSE] Sasha my love

She was partway through composing the second text, asking Sasha to give her the escape call when Sasha beat her to the punch.

[From: BAWSE] Nope

She was getting ready to try her chance with Bayley - surely sweet Bayley wouldn’t leave her hanging - when her phone buzzed again.

[From: Lexa Bear] I told you not to try we all agreed you’re seeing this date thru!!

Alexa had attached a screenshot from a group chat with the girls. Alexa, Nia, Sasha, Bayley all agreeing that they wouldn’t pull her out of this date. Elena resisted the urge to throw her phone, but just barely. What good were girlfriends if they wouldn’t bail you out of an awful date? Then again, without them she wouldn’t be going on 2 hours of listening to Dale’s athletic “career.”

She racked her brain for someone, anyone that would help her out that wouldn’t cave to Alexa’s imposed ban. She scrolled through her contacts, sighing in relief as she realized who would be willing to save her, Alexa’s wrath be damned.

[To: Ambrose] Dean [To: Ambrose] Babe [To: Ambrose] Deanie baby, sweetie pie.

She was ready to keep spamming him until he replied. She didn’t know what his plans were for the evening, so who knows how long that would take.

[To: Ambrose] Light of my life [To: Ambrose] Honey bunches of oats [To: Ambrose] Snuggle bunny [From: Ambrose] Dear god woman what??? [To: Ambrose] THANK GOD YOU ANSWERED [To: Ambrose] I need your help [From: Ambrose] Kinda hard to ignore 6 texts in a row [From: Ambrose] Whats wrong [To: Ambrose] You need to save me from this date [To: Ambrose] Wait 7 minutes and call me [From: Ambrose] Date where [To: Ambrose] Italian place on Seventh. Paul and Frankie’s [From: Ambrose] Ok [From: Ambrose] Why 7

Elena didn’t respond. She’d already been in the bathroom for quite a while and had to get back to the table. She wasn’t surprised to see Dale had ordered them each another drink. He seemed pretty set on getting her drunk, or at least tipsy. He’d been ordering her glass after glass of wine all night. Paired with the pitiful salad he’d ordered her, if she wasn’t careful the alcohol could definitely affect her more than usual.

“Sorry about that. There was a bit of a line.” She apologized, sliding back into her chair.

“You ladies certainly do travel in flocks, don’t you?” He laughed, an obnoxious fake laughter that made her think of country clubs and the stock market.

“I suppose sometimes we do.” She shrugged, thinking back to her flock that was abandoning her at this very moment.

“So, are you a chocolate kind of girl? We could split a desert.” He picked up the menu between them, looking it over. Elena was a chocolate girl, but she had no intention of splitting anything with Dale except for the cheque.

“You know I would love to, but I really shouldn’t. Gotta watch my figure to be on TV every week.”

“Yes, I remember the days of an athlete’s diet, although I’m sure our diets were drastically different. I had to intake so much protein-“ Elena stopped listening again, smiling and nodding.

Dale was even worse than Stephen, the angry blogger, who was slightly worse than Evan, the philosophy loving contrarian, who was worse than Greg, who had been wonderful but painfully gay. How Bayley had managed to set that one up, she’ll never understand.

She anxiously checked the clock on the wall. It had to have been at least 10 minutes since Dean agreed to call. What the hell was taking so long?

15 minutes and Dale was explaining the play he’d invented. Elena didn’t know much about basketball, but it didn’t sound that ground breaking.

20 minutes and he was explaining how he’d led the team to victory in the state championships – led in the sense that he’d given them a pep talk she was sure no one cared about, and refilled their water bottles.

25 minutes after texting Dean, Elena was ready to give up waiting on Dean. She was trying to come up with something she could say to get out as painlessly as possible.

A seat was pulled noisily from the table next to them, making Elena snap out of her thoughts. The chair was dragged to their table and spun backwards. Elena watched with wide eyes as Dean dropped himself into the chair, looking sorely out of place in his jeans and leather jacket.

“Dean?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“In the neighborhood.” He shrugged, reaching across the table for her glass of wine, taking a good swig of it before pulling a face.

“Can I help you?” Dale scoffed.

“Nah, I’m good.” Dean waved him off before flagging down a waiter. “Hey! Yeah, can I get some whiskey over here? Jack if you got it.” He turned back to the two at the table, setting the wine glass down with distaste. “This shit’s awful.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Dale all but squawked. Elena bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at his face.

“Dean Ambrose. Elena’s friend. You guys already eat? I could eat.” He looked around for the waiter he’d ordered the whiskey from.

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Ambrose, but this is a bit of a private affair.” Dale narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“Mr. Ambrose.” Dean snorted. “Have you ever heard anyone call me Mr. Ambrose, darlin’?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Elena grinned, finding it harder and harder to stop from laughing.

“You’re interrupting our date, Dean.” Dale pointed out, his face turning red.

“A date? Is this a date?” Dean faked dumb, pointing between the two of them. Even if Elena hadn’t asked for his help out of the date, anyone could have guessed what it was. The restaurant was dimly lit and full of couples talking quietly to each other. “Shit, that explains the jacket.” Dean reached over, flicking at Dale’s sports coat.

Elena couldn’t hold back anymore and burst out laughing at Dale’s reaction. He looked repulsed Dean had touched him.

“Elena, let’s go.” He stood, pulling out his wallet and tossing some bills on the table.

“Excuse me?” She quirked an eyebrow at his tone of voice.

“Shit man. Abort mission. Abort!” Dean stage whispered.

“Your friend is ruining our evening. I said let’s go.” He held his hand out for her and she just glared at it.

“I’m sorry, I missed the part of this evening where you became my father. You could try asking nicely.” She replied coldly.

“We were having a perfectly lovely evening before he showed up,” Dale sighed, making Elena roll her eyes. “Don’t let him ruin it. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I think I’d rather not.”

The waiter brought over Dean’s whiskey, making the trio fall silent until he had stepped away.

“Whatever.” Dale scoffed, storming out of the restaurant. Dean held his glass in Dale’s direction, saluting him before taking a drink.

“Seems like a real charmer.” He drawled.

“You wouldn’t know charm if it bit you on the ass.” Elena shot back. “You didn’t have to be such a prick.”

“Am I doing you a favor right now or not?” He rolled his eyes.

“I asked you to call me, not show up.”

“More fun this way.” He smirked. “Got a drink out of it too.”

“Well hurry up and finish so we can leave. I’m dying for a burger.” She groaned.

“Didn’t you just eat?”

“He ordered me a salad! Wouldn’t hear anything different. I saved calories all day to eat something good tonight so I’m getting my damn burger.” She ranted.

“Yes m’am.” Dean mock saluted before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“Where did you park?” Elena asked as they got outside.

“Took a cab. Figured you drove.”

“No, Dale picked me up at the hotel.” She groaned.

“Well, let’s go then.” Dean shrugged, walking down the sidewalk.

“Dean.” Elena huffed, following him at a slower pace due to her shoes. “Can’t we catch a cab back?”

“We’re not that far.”

“I don’t have a jacket.” She pointed out. The dress she was wearing was thin with spaghetti straps. It wasn’t too cold out, but the fall air held a bite to it. She could tell she would be cold by the time they made it to the hotel. Dean took off his jacket, tossing it at her. Once he was sure she’d caught it and was starting to put it on, he kept walking.

“Dean.” She whined again.

“What now?” He laughed.

“Slow down. Do you see the size of my heels?” She pouted. He stopped walking again, turning to look at her shoes. The stilettos accentuated her legs, but were making her walk at almost half her usual pace.

“Darlin’, NASA can see those things from space.” He teased.

“Rude.” She scoffed.

“Why you wear those if they’re so hard to walk in?”

“They make my ass look great.” She shrugged.

“I’ve seen you in your ring gear. You don’t need ‘em.” He grinned as she caught up to him.

“Aww, that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She joked. He rolled his eyes and started walking again, this time trying to match her pace. His patience didn’t last very long.

“That’s it! Hop on.” He turned around, taking a knee in front of her.

“What?”

“It’s gonna take us all year at this rate. Climb on.”

“My dress is gonna ride up.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re wearing my jacket then, isn’t it? Get on.”

Elena huffed but wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stood, lifting her easily and holding onto her legs. She released one arm to make sure the jacket was covering her.

“Hold on, would ya?” Dean grumbled.

“I’m sorry, would you rather my ass be hanging out for the world to see?” She shot back, wrapping her arm back around him.

“Honestly?” He teased and she swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, El.”

“Did you eat yet?” Elena asked after they’d walked for a minute.

“Nah.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I kinda owe you for saving me.”

“And carryin’ your ass.”

“And carrying my ass.” She laughed. “Wanna hang out in my room? We’ll order room service and see what shitty movies are playing?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He agreed.

“I’m gonna get the biggest burger they have.” She groaned at the thought, nearly drooling.

“Make it two, and don’t forget the fries.”

“Well duh.” She smirked.

Dean carried her all the way to her room, both of them laughing through the strange looks they were getting in the hotel lobby.

Elena opened the door, letting Dean in before kicking off her heels with a groan. She flexed her feet, leaning against the dresser for a minute.

“You act like you just walked a mile in those.” Dean teased.

“I did.” She smirked.

“Were you carryin’ me or was I carryin’ you? I did all the walking here.”

“I have no recollection of this.” She shook her head, moving to her suitcase.

“You’re such a brat. See if I help you outta a shit date again.” He threatened.

“I don’t plan on having anymore shit dates. I’m not letting the girls send me on another blind date ever again.” She huffed, pulling out sweatpants and a tank top. “I’m gonna get changed, you order the food.”

Dean mock saluted and picked up the menu next to the phone as she closed the bathroom door. He ordered them each a burger and a side of fries before kicking off his own shoes and getting comfortable on one of the beds. He flipped on the TV and started browsing through what was on.

Elena came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her face clear of make-up and hair in a messy bun. She launched herself onto the bed beside Dean.

“Food’ll be about 20 minutes.” He told her.

“Ugh, too long.” She groaned, flopping onto her side.

“You’ll survive.” He chuckled.

“You don’t know that.”

“Mmm, pretty sure I do.”

“What’s on?” She asked, sitting back up to look at the TV. He shrugged and handed her the remote. She started flipping through the channels herself.

“Beer?” Dean asked, heading to the in room minibar.

“Yes please.” She replied, not looking from the screen. Dean nodded, grabbing them each a bottle.

“Oooh!” She squealed, making Dean look to the TV. The screen was showing some old black and white movie.

“What is it?” He asked, sitting back down and handing her one of the bottles.

“The original House on Haunted Hill with Vincent Price.” She set the remote down, taking the beer instead.

“Ugh, horror movie?” He groaned.

“Oh hush. It’s so old it’s not even scary anymore. Trust me, it’s funnier now than it is scary.” She pouted exaggeratedly at him.

“Fuckin’ fine.” He huffed, getting comfortable.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the movie. She was right, this might have been scary when it was originally released but by today’s standards it was just funny. The food arrived shortly and they dug in, Elena devouring her burger while Dean went for the fries.

“This is so good.” She moaned around a mouthful of food. Dean shook his head with a grin. “Fuck salad.”

“Fuck salad.” Dean agreed, munching on the fries.

“Who even does that? Orders for someone, but not anything they actually want.” She huffed.

“He’s a tool, don’t even think about ‘im.” Dean dismissed.

“I have no idea why Sasha set me up with him.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“What’d I just say?” He scolded, throwing a fry at her.

“Hey!” She glared. “Don’t get crumbs in my bed.” She picked the fry up and ate it. Dean just threw another in response.

“You’re lucky we’re in my bed or I would absolutely retaliate.” She grumbled. “I don’t wanna wind up sleeping in food.”

“Steal the other bed.” He shrugged, throwing another fry.

“Stop!” She threw the fry back. “That’s Bayley’s bed.”

“And she’s where, exactly?”

Elena paused, thinking about it. She pulled her phone over to check on her. It was getting fairly late, late enough that Bayley was usually relaxing in their room by now. She hadn’t heard her phone go off, but there was a text waiting. It must have come through while she was changing.

“Apparently she’s giving me the room for the night in case I wanted to bring my date back.” She grimaced. “Like I’d ever bring Dale-“ A fry hit her in the face and she stopped, growling before taking the pickle she’d picked off her burger and throwing it at him.

“Hey!” Dean shouted, wiping the pickle juice and condiments off his face with his hand. “You tryin’ to blind me?”

“You started it.”

“Yeah, with harmless fries. Not a pickle, you damn animal.” He huffed.

“Aww, muffin.” She cooed sarcastically.

“Damn straight, muffin.”

She shook her head at him and handed him a napkin. They fell back into a companionable silence, watching the shitty effects of the movie. Once they were finished eating, Dean moved the dishes out to the hallway to be picked up. When he got back to the bed, Elena curled up with her head on his legs.

“Thanks for saving the night, Dean.” She smiled.

“Yeah, it was nothin’.” He shrugged.

“No really. Not just saving me from the date, but hanging out. Watching a cheesy movie with me and all that. Beats sitting in my room alone.”

“Anytime.”

They watched the movie through to the end, Frederick Loren explaining what he knew all along. Dean scoffed at the ending, looking down to find Elena half asleep in his lap.

“El, I should probably get going.”

“No, stay.” She whined sleepily, snuggling into his thigh. “Have a sleepover with me. We haven’t had one in a while.”

“A sleepover?” He questioned.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re pretty much asleep already.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So what am I s’posed to do?”

“Be warm.”

“Use a blanket.”

“Nu-uh. Not the same. You’re cuddlier.”

“I swear to god if you start tellin’ people I’m cuddly-“

“Shhh, won’t tell.” She cut him off, blindly reaching up to try to hold a finger to his lips but just ended up poking him in the face.

“Alright, alright. Jesus… Can we at least switch beds? I don’t think we found all the fries.”

Elena shook her head in response, not intending to move anytime soon. Dean sighed and carefully lifted her head, moving out from under her to stand. She huffed and pouted at the movement. He pulled back the covers on the opposite bed before picking her up.

“I coulda done that.” She huffed, curling into his chest.

“Yeah, sure you could. You were chompin’ at the bit to move.” He rolled his eyes, setting her into the bed.

“Where you going?” She asked as he moved to leave instead of getting into the bed.

“Relax, I’m just getting the light.” He told her, flipping the switch. He grabbed the remote and brought it over, setting it on the night stand next to his phone and wallet. After checking his alarm was set for his morning workout, he climbed into the bed. Elena rolled into him, snuggling into his chest as soon as he settled.

“G’night Dean.” She murmured.

“G’night El.” He answered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He didn’t know if she fell asleep immediately, but that was the last thing she said to him. He wasn’t tired yet, so he turned the TV volume low and channel surfed for a bit.

He looked down at Elena when she snuffled in her sleep. That Dale guy had been a prick and he was glad she hadn’t stayed on the date with him. She deserved better than Dale or her scumbag ex. He didn’t even understand how that guy could have left her for another woman. She was witty and could hold her own in an argument. She’d looked just as good tonight in her sweats as she had dressed up at the restaurant. Elena was caring but tough as nails when she had to be. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but damn if she didn’t deserve someone who would. Someone like-

Dean froze. He could practically feel his train of thought crash into a brick wall in a ball of fire.

Well fuck.

Part 3

[thatgirlonstage]

Could I request... BNHA (manga), Bakushima, a scenario where they've been clearly into each other for a while but Bakugou is Oblivious™ and Kirishima tries to get him to see it but in vain and so eventually Kirishima has to just... whack Bakugou over the head with it (figuratively or literally) ?

… *slides you a copy of the manga*

jk of course I’ll write that but like. Is that not also basically their canon dynamic lol.

Forgive my characterization, it’s the first time I’ve really tried to write these two. Also this got… long. Like I love it, but it’s Long. :/

Warning: SERIOUS MANGA SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP ON THE MANGA.

Kirishima might have the hardest head in all of UA – rivaled only, perhaps, by Tetsutetsu – but he didn’t think he’d ever met anyone as dense as Bakugou Katsuki.

It had really started, he supposed, that first night in the dorms. After the whole “King of the Rooms” business had wound down, and after their conversation with Tsu, Kirishima had come downstairs in the quiet, unable to sleep. Bakugou was sprawled across the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

“I thought you went to bed,” Kirishima mentioned casually.

“You were all being so fucking noisy I couldn’t sleep,” Bakugou shot back, but there was no venom in it. Kirishima leaned on his elbows on the back of the sofa, next to Bakugou.

“Satou won the room contest, but only because he gave everyone cake,” he said.

“Like I care about your stupid room contest.”

“Yeah, the room contest thing was kinda stupid, but Satou’s cake was really good.” He licked his lips at the memory.

“What kind?” Bakugou asked shortly. Kirishima glanced sideways at him. His eyes were still firmly fixed on the ceiling, and he was still sneering, but he sat waiting for the answer.

“Chiffon. Super sugary. Well, that makes sense for him I guess. It would make my teeth ache eventually, and I guess it’s not an especially manly thing to eat,” he laughed. “But I’ll save a piece for you next time.” Bakugou didn’t respond for so long that Kirishima started to stand up and leave. When he finally did speak, it was so sudden that Kirishima almost fell over.

“My dad likes baking.” Steadying himself with a hand pressed into the sofa, Kirishima turned fully toward Bakugou, unable to stop himself raising an eyebrow.

“And you like setting his bread and cakes on fire?” he asked. Bakugou’s face knitted into a snarl, finally turning to look at him.

“I don’t just set everything on fire!” he shouted. Kirishima stood, crossing his arms, meeting Bakugou’s glare with skepticism, until, abruptly and unexpectedly, it melted away, and Bakugou flopped his head back against the sofa, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “He really does make good cakes, when he gets a chance to.” Kirishima hovered for a long moment, uncertain whether he ought to leave or not. Bakugou stayed silent. The only noise was the gentle breeze from the air vent. Kirishima began to walk back towards the door.

“I’ll make sure he bakes one if you ever visit,” Bakugou said. Kirishima stopped dead, a jolt of electricity racing up his spine. Slowly, he returned to his previous position, leaning over the back of the sofa.

“I have an uncle who’s a fisherman,” he said into the quiet. “Whenever I spend the weekend at his place he has the best fish I’ve ever tasted, they’re so fresh.”

Kirishima didn’t quite recall how it happened, only that they stayed down there, talking about nothing in particular until the sun came up. He remembered he never came around the sofa to just sit down, but at some point leaned so far he slid over the top of it, his head hanging down off the cushions, his legs still hooked over the top. He stayed there until the extra blood flow to his head started making him feel dizzy and he flipped upright, sitting next to Bakugou, both their arms flung out to the side yet carefully never touching. Neither of them said a word about it the next day, or let out a peep of complaint about being tired.

Bakugou was never easy to talk to, but after that he seemed like he finally wanted to talk to Kirishima. He would be rude and abrupt, but he wouldn’t shut him away from conversations – at least, not usually. There was the night he and Midoriya came from whatever fight they’d had, both of them black and blue with bruises, Bakugou’s eyes red as if from tears. He’d shoved Kirishima bodily away when he tried to ask what happened, tiny firebursts in his palm warning of the potential for a real explosion. Kirishima stepped back and didn’t ask again, not even as the weeks went by and Bakugou still refused to say a word about what had happened.

But most of the time, there was an element of his brutal honesty that Kirishima appreciated and respected. There was intelligence and calculation behind it. He wasn’t afraid of Bakugou, which he supposed helped – Bakugou’s explosions couldn’t hurt him unless he really decided he wanted to attack, and Kirishima trusted he wouldn’t do that.

There were days and nights when Bakugou would vent his rage to Kirishima, or occasionally on Kirishima’s room – he cringed at some of the burn marks left on his desk – but more often than not those nights ended calmly. He’d been almost frightened the first time the rage had just vanished out of Bakugou and he’d dropped like a rag doll into the chair next to him, muttering “Stupid fucking Deku,” as an end to a twenty-minute rant about Midoriya. He’d been quiet for almost five whole minutes before Bakugou snapped, “Are you going to say something or should I just leave?” They’d talked for three hours before Bakugou finally left for bed.

Kirishima had been waiting for a while for Bakugou to say something. He didn’t particularly want to make the first move himself, since Bakugou usually reacted to any display of serious emotion with SHUT UP YOU FUCKER I DON’T NEED TO WASTE MY TIME HEARING ABOUT THIS SHIT. But really, it was getting a bit ridiculous. He would have settled for actions over words, since that was more Bakugou’s modus operandi anyway, but Bakugou never initiated anything physical, even if he never jerked away when Kirishima’s arm or leg “accidentally” came to rest against his own. It wasn’t until Aoyama made some jibe about Uraraka and Midoriya’s occasional awkward flirting and Bakugou responded with a completely vacant look that it even occurred to Kirishima that Bakugou might not know how he felt.

Watching his conversations a bit more closely now, Kirishima realized with a sinking feeling that he was right. Bakugou had no idea how Kirishima felt about him. He tried getting more blatant, at first. He was no flirter, and Bakugou wouldn’t have responded well in any case, but he tried to slide suggestion and innuendo into the conversation from time to time. With his quirk, some jokes were almost too easy, and, he would have thought, painfully obvious. Yet, they provoked no reaction. He tried inching closer to him, so those occasional thigh touches became a constant of their talks. No reaction. He blatantly grabbed Bakugou’s knee and squeezed it when he was upset. That earned him the briefest quizzical look and absolutely nothing more.

He had a forty-eight hour crisis where he wondered if he was going insane and had misread every single signal Bakugou had given him. Maybe Bakugou wasn’t even gay, and Kirishima was about to walk into the biggest mistake of his life. He went to Mina in panic. She watched him, staring curiously, as he paced back and forth, tearing at his spiky hair. When he was done pouring out his insecurities, she held up a finger, and returned a moment later with Tsu.

“We don’t really know what to think about Bakugou being in a relationship,” Mina giggled. “But Tsu and I agree, if he has feelings for anyone, it’s definitely you.”

“What if he doesn’t have feelings for me at all, though?” Kirishima asked. His hair hung down and loose about his face as he tugged at it nervously. “What if he’s just my friend? I’m going to fuck that up completely if I say something.”

“You have to say what you’re thinking, Kirishima,” Tsu said, her wide eyes fixed on him. “It’s Bakugou. He’s probably too scared to admit he feels anything unless you say something first.”

“Bakugou. Scared.” Kirishima said flatly. Mina burst into giggles. Tsu ribbited.

“When it comes to feelings?” Mina asked. “Bakugou is terrified of those. Scared to admit he has a ‘weakness’? Abso-lutely.” She leaned back on her hand, grinning and winking at Kirishima, waving him out of her room. “Go on, lover boy, let us know how it goes.” He’d left somewhat comforted, but nowhere near ready to actually talk to Bakugou.

Bakugou came by less once Kirishima was off at his internship, busy with his remedial classes and still nursing the humiliation of having failed the provisional license exam, while Kirishima would drop into bed exhausted each night after the double work of his internship and continuing classes. Still, the night after he faced down the man with the quirk power-up drug Bakugou turned up at his door, looking furious and complaining about the stupid people in the remedial classes – “IcyHot is such a fucking goody two-shoes, he’s insufferable” – for an hour, but eventually his yawns overpowered him and he sat on the edge of the bed, quieting down. “Congratulations on your hero debut,” he muttered. Kirishima had beamed like the sun. He sat on the bed next to him, pressing their knees together.

“Fat had to bail me out,” he said in embarrassed honesty. “I almost let him trick me and get away. I’m too trusting.”

“You would’ve gotten him,” Bakugou said. Another yawn stretched his jaw. He flopped back on the bed, eyes drifting halfway closed. “You’ll make a good hero, Red.” He yawned again. “But don’t get too comfy… Soon as I get my provisional license… I’ll outdo you all…” His eyes were closed.

“As long as you’ll still let me fight beside you,” Kirishima said. He dropped back onto the bed beside Bakugou, who grunted an acknowledgment. Kirishima let his own eyes drift closed as they stayed quiet for a moment. “Hey, Bakugou…?” he started. There was no response. Bakugou was asleep, legs still hanging off of Kirishima’s bed. Kirishima, as gently as he could, pulled Bakugou’s legs up onto the bed. Bakugou stirred but didn’t wake up, turning over and muttering in his sleep. Taking a deep breath, Kirishima crawled onto the bed beside him, trying not to spoon him. He turned onto his side so they were facing opposite directions.

“Just sharing a bed,” he whispered to himself as he reached over to turn off the light. “Nothing weird about it. Just two guys, sharing a bed, deadbeat tired…” When he woke up in the morning, Bakugou was gone. He didn’t see him for almost two days with the way the internship schedule shook out, and when he did, they both acted as if nothing had changed.

He was sleeping lightly these nights, the weight of everything he’d learned from Fat and from Midoriya and Nighteye on his mind. Bakugou came in later than usual, pausing uncertainly on the threshold at the sight of Kirishima reaching out of his bed to switch the light on.

“You were asleep,” he said flatly. Kirishima shook his head.

“Only sort of. What’s up?”

“I’ll let you sleep.” Bakugou turned to go and Kirishima sat up.

“No – hey. You can stay. I’m up now, anyway.” Bakugou hesitated, and then came back into the room, dropping into a chair and propping his feet on Kirishima’s desk. The door swung shut behind him. Kirishima pulled the blanket around his shoulders, shivering in the night air.

“No yelling tonight?” he asked, a wry smile on his face. Bakugou glared at him.

“You really won’t tell me what’s up with the internships?” Kirishima rolled his eyes.

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Why is Deku involved?” he asked bluntly. Kirishima stared.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you and two of the girls all muttering and whispering together with Aizawa-sensei. I’m not an idiot.”

“I really can’t tell you, Bakugou,” Kirishima said. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and crossed him underneath him. “You’ll get your provisional license soon, I know you’ll do fine on their individual test. So you’ll have an internship of your own soon enough.” Bakugou scowled.

“Yeah, but this isn’t just about the internship,” he said. “Something’s up with the four of you.” Kirishima shrugged.

“Okay, you caught me. I still can’t talk about it.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Bakugou said. He fiddled with a pencil on Kirishima’s desk for a moment. “I should just go to bed. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Bakugou, did you come to my room in the middle of the night just to ask me a question you already knew the answer to?”

“I tried to leave when I saw you were asleep,” he growled.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he shot back. “Goodnight.”

“Bakugou, wait.” Bakugou was standing, already making his way toward the door. Kirishima pushed off the bed, dropping the blanket from his shoulders and stepping towards him, the sudden chill of the air raising goosebumps on his skin. “Bakugou. Bakugou, stop.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Bakugou shouted, tiny flames bursting in his palms. “Just let me go to bed. It’s late.”

“And you came to talk, so talk.”

“You won’t say anything.”

“But you knew that coming in, and you came in anyway.”

“Because I was hoping you would say something!” Bakugou shouted. He swung around, an explosion bursting from his palm with enough force that it left ash on the floor. He was glaring so furiously at Kirishima that he took a step back. “Something’s going on and you won’t tell me what and it’s us, it’s UA, so that means it’s dangerous, and it’s Deku, so that means it’s stupid. So you’re out there doing something stupid and dangerous, but you won’t tell me what, so what’s the point of me staying?” His hands curled into fists. “Huh?” Kirishima stared at him.

“You don’t have to be worried about me,” he said slowly. “The internships are all with pros. We’re safe with them.” Bakugou’s face darkened.

“Were you safe when you chased that guy into an alley? You were alone, then. You got hurt. You said yourself Fat showed up in the nick of time.” Kirishima stared.

“I got nicked because I didn’t realize he could cut through my hardening, I was hardly hurt—” he started.

“We do dangerous shit. Doesn’t matter who we’re with. Even All Might—” Bakugou sucked in a breath and stopped. “The pros aren’t infallible,” he said.

“I know that, but—”

“Just shut up.” Bakugou’s face was dark, the shadows from Kirishima’s bedside lamp throwing sharp angles across it. “Go to bed, Kirishima,” he said. He turned to go. Kirishima’s arm shot out and caught his shoulder.

“We all do dangerous shit,” he said. “That’s why we’re here. We do dangerous shit so other people can be safe.”

“I said shut up,” Bakugou said, refusing to turn. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kirishima hardened his hand, trying to get enough strength to yank Bakugou around to face him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “I’m glad that you care. But you can tell me you care about my safety without getting angry at me about it.”

“I don’t care about your safety, I know you’re fine,” Bakugou said, trying to push Kirishima’s arm off his shoulder. “It’s just stupid that I can’t even know what kind of danger you’re getting yourself into. Let go of me!” He pulled away violently, shoving Kirishima backwards until he stumbled into his bed. “Just forget it, okay? Forget it.” He yanked the door open.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima shouted after him. “Bakugou, stop! Katsuki!” He paused, startled, and suddenly staggered backward as Kirishima launched himself forward and slapped him. “Katsuki, you absolute fucking idiot, will you get back in here?” Glaring at him suspiciously, Bakugou slowly walked back into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Kirishima crossed his arms. “We need to get a couple things straight, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re apparently allergic to the idea of expressing emotions other than anger. And that is going to have to change, at least with me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You came here tonight because you’re worried about me and what’s going on with the internships. Because, if I’m not completely mistaken, you care about me.” Kirishima glared at him, daring him to deny it. Bakugou stuffed his hands into his pockets, refusing to reply. “And I care about you. Holy fuck, Bakugou, I care about you more than I care about almost anyone I’ve ever met. You’re smart and you’re manly and you’re an amazing hero, when you’re not cussing out everyone within earshot. And it’s incredible. You’re incredible. And I love sitting here and talking to you and actually getting to know you. But you’re going to have to get a bit better at accepting that you, like the rest of us humans, actually are a person and you have feelings.” Bakugou still remained silent, staring intently at a spot on the wall just over Kirishima’s shoulder. “Am I completely off the mark in thinking some of those feelings are about me?”

“Yes, fine, you’re my friend and I know you can handle yourself but I don’t want to see you get hurt, especially when I don’t even know what you’re doing or where or why and I can’t save you like you saved me.” Bakugou threw up his hands. “Are you happy now, Eijiro? Is that what you wanted me to say? Are we done? Can I go to bed now?”

“Am I just your friend?” Kirishima asked, ignoring the jolt he’d felt when Bakugou had said Eijiro. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t have put money on Bakugou actually knowing his given name. Bakugou glared at him.

“What does that mean?” he demanded.

“Have I really not been obvious enough?” Kirishima groaned. He took a step forward, grabbed Bakugou’s face between his hands, and kissed him as hard as he could. When he released him, Bakugou stumbled back, his face white. He stared soundlessly at Kirishima for a long moment. Kirishima felt panic crawl up his spine. “Was that… Did I just…”

Before he could coherently form a thought, Bakugou had closed the distance between them and then some, shoving Kirishima back up against the bed, pressing their lips together ferociously, his hands tight on the back of Kirishima’s head. Kirishima melted into the kiss with relief. His hands came up to grip Bakugou’s waist, closing any gap between them as he returned the pressure on his lips with fervor until both of them had to break, gasping for air. Bakugou pressed his forehead against Kirishima’s.

“Did that answer your question?” he asked. His breathing was heavy and hot.

“I think so,” Kirishima answered faintly. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you elaborating on your answer, though.” Bakugou reached down and scooped Kirishima’s legs out from under him, practically flinging him onto the bed, and crawled up himself, his knees planted on either side of Kirishima’s hips as he leaned down to press another kiss to his lips. He moved, nipping at the corner of Kirishima’s mouth before pressing his lips against the back of his jaw, down his neck, to his collarbone. Kirishima grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back to his mouth, slipping his tongue out and running it along Bakugou’s lips. He bit at the lip playfully and Bakugou jerked in surprise.

“Watch those sharp teeth of yours,” he growled. Then he abruptly flopped down on top of Kirishima, his face sideways on the pillow next to him. The two boys shifted until they were both lying on their sides facing each other.

“So…” Kirishima said.

“So.”

“Are you going to be able to actually talk to me now? At least sometimes?” Bakugou scowled.

“I’ve always talked to you,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

“At least sometimes,” he grumbled. “But we’re clear where I stand on…” He reached up a hand in between their bodies to gesture between them. “This?”

“I think so. And we’re clear that I feel the same way?”

“Crystal,” Bakugou replied. He kissed Kirishima again, his tongue lazily sliding across the roof of his mouth. They lay quiet for a few moments. Somehow, their hands found one another and fingers interlocked. Thumbs rubbed circles and their fingers twisted and stroked quietly. Both their eyes were drifting closed when Kirishima’s phone buzzed loudly. He jumped, reaching over to grab it. His eyes widened at the screen.

Meet in three hours. Eri Mission is today.

He jumped to his feet, leaving Bakugou staring at him curiously. He stammered as he spoke. “I… I have to go. I— I’m so sorry, this is the worst time it could have… I’ll be back tomorrow night, I promise. We’ll… I’ll…”

“It’s fine,” Bakugou said, propping himself up on an elbow. “Just go. Kick some villain’s ass for me.” Kirishima nodded, and then bent down impulsively to press a last kiss to Bakugou’s lips.

“I’ll see you soon, Explosion King,” he said.

Yes, this DOES take place right before the mission where Kirishima literally shatters from a beating, because it’s me and I’m an angst queen. (Also, more practically, because I was trying to fit it into the canon timeline and that was the best spot for it lol) But hey, he’ll have someone very aggressively caring for him when he gets back home. Please picture Bakugou literally camped outside of Kirishima’s door wrapping him in more blankets whenever he tries to move and sending explosions after anyone else who gets close. Hope you enjoyed it angst and all :P

Send me prompts!

[traceyaudette]

To Hell and Back

Requested by an Anon:i was curious if you could do one where Opie has been the readers best friend and has saved her ass more then he can count because the girl is trouble. when she tries to escape the ex boyfriend who has been hunting her down and making death threats and she is hiding it from Opie till he sees her phone go off while she is in the shower. he is already hopelessly in love with her but when he sees a message from this guy threatening her he looses it. smut if possible?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse

Opie watched her sleep, she came in late last night, she had a just one bag with her. He was concerned at her sudden appearance at his door. She wouldn’t tell him anything, just that she needed a place to stay, just until she got herself straight.

He didn’t push her, he could see she was exhausted, he knew she’d just shut down. He’d just have to wait for her to come to him, she would eventually, she always did. 

That had always been her way, eventually she would open up, and tell him what was happening. He smiled thinking about their friendship, she had been trouble with a capitol T, from the start. That’s what he loved about her.

He didn’t mind because she brought excitement to hid life. He had bailed her out of more jams then he could remember. She had done the same for him, being his alibi. That’s why they were perfect for each other, as friends.

He closed his eyes realizing he was in love with his best friend, he wasn’t even sure when it happened. He heard movement, opening his eyes, he  looked over he saw her waking up.

She smiled up at him. “Morning.” 

“Good morning.” He smiled at her. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and we’ll go get breakfast.”

She moved from the bed, grabbing clean clothes from her bag, going to the bathroom. He noticed the bruises on the back of her legs, he felt anger start to rise up inside of him at the thought of someone hurting her.

The bathroom door shut, leaning against the headboard of the bed, he let out an exhale.  Her phone went off notifying there was a text message. He ignored it at first, respecting her privacy.  Then it went off three more times in a row, thinking it was some sort of an emergency he picked the phone up.

He unlocked her phone, seeing she had a text messages from a Jack. He knew she had an ex named Jack, but they had broken up weeks ago or so he thought. 

He ready the first message. Where the hell are you?

He didn’t care for the demanding tone of the first message. The second one wasn’t any better. You better answer me if you know what’s good for you!

Opie could feel his protectiveness coming out, he wanted to take a drive to Oakland and beat the living shit out of Jack for threatening (Y/N). He continued to read the messages. If you’re not back in Oakland by five today, the beating you got yesterday will feel like a love tap compared to what I’ll do to you!

He gripped the phone tighter. You better not be with that biker trash, you whore! I’m going to kill you!

Opie deleted the messages, tossing the phone on the bed. He picked up his own, calling Jax giving him a heads up. Letting him know about this asshole Jack, throwing his phone on the bed, he went into the bathroom to talk to (Y/N).

XXX

He entered the bathroom as she was wrapping a towel around her body. “Ope, what the hell!”

He looked her up and down, turning her body, so he could see it from all angles. “Who did this to you?” His voice was soft.

“It doesn't matter.” She cried, looking up at him, her eyes filled with tears.

His hands framed her face. “I love you (Y/N), I want to protect you and keep you safe.”

She closed her eyes. “Jack, my ex, that doesn’t want to be an ex....I shouldn’t have come. He’s crazy...I love you too...I need to leave before he kills you.”

Opie pulls her into his arms. “I’m not letting you leave, I’ve got you.” She nodded her head. He lowered his lips to hers kissing her.

XXX

The next week was quiet and peaceful, there was no further contact from Jack. Opie didn’t let his guard down, he made sure that a prospect was with (Y/N) when he couldn’t be.

He would rest better once that bastard was taken care of. He pulled his bike into the drive, there wasn’t another bike in the drive. He pulled his gun from the back of his pants, and entered the house.

“(Y/N)!” He walked into the living room, seeing her tied to a chair, her mouth taped. He rushed to her, she was shaking her, no tears streaming down her face. 

He reached her, as he pulled the tape off her mouth she started to say something but his world went black before she could get it all out.

XXX

He opened his eyes, he was tied to a chair facing (Y/N), he struggled trying to get up. “You’re wasting your time, you won’t get away.” A voice from behind him said.

“Jack, just let him go...I’m sorry I ran from you. Opie is my friend...”

“Shut up (Y/N)!” Jack screamed, he walked around so Opie could see him.

 “Why don’t you untie me, and we can settle this like men.” Opie sneered at him. Jack punched him in the jaw, than pointed the gun at his head. 

(Y/N) screamed. “No! Please...Jack, just take me...leave Opie alone. He has nothing to do with us.”

“You ran to him you little whore, he has everything to do with us.” Jack turned around and stormed over to (Y/N) putting the gun in her face. “You never were good at listening. You need punishing!”

Opie stood up tackling Jack to the ground, the front door busted open, and several members of the Sons came running in. Opie shoved Jack towards Happy. “Make it painful!”

Opie moved to (Y/N), cutting the ropes that held her to the chair. She fell forward into his arms. “Ope....”

He picked her up, cradling her in his arms. “I love you (Y/N)!”

“I love you too.”

THE END

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