#it’s already been kind of a shitty day and it’s not even noon yet. thanks work.

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

i’m fine i’m fine i’m fine <- lying

[cursivebloodlines]

❝ don't worry, I'll be here when you're awake. ❞ - zoe

✷ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; FLUFF EDITION ( . 01 ) | @overnightheartbeats

❝ don't worry, I'll be here when you're awake. ❞

Even with his comforting words, Zoe couldn’t quite settle just yet. What kind of person invites their semi-not-quite-ex boyfriend to come over after persistently demanding space? Especially so late at night…but she didn’t know who else to call at the time. The only person she could think of was Eric. He plagued all of her thoughts, every morning, noon, and night. “I’m sorry…” she murmured, her fingers fiddling with the duvet, her eyes fixated on the broken clock ticking out of time on the wall. A loaded statement coming from her. After realising she never quite finished her train of thought with her apology, she cleared her throat awkwardly, a sigh escaping her lips. “Sorry for…” The words caught in her throat, like something was fighting her, weighing her tongue down heavily to stop herself from blurting out her pathetic apologies: Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for being the way I am. Sorry for ruining us. Sorry for all…this. Sorry for it all. Sorry for everything. “Sorry for getting you out of bed at this time for something that was nothing after all that messing around.”  

It was embarrassing, really. It had been at least two days since she’d managed to get any sleep and it was starting to make her irate (more than she already was) and paranoid. She could chalk it up to several different things but there were several times where she thought she was being followed… and when she came home from a late shift to find the door unlocked, it shook her up. Normally, she was ready for a fight, always ready to defend herself (something she could thank her ever shitty ass parents and the people they dragged in and out of her life for before she finally found her escape) at any cost but this had completely caught her off guard. After searching her place top to bottom, including every hidden nook and cranny, all of her hiding spaces and the hiding spaces within those hiding spaces to make sure nothing was removed, she sat there trying to devise her next moves listening to every single sound in the vast quietness and darkness of her home. Her place wasn’t very big, just small enough for the basics, really. It was only her after all. Since being back, it felt way too big. It was eerily silent, and the Eric shaped gap in her life forced by her made it only worse. It felt so very wrong after being accustomed to his place, after she moved in so they could stay together and ensure each other’s safety with the danger stemming from what was going on with Eric’s family. In the dead of the night, that was when it dawned on her - why this could be happening. A distraction, perhaps? If either one of them were in danger… being separated from him… the rush of panicked realisation was what had her scrambling for her phone, his number on speed dial. As soon as he answered, a sigh of relief escaped her and normally able to sound detached in her tone, she couldn’t conceal the concern. Quickly uttering things like ‘I just needed to check…are you okay?’ and ‘Me? Yeah, I’m fine… actually. No. Things really aren’t right around here. Can you come over? It’s okay if you can’t. I don’t even know what I was thi-you can? Okay then. See you soon. Thank you. I lo-See you soon.’ Why she felt the need to invite him over was another question entirely. She spoke to him…He was okay. And yet still something persuaded her to ask him over. A fresh pair of eyes, that’s what she convinced herself of in the end. Someone who wasn’t her…Problem was, there weren’t a lot of people she trusted. As for Eric, he was at the top of the list of those she did. Not that it was a very long list… then again, the list may have begun and ended with him. Even with their relationship tangled in knots, there was nobody she trusted more than she did with him; they couldn’t even come close. As expected, he arrived within minutes, he was here and Zoe tried her best to give him the rundown. The worry engraved into his features tugged at her heartstrings and instantly she wished she hadn’t bothered him. The words she once told him in desperation and anguish bitterly reminded her of the word she’d once inflicted: I’m not a damsel and I’m not in distress. Tonight was proof that those words couldn’t be further from the truth.

It was a relief to see him, to see him up close and real. Not just the familiar voice over the phone, or a text message here and there. It felt like an eternity had passed since she last saw him and seeing Eric again stirred up all of the emotions she tried so hard to burrow down deep inside her. He didn’t look like he’d been sleeping much either. Like he was feeling just as rough as she had. His hair a bit out of place, the shirt he was wearing slightly rumpled up from what she assumed he’d been sleeping - or trying to - sleep in. And yet he was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

It was like he’d literally jumped right out of bed to see her, which both warmed and broke her heart at the same time. How willing he still was even after everything she put him through. In the dead of night, they had a second look around to make sure nothing was out of place or that nobody happened to be lurking around. They searched every room from top to bottom, two pairs of eyes on everything this time. When they were both satisfied that all was well, and that maybe Zoe was running on fumes due to overexhaustion and that maybe - though Eric never explicitly stated it - she was well and truly paranoid. Which led to this moment, Zoe sitting up, her body under thick blankets with him perched at the edge of her bed, close enough she could reach out and touch him but it wouldn’t be enough. “I just feel like an idiot,” she muttered under her breath, “Getting you out of bed in the dead of night for nothing but to prove that I’ve finally lost it and...” Finally, she looked at him, rushing her words out a little before he had the chance to reply. Judging by the look in his eyes, he disagreed with her, about being an idiot at least. She shook her head in silent protest, a sigh combined with a yawn escaping her lips. Funny, how despite everything, they could still have a conversation without words. 

That was the problem though, wasn’t it? When words weren’t involved, they could communicate perfectly. It was just words that were difficult. But not even that… the problem was Zoe’s inability to handle problems like a normal person. Her problem was not being forthright and as open as Eric had been with her. And immediately jumping to the defense over the smallest thing, which inevitably landed them in their current predicament. Which was why she was trying to sleep - and failing - in her own damn bed and not his/formerly theirs anymore. At a loss of anymore words, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, like he might evaporate into thin air the second she averted her eyes. Even though he literally just promised her he would stay until she was awake. He deserved so much better. Those wretched thoughts of self hatred racked her brain once more, begging to swallow her whole. It was like trying to walk through the fog but never reaching the clear. But Eric was like the light that would lead the way, guide her to him. 

“You should sleep with me.” The words were out before Zoe had a chance to word them in a better way. What she said never even clicked until she saw his face contort with confusion, mouth opening and closing a few times like he was scrambling for something to say because he hadn’t expected it either. “Oh. I didn’t mean…” She could blame the exhaustion seeping in. She hadn’t slept in days. That was a perfectly acceptable excuse, right? “I meant…you said you’d stay until I woke up and I know that shitty couch is uncomfortable as fuck from my own experience. You’ll get a bad back, so…” She paused, clearing her throat as her memory brought her back to their last moment as a them, involving a couch - his - and how less comfy hers was compared to that one. Being snuggled up in his arms, his hands on her skin, both love and despair brought on by her own wrongdoing and misunderstanding. The last time she felt whole. Back to reality. “So, um. You’re not sleeping there. I know we’re not…but you can sleep here. Much comfier. Just…take off your shoes.” A slight hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she shuffled over, pulling the duvet down for him and patting it in an attempt to beckon him. 

It was then, and only then, Zoe felt like she could finally settle down. The calmness his presence brought to her, the sound of his breathing put her at ease and quietened all the noise in her head. She faced him as he settled down beside her, watched how he had no problem getting comfy, but it was like he was somewhat trying to keep a distance. She couldn’t blame him for that, she ended it after all. But instinctively, she urged slightly closer. It was selfish, really, but she couldn’t help herself. Sighing softly, she let her eyes close as she sank down into her pillows, into well needed rest. “Thank you, for being here, for coming here,” she murmured like a hushed secret, like the darkness would hold her secrets close to her chest. “And for what it’s worth, I really have missed you,” she trailed off as sleep called out to her, unsure why the words slipped out but it was the truth. If she’d been less exhausted and more lucid, she probably could’ve stopped herself. It was selfish, it was unfair of her to say this to Eric after all she’d put him through. But it was the last thing she’d uttered before she fell asleep, and by the time she woke up, she probably wouldn’t remember. 

[hyunjilicious]

I just read what is and what should never be and it was PHENOMENAL! I love everything you write anyway so I was wondering if you could do a small one where Bucky is alone and depressed and he calls yn because he feels lost and she is just there for him? No worries if you can't! I love you anyway 💕

Omg!! You’re too sweet! I really wanted to do this one justice, but I suck at angst... I love you too!! and I’m sorry if this sucks!

Summary: after the events of Endgame, you and Bucky part ways. Even though you haven’t spoken in months, when he needs you, you’re there ANGST 2.2k

Warnings: overall angsty vibes. Sad Bucky. Idk depictions of depression I guess? shitty writing!

“You came” Bucky's surprised tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Before saying anything else, you shook your head in disbelief. From certain points of view, he looked exactly the same as when you last saw him months ago, but if you looked past his rugged exterior, it was very easy to tell something was truly eating away at his heart.

“Of course I came” you frowned, “You called me”

“Thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Bucky mumbled.

You looked him up and down, thoroughly confused by his statement, but decided to keep the tone of the conversation from going too dark too fast. “Shut up, Barnes” you scoffed, “Don’t even joke about that.” A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips, but it was forced, you could easily tell he wasn’t truly being himself. “What’s up?”

Bucky took a deep breath as if gathering the courage to word his thoughts. When his eyes met yours he flinched, the pain clouding his otherwise bright blue eyes. He started with a long sigh and a shake of his head but then, cringed as he finally spoke up. “I need help”

His confession went directly to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Whatever it is, you got it, but what-”

“Nothing happened” Bucky stopped you, “I need help”

“I don’t understand”

“I need someone to-” he sighed, closing his eyes as his head fell forward in what could only be described as shame, “I need someone to talk to” and it was funny, considering he just walked out of his psychiatrist’s office. “Someone that’s not paid to listen to me” he added, “Someone who understands”

It was moments like these that you truly wished Steve was still here. Or Nat. Your best friends, yes, but they were the glue that held you all together, and now in their absence, you were all threatening to fall apart. 

But of course you’d be there for Bucky. Whatever he needed you were more than eager to provide, but at the same time, you were fully aware that your capabilities were limited. You didn’t lack the understanding or the experience, but you lacked the words. You had the sympathy, but not the advice he needed. But you were there. Like you have always been and always will be, so, that afternoon you ended up on his living room floor.

Surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol that had no effect on either of you whatsoever, you sat and listened to him rant his heart out until his throat couldn’t take it anymore. And then he broke down - completely. A full on mess, tears staining his cheeks as the temperature dropped in the room with every other pained groan he’d release. But he let it all out and the weight he had been carrying on his shoulder was unimaginable. There were too many things eating away at his heart, but the guilt was what kept him under its spell, what kept him up for the last months, what was physically destroying him.

“Y/n... “ he called for you, face hidden in his hands as he spoke, “I know you’re gonna say no, but-”

“No,” you stopped him, “Then don’t ask me”

“Please”

“No, Bucky” you sighed, grabbing his wrist so you could look him in the eyes, “If you already know it’s a bad idea, please don’t tell me because I’m afraid I’ll actually go through with it right now”

“But i can’t fucking sleep!” he cried out loud, falling back against the couch, arms propped up on his knees, “I keep having the same nightmares over and over again, and I can’t take it anymore”

“You don’t-” you took a deep breath, “You don’t want me to erase your mind, do you?”

The look in his eyes proved that that was exactly what he wanted. And the unshed tears that coated the otherwise pure and radiant blue of his eyes was almost enough to convince you.

“Please-” he begged, “I-”

“No, Buck” you shook your head and shuffled to face him properly, “As time passes, it’s only gonna get worse. The past will eventually catch up to you. You’ll want to know what you did”

He didn’t have it in him to fight you, so silence settled for a while. “You know sedatives don’t work on me?”

“I… never thought about it, but that makes sense”

Bucky gathered his lips into a tight line and nodded his head.

“Lady shrink isn’t of any help?” you asked.

“I have no clue what she’s doing” he shrugged, “Maybe it’s good in the long run, but fuck if I know how she expects me to make any kind of progress right now”

“You are, tho” you reassured him, “Making progress I mean”

“Am I?” Bucky laughed incredulously.

“Yes! You’re almost completely on your own feet. You really pushed through”

“Or maybe I’m just ignoring all of my problems”

“You just told me about them” you chuckled, and threw an arm over his shoulders.

Hesitatingly at first, he eventually leaned in into your hold, allowing himself to completely fall against your chest. “I hate this”

“I think that’s a given” you laughed, curling your fingers around the roots of his way too short hair. “A wise man once said that whenever someone acts like they have their shit together, they’re either lying or delusional”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know” you confessed, “I saw that on the internet”

For the first time that night, you actually heard him laugh, and it sounded so good - it was short and weak, but it was sweet and honest. “That’s a pathetic attempt at cheering me up, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it” Bucky said as he pushed himself up.

“I wish I could do more” you mumbled, “But I don’t know what, or how, but-”

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that” you smiled.

He didn’t know that. He’d never stop thanking you for even the smallest gestures. The day where Bucky would understand that kindness, in some cases, is a given, was far away, but you had the patience and determination to work for it.

As you talked and talked, and the topic of conversation kept shifting from one area to the other, the sun set, night settling outside his small windows. It was time for you to leave, and you would’ve done it, had he asked you not to at the last second.

You had your shoes on and one hand on the door handle, when he stumbled over his words, obviously too shy to properly hold his ground. “Actually can you- can you-” he mumbled, pointing to his couch, “Can you stay here tonight?”

And of course you did. The night didn’t last much longer after that, with Bucky settling on the floor, only a blanket to keep him company, and you sprawled out on the couch as silence settled.

But your mind was too busy to drift off. You knew his’ was too, but decided to refrain from speaking up, hoping to let him fall asleep, even for a short while.

It was loud inside your head. You always promised yourself you’d never intrude on someone’s thoughts and read through them without their approval, but you physically felt Bucky radiate energy, and your mind just slipped. But then, your heart almost stopped.

You saw yourself. You saw yourself slapping him back in Wakanda when he decided to go under ice again, you saw yourself moving a car out of his way back in Bucharest, when you risked your life for his because you trusted Steve that much, and because you were that good of a friend. You saw yourself at Tony’s funeral, eyes shiny with tears and then felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hug yourself - and then realised it wasn’t your urge, it was Bucky’s. At this point, your heart beat so fast you were actually afraid he’d hear it. But when goosebumps appeared all over your skin, you realised he couldn’t hear you, that he was asleep and that the nightmares started materializing. 

What convinced you to act on it was the sudden jerk of his body and the way to fully tensed instantly after. So, unable to just sit and watch, you rolled over to the side and allowed your hand to fall by his temple, little specks of light rolling off the tips of your fingers as you forced the thoughts away. Seconds later, you saw him relax and shift around, gathering the blanket he laid on to his chest as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

His relaxed form and the steady pace of his breathing put a smile on your face. But you made the mistake of thinking this was a one time thing, however, before you realised, you found yourself leaning over him again, ushering yet another wave of nightmares away. And it kept being an ongoing process until the sun rose, and you cursed yourself as you did not get one second of shut eye. But it was worth it. The sight of him finally resting, knowing he spent his night in his happy place that you this time did not intrude on, made up for your tiredness. 

When Bucky drifted out of his deep sleep, you figured it was safe to relax too. But knowing that if you went to sleep right now you wouldn’t wake up until noon, you stood up, determined to give him the full best friend experience.

But all you found in his kitchen was a box of stale cereal, a soft cucumber and candy wrappers. Had he not looked so adorable sleeping shirtless and curled into a ball on the floor, you would have woken him up yelling. But instead, you decided to order some food, and the simple fact that the sound of the delivery guy ringing the doorbell didn’t wake him up, actually terrified you. With a life like yours, no one sleeps that deeply, but then there he was, snoring away the late hours of the morning. 

By the time he finally stirred awake, the food was already cold, and you were bored out of your mind. “What- what time is it?” he mumbled, voice rich with sleep.

“A little bit past 2” you yawned from your spot on the couch.

“2 pm?” Bucky huffed, sitting up in a hurry and rushing to grab his phone. “What the-” he turned to you confused, “It’s 2pm…”

“Yeah” you sighed, “And the food is cold”

“Food?” Bucky gawked, looking over at the small table by the window, “You got food?”

“You didn’t have any” you defended yourself. You wanted to scold him for not taking better care of himself, but he looked so homey and cozy and vulnerable, that you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Eventually, you stood up and walked over to him. “I’ll let you eat, Buck, but I gotta go” you sighed, giving him a hug, “Got some stuff to do” you lied, by stuff meaning sleep, since you were exhausted.

“Yeah, of course” he mumbled in agreement, wrapping his arms around your frame, and bringing you closer. He sank his head into the crook of your neck, holding you to his chest for a moment longer than you would have considered friendly. But you didn’t complain, his hold was stern and loving, and you really needed that right now. “Thank you” Bucky added when he finally let you go. His right palm cupped your cheek as he looked down at you, awe and admiration in his eyes.

“Nothing to thank me for, Buck” you smiled, and then pulled away.

He silently watched you get ready to leave, following you around until you reached the door and turned around to say goodbye. And it was weird. Your heart boomed against your ribcage, and you didn’t have to read his thoughts to know he was feeling the same kind of nervous. And it may have been the one too many stories you read but you actually feared something was going to happen. Thankfully, it didn’t. Instead you shared another hug, and parted ways.

However, all you managed to do was reach the staircase before you heard his door open, followed by the sound of his bare feet sprinting down the hallway. “What are you-”

“Can you stay?” he asked, shaking from head to toe, “In New York I mean, can you please stay? Just a few more days”

“Well, I- yeah, I guess I can” you mumbled.

“I just, I need a few more days. You’re screwing my head back on, I just need you now. Steve is gone, and Sam is all the way in Louisiana and I hate phones and I-”

“Wow-” you laughed, “I’m not even the second choice, I’m the third?”

“Shut up, Y/n” Bucky frowned, “Stop being a smartass for a second”

“I’m sorry” you rolled your eyes, but he didn’t care.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky threw his arms around your shoulders and hugged you close, and you weren’t sure if the ‘I love you’ that echoed inside your mind had actually been spoken or just thought, but it was everything you never knew you needed.

[tojisveryown]

𝙸𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 | 𝟶𝟻

© 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚓𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚋𝚢𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛

𝙰𝚌: 𝚠𝚃𝟼𝙸𝙳𝟸𝚀𝟺𝙰𝙺𝚄𝟿𝚏𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚝

𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟸𝙺

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝙰𝚄, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜. 𝙸 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 "𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝" 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛. (𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚐𝚗!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞.)

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟻 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

(𝚄𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍)

⋆ 💌 ⋆

The next morning you were greeted with a hangover thanks to everything you consumed. Your head was pounding and your body felt gross. The faint memory of waking up next to Gojo popped in your head. “Damn I wish I woke up to him everyday.” 

“Woke up next to who everyday?” Utahime asked as she was in the middle of brushing her hair, “You know Y/N I never imagined you to be such a lightweight, it was so hard to bring you back here without you rambling about such nonsense.” 

“Huh? Wasn’t I sober when I went to go look for you?” The memory of you waking up and giving Gojo a kiss on the cheek before looking for Utahime popped in your head, you and sworn you woke up sober. 

“Yeah, barely.” She sat down at the edge of your bed giving you a stern look “Do you know how many times I had to keep you from falling over? You almost fell down the stairs, twice. You’re lucky Gojo was upstairs, without him you wouldn’t have made it out alive.” 

Huh, so he helped you after ignoring you and treating you like an outcast? What a bastard. “You know Y/N you should really be careful. Next time make sure you watch over your drinks.” 

“What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?” 

“Well no.. it’s just that someone spiked your drink. If Nanami hadn’t taken care of you someone probably would’ve taken advantage of you so please for the love of god watch what you drink, for me?” you gave her a smile, she was worried about you and you were glad you had someone like her by your side, it’s not everyday you’re blessed with a good roommate like Utahime. 

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The up coming week was the last week before spring break came around, which meant you only had two months before the deadline for the project came to an end, that same project where you had shitty partner that abandoned you.

As the morning came around you were able to wake up in a pretty good mood. Today was the last day before break and you were glad to be getting some rest. Unlike the other students on campus you weren’t able to go back home due to the money it costs to get a ticket. You weren’t financially stable during your high school years which led you into the mindset that since you weren’t able to afford the newest items everyone was getting that you didn’t deserve to socialize. You were that weird kid who sat in the back drowning yourself in music or getting lost in a good book. You will never forget the first time you had an interaction with Gojo. 

You were seated at the very back of the class, eyes darting from left and right as the book you were indulged in sat in front of you. The loud noises of the students coming into first period had no effect in the way you enjoyed the book. You were getting to the climax of the story, getting so lost into the plot that you didn’t even notice him come in. 

“Hey, whatcha reading?” The tall white haired boy slipped the book out of your hand to take a look at it. “No Longer Human, huh?” 

You wanted to die, you hated how you got his attention, you didn’t want it, you didn’t want the kids in your class analyzing you too much. You didn’t want them to find out you were struggling with money, they’d treat you different. They already do.

“Mmm mind if I keep this?” he stuck his face in your personal bubble, his sunglasses at the edge of his nose, eyes piercing yours as he awaited your answer.

“Um.. yes, please give it back.” a small voice escaped your lips. 

“Why? It’s just some book you can buy again, is it because someone special gave it to you?” he was teasing you, the book was in your face as he began to sway it from side to side, leaving it in your reach and taking it out.

“No I’m just not done with it.”

“Mmm, too bad. ‘m keeping it.” Your face dropped and you allowed him to take your belonging. You watched as he sat down in his seat flipping through the pages of the book that once belonged to you.

Your mother struggled to earn the money needed for the textbooks your school wanted you to obtain, you hated seeing your mom bend herself backwards. You’ve always offered to get a job to financially support her but your mother wouldn’t allow it. She wanted you to have a normal childhood. You never saw her much but due to the amount of jobs she took on but you knew the love she held for you was greater than the father that left you. 

You and your father weren’t the absolute closest ever since he decided to leave but he still tried to have somewhat of a bond with you, he’d send you books and your mother would write back to him saying how much you loved reading them, the book Gojo had taken from you was the last book your dad had sent your before staring another family with another woman. 

The last thing he’s ever left you now lies in the hands of a stranger. Of course it didn’t bother you as much as it should but you couldn’t help but long for the moment of having the book back in your hands.

It was a fresh new semester and your mother couldn’t afford the textbooks that you needed. You knew that you had to drop out and attend a much cheaper school. 

You awaited the day you’d talk to your councilor along with your head teacher, during that day you wished you could get that damn book back, it was just a book but part of you saw it as something more because it was gifted to you from your dad. 

“Hello, good after noon Ms. Kalaber, Mr. Henderson.” you walked into the office and took a seat in one of the vacant chairs.

“Hello Y/N, are you hear to talk about your transfer?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to do so. I really enjoy coming here but it’s been hard on my mother and I to financially keep up and I think it’d be better for us if we made a switch.” 

“Yes of course I understand..” The three of you spent the next few minutes talking about schools that would accept you in open arms, the meeting ended up earlier than expected and you were on your way out but a certain somebody bumped into you causing the transfer papers along with school recommendations to slip from your hands.

Your second interaction with him. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” Of course you couldn’t you’re 6′4. He crouched down helping you collect that papers, slowly noticing what the papers were. “Hey, you’re transferring?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.. why?” you stayed silent and began dusting off the papers from any dirt since they did fall on a school floor. “Ah, never mind you don’t have to answer that. Well see you, I guess?”

You and Gojo parted ways.

The next morning would be your last at the high school you spent almost four years at. Your heart felt heavy knowing no one would realize you left, after all you were just one of the kids that no one really paid any attention to. 

In the middle of your first period you were summoned to the office, your mother was seated in the chair you sat in the pervious day. “Y/N, good morning. We have some news!” Long story short someone paid off the expenses for your textbooks and any financial contract you were under while attending the school. 

You didn’t really care. It’s not like you were thrilled to stay, you weren’t exactly thrilled to attend a brand school either. You just accepted whatever was given to you. Even if you wanted to know who suddenly paid off the financial fees you couldn’t since they decided to remain anonymous. You were grateful however you couldn’t help but feel as if they looked down on you. Although their intentions were very different from what you thought.

Your senior year flashed before your eyes, the amount of days left before graduation were alarming to you, you knew what college you were going to, you applied for a scholarship and with the grades you had you were able to easily get it. After all you didn’t have any friends to hang out with so you mostly studied instead of getting yourself caught in things you knew weren’t good for you.

You’ve only had two encounters with the guy who stole your book, and yet you were hoping to see him again. To get the book back of course.

During the going away party for all the seniors a tall figure waited for you to show in hopes that he’d be able to return what was once yours. He wanted a chance to talk to you again. He wanted the message he left inside one of the pages to reach you, but it never did since you believed no one wanted you there.

You imprinted in your mind that everyone would judge you for having money struggles, you gave yourself the thought that they’d judge you for the kind of clothes you wore, or the kind of person you were. 

You failed to realize that your first friend was never Utahime, but the boy who sought for your arrival 

⋆ 💌 ⋆

During the last Friday of your first semester you had decided to be productive, you were in a great mood. You started the day off by going to the cafe to read a bit, you were reading a book that Nanami had recommended to you. 

The two of you had slowly gotten closer over a short period of time, you were glad to have someone timid and reasonable by your side. He was also reliable. Unlike stupid Satoru Gojo. 

Before class started you got yourself along with Nanami a cup of coffee,  “This is what you like right?” He pulled his glasses down to sit at the tip of his nose. “What, is this not what you get?” 

“No it is, thank you Y/N.” His hand reached out to grab the cup of black coffee in your hand, his fingertips brushed against yours, so warm. “I just didn’t expect you to get me one is all.”

“Mhm, why not? Didn’t I tell you that I owed you? I owe you even more after what you did at that stupid party.” 

“Ah, that.” you watched as he took a sip of his coffee, “It’s nothing, I’d rather not let a girl like you be used.” 

A girl like you, What the hell is that supposed to mean. “What do you mean a girl like me?” You couldn’t help but think negatively about what he said, would it have been better to not make friends and remain the quiet kid whose face was always buried in a book? 

“Relax, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re a sweet girl is all, you shouldn’t have to go through anything more than what you’ve already gone through.” 

“Like you know what I’ve gone through.”

“I know more than you think.” 

“Shut up you sick asshole, who even drinks black coffee?” 

“What does my coffee have to do with trauma?”

“Shut up Nanamin.”

Nanami smiled into his cup before taking a sip. “You’re a lot like him..” he whispered.

“Huh? What did you say?” 

“Nothing.”

“’nami tell me.” 

“Enough with the nicknames.”

“’nami.”

⋆ 💌 ⋆

The day was almost over, as you were exciting the main building you caught a glimpse of all the people leaving campus. “Must be nice to go home to your family..” you sighed and followed the staircase the led to the exit closest to your dorm 

“What are you doing? Why are you making this so complicated?” Oh man a fight, this’ll be awkward. You prepared to take another step down the stairs until a very familiar voice spoke out. 

“I don’t have a choice.” you stopped your tracks as the familiar voice rung through your ears, you wanted more than anything to leave but your body wouldn’t move. 

“Bullshit. You did the same thing to me and Suguru.” another familiar voice rung in your ear, it was Utahime. “You can’t keep doing this Gojo.” 

“I know but it’s just a little while longer and th-”

“She really is right you know, you really are a stupid Satoru.” 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you swore you were gonna leave as soon as your body was able to move but the next few things you heard made you freeze. If it was quiet enough you’d be able to hear the sound of your heart beating, you head felt light and your body felt limp but you knew that you had to get out of there. 

You knew this wasn’t something you were supposed to know.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚢𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝. 𝙰𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚖𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝'𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗? 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚄𝚝𝚊𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚕. 𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚆𝙾𝙾𝙾𝙾!! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

⋆ 💌 ⋆

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @peppytine @enesitamor @fairyblue-alchemist @diluczs @honouredsatoru @thankuary @sookyshima

𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜. (𝟺/𝟸𝟿)

© 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚓𝚒𝚜𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛

⋆ 💌⋆

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Roommates - Theo x Reader

(gif source)

Summary: y/n’s landlord is increasing her rent once her lease is up. She has two options: move out or find a roommate. Theo, coincidentally, is looking for a new apartment.

Word count: 2105

Warnings: cursing, theo being a total house husband

a/n: and they were roommates

master list

“So then he finds out that Leia is his sister and- y/n, are you even listening?” Stiles cut himself off and looked over to where the y/h/c was nervously bouncing her leg. y/n’s head snapped up when she heard her name, nearly dropping her phone in the process.

“Uh, yeah, of course! I just um, keep going, I’m listening,” she replied unconvincingly. Her odd behavior caught the attention of the rest of the pack - not that they were really paying much attention to Stiles’s retelling of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi - causing the previous conversation to be forgotten.

“Okay, spill. There’s a handful of mostly human polygraphs in here and you’re a terrible liar. What’s up?” Malia grilled, looking at y/n expectantly. 

“It’s really nothing, everything’s fine,” y/n squeaked out, her ability to lie getting worse and worse with each word. After receiving another pointed look from Malia, she finally cracked. “Ugh, fine. I just got an email from my landlord that he’s bumping up the rent when my lease is up and I can’t afford to stay there by myself anymore,” y/n ranted. The group, minus y/n, glanced around at each other with frowns. Each and every one of them would drop everything to help y/n, but it just so happened that they were all already stuck in leases or didn’t have any extra rooms at their homes. After a few moments of silence, Theo piped up.

“I could be your roommate and split the rent if you want,” he offered nonchalantly. Stiles looked between Theo and y/n as if they’d both grown two heads. Before y/n could decline the offer, Theo continued. “My lease is almost up and your place is much nicer anyways. It’s a win win,” Theo pointed out casually and leaned back deeper into the cushions. 

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment as y/n mulled it over. It wasn’t a horrible idea. Having a chimera as a roommate was basically like having a top-of-the-line security system. Plus, between being a full-time student and working part-time, y/n was hardly home so it didn’t really matter who her roommate was, just as long as they did their fair share of chores.

“Sure, why not,” y/n replied warmly.

It had been about a month since Theo moved in. Aside from sleeping, y/n had spent very little time at their now shared apartment. If she wasn’t at school or working, she was spending time with the pack, which felt like a full time job in and of itself. Too bad they weren’t getting paid to keep the whole damn city safe. For what felt like the first time in months, y/n finally had an entire weekend off. No looming deadlines from her classes. No long and grueling shifts for work. No supernatural threats. 

When she got home that Friday night she dropped her purse by the door, toed her shoes off halfway through the room, and unceremoniously flopped down onto the couch, sighing loudly as she did so. 

“Well hello to you too,” Theo called as he entered the room stealthily. y/n jumped, startled by his presence.

“Jesus, I didn’t even know you were home. What are you, a ninja?” y/n asked, chest heaving slightly.

“Something like that,” Theo smirked, earning an unimpressed eye-roll from y/n. Theo moved to sit down on the couch next to her, making sure to leave a respectful distance between their bodies, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “So, you’ve been busy,” Theo began, striking up a light conversation. y/n snorted and leaned her head back into the cushions.

“You’ve got that right,” y/n groaned, running a hand through her tousled hair. The last thing y/n expected when Theo moved in was for him to be willing to hear her vent about school and work, but he actually seemed to enjoy the conversation and company. She told him about her lazy group project members and the sleazy old men who came to the diner she waitressed at. She told him how poetic justice had been served when one particularly disgruntled customer slipped and fell on the drink that he’d intentionally spilled when a waitress wouldn’t give him her number. Theo actually laughed in response to that story, his gleeful chuckle brought a warm smile to y/n’s face. 

“I didn’t mean to unload on you, thanks for listening though,” y/n finished shyly. Theo brushed off her comment.

“That was entertaining, thank you,” Theo replied with his signature grin. y/n felt heat rise to her cheeks but turned away before Theo could notice.

“Anyways… as much as I’d love to not move from this couch for the next 48 hours, I should probably clean up a bit. I’ve been a pretty shitty roommate,” y/n grimaced as she forced herself off of the couch. Theo gave her a puzzled look and patted the spot next to him on the couch, rolling his eyes when she seemed unwilling to sit back down.

“You’ve hardly been here since I moved in. I don’t think you’ve eaten a meal here, much less made a mess. Except for maybe your shoes in the middle of the floor,” he pointed out, gesturing towards her anti-slip waitressing sneakers. y/n’s face continued to burn as she moved to kick the shoes towards the shoe rack by the door. Naturally, she turned to sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

“What shoes? I don’t see any shoes,” y/n quipped slyly, waltzing back across the room to once again sink into the couch. Theo chuckled wordlessly at her antics and tore his eyes away from her to look at the TV.

“Friends or The Office?”

As luck would have it, y/n’s free weekend was short lived and the following Monday she was back to her never ending stream of school work and back-to-back work shifts. Fortunately, she was able to run home during her lunch break and wisely chose to use the time for a well-deserved nap. As she pulled out her keys to open the apartment door, she heard mechanical humming coming from inside. Truth be told, she had yet to figure out what kind of roommate Theo was, much less come close to understanding the walking enigma, so she had no idea what she was about to walk into. Was he building something? Did he figure out a way to bring the dread doctors back? Was he doing something unspeakable with a lady friend that would surely scar y/n for years to come?

As y/n mentally prepared herself for the horror movie that she was expecting to walk into, she inserted her keys in the lock. I need a fucking nap, whatever weird shit going on behind this door be damned. She pushed the door open with tense shoulders and hesitantly peered into the apartment. There stood Theo. Not holding any tools, not actively in cahoots with the nightmarish scientists that occupied part of their high school days, and (thank God) fully clothed...

But vacuuming.

Her murderous, half-human, former dirt bag roommate was vacuuming. Like a bona fide house husband. 

Theo heard the door softly close shut behind y/n and he turned to face her, unplugging the vacuum machine in the process.

“What’s with all of this?” y/n asked hesitantly, gesturing vaguely to the vacuum cleaner and the various cleaning supplies set out on the coffee table. Theo glanced at the area around him, proud of his work.

“I had some time to kill so I figured I’d clean up a bit. I’m pretty much done now so I shouldn’t bother you if you’re studying or…” he trailed off, giving y/n an opportunity to fill in the blank.

“Ha, I probably should, but no. I will be dead asleep for the next thirty minutes and then I have to head to the diner for a double shift,” she groaned and shrugged off her jacket as she made her way towards her room. Considering the fact that it was only noon on a Monday, y/n seemed far too tired. Theo frowned for a moment and genuinely considered going to have nice civilized chats with her manager and professors. That’s probably a bad idea though. Unless...

For some reason unbeknownst to y/n, her professors had begun to show some mercy in the number of papers and projects they assigned. Her manager at the diner even offered to decrease the hours she worked each week if she was feeling overwhelmed. Theo wore a knowing grin when a joyful y/n came home one day and explained this all to him. If y/n caught his mischievous smirk, she certainly didn’t call him out on it. With all of her newfound free time, y/n decided that she wanted to host a pack movie night at their apartment.

“Alright, the pizza is on the way and Scott is bringing snacks. We should probably get the movie set up before Stiles gets here and somehow convinces us all to watch Star Wars again,” y/n rattled off while she paced the apartment to make sure everything was in order. “I washed a bunch of blankets earlier, could you take them out of the dryer and put them on the couch?” y/n requested as she anxiously walked to the kitchen and began pulling out plates and cups. Theo nodded gently as he popped into the kitchen to check things out.

“Don’t stress too much. As long as there’s people and pizza, everyone will be happy,” Theo said, attempting to ease her anxiety. y/n smiled lightly at his words and took a deep breath. Lately he seemed to have some magical ability to calm her down. Theo left the kitchen to take care of the blankets while y/n put together a makeshift snack bar, complete with plates, bowls for snacks, and beer. The pizza and most of the pack arrived just as y/n and Theo were finishing up with their respective jobs. The pizza delivery boy seemed a little scared by the tall, muscled men and tiny but mighty women surrounding him so she gave him a decent tip and rolled her eyes at her friends’ naturally intimidating nature. After y/n ushered them all inside and set the pizza down on the kitchen counter, she joined the rest of the pack in the living room. To her surprise, the blankets had been neatly set out around the room and folded with expert precision. She sent Theo an impressed smile and winked when she thought no one was looking.

Stiles was the last to arrive and much to his disappointment Ghostbusters had already been set up on the TV. It didn’t take long for everyone to grab food and get situated around the living room, so by the time y/n was done buzzing around the apartment like a madwoman to get everything situated there was only one spot left on the couch. y/n knew that her friends - aside from Stiles - weren’t actively trying to hurt Theo’s feelings, but seeing him tucked into the corner of the couch distanced away from everyone pained her more than she’d admit.

So, she did what any good friend would do. Not only did she gladly take the spot on the couch next to him, but she also casually tossed her legs over his and covered the two of them with a blanket. The action definitely earned her a few raised eyebrows, including from Theo, but no one dared to call them out. y/n was able to easily ignore the sideways glances they earned throughout the course of the movie, mostly because she had fallen asleep about 15 minutes in. By the end of the movie her head had fallen to lazily rest on Theo's shoulder and he had subconsciously pulled her in closer to his side.

After the movie finished and they spent some time catching up, the rest of the pack began to trickle out of y/n and Theo’s apartment. Lydia was the last to leave so she offered to lock the door behind her so that Theo wouldn’t have to move and wake y/n. Lydia tossed out a few stray cups on her way out the door, and because she was never one to tell secrets, she definitely didn’t send the girls a picture of Theo and y/n now both passed out and cuddling on the couch.

a/n: this seemed like a great idea in the shower and now i’m not sure i even like it but i hope you enjoyed :)

edit: enjoy my best friend’s live reaction to this fic

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[hiddennerdworld]

Homesick (pt 3) with Katsuki Bakugou

Note: Hi! This is long I'm sorry fakldj;vnj. Also I didn't know how to end it. And I didn't proofread well. It's a mess, BUT a fluffy, cozy mess. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did :)

———————————————————————

It was Friday night and you were having a movie marathon with the Bakusquad. You had hoped it would take your mind off things, but once everyone had passed out on the couch, it was no help. You gently moved Mina's head and Kirishima's arm off of you and headed to the kitchen where you found Boom Boom Boi hanging by the counter. This didn’t really phase you because you were all friends. You were only super close to Kaminari and Mina, but you still knew the others well enough.

“Oi! What are you doing in here, idiot?” He asked looking up from his phone.

“Well hello to you too. I’m just grabbing some water. Why are you in here anyway? You’re supposed to be watching the movie with us, you know."

“Not that it’s any of your damn business but I got bored. I can’t believe you guys like to watch that shit. I don’t believe a lot of the stuff you guys do. I’m surprised you didn’t all parade in here like a bunch of dumbasses!”

You giggle to yourself as you join him at the counter with your glass of water. “They’re actually all asleep. It’s kinda hilarious if you look at it. They’re like spaghettied together.”

“And you’re not with them? I thought we wEre SuPpoSed to Be waTcHinG thE mOVie ToGeThER?” As usual, Kacchan took great pride in mocking you. He has the widest smug grin on his face. However, he noticed you weren’t firing back as much as you normally would. Even with the voice and stupid faces he made you still just stared at your glass.

“Eh I mean you’re right but I couldn’t sleep and the movie sucks if there isn’t constant commentary from Kaminari.”

“Don’t blame you. Shitty Hair’s snoring wakes me up half the time.”

“Nah it’s not that. I just-.... I don’t know. Nevermind.” You were getting all flustered and fidgety now.

“Well, something is on your mind because you’re being so fucking weird. Just spit it out!” He was now doing his usual seething while waiting.

“Okay fine! I-I just miss my family I guess. It’s stupid but that’s why I can’t relax or fall asleep. And it’s just gotten worse the longer we’ve been at the dorms.”

“You’re not stupid.” He mumbled and you short your head up to look at him. Did Lord Explosion Murder just say something not insulting? To you?

“Everyone misses home. Who wants to live at their fucking high school? Hell, I even miss my parents sometimes. My dad may be a wimp, but he fucking knows how to cook.”

“Mine too. He would make my family pancakes for breakfast every weekend.” You sighed and looked back down. You guys sat in silence for a while. Bakugou had no clue what to do. All of a sudden he sighed and grabbed your wrist. “Come on, loser. It’s late we’re going to bed.”

Now you had no clue what to do. What the hell was he doing? “Uh no that’s okay Bakugou! You go ahead I’ll stay here and keep an eye on them.” You said trying to resist but he just kept dragging you along.

“They’re fine. Probably won’t even be up until noon tomorrow. So let’s go!” He kept dragging you along and you finally ended up at your door. Luckily it wasn’t locked so he just swung it open and threw you in bed. He pointed a finger at you and said “stay there” and stomped out. And you listened, waiting to see what he was up to. A few minutes later he returned with a blanket and pillow and flopped then on the floor and slammed the door shut.

“What are y-“ you start to speak but are interrupted.

“I’m staying in here so you’ll go to sleep and get out of your sappy mood and I don’t have to listen to your bullshit tomorrow. Now goodnight.” He started to get set up on the floor. Of course, in a very aggressive manner, grumbling the whole time.

“Well if that’s the plan we can share the bed if you want. There’s plenty of room.” You said quietly, not wanting to look at him while saying it.

“Pch- fine if that’ll get you to sleep faster.” With that, he threw his stuff on the floor and crawled into bed next to you. Once he got under the blanket you could feel a wave of heat. This mans is a fucking furnace. He flipped with his back towards you and pulled on the blanket.

You faced away from him too and said “Thank you. Goodnight Bakugou.” You were smiling to yourself. “Yeah, whatever.”

Almost falling asleep a few times but waking yourself back up, you still couldn’t sleep. You knew Katsuki was out tho because of his soft snoring. Still trying your best you moved around to get more comfortable. This led to Bakugou putting his arm on you. You froze and your eyes widened. Was he doing this on purpose? Did you wake him up? Why isn’t he yell- Your panic was stopped by the boy continuing to snore. Phew, at least you didn’t have to worry about that. Continuing to try to get comfortable, you tried to nuzzle closer to him and he pulled you close. You soon fell asleep with a little smile on your face.

———————————————————————

The next morning you woke up with the sun shining in your eyes. You expected to wake up just as you fell asleep, in Bakugou’s arms. Oh, you were ready to give him so much shit about it. But you soon felt the lack of warmth from your side and flipped over to realize the boy and his stuff was gone. You shrugged. Of course he was already up. That boy rises with the sun. So with not being able to tease Kacchan, you got ready to see if the others were up yet.

As soon as you walked out of your dorm you found Kaminari.

“Hey! There you are Y/N!” He ran up and gave you a hug. “Where’d you run off to last night?”

After being so kind to you, you decided the least you could do is keep your mouth shut about what happened with Bakugou. “Oh, I just went to bed after you all fell asleep. Too many times where I almost got kicked in the face. Plus, Kiri snores sound like a construction site.”

He chuckled at that last bit. “That’s true, but you get used to it after a while. Well, we all missed you. Wanna hang with us in a bit? We can sneak some of the food Bakubro is making.”

“Oh yea, for sure! See you later, Kami.” You both did finger guns as you walked away. After you turned the corner, you turned around and kept walking. Kacchan was cooking? Usually he’d be out training by now? You quirked up your brow and kept going, curious to see the goodies that were being made. As you got closer and closer, the sweet scent of whatever was being cooked got stronger. Now super hungry, you skipped into the kitchen. There you found the spiky blonde wearing an apron and flipping pancakes. Your heart swelled with happiness. You stood frozen but your smiled radiated warmth. He was doing something nice? For someone else? For you??! You ran up and gave him a hug. A blush quickly rose to his cheeks.

“Oi! What the hell are you doing dumbass?!” He lifted his arms and looked down at you holding his waist and resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re making pancakes?! I can’t believe you remembered, Bakugou!” You gave him a squeeze.

“This isn’t because of all that shit you said last night! Listen, I’m making these because you put the idea in my head and I needed to make them! I’m making these because I want to! For me! Got it?!”

You let go and gave him a grin, “Well then why are you making so many?”

“THAT’S JUST HOW MANY THE RECIPE MAKES!!! You can have some if you shut up about it!”

“Yes, sir!” You said giving him a fake salute. Then you skipped away, running into Kaminari who was heading into the kitchen.

“Nice! You’re making pancakes, Bakubro?!” He tried picking one up from the finished pile and Bakugou slapped him away.

“GO GET YOUR OWN DAMN FOOD, SPARKY!!!”

“You’re really telling me you’re gonna eat all of these? Yea, right.” He said while trying again to get a pancake which ended the same way as it did before.

After slapping him away again Bakugou looked up and gave him a nasty glare. “I said they aren’t for you.”

Kaminari then backed away with his hands up. “Okay, sheesh. I get it. Pancakes are good man, no judgment here.”

Then after a little while, Bakugou came into the dining area with two plates. He sat across from you and placed the plates on the table. A big smile grew across your face. “Yay! I’m excited to try them.” You take a bite, “Mmmmmm! These are so good!”

“Tch- I know. Spent so much time on ‘em they better be fuckin good.”

You guys ate together, barely talking but that was alright. Bakugou kept looking up every so often when you weren’t looking to make sure you liked them. His ego doubled after seeing you so happy. Soon, you finished your amazing breakfast. So you got up and walked to the other side of the table. “Thanks again.” You said softly. Then you bent down and gave him another hug and a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m gonna go finish getting ready for the day.”You grabbed your plate and rushed back towards the kitchen with a blushing, smiling face.

Bakugou was broken for a sec. Poor boy didn’t know how to react. He just grumbled under his breath, trying to sound angry to hide the fact he was smiling and his face was bright red. At least he got you out of your shitty mood. That was the goal, right? (Soon after he told you that he may like you more than most people. Dude can’t hide what he’s feeling, so he just spits it out. You gave him lots of more hugs and kisses after that.)

———————————————————————

BONUS!

Kaminari yelled to Bakugou from across the room. “Hey Bakubro! You have any food left from your date with Y/N??!!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!!!”

Kaminari heard sparks and ran for his life.

[rileywrites]

Hi you say in your bio that prompts are open but I still want to ask and make sure. I have one for nile/booker, the first time both of them said "I love you" to the other. Thank you if you decide to write this! Also wanted to say your book of nile series is AMAZING! I am always excited getting the emails of a new fic!

Prompts are absolutely open! Thank you so much for your lovely comments as well. <3

(Read on Ao3)

Nile has been immortal for fifteen years.

Dying never gets less terrifying and disorienting.

"C'mon, Nile, wake up."

Somehow, the least violent deaths can have the worst consequences. Nile knew the drink was poisoned as soon as she tasted it, but it was too late. Death came too fast to stop it and too slow to be a relief.

"Nile, I need you to wake up. I need you to stay with me."

It's hard to muster the energy to open her eyes. Puking yourself to death and then back to life will do that to you.

"Oh thank fuck." Booker looks like he's seen a ghost. He holds her up so she can retch without aspirating. "That's it, get the last of it out."

"Fuck." It comes out raw, voice ruined from the poison and the stomach acid.

"I couldn't agree more." Booker squeezes the back of her neck. "Let's get out of here, before they realize your body is gone."

"Help me?" Nile can tell her body isn't done healing yet.

"I've got you." Booker hoists her up, his arm around her waist and her arm around his shoulders. They've done this a thousand times before, so even Nile's weak body can handle the muscle memory. "Good?"

"As I can be." Everything hurts. "Fuck poison."

"Fuck poison," Booker agrees.

Nile lets her head hang as Booker maneuvers her back to the car. Keeping her eyes open is too hard.

The next time she regains full consciousness, Booker is carrying her into the safehouse. It's tiny, a bolt-hole Joe and Nicky bought in the '40s.

"You need to shower," Booker says, propping her against the counter. "Need help?"

"Please."

Booker disarms her, putting her weapons aside to clean later. Nile lifts her arms so he can get her shirt off.

"Careful, I don't want you to get any more vomit on you," he warns, maneuvering it over her head and tossing it on the floor. "I will burn that later."

Together, they get Nile out of her clothes and into the shower. Booker sits on the closed toilet lid to ensure she doesn't pass out again.

By the time she's clean, Nile is back to her baseline level of exhaustion.

"I'm good, Book."

Booker hands a towel around the shower curtain.

"I'll handle our clothes, then I'll take my turn."

Nile dries off some and wraps the towel around herself. Getting out of the shower is a bit of a risk, but Booker steadies her.

"Thanks. I'm gonna get dressed."

"And drink some water."

"And drink some water," Nile parrots, her smile belying her mocking tone.

Nile ends up wearing one of Booker's umpteen denim shirts and a pair of athletic shorts that were probably Joe's at some point. She makes a mental note to pick up some more clothes for her go-bag before they leave. They don't keep much at the less-used safehouses.

Booker will worry if she goes to sleep too soon, so Nile settles in one of the two mismatched chairs at the table wedged into the corner of the living space.

Booker strips to his underwear to examine the damage. The worst of their sullied clothes go into the furnace, the rest into the pile for laundry.

"I'll be quick," he promises. "Drink your water, and don't fall asleep without me there. Deal?"

"Deal." Nile crosses her heart. "Go, get clean. You deserve a hot shower."

She updates the team on the shitshow and stows her satellite phone in her backpack. She'll worry about the implications of this fuckery tomorrow. For now, she just wants to go to bed.

Booker emerges from the bathroom in clean underwear and a tank top, no longer smelling vaguely of Nile's death throes. He looks soft and cozy, damp hair hanging in his eyes.

"C'mon, bed time. You're mostly asleep already."

Nile gets into bed while Booker checks all the locks again. He joins her, crawling under the mountain of quilts and settling on his side facing her.

Nile holds out her hand, and he takes it, thumb skimming her pulse point.

"I'm okay," she whispers. "We're okay."

The long, painful deaths are always the hardest to cope with on both sides of the encounter.

"I know." Booker forces a tiny smile. "Get some sleep."

Nile is not in a place to argue. She tugs the quilts up to her chin with her free hand, closes her eyes, and slips almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

...

Nile wakes an unknown number of hours later alone, a note left on Booker's pillow.

Went to get some groceries. Eat something, please. Will be back by noon local. - B.

It's only eleven. She is hungry though, thanks to the total evacuation of dinner last night.

Nile finds a granola bar in the pantry that isn't stale yet. It'll do.

She's halfway through the (kind of shitty) granola bar when Booker gets back with the groceries.

"Look who's up. Catch." He pulls something out of the bag and tosses it at her. "I found the fancy juice you like."

Nile catches the bottle and grins.

"Fuck yeah. Shit like this is why I'm in love with you, Book."

She has the cap off and the bottle to her lips before the comment registers. Before she realizes how still Booker has become.

"Yeah?" He asks, carefully casual.

Nile takes stock. She doesn't want to answer this rashly.

Looking back at the past fifteen years through this lens, a clear picture starts to form.

"Yeah," Nile finally says. "Yeah, I love you."

Booker puts the last few things in the fridge.

"I got a pack of t-shirts," he says, taking the grocery bag into the bedroom.

Nile sits there with her half-eaten granola bar, processing what the hell just happened.

Did she just ruin their shared eternity?

Booker comes back in before she can spiral. His boots thud on the linoleum.

A man on a mission, Booker pulls her out of the chair into his arms and kisses her. Nile wraps her arms around his neck.

Nile feels a piece of her soul click into place that she didn't even realize she was missing.

When they finally part, moments or days or years later, Booker rests his forehead against hers.

"I love you, too. I'm in love with you."

The reassurance soothes a brand-new ache in Nile's chest. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Good. That's... that's good. Because I love you." Nile kisses him again. "So this is a thing we're doing?"

"I've been doing it far longer than you realize," Booker says in that pained, half-joking tone that means he's serious. "It's about time you joined me."

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

[honeypiehotchner]

Beautiful Stranger (Chris Evans x OFC) -- part ten

Hello again! I know it’s been awhile, apologies for that. I had some big writing pieces I had to focus on and get turned in before I did anything else. That being said, I’m submitting a ton of original works to contests in the next few weeks, so updates here could be a little teeny bit slow. But I am still writing! I have up to part twelve done already ;))

Anywho, enjoy xx.

Warnings: Just Chris being an absolute gentleman. Teeth-rotting fluff.

Chris and I have dinner together every night now. Or, we try to.

He’s filming again, which means sometimes our dinners have to be postponed, or one time he ordered in and had it there right when I got home, because he needed to leave a few minutes later for work. It’s become our routine.

Oh, and we exchanged numbers.

Which means the text messages like the one I’m smiling down at right now is a frequent occurrence.

Chris: Seb won’t stop trying to take my phone. If you get a creepy text, it’s him I swear

I chuckle, completely okay now with the fact that he can hear.

Noted. Tell Scarlett I say hiii

Scarlett and I are on better terms -- not that we were on bad terms to begin with, but I did think she was dating Chris. She doesn’t know the way I acted, unless Chris told her, but regardless, I see now that she’s super sweet.

Chris: Scarlett says hi back. She wants to meet you again

I smile.

We should invite her over one night. I could invite Camile over, too?

Chris has yet to meet Camile and that’s entirely my doing. She’s asked, and I’ve politely told her no. I want to be sure about him before I have him meeting my best friend. I’ve also just...enjoyed our quiet evenings together, getting to relax after the day. I don’t want anything about it to change, and for some reason, my brain thinks that if I let Camile meet him too soon, it will change.

Jack knows now, too, only because it slipped out of my mouth one night when he invited me to dinner with him and Camile. I told him I was actually having dinner with Chris, and Camile’s eyes widened because she had yet to tell him the news.

Jack didn’t scream, but he also wasn’t totally unfazed, either.

Chris: Scarlett said she’d love that (I would too for the record)

I roll my eyes. Somehow I can see his smile in my mind.

Let’s do it then. Would you be okay with Camile inviting Jack?

I anxiously await Chris’s reply.

Chris: Of course. As long as you’re okay with it

I let out a breath.

You’re the best

I hear a sweet laugh echo in my mind, and my chest swells.

Chris: Well Seb saw my messages and is now annoyed that he didn’t get an invite

Another eye roll. I’ve never met Sebastain, but from everything Chris has told me, I hear he can be a little dramatic.

Tell him I said stop pouting and he’ll be invited

A loud laugh. A pause.

Chris: Pouting has stopped and he said he will be there

My little moment is interrupted when a stack of papers is slammed onto my desk. My eyes follow the arm up to my boss, who doesn’t look pleased.

“I need these rooms booked,” he says firmly, then raises an eyebrow. “Unless your phone is more interesting than my conference.”

“No sir,” I shake my head, turning my phone over on my desk, unfortunately leaving Chris on read. I hate doing that to anyone, especially Chris. “I’ll have them booked by the end of the day.”

“Hm,” is all he says, taking his hand off the papers. He’ll never say thank you. He’s above simple manners, apparently. “Who are you texting?”

“Excuse me?” I let out a startled laugh. It isn’t new for him to be insanely nosy, but since it was my soulmate, I feel particularly defensive. “I’m sorry, but it’s not your business.”

“It is my business when my employee is on her phone instead of doing her work,” he snaps. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“It won’t,” I reply out of instinct, though I don’t mean it. I’ll just be more careful. Or I’ll have to tell Chris I can’t text at work anymore.

My boss stalks off to his office and makes eye contact with me as he shuts his door. I’ve successfully worsened his mood and it isn’t even lunchtime yet. Perfect.

+++

When I take my lunch hour at one -- I usually do noon, but Chris said he’s supposed to have lunch at one today, too -- I’m exhausted.

I’ve tried booking the rooms, but only half of the ones my boss wants are actually available. It’s been a lot of sweet talking and crunching numbers to make it work, and that’s only conference rooms. Let’s hope the hotel rooms he needs aren’t already taken, too.

I reach in my purse for my keys, deciding I need a drive today to get lunch. I get an hour and a half -- because I clocked in early -- so I can afford to drive instead of walking somewhere next door.

What I don’t expect, though, is to get to my car on the sidewalk by my work, and see a certain someone leaning up against it.

“Chris?” I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”

He’s got two cups of coffee in his hands, a hat on his head and sunglasses over his eyes. But that smile is still unmistakable. And the shoulders. The arms, too. Hands -- I digress.

I take one of the cups from him and try not to grin. “Nice disguise.”

“Thank you,” he replies, tipping his cup to me. “I try.”

“Well get in before someone recognizes you,” I gesture to my car that he’s leaning against. “Idiot,” I mutter under my breath.

Once we’re inside my car and the doors are locked, he says, “Did you just call me an idiot?” He takes his sunglasses off for dramatic effect.

“Because you’re not supposed to be out in the wild!”

“Out in the wild?” He laughs.

“I don’t know!” I say through my own laughter. “You know what I meant. Aren’t you afraid someone will recognize you?”

“I’m wearing a hat.”

I give him a look.

“I promise, I wouldn’t have done this if I thought I’d get mobbed. I wouldn’t put you in that kind of danger.”

I try not to frown, but I still do, and he still sees it.

“No, come on, I wanted to surprise you to make you smile, not make you sad.”

“I’m not sad.” I pull my seatbelt over my body and start the car. “I appreciate this, really.”

“I didn’t know if you would since you stopped texting me.”

I know he’s teasing, but I’m already not in the best mood, so I can’t help the word vomit that comes out of my mouth. “I’m so sorry, my boss got pissed that I was on my phone, so I’m gonna have to stop texting at work for now.”

Anyone else probably would’ve brushed it off because bosses are sometimes universally known to not be totally great, but this is Chris. This is Chris, who knows all the bullshit my boss puts me through, so it makes sense that his only emotion is concern.

“Are you okay? Did he say anything to you?”

“I’m okay,” I breathe, stopping at a red light. “And he just asked who I was texting, but I told him it wasn’t his business.”

“It’s not.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have been on my phone--”

“Don’t make excuses for his shitty behavior, Eva.”

“I’m not,” I fire back, turning left at the light. “Sorry, I’m just driving, I didn’t even ask-- What do you want for lunch?”

“Whatever you want,” he shrugs. “This is your lunch hour, I’m just tagging along.”

“Okay,” I let out another long breath. “I’m sorry, I feel like every time I see you I’m complaining about how stressed out I am.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though. How’s filming? How’s set?”

“It’s good,” he replies, shrugging. “I would tell you more, but we’re not really allowed. They’re very secretive about this stuff.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, trying to ignore the small bit of agitation in my chest. It’s not because of him. I know it’s because of my boss. “When are we gonna have dinner with everyone?”

“We have this weekend off, if that works for Camile and Jack.”

I nod. “It should.” I pause, looking around at where I am. I realize that my body has gone on autopilot and driven me to The Nines. “How good is that disguise?”

“What? It’s pretty good, I stood out by your car for ten minutes.”

“Well, we’re gonna go to my favorite diner,” I hit my signal to park. “It’s really small, though, so you might not need it.”

“Okay…” Chris looks nervous.

“I promise,” I assure him as I swing into the parking space. “I wouldn’t bring you in here if I thought you’d get mobbed. Kevin might recognize you, but he’s the most relaxed person I’ve ever met.”

Still, Chris puts on his sunglasses. “I trust you.”

I smile, cutting off the engine. While I’m doing that, though, Chris is jumping out of my car and coming around to the driver’s side to open my door for me. And then when we reach the door to The Nines, he’s opening that one for me, too.

“I see chivalry is alive and well today,” I comment. “Coffee,” I hold up my cup, “and opening doors for me? I feel lucky.”

Chris shakes his head with a smile, clearly bashful and a little nervous. It’s this moment that I realize this is the first time we’ve been in public with one another. Granted, it’s The Nines, which is almost always deserted -- except at two in the morning when the college kids congregate before finals -- but still. 

I lead Chris to Camile and I’s favorite booth, sliding in across from him as he takes off his sunglasses, but leaves the hat -- for good reason. Kevin is walking over a second later, already making some comment about what he told me last time about it being offensive when I walk in here with outside coffee, but he stops when he sees Chris.

“Wait,” Kevin’s voice lowers, and I see Chris shift in his seat. “Steve Rogers?” He whispers.

“I prefer Chris,” my soulmate tries to joke, chuckling a little.

“Dope,” Kevin says. “Can you sign a napkin for me?”

“Sure.”

“Dope,” Kevin repeats, then acts like he forgets what just happened. “Anywho, what are we eating? Since I see you’ve brought outside coffee in here yet again.”

“You’ll live, Kev,” I roll my eyes. “And the usual.”

“What’s the usual?” Chris asks.

“You’ll see,” Kevin replies, then walks away.

Chris gives me a bewildered look and I grimace.

“Sorry. That’s Kevin for ya.”

“No, it’s okay, just not the interaction I normally have.”

“Yeah,” I still grimace. “Oh, and please sign something for him. He won’t bring it up again, but he’ll ask me about it every damn time I see him after this.”

“Got it,” Chris pulls one of the napkins out of the holder and produces a Sharpie from his jacket pocket.

I raise an eyebrow.

“What?” He defends. “It’s always here.”

“Whatever you say.”

“The slander,” he shakes his head, expertly signing the napkin despite how flimsy it is. I try not to look too amazed at how he does it and how flawless his signature looks.

Kevin returns with a cup of water, sitting it down in front of me. “I just wanted an excuse to come back over.”

Chris taps Kevin’s arm to get his attention. “Here you go.”

Kevin glances at the napkin and sees what it is, and clutches the flimsy paper to his chest. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Chris laughs. “It’s no problem.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you two kids alone. I’ll be back with food.”

“You better,” I joke, resting my head in my hand.

True to his word, Kevin returns with a tray holding a platter of steak fries and a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy.

“Bon appetit,” Kev sings, bowing as he backs away from the table.

Chris stares at me with raised eyebrows. “What is this?”

I give him a weird look in return as I dip one of the fries into the mashed potatoes and gravy. “It’s lunch.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m deadly serious,” I reply smoothly, picking up my glass of water to take a sip. “This is my comfort food, come on, try it.”

But I didn’t need to beg him because he’s already doing it, definitely to entertain me, but that’s fine with me. I watch his face as he eats, waiting for it, and eventually it hits.

The amazement. The agitation that it actually tastes good.

I giggle, muffling the sound with another fry. “It’s good.”

“It’s so good,” he nods, laughing with me as he dips another fry. “Not the most healthy, but.”

“Eh, comfort food isn’t supposed to be healthy,” I tease, swirling my fry in the gravy. “My mom and I used to get this and hot chocolate when we were out shopping.” I pause, wondering why the hell I’m telling him this at lunch. 

Talk about your dead parents, Eva. That’s a great lunchtime conversation.

“Yeah?” Chris says, waiting for me to go on.

So I do. “She used retail therapy a lot to get her mind off fighting with my dad.”

“Did you guys come here?”

“No,” I shake my head. “We went to a place called the Broadway Diner, but it’s closed now. I just remembered this and started having it here one day. Kev gave me the same look you did until he tried it.”

Chris chuckles, leaning on his elbow as he eats another. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it would work. I thought it’d be too much potato.”

“It does seem like it,” I agree. “But it’s strangely not.”

Chris points at me with a fry, swallowing his last bite before asking, “What do you want to have this weekend?”

“Are you cooking again?”

“If you want me to.”

I make a face. “I wouldn’t be opposed…”

He grins. “Then I’ll cook. Anything you want?”

“Surprise me,” I tease. “That went pretty well last time.”

“Alright, I’ll figure something out,” he promises. “You should come see Dodger soon. He misses you.”

“Does he now?”

Chris pulls his infamous puppy dog eyes -- Dodger’s are better, but don’t tell him that -- and nods seriously. “He does.”

“Hm, then I guess I’ll just have to come over tonight,” I shrug. “What time will you be done?”

“Soon, hopefully,” Chris breathes. “I’ll text you.” But he pauses. “Or maybe I won’t.”

“After five,” I chuckle. “But yeah, no more today, sorry. I probably shouldn’t anger the beast anymore.”

Chris frowns. “Okay.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, hoping that’ll make his frown fade, but it doesn’t. It grows deeper. “Hey, it is.”

“I don’t like that you think it is,” he murmurs. “He shouldn’t be as demanding as he is.”

“He’s my boss.”

“He shouldn’t ask you to work late or to call his wife and cancel their dinner plans,” Chris counters.

And I frown. Because that’s only half of what my boss asks of me. I’ve only told Chris half. And judging by how he’s reacted, I don’t know if I’ll tell him the other half.

“It’s fine,” I say again, and when Chris gives me a look, I give him one back.

“Okay, fine,” he waves his hand in surrender. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.”

“But if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.”

“What are you gonna do?” I laugh, a little nervously. “Beat him up?”

Chris thinks it over. “Let’s go with that.”

“Chris!”

“I’m kidding!” His hand reaches over and touches mine gently. Gentle enough that I stop moving completely and watch him. “But please tell me.”

“Okay,” I promise, and I mean it. “I will.”

He turns my hand over and squeezes softly, his thumb rubbing circles, and he doesn’t let go.

But it’s okay. I didn’t want him to let go, anyway.

[khaoticallykat]

◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Paring: College AU!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You and Ransom never seen eye to eye, during one class in high school you let him know how you really feel and from there it was pranks and bullying all on you. Until you finally went to college, forgetting all about Ransom until you happen to encounter him again, this time at his grandfather's, the famous novelist, Harlan Thrombey. With a research paper that needs to be done to make the grade, are you gonna put up with Ransom's shit?

Warnings: language, bullying.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: omgggg this is my first time actually formatting a story for Tumblr and I just hope y'all like it. There's gonna be smut but that's wayyy later and maybe in a mini chapter. Thanks for reading 💖

Chapter 1. The Writing Writer

~Flashback~

You drummed your finger along the desk, pissed off and annoyed as you watch Ransom Drysdale, yes, him. The richest kid in school and the biggest piece of shit you've ever laid your eyes on. He was actually an alright guy, for the most part, but you you see beyond his pretty blonde hair, blue eyes and fake smile. He was made to look like an angel, one of those sculptures you see in Italy. He was flirting with your friend as all three of you sat at a table in science class, he has a girlfriend but almost every girl he flirted with, including you, but you harshly turned that off. 

"Aw come on Lexi, you're so smart, just help me out?" He blinked his ocean blue eyes at her, she giggled and smiled, about to slide her paper over to him until you grabbed her hand.

"Lexi, don't you think Ransom should have been paying attention to the lesson rather than making goo goo eyes at you?" You asked, gritting your teeth.

"Aw Y/n, I can help him out, it's no big deal." She smiled, you loved her, you really did but even she was falling into the spell of Ransom.

"Yeah Y/n. She doesn't mind, but yet," he looked over at you, it sparked more a hatred in you, "yet you, seem to really mind me? What is it? You like me don't you? Want me all to yourself?" 

You sighed, giving him a deadpan expression, "I rather eat razors and then shit them out, you're shitty and annoying and a fake." His smile dropped, Lexi covered her mouth, either in shock or to stifle a laugh. "You act like you're such a king here, having everyone bend to your whim but who are you really? You're a trust fund playboy and I really hope you don't breed, we already have enough shitheads like you in the world."

Everyone in the room was looking at you, clearly you weren't aware of your tone, even the teacher looked shocked.

But Ransom, deep down he should have hated you, but instead, he laughed. He laughed so loud and hard that his was was beet red and tears came down. 

"Wow," he chuckled, catching his breath, "fuck you." 

From then senior year was filled with Ransom knocking books out of your hand, spilling various liquids on you, thankfully it was tea, water or coffee, he even went as far as cling wrapping your car before homecoming started. You paid him no mind though, you were really good at that, ignoring him and going on about your day, your mom always said that children act out when they want attention and that was one thing you would never give him.  He noticed just how much you really didn't care for him, it made him angry, he spent almost every day finding something to inconvenience you and you just brushed him off like dust. 

He cornered you in a back room in the photo lab one day after school, you were cleaning up and helping out when the Jock pushed you in a closet, closing the door behind him. 

"Oh great. My favorite person." You rolled your eyes, "get out of my way, I have stuff to do."

"You're not going anywhere," He growled, he smelled of sweat and dirt, he must have came from training. "You and I need to talk."

You sighed, shifting in the tight space that Ransom took up, "well I'm listening, but hurry up you stink." 

"You're really good at ignoring me, just wondering how and why?"

"You mean how haven't I giving in to your antics? Because you're a child, you act like one and I don't pay attention to boys that act like children," You heard him punch the wall next to you, "just let it go Hugh, sometimes you can't get all the girls to suck you off." 

You smirked and ducked under his arm, opening the closet door to see Ransom's two friends, Sam and James sitting on the desk across from the closet. They made eye contact with and quickly looked away, it was clear that they were uncomfortable with the situation. You packed your bag and left, leaving Ransom in the closet to deal with the fact that you just called him by his first name. 

"You alright in there man? What'd she do, spit on ya?" James called from the desk.

Sam got up and dragged him out, "come on, don't let some chick ruin the rest of your senior year, after this, we got college girls to look at."

"You're right," Ransom laughed, "I can't fucking wait." 

~Present~

After high school, you never saw Ransom, he was basically out of sight, out of mind. College was rolling around and you picked your major of psychology, you were lucky that the town had a college and it was easy to get into. You spent your first few months taking the classes required and studying, your teacher reminded you that the final paper was due months from now, to write a report on a literary author of the time. They assigned everyone an author, when your name came up, you got the author, Harlan Thrombey. The last name rung a bell in your head, but you couldn't tell why. Leaving class you notice many people were in the college colors. Right, football season. You saw some sororities gathered in the parking lot cheering, you didn't want to be part of any of them. You were almost to your car when you remembered why the last name Thrombey sounded so familiar. 

Ransom Drysdale was on the back of a pickup cheering and laughing with other guys in their football jerseys, he soon forgot about you after high school. But through his dark, gold rim glasses, he saw you, the same as ever, he was really shocked to see that you even stayed in town, you were really smart, not that he would admit it. Stepping off the back of the pick up, he made his way towards you, you were walking at a fast pace, trying to get to your car before he could catch up and torment you. Ransom saw you get in your little grey Volkswagen and slam the door, locking it behind you. The engine stalled a few times before it finally came to life. Ransom was just getting to your car when you quickly pulled out, almost hitting him. You paid no attention to the speed until you reached the first green light off campus. Taking a deep breath, you looked in your rear view and chuckled, it was childish, but you were glad to get away.

Thankfully it was Friday and you wouldn't see him until Monday, throwing your bag on the floor, you sat at your desk fuming. If all places, why does Ransom Drysdale have to be in the same college as you? You opened your laptop and began looking up Harlan Thrombey, he thankfully had an email, writing out who you were, the nature of your email and a few other things, you clicked the 'send' button and waited. 

Later that evening while you were reading, your phone pinged, showing you that there was an email from Harlan. He wrote back that he would be glad to have you over to study his work for your research paper and asked if you could come over Saturday. Doing a small dance of happiness in your room, you replied that you'll be there at noon. 

The next morning you wore something that would look rather business casual, most of your clothing was on the darker side so it was easier to match items and stopped in town at the local donut shop before heading to Harlan's. Pulling up you saw a white BMW, the kind that was vintage, it probably ran better than your car double checking your bag once more for your notebook, tablet and charger, you locked your car and walked up to the brick manor. The place was absolutely gorgeous as you took a moment to wonder what the inside would look like. Suddenly two blurs came running up to you barking and sniffing, one was a black lab and the other a German shepherd. They both sat down and looked at the box of donuts you were carrying. 

"Sorry, I didn't get anything for you," you frowned, slowly backing towards the steps, "maybe next time." 

You rung the doorbell and waited, the dogs followed you and waited by you patiently with their tails wagging. A young woman opened the door, she looked about your age with dark brown hair and bright eyes, "you must be y/n," she smiled, the dogs rushing in almost knocking her over, "Harlan told me you were coming, I'm his nurse, Marta." She lead you into the house which wasn't bare in any area, there were decorations on covering the walls, either with paintings, books, it some strange artifacts. You followed her to the library where you saw Harlan, all grey hair but eyes were full of life. 

"Ah, you must be Y/n," he said, turning his attention away from a man that sat in a chair, facing away from you, "I was just talking to my grandson about you, how he should be doing his homework but instead, he's talking of football and girls." 

"It's nice to meet you mr. Thrombey," you smiled, walking over to him, "I brought donuts." 

The man in the chair stood up, "I know that voice," he turned around, same damn smirk on his face like it was permanent, "ah, of course it's you, my favorite person."

God damned Ransom Drysdale.

You looked like a deer in head lights, "what the hell are you doing here?" You asked, taking a step back.

"Visiting my grandpa?" He said, "bring those donuts over here, I'm starving." 

You thought it was a sick joke, but you can see it, the tiny resemblance between Ransom and Harlan. But here you are, trapped in a house with you high school bully. He made his way over to you and opened the box, he was still the same, no respect for personal space. 

"I saw you yesterday, but you left," he took one of the chocolate covered ones, "me and you got a lot of catching up to do." 

[brain-rott]

A Crushed Crush pt.3

Pairing: Midoriya x Reader/Bakugo x Reader

Description: It seems that things have finally come to a head as you are finally confronted by Midoriya who has come to ask you about what it was that tore you both apart. 

Tag list: @jirouisbestgirl @honestlyimace @chounakami @Galacticrosee @http-bakugo @crybbysol @dragon-lark @odddaze @httpgiiio @karlitabi-rrito @chiefinvestigatorheidi @deneuves​

Word count: 3654 

Rating: PG

Part 1 Part 2

You woke with a yawn and grumble as you rolled over to see that it was still early in the morning. You were sure that not even the birds outside were awake yet. You realized that it was your phone that woke you up, the screen glowing brightly at you from its place on the bed next to you. Pulling it closer to you, you see that you have ten new messages from Bakugo from all hours of the night. Confused you sit up blinking sleep from your eyes as you unlock your phone. 

Bakugo 1:58 

You asleep? 

Bakugo 2:05

I take your lack of response as a yes. 

This is the worst time and way to say this I know I have already gotten chewed out by Kirishima about it

But I won’t be able to sleep until I get this off my mind 

Bakugo 2:11

Earlier when I told you I cared about you I meant it 

Not like as friends though 

I want to be more than just friends

I know that your still getting over that shitty nerd but I just want you to know that there's someone out there other than him who can see just how amazing you are and don't take it for granted. 

Okay I think I got my point across well enough I’m sure you’re gonna wanna talk in the morning anyways so you can assault me with questions then

Call me when you wake up 

You thought you were delirious for a time as you read the texts over and again just to ensure you weren’t misunderstanding anything. You had to catch yourself as you went to call Bakugo but seeing as the sun wasn’t even up yet you’re sure he may not be too pleased to hear from you. Instead you made a compromise with yourself sending him a large text of just heart and crying face emojis. 

Dropping back down into bed. You smiled into your pillow as you let yourself daydream back into a lull before sleep fully retook you. Though rather than dreams of cute dates with the angry blonde you were confronted with some rather troubling images. 

You found your dream self in a dark room sat at the same kind of tables they had in the cafeteria. On one side of the table was Midoriya and all of them. A fond memory of the time when Todoroki had accidentally mispronounced the name of an English soda had you all laughing and near choking on your food. You chuckled to yourself turning away for a moment. When you look back they’re gone initially startling you until you felt a hand on your knee under the table. 

Turning to look over your other shoulder you found yourself sat next to Bakugo he had bumped you to get your attention before pointing to Kaminari who was across the Cafeteria flirting with some girls from general studies. You couldn’t help the laugh that left you as the shortest of the three girls rose from her seat dumping her smoothie on Kaminari’s head before they all sauntered off leaving the blonde deflated and defeated. Kirishima had offered to go over and save him though it seemed it was unnecessary as a familiar purple haired weirdo from General studies came to his aid laughing as the two walked out of the cafeteria. 

Your eyes locked onto Bakugo’s red ones and you felt your self shudder in a slight terror as he just seemed to blur and suddenly you were alone once again in the dark cafeteria. A sudden wave of coldness overtook you making you shudder. Now sat across from you were the silhouettes of Midoriya and Bakugo they seemed to be facing you though the longer you stare the harder it became to tell. The longer you sat there the colder it seemed to get as well, your breath appearing like mist in the chilled air. When you reached out towards them you seemed to lose your balance toppling backwards out of your chair, the sensation of falling seemed to over take you and your heart raced as you heard a pounding in your ears. 

You jerked awake your leg kicking out hard against your bed smashing your toes against your wooden bed frame. Hissing in pain, you grabbed your foot cradling it towards you as you rubbed attempting to soothe the discomfort. You blinked again when you heard someone knock against your door. Looking up you noticed that the sun was fully out and light trickled into your room from between your curtains. Standing slowly you yanked open your curtains before shuffling over to the door. 

Too busy trying to recall the details of your dream. You walked to your door where the person once again knocked. You clearly hadn’t learned your lesson since the last time someone came knocking at an odd hour of the day as you simply threw the door open. You stood there a moment, blinking in surprise as you simply stared at the person who stood before you.  

Midoriya truly didn’t know what he was doing. He had made you bawl your eyes out how many times now? Now he thought he was going to somehow patch everything over by returning your belongings to you? He couldn’t help the tremors of anxiety and fear that trickled through him as he made the walk from his room to yours. 

Your books were clutched to his chest much like how they had been moments before you turned and ran from him, tears streaming down your cheeks. That moment had been burned into his mind. He couldn’t sleep at all that night as his thoughts of you never quieted enough to allow him to rest. 

Midoriya couldn’t help the huff that escaped him making him freeze in embarrassment as he remembered he was in public. He had racked his brain all night but couldn’t think of a single thing he may have done to hurt you. At one point he had even called Iida asking if he may have any insight into this situation though the Class rep was unfortunately unhelpful. 

You hadn’t even be able to look at him and it destroyed him. 

‘Maybe Todoroki was right. Maybe I am the problem.’ Midoriya thought feeling his heart pang painfully at the thought that maybe you just didn’t like him. Stepping into the elevator he pressed the button to take him to your floor. 

‘It could be that simple’ he continued ‘You might just not be able to stand being around him anymore.’ The thought made a lump form in his throat. In the privacy of the elevator he let himself take a shaky breath before shaking himself. He really did not want to show up to your door already crying when he is trying to prevent crying at all costs. 

Things just seemed to be falling down around him and he hadn’t a cue as to how to stop it. It started with Uraraka turning him down after he confessed his feelings for her and now it is culminating with him losing you forever. It seemed the two events happened within the same time frame of each other. That following day you up and vanished from his life without so much as a warning as to why. 

Just having to recall those days of sitting at the table staring at your empty seat made him so uncomfortable. He almost felt like he was missing a part of himself without you at his side. That first week had been hell for him and after your first run in he didn’t even begin to know how horrible it must have been for you. 

The elevator doors slid open and Midoriya shook himself needing his full attention for what was to come. He was going to talk to you, he was going to make things right again. Even if you didn’t want to see or talk to him anymore. He at least wanted to hear it from your own mouth before he gave up. 

The last thing he wanted to do was make you cry again. So in preparation he had been rehearsing what to say since that morning when you ran from him. He was determined to make things right between the two of you. Even if it was gonna break his heart. Anything to make you happy again. 

Your dorm room door now stood before him it being the only thing between him and what could possibly the hardest news of his short life. As he knocked on your door, he felt his body go stiff in sudden apprehension. While his plan in theory worked out great. In reality all of his practice went out the door as he stood there practically shaking. His shirt felt too tight and his hoodie was too hot. His heart was racing as he heard the door unlock and slowly open. You stood before him in fluffy bed pants and an oversized t-shirt clearly having just gotten out of bed despite it being half past noon. 

“H-Hey [y/n]. I-I wanted to bring back your books.” Midoriya stuttered noting how you immediately tensed in his presence. 

You nodded slowly, reaching out to take your items from his arms. He didn’t resist as you took your things beginning to back away into the safety of your dorm. Suddenly remembering the real reason to why he was there, Midoriya stepped forward into the doorway blocking you from shutting it. 

“I’m sorry [y/n] but can we please talk...” Midoriya said all shakiness gone from his voice instead it was replaced with a deep sadness you had never heard come from him. In all your time of knowing him you had never once heard him this depressed. He studied your eyes as you stared back into his green ones almost unsure as to what to say. 

Your grip on the door handle tightened as you felt a wave of indecisiveness descend upon you. Were you even entirely ready for this conversation? It felt like it had been ages since that morning when you walked in on him and Uraraka. Yet it still hurt like it had been mere moments ago. You knew you would never be able to go on if you didn’t do something about it. You studied Midoriya’s face looking for some kind of sign as to what he was feeling. Something you could use to steady your own shaking emotions. Your gaze lingered on each of his freckles before you finally relented. 

“Come in.” You mumbled your voice coming out as a meek whisper as you stepped aside and allowed him in. 

He nodded with a small ‘thank you’ as he stepped inside, slowly looking around before taking a seat at your desk. Shutting the door behind you, you made sure to leave it unlocked in case your worst fear came true and you needed a friend to bail you out at the last minute. Your heart already felt as if it were about to burst from your chest and escape. Even as you sat down on your bed, tucking your legs under you as you did so, the unease wouldn’t leave you. In an attempt to gather some form of comfort you pulled your blankets towards you laying them over your lap. 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you as you both looked around your room. This was not the first time Midoriya had been here with you, though it was the first time in quite some time. His gaze went from your desk which held a variety of figurines and office supplies to your bed which was covered in a tapestry of colors from your many, many blankets. 

Finally Midoriya took the initiative taking a deep breath steadying himself before turning to face you fully eyes looking deep into yours as he began. 

“[y/n]... What did I do?” Midoriya asked softly, knowing he was starting out strong. 

“You didn’t do anything. I just needed some space.” You responded knowing this was not the whole truth. You were still warming up to this whole idea of talking things out. Midoriya clearly knew this as well as he fixed you with a concerned look making you flinch from his gaze. He scooted closer to you. 

“Would you mind telling me why you needed space then?” His voice was soft and comforting. Even though you weren’t looking at him you knew he was staring at you with that worried look of his. You couldn’t help but cringe. While he looked to you with concern all you could see was his lips pressed to Uraraka’s cheek. Shaking yourself you forced yourself to fixate on the spot where the walls met the floor hoping it would keep your emotions at bay. Midoriya again moved closer to you. 

“I was just going through some stuff emotionally and what not...” You said honestly. You didn’t want to go into detail the embarrassment would haunt you much longer than the heartbreak could ever you were sure of this.  

Midoriya could see how you tense your shoulders, refused to look at him. It seemed that every time he got even remotely close to finding out what was wrong, you would shut him out raising every defense you had. 

He was there in the same room as you yet he felt a million miles away. He could feel his emotions starting to get the best of him as the last few days events came to him. He could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

“[y/n] Please…” He whispered out his hands hovering in the space between you. He didn’t want to touch you if you didn’t want him to but he so desperately wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close to him. 

It killed him knowing he was the reason you were no longer your former happy self. Though what really hurt him was the fact that he didn’t have a damn clue as to what had caused this. He didn’t even try to hold back his tears as you turned to look at him in surprise as he openly cried to you. 

“Whatever the reason may be. I promise to try to understand. I miss you so, so much. I know I never said it but you mean so much to me.” Midoriya confessed moving so he was now fully in front of you. His hands held out before him and offered to you trembled ever so slightly.  

“I love you...” Midoriya finally said voice cracking as he choked back a sob his hair falling forward to cover his eyes. 

You felt your world tilt at his words. You didn’t know what to say at first. So you took his hands into your own squeezing them reassuringly in your grip as you thought to yourself. You had never been good at handling your emotions so having to suddenly be the level headed person was a turn you hadn’t been expecting.

“I-I…” You had to pause to take a breath before continuing. The way he was watching with his eyes so heavy with emotion it made your chest ache. “Midoriya, I was so madly in love with you when we first met.” At your words Midoriya’s eyes widened in surprise then settled as suddenly things seemed to make so much sense to him.

“ I had never loved anyone before you, not truly at least. I was so happy to finally have someone to love that I let it wrap me up in my own little world.” You admitted with a small laugh as you thought back to all the times you did something goofy in an attempt to make him smile or gain his attention. 

“ I was so caught up in it all that I was absolutely blind sided when I saw you with Uraraka. It destroyed me. Since you were my first crush I had never been through a heartbreak before. Finding out in such a way that you didn’t like me back. It was a new kind of pain that I just wasn’t prepared for…” You admitted feeling as though all the weight that had once been on your shoulders had suddenly been lifted. You blinked slightly surprised as you felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed you had started crying. 

Midoriya didn’t say anything as he brushed the tears from your eyes watching you with his own watery gaze. 

“I’m sorry but I just couldn’t bring myself to face you. It just hurt too much. It still hurts.” You explained as Midoriya’s hands returned to your lap where he interlaced his fingers with yours giving you a comforting squeeze. 

“I know it was selfish of me to avoid you all. I just wanted the hurting to stop. So I did what I thought was best for me at the time.” You continued feeling yourself getting a bit breathless. 

“You may think I’m terrible for doing that but-but…” You couldn’t bring yourself to keep talking as you felt the urge to cry become too strong. If you kept going you would end up a bawling mess. The tightness in your throat and the pressure on your chest tell tale signs of what was to come. You honestly really hated crying, though lately it felt like it had been your only relief.

You didn’t notice that Midoriya had risen from his seat until he had joined you on the bed. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest as he hugged you tightly against him. 

“I’m so sorry [y/n]. I’m so sorry I was too dense to notice your feelings. I may not have been able to say it then but I do truly care about you. So, so much. Every time I made you cry I thought I was going to lose you forever and it broke me.” Midoriya paused taking a hard breath as he pressed his cheek against the top of your head as he hugged you even closer to him for a moment. He never wanted to let you go. 

“I can’t see my life without you in it anymore.” Midoriya confessed speaking into the top of your head “I would do anything to try and make it up to you. All the pain I caused you all the suffering...”

You sniffled wiping at your eyes as you just revealed in his embrace for a moment longer. 

“What about Uraraka?” You finally asked dreading the answer. You were so afraid he was about to undo everything he had just said to you. 

“I may have convinced myself I liked her at one time but… Now I know it wasn’t real. Your who I love [y/n]. I know it took me too long to realize it but when I say it I am being honest.” Midoriya explained hoping he got his point across. At the time he had spoken to Uraraka he had convinced himself that he cared about her. Though the pain of you leaving vastly outweighed whatever he had felt from her. 

The two of your sat there a moment. Simply enjoying being in one another's arms as you seemed to ponder what each of you had said. Your head was practically swimming. Hearing all the things you have been wanting to hear all this time, having his arms around you, having him hold you so tightly against him. It was almost too good to be true. 

Though despite having everything you had wanted for since the start of your highschool career. Something deep in your chest suddenly ached. Your eyes snap open as you remember your conversation from early this morning. You had still been half asleep when you read them so Bakugo’s words had faded to the back of your mind at the sudden appearance of Midoriya. 

You felt a cold sweat creep up your limbs as you realized you would have to choose. The two hated each other there would be no way to exist in both Midorya’s world and Bakugo’s. So lost in your own thoughts and mild panic you almost jumped out of Midoriya’s arms when he moved. 

“[y/n] I know I should’ve asked you this long ago but, will you go out with me?” He said suddenly making your heart stutter. You hesitated to answer him. Did you want to go out with Midoriya? How were you supposed to choose between the two in all honesty?  

“I-I’m gonna have to think on that Midoriya. I don’t think I’m emotionally ready yet.” You finally answered smiling at him sweetly as you slowly sat up out of his arms. 

He nodded happily smiling brightly as he squeezed your hands reassuringly. 

“It’s okay take all the time you need [y/n]! I promise I will be waiting for you when your ready.” He said assuredly thought when he opened his mouth to speak again a loud buzzing startled the both of you. You watched in surprise as he pulled his phone out of his pocket it buzzed loudly in his hand. His face immediately flushed upon seeing who the caller was. 

“I-I’m sorry my mother is calling.” He admitted rubbing at the back of his neck in mild embarrassment. 

“Oh it’s alright you go ahead. I can catch up with you later.” He gave you a thankful look before giving you a final hug and rushing out the door hurriedly answering his phone before closing the door behind him. 

Once you were sure he was gone you flopped face down into your bed burying your face into your pillow before you let out a scream you didn’t know you were holding in. 

You didn’t even want to think of what you were going to do now… 

A/N: Howdy! Thanks for all the feed back on the last part but now is the real time to cast your votes for who yall want especially now that Midoriya has been able to have his time in the lime light. 

This takes about two seconds so if you could follow this link to cast your vote 

VOTE HERE <3 

A/N**: Also sorry for any errors as of right now its 1 am and I cant bring myself to edit this after having already re written it like three times lmao 

[ohnomybreadsticks]

Okay so the wonderful @jaskiersvalley got so excited about my little Eskel/Lambert/Cahir merm AU that they have me writing more!! Thanks for always being an inspiration, this one’s for you <3 

This part is set before Part 1!

Rating: T, ~1.5K, Eskel/Lambert

Lambert had always liked the ocean. There was something exciting about it, the endless expanse of blue waves and the smell of salt. Never silent, constantly moving. He figured Geralt would like the ocean too, but he was off somewhere in the middle of the country, driving that stupid truck of his. Occasionally he imagined sending Geralt a postcard that just said ‘maybe you should go look at some waves and calm down bitch’, but he didn’t underestimate the man’s ability to hunt him down and beat him about the head for that. Lambert, unlike Geralt, didn’t like sleeping in a truck, he liked to have at least a shitty bed when he laid down for the night. Instead of drifting along the roads, he drifted from town to town.

This town was nice in that it was quiet and it took about five minutes to get to the ocean from his job. Which was really all Lambert needed. He wouldn’t be here for too long, so he was going to enjoy the coast while he could. No matter how nice a place was, he couldn’t stay put for too long. That just wasn’t his lot in life, to settle down and carve out a home for himself. Nah, guys like him and Geralt, they didn’t do that. Instead, Lambert rented a little apartment close to the docks and enjoyed his days out in the sun and the wind, breathing in the smell of the ocean. 

Sometimes, Lambert got a day off and could actually afford to take it. They were rare, but he always treasured them when he had the chance. He always spent them on the beach, but not the shitty touristy parts. No, he’d trek out from the docks and down to the secluded parts that were still close enough that you could hear the sound of metal clanging and people yelling. Tourists didn’t like these parts of the beach, but Lambert didn’t give a shit. The sand was still sand, the water just as wet. And there was the added benefit of not having to listen to screaming kids and yelling parents. 

Lambert would lay on the beach and nap, or just stare up at the sky, or he’d swim out and paddle around in the shallows. He wasn’t stupid enough to swim out too far when he was alone like this - he was a good swimmer but he knew the ocean was treacherous. He stayed just close enough to the shore that the currents couldn’t pull him out and under, but far enough that he could float comfortably and not just end up back on the beach. 

When it came to floating, sometimes Lambert liked to switch things up and do a dead man’s float. It was dumb, sure, but when he was face down in the water and holding his breath against the cold chill he felt more alive than ever. Rolling over to face the sky, coming up gasping for air, it reminded him that he was winning. A little stupid, sure, but there was no one here to tell him that. No hands coming out of nowhere to cuff him on the back of the neck or flick at his ears, no over-exaggerated sighs at his ‘antics’.

At least, that’s what he thought. Lambert was minding his own business, floating face down, when out of nowhere there were strong arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him in what appeared to be a random direction. Naturally, Lambert took umbrage with this, flailing and instinctively yelling out in anger, which only filled his mouth with seawater. Faster than should have been possible he found himself flung onto the sand, landing with a wet thud. He was cursing up a storm in between coughing up water, frantically wiping at his eyes so he could get them open to see who had attacked him. If this was Geralt’s way of surprising him he was going to kick his ass --

“Oh fuck. You’re beautiful.” were the first words out of Lambert’s mouth as he looked up at the man above him. Brilliant amber eyes set deep beneath brows that were creased with worry, old scars stretching across the whole right side of his face, loose strands of wet black hair hanging down across his forehead, chapped lips that looked nonetheless extremely inviting...for Lambert, it was love at first sight. Maybe he was a little waterlogged, but he was sticking to his guns on this one. This was no hallucination brought on by lack of oxygen, no way.

The compliment seemed to have a negative effect on the man, as his frown deepened and he leaned in closer, one calloused hand patting at Lambert’s check and settling on his throat to check his pulse. He still hadn’t spoken, so Lambert decided he needed to try again.

“Why’d you grab me? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate the interest, but that scared the shit out of me.” He said, trying a half smile that quirked his mouth up just on one side, “I’m not mad, promise.” Maybe that was why tall, dark, and handsome hadn’t spoken yet, he was worried about Lambert yelling at him or something. He had been doing a lot of cursing on the way over to the beach, but now he wasn’t sure he could physically be mad at someone who was so pretty and so clearly worried about him for some reason.

“Thought you were drowning.” The man finally said, clearing his throat and speaking in a voice that was all rough grumble with no venom behind it. “Sorry, shouldn’t have gotten involved.” He added, already pulling away and making as if to turn back into the ocean. Lambert sat up as quickly as he could, grabbing at the man’s shoulder to hold him back, and suddenly saw the rest of him. The angle of their first meeting meant Lambert had gotten a great view of his face and muscular chest, but had somehow missed the bottom half. And the bottom half was, well, it was a treat on the eyes.

No, it wasn’t that he was naked (wait, was he?) or wearing a particularly hot set of swim trunks. From the hips down, this man had a fish tail instead of legs. And not just any fish tail, but a tail covered in gorgeous silver scales, strong and sleek and dotted with scars just like his face. Also incredibly gorgeous, in Lambert’s humble opinion.

“Oh shit, you’re a, uh, mermaid. Merman. Mer...person?” Lambert tried a few different words in an attempt to not immediately offend, his brain not exactly firing on all cylinders right now thanks to how busy it was being enamored. “Merman.” The man corrected with a sigh that sounded very long suffering, “And please don’t freak out. I’m leaving now, you can just pretend this never happened, or you got sunstroke and imagined it.”

Lambert tightened his grip, shaking his head firmly. “No fucking way am I forgetting this. And I definitely want to see you again. You can’t just save me and then swim away like nothing happened.” Ignoring the fact that he hadn’t been drowning, because he was just going to thank whatever lucky stars had led them to meeting.

“What?” The merman asked, sounding like now he thought Lambert had sunstroke.

“I want to see you again. Or talk now. Or both, really.” Lambert insisted again, holding out his free hand, “I’m Lambert, by the way. So we can be properly introduced.”

Hesitantly, the merman took Lambert’s hand in his own, the grip firm but brief before he pulled away again. “Eskel.” He said with a little nod.

“Great! Eskel, it’s fantastic to meet you” Lambert said with a smile, squeezing his shoulder, “So what do you say? Is it a date?”

The shocked expression on Eskel’s face made him look even more cute, in Lambert’s opinion. “A what?! You want to go on a date with a mythical creature you just met? Are you mad?” He spluttered, gesturing at himself as if Lambert couldn’t see just what he was getting into. Like Lambert wasn’t going to be interested in the obviously kind-hearted gorgeous man sitting in front of him, tail or no tail.

Laughing, Lambert retorted “No, I want to go on a date with Eskel. The person who tried to save a random stranger when he thought I was drowning. Who’s also very attractive, which is a big big bonus.” Eskel’s mouth closed with a snap and...was that a tiny hint of a flush across his cheeks? Hard to tell, because he turned his head away so that Lambert couldn’t investigate further. 

“Sure. I guess.” Eskel mumbled, and Lambert let out a triumphant whoop, raising both hands in the air in victory. This, of course, freed Eskel to retreat into the ocean, a blur of silver and black and a flurry of saltwater splashing back onto Lambert. 

“This beach, tomorrow! Noon for lunch!” Lambert called after him with a grin, absolutely sure he had been heard. Why else would Eskel have flashed his tail up over the waves one last time before disappearing? 

It was a date.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Side Effects ch.1 (baon)

Summary: In the aftermath of from the events in 'Internal Disputes' and 'Bedside Stories', the fallout has an effect on everyone and they all have their own issues to deal with.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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Waking up alone was not unusual in the scheme of things. That was most days and even on weekends the bed next to Stretch would usually be empty by the time he was ready to roll out for the day. Which wasn’t to say he’d never been awakened early by an amorous and handsy Edge, ready for a different kind of wakeup call, but Stretch tended to fall back asleep afterward. In his humble opinion, it wasn’t worth getting out of bed until there was some form of light outside and that was a fact that Stretch was willing to stand by, with plenty of Twitter polls on his side.

So when he reached out sleepily to sweep a hand over the sheets, he wasn’t exactly surprised when the only thing that greeted his touch was 1000-thread count sheets. A little disappointed, yeah, a smidge grouchy, absolutely, but definitely not surprised.

Stretch sighed and rolled over to give the ceiling fan a good stare. It only stayed in place innocently, the fan blades not pausing one whit at his mood. Which, to be fair, Stretch wasn’t exactly sure he could even classify his current mood; right now it was more a jambalaya than any single ingredient. What a week.

After the kitchen crisis, once Edge got his fill of groping Stretch’s soul, they’d gone upstairs, Stretch helping Edge to hop along for once rather than gathering up his crutches. That’d been a comedy of errors right there, they’d probably looked like some kind of tortured three-legged race, hobbling along. They’d gone right to bed, do not pass go, skip the two-hundred, and lain there wrapped around each other, Edge still petting his sternum even though his soul was no longer visible. Stretch really had no idea when he’d fallen asleep or when Edge crept out of bed, but it must’ve been a fun trip downstairs without his crutches. Hopefully not a literal one.

Stretch gave up on his contemplation of the ceiling fan to glance at his phone. The time made him blink. After using so much magic to heal Red, he’d been expecting to sleep in ‘til noon before guiltily creeping out to feed the ladies. But unless he’d accidentally changed the time zone, it was only nine o’clock. Huh. Magic drain was exhausting and he hadn’t eaten so much as a piece of burnt toast afterward and yet, he didn’t feel tired. Honestly, he almost felt energized, ready to get up and face the day.

Was this how Edge always felt in the morning? That was kind of terrifying. No wonder only half of the brotherly teams got to be energetic, hell, just thinking about Red waking up with his battery fully charged was giving him the creeps, he’d probably try to take over the world.

Thinking of that little pain-in-the-ass goblin made him wince. He really hoped Red was doing okay. There were no text messages waiting for him, but maybe Edge knew.

Welp, may as well get up and go find out. Maybe they’d be going on with the shitty continuation of opposite week, where he got to be the protective one, Edge got to lay around all day, and both of them would be a lot happier when things got back to normal.

The bedroom was a little chilly outside the toasty warm blankets, enough that he scrambled over to where his bathrobe was hung on the back of the bedroom door. Stretch slipped it on over his bare bones. Real clothes could come after coffee. He opened the door and that was when he heard muffled voices that were definitely not from the television. Kinda early for reasonable visitors and Stretch tightened the belt on his bathrobe, no point in giving a free show, and peered downstairs to see what sort of nefarious characters decided to drop by this time.

Honestly, they needed one of those prohibited door signs, except they could cross off ‘solicitors’ and write in ‘drama’. Stretch had pretty much had his fill of that sort of excitement, thanks.

But nefarious probably wasn’t the best way to describe the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Monsters who were standing at their kitchen door with Edge. Familiar Monsters, actually, Stretch thought they worked at the Embassy. In their hands were mops and carriers loaded with cleaning supplies. Their pointed ears swiveled in his direction and they looked up in unison, both giving him a wave as they went into the kitchen, although what the hell that wary look was for, he wasn’t sure. Usually he wasn’t considered the scary skeleton in the closet in this relationship.

Usually.

Edge was leaning on his crutches and as soon as Stretch got a good look, relief flooded his soul. He was looking pretty bright-eyed himself even minus the tail, and his smile was warm.

“Good morning, love.” Edge called up. There was no sign left of his near-breakdown the night before, so maybe a snuggly night’s sleep did him some good. Firmly competent looked like the phrase of the day and Stretch was down with that, he really was.

30 seconds on the stairs seemed like a criminal waste of time this morning and Stretch shortcutted down instead, very nearly right on top of Edge. He happily ignored his husband’s exasperated sigh, stealing a kiss before he murmured, “mornin’. what’s going on?”

Not that he couldn’t guess, they probably weren’t using the mops to whip up a five-course meal.

Once Edge was finished shaking his head in fond resignation over unnecessary teleportation, he pulled him close, trying to work out a way to hold him around the crutches. It took him a minute to whomp up a strategy that let him lean a little weight on Stretch, the rest on a carefully balanced crutch, and none at all on his casted foot, and only then did Edge offer up a lingering return kiss of his own.

By the time, he drew back, Stretch almost forgot his own question and Edge’s satisfied smirk meant he knew it, even as he said, “Sans sent a team over to check on our kitchen. What’s left of it. He explained to them about how the experiment you were doing went wrong and they’re going to handle the mess. I’m sure he would have brought them himself, but Red is still sleeping off that hangover.”

Coded message received, Red was doing okay. But it was the previous little tidbit that cut through his relief and brought his thoughts to a screeching halt. His mouth dropped open, excuse me, his experiment? And he couldn’t say a damn thing, not with those guys working in the kitchen with the satellite dishes they had for ears all prepped to listen in on some sweet gossip. All he could do was glare at Edge, whose eye lights glittered with obvious amusement.

Dude, not cool. That was going to be all over the Embassy and probably topple the whole ‘showing up naked in a sheet’ as his highest rated fiasco. What a dick move, he liked to come up with his own disasters, thanks, he didn’t need help. Except, of the two of them, people would buy him blowing up the kitchen over Edge at about a thousand to one ratio. Which was probably why Sans came up with that scenario to begin with.

Stretch sighed. Welp, the cover story was out there and now they had to roll with it. Yeah, okay, he could take one for the team, but if he was taking the heat for this, it better have a reward, sexual favors preferred, and not from Sans, either.

He and Edge could discuss a payment plan later.

“that was very nice of sans,” Stretch gritted out. He jerked his head towards the kitchen. “are they even going to be able to clean it all up?”

“Possibly, but I’m not going to try.” Edge gave him another light kiss around his scowl, then let go and headed for the sofa. His small groan of relief as he put his foot up was a pretty damn big clue that he’d probably been standing too long. “I’ve decided with the amount of damage, I’d like to do a full remodel, instead.”

“yeah?” He knelt down to help Edge get his casted foot settled on the pillows. Most of the red paint on it was cleared away, leaving the drawings and signatures underneath tinted pink but it didn’t look too bad. Which meant Edge was probably up way too early if he’d gotten that cleaned up, the brat.

But back on subject before his brain train rattled off the wrong way. Huh, kitchen remodel. Edge had been living here for a few years before Stretch, and the kitchen was definitely his personal territory so if he wanted a makeover, totally his choice. To be honest, he’d sort of expected Edge to be distraught over his kitchen, but right now, he seemed pretty damn serene.

“i mean, yeah, you should. treat yourself.” He gave Edge a sour look, adding dryly, “not like i can complain, since i did ruin your kitchen and all. with my ‘experiments’.” Since their cleaning crew could hear but not see, he went ahead and gave it the whole finger quotes treatment. Probably needed to get Sans to give him the details about ‘the wreckening’, unless his plan was to go all ‘we don’t talk about science club’ with it.

A gloved hand smoothed over his skull, ripe with silent apology. Stretch leaned into it and let it mollify him, for now. “Today they’re only handling basic cleaning up. I’ll contact the building team and see when they’ll be available, and we can work out a plan. Did you want to help me pick out new tile?”

Uh. About as much as he wanted to install a few chalkboards around the house and give ‘em a good scratch whenever he walked by.

Edge must’ve read that off his face like a headline, because his mouth curved in faint amusement. “Then I’d like to ask a favor.”

“anything.” Seriously, picking out tile with Edge sounded as entertaining as weekend plans to watch paint dry. No pun intended.

“Someday, I will teach you all to ask for terms before agreeing so readily,” Edge murmured, almost to himself, then louder, “I have a couple pairs of trousers that I’d like you to take into the tailor for alterations. I’ve already spoken to them and given them measurements, but I need for the pant leg to fit around my cast for when I go back to work next week. I’m afraid my current attire doesn’t exactly fit with dress code.”

Edge looked down at himself in distaste and Stretch had to agree; it’d been pretty weird to see Edge lounging around in shorts all week long. Not that Stretch was complaining, he was fine with bare bones, even put up a good argument for it, which Edge successfully disputed with a firm ‘no’. Of course, he’d paired those shorts with plain t-shirts, no sweaters or button-ups even if he was chilly, because Angel forbid he doesn’t match, seriously, Edge might lose his membership to ‘Sharp Dressed Monthly’. But yeah, if he went into the Embassy dressed like that, they might arrest him as like, a spy or a clone or something.

“yeah, you gotta follow dress code. you don’t want janice to have to punish you for being a bad boy,” Stretch said, slyly, just to see if he could get Edge’s socket to twitch. “that’s my job.”

Edge ignored that because he was boring that way. “A sense of normalcy would be much appreciated as well.”

That had a certain weariness layered beneath it and Stretch tossed his playfulness on a mental shelf for later use. He settled a hand over Edge’s gloved one, squeezing gently as he asked softly, “babe? you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” His firm tone of voice was pretty convincing, but, maybe he wasn’t quite as okay as he seemed? Hard to tell and there was no way Edge wasn’t going to put up a good front with anyone else in the house. “I did want to ask, have you considered allowing me to speak with your therapist for my assessment? I’m not trying to rush you, there’s plenty of time, I’m only working on planning out my week.”

“i--” Stretch sank back on his heels, swallowing hard. He hadn’t considered it, honestly, he’d mostly forgotten about it with everything else going on.

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it, but it made his soul feel weirdly tight and itchy. If Edge spoke to his therapist, she’d be talking to him knowing all the things Stretch had told her in confidence, all the things he hadn’t even been able to speak of to Edge. Those were the sessions he was speaking more to the carpet than his therapist, but it was still a relief to get it out, lancing mental wounds he’d had for so long he barely noticed the pain anymore. But, so what, did he really think she’d be blabbing it to Edge? Her experiences with him and Sans probably made her the most qualified Human on the planet to help Edge through any problems or trauma. She’d take good care of him, and suddenly the choice was an easy one.

He reached out and cupped Edge’s face in his hand, fingertips grazing the crack through his socket. “you know what, yeah. call her. i trust you both.”

“Thank you,” Edge told him with quiet sincerity. He took Stretch’s hand in both his own, drawing it over to press a light kiss against his knuckles. “For trusting me.” Then he promptly betrayed it by shifted his grip to Stretch’s wrist and pulled, toppling him into his lap. He yelped, trying to keep most of his weight off Edge before he hurt his fool self, but it was useless with Mister Grabby Hands holding on tight. “And I’m sorry, what was that about me being a bad boy? I think you’re the one who gets into the most trouble in this relationship, hmmm?”

“you’d think, but i ain’t the one with a broken foot...edge!” He squealed a laugh as Edge gave him a poke in the ribs, right where he was most ticklish. He let up for a second, letting Stretch catch his breath, only to double down, tickling madly while Stretch squirmed and shrieked. One leg kicked out without his permission, narrowly missing a lamp on the side table, and Stretch gasped out through laughter, “stop! haven’t we broken enough lately?”

Before Edge could offer his opinion on that, heck, maybe he was hoping to remodel the living room, too, the kitchen door swung open and two burly Monsters bustled on out, mops in hand and just in time to catch a front row seat.

“Okay, so we’ve got the worst of--whoops, sorry!”

The tall guy took an instinctive step back, right into the shorter one, who hastily turned to try getting out of the way. Only he forgot about the mop in his hands, and it turned with him, smacking his companion in the face with a wet slap. That sent his buddy reeling, swinging around to give the mop treatment right back.

While they were working on their Stooges impression, Stretch hastily scrambled out of Edge’s lap to his feet, barely avoiding the fingertips that tried to snag onto him again, not this time, brat. That didn’t stop the heat of a blush scalding across his cheek bones as he yanked his robe down modestly, yeah, there was more gossip for the Embassy, if Tall Boy and The Short One ever stopped sputtering through their facefuls of dirty mop.

A glance at Edge didn’t help, either, his face was schooled to calmness already, not even cracking a smile at the comedy gold in front of him. How was it he managed to look cool and professional with one foot in a cast and gym shorts? He probably didn’t even need to modify his trousers, one sharp look would shut any complainers right up. Even his damn t-shirt looked freshly ironed. Meanwhile, Stretch was feeling kinda sweaty and unwashed in his bathrobe, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. A mop in the face might even feel refreshing right about now, but that seemed like a thought best kept to himself.

“Thank you for your help,” Edge said evenly, sitting as regal as a King on his…uh…sofa. The two Stooges paused, and the power of Edge’s gaze seemed like enough to straighten them out, both of them turning back to Edge, nodding and smiling.

“Hey, no problem!” Tall Boy said heartily. “Anything to help out you and Sans.”

“Yeah, no problem, anything to help out,” The Short One agreed. “If you have any other...erm...” He slanted a knowing look at Stretch, like he hadn’t been re-enacting an entire slapstick routine two minutes ago right in their living room, “…experiment issues, give us a call.”

”oh, i sure will,” Stretch muttered darkly. “for all my ‘experiment issue’ needs.” He stalked over to the front door and held it open, forcing a smile, “but thanks guys, really appreciate it.”

Took a few more head bobs, but eventual Stretch managed to herd them out the door, mops and all. When he turned back to Edge, his head was dropped back against the sofa, his sockets closed. That stoic mask faded back a bit, leaving behind weariness.

Yeeeah, that disguise was slipping more by the minute. Stretch sat back down next to him. “babe, are you sure you’re okay? lotta shit went down yesterday.”

Edge opened his sockets and offered him a faint smile. “Yes.” He reached out and ran his thumb gently across Stretch’s cheek bone. “I’m only a little tired.” His smile turned wry. “I can guess some of what you’re thinking, you know. Yesterday was difficult, and yes, my kitchen is important to me. But I’ve been very recently reminded that nothing is as important as the people in my life. You’re safe, my brother is safe. Your brother, Sans, Papyrus, Jeff and Antwan. Everyone I care about is safe. It’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?”

“yeah, it is,” Stretch agreed slowly. It was, but it didn’t mean Edge could turn off his emotions about it like a water spigot or even that he should. Maybe it was a good thing Edge was gonna be talking to his therapist; if nothing else, she was damn talented at finding the X marks the spot to dig at. Stretch knew that from personal, and painful, experience. “we’ll get the kitchen taken care of, so long as no one gives those two hammers.”

“Cleaning duty is probably better for everyone involved,” Edge agreed.

Understatement. “it’ll take me a little while in town, why don’t you take a nap while i’m gone?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question, so he was surprised when Edge nodded. “I will, love. And I won’t touch any work until you get back.”

Good enough.

By the time he fed the chickens, got dressed, and headed back downstairs, Edge was already asleep, his foot propped on the sofa arm and the rest of him hidden beneath the fluffy blanket from the back of the couch. That was good, let him rest, let him find his balance again. Tempting as it was to straightened the blanket or give that much-loved skull a pat, Stretch kept his hands to himself. Better not to take the chance of startling him, Toriel wouldn’t be happy if he voided her warranty, but damn if he didn’t want to.

For all his doubts, the Stooges actually did a pretty good job of cleaning up the kitchen. The remains of the table were cleared away and so was the worst of the paint. Stretch poured himself a travel mug of coffee before heading out to the bus stop, garment bag in hand.

A stop at the tailors to get his baby some real pants would help him get back in the direction of the normal Edge was craving. He hoped. Looked like Opposite Week wasn’t quite finished yet but that was okay. Stretch didn’t mind getting to be the protector, for once.

-fin

[fuckmewithyourtoespj]

reddie + misc 1

this simply ran away from me and went so overboard i’m sorry you have to stand witness to me Not Being Able To Shut Up jane jhshdhfhd

“All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

The first time Richie saw him, he almost tore someone’s head off over the ‘abysmal, completely fucking repulsive’ state they had left the kitchen in. It was two plates, a stick of butter, and a pan left out on the counter. 

He was loud, brown-eyed, and 5′7″ (at most) worth of curly-haired indignation and health facts. He was sporting a worn out band tee that was practically drowning him, sweatpants with one leg rolled up to above his knee, no socks (or shoes), and a rather impressive bedhead, none of which gave him pause for even a second when ripping into the other guy at 7.15 on a Saturday morning. Richie hadn’t been able to look away.

(or stop thinking about it for days following the incident; that guy sure had been something to contend with)

The second time Richie saw him, it was his only morning class of the week (or the month, if you counted how often he actually attended. Richie didn’t), a Thursday. He had stopped in the doorway into the dining hall, looking as wrecked - if not more - as the first time Richie saw him, saw what Richie had chosen to eat his cereal with instead of milk (orange juice), said ‘nope’ loudly, and turned right the fuck back around. 

Bill, who had been passed out in the seat next to Richie’s, lifted his head just in time to see someone leaving faster than if someone had bit him in the ass. 

“What happened?” He had asked, and Richie shook his head slowly. To be frank, he hardly heard what Bill had said, his brain lagging, eyes glued to the spot that had been occupied by the fluffiest hair he’d ever seen just a few seconds prior.

(he couldn’t answer Bill even if he tried, his heart was beating too fast and his throat was too dry, and he was starting to feel dread settling at the bottom of his stomach)

The third time Richie saw him, he had gotten up early on a Friday, for no particular reason at all. Just like that. Naturally. 

And he had walked down to the dining hall at 7.05 am, naturally, made his coffee and eggs and gross cereal, sitting down in the seat with the best vantage point, naturally. Because that was natural for him. 

When he arrived, Richie watched him stumble into three tables before making it to the kitchen, hand shielding his already mostly closed eyes, and punch one of the fridges after walking headfirst into it. Then Richie watched him take out half a boiled egg, dish out a spoonful of mayonnaise onto it, eat half with his eyes closed, then chug half a carton of milk from the carton, put the carton back in the fridge, and take out a block of cheese before closing it. 

Richie was getting the impression that maybe mornings weren’t this guy’s deal either. 

His eyes caught Richie’s as he walked out the kitchen, half-eaten mayonnaise-y egg and whole ass block of cheese in hand. Before Richie realized what was happening it was way too late to pretend he hadn’t been staring. 

For a while he just stared too, swaying on his feet, before his eyes flicked over to Richie’s breakfast and the perplexed crease between his brows turned into one of anger and disgust, and, as he continued on his way out of the dining hall, he pushed Richie’s bottle of orange juice over. 

(a jolt went through Richie, his face burning, and he felt the beginnings of a  desire to find out who this guy was prickling at the back of his neck. he didn’t like what was happening at all)

–

His name was Eddie. 

This is something Richie found out the fourth time he saw him, while picking Bill up from his noon class for Friday lunch (buying a shitty baguette each at the cafeteria and getting high on the hill behind the art building), almost falling and cracking his head open on the edge of a desk at the sight that met his eyes upon entering the lecture hall. 

Because. There he was, a way down. Talking. To a guy.

Talking to a guy that was Bill. 

And then he was turning away from Bill. Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder. Gesturing over his shoulder, something that may or may not have been a wave. 

He was going to walk towards the exit! 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Richie’s brain jumped out the nearest window at the same time Richie dove under the nearest desk. He hit his head on a table leg, swore loudly, swore a lot. Got discovered, naturally.

Not his proudest moment, truth be told.

“You’re that orange juice and cereal guy, right?”

Richie felt one thing and one thing only wash over him. Fear.

That was not Bill’s voice. Bill wouldn’t ask him who he was, anyway. Bill knew very well who he was. No, this was the voice that had endeared him so when hearing it cussing someone out for being mildly unsanitary. This was the voice that had directed nothing but the word ‘nope’ at him specifically, yet still managed to accelerate his heart-rate to speeds before unknown to Richie, still managed to make the room’s temperature rise by dangerous amounts.

Or maybe that was just Richie’s body temperature. Who knew.

Richie opened his eyes, slowly, and oh fuck. From his vantage point down on the floor, this mystery orange plus cheerios hater looked like an angel, a brown-haired, brown-eyed, freckled 5′7″ (or shorter) angel that looked…

Hm. What was that emotion? Anger? Concern? Discontentment? Amusement?

Boredom? 

Fuck, Richie hoped it wasn’t boredom.

“Yep, that’s me,” he answered finally, and holy fuck was that his voice? He couldn’t actually sound that out of breath, right? 

The guy nodded, and stood there in silence for a moment, eyeing Richie - what was that look? - before shaking his head, and picking his bag up off the seat in front of him, before-

“You’re so fucking weird, dude.” 

And then he was gone. But he had-

He had laughed. Chuckled, really. Which meant he…

He didn’t think Richie was boring. Might have thought he was funny even. 

Bill found him still laying there, eyes sparkling with something Bill had never seen on Richie before, grinning goofily up at the desk above him, no doubt covered in chewed-up gum as old as the school itself. 

“What the f-f-fuck, Rich?” 

“Bill!” Richie shot right up upon hearing the sound of Bill’s voice, the memories of the past ten years and growing too tall to even fit underneath a desk at all let alone comfortably evidently escaping him for the moment, or else he might not have hit the edge of the desk with his forehead. He didn’t seem too bothered about it though. “Ow. Bill! Bill are you listening?!” 

“Yes, Richie, what the fuck?”

“Bill, you have to tell me who that fucking guy was.” 

–

The next time Richie saw him, it wasn’t Richie who saw Eddie at all. It was, in fact, Eddie who saw Richie. He sat down opposite Richie, wearing an over-sized hoodie, bottoms that could only be described as booty shorts, and flip flops, and simply asked (demanded) Richie to pass his orange juice. Richie, brain still stuck in the past, in the moment he had noticed the shorts, pushed it towards him wordlessly, to which Eddie uttered ‘thanks’, and, without missing a beat, started rambling about how much he hated his professor, his car issues, and his friend Ben’s idiotic lady drama, stopping from time to time to make his disgust at Richie’s food choices unequivocally clear. 

(and Richie was gone, he was so gone, even trying to convince himself otherwise was useless at this point)

–

“You are so stupid, the dumbest person I’ve ever met in the entire world, you know that? You’re so dumb, every time I talk to you I can just feel my braincells leaking out. You are making me dumber, that’s how stupid you are, asshole. Your own mother-” 

“Yeah your mother’s hot too, what’s the problem, spaghetti?” 

“The problem? THE PROB- don’t fucking call me that Richie, I swear to God - the PROBLEM!!! Unbelievable. The problem is, Richie, this. This right here.” 

“I don’t see a problem.” 

“YOU DON’T SEE A- Richie, I am going to kill you. I hate this. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. Who the FUCK packs a dishwasher like this? You’re such an asshole, for fuck’s sake… Now I have to do it.”

“Please, do go ahead, Eds,” Eddie held his middle finger up at Richie, and Richie, cackling, leaned back on the counter behind him as Eddie started taking out plates, muttering under his breath the entire time. 

For the past month, this had been routine. Eddie and Richie woke up (early, way too early for either of their likings, so why they continued to do so was beyond Richie), met in the dining hall or the stairwell, argued, ate breakfast, argued, cleaned up after themselves, argued. Sometimes, Bill would join them too, but he wouldn’t contribute much apart from falling asleep while eating and telling the other two to shut up once in a while. 

To anyone observing from the outside, they looked simply like an old married couple (as well as the two most obnoxious fuckers in the building, but that was besides the point). To Bill… Bill didn’t give a fuck about what was happening there, he just knew it was too early for it to be happening. To Richie…

Well. That thought would have to wait. Because when Richie had suggested Eddie repack the dishwasher, he didn’t really think about- well. He didn’t really think. 

Because Eddie, well. Eddie was wearing those ridiculous fucking shorts, the ones Eddie insisted were not booty shorts even though they fucking were, the ones he owned multiple pairs of in various colors, the ones that showed his ass in just the tastiest of ways when Eddie leaned over the dishwasher. 

And Richie? He put himself in a position where had no choice but to look on. Just sip his coffee and ponder the nice, shapely curves of Eddie’s ass…

Nope. Wasn’t happening. 

Richie must have made some kind of noise because before he’d even had the time to turn away Eddie was straightening up (which did wonders for Richie’s heart-rate) and turning in Richie’s direction. There was a look on his face that Richie did not like, did not like at all.

“You okay there, Rich?” 

Richie did not know how to answer that question. 

“You’re looking a little red. Are you sick?” Eddie took a step forward, an absolutely evil smile on his face. “Got a fever, maybe?” 

Richie was going to kill him. Just straight up murder him. “I’m fine.” 

“You sure about that?” Richie avoided Eddie’s gaze as if he were going to explode on sight if he met it. Eddie was too close, close enough that Richie could feel his breath on his face, close enough that he could do something stupid if he really wanted to. It was simply put, too much to handle.

“You forgot to turn the dishwasher on.” Richie informed, deflecting, stepping around Eddie carefully, not trusting himself to even brush shoulders with him at the moment. He reached into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a box of dishwasher capsules, ignoring the fact that Eddie hadn’t finished repacking the dishwasher yet. 

“You ever going to ask me out?” 

Richie’s brain short-circuited, and he dropped the box of capsules. His coffee would have gone too, if he hadn’t regained his senses in just the right moment and placed the hand previously holding the capsules on the cup, steadying it. He turned and gaped at Eddie, mouth falling open in disbelief. 

Had Eddie really just said that? Had those words really come out of Eddie’s mouth? And they were directed at him, Richie? Richie “Trashmouth, has never known when to shut up for a God damned second in his life” Tozier? Richie Tozier? Not another Richie? Him? 

“But all I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” 

“Oh I am very well aware of that fact.” 

“And you want me to ask you out?” Richie reiterated. 

“Yes.” 

It simply did not make sense. In no universe did the cute guy with the curly hair and the brown doe eyes and the freckles, the guy who was way out of Richie’s league, by the way, the guy Richie had been pining over for the better part of two months, with his deadly little booty shorts and his truly fatal comebacks, want Richie back. It just didn’t happen.

And yet…

Eddie looked so confident. So sure of himself. The question in the raise of his eyebrows, the tilt of his lips, the way he was almost brushing Richie’s elbow with his fingertips. It was driving Richie off the edge. Erasing absolutely all rational thought. It was a wasteland up there, in his brain, nothing but TV static and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Which is why he simply had no choice but to say something stupid. 

“Why does it have to be me and not you? Why can’t you ask me out?”

“I don’t know if your old man memory is too shit to remember, but I was the one who spoke to you first, I took the first step. I am the only reason we’re talking right now.” It was possible that Richie might have had an answer for that, but it was in that moment Eddie chose to place a hand on his chest, and all attempts at a thought went flushing out again. “I can’t be the one doing all the work in this relationship, Richie.” 

“You,” Richie’s brain stuttered and came to a stop at the word ‘relationship’. Maybe if Eddie stopped biting his lip and smiling like that he’d be able to get a coherent sentence out, but why should Richie get to be a functioning human being, right?

“So, you ever gonna ask me or not?”

“Yes.” 

“Good,” Eddie patted Richie’s chest before taking his hand away, (Richie felt a horrifying urge to whimper at the loss, the place Eddie’s hand had just been burning up), only to run it through a few of Richie’s curls. He stayed there for a second, and Richie thought he saw his composure slipping away. His eyes started drifting away, somewhere Richie was desperate to follow, wherever it was, and Richie was this close to reaching in…

But then Eddie was gone, over by the dishwasher again. Just like that, he and his fuckass booty shorts were gone, placing cups with a neatness Richie wouldn’t be able to achieve even on his best day, and Richie…

(Richie needed to take a nap)

send me a ship/dynamic and one of these and i’ll write a ficlet anything ranging from a ficlet to a full length 150k word fic apparently

[inactiive-shit]

Just... stay for the night

Thank you! I know this prompt was from an angst starters list, and I tried to aim for that, but this came out more hurt/comfort. I hope you like it, regardless.

Title: Snake-umentary

Pairing: Romantic Anxceit

Words: 1,472

Warnings: panic attack, dissociation, car crash mention

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Virgil has spent the day running around like a headless chicken. First his fire alarm woke him at four in the morning. There was no fire, but after starting his day with a panic attack, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So then he went to work on some of his commissions and accidentally deleted them, so he had to message the recipients to ask what they wanted him to draw, which was more interaction than Virgil wanted before noon. And he’d realized the only thing he had in the fridge was grapes when he tried to make breakfast. Which meant Virgil also had to go to the grocery store, and then he also bought art supplies because he was already out, but that included a drawn out conversation with a chipper check-out clerk that accidentally misgendered him before bombarding him with questions about what kind of art he liked to do.

By the time he finally got home, he was exhausted and the ice cream he bought had melted and all Virgil really wanted to do was lie down for a nap. But of course his stupid brain betrayed him again and wouldn’t even let him have that.

And as if all that wasn’t bad enough, his friend got in a crash. He’s fine, just a few bruises and a fucked up car, but there was enough of an interim between news of the crash and the outcome that Virgil had worked himself into another panic attack, as though that could have possibly aided the situation at all.

So, yeah, it’s eleven o’clock at night Virgil is functioning on about two hours of sleep—though that was a generous estimate—and not nearly as much food as he should’ve eaten. He feels sick and tired and just wants to sleep but he keeps getting jittery and pacing around his apartment and resisting the urge to call Roman and make sure he’s okay because that would just be annoying, he already talked to Roman and he knows he’s fine.

Maybe he should call again. Just to be sure.

His fingers hover over the buttons, debating the merits of calling. He could text, of course, and then Roman could respond whenever he felt like it and it wouldn’t have to be such a thing like this, but if he asked how Roman was doing and Roman didn’t respond for a while, that could very well induce another panic attack because he could be hurt and Virgil wouldn’t know, oh shit-

There’s a knock on the door, yanking Virgil out of his spiral as effectively as if someone had slapped him. He’d a friend do that, once, actually, because he didn’t know how to help and panicked, and it had stopped all of Virgil’s thought processes in their tracks as he tried to figure out what the fuck had happened in the real world and why was his face stinging.

Another knock on the door lets Virgil know that he still hasn’t opened it yet, so he drags himself across the room and opens the door, half-hoping and half-expecting that Roman will be standing there, in all his bruised-but-okay glory, and tell Virgil he could hear him worrying from across town.

Instead, it’s the last person Virgil was expecting.

“Oh,” he says, “hey.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Dee says, rolling his eyes. He’s wearing his fingerless yellow gloves and his snake contact and the leather jacket that most people never saw him without, baggy jeans and doc martens. There’s a bag of food from a local chinese restaurant in his hand.

“I totally fuckin’ spaced,” Virgil says, remembering that he was supposed to be having an eat-in date with his boyfriend tonight. “I’m a shitty person.”

“Forgot about me?” Dee says, bumping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. “How rude.” He keeps talking, but Virgil’s too focused on Everything and Nothing like they’re concrete objects and not the most overwhelming intangible thing Virgil has ever had to deal with.

Is he panicking again? He’s too tired for this shit.

He comes back to reality who knows how long later. He’s sitting on the couch, somehow, Dee pressed into his side. The food is sitting on the floor in front of him and there’s some show he’s never seen before playing on t.v. He starts picking at his nail out of habit, confused. More than halfway to scared but unwilling to admit it.

“Back?” Dee asks quietly, lifting his head up to look into Virgil’s face.

“Uh,” Virgil says, “yeah. How long…”

“It’s almost twelve,” Dee says. “So, little less than an hour.”

“Shit,” Virgil says. “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

“Woah.” Dee pulls himself up so he’s sitting, facing Virgil. “There’s not a need for all that. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil says, but the words sound like they’re teeth being pulled out with pliers or the rattle of a snake right before it bites. Virgil knows immediately that this won’t pass.

“Try again,” Dee says flatly. Despite his tone, his eyebrows are creased slightly and his lips are pursed. He has a hand on one of Virgil’s, just enough to ground him in the moment instead of launching off into whatever brain-fuck he gets stuck in like that.

“Uhm, it’s just been a lot. Today.” He hesitates, but Dee’s eyes stay right on him, ready to listen to whatever Virgil has to say, so he spills every detail of his day, from the big stuff (the crash, being misgendered) to the little stuff (the shitty song that got stuck in his head, the person with aggressively bubblegum pink pigtails), and once he’s finally done, he feels better.

“That’s shit,” Dee says. He kisses Virgil’s cheek and then picks up a cold container of rice. “It sucks that your day went like that. The only remotely remarkable thing that happened to me today was someone coming in and asking for a tattoo of Where’s Waldo with his dick out.” He passes the rice to Virgil. “Also, your friends aren’t going to be mad that you’re worried about them. They aren’t going to be pissed if you call to make sure they’re okay, especially after some shit like a crash.”

“But what if they are,” Virgil says, eating a little rice.

“Then I will kick their ass and you won’t have anything to worry about either way.” Dee grins, his sharp smile with his abnormally sharp canines that always puts people on edge. It makes Virgil’s heart melt.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “You could have eaten without me, you know.”

“No. I came over to relax with my boyfriend, not eat food alone while wondering who I needed to kill. We will eat together.” Dee taps his cardboard container into Virgil’s. “Though, it is getting pretty late. I’m gonna have to get out of here soon.”

“Stay,” Virgil blurts before he can think better of it. Dee raises an eyebrow at Virgil, and he refuses to look down. “Just…stay for tonight. Please.”

“Patton always comes over on Friday mornings for breakfast. As in, tomorrow. Your friends,” Dee starts, but they’ve had this conversation enough times and all Virgil really wants at this moment is to have his boyfriend with him and not going anywhere.

“Fuck it,” Virgil says, voice heated, cutting Dee off. Dee stops, doing a bad job of hiding his shock. “Fuck it,” he repeats. “Listen, they have misconceptions about you and our friendship was new enough that I didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up. But-but you are my boyfriend, so if they want me, they’re damn well going to have to get over it.” Virgil sighs quietly, losing steam. He’s too tired to make an impassioned speech about loyalties and relationships like he wants to. “I know you have work in the morning. If you can’t, I get it. It’s fine.”

“No,” Dee says. “If you want me to stay, I’m not going to move my ass off this couch. I just want you to be sure, because if I’m still here when he gets here, there’s no taking this back.” He holds Virgil’s face in his hands, gentle and loving.

“I’m sure. Promise. There’s not any part of this I want to take back.” He leans in and Dee meets him for a kiss. It tastes like soy sauce. “I’m going to text Patton, let him know I have a plus one.” Virgil pulls out his phone and shoots off a text, not expecting a response two minutes later that reads, Samesies! Can’t wait, kiddo!

Virgil decides not to dwell on what that could mean.

“Your eyes are barely open,” Dee breathes, relaxing into Virgil’s chest. “Let my snake-umentary take you to dreamland. I’ll meet you there.” Virgil smiles even though Dee can’t see it, dopey with feeling this much and finally feeling safe enough to sleep.

[magnolia-penn]

Aizawa.Exe

Just a drabble that ended up being waaaay too long.

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of sex, Shitty writing

Under the cut cuz it’s long af

Life has never quite gone your way. There would be high moments that came with teaching high schoolers that strove to become heroes but the loneliness was unbearable. Living in Japan away from your family and friends left a hole in your heart that only got deeper after every failed date or hookup.

You had often joked about your high standards with your colleagues at UA, even to the point of openly wishing for a Build Your Own Boyfriend website. Everyone had laughed but continued to reprimand you for having your standards too high.

It was on your walk home that the ad had first caught your attention.

“Are your standards too high?” The smooth female advert cut through your epic jam session. “Well, do we have a solution for you.”

The advertisement had listed off a website that would allow you to custom order an intelligent robot that would learn and grow to your needs.

You blew it off as clickbait and skipped the ad as soon as you could. You finished your walk home and promptly took a shower. A certain ash blond in your heroics class had chased another student into the forest and you had to chase the both of them down.

As you settled into your nightly routine, you found it hard to keep your mind from wandering back to the ad, imagining the sort of man you’d order.

‘He’d have to be at least six feet tall and handsome as the devil. Hmm, punctual and unafraid to sleep until noon with a sense of humor.’

You continued to play with that idea through the evening and into your slumber, dreaming of what he might look like and how he would feel.

The next morning, you were awoken by a very flustered and excited Nemuri, who let herself in again.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! HAVE YOU SEEN THIS!” The R rated hero shoved her phone into your face before you had even opened your eyes to process what was going on.

Her web browser was open to the website you heard about yesterday.

“YOU CAN CUSTOM ORDER A ROBOT BISHIE BOYFRIEND! THEY EVEN HAVE A COLONEL SANDERS!”

“Nem, you’re an absolute horndog and you don’t need a bishie boyfriend Colonel Sanders. What time is it?” You pulled some hair that had stuck you face via drool from your mouth and stretched.

“ITS 5:45 AM!”

“NEMURI WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!”

You wrestled her into your guest bedroom and pushed an old wardrobe infront of the door to keep her in while you finished getting your beauty sleep.

When 7:00 rolled around, you released your friend and listened to her rant about the website over breakfast.

“Just look at it, Y/N. Please~” You swiped her phone from her hand and scrolles through the other tabs that held customization screens.

“Oh lord.” They had an entire tab for just his manhood.

“Pretty great, huh?”

The idea of customizing a boyfriend almost seemed taboo to you.

“It sounds like it could be clickbait or a way to steal your credit card information.” You returned her phone and turned to the stove to flip the egg you were cooking.

“Uh huh. And what if I told its not?” Nemuri pushes her chest against your back.

“Get off me, and how?” You gently pushed her away from you.

“I ordered one. He came last week.” The smirk she gave proved she was not kidding. “He’s absolutely perfect. After classes today, you can come and see him.”

She really did it? Strangely enough, you’re not surprised she did that.

“Wait, what about Snipe?” You thought everything was going smooth between them.

“Well, our relationship just was kind of a blur between dating and friends with benefits. Our sex was more chill and relaxed then it ever was actually passionate.” Nemuri reached into a cabinet and grabbed a plate.

You nodded in understanding. The majority of your dates ended up in friendships then actual relationships.

“And when I heard the ad for the boyfriend builder, he told me to get one. He said, and I quote, ‘You should get him. He’d make a better relationship. But if y'all ever need a real fuck, you know where to find me,’. AND I DID!”

Nemuri danced around with her egg on a plate before she sat down.

“Have you done anything with it yet?” You sat across from her and tilted your head in curiosity.

“Oh yes. We’ve been on dates and Hizashi is the absolute sweetest. I can’t wait to ravage him.”

“Hizashi?” It had a name?

She nodded. “The website has a name generator that you can use. They base their names off of the set personality. It chose Hizashi Yamada.”

“He sounds sweet.”

“Yep! He’s really loud though. They grow with you, so it’s understandable.”

You almost choked on your egg hearing that. “They’re practically sentient?!”

Nemuri nodded and quickly finished her egg. She washed her plate and announced that she had to go get ready for school. You followed her words and proceeded to get dressed. You lay everything out in the evening, so it didn’t take long to get ready. 

As you ran a comb through your hair, you opened the website on your phone. Deciding that there isn’t much to lose, you began to fill the order form out.

Six feet tall, Long Dark Hair, Just Enough Stubble To Be Sexy. The list went on. You managed to fill it out just in time to leave.

The daily trek to UA was as boring as ever, until you heard an strange noise. An animal in distress. Choosing that you’d rather be late to work then leave an animal hurt in the streets, you followed the noise. It lead to deep in an alley not far off your route.

You sifted through some garbage bags until you found the source of the noise. It was a mother cat with two little kittens. They were sickly thin and clearly struggling to survive. 

Evaluating your options, you came to the conclusion that instead of wasting more time to bring them to the vet all the way across town, you used your quirk to convince the mama cat to let you pick her and her babies up and quickly called up Recovery Girl to cash in a favor she owed you.

She agreed to help the cats and keep them in her office until the end of the day so you could take them home. Rushing to her office and then to your class left you breathless and dead on the floor in front of your students.

“Um, Miss. L/n? Are you alright?” Your problem student, Izuku Midoriya, asked.

“DANDY! JUST DANDY!” You yelled through the muffle of your hair and the floor. “I saved three cats from right outside my house, which is a half an hour walk from here, ran here, ran to Recovery Girl’s office, then up two flights of stairs to get here. I’m pooped.”

You got up and brushed yourself off. After apologizing to your class, you read off the daily announcements. You handed out graded papers and assisted students where they needed it until it was time for their first class of the day.

Using your free time, you stopped in to actually chat with Recovery Girl and check on the cats.

“They were malnourished and most likely wouldn’t of survived another day out there. Both kittens are sick but should recover swiftly, and the mom is already up and walking.” She explained.

“Have you figured out their genders?” You planned on keeping them and wished to find names for them as soon as possible.

“Ones a girl and the other is a boy. Are you going to keep them?”

You shook your head yes and squatted down to pet the mama who came up for some love. “I like the name Kayuma for the mother, but I still need some time for the babies. Maybe I’ll ask my class.”

Recovery Girl agreed and wrote some notes on the cats. You picked Kayuma up and pulled your phone from your pocket. You wanted to get a picture with your new cat, but your attention was pulled to a notification that went unnoticed.

Your order has been shipped! The package should arrive by 4pm!

“It’s already been shipped?” You wondered out loud.

“What’s been shipped?” You jumped at the new voice. Toshinori Yagi.

“Ah, some pet supplies for the cats. I ordered some after reading the announcements.” Technically not a lie because you really did.

“Oh! Already thinking about the newest additions to your family, how lovely.” Toshinori put a hand on your shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “If you ever need any help or a cat-sitter, you can always ask me. My master loved cats so I know a thing or two.”

“Thanks for the offer, Tosh. You’ll be the first I call.”

The bell rung signaling the start of lunch and had the three of you scrambling to prepare for the second half of the day.

A few brief meetings and some class prep later, the day had finally ended. You sent out a quick email to your students asking about names for the cats and packed up your stuff, ready to go home and meet your new boyfriend.

“Hey! Y/n! Wait up!” Nemuri bounced up to you and clung to your arm. “Are you going to come over tonight?”

“Um…. No. I have the cats and I have to get everything ready for them.” You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, hoping she wouldn’t catch on.

“Uh huh. How about Hizashi and I come by to meet your new boy?” Nemuri placed her hand on her hip knowing full well that you weren’t paying attention to what she said.

“Oh yes, that would be lovely.” It took a bit before you processed what she said. “NEMURI, WAIT! THE CATS! I THOUGHT YOU MEANT THE CATS!”

“NOPE! WE’RE COMING OVER!” Nemuri skipped away before you could get a word in otherwise, leaving you alone and quite exasperated.

You picked up the cats and trekked home, a feat easier said than done with three now energetic cats in your arms. You pushed the door of your house open with your foot. 

Sighing, you let the cats roam for a bit as you set up the litter box and feeders from previous pets. It was almost four and the nerves were getting to you. Watching the new kittens romp around the living room while Kayuma lied on a pillow by the heating vent.

‘I hope my bot likes cats. I want so many.’ You didn’t get much time to think about your new boyfriend due to Nemuri and Hizashi bursting in at exactly four.

“WHERE IS HEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!” Nemuri squealed as soon as she entered the living room.

“Hey! He hasn’t arrived yet. Do you see a large crate?” Hizashi placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her from pouncing on you. “I apologize for her, she’s terribly excited.”

“Oh yeah, I know. She’s literally vibrating with excitement. I don’t think she’s calmed down since high school.” You stood from the couch where you had placed yourself in preparation for her outburst. “My name is Y/n Y/L. Nem sings praises of your name.”

“I’m Hizashi Yamada. She speaks about you quite often.” He extended his hand and you took it.

Your eyes widened at the warmth of his hand. You weren’t expecting him to feel so…

“Real? Is that what you were thinking?” Hizashi’s words startled you from your thoughts. “It’s always that look when people know I’m a robot.”

“I hope I didn’t offend you! I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Better to get the shock over with me then with him.” Hizashi pointed to the door a second before a knock resonated through off of the front door. 

You walked to the door and opened it up. A beautiful woman was standing next to a six-foot large wooden crate. She resembled Nemuri.

“Hello! My name is Kiara! Thank you for ordering a Boyfriend! May we come in?” You nodded and open the door wider.

She picked up the crate with a trolley and rolled it into the house. She wheeled it into the living room and stopped in surprise when she saw Nemuri and Hizashi.

“Well, hello! How have you two been faring?” She set the crate down and stepped up to Hizashi. “You’re looking good.”

“We’ve been fine. How about you?” Hizashi responded.

“Oh, you know, delivering joy and boyfriends. My life and passion.” Kiara patted his shoulder and turned back to you. “Hizashi is probably one of my best. I’m so proud he got placed with my amazing cousin.”

Nemuri blushed and buried her face in Hizashi’s neck.

“Do you… Do you make them all?” You looked to the crate and to Hizashi.

“Yep! I hand make all of them! My quirk makes it super easy to finish quickly!” She clapped her hands together and her expression turned serious. “But enough about me. It’s now about you and your future!”

She quickly walked over to the crate and pulled the front off, revealing your new bot.

No, Boyfriend.

He was everything you imagined him to be. He was just right. He was perfect. He was…

NAKED

You quickly moved to throw a blanket over him while Nemuri cackled like a witch.

“Hah! You should’ve seen the look on your face! Oh, I should’ve gotten a picture!”

“YOU NEVER METIONED THAT THEY COME NAKED!”

“i DIDN’T FEEL THE NEED TOO!”

With that exchange, the two pro heroes pounced on each other in fight of friendly anger. With the attention on them, no one noticed the man in the crate open his eyes to the harsh light of the world. 

He looked down and noticed the blanket draped haphazardly across his body before readjusting it around his waist and stepping out of his container. 

A brief glance around with apathetic eyes shown that the room he was in was loud and obnoxious. Two people stood idly by as another two women fought on the floor. He padded up to the group undetected and observed the others in the room. With every attempt to tear his attention away from your form, the pull to you was overpowering.

Everything about you was mesmerizing. From your H/c hair to the gentle pull of your clothing around your curves. He was enthralled, absolutely enchanted.

“What the fuck is going on here. You two are squealing like pigs in the slaughter.” His mouth moved on its own, bringing the attention to him.

The look in our eyes is something that he’ll treasure forever. It was sweet and full of excitement and love. How he knew this, the answer never came to him, but he knew it was love and all he wanted was to see that look on your face forever.

“Oh! He’s awake! How are you feeling?” The woman in the business suit asked.

“Tired.” As much as he tried, he could not pry his eyes away from you. “Yet, I feel so full of energy.”

The only other male nodded. “Yep. When I first woke up, I felt like that.”

He cast his gaze to the male for as long as he could before his eyes trailed back to you. He smirked and took a step closer to you.

“Are you like us?”

You shook your head ‘no’, “Sadly, I am not. But I promise to love you like we are the same.”

“What’s his name?” The bluette asked suddenly. “Didja get one picked out from the site or did you have one in mind?”

With their eyes on you, it hit you like a truck when you realized that not only did you not have a name picked out for him, you forgot to click the enabler for the name generator.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,”  you dragged out. “I was so busy with classes and the cats that I forgot. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh. I’m a shitty girlfriend.”

“Cats?” He asked.

“Yeah. Three cats. They’re around here somewhere.” You flopped dramatically onto your couch and buried your face in your arms.

“Well, we could help. I made him and I know Hizashi’s creative. Not too sure about Midnight though.” Kiara suggested.

“Thanks Kiara. Nem, don’t take any offense to that. She doesn’t know you the way I do.” You peeked at your friends through your hair and noticed that your boyfriend has disappeared. Probably to find the cats.

“She’s right though.” Hizashi snickered.

Nemuri tackled him to the ground and all you could do was watch while they wrestled on the ground.

Suddenly, a knock at the door made you all jump.

“Shit, who is that?” You cursed before standing to get to the door when you heard it open.

A faint, “Um, hello sir. Is Y/n home?” was heard and then some shuffling. Toshinori.

“You’re fucked.” Nemuri said from the floor.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Not a second later, Toshinori followed him into the room where you all were. Thankfully he had found some clothes.

“Hey, Tosh~” You tried to say as casual as you could. “What brings you to this part of town?”

“Y/n, I live down the street from you and you left your papers back at U.A.” Toshinori held up the stack of paper you were certain you grabbed. “And I think you might have mine.”

“Oh yep! Probably. I was so frazzled and excited about the cats I must’ve grabbed the wrong stack. Here, come with me. They’re still in my bag.” You lead Toshinori into the hall where your bag was.

“The cats or him?” He asked and you choked on air. 

“W-wait. You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Uh huh. And what of that giant crate in your living room? It looks suspiciously like the one Nemuri threw out when she met her boyfriend.” He cocked an eyebrow at you. 

“Ugh. You’re a dumbass but you’re too smart.” You looked around despite the fact everyone in the house already knew. “He’s a bot I ordered.”

“Do you like him?” He asked.

“Huh? I’m not sure.” You pulled your bag off of the hook and started rifling through it. “I’m definitely attracted to him, but feelings will take time.” 

“Yet I can see the empathy in your eyes. There is some infatuation there.” 

“LEAVE ME ALONE! STOP BEING SMART!” You found the papers and checked to see if they were his. “Here. Do you want to meet him? I was going to have everyone stay for dinner to get to know each other.”

Toshinori nodded and quickly tucked his papers in his bag.

You walked back into the living room and the sight made your heart swell. All three of the cats had curled up on his lap while he sat on the couch between Kiara and Hizashi as Nemuri brushed his hair. They were quietly chatting about the cats that paused when we came in.

“Didja get it all figured out?” Nemuri asked.

“Yep. And you’re all staying for dinner. No questions.” You crossed your arms. “And we have a big problem. His name.”

“Oh. We handled that already.” Hizashi said. “Nem emailed your class asking about real names for the cats and then we gathered the responses and let him choose.”

“And?”

“Shota Aizawa.”

That name sent fuzzy feelings through you. It sounded perfect to you.

“Shota Aizawa.” You repeated. It rolled off the tongue beautifully.

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out. I just got it.” Shota quipped.

Nemuri coughed to hide a laugh and spit out her two-cents, “She’ll definitely be wearing it out tonight.”

You chucked a decorative pillow at her and went for the tackle.

As the two of you wrestled on the floor and the other three attempted to pry you two apart, Shota couldn’t help but to smile at the new family he was gifted.