#i feel mean saying it but like i was unphased beyond like making sure the girl didnt step on glass

[extervus]

Also I ran to the store today and dropped a half gallon of milk AND a glass jar of pasta sauce and both broke horribly and I felt bad but I felt worse that there was a little girl in crocs and she was near at the time and I like had to have her back away so she wouldn't step on and glass. Terrible experience all around but also at the end of the day? Like whatever

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 7

[chap six] | [chapter eight] | [all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Sooo, I did not mean to take a three week hiatus from this fic :) I had so much of this chapter written within a couple of days and then abruptly stopped writing entirely, literally couldn't work on any of my stories. But now the writers block has passed and we FINALLY have an update, and boy these chapters just keep getting longer as the story goes on. I hope this one makes up from my recent absence~

wc: 6.6k

Chapter Seven

Wednesday morning was supposed to start like it always did - small talk with your mom over a bowl of cereal and then running out the door before the conversation whittled down to awkwardness. You wish you could appreciate your mother’s efforts to try to connect with you, but she never asked about anything beyond school and skating - once those two subjects were exhausted, it was as if you two had nothing more to talk about.

But today was different. Today, your dad was actually sitting at the breakfast table instead of rushing to his office before you even came downstairs. Today, your head was a little fuzzy from drinking the night before. Today, you wished you had just run out the door and skipped breakfast, because you could see right away that your parents wanted to have a conversation.

You paused briefly in the kitchen entry, looking between the two before trying to act casual, walking towards the pantry and preparing a quick breakfast. You could feel their eyes following you, and damn did you wish someone would just say something. Your father always acted like this before a serious conversation - he stayed silent to intimidate you, to put you on edge in hopes that it would make you more pliable to what he had to say. You’d always assumed he did this to clients and business associates as well, as if to suggest some kind of dominance over them. Well, you weren’t going to let it get to you that easily, you never did before.

You sat at the opposite end of the table from your father, your mom hovering at the kitchen sink although there were no dishes to be cleaned. You started to eat as if you were totally unphased by their watchful eyes, as if you were entirely oblivious to their stares, although you knew neither of them bought the act for a second. One of you was going to cave eventually, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.

Sure enough, your mom spoke first as she approached the table, just like you expected her to, “You have practice after school today?”

You gave her a critical look before nodding - you knew that she knew you always skated on Wednesday, making that a pretty pathetic attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

“Are you actually going?” Your father asked in an accusatory tone, although he maintained a neutral expression so as not to give away what he was thinking.

You couldn’t help the mean look in your eyes as you met his intense gaze. Your tone was stubborn and cold, “Yes.”

“And will that boy be there?” The disdain in your father’s words was clear as day. Your brow knotted at the question, both because you didn’t like his tone and because you wondered how he found out about Eddie already.

“Boy?” Your tone was mocking - you weren’t feigning ignorance, but rather presenting your father with a challenge, daring him to elaborate on what had gotten his mood so twisted. And it was clear in his face that he didn’t appreciate your attitude one bit.

“Mrs. Redford saw you two together on Friday.” Your mother chimed in, hoping to serve as the calm mediary considering that you and your father were both intense, mean people.

Of course it was Mrs. Redford who told your mom about Eddie - she was such a damn gossip, and with her daughter participating in your skating lessons, you should have known she would have noticed you leaving with Eddie that night. She was drawn to drama and gossip as if it was the air she breathed, so it was certainly no surprise that she ran off to tell your parents about this new boy that she spotted you with.

“Why does it matter?” You dropped your spoon in the forgotten breakfast that sat in front of you, slouching into your seat in growing frustration.

“Because he’s clearly a troublemaker.” Your dad’s tone matched yours, causing you to roll your eyes, “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.”

Your jaw clenched at the threat in his voice, “How could you possibly know someone is trouble without even meeting them?”

Your father pressed his palm to the table firmly, “Because I know his type - a lazy punk only interested in skating by and disrespecting the establishment. I’m a good judge of character.”

“How?” You insisted with exasperation, causing your father to look down on you as if you were some stupid kid.

“You were out way past curfew last night - were you with him?” Your dad glowered, and evidently your expression gave him the answer he wanted, “You ran out the door without telling your mother where you were going or who you were with. She saw you climb into some van, for Christ sake. And the way Mrs. Redford described this hoodlum? The leather, the hair, the tattoos? What’s gotten into you?”

You held your ground firmly, glaring as you crossed your arms, “I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue is you’re acting out, you’re avoiding us, and this boy you’re seeing seems to be encouraging this behavior!” Your father raised his voice, “I don’t care that you’re eighteen now, you still live under my roof.”

“You don’t care about anything!” You can’t help but shout back, “You only care now because you’re worried I’ll make you look bad. You’re worried about stupid gossip!”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“We’re just worried about you,” Your mother tried to intervene in an even tone, drawing the attention of the both of you, “We don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important just because of a boy.”

You throw up your hands in defiance, your voice harsh, “What important things am I ‘losing sight of!?’”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother!” Your dad jumped back in, “The last thing you need your senior year is some punk distracting you from school, from skating. You need to consider your future. Don’t you want to get into a good school? Don’t you want to skate?”

“I don’t know what I want!” You admitted angrily, “Maybe I don’t want to go to college or skate or do the shit you tell me to! Maybe I just want to enjoy life a little.”

“Enjoying life doesn’t get you anywhere.” Your father glared, “We tell you these things to help you. So, stop hanging around this boy and start focusing on your future.”

“You didn’t care what I was doing before, why do you care now?” You challenged coldly, “You didn’t care when I was out late with Duncan, you didn’t care when I’d miss practice because I’d be out with Amelia or Janet. You only care now because it’s Eddie.”

You instantly realized you shouldn’t have mentioned his name. Not yet, at least, not in the middle of this argument. Yes, you wanted your parents to know you were “dating” some new, troublesome guy, but you didn’t want them to actually know who he was yet - you had hoped to build up a little more suspense first, a little more tension between you all. You hoped your face didn’t give away what you were thinking.

“Eddie?” Your father laughed as he said the name, “You call things off with this Eddie now, do you hear me?”

You looked between your parents’ faces - your father looked as stern and condescending as ever, and your mom looked like she was away somewhere in thought. Perhaps she was trying to pinpoint any Eddies she’d heard of before and figure out who the hell he is.

A frustrated sound leapt from your throat as you rose to your feet aggressively, the legs of your chair making a grating sound on the floor.

“Whatever,” You spun around to leave, seeing the time on the wall clock before shooting your parents a mocking look, “I’m going to be late. Great job getting me back on track.”

You knew just how rude your tone was, so you practically ran out of the kitchen to avoid your father’s wrath.

“Excuse me!?” His offended voice shouted after you. You scooped up your school bag and your car keys, running out the door without looking back.

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Just like you suspected, you were late for your first period class, receiving a reprimanding from your teacher, which only served to piss you off even more. Today just wasn’t your fucking day. So, by the time you walked into your math class a couple hours later, it was actually something of a relief to see Eddie already there; why you were actually pleased to see him was a thought you weren’t quite ready to entertain.

He grinned once he spotted you, but the way you flopped into your seat caused his face to immediately twist with curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his legs situated in the aisle between you two.

“Feeling hungover, princess?” He asked with only a small jest in his tone, as if he could tell that you weren’t in the mood right now. His eyebrows furrowed together as you glared, although you knew he wasn’t the one that deserved the cold look.

“No.” You groaned, your jaw clenched tight enough to hurt your teeth. You sighed through your nose, trying to collect yourself - it was stupid to let this frustration eat at you, although you were always prone to holding onto grudges.

Eddie nudged your knee softly, so you met his eyes again. He stared at you patiently and inquisitively, “So, what’s wrong?”

You considered for a moment whether or not you wanted to tell him. With a sigh, you sat up in your seat, turning so that you mirrored Eddie, legs in the aisle and knees brushing his. You let your knees rest there, allowing the small amount of contact as if you needed it to ground you, as if you even enjoyed it.

“It’s my parents.” You start, looking down at where your knees met his. Your skirt was short and his jeans were ripped, so you were skin-to-skin. It didn’t matter, of course, you were simply trying to find something else to focus on, “They aren’t thrilled about you.”

“Oh, so you told them?” Eddie gave you a small grin, hoping to lighten your mood a little. And you wouldn’t admit it, but it was already beginning to work.

“One of my neighbors saw us together.” The bell rang in the middle of your sentence, but neither of you faced forward, eyes staying locked on one another.

“You seem pretty worked up about it.” His quiet tone had a hint of question to it, clearly wondering what exactly happened with your parents. Your teacher began going down the attendance sheet and the focus of today’s lesson.

“My dad’s a dick.” You responded in a whisper, “Just grilling me about shit - about you - as if I were a damn criminal or something.”

The sound of your name on your teacher’s lips drew your attention, and you harshly met her stare, “Would you two like to join the class now?”

You rolled your eyes as Eddie smiled lazily, the both of you turning to face forward. He reached out to give your knee one more playful nudge, as if to assure you that all would be well.

As the teacher began her lesson, you and Eddie kept stealing glances at one another conspiratorially, which helped to slowly ease the tension in your shoulders, to slowly relax your mood. After another couple of minutes, Eddie held a folded piece of paper between the two of you, obviously intending for you to read it. You slyly took it from him, fingers brushing against his as you wondered what he possibly had to say right now.

I think I can win him over.

The silly little doodle accompanying the note emphasized the joke, and you couldn’t help but grin at it just a little. You side-eyed Eddie, catching the way he smiled mischievously at you. With a roll of your eyes, you scribbled down a reply and handed it to him.

All the charm in the world wouldn’t win him over.

You watched Eddie’s face out of the corner of your eye, awaiting his reply with a hint of eagerness. The note was back in your hand once again.

So you admit I’m charming?

A small huff of a laugh escaped you as you rolled your eyes, beginning to write a response. But a presence walking down the aisle drew your attention, noticing your teacher was walking right to you. Your stomach dropped a little, realizing you were caught, but you simply looked up at her as if you did nothing wrong.

“Is there something you two would like to share with everyone?” She asked accusatory, crossing her arms in reprimand. You held her eyes with a challenging stare - god, this day just kept giving you hit after hit.

“Nothing in particular.” You retorted, hearing someone in the room make a nonplussed sound. Your teacher glowered at your attitude.

“Then I suggest you follow along or take this little conversation to detention.”

You gave her a mean, mocking smile, baring your teeth almost as if it was a threat, “I’ll take the detention, please.”

Again, more surprised sounds from the teacher and from students. You dared to look over at Eddie, who looked both taken aback and impressed at how difficult you were being today.

“Excuse me?” Your teacher challenged you.

Your eyes were dark as you stood your ground, “Detention. Please.”

The teacher looked between both you and Eddie with a huff, but a moment later a decisive look crossed her features, which put you on edge.

“Fine, if that’s how you want it to be. You can go to detention. Mr. Munson will stay here.” You gaped, your eyes glaring at the back of her head as she turned to walk back towards her desk, “No point in sending the both of you, right?”

You hated the fact that even your teacher was now mocking you, resented the fact that this day just kept piling more shit on your shoulders. You shared a look with Eddie, who looked sorry for landing you in trouble; you thought that you should’ve been upset at him for it, but you weren’t. It seemed like Eddie was the only person not getting on your last nerve today.

You rose to your feet as your teacher walked back towards you, a slip of paper in her hand outstretched to you. Haphazardly, you threw all your belongings in your bag before aggressively snatching the note from your teacher.

“You give that to the detention attendant, I don’t want to hear that you ran out on it.” She instructed with that hint of satisfaction in her tone. You glowered back at her.

“Bite me.” You spun on your heels as various students made, yet again, sounds of excitement at the harsh tone and words you threw at the teacher. As she started spewing some kind of reprimand that you weren’t listening to, you marched out of the room.

What a fucking day. You stomped down the hall, steam practically coming from your ears with how pissed off you were. In annoyance, you balled up the detention slip and tossed it at the nearest trash can, although you missed, which irritated you even more.

You’d never gotten detention before. Under different circumstances, you probably would have been thrilled to be sent to detention, to finally be enough trouble for a teacher to send you off. But after the morning you’ve been having, all you could feel was frustration.

Less than a minute after you stomped out of math class, you heard a door swing open and hit a wall somewhere behind you, prompting you to turn towards the noise. And once you saw who it was, you couldn’t help but smile with a surprising sense of glee.

Eddie Munson, your knight in shining armor.

He dashed down the hall to catch up with you, smiling just as widely as you were as he practically skidded to a halt in front of you. A small laugh escaped you as he hunched over in an attempt to catch his breath. He looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” He instructed simply, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall with him. You allowed yourself to be led through the school, your smile settling into a simple, pleased smirk, relieved to have Eddie’s company.

“And where are we off to?” You asked, receiving a shrug from Eddie. Once you two had turned into a new hallway, he slowed so you could walk side-by-side, experimentally sliding his hand into yours. Once again, you still felt hesitant at more intimate contact such as this, but you allowed it without cringing too hard.

“Anywhere but here, you troublemaker.” He teased with a content smile, guiding you towards the school exit.

“So, we’re skipping?” You inquired, and you had to admit the idea really appealed to you right now - you’d had enough of today, and if you didn’t escape you thought you might explode with utter frustration.

“If that’s alright with you, princess.” Eddie gave you a silly expression while bumping your shoulder.

“Please get me the hell out of here.”

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The most time you’d ever spent in a video arcade was for one pathetic round of Galaga while on a date with a boy your freshman year. Following that, you decided arcades weren’t for you - they were always crowded with a bunch of kids running around and shouting, and you’d branded all the adults that spent time at arcades as total losers. What could possibly be so appealing about games designed for children?

So, when Eddie pulled up in front of the Palace Arcade, you gave him a critical look, which he chose to ignore entirely as he stepped out of the van. He rounded to your side and opened the door, offering you a hand like a royal stepping out of a coach. You looked between his hand and his face for a moment, still judging the choice to come to an arcade. Reading the look on your face all too well, Eddie pulled his own affronted expression.

“What, too good for arcade games?” He put on an over-the-top, almost Shakespearean tone while placing a melodramatic hand to his chest, “But I’ve brought you to the Palace, the finest establishment in town for the ice princess.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh at him, unwilling to admit that even Eddie’s dumbest jokes were starting to win you over. Nonetheless, you took his outstretched hand with a large sigh, stepping out of the van despite your lack of interest in this place. Eddie, of course, smiled triumphantly, closing the door behind you and leading you into the arcade.

Given that it was only about noon, the place was virtually dead, which was quite the relief - no need to worry about loud, annoying kids getting in the way. Aside from the two of you and the Palace employee, there was a group of three college-aged boys clustered around Frogger and a lone man focused on something called Paperboy. None of the patrons looked up when you and Eddie entered, and the only reason the employee took any note of you is because it was simply his job. Of course, once he spotted you, he did a double-take.

The employee’s jaw hung slack as if in disbelief, and he nervously greeted you two, trying to keep his attention on Eddie. It appeared that the two were familiar with one another, and you wondered if Eddie really spent that much time here or if maybe this was a guy that used to go to school with the two of you. Either way, their interaction wrapped up quickly, and Eddie dragged you to the change machine.

As Eddie inserted a few bills, you looked around at the other arcade patrons, who finally seemed to take notice of you. In the group near Frogger, one of the boys nudged his friends, insisting they both look up; none so subtly, they all looked at you as the music from their arcade cabinet seemed to signal game over. You looked back with a raised brow and cold eyes, causing them all to quickly look away, although you were certain you’d probably catch them spying again. As you gazed back at Eddie, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips - there was something about being the only chick in the arcade that amused you, something about being totally out of place and totally out of Eddie’s league.

Eddie stashed the change in his pocket, holding out a few quarters that you tentatively took from his hand.

“What first, princess?” You looked at him with a judgmental expression, causing him to narrow his eyes critically, “Come on, this’ll be fun.”

“Sure…” You looked around and assessed the arcade, pointing at the nearest cabinet without any consideration, “That one.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh at your choice while shaking his head, knowing you didn’t care one bit what game you started with, “Dig Dug, huh?”

You made another face at him, so he simply rolled his eyes and led you towards the game. He leaned against the cabinet while crossing his arms, giving you an expectant look; in turn, your brow scrunched.

Eddie shrugged, “Well, go for it - this one was your idea.”

“I don’t want to.” You responded as if affronted by the suggestion, “You play.”

Eddie once again rolled his eyes with an exacerbated grin, “I don’t play Dig Dug.”

“Then play something else.” You instructed stubbornly.

“You aren’t getting out of this one.” Eddie countered, motioning towards the cabinet he still rested against, “So, be a big girl and play the game.”

You gaped at his response, feeling a slight stir at his word choice. There was a challenging glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t going to back down easily, that he could volley with you all damn day. As you closed your mouth with a small purse to your lips, you looked around the arcade with a raised brow.

“I don’t want to play that one.” You crossed your arms, to which Eddie once more smirked at your stubborn determination.

“Then choose a different one.” He responded while mimicking your body language.

You narrowed your eyes at him before your gaze studied the rows of arcade cabinets, recognizing none of the names. This was something you were grossly uneducated on, arcades making just about as much sense to you as a foreign language. It wasn’t until you finally recognized the name of one that you allowed yourself to meet Eddie’s stare again.

“Okay. That one.” You once again pointed past his shoulder, so Eddie twisted around to see which cabinet finally caught your interest. A faint laugh escaped him as he looked back to you with an amused expression across his face.

“Oh, you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong.” His tone seemed to be daring you to argue, to prove him wrong. You pulled another face at him.

“I don’t like any of these. But I’ve seen that stupid monkey before.” Eddie shrugged in acceptance of your response as he continued to grin, pushing off the Dig Dug cabinet.

“If you insist.” He taunted while turning to walk towards Donkey Kong, you following behind him with a huff. But as you were nearly there, the gang of college kids beat you to it, causing both you and Eddie to halt; he began to turn to you, prepared to ask what the new plan was now that the one cabinet you showed interest in was taken.

Of course, you weren’t about to have that. Sure, you didn’t care an ounce about these video games and you had zero interest in actually playing, but you’d already had enough today, and you’d be damned if you let these guys play Donkey Kong instead of you. So, you brushed past Eddie with a determined look, marching up to them with all the authority in the world.

“Excuse you,” You started rudely, drawing all their eyes in your direction. None of the three really looked like the nerdy type, so none of them backed down from you the way that you were used to, “I’m playing that one.”

They shared a laugh, clearly amused by your attempt to intimidate them. One of the boys countered, “You’re outta luck, we were here first.”

You insisted more firmly, “Just move.”

One of them looked between you and Eddie, provoked by your attitude, “There’s a whole arcade, go find something else to play.”

They returned to the arcade cabinet as if you weren’t even there, which pissed you off even more. You groaned loudly, looking at Eddie and pointing harshly at the boys as if there was something he could possibly do about them. He simply shook his head and grabbed your elbow, lightly tugging you along.

“They beat us to it.” He said as if there was some unspoken arcade rule that you weren’t familiar with. You glared at the boys as Eddie led you down the row, grinning as if to calm you down, “Come on, I got something I think you’ll like.”

“Doubtful.” You countered like a child, catching the way Eddie smiled to himself, both amused and enervated by your attitude. The two of you came to a halt in front of something called Tapper, and you glanced up at Eddie, awaiting an explanation.

“This one’s easy,” he started while presenting the cabinet to you, “Just serve drinks.”

“Okay…” You took in the pixelated graphics on the screen, hesitantly holding up a coin as you considered the game.

“Come on, just give it a try.” Eddie urged. You looked at the simple instructions next to the joystick while finally loading the coin into the machine. As the game began, Eddie turned his attention to the next cabinet over.

Eddie was right about this game being easy, at least for the first few rounds, although once you reached the first “game over” screen you groaned with frustration. That didn’t stop you from inserting another coin and trying again, much to Eddie’s amusement. You were getting the hang of this and, although you weren’t ready to admit it, you were coming to even enjoy Tapper.

Eventually, you ran out of coins, so you returned your attention to Eddie, who had been caught up in his own game. You watched him for a few moments before realizing the college boys were no longer at the Donkey Kong cabinet. Although you shouldn’t have cared so much, you nonetheless felt a sudden eagerness to run over and hog the game you previously missed out on. Hell, you didn’t even know what that game was about, but considering your previous snub, you now simply had to play this damn game.

So, you turned your gaze back to Eddie, who was incredibly focused on the shooting game he was in the middle of, “Donkey Kong is open.”

“So, go play.” He responded with a far off tone, clearly caught up in what he was doing.

“I don’t have any coins.”

In an almost silly motion, Eddie nudged his hip in your direction, “I have some in my pocket.”

You looked down towards his hips, wondering why he didn’t simply pull his hand from the game for a moment to give you a few coins.

Impatiently, his eyes flicked over to you for only a moment; he could tell what you were thinking, “Just reach in and grab a few.”

“Uh, no.” Your voice oozed with attitude.

“Then no Donkey Kong.” He replied with a simple shrug. With a slight glare, you looked between his face and the screen, watching his hectic game for a few long moments. Your gaze drifted back towards Donkey Kong with a mild longing, but you quickly righted yourself - you did not care that much about a stupid arcade game. You could wait until Eddie was done, you didn’t need to play it that bad.

The sound of the front door opening drew your attention as a new man entered the arcade, and your first thought was “shit, is he going to play Donkey Kong?” Why the hell did you care so much? But you couldn’t risk missing out on the game again, so you returned your attention back to Eddie, taking him by total surprise as you reached into his pocket and extracted a handful of coins quickly before you could think about how intimate that action was.

“Jesus, warn a guy before you go digging around in his pants.” Eddie chided with a playful grin, not allowing his gaze to stray from the shooter in front of him.

“Shut up.” You countered while marching towards Donkey Kong, determination etched across your face as you relished in the stupid victory of finally being about to play this damn game.

Of course, you very quickly learned why Eddie had told you before that you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong. Your dumb little man in overalls lost all his lives within the first minute of you playing, and you let out an exasperated sigh as you slapped your hand down on the control panel. With a glare, you loaded another coin in, but due to your frustration you died even quicker than you had the first time, letting out another upset sound before you marched away from Donkey Kong as if the game had personally offended you.

Eddie was still focused on Robotron as you returned to his side with a huff, the sound causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. You glared at his face, “That game is stupid.”

“I told you.” He answered simply, amused by how easily you gave up on it.

“Why doesn’t it work?”

“Have you considered that you’re just bad at it?” Eddie’s eyes briefly look at you, that annoying grin of his not faltering for a moment. Your glare darkened as you turned to walk off, but Eddie’s voice stopped you from going anywhere, “Oh, come on, just wait. I’ll show you how to play the stupid monkey game.”

So, you waited impatiently for Eddie’s game to end, your eyes repeatedly drifting over to Donkey Kong as if in fear that someone else would take the machine from you. Once he was finally done with Robotron, Eddie gave you a teasing look, knowing that you were eager to return to the game that you supposedly didn’t like. With an adamant look, you spun around and marched back towards the machine, knowing that he was following right behind you.

“Just watch, I’ll play the first level for you.” Eddie instructed while loading in the money. He craned his neck back and forth, shaking out his arm as if he were warming up for some epic fight; you nearly smiled, but kept it to yourself. You leaned over Eddie’s shoulder a little as he began, “You have to be fast - this machine has a bit of a lag, so you need to think ahead.”

So, you watched Eddie play, annoyed at just how easy he made it look; evidently, he had a fair amount of practice. And with the first level completed in what appeared to be record time, Eddie stepped back, yanking you quickly in front of the screen to take over the controls. Just as quickly as the level started, though, you lost a life, jumping right into the line of a pixelated enemy. A frustrated noise left you, causing Eddie to laugh from behind you.

“You’ve got two more lives,” He stepped up closer to you, reaching around to put his hand over the jump button, “Lemme help.”

Working together, you managed to make a little bit of progress, but you all too quickly lost again, shoving the joystick in the wrong direction. As you huffed in annoyance once more, Eddie placed his free hand on the small of your back as if to remind you to calm down, the touch nearly causing you to jump from its gentleness.

“Okay, new plan.” Eddie stepped behind you, close enough that your back bumped against his chest. Your shoulders stiffened as he settled his hands on top of yours, your heart skipping as you realized you were pinned between him and the stupid Donkey Kong machine. Thank god he was behind you, because otherwise he would’ve seen the way your cheeks went red, the way your eyes widened with surprise.

You could feel Eddie’s breath against your ear, practically causing you to shudder, “Alright, let’s do this.”

As the level started again, you were grateful that Eddie was taking the reins, controlling your hands with his own, because your brain was way too jumbled to think clearly. Why the hell were you so nervous? How was Eddie Munson doing this to you? You were certain it had more to do with your disdain for people touching you, but you were far too confused to even begin to entertain why you felt so anxious with Eddie practically flush against your back.

You were so zoned out that you hadn’t even realized that the level was complete until Eddie stepped back, a victorious little laugh escaping him. Before you had time to even get your head on straight, the third level began, but you all too quickly fumbled, your game coming to a pathetic end. Composing yourself, you meet Eddie’s eyes with total coolness, hoping that the redness of your cheeks had gone away. His expression didn’t seem to indicate that he noticed anything off about you, so you took a deep breath.

“Help me again.” You instructed as you fished a coin from your pocket. Eddie looked mildly surprised by the instruction, as if he too was just realizing how intimate his assistance was the first time. You simply raised a brow at him while loading the machine with money, straightening your shoulders as he came up behind you once again.

You tried to focus on the game this time as Eddie placed his hands on top of yours again, doing your best to ignore how warm he was behind you, the way his cheek brushed against the crown of your head, how his grip on your hands seemed to be a little bit more firm. You took a couple of deep breaths and focused, approaching this the same way you did skating - with attentiveness to the goal. And your goal was to ignore Eddie and actually beat a level of this god damn monkey game.

So, you watched your little man run and jump across the screen studying the timing as Eddie moved your hands with his own, noting the subtle delay between the control command and the character movement on the screen. Even as you began to understand, you still recognized that it wasn’t going to be easy for you to beat as a total novice to gaming. As the first level came to an end, Eddie began to step back, his hands hovering just over yours, but you turned your head quickly, practically bumping foreheads as he stopped pulling away.

“Wait, one more round.” You instructed, his face so close to yours that you practically went cross-eyed trying to meet his gaze. You saw Eddie’s jaw clench slightly before you faced forward again, his hands settling on top of yours once way.

By the time you two completed the second level, you were grinning triumphantly, satisfied that you were winning, even if only because Eddie was helping you. As the screen went black for a brief moment, you glanced at the content expression of Eddie behind you, feeling his chin move against your head as he, too, smiled largely.

Instead of pulling away, Eddie asked simply, “One more?”

You hummed in agreement as the third level started, once more studying Eddie’s timing as he breezed through the game as if he’d played it a hundred times. For all you knew, he probably had. Just like with his guitar, Eddie’s hands moved with expertise, guiding yours with ease as you two once again completed the course on screen. This time, you let Eddie step back, feeling a little nervous as you realized you had to face Donkey Kong alone again. You also felt a very mild wave of disappointment, but you quickly shoved that aside so you could focus on your game.

But, of course, you struggled without Eddie’s assistance, fumbling the jump time and losing a life. You took a deep breath through your nose as you tried to focus, feeling Eddie’s gaze burning into you as the level started over. You tried to ignore the intensity of his stare as you started again, running through the level as fast as you could. You managed to get much farther than before, but you nonetheless made another mistake.

You looked towards Eddie, prepared to ask him for help, but he shut you down before you got a word out, “Oh no, you wanted to play this, remember? I can’t keep playing for you.”

You pouted only for a moment, returning your attention to the screen, trying and failing once more to beat the game. You threw your head back with an annoyed groan, stepping away from Donkey Kong while crossing your arms.

“I don’t see why people play this stupid game, it’s impossible.” You whined, causing Eddie to laugh while rolling his eyes.

“That’s the point - it’s challenging. You can’t be a winner all the time.” He teased while dipping his head down closer to yours, seeing right through your frustrations. To Eddie, it was obvious that you weren’t used to losing, and he loved how worked up you were getting over an arcade game of all things.

“If I’m not going to win, then I don’t want to play.” You countered childishly, your eyebrow raised as if daring him to comment on that. You spun on your heel and began to walk away from the offensive game cabinet, hearing Eddie following behind you.

“That’s part of the fun, ya know.” He started. You half expected him to sling his arm over your shoulders as he normally did, but this time he refrained, as if all that contact during Donkey Kong was just a little too much for one day. You threw him a look.

“Well, it’s not fun for me.” You weren’t sure where the hell you were walking off to considering that there wasn’t anywhere in the Palace to hide, but you were too caught up in simply being stubborn. Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes with a hint of fondness as he lightly snagged your arm and stopped you. You met eyes, Eddie grinning at your attitude that he was quickly becoming accustomed to.

“You say that now, but I guarantee you’ll be asking me to bring you back.” He teased, receiving a small glare from you in response. He shook his head a little, “Let’s go, your pouting is making this no fun.”

You could tell Eddie was just taunting you, so you gave his shoulder a small shove while pulling away from his hold. You wouldn’t dare admit that you actually had some fun, so instead you began for the exit, your tone nonchalant as you responded, “Thank god, if I stay here any longer the nerds might try to convert me.”

Behind you, Eddie shook his head fondly as he followed you out.

.

.

additional a/n: shoutout to Tapper for being my favorite arcade game

taglist: @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson

@em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @miaajaade

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[moongumi]

⁀➷ ∵  ❝ just a human ❞

⟶ neteyam x fem!human!reader

⟶ he should've never fallen for a human

⟶ cw. rough drabble ⭒ headcanons ⭒ jealousy ⭒ angsty ⭒ aged up ⭒ BREAKUP ⭒ interspecies relationship ⭒ alien x human ⭒ established situation-ship

⟶ note. i've never tried to write something like this before, but i was feelin angsty. lmk what you think, i dont really know what style this is but i guess its a drabble/hc kinda thing?? it's fun! not edited or anything really

⭒ it wasn't obvious when things started to change, but slowly it became more and more noticeable the way you were being treated.

⭒ he'd leave early in the day before you'd even wake up, when he'd come back he'd say that he was in a rush and didn't think.

"i didn't mean to okay?" he said, bluntly. he moves past you rather quickly. "you wouldn't have been up yet, anyway."

your eyebrows are stitched together, feeling that odd feeling inside your chest as if something was wrong. it felt like a bad time to press matters, even if it hurts to keep those feelings in.

"you could've still asked, i would've gone with you."

neteyam sighs, putting away his bow. his eyes can't meet yours, darting anywhere but at them. "yea, i know."

⭒ you can't pinpoint the reason for his coldness. inside the lab, everyone could feel it. you weren't good at hiding your feelings but neither was he.

⭒ kiri likes to visit her mom, bring lo'ak and neteyam who's body stiffens the seconds he sees you. it wasn't just him though, they all seemed to be acting differently. only kiri remained truly nice to you.

"hey!" kiri waves her hand at you as if there wasn't a huge chill in the room from the tension.

you smiled at her from your desk, continuing with your daily reports without uttering a word.

⭒ neteyam can't keep his feelings off his face, it was obvious. his coldness was within reason, it was out of his control even if he hates it.

⭒ it hurts him to see you that way. alone most of the day, no one really your age since you were closer in range with them. most were far beyond adulthood and nothing much to really talk to about.

⭒ you were the closest to kiri, and well kiri couldn't help it but talk to you. he notices the way you've been avoiding her now, because of him.

⭒ it wasn't until the day that neteyam noticed you weren't in the lab, that his heart leaps and feels that surging feeling of impending doom.

"she went out in the morning," one of the lab guys said. neteyam rushes to your desk, the same one you've always sat at and looks through piles of sticky notes and journals. his large hands practically destroying everything in it's path.

a gasp from behind him was heard, "what are you doing neteyam, she's going to be so pissed you decided to ruin her stuff."

kiri didn't seem to feel that awful gut feeling he felt. he turns to her with a frantic look on his face, finally looking over at the monitor to find a sticky note with your small handwriting, 'out for the day, i think it's hunting season but don't worry, i'll be back later.'

"she's not stupid," kiri said, following her brother as he gathers his weapons and ionar. he was on a mission, his lips are in the tight line.

neteyam shakes his head, going towards the edge of the cliffs where his ikran rests, "i know, but right now she's really stupid–she knows it's hunting season why would she go?"

"i'm sure she's fine."

⭒ you were indeed fine. but neteyam was not.

⭒ neteyam rushes off his ikran with a mission. angry rushes through his bones as he pushes himself through the vegetation to spot you with a boy, a na'vi boy.

"what are you doing?"

you seemed unphased by him. not even bothering to reply. this seemed to make his blood boil by the second. the na'vi boy looks awkwardly been the two of you.

"and what are you doing here?"

the na'vi boy stutters, unable to say a word to the first born son of the clan leader.

your voice was flat, lacking emotion, "he gave me a ride." you get up off the ground, hands filled with bags of random plants and rocks.

⭒ he's never been so annoyed. he didn't think he'd get jealous easily, he thought things like this wouldn't bother him.

⭒ lo'ak always bothered him, pointing out his mood which doesn't make it any better.

"just talk to her man, she'll hate you forever if you don't."

⭒ he did. he talked to you, he stood there. the boy you liked, stands there telling you how he couldn't be with you. he was scared, of his feelings and what others would think.

you scoff, angrily you shoved him. pointing at him, "you of all people, i didn't think would care so much of what people think."

"i don't, i–look, my mother doesn't like humans, she hates spider–he's like my brother and she never sees him," he explains. feeling the moisture in his eyes gather, he wipes them off quickly. his eyes trail the ground at your feet.

you look away, "so it's your mom?"

"it's everyone," he kicks the ground, "i should've never fallen for a human."

"is that what you see us as?"

his eyebrows are stitched together, unable to form words as his mind is frazzled.

"aliens, i am just a human to you–not anything more." it hurts, it really does.

⭒ it was then that you listed the possibilities of what was wrong with you. what didn't you have that he wanted. you didn't want to believe that he would let that affect him, what others think or see.

⭒ he's lying to himself, he kicks himself after being reminded of how much of a skxawng he was.

⭒ tuk found out what he did, she was really angry. she really liked you, you always took her places with you. everytime she'd see neteyam she'd hiss at him.

"hah, she hates you," kiri sings. she's also not his biggest fan after finding out from the source how much of his asshole her brother was.

⭒ it was then, they needed to leave. to save the tribe–to save everyone. neteyam and his family had to leave.

⭒ the weather was awful that day, as if even eywa knew. he's completely covered in rainwater, head to toe trying to find you.

⭒ you're saying bye to kiri and tuk.

"you're not coming?" it was the first words he'd spoken to you since, almost a month ago. it wasn't like he didn't try, his mouth always tried to say something but the moment you'd spot him–felt his energy, you were gone, avoiding him like the plague.

kiri took tuk away, knowing that this was about to get dirty. you shrugged, watching the way the water fell from his pretty face after not really getting a look at him all this time, "what do you mean?"

"since you're saying bye, i assume you know–but you're not going with us? but you're my fa–"

an ironic laugh leaves your lips, interrupting him, "i'm just a human, neteyam, i know my place."

⭒ neteyam never had felt heartbreak before, not before today. irony, your heart broke a month ago. he'd not only lost his home, but he lost...his true home.

end note. if you made it this far I HAVE A TAGLIST, if you wanna be tagged that is <;3

© moongumi 2023. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

[atombonniebaby]

I post so many pics of the big guy, but I don't think I've really gone into his background too much...and I was in the mood to info dump!

Nathanial Alasdair Watt

Age: 37

Nationality: Scottish

As the General of the Commonwealth Minutemen, he has earned a place in the hearts of the people. His kind demeanor and bravery have won him the admiration of many. As a pre-war, decorated war hero, Nate knows a thing or two about combat, leadership, and survival. His reputation precedes him.

Just a bunch of facts and screenies of my boy below the cut 🙌

Cat Like Reflexes and sense of exploration: At 6ft, he's surprisingly agile on his feet. Growing up in his family's profession (that's still a secret 😏) he needed that upper body strength and found he was more than comfortable being up high. 💪🏻

Teddy Bear: He comes across as someone not to mess with, but this big lad has a big heart and a big personality that is tested a lot post-war...but when you're General of the Minutemen... whilst simultaneously trying to make sure the other factions don't annihilate each other... well you gotta maintain a sense of humour... so Nate enjoys knowing people find him intimidating, just to watch their faces when he deadpans a somewhat dubious response... oh and he'll never ditch that twirly mustache! (his tats are a form of self expression, but two have meaning. The rose on his neck, with Nora's name...and Shaun's name under his wedding band)

The Wanderer: The fact that he ended up settling down was a surprise to him as much as it was to everyone who knew him pre-war. Nate grew up on the road, his family traveled all over. Moving to America from Scotland when he was was a young lad of fifteen... leaving homeland was something that took Nate some time to accept and it wasn't until his sister came along two years later that Nate stopped being angry at the world.

The Sole Survivor: Seventeen years her senior, he was very close to his baby sister Elspeth, and was as much a part of defining the bright young woman she grew up to be. Nate and Nora recognised El needed stability and had a dream of doing more than just tinkering. She had a knack for robotics and fascination for how things work. So they offer her a place to stay whilst she studied in Boston. Losing his best friend and partner in crime is particularly hard on Nate, because El was the only person he could ever truly let his guard down around.

Atom's Gift: Nate's unphased by a lot of things, and one of those things is radiation. "Sole Survivor" isn't a new moniker to Nate, who's often found himself coming to in wake of destruction. Survivor's guilt is something he's had to endure many times over... and to some extent it makes him reckless... it's difficult to keep a level head in the heat of the moment when you feel like nothing can touch you.

Protector of Strays: So when he stumbles up a canny looking German Shepherd, he doesn't think twice about letting him tag along. "Dugmeat" helps Nate a lot in the early days out of the Vault, and it is rare you'll see Nate without his hairy shadow (oh and taking in 'strays' does extend to the human variety)

Nobody is beyond redemption (mostly): Nate's fatal flaw is probably his inibility to say no, and if faced with someone (or a group of someones) whom may be deemed 'unsavoury' or 'a risk' if Nate sees potential, then he's gonna try. So, when Nate meets MacCready, he sees a lot of his younger self... a young guy down on his luck who just needs somebody to give him a chance... it isn't long before the pair bond and Nate truly takes the young scrap under his wing. Being close in ages with his late sister, he's used to dealing with difficultly headstrong individuals... But to be clear, you only get one chance. If you break his trust, don't expect to be given a second chance.

More than just business partners: When Nate meets Jacob, the stranger who hears his radio broadcast about setting up a new Settlement in his old neighbourhood of Sanctuary Hills with his "ASAM" sensors. Nate decides to humor the guy, and quickly finds himself revisiting feelings he'd spent a great deal of his younger years trying to ignore... and tries to again. But in the Commonwealth, life has a way of reminding you that every moment is precious... Nate takes a chance.

At a Minute's Notice: A natural leader and protector, the Minutemen reformation was the foundation Nate needed to build upon. With Jake's ASAMs and Nate's influence, more factions emerge in the Commonwealth, and Nate is more than happy to support in any way he can... if there is a uniform that fits, he'll wear it.

All seeing he is not: Sometimes the world has a way of humbling you and there is nothing more frustrating for this Sole Survivor than having his specs knocked off his face in the heat of battle...or having to rummage around in the dirt and debris long after.

I can't wait to tell you their story

[ptergwen]

tastes like cherry

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: swearing, hints of cheating, and suggestive themes

summary: peter is into you, but you’re into mj... and peter

a/n: i love this concept even tho it’s unhealthy? let’s take it as a cautionary tale :D also this is my last full oneshot of the year!! i’ll do something quick tomorrow tho

━━━ ➳❥

“sorry, peter. i’m already going with mj.”

you shut your locker, revealing an oddly unphased peter behind it. he doesn’t understand what you mean.

the two of you make your way through the hall. you’re about to head some so you can get ready for liz’s party later. she told you about it first since you’re good friends. you asked mj to come this morning, which was liz’s idea. she’s been trying to set you two up for a while.

“ok, that’s fine. i’m sure she’ll understand if you-“ you cut him off before he gets too excited. “like, as a couple. she’s my date.” peter’s face falls.

you and mj? no offense to her, but he could never see you liking someone so... dry. he’s always pictured bubbly and sweet people to be more your speed. himself, for example.

“that’s,” peter clears his throat. “that’s cool.” you smile to yourself, thinking about spending the night with mj. he’s thinking about how he can show his support without sounding jealous. “since when did you, um, have a thing for her?” “i don’t know. liz helped me realize, honestly,” you nudge his arm.

“maybe you can hang out with her tonight.” peter turns to look at you like you’ve said the most insane thing ever. you’re already looking at him. it brings a blush to his cheeks, which you take as him liking her. you smirk and stop when you get to the doors.

“i... i don’t think that’s a good idea,” he decides with a nervous smile. “think about it more. see you later.” you push open one of the doors and skip outside. you’re already gone when he responds. “yeah, see you.”

he needs to come up with a plan, fast.

-

“dude, that’s rough,” ned can’t hold back a laugh at the story. peter is at his place, the two of them about to leave for the party. he told him what happened earlier in hopes of getting a second opinion. if he’d known ned would react like this, he would’ve kept it to himself.

“this isn’t funny, ned. i need help,” peter almost whines, flopping back on ned’s bed. ned is fixing his hair last minute. “i’m sorry, bro, but i don’t think y/n likes you that way,” he says sympathetically this time. peter sits up again. they both make eye contact in the mirror. “how do you know that?” “uh, she rejected you?”

puffing some air out of his cheeks, peter watches ned run a comb through his hair. the silence gives him time to reflect on your conversation. he suddenly remembers a key part of it.

“she only said no because she’s taking mj,” peter repeats, ned squinting at his friend’s reflection. “not because she doesn’t like me.” ned puts the comb down, satisfied with his look. he sighs and faces peter again. “it’s too late, dude. try again some other time.”

peter disregards everything he said and keeps plotting. he snaps when an idea comes to him. “all i have to do is get y/n alone for a while.” he looks up at ned with hopeful eyes. that can’t be good.

ned doesn’t approve of messing with your love life. he wishes peter could be just happy for you and move on. that being said, he is supposed to be peter’s wingman. he’d be a pretty terrible one by saying no to whatever he’s about to ask. he mentally apologizes to you before giving in.

“what am i gonna do?”

“can you distract mj for me?”

-

kids are still piling in when peter and ned arrive. they follow the line of people leading the way. it’s easy to forget how popular liz is because she does academic decathlon with all of you, the most uncool club midtown has to offer. this puts it in perspective.

liz is greeting people at the door. another reason she’s not your stereotypical popular girl is that she’s actually nice.

peter heads in first, ned behind him. her face lights up the second they step inside.

“what took you so long?” she playfully questions the two of them. “ned’s hair,” peter answers, earning a laugh from her. ned elbows his side. “it looks great, ned,” liz compliments him and winks at peter. “oh, thank you.” he tries to act humble about it by running a hand through the style.

peter peers over liz’s head to see if he can find you. he’d have to stand on his tiptoes to really make progress, so that’s done. liz still picks up on it.

“looking for someone?” she raises an eyebrow at him. ned shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “um, do you know where y/n is?” peter clenches his jaw. “in the kitchen with mj. she told me you might wanna hang out tonight.” she’s sort of studying his face, widening her eyes. he averts his own to his feet.

“i should really find her. i’ll... i’ll catch up with you later.” his lips press into a forced smile. “come on, ned.” the two of them set off for the kitchen. ned tells her goodbye and follows peter, leaving liz standing there shocked.

“you could’ve been a little nicer, dude,” ned concludes from the encounter. they’re on their way to the kitchen. peter shrugs his shoulders with both eyebrows furrowed. “i wasn’t mean, though. i’m just, you know, busy.” “so is y/n.”

you’re laughing about something mj said, your arms tightening around her waist from behind. one of your hands has a drink in it. the other searches for hers. she laces your fingers together and rolls her eyes, probably calling you a dork. it’s in a loving way, unlike when she uses the same nickname on peter.

ned might be right. it seems like you’re having a really good time. who is peter to take that away from you? he’d rather you be snuggling up to him than mj, but what matters beyond anything is that you’re enjoying yourself. he should listen to you and spend some time with liz. she’s at least interested in him.

he completely changes his mind when your lips brush mj’s cheek. back to his plan.

“you’re here!” you announce as peter and ned enter the kitchen. mj nods her head at them. “thing one. thing two,” she greets, holding out her free hand to fistbump ned. “hey.” peter grins at you, then gives mj a slightly smaller one. she notices. he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“did you say hi to liz?” you check with your eyebrows raised in anticipation. ned answers for peter, who bites down on his lip. “they’re gonna hang out later.” mj snorts at the idea. “why would she ever wanna do that?” “because i told her to,” you sigh and glance at peter. he’s so stiff.

“and why would you do that?” mj deadpans, looking peter over. he glares back. he hates being talked about like he’s not there. ned forces out a laugh to clear some of the tension between them. you don’t realize any of this is happening.

“i mean, she set me up with you. i wanted to return the favor,” you explain and rest your chin on mj’s shoulder. her face softens. she tilts her head back to look at you with a smile. “aw,” ned coos and draws a heart around you two with his fingers.

he’s secretly rooting for you and mj.

peter points at the snack table, his eyes going from mj to you. “i’m gonna... get a drink.” “ooh, fun. i picked them out,” you beam at him. mj pulls you closer to her before he comes over. she’s not happy with the way he keeps looking at you. you’re not completely oblivious to it either. you just don’t know what to think of it.

you pick up your cup to take a sip of soda. peter has to pass by you to get his own. right as you bring yours to your lips, peter ‘accidentally’ knocks into you. the drink spills down the side of your dress. this is all part of his plan. you squeal and step away from mj.

mj hits peter’s arm with the back of her hand. “idiot. look what you did to my date.” she only refers to you as her date so he’ll take the hint and back off. he ignores her and tends to you instead, a frown on his lips.

“i’m so sorry, y/n. i didn’t mean to-“ “it’s fine. ned, can you hand me a napkin?” you do your best not to let your frustration show.

he goes to get one off the counter. peter turns to him and mouthes ‘don’t’ before he gets the chance. ned mouthes ‘why not?’ back. peter says ‘because i said so.’ their silent conversation doesn’t go unnoticed by mj. she huffs and pushes past peter. “what the fuck, i’ll get it.”

peter gives him a look that says to do something. panicking, ned pushes the stack of napkins onto the floor. they all end up scattered around.

everyone waits for him to address it. “oops,” he chokes out. “you’re both idiots,” mj grumbles, getting onto the floor to pick them up. this should keep her distracted for a while. things are falling into place.

“i’m gonna see if i can borrow something from liz,” you tell the three of them in an exhale. peter rushes to your side. “do you need help with your dress?”

not sure what to say, you look over at mj. her and ned are busy cleaning up. she probably won’t mind. “this is my fault. i feel bad,” peter continues on.

you leave your empty cup on the snack table and nod. “come with me.”

-

you bring peter up to liz’s room and shut the door behind you. he has to bite back a smile while you search through her drawers for new clothes. sorry to liz, looks like the two of you are spending the night together now.

your change of clothes ends up on the bed. it’s only a t-shirt and jeans. you’re actually kind of bummed about your dress because you bought it specifically for tonight. not that mj would ever care what you wear, but you felt like dressing up. a few compliments from her wouldn’t hurt, though. she’s not the best in that area.

“can you unzip me?” you ask peter, eyeing him over your shoulder. he’s quick to come up behind you. he puts a hand on your lower back. his other slowly tugs the zipper down. “this is cute,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb over the material of your dress. the feeling and his words give you goosebumps.

“sorry i kind of ruined it.” “are you?” you’re only teasing. peter answers seriously, his voice lower than usual. “no.” you take a step forward when he finishes with the zipper. “it did feel pretty staged to me. you’re not that clumsy.” there’s emphasis on ‘that.’ he hums in a rather suggestive way. you face him again.

the back of your dress gets left open. peter’s eyes trail down your body, his hands not quite leaving it yet.

you’ve always seen him as this harmless, infinitely nice guy. he’s almost too nice for you. it’s why you never considered him as more than a friend. mj has an edge to her, and you like that. peter might have an edge, too.

this new side of him is starting to make you rethink his spot in the friend zone. you feel like you might be rushing into things with mj. should you really have taken liz’s advice? or, should you have came with peter?

“why’d you do it?” your gaze shifts down to his lips. he moves closer to you. that inspires you to take another step back. “i had to get you away from mj.” “she’s my date,” you say unconvincingly and keep walking backwards. peter follows until you end up against the wall.

it’s the perfect spot for him to corner you in. so, he does.

his arms are on either side of the wall behind you. he leans his head down. your faces are dangerously close to each other. your mouths are dangerously close to each other, too.

“you’re... you’re supposed to be with liz,” you breathe out. peter brings a hand up to caress your cheek. “she probably has better things to do.”

it’s almost impossible not to give in to his touch. his fingers run over your skin gently, contradicting the intense way his eyes stare into yours. you lean your cheek in the palm of his hand. you’re still having doubts.

“well, i’m supposed to be with mj,” you try to remind the both of you.

peter considers it for a moment. you two definitely shouldn’t be doing this. the selfish side of his brain takes over then. it’s not like you and mj made it official yet.

“supposed to be doesn’t mean you want to,” he rasps, his thumb moving down to your lower lip. he runs it across. you watch him with hooded eyes. as much as you crave his lips on yours, it wouldn’t be fair to mj. you care about them both.

“what if she’s looking for me?” your voice is just above a whisper. “ned has it covered,” he reassures you. “we’re okay.” we. you really like the way that sounds.

you’re not sure what’s going on with your head or your heart right now. all you know is that you want, no, need peter to kiss you. you’d never forgive yourself if you let the chance pass you by.

“you thought of everything,” you remark, winding one of your arms around his neck. peter’s breath fans over your face. he grabs your waist, you pushing your body flush against his. there isn’t an inch of space between you two. “because i like you, y/n.”

“i like you, too,” you finally admit to yourself and peter. your lips are so close to his they’re ghosting. “but, i also like mj.” his fingers press into your side. “can we worry about that after we kiss?” a grin crosses your face. “good idea.”

peter lets his lips land properly on yours, both of you melting into the kiss. this already feels so right even though it isn’t. he sighs in content and drops a hand down to your hip. you use your hand on his neck to deepen the kiss, your head against the wall.

he pulls you up by your hips, signaling for you to jump. your legs wrap around his middle while he snakes his around your waist again. he’s easily holding you while his lips attack yours.

“shit, you’re so strong,” you giggle into his mouth, an airy laugh escaping him. “think so?” peter kisses over to your cheek. one of your dress straps falls down your shoulder. you leave it. his lips kiss their way back to yours, getting messier with each one. you give him a lazy smile. he pecks your lips one more time, softly.

“you taste like cherry,” peter mumbles, now moving down to your chin. it’s shiny from where your lip gloss smeared. “cherry coke. the one you spilled on me,” you explain with a scoff. he keeps kissing down the center of your neck, his fingers tugging at the end of your dress.

“wonder what else tastes like cherry.” he’s half joking and half serious. actually, more serious. you gasp and tilt your head to the side more. you can feel him smirking while his lips dance across your skin. “peter, i can’t believe you of all people would say that.” “i’m full of surprises,” he hums, sucking a little too hard on one spot.

it’s hot having him take control like this, but this isn’t the time or place for a hickey.

“wait, i don’t want mj to see.” that’s the least of your problems. still, it’s a very big one. it comes right after choosing between which one of your friends you like more. you’re so screwed.

“alright. let’s do something else,” peter suggests, tightening his grip around your waist. he carries you over to liz’s bed. you giggle into his ear and throw your other arm around his neck. he drops you right next to your change of clothes, which you forgot about. they’re the whole reason you’re up here.

there’s a lot to unpack in this situation. you’re in your best friend’s room making out with her crush, while your sort of girlfriend has no fucking clue where you went.

good thing peter and his kisses are here to distract you from it all.

[stardust-kenobi]

Sunlight

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan is stressed about the war, and you offer him some relief in more ways than one.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, smut, riding 

A/N: I feel like this is kinda similar to the mando fic I wrote with the whole “oh you’re stressed, wanna fuck?” scenario but it sure is a good scenario so let’s go with it 🥰

I have been so MIA, but I hope this was worth the wait!!

Requested by anon; hope you love it ❤️

gif cred: @coredrive​

His chin rested in the crevice between his index finger and thumb. He was absent for his words. The foggy rays of light that beamed onto his face illuminated the crystal blue in his eyes. His brows were furrowed, pressing against one another with intense thought and pondering. His body leaned forward with his mind racing faster now. You couldn’t read his thoughts, of course, but his body told you everything you needed to know.

Sitting on the sofa next to Obi Wan provided you with a view to observe his position and the way he so clearly was lost in his mind. You wanted to speak up, but you needed to read him further. Your sight traced the curve of his lips and the golden glow of his hair in the suns light. A stray lock of hair rested on his forehead, so delicate and light. He must have known you were staring at it, as he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, taking the loose lock with it.

“Obi Wan” you called to him gently.

He was unphased and still, refusing your call unintentionally. You speak up again, with no reciprocation.

“Obi Wan” you said firmer this time, and placed your hand on his knee, hoping your touch would snap his attention away from himself.

His body jolted slightly, and he blinked himself right out of the funk inside his head. He shook his head before turning to you, visibly traveling back to reality.

“Darling, I’m so sorry” he sighed, looking into your gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“Just have a lot on my mind. Nothing you should worry yourself about” he smiled, playing off his obvious distress. His smile said more to you than most people would recognize. To you, it meant that no matter the mood he was in, looking to you brought him instant happiness.

“You can talk to me. You know that right?” You consoled him.

Obi Wan’s expression changed. He appeared confused.

“Oh no, it’s nothing serious, I promise you” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. You care too much for me” he tried to hide a flustered smile at how much you worried.

“Of course I care for you, Obi Wan” you said, displeased at his doubt. “I care quite a lot about you”

“And what did I do to deserve compassion from such a wonderful woman?” His voice grew softer while he placed his palm on top of yours that still laid on his knee.

You tried to hide your smile but you were unsuccessful in your attempt. You were without words but your expression said it all. Obi Wan looked into you for a moment before releasing a deep sigh and turning his attention to your hands.

“If you truly wanted to know what’s on my mind, I’ll tell you, but it would only bore you”

“Of course I want to know, hush” you scoffed.

“Well alright...” he began. “Anakin and I have been instructed to think of more effective strategies for our battles in the war. The council told us we need to direct our troopers better. Really, I don’t...I don’t even know what that means. We’ve been incredibly successful, especially recently. We aren’t sure where this is coming from.” He paused to think “Anyhow, its been plaguing my mind to create new plans but I’m just lost with it. Anakin is, as well” he rambled, but you listened to every word he said. Even if you didn’t fully understand what your boyfriend was saying, you were there to support him.

“That doesn’t make sense, Obi Wan. You’re the best general that they have” you praised him. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he wasn’t so sure of that.

“I hardly think so. But thank you”

“Maybe you should rest. It may help you clear your mind” you suggested warmly. He smiled at you with affection.

“Oh no that’s alright darling. I’ve been doing plenty of resting and meditation. It hasn’t helped much” he began, sounding defeated. “Don’t you worry”

“Okay”

“I’ve been quite distracted as well. That’s only made it harder to relax” he blurted almost hesitantly.

“What’s distracting you?” You pried.

“Just...certain things.” He sounded as if he hinted at something.

“What kind of things?”

“You.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking of you, a lot, and...its becoming...very distracting” he spat out quickly, hoping that the faster it left his lips, the faster he could pretend he never said it.

Butterflies danced in your tummy and your cheeks were flushed red. He thought of you. To think he thought of you with the extent of being a distraction made your heart skip a beat or two.

“I distract you? What kind of thoughts of me could possibly distract you to this extent, Obi Wan?” You subtly teased him, and hoped he provided the answer you wanted.

“You’re just so...breathtaking. Just watching you walk in a room drives me crazy” he danced around what he wanted. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I see” you purred.

“I just, stars, y/n, I need you” he pleaded softly. A warmth grew inside of you. It had been a while since you two had any intimate time together, you’d both been so busy. It was still a new relationship, and his affection was still very unfamiliar to you, which is why you were so nervous.

You responded without words, but simply a repositioning of your hips into his lap. Straddling his his thighs spread widely on the couch, you pressed yourself into him firmly. His slight arousal was already apparent through the thin of his robes’ fabric.

“I’m all yours, Obi Wan” you whispered against his lips before locking them with his mouth. He vibration transferred from his lips into yours, so eager for your touch.

“Show me that you’re mine now, my love” he breathed into you. You shivered at the seduction of his gruff voice. You grinded into him instantaneously, feeling him grow against you while you did so.

“I can relieve your stress, Obi Wan. If you’ll let me”

“Maker...do as you please with me” he begged of you, his fingers digging into the curves of your waist and pulling you into him. Obi Wan’s words of encouragement turned you on immediately and you noticed the bulge that continued to grow against your heat.

“Just relax my love” you gently breathed as you wrapped your hands over his tensed shoulders and he rolled them back into your grip.

Your hips shifted backward to allow yourself access to his desperate and sensitive core. Your fingers pulled at the hem of his pants in order to release him. Obi Wan gladly lifted his body to shimmy his trousers down slightly. You watched in eager anticipation as his cock was revealed to you. You bit your bottom lip, and you could feel Obi Wan looked intently at you, observing how you watched him and admired his most private region.

“Please...” he whimpered. Impatient for your hands on him, starved of touch beyond comprehension.

“Whatever you wish, Master Kenobi” you whispered against his lips, before pressing them into his again, and slipping your tongue into his mouth. With your eyes closed, your hand navigated to his cock, completely stiff and awaiting your caress.

His body jolted as you wrapped your fingers around his length, applying only slight pressure. As you stroked him gently, Obi Wan pulled away from your lips to release pleasurable sounds from his throat. His head laid back against the sofa and his took in the sensation of your touch. You continued to pump him firmly, responding to how his body leaned into you and the moans he produced.

“Stars, y/n, let me have you, now” he pleaded for the warmth inside you. You could feel the pooled wetness already formed within you, knowing you needed no foreplay to continue with this. Nothing out of the ordinary with him, it never took much to arouse you with Obi Wan, sometimes you questioned if he was subtly using the force on you.

You lifted your gown to your thighs and pulled the thin lace of your panties to the side. He watched you, mentally preparing himself for you and eyeing you like you were his next meal. Inching forward and hovering yourself over his cock, you breathed deeply, heart racing as if you’d never loved him in this way before.

You lowered yourself slowly, never breaking your gaze into his eyes. He whimpered for you to continue and bury him within you. The walls inside you wrapped around him gracefully and a blissful sound escaped you, throwing your head back at this first feeling of being filled for the first time in so long.

“Wait a moment” he requested, pulling your attention from pleasing him. “I just want to look at you” He says before swallowing hard in attempts to continue his patience while your hips are sewn together. “I want to feel you--just like this”. You felt the gentle twitch of his cock within you, as he cherished being warmed and comforted by your body.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered as if there was anyone else in the vicinity. 

Man he knows how to make you putty in his hands, doesn’t he?

Obi Wan nudged you with his fingertips to indicate he wished for you to carry on with your intentions. It was heaven for both of you while your bodies rolled together with unity you formed. Obi Wan breathed out tenderly and his hands trembled against your hips as you guided your sex up his length, adding motion to your effort.

“Oh, darling” he groaned. The sunlight moved into position to highlight his features. Stars, you thought, he looks like an angel. The soft illumination of the evening sun peeking through the windows painted a vivid picture of his facial features, and the expression he displayed as a result of your touch. His eyes shut gently to take in the sensations you provided him. Your palm explored the texture of his robes, still clung to his skin on his chest, never given to chance to be removed.

“Obi Wan” you vocalized sweetly. His eyes peered open to meet yours. He was melting for you while you overtook him. You always made sure to be vocal and responsive in bed with Obi Wan. He often showed you how much he adored your whimpering by pulling you into him or fucking you harder. Today was different. It was your turn to take care of him. Nonetheless, his cock pressed against your most delicate and sensitive spots inside you while you rode him, your moans would be anything but quiet.

“Yes, my love, don’t stop. You make me feel so good, y/n” his hands glided up and down your curves. An array of chills shot down your spine at his caress and you grinded your hips in the same motions that you lifted up and down onto him. You switched to a rotation of your hips that you knew drove him crazy every single time. It was simple, really, but you always used this technique on occasion. You’d raise your hips swiftly, and lower yourself slowly at an angle while grinding down onto him.  His breath hitched suddenly and he grabbed you firmly, pulling you forward and pressing you against his chest. Obi Wan was never great at letting you take over, even when he wanted you to. He liked to take you as his.

Next, Obi Wan made a quick motion that you were unable to process before it was already happening. He lifted you and placed you down onto the sofa, and hovered above you.

“I’m sorry, darling but-” He started “In order to relieve my stress, I want to have you like this...is that alright?” He checked with you, always, never to leave you uncomfortable during your intimate moments. You smirked and nodded your head in approval. Returning his cock to bury inside your pussy, he began to thrust quickly. A moan created by the sensation of this new angle became trapped in your throat finally released with a blissful sigh.

“Obi Wan, I love y-...you” you whispered, piercing your gaze into his eyes. His thrusts halted at your sentiment.

You’d never said that to him before.

But you did. You really did love him.

“Y/n...” his voice broke. His eyes were hopeful.

You wondered if now was the best time to tell him that, but you couldn’t take it back now. You didn’t want to.

He cupped your face with his hand that wasn't supporting himself above you.

“I love you” he smiled through his words. You smiled back, your face pressed against his palm. “More than you know, my darling”

He resumed his thrusting, jolting you both back into a different mindset. Obi Wan’s hips slapped the inside of your thighs repeatedly, putting himself as deep into you as possible, but still barely fitting. You let him set the pace he desired, after all, you still wanted this to be about him.

His moans were so rough and breathy as they crept from his throat. Something about your body causing him to sound so beautiful aroused you tremendously.

You felt the pit of your belly tense while Obi Wan curled his hips into you faster. You were so close to your orgasm.

“Mm, Obi...yes, right there” you pleaded for him to keep his pace.

“Does that feel good, my love?”

“Y-yes it feels so good. I’m gonna cum” you whimpered, desperate for your release.

“Not yet, darling. I want us to cum together”

It would be a challenge to hold it back, but you did, for him. Thankfully for you, it was only seconds later that you heard his moans and whimpering grow louder and choppier, indicating that he was close to his release.

“Stars, y/n, I’m so close”

“Cum inside me, Obi Wan” you purred.

“Are you sure?” He barely managed to say.

With your nod of approval, Obi Wan spilled himself into you followed by his unmuffled sounds that released his sexual buildup as well as his stress buildup. Your close peak reached your core, and washed over you, contracting your walls around him while he came inside you.

“Fuck yes!” You cried, seeing stars with your head thrown back against the sofa.

Obi Wan gripped the back of your neck firmly, but was careful not to hurt you. He was trembling softly as he floated back down. He smirked at you while the two of you attempted to catch your breath. A small chuckle escaped you.

“What is it?” Obi Wan curiously pried into what humored you so suddenly.

“I just...maker, I..I really do love you Obi Wan” you felt the need to repeat these words to him. He needed to know, and you never wanted to stop saying it. He smiled in the way he did before, so warm and inviting.

He sat next to you and placed your head on his lap.

“I love you, too. I always will” 

“Let me know the next time you’re feeling...what was it that you said? ‘Distracted’? or ‘Stressed’?” You teased him.

“Believe me, I will” He giggled with you, before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[tommyparkerr]

Enough | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Alright y’all here’s one of my dusty old docs I happened to stumble across in my every-now-and-again clean up of Google Docs. Just as a disclaimer, I wrote this in 2018 so no one is allowed to judge me for this, okay? Okay. 

Words: 3.0k

Warnings: Panic/anxiety attack (though it’s presented differently than the majority I’ve seen), some angst, Shawn being stupid, crying

-Masterlist-

E N O U G H :

How’d studio go?

You were hesitant to send the text but did it anyway. You hoped for a positive response, but with the way things had been lately it was highly unlikely. Still, you so badly wanted to give Shawn the benefit of the doubt so you decided you would wait until his response proved you differently. After two hours had passed and he still hadn’t replied, however, you got your answer, and the benefit of the doubt quickly fizzled away. 

Shawn wasn’t one to just not answer you, but lately it’d been more and more reoccurring. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or that he was angry at you; it was that he cared too much and was angry at himself. You still remembered when Shawn called you after a studio day a while back, disappointed that he hadn’t managed to find any sort of inspiration. You didn’t know it then, but that was only the first of many uninspired days he’d be facing over the next several months. 

The boy hid it well—the self-hatred and frustration—but you saw things that others didn’t. You were the one who saw the dark rings under his eyes before he had the chance to cover them up. You were the one who spent countless nights with him on the phone, trying and failing to reassure him that it was all right he was feeling this way and that it happened to all writers at some point. You were the one who brought him coffee with an extra shot of espresso each morning because you knew if you didn’t he would fall asleep in the middle of warm-ups. 

Shawn was going to crash soon, and not in the metaphorical sense; he was going to mentally crash. In a way, he already had. But you had a feeling that these past months were going to catch up to him, the meaningless guitar strums and pointless piano chords adding up to be one too many, and he was going to crash. Hard. You just had to make sure you were there when he did. 

Lucky for you your apartment wasn’t too far from his, that way when he called and asked you to come over because he needed you (and vice-versa), you could be there in five minutes or less. It hadn’t been purposeful, the close addresses, but it worked out. And you were happy it did, as there’d been numerous times the short distance was used to your advantage in emergency situations—such as the time you made cookies and wanted to surprise Shawn with them while they were still hot. 

Your phone buzzed from the coffee table, startling you from your half-conscious state. You rubbed your eyes and your hand fumbled to pick up your phone. 

Same.

You sighed. Somehow you knew that while you’d been relaxing in your apartment watching cheesy movies and almost dozing off, Shawn had been sitting staring at blank sheets of music in an apartment that was entirely silent apart from the experimental chords he’d strum and immediately nix. 

Before you could even think, your fingers were making the appropriate movements to call Shawn. It rang a few times, the soft sound making your eyes droop again. 

“Hey, it’s Shawn!” 

Shawn’s voice snapped you awake and you shook your head at yourself, frustrated that you’d almost fallen asleep when he clearly needed someone to talk to. 

“Hey Shawn, you oka-“

“I’m busy right now, but leave a message and I’ll be sure to call you back.”

You blinked a couple times, the switch from your boyfriend's voice to the teller machine making you stumble. You quickly hung up before a voicemail could be recorded and tried calling again, but you only got the same result. 

There was no reason he shouldn’t be answering his phone when he’d texted you back only a minute ago. 

An unsettling feeling washed over you and you scrambled up from the couch to find your shoes and throw on your cardigan. It was below freezing outside but you didn’t care enough to spend the extra time finding a coat and warmer clothes; besides, it was a short walk to Shawn’s place. 

You called again. This time when the teller came on instructing you to leave a message after the beep, you did. 

“Hey bub, you’re really starting to worry me. I’ve been calling but you haven’t picked up, and I know you have me as an emergency contact; I know my calls are going through. So, I’m coming over. Right now, actually. Hang tight, okay? I’ll be there in a few.”

You were in such a rush that you hardly even noticed the cold. You were sure you’d feel it after you sorted everything out with Shawn, but until then it had no place in your mind. 

The receptionist didn’t question your presence in Shawn’s building, quite used to your late night visits, although she did look a bit concerned; you always made sure to bundle up this time of year and never went upstairs without flashing her a smile and quick hello, but now you did both, sprinting to the elevator and maneuvering the buttons to work as quick as possible. 

You didn’t bother knocking when you got to Shawn’s door, instead pulling out the key he’d given you months ago and using that to unlock it. At first you heard nothing when you stepped in, making you painfully aware of your racing heart. 

“Shawn?” you called out cautiously, not wanting to do anything that could possibly scare him off. You stepped further in to find the living room and kitchen clean as usual, but no Shawn. As you travelled further into the apartment your uneasiness grew stronger. “Shawn, where are-“

A mix between a shout and a groan came from the bedroom and you quickly sprinted to the area, finding that the sound had come from inside the closed—and locked—bathroom door. 

“Shawn, it’s Y/N. Please open the door, baby,” you said calmly, gently. 

“Get out!” he suddenly yelled after you’d made a couple more attempts. 

“I’m not leaving, Shawn-“

“Get out, Y/N!”

“Shawn,” you stated firmly, not being thrown off by his irrational anger. “Open the door.”

A loud bang sounded as Shawn slammed his fist against the door, making you jump. But your resolve still wasn’t weakening. 

“Leave me alone!”

“You do realize I’ll stay here all night, right?” you said truthfully. Even if he stayed angry the entire time you were here, you would much prefer it over silence. At least with anger you knew what he was doing; silence could mean anything. 

“I’ll call security!” he shouted. 

“With what phone?” you asked, having seen his supposed phone on the floor by his bed. Your point made him stumble for just a moment as you weren’t usually the type to fight fire with fire, but somehow you knew that tonight it might be the only way to get through to him. 

“You’re trespassing!” Shawn tried. 

Fire it was. 

“You mean on the property you gave me a key to and never asked for back?”

Shawn paused again—only for a second. “Can’t you live your own life for once instead of following me around like some lost puppy?” he jabbed. “I don’t need your help, Y/N!”

His words that were meant to extinguish the fire only fueled it, and before you could tell yourself to stop you raised your fist and banged hard against the door like he had—so hard that your hand ached. But it had gotten his attention; you could tell due to the sudden silence on the other side of the door. 

“Shawn,” you said, speaking quieter but still with unwavering tenacity. “I’m not leaving.”

The next few minutes were silent yet deafening. Just as you were about to open your mouth and say something else, a resounding shatter filled the air. You instinctively flinched and felt your heart drop when you realized what had happened.

Shawn had broken the mirror. 

You snapped into action, grabbing a pair of socks and shoes from Shawn’s closet then knocking on the bathroom door again, hoping beyond hope that that was the peak of his episode and it was all downhill from here. 

“Baby, please open the door.”

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief when you heard an answering click and carefully pushed the door open, taking in the sight of glass fragments scattered amongst the floor with Shawn right in the middle of it, looking unphased and too caught up in his own head to notice the mess he’d made. 

“Shawn.”

He turned to look at you, his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess from constantly pulling at it. Your heart broke and you so badly wanted to reach out and wrap him in a hug, but that probably wasn’t the best move right now considering the circumstances so you held back, instead offering him the socks and shoes. 

“Put these on and try to avoid stepping on the shards, okay? Go lay down. I’ll clean this up.”

While he didn’t show any reaction to your instructions, he did as you told him, carefully slipping on the footwear and treading out of the bathroom to his bed.

It took a bit of time to clean up the glass, especially when it came to scooping it out of the sink and off the countertop, but you did it, sweeping it several times to ensure there were no shards left behind. It was only when you’d finished the task, put the broom back, and dumped the glass in the trash that you went to Shawn. 

He was sitting up now, his legs hanging off the side of the bed and his feet bare of the amenities you’d provided him just minutes ago. Unsure of how to go about the situation, you sat on the floor in front of him and reached for his hand. He let you have it, and you were surprised to see he only had a few shallow cuts from the breakage. You decided you’d deal with those later. For now, though, you needed to deal with the mental wounds. 

You sat in silence, trying desperately to find the right words to say to get Shawn to talk to you. Lucky for you, though, you didn’t have to. 

“I-I didn’t mean what I said,” Shawn said, his voice hoarse and cracking. “Any of it—all of it. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” you replied quietly, tracing the lines of his palm. 

Shawn swallowed and shook his head, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I don’t know why I did it. I was just so-so angry and I couldn’t stop and I just…” He trailed off, his eyes laden with the self-hatred he’d been guarding from sight all these months. His eyes shut as if he knew what you‘d spotted and his head tilted away from you. 

“Hey,” you said softly, interlacing his fingers with yours and working with his other hand to do the same. “Look at me.”

It took awhile but eventually Shawn complied. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery, so sad and so genuinely upset that it made your own eyes water. 

You physically watched as all of the burden Shawn had been carrying around suddenly came down on him, his shoulders dropping and every muscle in his body relaxing to the point where he was falling forward. You jumped to your feet, catching his weight and pulling him into your mid-section. A broken sob left his lips, and you were quick to hold him firmly against your chest as you played with his tangled curls. 

You let him cry, let his wounded hands twist into your shirt even when it rose up and exposed your abdomen, let his tears and dribbles of blood soak through the thin fabric of the only clothing you had with you. Because this was the breakdown. This was the crash. 

You resisted shushing Shawn like you would a crying child, knowing that if you didn’t let him break then he wouldn’t be able to build himself back up—as much as it hurt you to watch. “I’ve got you, bub,” you whispered instead. “I’m here.”

Eventually Shawn’s tears slowed but he didn’t move, allowing you to continue your soothing touches and calming words. His hands slowly moved from your shirt to your waist, his fingers tracing patterns along the bare skin there. You felt him frown and he tilted his head up, looking at you concernedly. 

“You’re freezing.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. It drove you crazy sometimes how utterly selfless he was, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one of your favorite traits of his—one of the traits that drew you to him in the first place.  “I’m fine, Shawn.”

“Did you wear a coat?” he insisted. 

“No, I-“ You stopped at his disapproving look and exhaled. “I am fine, Shawn. It’s you I’m worried about, not me.”

Your words seemed to chase him away, as he rigidly pulled back into a sitting position and moved his eyes away from yours at the remark. You sighed and took a seat next to him, looking at your dangling feet versus his solidly planted ones before taking his hand again and guiding him to look at you. 

“Talk to me, Shawn,” you simply said, your voice the gentlest you could make it. 

He took a deep breath, letting it escape heavily through his nose. “I feel so pathetic.”

“Why?” you prodded, and when he shook his head you softly reminded him, “Bub, it’s just me.”

It took awhile for him to open up, but you stayed patient. You watched him as he formed the words in his head, trying to figure it out just as much as you were. 

“I’m supposed to be making music,” Shawn started quietly. “I know how pathetic I look each time I walk out of the studio with nothing more than what I brought in. Everyone’s waiting on me, expecting me to do something. It’s been months—months—and I’ve got nothing. I’ve done three albums back to back with no problem, I’ve done countless shows and tours and festival runs, but I have nothing now. No music, no ideas, no inspiration—nothing. And...and it makes me nothing.”

You paused. “If having nothing makes you nothing,” you said, choosing your words carefully, “then why am I here right now?” 

Shawn didn’t reply, training his eyes away from you and to the wall in front of him. You could see you’d simultaneously struck a chord with him and backed him into a corner; the only way Shawn could reply was either by telling you he didn’t know, which you both knew was false, or with self-deprecating reasoning, which you wouldn’t let slide for a second. 

You swallowed, knowing your next words would be extremely controversial. “Have you ever thought that maybe this is your mind’s way of telling you it’s time to take a break?”

Shawn immediately tensed, his head snapping back to you. “I am taking a break,” he argued. 

“No, you’re not,” you said, keeping your composure. “You’re working yourself twice as much as normal. You barely sleep, you hardly eat or drink anything other than what I give you, you never have the ‘time’ to hang out with me or your friends anymore, your mental health is spiralling-“ You quickly came to a stop, watching the fight you’d just recently seen in Shawn’s eyes begin to drain again at the last item on your list. “Shawn, I don’t know what taking a break means to you,” you began, “but to me it means letting go of your responsibilities—letting them disappear to the back of your mind where you won’t have to see them for awhile. It means relaxing, not worrying about deadlines or expectations or anything else remotely pressuring.”

Shawn was quiet, letting your words soak in. You and everyone else (including his fans) agreed it was time he took a break, but getting Shawn to agree himself was a whole other challenge. 

“I just…” He struggled for a moment, fiddling with his fingers and looking down. “I just feel like I’m not enough.”

There it is, you thought sadly. 

You gently grasped his chin and moved it until he was looking at you again. He looked so vulnerable, and you knew that whatever you said in the next moment could break him if you weren’t careful. 

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you breathed, “I promise you on all the stars in the world that you are and always will be enough. And if I have to promise you that every day for the rest of my life, I will. You are enough, Shawn, and the day you aren’t is the day tomorrow never comes.”

His eyes filled with tears again. He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, burying his head in the crook of your neck and hugging you so tightly you could barely breathe. 

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you carded your fingers through his tangled hair. “Probably break another mirror.”

Shawn let out a choked laugh, his breath giving you goosebumps. He squeezed you tighter and placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so in love with you, I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, Shawn,” you said, trying to hide the lump you now had in your throat. “I’m so in love with you, too. I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You held on to each other like that until the wee hours of the morning where you fell asleep in a different position but still curled up just the same. And when you woke up and were met with  Shawn’s sleeping face and gentle snoring, you realized that you wanted to wake up to that every day for the rest of your life. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Shawn subconsciously hugged you closer, his lips upturned in a soft smile. 

“You are enough, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you whispered, prepared to mark today as the first day of the promise you’d make to him every day from now until forever. “I promise on all the stars in the world.”

---

Permanent Tags: @dahliaspidey​ (There were a few others here whose URLs must have changed, plus I’m redoing all of my tag lists, so if you’re interested in being added to any of my tag lists check out the link in my bio!)

Shawn/Fic Tags: @odd-lil-duck @rava13 @deamus-liv @mendesficsxbombay​

[indiiglow]

Okay ramble time!

To preface this, unlike you gremlins I tried my best to be a good captain on my first time through, so here's how that went.

I fixed life support. This choice was honestly a guess knowing how things in Mark's universe go. I was kinda leaning more towards extinguishing the fire so damn I got lucky with that one lol

Woke up all the crew and we just. Made it to the planet. So you can imagine my surprise when Lady comes in in Go Towards the Light and yells at me about all the people I've killed. ???????

So at this point I start to realize what the fuck is going on. Obviously our chance at finding the warp core by continuously jumping in again is abysmally small, so I call an emergency meeting.

Aand here's where things go wrong (?). I Pop 'er in Reverse. But honestly just because this made more sense to me, like it feels like the kinda crazy solution that would work (which. I still don't see why we just randomly blew up like we hit a damn invisible wall in a videogame but go off I guess). But hey I do think this route is way better than distress signal so!

So we send a distress signal 🙄. Cue utter confusion. N. noir universe? Lady dimitrescu? Wha t??? But throwing down your weapons is obviously more reasonable so I go with that.

HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO YELL AT MY SCREEN THAT IM NOT TRYING TO DESTROY THE UNIVERSE, I'M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX IT!!!!

Then the door says dark and I open it knowing it's an obvious trap but the brainrot's too strong. (Things get fun and horror-y tho). And then it brings up Yancy so I open it again.

Don't care about the warp core so I don't open it a third time lol

Being honest, We've Never Been Here Before, but this is basically meaningless. We've apparently got some combat skills tho lmao

Part 2!

Kind of lost my mind at that beginning sequence. And then the choice reference didn't help.

So obviously horror. From there on I had a clear goal in mind, which was what Old Mark said, to tell him he can't go back.

We're apparently just guessing now, so I decided to always go right because I like the direction better.

So... still under the assumption that it's all very meta and it's Actor, I said he looks a lot like Markiplier... But like I wasn't wrong so?? The heist look punched me in the fuckin face tho

So right we go again! Seeing what was beyond the door this time, I foolishly chose to open it, thinking that time and space might still mean something skdjdkgjf

Of course, nostalgia got to me, I chose to comfort Mark 🙄

Years of training prepared me for this, so when I saw the third option pop up I scrambled to tell him he can't go back!

Intervene bc I dunno. Bandit cool. And I'm trying to save people here I guess

Right! Jim! We'll ignore me backtracking there for a minute it didn't matter anyway. These choices are starting to feel increasingly meaningless.

Next up is Left. Apparently we're in the DDLC universe now?? Left again. (Just bad choices all around, all the cool stuff was on the other side)

One last left. Here We Are- wait wrong universe. That slow, greyish travel through the wormhole even felt final. Istg that little piano tune in the background gave me a heart attack every time. I cannot explain to you the feelings when I stepped through that door to see the core room. That were promptly interrupted by a fire extinguisher to the face 😳

So after repeating 'you'll just continue the loop' at my screen ten times in increasing desperation, I was finally allowed to make a choice. And I wasn't exactly sure what would happen, but I knew Hold On had to be it.

I was completely unphased by Mark yelling at me because I knew I made the right choice the moment I made it (also, I'm impressed with y/n's quick thinking lol). And then THE ACTUAL WKM MUSIC KICKED IN FOR REAL AND IFHFKVVCJGK

But basically my thoughts during that scene went something like 'yeah I know you're tired you idiot but it's fine I fixed it, at least you finally realized your mistake', completely, and utterly exasperated. The relief was immesurable stepping out of that pod in the end though. Like I genuinely had a hard time believing that it was actually over, I kept expecting the reality to glitch but no, that was really it. Fuck. And then honestly my brain was just too mush to even process Dark

And that's it. I'd say I'm a pretty good captain all things considered 😌

If you've read this far what are you even doing with your life

[strangerthings-stans]

Thoughts Throughout My First Watch Through of Stranger Things Season Four:

WARNING: Spoilers and non-sense ahead. As I typed without thought. No think, just awe.

*All these statements were written directly after watching said episode. These are basically live reactions*

Chapter One:

In general, I'm terrified. So, right off the bat. I think Eddie is 010. He has a watch blocking his tattoo. He seemed to almost know what was going to happen to Chrissy and 010 seemed to know things in advance. And you're probably thinking I'm crazy because 010 is dead, but what if he faked his death? If 009 was able to survive, maybe he could too? Anyways. Even if it's left field. Eddie Munson Stan club.

*I needed a two hour break between episodes as I was alone at a cottage in the middle of no where. Absolutely terrified. I know they said this season was going to be scary. But jeez*

Chapter Two:

this episode brought to light how desensitized El is to inflicting pain. Now that the pain she inflicted is not a power, but her own free will, it shows that perhaps there is still a monster in her. Vecna probably shows your biggest fear/regret ... That would explain Freds vision. I'm wondering is Victor Creel is Vecna. It could also be 010 because he is getting vengeance on Eleven. I really don't have much to say about this episode at this present moment.

Chapter Three:

"peters projects"...Is Peter 010 or an experiment? The dinner table scenes are arguably the best scenes for comedic timing in stranger things, prove me wrong. My theory on 010 being Eddie still stands. He seemed unphased by Steve bringing up a friend with powers... But mind you, he could be numb to everything because of trauma. If Sam knows so much about elevens power (given though he is a scientist), then perhaps he has had an inside source?

*You can tell the writers really used the extra time during the hiatus wisely*

Chapter Four:

Absolute chills. As someone who has lost everyone in the last year, I can't help but feel a comfort in this episode. The special effects and practical effects in this episode were above and beyond. It really portrayed what nightmares feels like, fake elements but mostly real. This episode makes me feel bad for moments I felt as though Max's character was slightly lack luster (please please don't hate me because I already hate myself). She is nothing less than amazing. And her bond with Lucas is so pure, they geniuenly want the best for eachother... I wish we would've found out what was in the letter to him- but I'm glad he didn't because that would've been bad. Hopper being reunited with Jif was just so pure, I can't wait to see him reunite with Joyce (at least I hope that happens). Can you imagine him just not letting her say anything and just swooping her in for a kiss? My heart would not be able to handle that. On the note of Russia, I don't think Murray had the coffee... He may have been smart and he is conscience enough to figure out a plan.

Chapter Five:

I don't know how I feel about Brenner being back, and by that I mean, I don't know whether or not I can trust him. I'm so excited to see his character back, but it feels like this is Stockholm syndrome. I felt so bad for hopper this episode, I just felt for him. When he brought back up Sarah, I just cried. As per Eddie, I think the jocks meeting up with him was for the best... So they could maybe put two and two together to see Eddie didn't cause Chrissy's death. I'm really interested to see how the house will play into defeating Vecna (well this is under the impression he will be defeated). Suzie, please come and save the day.

Chapter 6:

I am starting to believe Joyce and Murray could single handedly take over the world. They both balance the chaos in eachother and I just love their dynamic. Speaking of dynamic, Suzie's house just seems like the most chaotic place in the world and part of me wishes that I lived there- I'm sure Argyle thinks the same. I loved his commentary of Eden's name relating it to her religious culture- he was really trying to score the brownie points. I'm also really worried that vecna took Eddie underwater... Last we saw him he was swimming..

Chapter Seven:

I absolutely love a good interrogation scene. And then the insanely smart use of light brights. I hope to save Nancy sings to her. Chefs kiss. Then the Russians. My god. The writers really had me on my toes. It had such high stakes with such high rewards. 1000 to 1. Wow. Just wow. The Reunion between Joyce and Hop- heart melting. To see Hop have his guard up to dropping it because he loves this women so much that he is just taking one minute to embrace her. Oh and then finally El leading to Vecna? I figured Vecna had something to do with the Creel's and I figured a new character this season would be an experiment. This was expected yet not? I should've saw it coming when the kruels little son didn't have the black eyes. I'm wondering if perhaps Terry was artificially inseminated with 001 ... Specimen... And perhaps that's how Brenner knows Eleven is their only hope. That is if Brenner is to be trusted, which that I'm not certain on. To think this isn't the finale.

My theories for the finale episodes of season 4 will be out once I compose myself.

[mangoofthesea]

Whumptober day 8 - ‘Definitely just a cold’

ao3

Hitoshi coughed into his sleeve again and hates the way he can feel his chest rattle. Class 2-A were in the middle of a training exercise and he had been put with Kaminari, Ojirou, and Yaoyorozu. They were in the middle of working on their plan for trying to “rescue” the hostage from the villains being played by Snipe and Cementos. At least Hitoshi was sure they were putting a plan together, he couldn’t be entirely sure between the pounding in his head and the aggravating tickle in his throat that try as he might couldn’t dislodge which he had resolved himself to ignoring.

“Ojirou, if you create a distraction by taking Chargebolt and blowing out the power, then we me and Mindjack might have a chance of getting around them to the hostages.”

Hitoshi looked up at the sound of his hero name and took a couple seconds to backtrack over the information, frowning at his teammates who had continued talking. Yeah, he could manage doing that, just follow Yaoyorozu and do whatever she said. That would be fine.

He stifled another cough, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing his face into his capture weapon so as to not be obvious, pressing a hand to his chest to stop the shudder as he did. Clearly didn’t do a good enough job as when he raised his head again he saw Kaminari looking at him with a frown.

“What?” he whispered.

“You doing okay, man?”

Hitoshi knew his boyfriend was probably worried, but right now he couldn’t deal with it. He needed to focus on doing well on the exercise. A stupid cough wasn’t going to stop him.

He leaned towards Kaminari, keeping his voice low while their teammates continued to discuss strategy. “I’m fine, Kaminari, don’t worry.” The other boy didn’t look totally convinced, but the crease in his brows lightened.

“Alright, if you say so. Just be careful out there today, you’re looking pretty pale.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. Kaminari rolled his eyes.

“Paler than normal. You know what I mean! Your dark circles look almost black instead of purple and you keep coughing.”

“Wow, with compliments like that no wonder you got me to date you.”

Kaminari gave his shoulder a shove and Hitoshi had to suddenly counter his weight back to stop from toppling over. Maybe he was feeling a little more off than he realised. He’d probably just take a nap or something when they finished the exercise. It would be fine.

Bringing his attention back to Kaminari he saw a small flicker of uncertainty on the other boy’s face so he decided to be merciful.

“Kami, I promise, I’m fine. Let’s just focus on training and I’ll sleep when we get back to the dorms or something. Don’t worry.”

Kaminari pouted but seemed convinced. “Okay...okay fine. But -”

A throat clearing got their attention and they looked up to find Ojirou and Yaoyorozu had finished their planning and were looking at them.

“Are you guys done flirting?”

Hitoshi looked back at them blankly, but felt sure they could see the red that was no doubt tinting his cheeks.

Kaminari meanwhile was unphased, and grinned back, all bright light and too much energy. “Yup! You guys finished with the plan?”

They were and quickly gave them the extra details of what they had worked out but it hadn’t expanded too much beyond what Hitoshi had heard before Kaminari started talking.

He and Yaoyorozu would sneak closer to the building once their teammates pulled the power and from there Hitoshi would use his modifier to incapacitate the ‘villains’ and Yaoyorozu would use her quirk to make restraints. Easy peasy, as Kaminari had said.

It probably wouldn’t be easy peazy, no doubt something would go wrong, but at least he was in a team with some seasoned hero students, one of which was the vice student president, so they would likely be stopped from fucking up too bad.

Hitoshi really hoped they would anyway. He had been moved onto the hero course during first year but he still felt like he was trying to prove himself. He had shown Aizawa and Principal Nedzu that he was deserving of the opportunity but it was still the hero course, if he didn’t keep up his progress, keep trying to match the other students which he was still behind on his training in comparison, then he might lose his spot. And after Aizawa had taken custody of him too, making him no longer hate the periods when the term was over and he had to go back to the cold angry house of his foster parents. If he fucked up and got kicked off he could say goodbye to the warm comfort of the meals cooked by Mic sensei and warm fuzzy cats wanting to curl up on him while he watched Eri learning to colour at the coffee table. All the little domesticities he had gotten used to and would hate to give up. They would probably let him go back to general studies, keep him on at UA so it wasn’t all bad. But if his dream was taken away from him again, now, after everything, all the work he’d put in, he doesn’t think he would be able to stomach staying.

So, he had to keep up,he had to do well. He couldn’t let down Aizawa after all the effort he had put into helping him get here, after giving him a place to live during breaks. Or a place to stop after classes or when the dorms made him feel too claustrophobic. He didn’t want to lose the way his life had changed in the last few months.

His thoughts were whirring as he followed Yaoyorozu, but tried to keep focused on their plan. They crouched around beneath the window they would be going through when they got the signal and waited. He closed his eyes and ignored the way the sudden movements had made his head swim, leaning his weight against the wall and clutching his capture scarf like a lifeline. He hated that it had become a sort of comfort blanket for him when he was wearing it, but try as he might his hand kept getting drawn back to it when he was stressed or nervous. He had thought he had been doing better with it, but the way he was feeling today was probably pushing him back into old habits.

Taking a steadying breath as much as his aching lungs would allow, he opened his eyes to find Yaoyorozu looking at him out of the corner of her eye where she had been using the keys made with her quirk to unlock the window. “Are you sure you’re up to this, Shinso? If you’re not feeling good we can tell Aizawa-”

“I’m fine,” he said, sharper than he had intended. But the notion of being the reason his team failed their training exercise made him want to scream, so in comparison snapping at her was probably okay. “Don’t worry about me, I just needed a minute. Feeling tired is all. I’ll be fine to do the exercise.” It wasn’t a lie, he was feeling pretty tired. Like his bones felt heavy and he wanted to go lie down and sleep for about ten years. But that wasn’t too different to normal. He wasn’t going to tell her any of that though.

She seemed less convinced than Kaminari had, showing why she was the class vice president. Shit.

However, before he had to think of any more excuses to stop her from stopping the exercise or contacting Aizawa they heard the buzz of the power and shouts which meant Kaminari had taken out the electricity.

Yaoyorozu didn’t move though.

“Creati!” he whispered harshly, half from emotion half from the way it made his throat burn, and pulled his voice modifier up, fixing it in place quickly. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for an answer he stood and pulled the now unlocked window open, jumping in, landing less soundlessly than he usually would. A moment later he heard her do the same, hitting the floor more delicately than he did, and pulling the window closed behind them to disguise where they entered. He heard the soft whoosh of her quirk and felt the shape of the night vision goggles as they were pressed into his hand and quickly strapped them on. The blurry darkness of the room switched to a vague green glow. Looking to Yaoyorozu to thank her he found her shape glowing in reds and oranges and took a step back, the stimulus making the pain in his head flare.

“They’re heat vision too,” she whispered, mistaking his reaction for surprise. Hitoshi gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and gestured for her to go first.

He fell back and let her lead the way, not trusting himself to not lead them into an ambush with the way his brain was, or rather wasn’t, working.

They crept along darkened corridors toward where they thought the ‘villains’ had holed up. Eventually they found the room with Snipe in along with the dummy hostage. The man was standing with his back to the wall with a view of the windows along the other side and of the doorway they were just outside of. Could the goggles that were part of his mask help him see in the dark too? Hitoshi couldn’t remember. Fuck, that was the kind of thing they should know. Hopefully Yaoyorozu did, but he didn’t dare ask, not with how close to the doorway they were.

As he was thinking she gave him a gesture to use his voice modulator and he nodded. Really he needed to cough again, but he would have to push past it. He fiddled with the buttons on the modulator, setting it to Cementoss’s low tone and inhaled around the tightness in his throat to project his voice louder.

“What happened to the lights?” he tried to say, Cementoss’s voice coming out weak but loud enough to be heard. But he didn’t get further than “What hap-” before he devolved into a coughing fit that had him doubling over. The noise resonated weirdly through the voice modulator, sounding tinny and crackling as he tried his best to minimise the volume, aware that he was giving away their position. He ripped the modulator down and buried his face in the capture weapon but neither seemed to do more than muffle it slightly.

Yaoyorozu should be taking the opportunity to attack, or run away leaving him to his own fuck up, but instead she was crouching next to him talking softly where he now realised he had fallen to his knees still coughing. Fuck, the pain in his lungs was getting worse and there was a distant awareness that he was shaking. He didn’t even know where Snipe was anymore. Had probably just taken the dummy and jumped out the window. Fuck they were going to fail, he was going to fail, he couldn’t fail, he coludn’t-

His thoughts started getting harder to parse and his view through the night vision goggles was starting to get worse. Like it was somehow getting darker. Could night vision goggles stop working?

He finally felt the coughing peeter off into raspy gasps and felt a strong arm around his shoulder to join Yaoyorozu’s fingers gripping onto his arm as he bent forward. Fuck he was tired. And suddenly it felt like there was no reason not to just go to sleep right here.

So, Hitoshi let go of the last threads of consciousness, and allowed the darkness to slip in further to claim him.

part 2

[lemonjelloarts]

On Call

[4k one-shot.]

Contrary to popular belief, sometimes Lunick and Solana DO get different mission assignments. But even when they're apart, they try to stay connected as best they can.

[Canon-compliant, Post-canon fic. Just a cute little thing I made when I thought about the fact that they would probably call each other each night they were apart when out on different temporary stations or assignments! I wanted to explore what their relationship with one another was like even when they're apart.]

Despite being Ringtown-based, there were most certainly times where Lunick and Solana found themselves on temporary assignments to the other bases in Fiore. It wasn’t incredibly often, but since Fiore Rangers tended to work more as a single collective unit rather than strictly segmented out by base, whenever one of them needed assistance, the others were quick to relinquish some of their own to go and help. And the Rangers didn’t mind: honestly, it could even sometimes be a little exciting to get to switch things up and work on a specific project outside of their normal Base’s operation.

At the moment, Wintown was in need of the extra manpower. An entryway to Panula Cave had crumbled in, and while it thankfully wasn’t necessarily a dire emergency, the fact that it was one of the only main means of connecting the settlement to the rest of the region made the situation up there with those of topmost priority. The work was just a bit too precarious to allow the citizens to help with, so Elita had made the decision to call out for backup just to have some extra hands in clearing out the ice and rocks in an efficient and timely manner. All in all, the temporary assignment was to be clocked in at about 4 days of physical labor; maybe a week at most. Each of the other three bases sent two or three of their Rangers to help out since they were all in relatively peacetimes, and Lunick just happened to be one of Ringtown’s selected.

Solana, however, was not.

When the call for backup had come in to Ringtown’s on-duty operator, Solana was out on an active mission already at the time, helping a couple who had gotten lost in Krokka Tunnel. And, being Solana, she had gone above and beyond in her assigned task by staying and chatting with them to make them feel more safe as they navigated all the way over to Fall City.

So needless to say, when she landed back on the top floor of her homebase via Dragonite Bus and saw her best friend waiting right there with his bags packed and ready to depart, she had a few questions.

“... Where?” She was a smart enough girl; a quick visual analysis of him and two of their colleagues packed and ready to go was enough confirmation to know he was assigned station somewhere else for the short term. She was clearly only asking one of the three, and their other coworkers had long learned by now to take a hint with the two of them, so they walked right past Solana and over to the dragon type Pokémon without answering. And just as expected, she continued, unphased. “How long?”

“Just a couple days,” Lunick promised her with a small smile, hoisting his duffel bag higher onto his shoulder. “Wintown needs some extra muscle clearing a rockfall in Panula. We’re just going to help alleviate.” He opened his arms to give her a chaste hug goodbye, and after the gears spun for a little bit to allow her to process the new information, she stepped forward into it, letting him envelop her in a casual embrace. “How was Krokka?” He asked, still interested in hearing about her mission too, even though he had his own to attend to.

Solana looked up at him and brushed some hair out of her face, nodding in the memory of the job well done. “It went really smooth. I was able to hand them off to Aria once we got to the City proper, which I also made sure to extend my condolences for.”

He laughed at her joke, untangling themselves from one another and gripping his bag’s strap again once more. “Never had any doubt. I’m sure they were grateful to have you!”

She gave him a sweet smile as thanks, before jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. “Well, the tundra calls, you know. And I gotta get downstairs to report back, anyways. You owe me Wintown hot chocolate mix when you come home.”

Lunick shook his head with a grin, rolling his eyes in amusement at the demand. “Your wish is my command,” he grumbled under his breath, before he gave her one last fleeting hug again and split up to head to the Dragonite Bus as he was supposed to.

Solana crossed over to the glass elevator and stepped into it with her Plusle, and Lunick could see the two of them waving goodbye before they disappeared from view, down to the Lobby floor.

She reported back to Spenser on the status of her escort mission before taking her lunch break, pulling out her styler and sending a text to him even though she knew he wouldn’t get service while up in the air.

[Already quieter without your loud mouth taking up all my break time. :) Stay safe!]

Pocketing her phone with a small smile to herself, she leaned forward and kissed Plusle on the top of his head, grateful to at least still have his company. It wasn’t as if she and Lunick had never been apart since their friendship began- quite the opposite, truthfully, with how often they had to go out on solo missions. But the hollow silence still hung over her just the same whenever he wasn’t there to fill it- with no one to tease or chat or laugh at the ridiculousness of, breaks that once felt to fly by dragged on, and she found herself falling into the bad habit of just going back to work during them. They brought the best out in balancing each other, and even though he had just left, Solana already found herself wishing he were on his way home again.

Lunick landed within another hour or so, and pretty immediately answered the message from her as soon as he was within range.

[and… touch base in wintown!!!]

[It is. SO COLD here, sol. Times like these I almost wish plusle and minun were fire types, you know.]

His response came quick enough, which meant either Solana wasn’t very busy, or she was taking a short break off the job to text him back. The notion of getting the notorious workaholic to stop just for him made his heart skip a beat, and he grinned widely, able to feel the snark in her reply from here.

[We’ve barely grown a tolerance to our nerves being shocked to distortion world and back. I don’t even think you even can build tolerance to being BURNT, lunick.]

Huffing, he quickly typed out a message back, already trailing behind their colleagues on the way to the Wintown base’s elevator.

[don’t you have a patrol to monitor? :] ]

[Don’t you have an Elita to report to?]

Quicker than him as ever, her response was near immediate, and she had a point. She won. As usual.

[.... touche. Call me later tonight? <3]

The little heart emote made Solana’s own practically leap out of her chest, and she snapped shut her styler to hold it close and let out a wistful sigh. The way he could make her feel so elated from something so simple was a talent of his own, and she had to fight to hide the smile unfurling on her lips as she returned to her patrol route.

Later that evening, once they had both been relieved of duty, they were right back at it. Pretty much any time they were off the clock, they were on the phone, catching up on each other's respective missions they’d missed and keeping one another up to date on how the different towns’ bases were doing as a whole. They did call that evening, and talked on video chat for multiple hours before bed. Lunick showed her around the guest dorm room he had been given; it was considerably smaller than their home dorms since it wasn’t intended for long term stays, but at least he got to room alone, and only had to share the bathroom with one other Ranger that the room ultimately connected to. Most important of all, it had thick blankets on the made bed, which Lunick was hasty to dive into and ruin the neatness of after a day of having been out in the biting cold. Solana made some sort of snide comment about how there was no way he would ever be able to pry himself out of them in the morning what with how stubborn it was even to get him out of normal bedding, and he stuck his tongue out at her and hung up the call as a punishment for the jab (only to call her right back again). Even when miles and miles apart, they managed to spend all evening with each other.

This became their routine: as it always was whenever they were separated for multiple overnights’ worth of time. In the mornings, Solana would text him an early riser jubilant greeting, and then call him later just to be sure he was up and moving in time for pre-shift briefing (and, secretly, just to start the day off by hearing his voice like she usually did). Lunick went to work in Panula Cave with the rest of the allocated squadron, and Solana held down fort back home, making sure all the Ringtown residents were properly all taken care of. They’d text over lunch breaks, head back to work for the afternoon, then call again after dinner time once they were back into their rooms for the night until it was time for at least Solana to settle in for bed.

It was a nice routine, but it was a taxing one nonetheless. Being able to talk in all their downtime was great, but it was still no substitute for actually getting to spend free time together like they did at home. And the longer the assignment went, the more the realization of that fact got amplified for the both of them.

“Arceus, could I go for some hot curry right now,” Lunick blew into his gloves that he’d yet to take off as he crossed into the Wintown Base commissary, smiling cordially at the friends he was grabbing dinner with. He tended to sit at a long table with Freddie and Chris from Wintown, Andi from Fall city, and Miyoko from back home at mealtimes, sometimes add or lose a few depending on the time of day. “Thank you Hiyoshi!” He very gratefully took the bowl of hot food from the Wintown Ranger that was on serving/kitchen duty that meal shift and sat down with his little group, all laughing and happily joking and recounting the day’s work.

“You know, I don’t mean to brag, but me and my Medicham were pulling all of the weight that Freddie was dragging behind,” the Fall City girl teased, which got an incredulous reaction from the Wintown Ranger in question.

“Did not!” He huffed, which made Lunick laugh. “If anything, all your guys’ complaining about the cold made you MUCH slower at shoveling than us!”

Before the navy haired guy could chip in on the messing with his friend, his styler began to beep loudly, interrupting the whole conversation.

His eyes lit up when he saw why, and he awkwardly jolted up to his feet, hitting his knees clumsily on the table. “I-I gotta go,” he excused himself with a small grin, but he was a fool if he could think he could get out of this scott free.

“You didn’t even eat your curry!” Freddie pointed out, gesturing to his steaming bowl, shaking his head in laughter at his friend’s antics. “You were just saying how badly you wanted it!”

Realizing he had a point, Lunick scrambled to try and collect the food tray up and balance his styler and winter hat on top of it, scooping up Minun. “I’ll take it with me…! I’ll bring the dish back and wash it, Ranger’s Honor!”

“What’s wrong…?” The white haired girl from Fall City was able to put together from the look on all the other’s faces that she was the only one out of the loop, and it was Silent Chris of all people who answered her question, even if blunt and gruffly.

“Hinata,” he mused, a crooked taunting smile peeking onto his lips. “Nothing’s wrong. Kazuki’s just excited.”

“Oh, yeah,” Freddie chimed back in, ready to prod at a moment's notice when it came to getting on his friends backs for the way they were head over heels yet horribly unaware. “I forgot you haven’t yet learned this. Let me fill you in: there’s only one thing in this world that makes Lunick light a fire under it and get motivated like that, and her name is Solana.” The Ringtown Ranger in question had chosen not to comment on all that was unfolding around him, instead making sure he had everything to carry up to his room for the evening before turning without so much as a parting goodbye from the group as his ringtone still sliced through the conversation intermittently. “Hey, tell your girlfriend we say hi at least, would ya?” The skinnier of the two Wintown Rangers called out to Lunick as he left in a haste, which got him an unsavory gesture for the comment in return. But Freddie just snickered, and Lunick felt his cheeks redden from another reason besides the cold wind that had whipped against him all day as he immediately accepted the call on its last ring the second he was out in the hallway.

“Hey, Sol!” He greeted nearly out of breath, jamming his elbow into the up button on the Base’s elevator.

“...Did I interrupt something?” She was perceptive as ever, and happy to accommodate. “I can call you back later! It’s no big deal!”

“Nah!” He reassured, perhaps a little too quickly to be believable, and headed up to his temporary room, letting himself and his Pokémon inside before shutting the door behind him. “We went late today. I actually just got back.” He set the tray down on the little bedside table and switched the call to video chat, propping her up against his water bottle so he could freely sit on his bed and have his dinner as he talked to her.

“...You’re eating!” She pointed out, and while he knew what she meant, he couldn’t resist being a smart alec about it.

“Yeah, astute observation there, Sunshine. I’m hungry. That’s typically how it goes!”

Scrunching her nose at the remark, she shook her head. She was already showered and changed into around-the-base clothes, clearly having gotten home much earlier than he did. “No! You-! Shouldn’t you be down at the Caf? Is that what I interrupted? You didn’t have to drop everything just to answer me!”

Lunick shrugged, shedding his outer jacket and tossing it haphazardly on the floor before shoving his long sleeves back halfway up his forearms. He wasn’t used to wearing so much clothing all the time, and even though he’s only been here a few days, he couldn’t wait to get back to Ringtown’s climate. “I’d rather get to talk to you, anyways. Your time’s more important to me.”

It was such a simple statement, but it most certainly silenced Solana to her core, and he found great pride in the flustered look on her face. She let him finish his dinner without making him answer too many other questions, and he eventually shifted to laying in bed instead, holding the phone in front of him as they caught each other up for the day. Solana had apparently gotten to reconnect with the old Venusaur that lived tucked away in one of the hidden leafy grottos of Lyra Forest for help with controlling some Paras in the area, which was a rare treat. Lunick passed along the hellos of all their colleagues who missed her, and tactfully omitted the other things they had to add to that comment.

The conversation eventually settled, simmering down into a stretch of comfortable silences that just consisted of the two of them smiling like idiots at the image of the other depicted on their screen. It was so nice to get to see one another despite the time spent apart, and something about the way they both tended to end up just laying in bed, uncaring about whether or not it was an unflattering angle, just made this time together feel all the more warm, fuzzy, and intimate.

“Gh-! ACK!” Lunick dropped his styler, and it fell tumbling off the side of the bed, which for some reason sparked the desire to play within Minun. She just saw something moving fast and her mind immediately jumped to toy, so she swatted at it with her little blue paw despite her partner’s pleas. “Minun!! No!! Gimme her back-!”

Solana was practically rolling in her fit of giggles, which only got all the funnier as her screen went from blank ceiling to an intense closeup of Minun’s twitchy little nose as she sniffed the camera. “Hi, Minun,” the teal haired girl managed to coo adoringly through her laughter. “Yes, hi sweetheart. You got me. You sniffed me up real good! Can you do me a favor, and give me back to your dada?”

Minun seemed to listen to ‘mom’s wishes much more than ‘dad’s, because she fumbled to try and grasp the device upright, and Lunick was able to reach over the side of the bed and pluck it right out of her fuzzy little paws. “Thannnnnk you!” He sung as he took the styler back, before holding out the same arm again for his Pokémon to crawl up and come snuggle back into the bed with him. “She’s going a little nutso without Plusle, you know. She misses him.”

There was a short silence that followed after, and her ruby red eyes stared at him so intently that he hoped he hadn’t said anything wrong. But after a moment, she spoke up, more serious than ever, to clarify.

“... I miss you.”

They’d been telling each other such for the past few days, but usually it was fleeting, and part of their goodbyes to conversations. This admission felt so much more heavy leaded, so real, that Lunick physically felt his throat ball up at the way her tone was suddenly so somber. It was clearly something she’d been thinking about a lot lately, and a side of herself that she never showed to anyone else, and that strangled him in more ways than one.

“I miss you too, Solana.” Lunick clarified, his eyes growing softer as he looked at her with a small smile. “I can’t wait to be back with you.”

“When do you come home?” She almost sounded like a pouting little kid, but she was unfiltered and pure with her expression. She didn’t have to hold anything back, didn’t have to look strong for him. She could just be herself. “I really, really miss you… I know it’s only been a couple days, but it’s really not the same without you here.”

“It should only be another day or two,” he promised, propping himself up on one elbow. The distance was killing him, too, especially right now, when every instinct in his body was telling him to hold her and tell her it would be alright. “We’re making really good progress on clearing the cave. But I think about how I wish you were there with me to make it more tolerable just about every second of the day.”

She seemed to like that answer, and that eased and rattled his heart all at the same time. “...You say that like I wouldn’t just make you compete with me over arbitrary things like who can clear a bigger ice pile,” she commented with a tiny giggle, and it was just about the most endearing thing in the world.

“Exactly,” he spoke without missing a beat, “and beating you at said ice pile challenge would make me feel good, and therefore, more tolerable.”

She outright laughed at that, and it was beautiful to see her smile even when her tone was otherwise melancholy. “You wish.”

He just hummed with a smile in response, and before he could even open his mouth to segway into the fact that it was getting late, she beat him to it.

“Hey Lunick…?” Her voice was small again, and he could tell there was a favor attached to the backend of this question. And whatever it was, he was certain he’d do it for her.

“Yeah, Sol?”

Solana broke her eye contact with him, hugging her Plusle close for comfort. “Would you… Be okay with plugging your styler in to charge and leaving the video call open tonight?” She was timid in her asking, looking back up at the camera with big Deerling eyes. “It gets so lonely after we have to hang up each night, and I… Sometimes it’s hard to sleep, too. I think I’d just feel a lot better knowing you’re right there.”

Lunick’s heart just about ripped out of his chest, shattered, then glued itself back together again as he listened. It was like a dream come true and a worst nightmare all at the same time; she wanted him, more than she had let on. But all he could do to help was sit, trapped on the phone through a call that could drop any minute the cell signal decided to give out. He wished he could be there. And in a few nights when he could, he silently vowed to himself he would do everything to coddle her as much as she damn pleased.

“Of course, Solana,” he breathed out laboriously, eyebrows upturning in his concern for her. “So long as you’re okay with my obnoxious snoring.” He softballed to try and lighten her mood, and it at least worked a little, based on the way her teeth were peeking out in a small smile.

“I actually think I may welcome your obnoxious snoring,” she parried, pushing some hair back out of her face as her head hit the pillow again. “It’ll make it feel almost like you really are here.”

“And soon, I will be,” he reminded her, pulling the blankets up to his chin. “Do you want to try and sleep now, Sol? I do really think it would be good for you, especially if you haven’t been sleeping well the past few nights.”

She nodded meekly, and gave him a gaze he couldn’t quite read, but knew was at least positive. “You sure? I won’t wake you up in the morning…?”

“Honey, I pride myself on having grown immune to you even trying to wake me up in the morning.” He spoke with some sass to make her laugh, and she did. “Put some respect on my name.”

“Don’t make it a challenge,” his best friend was quick to warn, another smile on her lips as she reached over for the light switch. “Thank you, Lunick. You getting some rest, too?”

He sighed happily at her tone’s flip back to adoration, feeling elated at having such utter care showered on him. “I will. I promise. Goodnight, Sunshine. I hope you have sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Lunick,” she mumbled back sweetly, before her screen went dark with her shutting off the light. Lunick did as told and plugged in the device before propping it up haphazardly on the pillow, almost as if she really were laying there beside him. He let out a long exhale as he rolled onto his back, trying to stay quiet as to not disturb her while his mind ran a mile a minute, recapping everything about their conversation that had just transpired. He desperately hoped he got to be dismissed tomorrow, if for nothing else but to get to hug her once he got home.

“...I’ll be home soon,” he promised to the dark phone via whisper, turning his head to look over at it even though he knew there’d be no reply.

All that he got back was the soft sound of leveled breathing paired with the tiniest of wheezy snores. She had successfully fallen asleep, after all. And that was all he needed to crack into the widest of smiles, burying his face in the blankets so he could rest with her.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

I would like a sam x reader fic 🥺 ive been looking for new ones recently so please if you don't mind

This is romantic but you could always just ignore the kissing part and take it as platonic if you would like seeing as everything that happens could be platonic!

You and Sam are cuddling one day, you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair and down his neck. He shivers and giggles “Ah! Ahaha don’t!” You raise an eyebrow and sit up looking at Sam with a big smile “Hold on is your neck sensitive?” You don’t even bother trying to say the word seeing as it would be of no use. He blushes a light red as he says “Well yea... I suppose it kinda is...” You awe and run your nails over his neck again causing for for more giggles to pour out! “Hahahaha y/n! Noooo!” He reaches out to your neck in an attempt to get the upper hand but is rather surprised when you simply carry on unphased. After a few more seconds though he gently grabs your hand and after his giggles stop he asks “Hold on... is your neck not ticklish!?” You shake your head “No,never has been” His eyes widen slightly “No way you’re joking!”

You shrug and take your hand out of his and make sure your neck is fully exposed “Go on try it” And so he does,he spiders,wiggles,scratches and even leaves a few raspberries and kisses, all to no response... “It really isn’t” You giggle slightly and shrug “I told you so” He shakes his head and says “You must be some kind of wizard” You again burst into giggles “I guess I am” He tries one more time but this time instead of staying just at your neck his fingers travel down to your back... and that that is where the reactions begin to appear! You shiver and giggles begin to slip out “AH hahahaha ssshahhahahmmmm!” Sam smiles I’m triumph as he says “HA! At least I have this spot I can hold over you” He stops and you say “What do you mean?” he says “what I mean is my back isn’t ticklish” You internally feel yours self shiver at the word and so then you say “no way shut up” and Sam laughs a bit and says “go on try it”

and so you lightly glare at him as you tickle his back and true to his word he has no reaction the only time he even barely moves is when you go up towards his neck or go near his sides “wow maybe you’re a wizard too” and he giggles and turns back to you saying “Well I guess that makes us a pair of wizards then” He then grabs you so you’re laying down in his arms and smiles mischievously before saying “So is my little wizard ticklish anywhere else?” Your eyes widen as you squirm a little bit and say “N-no your little wizard is not t-ti-ti.... sensitive anywhere else” and so he raises an eyebrow before saying “Really? Because I’d think differently what with how you can’t even say the word and you’re giggling right now” You’re confused but before you’re able to say anything you’re cut off by his fingers wiggling on your sides making for you to burst into small giggles “hehehahahahha shahahahhahammmm” and he smiles as he says “See I knew you were lying to me and I didn’t even have to use my wizard powers!” “hehehahahsshhhuuttt uuuppp” he scoffs as a pout forms on his face as he says “Hey that’s mean” Through your giggles you say “Yoouuurrr mmhehehahannn ffooohhoorrr ttthehehahahsssiiinngg!” Sam raises an eyebrow “oh really now?” You nod giggling and he says “I’ll show you mean!” And so he squeezes your sides as he says “tickle tickle tickle dawww you’re just so ticklish aren’t you my little wizard!”

Your blush is hecka bright red, it’s even spreading to your ears as you begin lightly laughing and covering your face completely “SSAHAHAHHhAHAHAHAHAhhhmmmmm plllehehehaHAHAHAHAheheheheheHEHEHsssssHEHEHEH” he has the brightest smile as he continues on “You’re so adorable... and it’s obvious you like this...” suddenly an idea pops into his head and he says “hhmmm I wonder what would happen if I...” and so then he lifts your shirt as he leans down and blows a big raspberry right on the middle of your stomach! You lose it squealing and full blown laughing.. So he blows more and more varying in big and small, within like a minute or two you finally have to ask him to stop, and he does immediately as soon as the words come out of your mouth...

You’re left there giggling residually,he tries to rub the phantom tickles away but you squeak and giggle more lightly pushing his hands away “sshahahahmmmm noohho!” And he softens even more than he already had as he giggles a bit and apologizes “I’m sohohorrryy honey” eventually you finally get calmed down and say “it’s okay” You smile lightly cupping his cheek and his smile widens as he says “You really are adorable you know? Not even denying that you liked it” You roll your eyes lightly hitting his arm “shut up nerd” Sam lightly pokes your side in warning “hey don’t tell me to shut up when I’m being nice to you” You jump biting back a squeak as you apologize again and he smiles before pulling you back in for more cuddles.. You lightly lock lips for a few seconds before some of the guys call inviting you both to come hang out and so you do and of course Sam deciding to be cheeky brings up your secret and of course Sapnap and dream’s eyes sparkled beyond belief with mischief and excitement... You could tell you were definitely in for a good wrecking next time you all were to hang out...

[thegreatestofheck]

Not So Unrequited ⚜ JJ Maybank ⚜

request - (from Anon)  JJ and the reader arguing about anything and he’s like I Love you and she’s begging him not to say it because she doesn’t think she can be loved. warnings - swearing (lots and lots your welcome), steaminess,  synopsis - in the middle of an argument with your best friend, he says something to you that you had never wanted to hear. 

(thank you for this, anon, I love it! I hope this is what you wanted, I made it a lil steamy because- well, I have no excuse. Threw a little bit of body positivity in there because everyone is beautiful, and you all deserve to know that.)

“God, you’re such an idiot,” Kie sighed, pressing an ice pack against JJ’s cheek. “She’s gonna be pissed.” 

JJ rolled his eyes, letting Kie baby him because it made the both of them feel a little bit better. He opened his mouth to say something when the door to the Chateau opened. 

He had expected it to fly open with a flurry followed by the hurricane that was y/n. But when it creaked slowly, barely opening enough for you to slide inside, both Kie and JJ froze. JJ flicked his gaze away from Kie and met yours. 

A chill ran down his spine at the look in your eye. Silent as you were, everything that you weren’t saying was storming behind your eyes. Your dead calm was more terrifying than your raging storm. 

You walked into the dark Chateau and leaned yourself up against the wall, crossing your arms. Tension shrouded the room. Kie felt like she had stepped in the middle of a show down, her movements on JJ’s bruised knuckles short and awkward. JJ knew he was about to get his ass handed to him in a verbal beat down and he wasn’t really in the mood for it right now. 

And you, you were pissed off. Beyond pissed off. 

Kie stood slowly, setting her cleaning supplies off to the side. She glanced quickly over at you, but your gaze was fixed solely on the blond boy currently nursing a bruised cheekbone. With a sigh, Kie put a hand on JJ’s shoulder. 

“Good luck,” she whispered before making a quick break for the door. JJ grunted in response.

The tension in the room increased ten times when Kie left. JJ refused to meet your gaze again, still holding the ice pack to his face. 

“Why are the lights off?” you asked, breaking through the silence. 

“Hurts my head,” JJ mumbled. You resisted the urge to sigh dramatically. 

“Cause you have a concussion. That’s what you get for getting in a 3-on-1 fight.” 

JJ tightened his jaw and slouched farther in his seat, dropping his hands into his lap. You finally let out that sigh you had been fighting back. Pushing yourself off of the wall, you crossed the room and lowered yourself to the floor in front of JJ’s feet. He watched you carefully with wide, curious eyes, just waiting for you to explode.

But you didn’t.

You lifted your hand slowly and took the ice pack from his hand and gently pressed it back against his swollen face. His breath hitched in his throat from the sudden cold. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

Being so close to you made him freeze, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. It made him want to throw up. He wondered why people liked falling in love if this was how it felt. Or maybe this was only what an unrequited love felt like. 

“You are a fucking idiot for taking those guys on like that,” you said, your voice quiet but shaking. 

“They were dicks,” JJ replied. He looked away from you as you cradled the ice pack in your hand. 

“You can’t fight every dick in the world, Jay.” 

“But I can fight every dick who treats you like shit.” 

You’re calmness started to quake, threatening to become something far more wild. 

“I don’t need you to defend me,” you told him, setting your jaw to keep your anger at bay. He had been trying to help, after all. JJ scoffed and slouched even farther. You pulled the ice pack away and scowled. “What, you think I need you to fight my own battles?” 

“You can but you don’t,” JJ snapped. “You let them harass you and call you names. You let them get away with it.” 

“I don’t let anyone do anything. I just don’t justify their taunting with a response. They’re not worth my time.” Your eyes narrowed at JJ. It had always been this way. Someone said anything bad about you and he would throw himself into a fight instantly, even if you were unphased. You just wondered why in the hell he thought that meant he should take it into his own hands. “If they’re not worth my time they’re sure as hell not worth you getting all bloodied up for.” 

“God, you do this every time.” JJ pushed himself up out of the chair and stepped past you. You glowered at him as he paced toward the other side of the room. Rising from you ground, you couldn’t bite back your irritated response. 

“Every time you do something stupid? Yeah, I’m sorry for caring about your sorry ass. Newsflash, jerk face, but I don’t like seeing you get beat up. It’s not fun, for any of us.” 

JJ ran his hands through his hair, but he didn’t say anything, which only fueled your fire even more. You crossed your arms and your glower turned into a full glare. 

“Why do you insist on fighting every goddamn prick who has to run their mouth?” You continued. “What’s so important that you have to throw yourself into every fight? Why can’t you just leave it be?” 

He still didn’t respond, but he turned his back on you as his face went red. 

“Huh? Are you listening to me? Jay, why-”

“Because I love you, goddammit!” JJ whirled around to face you, his eyes wide, his hair a mess, his breathing ragged. You stiffened, the anger in your chest vanishing like a painful mist. 

“What?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the shock evident in your face. JJ’s face fell in desperation, dropping his hands back to his side. 

“I love you.” He said it again, much more desperate, but with no less emotion. JJ almost smiled. He took one short step toward you and you took one back, your eyes dropping to the ground. JJ’s smile fell. 

“Well, stop it,” was all you could find to say, your voice still quiet. 

“What?” You hated to hear the heartbreak in his voice, but it was better that you break his heart now than ten years down the road. 

“Just, stop!” Your hands trembled at your sides. 

“Stop what? Stop loving you? I tried that already and it didn’t work.” You crossed your arms over your stomach and turned your face away from him. “Say something, please. Anything.” 

“I don’t even know what love is, JJ. How could you possibly know?” You asked, still not looking at him. He shrugged his shoulders, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“All I know is that every time I’m around you, I want to be holding you and my stomach gets all tied up in knots. That I miss you whenever you’re no around. That whenever I see you with another guy, I want to tear his fucking throat out. That it fucking breaks my heart when you cry. That I would burn down the entire world before I let anyone hurt you.” 

You finally looked up, your heart beating wildly in your chest. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, not now, not ever. You were supposed to just be friends. It was better that way. 

“What happens when those feelings go away, huh?” You asked, nose burning and eyes brimming with tears. “I say I love you back and we start dating and we get married and have kids and then what happens when you don’t have those feelings anymore and you wake up some day and you don’t love me anymore, what fucking then, JJ?” 

You sounded angrier than you felt. You felt terrified, like an animal trapped in a cage, the walls closing in tighter and tighter around you, suffocating you. 

“We’re not your parents, y/n.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they said the same exact thing when they were our age.” Bitterness laced your every word. Sure, maybe you had been talking about your own parents, but he didn’t have to actually mention them. It just made the sting all the more real. 

Your dad had up and left when you were 12, leaving you with a mother whose heart was broken beyond repair and a 4 year old sister to take care of. You hadn’t believed in love from that day on. And JJ knew this, so why was he throwing it on you now? Why was he putting you through this when he knew damn well what it meant to you? 

“You can’t,” you said, giving your head a shake and praying that the tears wouldn’t fall. “You can’t. Not me.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m fucked up, JJ.”

“Everybody’s fucked up.” 

“I’m especially fucked up.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” There was real anger in his voice, but not anger directed at you. He was angry that the world was so messed up that it had convinced you that you didn’t deserve to be loved. 

And it shook you to the core. 

“I’ve kept my damn mouth shut about this for so long, y/n.” His voice broke painfully. He looked exhausted. You wanted to cross the room and pull him into your arms and wipe the tears from his eyes because if he wasn’t saying the words he was saying now, that’s what you would have done. “Didn’t even tell the Pogues. I kept it to myself because I knew what it meant to you but you’ve gotta know because I can’t do this anymore.” 

“What about all those....all those girls from the parties?” You crossed your arms as your mouth ran dry, grasping for straws. JJ scowled, looking more hurt than ever. 

“They were nothing.” 

“Those girls aren’t nothing, JJ. They’re people.” 

“I meant they were nothing to me. They were just...distractions.” 

“From me?” You said the words like a breath, your stomach twisting as you did so. Because the more JJ spoke about what he was feeling, the more you recognized them as a mirror of your own. 

“Yeah. From you.” You felt yourself fall still again, but it wasn’t that frozen stillness from fear. It was a calm that washed over you and you didn’t know why. “Because every time I saw you sneaking off with one of those guys I just-” 

JJ’s words fell off as you took one small step toward him. As soon as that first step was taken, you couldn’t stop yourself from crossing the room until you were standing right in front of him, chest to chest. 

He looked down at his, his lips parted. Your eyes flitted from his down toward his mouth before venturing back up to meet his stare once again. 

“Maybe....” You paused, glancing down again. “Maybe we aren’t our parents.” 

JJ’s eyes were fixated on your lips, a breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t going to make the first move, you knew that, yet you weren’t sure you had the strength to break what was left of your walls. You wanted him to do it for you, but he wouldn’t want to push you any farther than he already had. 

Your stomach was already tangled into knots even before you stood on your toes. JJ’s eyes were closed even before you pressed your lips to his. Those knots detangled into butterflies and exploded throughout your bones. 

The kiss was a ghost of a thing. At least, it was at first. Because once the dam was breached, the water all came rushing out with a startling force. 

Your hands left your sides and found their place tangled in his hair, pulling him down closer to you. He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as the desire raged within him. 

“Are you sure about this?” He whispered, his eyes opening just a tad. You gave yourself one chance to breathe and second guess yourself. “Because once I have you, there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you go.” 

You pulled one of your hands out of his hair and rested it against his cheek, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. You chewed on the inside of your cheek before giving a short nod of your head. 

“This is what I want,” you told him. “I just want you.” 

That was all the permission that JJ needed. All of his hesitation was gone, vanished into thin air. Tucking his hand behind your neck, he put his lips right back onto yours with a fire that was just waiting to burst forth. 

You thought you had been control when you broke the dam, but JJ took no time in proving you wrong. With one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your hip, he pushed you back toward the wall. 

What little breath remained in your lungs was sucked away as your back hit the wall. Months of tension and deep rooted desire hit a boiling point as your lips found a rhythm with his. Your fingers left his hair to tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. Any space between you was too much. You needed his skin against yours, you needed to take his heat for your own. You needed him and you were no longer afraid to admit it, at least to yourself. 

JJ pinned you to the wall, his hips pressed up against yours. His hand shifted from behind your neck to the front, hanging loosely around the base of your neck just to keep you steady. His other hand found it’s way under the loose fabric of your shirt, kneading at your skin with his palm.  

You let out your first ungodly sound of the night, muffled only by JJ’s lips. You felt him smile so you pulled back. 

“Careful,” you murmured, eyes still closed. But JJ’s grin persisted even as he pressed butterfly kisses against your cheek, trailing past your jaw and finding rest against your neck. 

“Shit,” you breathed as his tongue grazed across your skin, his teeth pulling gently here and there. He started to work his hand farther up your shirt and you had to pressed your hands against the wall to keep yourself from falling. 

“All those other boys didn’t make you feel like this, did they?” JJ whispered against your skin. His breath was warm and sent ripples down your spine. You popped one eye open to glower at him. 

“Fuck you,” you breathed as he smiled against you. His hand at the base of your throat tightened ever so slightly and your glower deepened. 

“Was that a no?” 

“I don’t play that way, Maybank,” you ground out through your teeth. 

“Then how do you play?” 

You pushed him away from you and for a moment a look of hurt crossed his face. But when you grabbed hold of the bottom of your shirt, never breaking eye contact as you pulled it off and discarded it on the floor, a grin replaced that fear. You reached out for him, pulling him back in. 

Both of his hands went for your shoulders before tracing the curve of your body all the way down to the waistband of your shorts. You nipped at his lower lip, tugging gently, you hands holding his head just where you wanted. 

“Damn, y/n.” There was that damn smirk still. You wondered what it would take to wipe it off his face. His hands worked at the zipper of your shorts, tugging on the hem before you even realized he had them unbuttoned. 

“You really don’t waste any time, do you?” You asked him. Instead of responding, he pressed a kiss against your neck. Part of you wished he would stay there again. But then he kissed your collarbone and then he was lowering him self slowly, pressing his lips to the skin beneath your breasts, then just below your bra. 

You were pretty sure no boy had ever done anything like this before. You weren’t ever one to take your time with them because, after all, they were just a poor replacement for who you really wanted. But the attention that JJ gave your body as he continued his trail of kisses down your stomach was enough to make your eyes roll toward the back of your head. 

He was on his knees in front of you, tantalizing, as he pulled your shorts down as slowly as he could. He kissed your thighs once they were exposed as he pulled the shorts the rest of the way down. You were going to simply step out of them when he put on hand on your calf and the other just under your knee. 

“What are you doing?” You asked with an almost nervous laugh. JJ looked up at you as he started to lift your leg. A smile pulled at his lips. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time to have you,” he mused. “And I’m not wasting a second of it. 

He rested your foot against his shoulder and gave the side of your knee the smallest, most butterfly inducing kiss. You heaved out a breath and leaned your head back against the wall as JJ continued to kiss your inner thigh. His hands kept you steady. You had never felt more grounded. Your toes curled, fingers tensing. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, as if it was just a spoken thought. You lifted your head and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

He looked back up at you a look somewhere between concern and amusement. 

“You’re beautiful.”

You moved your leg off of his shoulder and joined him on your knees. For a reason you didn’t know, your eyes swam with tears. His smile was gone but there was something far deeper in his eyes that a smile couldn’t properly communicate in that moment. 

You took his hands in yours and pressed his bruised knuckles to your lips. When you met his eyes again, you gave a small shake of your head, the tears threatening to overflow. 

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” you whispered, trying to offer some kind of explanation for your strange actions. JJ looked taken aback. 

“Bullshit.”

“No, JJ, I’m serious. You’re the first person-” Your voice broke. 

“Is that why you didn’t believe me when I told you I loved you?” Your head fell and the tears you had been feeling started to fall from your eyes. He hooked his finger underneath your chin and moved your face to look back at his. “Hey, you’re beautiful, alright? And I’ll say it a million times until you believe me.” 

You nodded, sniffling as you tried to hide your embarrassing tears from him. He leaned forward and kissed both of you cheeks. You let out a small laugh as he pulled away. 

“Sorry to ruin the mood,” you said, still holding one of his hands. That look returned to JJ’s eyes, the hungry one, as he looked down at the clothes you were left in, or lack thereof. 

“Nothing’s ruined,” he said. “I’m still getting you in that bed.” 

You wiped away what was left of your tears and felt a smile of your own pull at your lips. 

“What are you waiting for then?” 

                                                                ***

Pope grumbled angrily as he climbed into the van, Kie sliding into the front seat. 

“I don’t see why they had to kick us out,” he said, plopping down into one of the seats. 

“I don’t think we were really kicked out, per say,” said John B up front with a slight smirk. “You were the last one in there, Kie, what happened exactly? One minute they’re screaming at each other and the next....” 

Kie shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on the road as she started the car. 

“Guess they just reached their breaking point.” 

“I think that bed is going to reach it’s breaking point,” Pope huffed. “I mean, couldn’t they wait until they were alone to start going at each other?” 

Kie rolled her eyes and John B just laughed. 

“Give it until the morning. I’m sure they’ll pretend like it never happened,” John B said with a sigh. 

“Are you kidding?” Kie looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Those two have been waiting to tear each other’s clothes off for months.”

“Really?” Pope and John B both said at the same time. Kie laughed and looked back to the road. 

“You boys are so clueless.”

“Damn,” Pope breathed. “And they didn’t tell us?”

“He’s afraid of commitment and she’s got abandonment issues, of course they waited this long.” 

“Kie, when did you become a goddamn genius?” 

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.” 

The van rattled down the road, the three friends laughing together. 

                                                           ***

JJ’s arms curled around your stomach, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He slept softly, breathing gently through his nose. Every now and again, he would mumble something, his lips grazing against your exposed skin. 

But you were wide awake. You ran your fingers aimlessly up and down his arms, relishing in the feeling of his skin still against yours. 

He hadn’t stopped telling you you were beautiful since he first said it. Every chance he got, the words would pass his lips. He probably said it more times than anything else, other than “shit” and “fuck”, which you loved to hear almost just as much. Almost. 

When he flopped down next to you, sweaty, breathless, and still grinning like an idiot, he wrapped his arms around you and said it one last time, whispering it into your ear before he fell asleep. 

And you believed him every time. 

If he had been any other boy, this was the time when you would have scurried out of bed, collected your clothes, and made a break for it. But you stayed. There was no where you would rather be than here, cradled in the arms of the boy who loved you. The boy that you loved. 

You moved slowly, carefully, turning until you faced him. JJ groaned quietly, shifting his head against the pillow, but he didn’t wake. You felt yourself smile again at the sight of him. That stupid grin was finally gone from his face. Now you found that you were missing it. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice quieter than the breeze that blew the curtain of the window above you. You tucked your head under his chin and he pulled you in tighter. A smile graced your lips. 

Even if he didn’t hear you, it was good to say aloud. Maybe now you could say it when he was awake. Maybe someday. Maybe not today, but someday. That thought was enough to sing you to sleep. 

JJ opened a single eye and looked down at you, unable to keep his smile at bay any longer. You had fallen asleep quickly, but he didn’t care. You didn’t need to know he heard you. He would deal with that in the morning. For now, he just let you sleep. 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

When A Bird Dies

Pair: Alcina/Mia

Summary: After Mother Miranda’s death, Alcina feels lost. She uses wine to cope and Mia tries to help her find a purpose.

AN: This one shot was inspired by Rosegarden Funeral Party’s Once In A While. It’s my first time writing Mia so apologies if it’s somewhat OOC. Ngl I was kind of just typing here and hoping for the best xD

Sometimes when she gets insecure, she gets drunk. And the lady is a woefully sloppy and unrefined drunk. Sometimes she drinks when she is sad. Mia doesn’t understand why she does this, the drinks only heighten her sorrow and leave her a sobbing mess.

On these nights, Mia wishes that she could carry the lady to bed. Lift her right off her feet and tuck her in. Perhaps rub her back until she comes back to herself. Her poised and fierce self. Back to the Alcina who speaks of skinning men alive and tasting their delectable blood.

But sometimes, the woman curled up and sobbing on the floor isn’t of any intrigue to Mia. She is a pitiful thing. And sometimes a disgusting sniveling thing. Really, Mia thinks that she ought to take the woman’s wine from her. Sometimes she grows tired of what it can reduce Dimitrescu to.

“You would do this in front of your daughters?” Mia asks.

“My daughters aren’t here.”

“Yes, they’re off fetching and bedding maidens.” She comments dryly. Sometimes bitterness gets the best of her. Sometimes she finds herself slipping and lapsing into something that she isn’t proud of, not even slightly. Maybe the woman in front of her is wearing off on her. Maybe it is this village infecting her just as swiftly as the mold.

“How dare you?” Lady Dimitrescu growls. She wipes her eyes, smearing mascara and foundation. Her face is twisted into a furious, almost feral snarl. Double so with crimson of blood-wine staining her teeth. “Talk about my daughters like that…” she slurs. “I’ve never said an ill word of that Rose.”

She could slap the woman. She very well should. Dimitrescu knows well that Rose is a subject not to be spoken of. Even years later it still stings to think of having to let the baby go. To think of having to let Ethan go. To have watched them make their way out of the village with only a glance back.

To know that the mold has infected and warped her so beyond repair that she had to let the two of them go and remain here amid the other freaks and monsters. And only this one, this sorry drunk had taken pity on her. Mia supposes that calling her a drunk is a bit of a stretch. She only drinks when she thinks. And lately she has been doing a lot of thinking. She says that she thinks until her head hurts. Undoubtedly she misses Mother Miranda, the wretched beast.

Without Mother Miranda she is both stronger and weaker. She is bolder, freer. Bolder, freer, and sadder. Though sometimes Mia thinks that it is merely a melodrama, that the mutant just wants attention. And with nothing better to do, Mia gives it to the woman. Most of the time she only dimly recalls having received any affection at all.

And maybe it is her maternal side that does the talking and moving. Her maternal side that compels her to help the tall lady to her unsteady feet. “You’re going to have to stop this.” Mia sighs. “You’re a lot stronger than this.”

.oOo.

Alcina shakes her head. These days she doesn’t feel much like that. Between Mother Miranda’s great fall and her own at the hands of Ethan Winters, she has found herself feeling rather inadequate.

Her weakness now runs so deep that she can’t even bring herself to go through with her vengeance. To drive a claw through one end of Mia and out the other and deliver the corpse straight to her husband and his wretched daughter.

Right now her head hurts too much to stand, let alone skewer a woman. And even if she had the ability she is coming to find that she has quite a soft spot for Mia. To think that she has fallen so low that she finds herself fancying a human. She is lucky that her daughters aren’t here to see this. She resents it with a fury, but Mia is right. She needs to get herself together.

“Sit with me?” She pats a spot on her lap. The woman hesitates. “Sit with me.” She still hesitates but climbs into her lap all the same.  “You know that I was thinking of bleeding you out? I was going to chain you to the ceiling just the way I did your husband.” She pauses, trying to detect fear or hatred on the woman’s face. It remains blank. Impassive and unphased. “I was going to taste your blood on my tongue, surely it tastes better than your husband’s. Woman…” she leans closer, hovers her lips over Mia’s exposed neck. “Women taste better. Sweeter, richer. They aren’t so dirty and stale.”

“And how does your blood taste, Lady Dimitrescu?”

She furrows her brows, admittedly, the question has thrown her. “My blood…”

“I don’t bleed.”

“Everyone bleeds, Lady Dimitrescu.” Mia seems to study her face. “You just bleed differently. I imagine that your blood tastes like wine. You drink enough of it.”

Her face colors. It helps her case very little that she is already quite tipsy. Tipsy and absurdly emotional. She understands why Mia isn’t quite so intimidated by her today. “I do not bleed.” She repeats again.

“You would hemorrhage if your daughters died. Mother Miranda died and look at you...you’re bleeding all over the place.” She reaches up and wipes a tear from Alcina’s eye. “It’s depressing and fascinating to watch.” She pauses. “I’ve looked after a mutant before. Eveline. The infected definitely bleed. The hurt and cry just the way we do. You wouldn’t even know that some of them are mutated.”

Alcina cringes, “don’t you dare compare me to…”

“Humans?” Mia asks. “You were human once.”

“That...that was a very long time ago.” And there is not one part of her that wishes to return to that feeble, delicate state. “You’d do well not to bring it up again.” Where did she put the wine bottle? But the words have already well and settled upon her, she doesn’t think that more wine can drive them out this time.

Evidently she isn’t sure what to do. Isn’t sure that she has a purpose at all anymore. Donna has her dolls and Karl has his machines. She never thought that she would find herself near the same level as Salvatore--confused and lost.

She could continue to export her wines, she supposes. But that has lost its charm now that Mother Miranda won’t be around to stop in for a taste. To dully express a fondness for the drinks.

She has her girls but they have their own lives to live and now that the weather is warming, they are out and about more often.

“What shall I do, Mia?” She murmurs.

Mia’s face softens and the woman brings a hand to her cheek. Her hand is somewhat cold but the gesture has a warmth to make up for it. “About what? Your startling bloodlust?”

“What shall I do now that Mother Miranda is gone?”

“First you can put down the bottle.” She takes it right from Alcina’s hands and puts it aside. “And then you can start living your own life again. Your way.”

She isn’t sure that she remembers how.

“You used to enjoy jazz, yes?”

“Quite well.” She nods. And she still enjoys digging out an old record every now and then.

“Well, why don’t you put a record on, we can have dinner, and discuss how to get you back into the music industry.”

“I don’t believe that I fit into the scene anymore.” And she means it most literally.

“That’s what we’ll be talking about. I’d love to get out of this village every now and again. Perhaps you can do the singing and I can do some lip syncing?”

It isn’t such a horrid plan. If nothing else, it gives her something to fantasize about. Something to look forward to. And perhaps if she doesn’t kill the woman or corrode her soul completely--they might make a fine duo.

Mia casts a smile over her shoulder.

Sometimes, Alcina loses herself. At least this time she may  have help finding herself.  

[karasuno-chaos]

Recommending Music (Tsukishima x Reader)

What do you think Tsukishima listens to with those headphones of his? 🎵  Also this one’s a bit long and a bit messy, sorry. -Giz

Word Count:  2,381

Fluffvember masterlist

The notebook started in middle school.  You’d befriended Yamaguchi almost immediately, but getting to know Tsukishima had taken some time.  After your first year, you could usually read the intention behind his snide remarks and hard stares, but you weren’t sure you qualified as a friend yet.  At least he tolerated you and allowed you to hang out with him and Yamaguchi sometimes, and you were willing to take what he’d give.

During lunch one day in the middle of your second year, you finally received some clarity.

“If we’re going to be friends, I have a list of songs you need to listen to.”

“You consider us friends?” you asked, feeling a rush of excitement.

“Obviously.”  His expression was annoyed, but he wasn’t being aggressive.  Sometimes you suspected that his frustration with himself surfaced as frustration with other people.

“Is it your top ten songs, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, totally unphased by his friend’s frosty behavior.  “Has it changed at all?”

“Not really.  Pass me your notebook,” he requested, holding a hand out to you.

“Hang on, I don’t have one handy.”  You heard him sigh as you ran back to your desk, but you didn’t know what he’d expected.  You didn’t usually bring school work to lunch.  You grabbed a mostly-empty notebook from your desk and flipped it open to a blank page before slapping it down in front of him.

“Here you go.”

You opened your lunch and ate while he marked the page with his sharp, precise handwriting.  Yamaguchi watched over his shoulder.

“That one’s new,” he said, pointing to the eighth on the list.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry Tsukki.”

This common refrain between them had alarmed you at first, but neither friend was bothered by the words.  Like so many of Tsukishima’s remarks, it sounded more aggressive than he meant it to be.

“Here.”  He turned the notebook to face you, and you studied it curiously.  You’d heard of most of the songs, but some of them were unfamiliar.  He’d also written little notes next to a few of them, like “bass line” or “harmonies”.

“So I just need to listen to them?” you asked.  “You’re not going to quiz me or anything, right?”

“Why would I bother?” he scoffed, shifting his headphones from around his neck to over his ears.  You glanced at Yamaguchi who shrugged with a smile.  You looked at the notebook again.  Somehow this list felt like a confirmation that you had a place in their small but very close friend group, and it made you very happy.

A few days later, Tsukishima asked whether you’d listened to the songs yet.

“I have,” you replied confidently.

“Just once, or multiple times?”

“Multiple times.  You can’t fully appreciate a song after just one listen.”

He blinked at you, and a tiny shift in his expression told you that he was impressed.

“Tsukki had to tell me to try them several times at first,” Yamaguchi admitted.  You gave him a sympathetic shrug.  You didn’t want to admit that you’d been so thorough in an effort to impress Tsukishima.  Despite his confirmation that he considered you a friend, you still felt like you might be on a trial period with him.

“What did you appreciate about them then?” he asked, sitting back in his seat.

“Hang on, let me get my notes,” you said.

“You took notes?” Yamaguchi asked, also impressed.  He looked curiously at the notebook when you pulled it out.  You’d scribbled your thoughts next to Tsukishima’s concise script.  “You really took this seriously.”

“Was I not supposed to?” you asked, starting to feel embarrassed at the effort you’d made.

“Let me see,” Tsukishima said quietly.  You handed him the notebook and tried not to fidget too much while you waited for his reaction.  You braced yourself for the cutting remarks and cold criticisms you were fairly certain would come.

“What do you mean by ‘trying too hard’?” he asked after a bit, pointing to a note you’d made.

“The singer kept embellishing the melody like she was trying to impress the listener, and sometimes the guitar came on a little strong.  It was like they wanted to come across as serious musicians, but instead they sounded desperate.”

“The band was still pretty young when they first recorded this track.”

“I figured,” you said.

“Which is why some of those guitar riffs are so impressive,” he finished with the confidence of someone winning an argument.

“I’m not saying they’re not skilled,” you conceded, “but having the skills and using them well are two different things, and I think they could have done better.”

“Interesting.”  He looked at you critically, and there was that shift in his expression again that indicated he was impressed.  Your embarrassment left.  Maybe your extra effort had been worth it.

He asked you about some of your other notes or particular parts of some of the songs.  Yamaguchi chimed in, too, and you could imagine Tsukishima giving him a similar education in his musical tastes.  He didn’t speak with particular passion or aggressively impose his views, but he was much more focused than you normally saw him.  He was actually interested in what you had to say, and you rather liked having his attention.

As your lunch period drew to a close, Tsukishima flipped the page of your notebook and jotted down another few lines.

“Check these out next,” he said, and that’s how it started.  He’d tell you to listen to a few songs, you’d discuss what you thought of them, and you’d do it all again.  You ripped out what little school notes you’d had in your notebook, and it became dedicated to your music exchanges  After a while, you started recommending songs for him, too.  You enjoyed subjecting him to your musical tastes and defending your choices.  Yamaguchi participated sometimes, but the exchange was mainly between you and Tsukishima.

You were surprised when it continued through middle school into your first year of high school, but by then you had cemented your place in this little friend group.  You were pretty sure your debates over music had helped you win over Tsukishima.  At the very least, they helped you understand him better.  His song suggestions felt like snapshots into his mood or the way he viewed the world.  You wondered if he knew how much he told you through those songs when he couldn’t hide behind snide remarks and sneers.

“Ah, look at this.  The hotshot volleyball star graces us with his presence before taking off for the week,” you said in a teasing tone as Tsukishima and Yamaguchi met you at your locker after school.  The Shiratorizawa first year training camp started tomorrow, and you were taking every opportunity you could to tease your friend about it.  You’d noticed a heightened intent when he went to practice as though his attitude toward the sport had changed somehow.  You knew he was excited about his invitation to this camp even though he didn’t say anything.

“Whatever.”  There’s a hint of scorn in his voice as he brushes off your jest, but you’re not bothered by it.  His “whatever” is the refrain he’s given you, like telling Yamaguchi to shut up.  You were used to him hiding his feelings behind his words.

“You’ll be gone all week, right Tsukki?” your freckled friend asked.

“Right.”

“A whole week free of the king of the court and that annoying tangerine,” you said, mocking the way he sometimes talked about his teammates.  “I bet that’ll be fun.  Though you’ll have to work hard, and you won’t get to hang out with Yamaguchi all day, which sucks.”

“You won’t get to hang out with him or me, so who’s the real loser here?”

“Definitely me,” you sighed, leaning against Yamaguchi.  He patted your shoulder consolingly.

“You could always help Kiyoko and Yachi while we practice.”

“I’d rather not work harder than I have to during break.”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to listen to these.”  Tsukishima tossed the music notebook at you.  You barely reacted fast enough to catch it.

“Hey, I was wondering where this went.”  You flipped to the new list and skimmed over it.  “Did you pick any good ones?”

“Obviously,” he smirked.  “Come on Yamaguchi.”

“Have fun,” you called as they headed off to practice.  “Let me know if you get bored of volleyball and want to hang.”

“Bye Y/N.”  Yamaguchi waved before turning to say something to Tsukishima.  Your taller friend didn’t turn back or spare you a farewell, but that wasn’t uncommon.  You’d message them both later anyway.

You didn’t get around to the new song recommendations until the next day.  After sleeping in a reasonable amount and enjoying an easy morning, you flopped onto your bed.  You compiled the songs into a playlist on your computer, put on your headphones, and hit play.

For your first listen, you always laid back and stared at your ceiling, letting the music spill over you uninterrupted.  The second and third listens were for writing notes and preparing your reviews for the debates.  Anything beyond that was purely for enjoyment.

After jotting your notes for this round, you let the playlist cycle into some of Tsukishima’s past recommendations.  You enjoyed most of the songs he’d suggested lately, and part of you wondered if he was taking your tastes into account or if your preferences had shifted the more you’d been exposed to his.  You flipped through the notebook to revisit the past playlists, laughing to yourself over some of the notes on the pages.  It was amusing to see how your handwriting had changed over the years.

You’d run out of blank pages in the notebook soon.  You wondered if Tsukishima would want to continue these music exchanges, or if they’d fall to the wayside as high school and activities demanded more time and attention.  You began counting how many pages were left when some script on the final page made you stop.

You reread the top line twice to make sure you weren’t seeing things.  Songs that make me think of you.  You sat up and looked at the page carefully.  There were a dozen songs on the list, and from the variance in script and ink color, you knew he must have added songs as they struck him.  When had he started the playlist?  How long had he been working on it?  He hadn’t written any notes next to the titles, so you weren’t sure what his intentions were, but you felt a pleasant squeeze in your chest.

You listened to that playlist four or five times uninterrupted, and each time you felt like you better understood what he was saying through the music.  You could feel the blush rising in your cheeks along with a feeling of happiness.  You’d been keeping your growing crush on Tsukishima a secret.  You never would have guessed he might feel the same, and based on the evidence that he’d been working on this playlist for a while, he’d been keeping his feelings a secret for a while, too.

You spent the rest of the afternoon figuring out how to respond.  Even if it was unexpectedly sudden, you knew you needed to act on this revelation today.  After dinner, you bundled up in your winter gear, grabbed the notebook, and headed over to his house.  You waited nearly an hour, pacing up and down his block, until you finally saw him walking home from the bus stop.  He slowed a little when he spotted you, pushing his headphones off of his ears to around his neck.

“Hi,” you greeted, feeling a little awkward but determined to get this over with.

“What are you doing?”  He was being careful by keeping his tone neutral, but you could tell he was curious.

“I listened to your playlist.”

“Okay.”

“Both of them.”

“Oh.”  You could almost see his guard come up.  You understood him so easily, you were amazed you hadn’t noticed his feelings before now.

“I made a playlist for you,” you said, opening the notebook and handing it to him.  He took it and looked over your selections, keeping his features neutral.  Waiting for him to react was torture, but you let him process the situation at his own pace.  After all, you’d just sprung this on him, whereas you’d had all afternoon to acclimate to the idea of sharing feelings.

“There are too many genre jumps,” he said eventually, and you rolled your eyes as he critiqued the flow of the playlist.  “It’s like listening whiplash.”

“It’s not about the listening experience, it’s about the message of the songs,” you said.  “If I’d expected you to actually listen to it, I would have put in more effort.”

“Maybe I should wait for you to put in that effort,” he smirked, handing you the notebook.

“Tsukishima,” you said.  The seriousness of your tone made his smirk drop back to a neutral expression.  “I know I’m kind of going out on a limb here, but I think I understood what you were trying to say with that secret playlist.  The truth is, I’ve liked you for a while, in a more-than-friends way, and based on the songs you picked, I think you might like me that way too.  So I picked a bunch of songs about falling in love and asking someone out to see if maybe you’d like to be my boyfriend.”

The emotional confession left you a little lightheaded, and you almost couldn’t look at him, but you did, and you saw the way his stare softened a little.

“After you redo that playlist,” he said, walking past you to go inside.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”  He turned back at the door.  “Depends on how good the playlist is.”

You knew he was teasing you.  He wasn’t shallow enough to make his decision solely based on your musical tastes, but you were willing to play along.

“Fine,” you agreed with a grin.  “Tomorrow night, I’ll have the best asking-you-out playlist you’ve ever heard, so be ready to be my boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” he said, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine grin as he glanced at you one more time before heading inside.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

meet me in another universe

I wasn’t entirely sure whether to post this or not (and I had some trouble getting it finished), but in honour of ‘meeting’ @dreamy-slytherin a year ago, here’s a fic about five ways VDS could have met, and one way they do :)

~^~

1. Evak/Davenzi Style

Jens is only sitting on the toilet for about two minutes when he hears the footsteps and quiet cursing as someone rattles the door of his stall. He freezes, looking up from his phone with wide eyes. He supposes it’s someone looking to use the bathroom, but then he hears the ruffle of the tissue dispenser on the wall rather than the door in the stall next to him. 

He hesitates for a moment, then stands, stuffing his phone in his pocket and opening the door carefully. 

Surely enough, there’s a boy standing by the sinks, fiddling futilely at the empty box. Jens only has time to take in ratty converse, light-wash blue jeans and a matching denim jacket before the boy is turning and glancing at him. Jens’s breath gets caught up in his throat at the sight of striking blue eyes and bronze curls. 

He’s seen this boy, once. He had passed him in the courtyard earlier in the week, and the boy had met his gaze and continued walking, and Jens was left looking over his shoulder after him and wondering why. He thought it was the unfamiliar face. That could be the reason, now, that something curious and excited flutters in his stomach and urges him, this time, to interact. 

“Fuck, sorry, you’re looking for tissues,” he says. 

The boy only looks at him as Jens retreats into the stall long enough to tear off a strip of toilet paper. He comes out and hands it to the boy now stood stock still in the dim fluorescent lights, who takes it from him hesitantly. Jens only then notices the damp drips drying into the boy’s pink sweater. The weight of his eyes on the spot seems to be what snaps the other boy into motion, as he immediately begins dabbing at his clothes in an attempt to sop up the water. 

“Fountain mishap, or something more embarrassing?” Jens finds himself asking, leaning back against the sinks. 

“Uhm.” The boy glances up at him, cheeks tinted red. It’s cute. “Fountain. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Jens shakes his head, smiling, ignoring that this is his first time hearing the boy’s voice and that it’s accented and pretty. “Nah, I’ve been using it for years and it still acts up on me, don’t stress. You’re new.”

It isn’t a question, because now that Jens has heard him speak and the boy had admitted his confusion, it’s obvious. 

“That’s why I was supposed to be going to the group thing, but this didn’t feel like the best first impression.” He gestures at his sweater, where the stain has faded slightly but also spread in retaliation. 

Jens shrugs. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you. They’re doing trust circles. Hand holding and all.”

When the boy looks at him curiously, Jens explains, “Whatever they’re doing in there is the reason I was in here.”

This earns him a huff of laughter, as the boy tosses his wad of tissue in the bin and glances at the door, then back at Jens. Jens pulls the joint from behind his ear and holds it up for the boy to see, raising his brows. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Jens simply heads out the door and nods for the boy to follow him. 

He leads them outside, and finally settles atop one of the tables in the courtyard with his feet on the bench. By the time the boy joins him, Jens has already lit the joint and taken a drag. The boy accepts it when Jens offers it to him and climbs up onto the table himself, shoulders curling against the cold as he brings the joint to his lips. 

“What’s your name?” 

The boy looks at him and passes the joint back, cheeks and nose red now. “Lucas.”

Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.

Jens lets the name settle for a second and then says, “I’m Jens.”

Lucas simply nods, but he’s smiling as he tucks his hands into his pockets and hugs his jacket tighter around himself. It’s obvious, looking at him, that he’s cold, but he radiates warmth all along Jens’s side. Jens allows himself to shift just an inch closer, imperceptibly, stretching a leg out as he does it in the hope that Lucas won’t notice. But Lucas remains unphased and silent, and Jens misses his gaze and his voice. 

“So, who roped you into Amber’s cult?” Jens asks. 

This time, Lucas’s laugh is full-bodied and beautiful, paired with a small but brilliant smile as he looks at Jens incredulously. “That would‘ve been Amber herself, but Luca was oddly more convincing. You know them well?”

Jens hums in confirmation, but doesn’t bother offering the story. Instead he says, “It only took me about thirty seconds to realise that’s why I should’ve known better.”

“Okay,” Lucas laughs again. “I feel kind of bad for skipping out. They’ve been very welcoming.”

“Are you in our year?” Jens questions. 

Lucas shakes his head. “Sixth.”

Jens furrows his brows, suddenly intrigued. “Transferring in your last year?”

Lucas simply shrugs. 

“From Amsterdam?” Jens guesses. 

“Utrecht,” Lucas corrects. Then, with a glint to his smile, “I’m on the run.”

Jens whistles. “Amber would’ve loved you sharing that in her party games. She’s gonna be so jealous I got the gossip first.”

Lucas heaves a sigh. “And, test failed. Now I’m going to have to kill you too and hide somewhere else.”

Jens starts laughing in the middle of a drag and chokes slightly, but it doesn’t deter him. He just coughs into his fist and lets his laughter continue, loud in his surprise, smile stretched so wide his cheeks might split. He shakes his head in amusement while Lucas tries to keep his expression stoic, though his lips twitch at the corners. “Come on, if I’d known it was a test I would’ve passed,” Jens protests. “Give me a second chance.”

After an intense staring contest, in which Lucas slowly loses his unimpressed gaze and Jens does his best to look pleading, Lucas is the one to cave. He looks away from Jens with another sigh, smile finally breaking out. “Fine. Since you shared.” Lucas gestures to the joint, and Jens grins and offers it to him again. 

Jens thinks the meeting might have been a good idea after all. 

2. Elu Style

Lucas shakes his head at Kes and Jayden’s antics, stretching his legs out in front of him and reclining back in the chair, meeting Liv’s pointed look and resisting the urge to offer her a mocking salute. He does, however, allow a smug smile, and Liv simply rolls her eyes and tunes back into the conversation between the girls. Lucas has already blocked them out, and Kes and Jayden gave up their complaining after a mere few minutes, so he hasn’t had to listen to them either. Instead he lets them all fade into a buzz, and only curiously looks around when the door opens again and more students trickle in. 

His heart jumps up and lodges itself in his throat. 

Amidst the miniature crowd is a tall boy with raven hair and bright brown eyes, whom Lucas has definitely never seen before at this school but is possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on. 

The boy sits at the edge of the row behind Lucas, caught in conversation with the girl sitting next to him. However, as he settles, he glances around. It’s possible this description of his actions is inaccurate, because in fact his eyes seem to go straight to Lucas’s without taking in any other aspect of the room. Lucas freezes as the boy’s smile seems to grow just slightly, and quickly looks away, focusing his attention back on Engel, who has now begun giving some sort of introduction. 

Lucas would be dishonest if he said he took in a word, but he hadn’t planned on it to begin with. He’d just thought it would be due to zoning out rather than an unexpected distraction. 

But he’s raptly focused on the rapid beat of his heart, and he can’t help throwing another glance over his shoulder. 

Throughout the whole meeting, it’s a repetitive process. Lucas glances over his shoulder and then away again, every time the boy meets his eyes and smiles wider and doesn’t avert his own gaze. Lucas’s cheeks are warm, the heat having crawled slowly up his neck and continuing to spread. He’s glad of the light tan he’d earned over the summer, hoping that it keeps the blush mostly secret. He doubts it, however, especially when he looks back to find the boy’s eyes already on him and his pulse rockets to a worrying speed. 

“—cas?” 

Lucas tunes back in as Kes elbows him, willing his blush down and letting out a hum. Jayden huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the furrow of Kes’s brow belies his smile. “The girl, last night. What happened?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, making Kes’s brows raise and Jayden make another noise of exasperation. “I mean, yeah, it was cool.”

Jayden leans in as Kes nods, expectant. “Did you get her number?”

Lucas murmurs a confirmation, and mostly blocks out their cheers and praises. He keeps his gaze on the girls, but still doesn’t know what they’re talking about, still only has one image fixed in his mind and his heartbeat loud in his ears. He glances over his shoulder one more time and the boy is no longer looking at him. 

He avoids glancing back for the rest of the meeting and is dismayed to realise the boy has already left by the time he shuffles out with Kes and Jayden. The only saving grace is that they seem not to have minded the meeting much, and don’t give Lucas any shit on their way to the gate, rather talking idly amidst themselves and leaving Lucas lost in his own head. They depart once they make it onto the dark street, both offering him their traditional handshake and a wave, and Lucas turns towards the bus-stop on his own. 

Lucas instantly recognises the lone figure beyond the stop, poised in front of the vending machine with his back to the street. The same boy from the meeting. He hesitates as he bypasses the bench and hovers a few feet away, leaving himself with a view of the boy’s side profile and the anxious tap of his fingers over his bag strap. He’s gazing at the vending machine in deep concentration, contemplating his options with more seriousness than Lucas has ever witnessed. 

After a moment, in which the boy fails to acknowledge him, Lucas clears his throat. “Twenty-one is the best, in my opinion,” he offers. 

He politely ignores the way the boy jumps, though has to purse his lips to stop a smile. The boy looks him over consideringly, then shrugs and slots some coins into the machine before pressing the buttons. The bar falls from the twenty-one rack and the boy repeats the process, watching the one remaining snack fall and then ducking down to dig them both out. 

Lucas watches the whole affair in awe and mild offence. 

Then the boy turns to him and raises one of the bars and his brows; a silent offering. Lucas simply stares at him, and the boy tosses him the chocolate without a word, and then nods towards the bench. 

There’s no reason not to, so Lucas follows with the bar clutched in his hands. 

They settle onto opposite ends of the cool seat. Lucas watches as the boy tears the wrapper and takes an experimental bite. He chews, looking out at the street rather than at Lucas, until he swallows and allows a nod. Then he turns to Lucas with the same smile as earlier and simply says, “Not bad.”

Lucas shrugs, letting a smile of his own surface and cataloguing the accent, rather than allowing himself to focus on the boy’s lips. He holds up his own bar and gives it a little wave. “When it’s free, it’s easy to enjoy even more.”

The boy huffs, accepting this with an amused nod before popping another square of chocolate in his mouth. The silence stretches in the time it takes him to swallow, and then he looks at Lucas with a squinty smile and says, “The meeting was kind of weird.”

“Yeah.” It’s Lucas’s turn to huff, his smile growing. “You’ll learn to expect that from Engel. Did you understand what the survey was about?”

“No,” the boy admits with a laugh. He tears the wrapper of his bar a little further and Lucas’s gaze is drawn to his hands. He shrugs and looks back up at Lucas. “Still, it’s cool.”

“The survey?” Lucas raises a brow. 

The boy huffs another laugh. “No, but the common room. It’s a good way to meet new people.”

Lucas absorbs this, then tests out his earlier deduction. “You’re new?”

“Started a couple of weeks ago,” the boy confirms. 

“Isn’t that a little weird?” Lucas asks. “Transferring a few months before graduation?”

The boy looks at him again, now with raised brows. “Do you just find everything weird?”

Lucas huffs, feeling some of his flush return, but he mimics the other’s expression. “Wasn’t it you calling the meeting weird first?”

The boy accepts this loss with a shrug, smiling at Lucas before setting a square of chocolate between his teeth. “I must be weird too, then.”

“I didn’t mean—“ Lucas begins the protest, but falters when he notices the amused glimmer in the boy’s gaze. Then he closes his eyes and lets out a breath, poking his tongue into his cheek in an attempt to control his smile. The boy laughs, and Lucas shakes his head. “No, I’m sure you’re great…”

He trails off, realising he hasn’t asked for the other’s name. Thankfully, the boy seems to understand, and simply says, “Jens.” He sets his now empty wrapper in his lap and brushes his hands off on his jeans, then holds one out towards Lucas. “I’m Jens.”

Lucas takes his hand somewhat cautiously, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat kick up again. He stashes the name away alongside the smile and the eyes and the accent. Then he returns, “Lucas.”

3. Crisana Style

Jens weaves his way through the crowd and towards the front door, where he’s immediately stopped by the bouncer. Jens holds up his free hand and whirls around to abandon his mostly-empty beer bottle on the nearest flat surface, then finally makes his way into the cooler air. He sucks in a breath and releases it on a sigh, moving along the side of the building to collapse on one of the benches. He leans back against the wall and lets out another sigh, closing his eyes in contentment as he enjoys the relatively silent surroundings. 

Then someone says, “Hey.”

Jens starts, blinking his eyes open and turning his head to the left to find a boy sitting next to him. At first, Jens is slightly dubious, because meeting a stranger sitting outside a club in the dark isn’t often a good outcome. But the boy is young, at least, around Jens’s own age as far as he can tell. His eyes are clear, not bloodshot or misty, though he does have a joint between his fingers. There’s an amused, curious curve to his lips as he watches Jens. Jens swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and manages, “Hey.”

The boy raises his brows at him, and Jens swallows and blinks all over again. “I’m Lucas,” the boy says, still watching Jens closely. Jens just keeps staring. “We have literature together?”

Jens’s lips part, and then recognition shines through the alcohol-induced haze. “Fuck, sorry, you’re the new guy.” Lucas huffs, but he’s still smiling and he nods in acknowledgment, flicking some ash off the end of the joint. Jens follows the movement, then returns to gazing at Lucas’s face, and he finds that he’s smiling back. It’s not that he’s been waiting for this opportunity, but, well, he might have spent some time those first few days staring across the room at the back of Lucas’s head and the occasional tilt of his side profile. He hasn’t made any attempts at connecting with Lucas himself, but he’d heard all the stories and felt all the same curiosity. He can’t deny that he’s a little excited, now, to get the opportunity to interact. “I’m Jens.”

Lucas simply raises his brows, his smile widening. “I know.”

It doesn’t make it easy to continue the conversation, but it sends a few rivulets of warmth flowing through Jens’s chest. It’s a curious feeling, and one that he doesn’t want to think much about. Instead he keeps staring at Lucas and watches as he brings the joint back to his lips, taking another drag. Lucas is dressed much more stylishly and a lot less conveniently than Jens. He’s shivering in his dark button-down and jeans, and his hair attempts to flutter out of the neat waves he has lain over his forehead. Jens compares it to his own usual hoodie while realising he’s staring, and then quickly looks away. 

He pats down his pockets, eventually finding the small bag in his jeans and pulling it out only to realise it’s empty. He blows out a sigh and stows the plastic away and hears another huff next to him. Lucas’s hand comes into his line of sight, joint held out in offering. “Here.”

Jens takes it gratefully, drawing a long inhale and then stiffening at Lucas’s sound of protest. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lucas orders. “That’s the last of my home stash.”

Jens huffs in understanding, passing the joint back and ignoring the sparks of heat as Lucas’s fingers brush his. “And where’s that? You’re Dutch, right?”

Lucas nods. “I moved from Utrecht.” He flicks some more ash off the joint then hands it to Jens. 

This time, Jens takes a small puff and blows the smoke upward, letting it curl into the space between them. Now Lucas’s eyes appear hazy. Pretty. Jens rolls the joint between his fingers and takes another drag when Lucas simply leans back and watches him. Jens looks at him curiously. “Why’d you do that? Move in the middle of the year? It’s a little weird, no?”

He waits for an answer, but Lucas has already lost interest in him, diverting his gaze past Jens with a raised hand. “Wait, this song.”

He looks at Jens excitedly. Jens looks back, listening. He can faintly hear the music filtering through the open doorway, but he doesn’t recognise it. He purses his lips and shakes his head, admitting his confusion. Lucas’s jaw drops and he nudges his shoulder. “Come on. From Romeo and Juliet?” 

Jens slowly shakes his head again, biting down a smile as Lucas scoffs and snatches the joint back out of his hand. 

“Seriously? You’ve never seen it?” At Jens’s denial, Lucas’s smile turns teasing. “I can’t believe you take literature and you’re this uncultured.”

“Hey,” Jens protests, laughing slightly. Lucas’s eyes are very blue. He’s got a ring on the index finger of his right hand. Jens watches it glimmer as Lucas lifts his hand to his mouth for another drag. The joint has dwindled down so far his fingers are almost brushing his lips. “I’ve read Romeo and Juliet.” Plus, he knows Robbe has watched it, and he had sat through a scene or two, but he’d never felt a desire to watch the whole thing. It didn’t feel like his kind of film. He hadn’t thought it would be Lucas’s, either, but he doesn’t know how he’d know that in the first place. 

“Yeah, but everyone knows the Baz Luhrmann production is the best version.” Lucas points at him, both brows raised. “You have to watch it before you’re allowed to watch any other new film. Even just for this soundtrack. Look.”

Before Jens knows what’s happening, Lucas is grabbing his hand with the one still holding the joint and pulling it towards himself, pressing Jens’s palm to his own chest, over his heartbeat. Jens sucks in a breath. 

Lucas doesn’t notice, eyes bright as he continues speaking. “Do you ever get songs like that? Ones that just move you and you can’t even explain why?”

Jens can’t answer, simply watching Lucas with rapt attention. He’s focused on the soft fabric of Lucas’s shirt crinkling between his fingers, and the thump of Lucas’s heart against his hand, quick but not overly so. He’s focused on the sturdy plane of Lucas’s chest and the soft touch of Lucas’s hand. His own heartbeat is loud in his ears. 

Then Lucas lays his free hand over Jens’s chest, in the open gap of his hoodie, splaying slowly over his thin t-shirt. Jens holds his breath and looks up at Lucas’s smile. 

“See,” Lucas says softly. Jens half expects him to sound smug, but he doesn’t. He’s just quietly pleased, eyes flicking between Jens’s as if he’s searching for something. “It’s not just me. Your heart’s going faster than mine.”

Jens feels like he should protest. He can’t lie about his heartbeat, because it speeds up even further at Lucas’s touch, but he can explain that it isn’t about the music. He can’t even hear it any more. It has all whited out in favour of the sound of Lucas’s voice and his own pulse. Maybe he had drunk more than he’d thought, or Dutch weed is stronger, but he feels lightheaded and loose. Floaty. Still, he has enough sense to know he can’t tell Lucas the truth. That it has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with him, and his proximity, much closer than it had been when Jens first sat down. 

Instead of telling him any of this, Jens simply huffs again, but he’s unable to hide his grin. 

4. Nicotino Style

Lucas drums his fingers over his knee and glances away from Engel to his phone. The boy in his peripheral laughs at whatever Janna says, and Lucas purposefully doesn’t look at him, swallowing the desire and getting to his feet. He holds up his phone to the girls in apology and points towards the door, putting the phone to his ear and uttering a greeting. He keeps it up as he wanders down the hallway, trailing his fingers along the wall as he goes, talking nonsense until he makes it into the small radio room and gets the door closed behind him. Then he mutters a curse as a ‘goodbye’ and drops into the lone swivel chair, setting his phone on the table next to the microphone. 

He does a few slow rotations, taking in the small recording space with faint intrigue. He glances over the various buttons and tools as he completes his round, leaning forward and hovering his fingers over a few. He looks at the microphone in front of him and then picks up the headphones next to it, settling them over his ears. He leans forward hesitantly and speaks into the mic. “Testing, testing, one, two, three.”

As expected, nothing happens. He clears his throat and settles his arms across the tabletop. “Hallo,” he continues, smiling now. “This broadcast is coming to you from Radio Lieve. Today’s talk will be a lesson on how to grow weed from your closet, a highly recommended practice by our very own Engel Beekman, whom we thank. To start—“

He cuts himself off abruptly as the light flicks on across the window and he sees the boy from the meeting through the glass. He’s all dark hair and contrasting features; sharp jaw and nose, soft eyes and lips. They all morph with his smile, as he leans forward and raises his brows at Lucas. “Why did you stop?”

“Uhm,” Lucas says. His mind has gone blank. “I wasn’t recording, just...messing around.”

“Pity,” the boy sighs, sitting back. “I really wanted to see where that was going.” 

Lucas can’t help but respond to his smile. His lips curl up involuntarily even in his surprise. He has seen the boy around, but only once or twice, all within the past week. He doesn’t know why he’s never seen him before that, because he’s sure he would have noticed. Now, though, the accent feels like a hint. 

Lucas looks at the boy and the boy looks around the small space. “This place is actually kind of cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah, well, the place isn’t the problem,” Lucas explains. 

The boy laughs quietly. “What is, then?”

Lucas shrugs, slumping back and swiveling side to side in his chair as he thinks, letting his smile slip into a smirk. “Well, the food for one thing. I’m always up for something sweet, but that cake…” he trails off, grimacing, and earns himself a louder bout of laughter. 

“And the discipline guide,” the boy points out. “Scheduled bathroom breaks and a dress code? It’s a radio show.”

This time Lucas is the one who laughs. He doesn’t know why he expected to feel nerves. They are present, faintly, but only as a mild flutter in his stomach and sweat on his palms. Overall, he feels pleasantly surprised and mostly relaxed. He’d half thought someone so pretty would be more intimidating, but the boy looks the exact opposite in his cuffed jeans and worn-out hoodie. Especially with the grin on his face. 

He turns it past Lucas all of a sudden and brightens. “Is that the balcony?”

Lucas turns around and glances out the window behind him. “Uh, yeah, but I think it’s closed.”

The boy hums, pursing his lips and tilting his head to the side. “Do you think it also shows you how to break into that in this video they talked about?”

Lucas huffs as his smile spreads again. “Probably, but the wifi is terrible here.”

“My phone’s dead,” the boy admits, sighing. Then he raises his brows at Lucas, and holds up a blunt. “Shall we try anyway?”

Lucas raises his brows back and grins. 

There are more obstacles than he expects, but the most difficult part is definitely climbing through the broken gate. There’s only one bar taken out, and Lucas thinks if they both weren’t quite as thin, there’s no way they’d make it through. It’s a tight squeeze for the other boy purely due to his height, though he manages with considerably more grace than Lucas. Once they’re finally through, it’s only a matter of trekking up the stairwell and walking out onto the balcony with ease. 

The boy whistles as Lucas follows a few steps behind him, looking out at the view. “Damn, this is a pretty nice city.”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees, vaguely impressed himself. “It’s probably better from up here.”

The boy shrugs and settles himself on the ground, reproducing his blunt and a lighter along with it. Lucas watches as he places the blunt between his lips and lights up, flame illuminating his face in a soft glow for just a second. He looks at Lucas as he’s tucking his lighter back into his pocket, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Do you already know Engel, then?”

“Kind of,” Lucas shrugs. “Mostly through my friend, Isa.”

The boy nods and passes him the blunt, which Lucas accepts with a quiet thanks. “You don’t seem overly excited about this radio thing, though.”

“It’s complicated,” Lucas admits. He takes a drag and it settles his racing heart a bit, but it can only help so much with the boy’s eyes still on him. “You can’t be that into it, either, if you’re hanging out here with me instead of in there.”

“Blame your friend, Isa,” the boy says with a laugh, before groaning as he tilts his head back. “I needed an extra-curricular and there wasn’t too many options. I figured if I could post dumb vlogs on YouTube I could speak on a school radio show.”

Lucas raises his brows and his eyes widen. He’s sure he looks ridiculous, can see it in the boy’s amused expression, but he can’t quite contain his shock or his desire to know more. “You post vlogs on YouTube? Who the hell are you and why don’t I know already?”

The boy laughs again. It’s an unfairly pretty sound. This time, Lucas thinks there’s a faint blush accompanying it. “I’m Jens,” he offers. “I lived in Belgium until a few weeks ago, so I wouldn’t expect you to know me.”

Lucas blinks. He’d already guessed as much, but it’s still strange to hear. “You moved mid-semester?”

“Yep,” Jens says. He steals the blunt out of Lucas’s hand. “I’m the talk of the town. Gotta say it’s a little disappointing you don’t know me, actually.”

“Plus you’re apparently internet famous,” Lucas says, lingering on Jens’s lips as he wraps them around the blunt. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised. That kind of beauty must have garnered some popularity, somewhere. 

Jens shakes his head, amused. “I wouldn’t say that,” he dismisses. “But you’re probably going to stalk me anyway now.”

“Absolutely,” Lucas confirms. Jens shakes his head again, laughs again, and Lucas feels the nerves dissipate into an old, familiar warmth, and instead of squashing it down, lets it spread along with his smile. 

5. Sobbe Style

Jens walks back towards the house and catches his first glimpse of the boy through the windows. He glances at Jens briefly through the glass, but doesn’t linger like Jens does. Jens keeps looking over his shoulder until he makes it to the door, and then he steps in just in time for the boy to turn around and look at him. They’d come back to the house Amber had rented previously for break, all the same crew with the addition of Senne, but definitely not this boy. This boy is unfamiliar and pretty and Jens would definitely have noticed if he was supposed to be standing in their kitchen. 

“Hey,” Jens says curiously. 

“Do you know where the sugar is?” the boy asks, ignoring him. “Or the coffee itself?”

Jens blinks. “Uhm.”

“Any food?” The boy huffs when Jens simply continues to stare at him. “Seriously, are you the manager or what?”

Jens is baffled, and he has no hope of hiding it. “What?”

The boy waves a hand, brows high on his forehead. “I made sure this place was a B&B. Honestly, how hard is it to stock a fridge at least? And what about the little free soaps?”

“Sorry—“ Jens starts. 

“Are you so careless of your guests that you don’t even provide bottled water?” the boy cuts him off, seeming genuinely incredulous. “Well?”

Jens parts his lips a few times before actually managing to speak, entirely confused and slightly irritated. “Sorry,” he repeats, “but who actually are you?”

The boy holds his stare for another minute and then breaks into a laugh, covering his face with his hand. He peeks at Jens through his fingers. “Oh my god, sorry.” He chuckles. “You really should’ve seen your face, though.” 

When Jens only continues to stare blankly, the boy sobers slightly and offers a hand. “Sorry. I’m Lucas.”

Jens carefully takes his hand and gives one shake, still feeling lost. “Jens.”

“Yeah,” Lucas smiles, then laughs again. “You probably forgot. I’m Sander’s friend. He told me he did this to Robbe last year, made a bet with me that I couldn’t pull it off with one of you guys, too.” Lucas shrugs. His grin appears only faintly apologetic. “So, sorry, you were just the unlucky target.”

Finally, the name rings a bell. Jens had forgotten that Sander invited anyone on this trip, because in his experience it was odd that Sander had any sort of attention span for anyone other than Robbe. But as Jens skims his gaze over Lucas, takes in the artfully ruffled hair and paint-stained clothing and old-fashioned converse, he kind of understands. 

“What makes you think Sander will believe you?” Jens finds himself asking, narrowing his eyes at Lucas in a somewhat teasing gesture. It’s the best way he knows to gain back some traction, here, and settle more firmly on his feet. 

Lucas is unfazed. “I have a trustworthy witness,” he says easily. 

Jens holds his challenging gaze for only a few seconds before relenting, tucking his hands into his pockets and matching Lucas’s leaning pose against the wall. “Your little act was weirdly convincing, I admit.”

Lucas offers a small smile and bow. Jens doesn’t think he has quite the dramatic flair of his friend, but he has some of the cheekiness, the sparkle and the daunting aura. There’s something inexplicably cool and instantly likable—qualities Jens himself has always envied. Lucas had seemed a little embarrassed after his stunt, but he doesn’t appear shy, instead holding a quiet confidence not unlike Robbe’s. 

“How do you know Sander?” Jens decides to question, because he really does get it but he also really doesn’t. 

He’s surprised when Lucas simply answers, “The Academy.”

Jens raises his brows. He hadn’t thought Lucas was older than him. “You’re in college?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, faintly amused. “Not just any college, though. Art college.”

“Yeah,” Jens muses, “that’s much better.”

Lucas instantly flips him off, and Jens laughs and instantly decides that he likes this stranger. He supposes that’s a good thing, considering Lucas is to spend the next week with them, and Robbe would probably be pissed if Jens decided not to get along with Sander’s friends. He can’t help thinking none of them have to worry. He’s actually a little awed by Lucas’s small prank and the guts he had to break it out immediately. 

“I thought that meant I was supposed to be the pretentious one, but your hospitality is shit,” Lucas informs him. But he’s still grinning, so Jens thinks they’re probably okay. 

“Your little joke was very pretentious, don’t worry,” Jens reassures, although he’s not sure he means it. Nothing about Lucas seems overly cocky or irritating. Pretentious isn’t quite a word that fits. 

Lucas simply huffs another laugh and then makes his way around him. He grabs a denim jacket from the sofa and then opens the front door, beckoning Jens after him. “Alright, come on.”

Jens blinks, instantly falling back to his confused state. “Huh?” When Lucas simply raises his brows expectantly, Jens clarifies, “Where are we going?”

“You actually don’t have any sugar. Or water,” Lucas says. “We’re going to buy some.”

“But Sander—“

“Is still locked in that room and probably won’t be out for a while.” Lucas raises his brows pointedly as Jens tamps down a grimace. “Do you have anything better to do? Unless you want to stay around and listen, which,” Lucas pulls a face, and the start of a laugh bubbles out of Jens again. 

“Robbe’s my best friend, so, no thanks,” Jens explains, mimicking his expression. “I’m in the same boat as you.”

Lucas nods, pleased, like this is information he already knew. Jens supposes he probably did. “So?” Lucas presses. “You coming?”

Jens glances at the sofa, where he could spend the morning lazing around on his own until all the couples emerge and let Lucas wander about the town on his own. Then he looks back at Lucas and the stark blue of his eyes now paired with his denim jacket, still watching Jens back expectantly. 

Jens follows him out the door without another word. 

+1

Lucas is too lost in his own head to notice the person coming towards him until he collides with them. 

The breath is knocked out of him and he stumbles off his skateboard with a curse. Another low voice accompanies him, and the owner’s quick reflexes are the only thing that stops him from tumbling out into the street. A hand grips onto his shoulder and steadies him, and Lucas lets the weight ground him until gravity regains its hold on him.

“Shit, sorry,” Lucas says, finally looking up at the person he’d barelled into. His breath escapes him again at the sight. It’s a boy roughly his age, but with a few inches on him, as well as an overwhelming amount of beauty. There’s no other way to put it—Lucas has long ago begun to acknowledge the attractiveness of every male he meets, and he has no doubt that this boy is utterly gorgeous. 

It complicates all of his already messy thoughts. Especially since the boy still hasn’t released Lucas’s shoulder. 

He’s staring back at Lucas, skimming his gaze down his frame as if checking for injury. “I think neither of us were watching where we were going there,” the boy admits, laughing slightly as he meets Lucas’s eyes. “You okay?”

Lucas has to take a moment to gather his words. “Yeah,” he breathes. Then he clears his throat. “Thanks.”

The boy huffs and finally (sadly) drops his hand. “What, for almost running you over?” 

“No.” Lucas blinks, managing to shake himself out of it enough to smile. “No, I mean, for the hand.”

The boy nods, then tucks those hands in his pockets and curiously tilts his head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucas nods, but the boy immediately continues, “I can’t find a way to make it up to you?”

“I thought it was a mutual collision,” Lucas points out, then immediately wants to smack himself. It’s not every day he sees a gorgeous boy, never mind bumps into one. Beyond that, this boy hadn’t immediately left, when he could have easily cursed Lucas out and left it at that. Instead he’s still talking, and offering more, and Lucas is stupid. He should not be trying to put the boy off. He has no idea what he is supposed to do. 

It doesn’t seem to matter, because the boy merely shrugs. “Yeah, but you looked more in need of a hand than me.”

Even Lucas isn’t stupid enough to argue with that. 

“Can I ask your name, at least?” the boy tries. 

That’s usually a good place to start, Lucas thinks. “Yeah, sorry. Lucas. You?”

“Jens.” 

Lucas tucks the information away with a nod. He almost expects Jens to offer his hand again, this time to shake, but instead he gets another curious tilt of the head. 

“Where were you headed?” Jens questions. 

“Uhm.” Lucas blanks. He isn’t out with a destination in mind—only the departure had felt necessary. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m not familiar with anywhere yet.”

“You’re not from here?” Jens questions. He doesn’t seem surprised, though, as if the answer is already obvious, which it probably is. Lucas shakes his head anyway. Jens actually seems pleased with the information. “Let me show you around a bit, then. Might at least stop you from taking down anyone else.”

Lucas thinks he should feel mildly offended, but he can only smile in response. “If you can show me somewhere with good desserts, I’ll fully consider you a life-saver.”

Jens accepts this challenge with a small laugh, and turns around on the street to face the way Lucas had been heading. He leans down to pick up his board and collects Lucas’s while he’s at it, passing it over to him after a brief damage check. “No bodies or boards seem to have been injured, so that’s something.”

“Internal damage, though,” Lucas finds himself arguing. “Wounded pride that can only be healed by the unhealthiest mound of ice cream.”

“Seriously?” Jens laughs again. “Okay, I can manage that.” 

They start down the street, and Lucas wonders if this is weird. He’d just crashed into Jens, and the boy is apparently taking him for ice cream. That’s not something strangers do, is it? Not even strangers in Belgium. Not anyone without an ulterior motive. He glances at Jens out of the side of his eye and tries a subtle examination, but it’s not as if he thinks Jens is dangerous. 

He honestly just can’t quite believe his luck. 

“Don’t freak out,” Jens huffs, and Lucas does his best not to blush. “I’ve seen you at school.”

Oh. “You have?”

Jens hums. “You’re in class with Robbe, right?”

Lucas is. The name instantly rings a bell, because Robbe is one of the few people that had bothered to introduce himself to Lucas over the past week. His first week adjusting to Antwerp. He nods. 

“He mentioned you,” Jens informs him. “Pointed you out one day by he lockers, but you disappeared before we could talk to you.” Jens smiles over at him. “I was hoping I’d get another opportunity.”

“You were?” Lucas asks, disbelieving. “Why?”

“Well, I can’t have Robbe having first access to all the gossip,” Jens laments. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

Lucas still doesn’t quite understand, but he knows how to joke. “So you’re inviting me for ice cream because you’re nosy?”

Jens nods seriously. “That is exactly it.”

They look at each other for a minute, walking slower, before they both crack up in a laugh. Lucas wonders if Jens is actually telling the truth and it just happens to be funny, or if he knows how to work a conversation to alleviate all awkwardness and tension. Either way, Lucas is grateful. He’s also slightly disappointed in himself, for being so unsure of his new surroundings that he’d prevented Jens from being able to meet him sooner. 

“I haven’t seen you around,” Lucas admits. He knows it’s the truth, because he would have remembered. “But I haven’t spoken to all that many people yet.”

Jens hums, frowning slightly. “It’s hard, moving this late, and especially after missing the first few weeks of the year. I’m sorry no one’s tried to make it easier for you.”

Lucas doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s probably his own fault. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I guess now someone is.” 

At this Jens grins, nodding in acknowledgement or acceptance; it might as well be admittance. Lucas decides that he doesn’t care, as long as it’s accompanied by that smile and Jens’s continued presence.