#it's okay to want a bright pink gel pen

[sluggybasson107]

I was tagged by @patamon!! Thank you so much!! I’m very sorry about the wait, but I hope my answers are fun to read!

hot or cold shower: As appealing as a cold shower sounds, I must go with hot showers. Even in summer I can’t seem to handle cold showers, even though I love the cold :(

texting or calling: I’m torn between both. I love calling my close friends when I draw, but I worry a lot when I call people I’m not that close with. On the other hand, I find texting more efficient and fun at times, but I suffer a lot with not recognizing tone or sarcasm. Only my close friends use tone indicators to help me with this problem, which I really appreciate.

earbuds or headphones: You can pry my wired earbuds from my cold, dead hands 😤

paperback or hardcover: I want to say hardcover, but I don’t know why?? I think I like holding them more, that’s all.

matte or gel: I think this is referring to nails?? I don’t paint my nails at all, so I’ll say gel since I like that word more.

12 hr clock or 24 hr clock: I have all my devices set to a 24 hour clock. I find it more simple.

blue or green: This is hard!! It depends on what type of green/blue we’re talking about, but I think I generally like blues more? I love both a lot though!!

sunsets or sunrises: Sunrises!! I love waking up to eat breakfast with the sunrise.

tulips or orchids: Orchids 💕 They’re so sweet and nice to take care of.

candle light or moonlight: Moonlight! Being outside late at night with bright moonlight is magical. Not only that, but candle light scares me.

sci-fi or horror: Sci-fi ironically scares me the most, so I’ll take horror! Besides, I’m someone who’s okay with gore and creepy aesthetics.

pen or pencil: Even though I’m quicker with a pen, I feel more controlled with a pencil. I don’t even use erasers much when writing. It must be the artist in me who loves pencils.

pandas or koalas: Pandas are my favorite! 🐼

gold or silver: I love both! They can be worn and use in art so well. I’ll only say gold because rose gold is my favorite.

sneakers or boots: Crocs. I’ll never say anything else.

denim or leather jacket: This is the hardest so far 😭 I love wearing both all the time, and I take care of them. I’ll say leather because I have a jacket full of white fluffy material that’s adorable and so comfortable.

pink or purple: *Points to my icon* pink :D

choco or sour candy: SOUR!! Give me that funky tasting candy like toxic waste please.

deodorant or perfume: Deodorant? I feel indifferent about both.

drive-in theater or cinema: I’m not a movie person, so I guess cunema?? Indifferent about both.

pastel blue or earth tones: Definitely pastel blue! It’s very soft and nice.

lemonade or fruit juice: Lemonade!! I love the aesthetic and taste.

past or future: Past?? I think??

Tagging: @timelessanimo @dnofsunshine @citrus-cactus @sloanerisette @seventeenlovesthree @jumper-zuzu @darkened-storm @hallowed-nebulae @rurulaura @tottwriter @weregarurumon

There’s no pressure if you don’t want to do this though <33

[afternooncricket]

The Hamster

There’s a silence, sometimes, that seems to drape over the house when Alex isn’t looking. It’s in the careful posture of his father when he dusts around the delicate picture frames on the mantelpiece, in the darkness filtering into the living room at dusk when neither of them has got up to switch on the lights. It’s in the moment of quiet when they have finished eating together, before his father gets up to wash the plates. It’s the kind of silence that feels impossible to break.

Lately, this silence has been sitting inside Alex’s chest. He can feel it squatting there, small and fragile, like the hamster Alex buried in the back garden two years ago. He imagines it sometimes, its little round body, warm and panting with terrified life. He pretends his heart is a hamster wheel, pictures it running round and round and round, feels it curl into a delicate ball in his throat. 

Alex likes the feeling of the hamster, even though sometimes it makes him scared. When the hamster died, his father told him about reincarnation. 

“Sometimes,” Alex’s father said, “animals die. People too. And when that happens, it’s okay to be sad.”

Alex nodded seriously, looking down at the little green shoebox in front of them. His father had said it was where the hamster was going to live from now on, and so he’d written the hamster’s name on it with his best glitter gel pen. It looked awfully small, and a little bit lopsided.

“But some people,” Alex’s father went on, “think that maybe death isn’t all there is. They think that maybe there’s something afterwards.”

“Like Heaven,” Alex said. He poked the shoebox with his foot, and his father gently moved it out of the way.

“Like Heaven,” his father agreed, “or, some people think, a different life. Maybe he’s born again, into a different hamster body.”

Alex’s father was almost right, because the day after the hamster died they got Jamie. But Jamie wasn’t a hamster. He was a tiny human boy.

Jamie wasn’t at all like the hamster. At first, all he did was cry and eat. Alex’s father fed him all sorts of tasty things but all Jamie wanted to eat was Cheerios, picking them one by one out of a bowl with surprisingly careful fingers. He had such little hands, with the tiniest fingernails Alex had ever seen. His father used to paint them, like he always did Alex’s, but Jamie didn’t understand how important it was to sit still and let them dry. Once, Jamie tripped over Alex’s legs and fell against the sofa, leaving a trail of bright pink nail polish down the arm. They don’t paint their nails any more, but Alex still sits there and looks at it sometimes, when the silence is especially loud. 

He’s sitting there this evening, holding the hamster-feeling close to his chest, when his father comes in from the kitchen.

“Take-out again today?” his father asks. Alex nods. His father’s eyes are bright in the dusk. He sits beside Alex on the floor.

The streetlamp outside flicks on without a sound. It sends a beam directly through the big bay window. It falls on the sofa so that the only colour in the room is the splash of pink against the black leather and the gleam of the light reflected in his father’s eyes. 

“I’ll order it in a minute,” Alex’s father says. 

There’s a weight to the air in the wide, still room. The shadows seem to grow, stretching cold tendrils across the carpet, twining around Alex’s ankles and wrists, spiralling towards his neck. He strains against them but the cold is paralytic. He can’t even twitch. He clings to the hamster-warmth and feels the tiny creature stir fluttering weakly against his ribs. His breaths are loud and wet. There is blood leaking from between his ribs. There is blood pouring from his mouth. His face, his cheeks are wet with it.

His father sighs and gets up, cracking his back. “I’ll order Chinese,” he says, and wanders back into the kitchen. Alex shakes the shadows free and stands up too. He follows his father back into the light.

There’s a darkness, sometimes, that seems to fall over the house like the going-out of the stars. It’s in the hollow depth of his father’s eyes, in the moment when the bedroom light turns off. It’s in the black line underneath his brother’s bedroom door.

There’s a darkness that sometimes seems to creep. It’s in the falling of the sun beneath the horizon, in the desperate way that its rays cling to the sky before the gathering dark forces them away. It’s in the way that the shadows press around the streetlamp’s beam, ominously watching, unable to breach its walls. Alex doesn’t cross the landing to get to the bathroom at night any more. It would mean that he would have to pass that terrible dark line beneath Jamie’s door, the darkness that seems to seep out from beneath it and coat Alex’s feet, winding up his legs and squeezing at his throat. The shadows sit upon his shoulders like a cat, effortlessly draped, impossible to dislodge. Its dangling claws dig deep into his lungs and he coughs up bile.

He wakes sometimes to hear his father crying, late at night. The darkness is a coffin lid above him, pressing him into his mattress. He holds on to the hamster and imagines someone writing his name on the ceiling with their best glittery gel pen. He remembers solemnly placing the Jamie-hamster into the ground.

When Alex wakes up in the middle of the night, he listens for the usual sound of his father’s muffled sobs. But the faint rustling he can hear isn’t coming from his father’s room across the landing. Something is moving around in Jamie’s room. 

He lies there for a moment, feeling the ceiling press down upon his chest. There is no other sound in the house, nothing but the pressing darkness and the faint sound, scratching at his ears and burrowing its way into his head. He sits upright, very suddenly, and pads over to his bedroom door before he realises. The door is ajar. Behind it lies the long dark stretch of the corridor.

The darkness is oozing. He falls into it as he steps through the door, leaving not so much as a ripple behind him. The shadows are like tar, clinging to his skin. He can feel the corridor filling, overflowing. The shadows reach to his chest, his neck, and stumbling, gasping, Alex wades through the clinging night, falling with a gasp against Jamie’s bedroom door just a moment before the shadows close over his mouth. They are pouring into his nose, his eyes, his ears; he feels them filling up his lungs. The hamster is sputtering, drowning. The door is open and he is inside.

There is something sitting in the crib. It’s an old crib, wooden and with one short leg that had to be propped up with a book underneath it every night. Alex’s father says that it was his crib when he was a baby, and then Alex’s when he was little, but to Alex it has always been Jamie’s crib, taken down from the attic in a mad scramble to get everything ready the night that he arrived.

“We’re going to be looking after a baby,” Alex’s father told him, voice wafting through the open attic trapdoor. “It’s just for a little bit, just until his parents get well enough to take him. Or until someone else does.”

Alex hadn’t been too interested. But after all the bustle of moving in was done, and the baby put to sleep, he had crept into the room. Jamie was sprawled in the crib, loose-limbed and pudgy, red-faced from crying, in a too-big onesie. He wasn’t exactly a newborn baby but he wasn’t very big at all. He was snuffling slightly in his sleep. Alex couldn’t help but inch closer, extending one finger through the slatted bars of the crib to gently touch the baby’s downy cheek. Crouching beside the crib, feeling the fragile warmth of the baby, the tremendous vitality contained within such a delicate frame, Alex thought about his hamster, sleeping alone in the shoebox under the soil, outside in the night. He fetched his old nightlight from beside his bed, the one he didn’t really need now he was bigger but kind of wanted anyway, and slotted it into place next to Jamie’s crib. He didn’t know why, but it felt important that the Jamie-hamster wasn’t in the dark.

Now, there is something sitting in the crib, and it is dark and cold and it is not Jamie. It is memory-shaped, Jamie-shaped; it looks like Jamie looked on that first night, but Jamie shouldn’t be a little baby any more - he was almost three - he was -

And the Jamie-shape reaches up its arms to Alex, and the shadows reach out too, and there’s a coldness and a deadness in his heart. And it is three weeks ago, and Jamie is limp in his crib, and there are twin trails of blood spilling from his nostrils and over his closed lips, joining on his chin, rivers and rivers and oceans of black blood rising and rising and rising, pouring into Alex’s mouth and choking him when he tries to breathe. He can taste it, brackish blood pouring down his cheeks, filling up his lungs, and the little warm hamster-feeling struggles limply and dies.

And Jamie is gone. Alex watched him go down in his little box, proper wood this time, not just the green Clarks shoebox that Alex’s old school shoes came in. And they hadn’t let him write on it in gel pen, even though he thinks that’s what the hamster would have wanted. And they were only supposed to have Jamie for a few days, and he was always supposed to leave, and so maybe, Alex thought, maybe he was like the hamster. Maybe a few years was all you got. And so he waited and waited for the new Jamie-hamster to come, but it’s been days and days and weeks and now Alex knows, he knows, that the hamster isn’t coming. It has died within his chest, like Jamie, quietly, without a struggle, in the dark.

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys as Bad Dad moments

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou and Numai

**These are ways they “failed” as fathers. I am not talking about ACTUALLY failing as fathers, just things dads have done that most of us either remember/get told about NOT TO BE TAKEN  S E R I O U S L Y  it is just for      f u n  I also gave them all at least 2 kids cause SibLiNgS**

A ‘*’ means it happened to me lol

TW- Mentions of giving too much medicine, accidental pain caused to child, these are things I either experienced/knew people who experienced them, allusion to cursing/a FEW bad words (but I substitute a letter for something else :)

*Akaashi Keiji: 

He had been working in his office when his son had come in.

You had been putting your newborn to sleep for a nap when your son decided he wanted to be with his dad.

His son was only 3, so when Akaashi was held up in his office editing his son, Kenji, would sometimes come in and plop himself in Akaashi’s lap.

His sons small feel padded on the floor while he made his way to his father, softly tugging on his pants as he stuck his arms up.

Akaashi smiled and softly chuckled before gently picking up his son from under his arms and placing him on his lap.

He got to work soon after, reading and revising the pages.

Other than having his son on his lap it wasn’t unusual for him to be drinking coffee while working.

Keep in mind, your son had inherited a lot from Akaashi, and not just his looks or personality.

But also his habits.

Because of this, your son was very fidgety, usually toying with a string or your fingers.

That meant he tended to move around a lot.

Akaashi had just lifted his not-so-cold coffee to his lips when his son had made a sudden movement, causing him to knock his arm and, “AHH” Akaashi’s eyes snapped open as his son started crying, cursing under his breath he stood up gently holding his son in his arms as he carried him to the bathroom.

Sitting him down on the counter he dried the coffee off of his son, luckily it hadn’t been hot enough to burn him, but it was still hot enough to hurt.

“What happened? I heard crying, is he okay?” Akaashi sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, he’s okay, he bumped my arm and I spilled my coffee on him. He’s okay! It didn’t burn him, but it did hurt...” Your frowned as you stood in front of your son, giving him a soft smile before kissing his arm, cause kisses always make it feel better~

You carefully picked him up from the counter, rocking him slowly side to side as he burrowed into your shoulder.

“Are you okay little man~” He nodded as he sniffled into your shoulder, little hands clutching onto the fabric of your t-shirt.

“You know daddy didn’t mean it, it was an accident.” He nodded again, lifting his head to rub his eyes and reach out for his dad.

Akaashi gave a wobbly smile before reaching over to grab him, kissing the top of his head as he carried him back to his office, making sure to have some iced coffee instead.

Washio Tatsuki: 

This would be the first time Washio was left alone with the twins.

5 months ago, you and your husband had had your first children, your adorable fraternal twins Natsuki and Tatsuo.

Today would be the first day you would be away from them, but with your mother being sick and you being the only one available to take care of her you had to go.

You weren’t too worried about your husband, he was already a good dad so you had no doubt they were in good hands.

But it was never an enjoyable experience to have to leave your kids, especially your babies, and for the first time. 

So, you decided to leave early in the morning, give them their good morning kisses and head over to your parents house.

Before you left you changed their diapers, letting them play in their little play pen while your husband tried to get up.

Rubbing his eyes Washio walked into the play room.

He had to go to the gym today for a meeting, fortunately EJP had a really good daycare system in the stadium, so he could leave his kids there while he attended the short meeting.

He stopped in his tracks as his face blanched and he felt his breath stop.

You had changed the twins’ diapers...but you hadn’t dressed them.

The twins were still young, so without looking at their, uh, biological differences you couldn’t tell them apart....

Now, usually when this happened you guys would just check the diapers, but you had just done them..

And he was already running a bit late.

So, he made his best guess, got them dressed (one in pink, the other in blue), fed and in the car driving them to the stadium.

Once he got there he quickly dropped them off, rushing to his meeting.

The meeting had been fairly simple, just some pre-season info he’d need.

After chatting with his coach/teammates, and stopping Suna and Komori from pulling a prank, he made his way back to the daycare.

He walked into the building when one of the younger care takers, Yui, walked up to him, One twin in each arm.

He smiled as he carefully put them into their carriers.

“Uhm, just a question...” He looked up to her and motioned for her to continue.

“...Were you aware that Tatsuo was wearing the dress?” Washio sighed as he ran a hand down his face shaking his head. Yui light heartedly smiled, “Don’t worry, we switched them.” Thanking them, he picked up his babies and went home.

He was not prepared for the way you cackled when he told you what happened.

*Konoha Akinori: 

You had gone away for a business trip, leaving your husband Konoha home with your 3 kids. (You guys have 2 girls and a boy)

Your middlest child, your son Akira, had recently come down with a cold making the poor thing miserable when he tried to sleep.

Being the good dad that he is, he gave his son some benadryl!

The next morning he woke up, and after letting his kids sleep in for a little bit he woke them up too.

...two of them.

He tried several times to get his son to leave his bed, but the little kid couldn’t so much as swing one foot over the side of his bed with out falling asleep again.

He didn’t think too much of it, the kid had a cold after all.

So he let him sleep for another hour or so before making him get up for real.

A day later you got home, and everything was pretty much normal.

Until you went to put your son to bed, and realized he had crashed on the couch.

“...Uhm, Akinori?” Your husband lifted his head at your voice, setting the dishes in the sink and drying his hands with a towel as he made his way over to you. 

“Yeah babe?” You took a look over towards your son before looking back to your husband.

“...Has Akira been like that all weekend?” Konoha ran his hand through his hair as he sighed. “No, only since Saturday. He wasn’t feeling good so I gave him some benadryl, he’s been dead to the world since.” You slowly nodded.

“Uhm, Akinori?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “How much benadryl did you give him?”

He left to grab the box, coming back with it in his hand as he continued to look at it.

He shook his head in confusion. “I gave him the amount the box said, 1 teasp-”- He paused.

Uh oh.

He in fact, had not given his son a teaspoon of benadryl.

He had given him a tablespoon.

*Kita Shinsuke: 

You had to leave early one morning for a doctors appointment; you were pregnant with you and Kita’s second child. 

Usually for these appointments Kita’s grandmother would watch your 3 year old daughter Kyoka.

But she had something to do that morning so Kita was the one responsible for getting her ready for preschool.

Kita was a good father so you weren’t worried.

You knew she would be put together, fed, and on time.

There was just one thing you couldn’t account for.

“Daddy?” Kita looked away from the mirror he was shaving in and down to his daughter, washing away the traces of shaving cream. “Yes sweetheart?”

She held out her small hand, 2 bright pink hair ties with little butterfly charms on them held out in her palm.

“Can you do my piggy tails please?” His eyes widened.

He hadn’t done hair...like...ever.

But from the puppy eyes his little princess was giving him, how could he not do it?!

Plus, it couldn’t be that hard...right? I mean, he had watched you do it plenty of times, and it was pretty straight forward.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed he had her stand on the ground in front of him.

He grabbed her brush and put the two hair ties she had given him on his wrist.

He brushed her hair and parted it as evenly as he could, trying to be gentle in the process.

Now time for the pig tails..

He pulled her hair back, trying to make it tight to it would stay.

...But he might have made it a little too tight.

He turned her around and realized he had made them way too tight.

Not only did her hair look like he had slicked it back with x4 strength hair gel, but it was so tight that her eyebrows had been stuck way up on her forehead.

He was quick to turn her back around, loosening the hair ties so she looks like a 3 year old again.

His face turned undeniably red as he told you what happened later that night, you light heartedly laughing at his misfortune.

Suna Rintaro: 

Suna had just gotten out of practice, and now he was on the way to his kids school. 

You and Suna had 4 kids, 2 boys and 2 girls. 

The youngest 2 had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day, which you had taken them too. Meaning Suna needed to pick the older 2 up from elementary school.

He had been listening to music, his music to be specific.

He had pulled into the parking lot, changing the playlist to a kid friendly one right before his children got in the car.

After they had told him about their days, and he had told about his, he switched back on the music.

It had been fine for a song.

Until he realized that he had a few songs qued.

The fun little song had just ended when the bass dropped, the color draining from his face as soon as the song started.

The mentioned song being “Big Bank” by YG, 2 Chainz, Big Sean and Nicki Minaj of course~.

He was quick to turn the radio off, waiting until he could pull over, empty the que, and turn on kid friendly music.

He told the kids to ‘forget what they heard’ and he continued on his drive home.

Now, you’ve got to remember, his daughter is in kindergarten and his son is in 2nd grade, so they’re still kind of at that “monkey see, monkey do” age range.

Or rather, “monkey hear, monkey repeat.”

He thought it was gonna be okay, they were good kids so he figured telling them to forget they even heard it, they would let it go.

There was just one thing about his children that he didn’t account for.

As obedient and well behaved as his children were, they were also very curious.

That night at dinner they had all been sat down at the table, eating dinner and talking about their days. 

You had been feeding your infant son while Suna had been watching the 3 year old, the other 2 older children happily eating their food. Until...

“Hey mommy?” You looked at your daughter with a smile, “Yes baby?” She continued to eat her dinner, “What’s a b!tch?” Your eyes widened as your husband choked on his food, your baby laughing at the scene before him.

Hitting his chest and taking a sip of water Suna tried to catch his breath.

“Nezuko we don’t say that, where did you hear that?!” She tilted her head as she looked at you confused before turning to look at Suna, pointing a small finger at him.

“It was on the radio, daddy told us to ‘forget’ but I didn’t know what it meant...What does it mean?” You sent a glare towards your husband as you sighed.

After explaining to your daughter why it was bad to say those things and not to repeat everything she heard you cleaned up your kids and put them to bed.

...You had quite the conversation with your husband later that night.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Ushijima had been on grocery duty this week since you had a meeting with a friend.

He had the Friday off, and since you weren’t home he took the kids with him.

Now, I would like you to know that you guys have 6 kids. S I X.

Growing up with no siblings and divorced parents, Ushijima wanted to make sure none of his kids were lonely.

Originally you guys had two, each kid had a buddy.

...but then you had a third, and you couldn’t just leave him alone...

so you had another...then another...

And now you guys have 6. But it’s okay cause you both love kids anyway~

He was doing his best, he truly was. He had his 2 youngest sitting in the little seat by the handle bar, 2 kids in the basket, 1 hanging onto the side and the oldest walking alongside him.

When they got to check out he had to take one of the kids out of the basket, so he opted for his 3rd oldest, his son Kazue, figuring he was older so it’d be a-okay.

He checked out his extensive amount of groceries before loading them up into his car, and his kids.

He pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and got on the road, his kids singing along to the radio and chatting amongst themselves.

They had been driving for 6 minutes when his oldest child, Ren, spoke up. “Uh, dad?” He hummed, briefly checking the rear view mirror before returning his gaze to the road. “When are we going back to get Kazue?” His face lost all color as his eyes widened.

As swiftly and safely as he could he pulled over to the side of the road, whipping around in his seat to take a head count. ‘1..2..3..4..5...oh sh-’ Turning back around he got back onto the road, taking the nearest u-turn and rushing back to the store. 

Unbuckling his kids from their carseats he hurried them back into the store, his oldest holding the 2nd borns hand, as he held all 3 of the younger ones in his arms.

He frantically entered the store, almost collapsing with relief when he saw his son sat at the customer service desk with the security guard, eating a lollipop before smiling when he saw his dad come to pick him up.

After giving proof that yes, he was his father, he took all of his kids back home after getting them some ice cream.

...this would be one conversation he was not excited to have with you....

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Yahaba and his 2 sons had been hanging out in the living room while you finished making some snacks in the kitchen.

Yahaba had been trying to set up a DVD player, you guys were going to watch some home-videos from your high school days but they were all on CD.

So, after borrowing one from his parents house, he set out to hook it up to the TV.

...Which was proving much more difficult then he first anticipated.

His two boys, Itsuki (6) and Hayato (8) were in there with him, ‘helping’ as they had called it.

Yahaba groaned as he sat back, a hand ruffling through his hair as he racked his brain to think of the problem.

You had finished preparing everything so you came in, with the food, and set it down on the coffee table.

You came up behind your husband, kneeling down behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

“How’s it going?” He sighed, leaning back into you.

“Well, I think I know what I need to do, I’m going to have to stick my hand back there though. Hey Hayato, can you help me out buddy?” The 8 year old excitedly nodded.

“Great, I need you to hold this flashlight here, hold it steady okay?” Hayato nodded with a ‘Yup!’ before Yahaba laid down on his side, maneuvering to where he could see the back of the TV.

All had been going well, he had just got it hooked up, and after having you test it, it worked!

He tried to get himself out from behind the TV, until a sharp edge caught his finger.

“Sh!t!” Your eyes widened, “Shigeru!” He hadn’t realized his slip up until he was out from behind the TV, faced directly with your glare.

“Kids, don’t say that.” His youngest blinked at him. “But why?”.

Kneeling down in front of him Yahaba tried to explain, but it was a little hard when you were glaring holes into the back of his head and his oldest was giggling at the situation.

*Iwaizumi Hajime: 

It was a weekend in summer vacation, and you and your husband were both off work.

This meant, you guys got a whole day to spend with your 3 boys, and one of the things you guys loved to do as a family was play games.

On this particular afternoon, your sons had chosen to play twister.

You were a little skeptical because you had 3 competitive, rambunctious boys. 

And an equally competitive rambunctious husband.

But after getting 4 identical pouts you couldn’t say no...

But, you elected to be the spinner. (..for your own safety)

“Left hand, green.” This put your middlest son in quite the predicament.

The only space available was the Green directly by his fathers hand, meaning he’d have to crawl under Iwaizumi.

“Okay Hajime, right hand, yellow.” Iwaizumi grimaced as he tried to reach it.

 This wasn’t good, the mat was slick, his hands were sweating-

“oOf” Before he could catch himself he had completely lost his balance, landing right on his son.

You gasped in horror as you saw the life get squeezed out of your 5 year old, scrambling from where you sat to check on your now pancaked son.

“...Hiro..are you okay..?” 

His small head shot up with a “I’m okay!” Before he, albeit wearily, stood up brushing off his godzilla t-shirt before continuing on with his life.

You took a deep breath as you sat back down, flashing a warning look towards your husband who sheepishly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

And after checking that yes, your son really was okay, you guys continued on with some...safer games.

Futakuchi Kenji: 

You had left for a weekend visit to see your parents in your hometown, leaving your husband and Your 3 girls alone.

It was a friday night, so after having a less than healthy dinner, ice cream and a fair amount of other sweets, Futakuchi figured a movie before bed would be a good way to finish off the night.

He scrolled through netflix trying to find a movie he could watch with his girls.

“Daddy, can we watch snow white?!” Futakuchi looked down at his oldest, Hayami, before he shrugged. “Sure.”

He may be a guy, but he was not above watching princess movies if it meant his babies were happy. Besides, it was a disney movie, what bad could be in it!

Everything was going swell, until the witch showed up.

He felt the sick feeling of dread in his stomach as soon as he felt his middlest curl in tight to his side, his youngest hopping off of the couch and climbing into his lap.

...Disney SHOULD have been a safe bet, but with the way his 3 girls were clinging onto him for dear life, he probably should have previewed it first..

That night he put them to bed, reading them a quick story before giving them each a kiss on their forehead and tucking them into bed. 

15 minutes.

15 minutes of almost sleep when he heard you guys’ bedroom door creak open, 3 sets of little feet pad over to his side of the bed.

“...daddy..?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he opened them, brown eyes meeting the teary ones of his 3 children as they stood there. Speaking in as soft of a voice as he could he tried not to sound as tired as he knew he was.

“What is it munchkin?” His daughters all fidgeted where they stood, fiddling with the hems of their princess night gowns as they stood there.

“...We’re scared...can we sleep with you..?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get them to sleep like you could, and being incredibly tired himself he moved to the side, opening the covers and making room for all 3 of his princesses.

...This was going to be a long night for him.. 

Daishou Suguru: 

Daishou had been playing outside with his kids, his 2 year old son Kento and his 5 year old daughter Shizuko.

His son was sat on his shoulders, one of Daishou’s hands wrapped firmly around the boys ankles while the other pushed his daughter on the swing.

You had been inside getting dinner ready while they had been outside; smiling fondly at the smiles that were plastered on their faces.

When dinner had finished you walked to the sliding glass door, opening it and calling to them. “Dinners ready! Come inside and wash up so we can eat.” Your daughter and husband replied with ‘okay!’ as you went back to get plates. 

Slowing down the swing Daishou brought it to a stop so Skizuko could safely get off.

In all honesty, he was a good dad.

He was very mindful of his children and their surroundings, so they didn’t get hurt too often.

He was also very careful not to accidentally hurt them.

But accidents happen.

Walking to the back door, he, somehow either forgot or the thought didn’t register in his mind that his son was still perched on his shoulders.

He didn’t remember until a loud *whack!* was heard, and his sons cries sounded above him.

..He had tried going inside, through the door, with his son on his shoulders.

Bringing him down from his shoulders he quickly brought him inside to set him down on the counter, you almost screaming when you saw the bruise forming on his little forehead.

“Ah-wha-how- SUGURU! What happened?!”

Groaning Daishou gently put a small ice pack on his sons head, “...He whacked his head on the door frame...” You looked at him, “And how did he do that?”

Daishou sighed as he looked down, grimacing at the purple mark already present on his sons head.

...For the next few nights the couch became a good friend of his.

Numai Kazuma: 

Today was your son, Kazuya’s birthday. Today he would be turning 1.

Kazuya was the first, and so far only child you had with your husband of 3 years Kazuma Numai.

You and Numai were still learning how to be parents, and it had been an interesting journey to say the least, but you guys were doing good!

Your relatives and friends had just left, leaving you, Kazuma and your son.

It was pretty late so you started cleaning up in the kitchen and Numai started in the living room.

Kazuya had been pretty fussy, you both figuring he was tired, but when you tried to put him to sleep he wouldn’t even close his eyes.

So, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way Numai held Kazuya as he was cleaning.

Things had been going just fine before Kazuya had reached out to grab at something on a nearby book shelf, causing the book shelf to start tipping over.

At that moment the only thing going through Numai’s mind was ‘stop the book shelf’, because at the moment, getting his son and him crushed by a bookshelf seemed like a very bad thing.

But what he hadn’t thought of was the fact that reflexively he had used both of his arms to stop said shelf (which didn’t even fall), the same two arms that had been holding his- “WAAAHH”

His eyes snapped down to the BABY he had just let go of, now crying on the floor.

You rushed into the living room, seeing your husband now cradling your still crying son, whispering apologies into his hair as he kissed the top of his head.

“Kazuma what happened?” 

He avoided eye contact. 

“...Kazuma...” Looking down he spoke.

“...I dropped him...”

...

“...you what?”

[remakethestars]

CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞ 

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny. 

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers. 

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred. 

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research! 

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels. 

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[jackrrabbit]

practice makes perfect /// Mitsuri x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Hey! I read your Shinobu NSFW thing. I was wondering if you could write a Mitsuri NSFW thing but not as intense? Like Mitsuri and her female S/o are cuddling and things get a really steamy so they start kissing and fingering each other? Please and thank you!

A/N: REPOSTING because when I posted this a few hours ago it was glitching and not showing up in tags and stuff :( sorry to anyone who has already seen it!

I love Mitsuri and I get so few f/f reqs so ty for the request 💕 Y’all know idk how to write true vanilla so this is a little more spicy (Mitsuri and reader are not in an established relationship), but I made it soft just for you anon

Summary: When the most popular girl in school offers to help you practice kissing, it’s not like you’re going to say no.

Tags/warnings: inexperienced reader, femme preppy Mitsuri, she’s a little soft dom? like just a tiny bit, mild orgasm control, fluffy smut, crushes, modern high school AU, heteronormativity, reader thinks she’s straight lmao, all characters are adults

Okay, Mitsuri isn’t just the queen bee of your school. She’s also the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be that beautiful, much less fair—what was god thinking when he gave her that pink and green hair that would look clownish on anyone but her? Those thick, dark eyelashes framing eyes you feel like you could drown in? Those long, perfect legs?

(Not that you stare at her legs or something. It’s just—your school uniform skirts are kind of short, and she always wears those striped thigh-highs, and she sits next to you in senior Biology and sometimes she stretches her legs out in the aisle between your desks and flexes them while she sighs during long lectures, and seriously, her legs are perfect.)

Mitsuri is the kind of girl who gets asked out by a different guy every other day. She has a fan club. Boys write Mr. _____ Kanroji in their notebooks, circle it with hearts, and fantasize about marrying her. She has more ex-boyfriends than you have Facebook friends. So you’re really sure why, somehow, you two have become…close?

If you have to, you can trace your friendship back to that Biology class. The teacher has a bad habit of cold-calling students for answers to questions, which makes him pretty unpopular. You’ve gotten used to it over the months, deciding that rebelling is a less productive method of dealing with it than just making sure to review the textbook chapters at least twice before every class, but apparently Mitsuri isn’t quite as familiar with the material.

When the teacher calls on her (a bit vindictively, you think, probably because she’s chewing pink bubblegum and drawing cherry blossoms in the composition book she’s supposed to be taking notes in) to ask her something about determining whether an organism’s life cycle exhibits zygotic, gametic, or sporic meiosis, she just gapes blankly back at him.

You feel sorry for her. It’s always painful to watch when someone can’t answer a question in class—you might be a fairly good student, but you still sympathize with how embarrassing it is to be put on the spot like that. The teacher refuses to move on, repeating her name and prodding her until her face is flushed bright pink and her lower lip is trembling. You’re not trying to pity her, but you can’t help it, and before you can think better of it you’re writing ‘compare diploid and haploid forms’ in the corner of your notebook and surreptitiously sliding it her way.

After the class, she pulls you aside in the hallway to thank you, eyes bright, telling you you’re so smart and kind and thoughtful and wondering how come she’s never talked to you before. “What a waste! We sat next to each other all semester, and I’m only getting to know you now.”

No wonder she’s popular. Her exuberance is infectious, like her good mood is seeping into your skin from her hand wrapped around yours. Mitsuri isn’t just pretty, she’s the kind of person who makes you feel good about herself just by being near her.

You’re about 100% sure that’s the last time the two of you will talk (unless she needs help with Bio homework and decides you’re the best candidate to get answers from). But it’s not. Mitsuri insists on treating you to boba after class—you try to deny her but she refuses to hear it and you can’t say no to her when she looks at you with those pretty jade-chip eyes. You get milk tea with black tapioca pearls swimming in caramelized fried sugar; her drink is jasmine rose fruit tea with tiny cubes of green apple floating at the top. “It looks like your hair,” you tell her, motioning toward the pink-and-green drink.

“Really?” Mitsuri’s cheeks turn red, which you notice is a frequent occurrence for her. “That’s why I got it. Isn’t it cute? I love how pretty all of the drinks are at this teahouse.”

The two of you split a little matcha cake. And then a vanilla taro cake. And then Mitsuri orders sweet potato fries and gyoza and fried chicken and shrimp tempura and wow, this girl can eat. “I kind of have a big appetite,” she tells you shyly some time around her fourth order of hanami dango. “Sorry, is it weird?”

“Not at all! It’s cute,” you blurt out, and then immediately cover your mouth. Cute? Where did that come from? That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to be saying to a girl you barely even know, or is it? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Mitsuri is so beautiful it’s hard to think straight around her.

You’re so busy staring down at your lap and blushing that you don’t notice she’s doing the same thing.

Mitsuri seems to take that teashop date hangout as permission to pursue a full-fledged friendship with you. Before you know it, she’s inviting herself over to your house after school, dragging you to cafés and picnics to study together on the weekends, and begging you to sit with her at lunch. Her other friends don’t seem thrilled at your being her favorite new playmate, but she doesn’t mind it so you try not to, either.

Like right now. It’s a weekend, and she’s decided that her house is going to be the setting for an overnight Bio study session slash sleepover in anticipation of the test you have coming up. You’re scouring the textbook for an answer at her desk while Mitsuri lies on her stomach on her bed with her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Graded quizzes are spread out in an arc around her on the cotton candy-colored duvet, and the sparkly gel pen she’s using to write flash cards is poking out of the corner of her mouth. With her fair skin barely covered by a tank top and shorts, loose hair flowing over her back, and dark brows furrowed in concentration, she looks like the centerfold of a teen magazine from the 90s.

I bet guys have wet dreams about her, you think. Then you shut down that line of thinking, shut it all the way down because you’re not supposed to be thinking these things about a female friend, no matter how pretty she is or how glossy her lips look even though she’s just wearing chapstick or how good she smells (like strawberries? honey? or whatever sweet she ate last, you’re not sure). But you can’t quite tamp down the feeling that you’ve stumbled on some unbelievable luck to get close to her.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing on your studies. “I’m done with this!” Mitsuri exclaims, throwing down her pen so it makes a stray line on the quiz she was reviewing before it bounces off the bed. “I’m so tired of studying, aren’t you? If I learn another thing about cell division my brain is going to explode. Can’t we take a break?”

“Sure, if you want to get another 43%. Didn’t your dad say he’s going to stop paying your snack food fund if you fail one more exam?”

Her pink mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s not fair, I didn’t tell you that to use it against me. Be nice.”

But after a second, Mitsuri’s pout turns into a giggle. She hooks her foot around the stem of the office chair you’re sitting in and pulls it toward the bed along with you. “Come on! Let’s talk about love. Do you have a crush?”

You roll your eyes but relent, sliding off the chair and onto the big, fluffy bed next to Mitsuri. You can always get back to reviewing after you take a short break, right? She gathers up the quizzes and notecards and dumps them unceremoniously on the nightstand by her bed to make space for you, all too eager to stop thinking about Bio.

“I don’t have a crush,” you tell her.

“Really? There’s no one you think is cute? No one you want to get to know a little better?”

Well…if that’s what she means… You glance sideways at her. There’s definitely someone you think is cute who you want to get to know better. She doesn’t have to know it’s her—not that you have a crush on her; that would be ridiculous.

If she’s going to get that excited about your potential crush, how are you supposed to tell her you don’t have one? You’ll just have to pretend, for her sake. “I guess there’s someone. I wouldn’t call it love, but…”

Long black lashes flutter up at you as Mitsuri blinks. “Oh my gosh, who is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you say quickly.

“Aww, but I wanna know who you have a crush on!” She scooches closer to you and pokes you gently in the side. “Do I know him? Is he a senior? What does he look like? What do you like about him?”

“Um yeah, you know…him. He’s a senior but you’ll never—seriously never guess who it is, so don’t even try. He’s…really good-looking, I don’t know. He has nice hair…and, um, nice legs. And he…” you trail off, wondering what you can say about your secret ‘crush’ that won’t tip Mitsuri off that you’re talking about her.

“…I like him. He talks a lot but you can tell he cares about what you’re saying when he’s listening to you. He’s kind of dreamy and self-conscious about dumb things but it just makes me like him more.”

Was that too much? Mitsuri is looking into your eyes in pure rapture, holding onto every word you say. Are you being obvious? But—no way. She’s so loved by guys that she’d never even suspect that a girl could like her too.

Not that you like her. Not like that, at least.

After a moment when you feel your heart beating so deeply that you’re sure she can hear it too, she smiles sweetly and pinches your cheek. “You’re really pretty when you’re talking about your crush, (Y/N). You look like a maiden.”

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. If any other girl as beautiful as Mitsuri called you pretty, you’d think they were being insincere, but she’s not like that. Her genuine affection shines through in everything she does. If you’re pretty, she’s Helen of Troy.

“What do you mean, ‘a maiden’?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuri says, tracing invisible hearts into her bedspread with a fingertip. “You just look…innocent somehow? Like this is your first love.”

You duck down, blushing.

“Wait, really?” She sits up and easily flips you over onto your back (sometimes you forget that a decade of cheerleading has made her at least a dozen times as strong as you are) so she can blink brightly at you. “This is your first love? Ooh…”

“Is that so weird?” you ask a little defensively. “I don’t get a lot of crushes.”

“No, it’s not weird! It’s cute,” Mitsuri says. “But aren’t you nervous? What if you fall in love with him and you guys start dating and you don’t know how to do anything?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Like, kissing and stuff. Aren’t you worried that you’ll have your first kiss with him and he’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, you can’t even kiss, I don’t like you anymore’.”

“No one would say that,” you reply, but the scenario does strike a pang of anxiousness in your heart. You’ve always been too focused on school and friends and family to bother worrying about love, but the truth is you have worried about the fact that you’re soon going to be a high school graduate who has never so much as kissed another person on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Mitsuri sighs. “Boys are so mean. But I can’t believe you haven’t had your first kiss!”

“That’s rude,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

She flaps her hands in the air frantically. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that! Sorry! I just meant I can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend when you’re so pretty and nice. The boy who locks you down is going to feel super lucky that he gets to take all of your firsts.”

You sit up next to Mitsuri and lean back on her cushioned headboard. “I don’t care about that. Honestly, I’d rather have some practice before I get involved with anyone.”

A beat passes. Then— “Really? You want practice?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess? But it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and tell him to let me practice kissing.”

Mitsuri cocks her head to the side and long pink fringe falls away from her face. “You don’t need to do that. Just practice with me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” What, is she going to give you tips on tongue technique or something?

“…Like this,” Mitsuri says softly—and then her delicate hand is stroking up the side of your jaw and carding into your hair, tilting your head to face hers and pulling you closer. She hesitates before she makes contact, looking in your eyes as if to confirm are you okay with this? But (maybe because you’re caught off guard, maybe because you think you do need the practice, or maybe because that angelic strawberry-honey smell is way too intoxicating up close) you don’t stop her, and she leans in and completes the kiss.

It’s soft. Smells sweet. Tastes sweeter.

Mitsuri’s lips are velvety and glossy-damp moving against yours. The scent you thought was honey is really honeysuckle—there’s a fresh floral quality to the taste as her lip balm is transferred from her mouth to yours.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time she lifts back from you your lips are tingling. You cover your mouth with your hand like a damsel from a Victorian-era novel and stare wide-eyed at her.

“How was that? Your first kiss?”

“I—um, I liked it I think?”

Mitsuri smiles at you and it’s like a ray of sunlight falling down through a break in the clouds. “Yay! I’m glad.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and you wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Go back to studying? You’re not sure you’re capable of that when you feel like she’s…still kissing you. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that this is your first kiss—something special, something you’ll never forget. The feeling of Mitsuri kissing you is going to be written on your heart for the rest of your life.

What have I done? you think, but it’s not condemnatory. It’s a question, maybe neutral, maybe hopeful.

“Come on, come here,” Mitsuri says. “You need a little more practice.”

And then she’s kissing you again, all the while pulling you closer, closer, into her lap. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur to you to open your mouth. When you do, her tongue slips in, prodding gently between your lips and sliding up against yours. It’s a weird feeling—you can’t say with certainty that it feels good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It feels like something you could get used to.

This kiss is longer and deeper, and Mitsuri is sighing into the place where your lips meet. The kissing sounds are both embarrassing and thrilling. You can hardly believe that you’re actually doing this, kissing Mitsuri Kanroji in her bedroom and sitting in her lap with your thighs hovering over hers because you’re scared to let yourself press any deeper into her.

By the fourth kiss, you think you’re getting the hang of this. Your fingers are laced in Mitsuri’s hair, pulling her bangs out of the way so you can see her face clearly. Her eyes are hazy and intense, a warm glow suffusing her cheeks, and her lips are reddened. The feeling of not knowing whether you like having her tongue in your mouth or not is gone. You like it. You want more of it. You could do this all day.

…But apparently Mitsuri has something else in mind. She moves back and looks at you like she’s got a secret she’s dying to tell you. Her hands slide up your thighs, almost reaching the hem of the skirt you’re wearing—it’s knee-length, comfortable and practical for the weather—but with your legs spread over hers, the fabric is bunched up at the juncture of your hips and legs, exposing your thighs to view. Mitsuri’s fingernails (manicured, short blunt French tips, pale pink with stripes of gold near the nail bed) scratch painlessly into your skin. “You learn really fast, (Y/N).”

“Thanks…” you pant out.

“Can I do a little more? Just a little. ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done this yourself—”

Oh. Oh? Mitsuri’s hand is creeping up under your skirt.

“—but it’s really good to have some experience with this, too, before you do anything with boys.”

She’s touching your pussy through your underwear. Those pretty manicured hands are stroking you through the fabric, fingertips sliding up between your lips with practiced precision. Oh god, can she feel how wet you are? You’ve felt that dewy heat growing at your core for a while, but you didn’t think she would touch you and feel it. “Mitsuri?”

“Are you already wet?” Two soft fingers pet your clit, moving over it side to side through your panties. “Did you get wet for me?”

“Mm—mm—Mitsuri…”

“Can I touch?” She pops her chin up and kisses you on the cheek, and then again on the other cheek, the side of your mouth, your forehead, all the while rubbing your pussy.

On the sixth teasing little kiss, you gasp and kiss her fully on the lips. “…okay?”

“Good…” Mitsuri smoothly pushes your ass up so she can hook fingers under the waistband of your panties and tug them down past your hips. You shift and let her do it—it feels like her touch is too hot, sending trails of warmth over every place where your skin meets. Her touch lingers even as you awkwardly straighten out of her lap for just as long as it takes to remove your panties and deposit them gracelessly on the floor.

Are you doing this right? Even with your shirt and skirt on, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been in front of another person. You’ve never done anything remotely like this before—how weird is it that the first person to touch you is going to be a female friend? That you’re not doing this for the right reasons (and what are the ‘right reasons’? love? intimacy? desire?), but for practice?

Mitsuri settles you back onto her lap and slowly drags your shirt up over your bra. When the undergarment is exposed, she bites her bottom lip and sucks in a breath, and you feel eternally grateful that you, by some coincidence or trick of fate, decided to wear one of your nicer bras today. She cups the side of your breasts and runs her thumbs over the lacy wine-red fabric. “Beautiful…you’re so sexy, (Y/N). I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

Your cheeks feel hot. Maybe desire is part of the equation after all.

Leaving your shirt bunched up over your tits, Mitsuri returns to your pussy, petting over your thighs and stroking up your mound. Her index finger dabs into the wetness leaking out of you and then circles around your clit.

Around your clit, not on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s deliberately not touching the place where you want— need to be touched. Her fingers are light and fluttery, not forceful in the least but making you crave more anyway. You try not to let your hips move, but before long you’re twitching on her fingers, trying to get her to do what you want. Your hands are braced uselessly on the headboard, but you hesitantly pick up your right hand to replace hers and touch your clit properly.

She isn’t having it. Her free hand catches yours before you can do anything. “Arms around my neck,” she tells you.

It’s frustrating to be unable to touch yourself when she just keeps building and building with these little flutters, but you trust her. Mitsuri’s a lot more experienced than you are. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her neck and wind your fingers into her loose hair.

Whatever she’s doing, though, it’s working. Even if you couldn’t feel how wet you are, you’d be able to hear it, the slick sucking sounds of your cunt dampened with your arousal. You’d be humiliated by the way it’s so obvious that you’re turned on if you were cable of thinking straight. Besides, Mitsuri doesn’t mind—at least not judging by the way she’s looking at you.

“Mitsuri…Mitsuri, can you…” You don’t know how to ask her, but you need more.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Two fingers brush over your clit again and you almost flinch, the light contact sending a spark directly through you. “Tell me what you do when you do this by yourself.”

“I…um…it’s embarrassing…”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Mitsuri lays a short peck on your cheek. “Do you know how pretty you look? I could fall in love with you right now.”

It’s not serious. It’s just the kind of thing Mitsuri says without thinking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Touch—a little harder…”

“Where?”

“You know where!” you tell Mitsuri, with as much bite as you can muster.

Mitsuri smiles. “Here?” She pushes a finger into your pussy and you whimper. “Or…here?”

And she’s touching your clit, rubbing over it quickly and franticly, the first direct contact you’ve had since she started. The muscles in your back tense, legs stiffening, toes curling in your fluffy white socks. “Oh— oh, oh, oh— Mitsuri…”

“Does that feel good?”

After all her teasing, it feels more than good. It’s like you’re being filled up with something, some kind of heat that her fingers are bringing out in you, and it’s about to tip over and spill out. You rock your cunt against her fingers, trying to get her to go harder—but she’s already rubbing against you so quickly that you can’t think straight.

Two fingers slip deeper into your pussy, spreading you apart and pumping your slick cunt while her palm provides sloppy stimulation to your clit. You mewl and fall forward onto her, head thrown over her shoulder, so you can feel the vibration of her soft laughter in your chest. “Do you like it? I can tell…you know, your insides are holding me really tight….”

How does she say such dirty things with that pretty mouth? You’d tell her off if you thought you could speak without moaning. “Unff…mmm…”

“I’m going to make you cum, baby,” Mitsuri hums. “You’re going to cum on my fingers, okay?”

She’s right. You’re about to tip over that edge, overflow, get off with Mitsuri fucking you with two fingers twisting and hitting your g-spot and sliding over you so deliciously that you don’t even care that all of this is wrong. “I’m— I’m cumming—“

“Uh-uh.” Mitsuri’s hand stops, still touching but no longer moving, and the heat in your pussy plateaus and then dips.

You’re so frustrated you want to scream. “Mitsuri…!”

“Can you do something for me?” She resumes the teasing movements from before, edging over your clit but not finishing it. “Tell me who you really like.”

“What?”

“I know you like me.” Her free hand, around your waist, slides up and presses her thumb into the divot between two vertebrae in your spine. “When you were talking about your crush, I know it’s me. Tell me you like me.”

“I—I don’t—“

“No, you do. You like me. Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum. You want to cum, don’t you? You need it? I’m going to give you what you need, so tell me you like me…”

It’s not like she’s being cruel. Mitsuri’s tone is as sweet and kind and caring as ever. Her pace is agonizingly slow and she’s right, you need it. You’re lucky your chin is resting on her shoulder because you wouldn’t be able to stand it if she saw the look on your face as you choke out, “I like…I like you, Mitsuri! I like you!”

“I like you too, (Y/N),” Mitsuri gasps, and then her fingers are moving again, rubbing your clit, making you crazy, and it’s only a second but you want it so bad that you only need a second before you— you’re— you’re falling apart—

“Mitsuri!”

Oh god. Oh god. It feels good, it feels crazy. You can’t think. You can feel the muscles in your pussy squeezing down intermittently on her fingers. She holds you still as the shocks race up through you, letting you twitch and convulse in her arms.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mitsuri sings in your ear.

It takes you a long moment to get the strength to sit up, flopping bonelessly backward on her thighs so you can look her in the eye. “I don’t know,” you sigh finally. “Wasn’t exactly easy.”

Her eyes close when she smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You just need a little more practice.”

[arcane-apathy]

Part 2 

Previous | Next (NSFW) 

AN: Part 2 of this mini-series. I don’t know if y’all can tell, but Albuquerque is on my bucket list of places I want to go to. As a heads up, the next part will include smut, so if that isn’t your thing be warned. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this one! 😁

Warning(s): N/A

  Your nerves were high all day long, constantly tapping your pen on your clipboard. Your coworkers thought it was the funniest thing they’ve ever seen, gently teasing you about the upcoming date. And you couldn’t wait for this work day to be over. All you wanted to do was go straight home and shower. You stood at the nurses station, finishing your notes from your last patient when one of the RNs approaches you. “So, rumor has it that you have a hot date tonight?” 

  A heavy sigh escapes your lips, “yes Maria, you heard correctly.” 

  The older woman smiles and claps her hands like an excited child, “oh how exciting. Tell me about him?” 

You look at her, debating it in your mind. But, you know she wouldn’t leave you alone until you tell her something. “His name is Santiago, he’s a Naga, we’ve ran into each other a couple times, and he asked me out in a Target.” 

  Maria laughs, “he asked you out in a Target?” 

  “Yeah… He took his opportunity.” 

  “Well, is he cute?” 

  You roll your eyes, “yes Maria, because that’s important.”

  She shrugs as she walks away, “it helps.” You snicker to yourself as you return to your notes. Although you weren’t really focusing on them, you couldn't help as your mind wandered. The stress of having to get ready was already weighing on your mind. Once the notes were finished you let out a sigh of relief, all you needed to do now was mundane tasks until you could clock out. As you left to clock out you couldn’t help but laugh as the other nurses teased you, practically begging for juicy details tomorrow. 

  The ride home was uneventful, which you were thankful for. The more time you had to get ready the better. As soon as you got home you threw off your scrubs, got in the shower, and scrubbed like you'd never showered before. Once out of the shower you slathered on the lotion and aftershave cream. Luckily you picked out your outfit the night before. You even made sure it had just the right necklace. And it felt like you fussed in the mirror for an eternity before you were satisfied with how you looked. 

  By the time you drove up to the Old Town area of Albuquerque your nerves were high. You parked in a paid public parking lot, just like Santiago told you to. When you exited the parking lot you immediately heard a particular Naga calling your name. A blush crawls onto your cheek as he slithers towards you with a pink lily in his hand, “hola.”  Santiago stops in front of you and looks you up and down, holding the flower loosely in his hand, “te ves bonita.” He clears his throat nervously, “sorry, I just got off the phone with my mother, and I was still in Spanish mode.” 

  “It's fine… Te ves hermoso,” you smile as you take your turn to scan him. His hair slicked back, but he luckily used the proportionate amount of hair gel. He wore a teal button up, the color going beautifully with his skin tone, and a black blazer. The shirt was long and designed with Nagas in mind, the perfect length to cover their more private areas. 

  “You speak Spanish?” 

  “A little, I took it back in middle school. And once I moved out here I realized I should have paid more attention,” you chuckle and your eyes land on the flower again. 

  His eyes follow yours and he smiles sheepishly, “oh right, I should’ve given this to you already.” You smile and watch as he breaks the stem, then tucks it into your hair besides your ear. Your cheeks immediately flush again as his fingers brushed against your ear. “My mother was a florist, so if I didn’t bring a flower she would’ve been disappointed.” 

  “I’ve never had anyone give me a flower before, it’s very pretty,” your fingers ghost along the petals. 

  "You deserve it… Shall we go," he offers his arm with a timid smile.  

  "We shall," you tuck your hand in the crook of his arm as you walk beside him. The two of you make pleasant small talk as he shows you around the Old Town. His posture became more relaxed the more and more you guys talked. By the time you reached the restaurant the both of you were more confident, cracking jokes and lightly poking fun at each other. But you didn’t seem to see the new glimmer in his eyes whenever you smiled. 

  Dinner was wonderful to say the least. Conversation between the two of you flowed freely. You learned that Santiago was the youngest of three, and the only boy in his family. He was raised by a single mother and his grandparents. And that his mother’s profession as a florist is what inspired his love for nature and the outdoors. “I wanted to get a job that let me be outdoors all day. So, now I’m a park ranger at Cibola National Forest.” 

  “That sounds more interesting than nursing,” you sip your drink as you watch him curiously. “What do you do as a park ranger?” 

  “Mostly park safety, helping lost tourists, scaring rattlesnakes off the trails.” 

  “Scaring rattlesnakes,” you raise an inquisitive brow. 

  “Yes, I go up and down the trails and keep an eye out for them,” he sips his beer. “If I rattle my tail they usually go away because I’m massive compared to them. And if they bite me nothing happens because of my natural immunity. Not saying that it won’t hurt though.” 

  “It hurts even when a non-venomous snake bites you, and if they don’t get treated properly they can lead to nasty infections. Which hurt more.” 

  “Most Naga tend to have stronger immune systems than humans, even then I still clean it and make sure it’s bandaged.” The waiter stops at your table, clearing your empty plates off of the table. You were surprised when he refused dessert before you could say anything, watching Santiago skeptically. “Don’t worry cariño, I know just the place for dessert.” 

  You blush a little at the nickname, “I suppose you would know better than I.” The two of you split the bill, although it took some arguing on your side. 

  “Alright I’ll allow it,  but I will pay for dessert.” 

  You roll your eyes at his old fashioned ways, “you’ll allow it?” 

  “Yes… As long as we don’t tell my mother we split it. I try to avoid every lecture I can.” 

  You laugh as you get up from the table, taking his arm again, “I suppose I can keep a secret. Your mother sounds wonderful.” 

  “She is, but so are you,” he smirks and interlaces his fingers with yours. You look down at your hands, a little shocked at how forward he was now. 

  “Sorry, should I not have done that?” 

  He goes to move his hand but you just squeeze it reassuringly, “no it’s fine.” Santiago smiles wider, his fangs catching the light from all the signs of the storefronts. There were colorful fairy lights hanging from most stores, and there was the faint sound of a mariachi band a few streets away. The Old Town was beautiful, all the buildings were adobes, the decor was colorful, everything was just picturesque. Santiago stops in front of a shop with a neon sign that reads ‘panadería’. You follow him inside and the first thing you noticed was the strong smell of pastries. 

  “You said you haven’t gotten to try much of the local cuisine, so I figured a panadería was a good place to start.” He keeps you close to his side as he points things out in the cases, and talks to the older woman behind the counter in rapid Spanish. At the end of it all the two you got a small box of goodies to share at the nearby park. You sat together on a bench besides a lamppost from the early twentieth-century, Santiago leisurely wraps his tail around your ankles. “So, which do you want to start with?” 

  You point to a pig-shaped cookie, “the Cochito sounds nice, and it’s adorable.” 

  Santiago chuckles as he breaks the cookie in half, “do you want the butt or the head?”

  “Either is fine,” you smile as he hands you the head. You take a small bite, the cookie wasn’t too hard or too soft nor was it crumbly. Just like Santiago said, it tasted similar to a gingerbread cookie. But instead of ginger they used cinnamon, “you know, I don’t like cinnamon that much. But, this is really good.” 

  “We like cinnamon with our sweets, but it is one of the more milder flavors. There are a lot of Mexican candies that have chili flavoring.” 

  “Not to be rude, but that sounds gross.” 

  He laughs, “ it’s okay, even I don’t like them that much. However chili and chocolate is a good combination.”

  “I’ve never had it, so I have no comment” 

  Santiago picks up another pastry and tears the sweet apart, “vanilla Concha with lemon icing.” You take the torn piece and smile at how cute it was with the bright yellow frosting. The flavor blend was beautiful, and the lemon wasn’t overpowering at all. It didn’t take long for the two of you to satisfy your sweet tooth, nearly cuddling against each other as you ate. Santiago unwound himself from around your ankles and made his way to the nearby trash can. You couldn’t help but stare at his tail as he moved, fascinated with how the complex muscles looked while he slivered along the pavement. 

  “You’re staring, cariño.” 

  “I can’t help it, it’s still so foreign to me,” you fluster a little as he sits back down. 

  He sets the very end of his tail on your lap, “wanna look at it?” You nod cautiously and run your fingers along the scales, earning a smile from Santiago. 

  “So this is the rattle, huh”, you apprehensively run your fingers over the keratin segments. 

  “Indeed, every time I molt I get a new segment. And the muscles that control the rattle are among some of the fastest in the world. They can move about fifty times per second,” he rattles it for a split second. The sudden noise makes you jump, “sorry, should’ve given you a warning.” 

  “It’s fine,” you laugh a little at yourself. Santiago takes the opportunity to partially wrap the end of his tail around your wrist. “Oh, that is a lot of muscle.” 

  “Pretty good for never doing a leg day in my life, right?” You laugh heartily at the joke, using your free hand to cover your mouth. The two of you stay like that a while, part of his tail on your lap and at some point you lay your legs across his lap. The more you two talk the more blind you become to everything happening around you. Your peaceful conversation was rudely interrupted by Santiago’s phone going off. He looks at the caller ID and sighs, “it’s my roommate. He must’ve thought I died or something.” 

  You notice the time on his phone, “wow, it’s already nine thirty?” 

  “Yeah, time sure flies when you’re having fun,” he interlocks his fingers with yours again. His smile faltered a little as he looked at the clock again, “you should go, you said you had work in the morning.” 

  “That would be the responsible thing to do… Would you walk me back to my car?” 

  “Of course, I think you’ll get lost without me anyways,” he snickers as the two of you untangle your limbs. 

  “Lead the way, ranger.” He rolls his eyes as you tease, keeping a firm grip on your hand as the two of you leave the park. The streets weren’t as busy anymore, and the bars had small crowds outside of them. You didn’t care the some people stared as long as they kept their, most likely bigoted, comments to themselves. Once you made it to the parking lot, the two of you stood at the entrance, not wanting to leave the other. “I had a wonderful time tonight.” 

  “So did I,” his confidence faltered slightly as he was unsure of what to do next. 

  “I… I wouldn’t mind doing this again.” 

  “Really,” his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. 

  “Really… You’re fun and very sweet.” 

  “You aren’t too bad yourself cariño,” his trail slowly wraps around your feet loosely. His golden eyes landing on your mouth then scanning the rest of your face as he pulls you closer. “May I kiss you?” 

  You can feel your face instantly heat up, “I wouldn’t mind that at all.” 

  Santiago’s smile grows as his tail tightens around your ankles, a means to pull you even closer to him. His touch was gentle while he cupped your cheek and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. Obviously not wanting to overstep his boundaries. You gently wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for another kiss, much to his surprise. “Easy now cariño, it’s already hard enough for me to hold back,” he laughs and kisses the top of your head. 

  “I’m sorry for wanting something a little more,” you smirk and playfully pinch his cheek. 

  “In due time cariño,” he takes your hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “You should go hun, you have an early morning.” 

  “I suppose,” you pout.

  “Text me when you get home,” he begins to uncoil himself. “I want to know you made it home safe.” 

  “I will,” you look at your hands, holding onto each other by the pointer finger. “Thank you for tonight, I had a blast.” 

  “Anytime,” he gently takes your hand one last time and kisses the top of your knuckles. “Now run along cariño, don’t let me hold you up.” 

  You blush again, “not my fault you’re so enjoyable to be around.” With a heavy sigh you let go of his hand and adjust your purse on your shoulder, “well, thank you again… And I’ll text you soon.” 

  “Looking forward to it.” 

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Shinichi Okazaki) Off Guard

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance ☁

Word Count: 2,000 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Shinichi ☁

World: NANA ☁

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You frowned at the beer in your hand, hanging your head. You didn’t understand what was wrong with you lately. When you were writing your first book, the words flowed like water from a faucet, and ideas had been popping into your head left and right. You finished writing that book within only four months and, six months after that, the book was published with a well-known company.

When you had gotten the news that your book was on the best-sellers list, you felt absolutely ecstatic. Calls started pouring in, congratulating you on your debut success and your publisher began to push you for book number two, despite the fact that you had no plans of turning it into a series.

At the time, you felt energized and excited, immediately agreeing to the demand, but when you finally got around to sitting down to start writing said book, your mind went as blank as the page. How many times had you set the pen to the paper only to lift it back up again before a single line was written? What happened to that overflow of ideas you once had? Did they just disappear into smoke?

‘Am I just going to be a one-hit-wonder? Is this really where my dream ends?’ You found yourself wondering as your hand clenched the bottle tighter.

Your two close friends had long since stopped chatting, exchanging worried looks as they watched you. Koko reached out, setting her hand atop your own, which snapped you from your thoughts. You sent her a confused look. Was she trying to confess or something?

“Are you okay?” she inquired softly.

You forced a bright smile, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I’m fine!”

“You were zoning out again,” Lee commended, resting his chin in his hand.

“Was I?” You sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Writer’s stuff, you know.”

Koko hummed, reaching into her purse for a pen. She scribbled a number onto the napkin under her glass before sliding it over to you. You looked at it curiously, raising a brow – it wasn’t a number you recognized.

She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. “Call him. He has a way of knowing just what a person needs! Trust me, Y/N, Shinichi will blow your mind.”

You frowned down at the napkin, running your thumb over the dried ink. ‘Maybe I do need to get laid to clear my mind… Maybe if the experience is as good as she claims, it’ll even inspire something within me for the next book,’

After spending thirty more minutes together, the three of you exited the bar and went your separate ways. As you walked down the street, folding and unfolding the napkin, you decided to just bite the bullet. What did you have to lose? You pulled out your phone and dialed the number, heart racing as it started to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” You answered a bit awkwardly. “Is this Shinichi?”

“This is him,”

“My friend gave me your number,” you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to think of the right words.

He chuckled and you faintly heard the flick of a lighter. “Would you like to make an appointment? I’m free tonight and will meet you wherever is convenient.”

“Oh, um, yeah! That’ll work. There’s a motel on Honjo street… do you know it?”

“Yeah, I’m not far from there. I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

“Sure,” The phone went dead and you ended the call, turning around to head in the direction of the motel. Night had long since fallen and the parking lot was nearly empty as you approached the glass door of the office where you found a middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk, drinking from something within a brown paper bag before coughing violently as the liquid went down the wrong pipe.

You forced a smile, pretending like you hadn’t seen the scene. “I’d like a room for two days, please.”

She hiccuped, turning toward the computer – an ancient fossil of a thing that you were surprised even worked. You had to repeat your information several times before she finally got it entered correctly. After confirming the payment, she handed you the key for room 204 and you stepped out into the chilly night. Movement from the left made you glance over, seeing a male stepping out of a taxi. He was thin with spiky, powder blue hair. Multiple piercings glinted under the light of the streetlamp, covering his ears and even one connected to his lip.

The man turned around after paying his fare and smiled, approaching you without hesitation. He was definitely cute but… something about him felt off and you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Hi,” you said softly, playing with the key in your hand to calm your nerves. “Shinichi, right? I got us a room.”

He smirked, “You work fast~” And then his hand slid into your own, his fingers calloused and rough. “Lead the way,”

With a nod, you started toward the row of rooms, glancing at him every few seconds. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m not sure how this works.” You slid the key into the lock and entered the room, letting the door shut behind the two of you. “I’ve never done this before…”

Shinichi smiled gently as he sat on the side of the bed, hands behind him to support his weight. “Don’t worry, we can take it as slow as you need. First, tell me your name.”

You took a seat across from him on the other bed. “My name is Y/N,”

“Y/N,” he tested the way your name tasted on his tongue. “A gorgeous name for a gorgeous person.”

You giggled. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you.”

“It’s my job to be. Now, what is it you’re looking for, Y/N?”

Your lips parted to answer, but nothing escaped and your shoulders slumped as you frowned. ‘What do I want?’

Sensing your hesitation, Shinichi stood up and gently pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over your own as his knee settled between your legs and his lips pressed into the skin beneath your ear. His voice was husky as he spoke, warm breath tickling your skin. “Don’t overthink it. Tell me what’s bothering you, what made you give me a call.”

Your hands gripped at his slim waist, fingers sliding through the loops on his jeans. You’re not sure exactly what came over you, but you didn’t hesitate to spill your guts to this man, telling him every little detail from the moment you started writing to the current pressures from your publisher. Sometime during the story, he had shifted so he straddled your waist, looking down at you with wonder shining in his blue eyes.

“You’re really a best-selling author?” He grinned. “That’s so cool,”

“Yeah… cool.” You smiled back, but it was forced. “It’s looking like it’s just gonna be the one, though.”

“Hmm, I’ve always heard that it’s easiest to write about what you know or what you’ve personally experienced.”

“I’ve heard that before,” you admitted. “But my life hasn’t exactly been exciting or interesting.”

“Even so, you just got to start writing.” Shinichi stood up, pulling you with him before searching the small table between the two beds. He found a small pad of paper and a ballpoint pen and handed them over to you. “Don’t overthink it, just write whatever comes to mind.” He gave you an encouraging smile, tugging you toward the table.

You had very little hope that it would work, but his expression was just so damn cute you couldn’t deny him. Taking a deep breath to clear your mind, you sat down across from him and set the pen to the page.

And you started to write.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You burst through your apartment door, startling Shinichi who was sat on the floor with his guitar in his lap. “Shin! Guess what!”

He hummed, setting the guitar on the floor beside him as he crossed his legs. “Did you finally get a promotion at work?”

“Even better!” You cried, throwing yourself to the ground across from him. The excitement was so high that you couldn’t even sit still.

Shinichi frowned, leaning back against the couch. “Did you get a boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, smacking his knee. “No, you dork. My publisher approved the new book!”

“That’s great!” He smiled brightly, launching himself at you. You squeaked in surprise as the force sent you tumbling backward, his arms tight around your waist as he snuggled his face against your chest. “I knew you could do it, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

You brought your hand up, fingers lacing through his hair, slightly stiff from the amount of gel he used to make it so spikey. “It’s all because of you, Shin.”

And it was. Since that first fateful meeting two years ago, you had met with him twice a week, soon going to three times a week before finally asking him over to your apartment where he spent several nights at a time. Each meeting, he would encourage you to write whatever came to your mind while he sat and observed you. You grew close to him pretty quickly and, soon, you completed the first draft for your next book.

Together, the two of you read through the draft, making corrections or changes as you saw fit. This book was just as much his as it was yours, and you made sure to tell him so.

“I helped with the ideas, sure, but you’re the one that put in the real work.” He responded, a smile lighting up his face.

“Move in with me,” you told him suddenly, feeling your heart quicken as you realized what you just said. ‘Shit, I said the first thing that popped into my head!’ You knew Shinichi was a prostitute and that he hadn’t stopped seeing his other clients since meeting you. You never figured he would, to be honest, but… you had let yourself get too attached to him and now it hurt knowing he went to see other people, sleeping with them and spending time with them.

He was a young, attractive man, so naturally he would rather be with the clients that actually slept with him rather than picking his brain for ideas for a book. The farthest you had gone with him was a kiss on the cheek.

Silence fell over the apartment and you closed your eyes, wishing you could just disappear. ‘Y/N, you idiot. God, why did I say that?’

Shinichi pushed himself away from you after the words had left your lips. The minutes ticked by in absolute silence, seeming to stretch on forever as you prayed that the ground would just swallow you up whole.

He took an intake of breath, slowly releasing it. “Okay,”

Now that caught you off guard. Your eyes snapped open, locking with his own. Had you misheard him?

With a soft smile, he leaned forward until his forehead was resting against yours. “I would love to live with you, Y/N.” And then his lips found yours and you knew he had developed feelings for you, too.

You nipped at his lip before flipping him over so that you were hovering above him. “You joked about me finding a boyfriend. How could I when you’re the only one I want, Shinichi?” You hoped your feelings could reach him, eyes shining with love. “You don’t have to sell yourself anymore! You can have my money, live in my apartment, eat my food. You never have to worry about making money anym -”

He cut off your words when he grabbed the back of your neck, slamming his lips against yours to silence you. It was obvious he didn’t know how to convey his feelings through words like you could, so he used his body to do the talking for him. And to you, his desires were clear as day.

‘I’m yours now,’

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[rivalsforlife]

one more ahaha but the cherry blossom scene at the end of catch up game ch 3 because i'm still thinking nonstop about it all the time 👀👉👈

ABSOLUTELY I CAN also for anyone reading this go look at Mika’s art which inspired this scene. It’s the tumblr version so you can reblog it too, which you should do, even if you don’t read my long rambling,

okay once again rambling below...

Traditionally, Larry Butz arrived at any social gathering anywhere from half an hour to three hours later than the time he was told, so all things considered, he was actually early. Phoenix wasted no time informing him of the latest betrayal among their small elementary school friend group.

this is a direct callout to one of my friends from high school, where we started seriously considering telling her that any social event we were planning started an hour earlier than it actually did so that she’d make it there on time. We never did in case this turned out to be the time she actually made it on time, but still.

“Larry, remember that one time we were trying to make that gigantic hopscotch game, and we ran out of chalk?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Edgeworth, who sighed. “It turns out, Edgeworth hid it all along!”

Larry blinked, then shrugged. “Oh yeah, right, that. Well, I kind of had an idea…”

“Wh — You hid this from me too?! D-Death! The death penalty for the both of you!”

“Why does this all sound so familiar,” Edgeworth commented under his breath.

I think this part is mostly there so Larry actually does something because I couldn’t find any real way to fit him into this fic...? Anyways the dialogue there with Phoenix threatening the death penalty on Miles and Larry is pretty much directly lifted from the end of Turnabout Goodbyes, which is why Miles comments on it sounding familiar. 

They continued on in that vein for some time, dredging up old elementary school memories. Phoenix proclaimed to be the only innocent member of that group, before Edgeworth brought up a set of very nice gel pens Phoenix reportedly stole from him. Phoenix and Edgeworth got caught up in their argument, and barely even noticed when Larry wandered away, joining Maggey and Gumshoe at the fishing pond while Franziska critiqued them.

This sort of familiar banter was normal. As Edgeworth teased in that same way he had ever since Phoenix first faced him in court, he had to wonder if he’d just imagined the way Edgeworth had been looking at him during the party. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

Not pictured: Phoenix and Miles leaning in closer to each other as they argue. too close. Larry tries to comment but neither of them hear him. Eventually he just walks away because he’s sick of third-wheeling with these two. It’s my firm belief that if there weren’t the court benches in the way that they need to slam, these two would slowly walk closer and closer to each other as they argue because they. uh. want to “intimidate” each other. that’s why they’re nose to nose like that. the whole courtroom is suddenly very uncomfortable.

Haha anyways also I think these two would pick the dumbest things to argue about all the time? Never seriously arguing, the just like bickering because they don’t know how to hold conversations about their feelings.

“You still haven’t explained exactly what happened to my gel pen set,” Edgeworth accused, as they circled around the argument for the third time.

Phoenix threw his hands up in the air. “I just forgot to return it! I didn’t know you were so bothered by it. You should have brought it up!”

“Back then? You were so sensitive. If I brought up that you might have upset me in the least, you would have burst into tears.”

“I wasn’t that sensitive.”

Edgeworth sighed. “Wright, you cried when I got a question wrong on a spelling test, because you thought I would be sad about it.”

“And you were!” Phoenix retorted. “You cried for like an hour!”

“Because when you started crying, I thought it was something I had to be ashamed of!”

More bickering, pretty much! Also I do think Phoenix cried A Lot and was super sensitive up until the whole Dahlia trial which traumatized him pretty badly... 

Anyways the REAL story behind this incident which I am making up just now is probably that Miles was on the verge of crying because of Getting Something Wrong -- which I totally get, I absolutely almost cried over spelling tests as a baby -- and Phoenix picked up on this and realized his best friend was sad and started crying, which made Miles start to fully cry, and it just became a mess.

Meanwhile Larry with the 3/10 on his spelling test was just like “I don’t get what you guys are so upset about a 9/10 is great” which just makes them cry even more.

(Then Gregory probably found out about this incident and sat Miles down and gave him a speech about “everyone makes mistakes and it’s okay to not be perfect all the time, this is a learning opportunity and it shows you what you need to work on!”

:)

That sentiment didn’t last very long.)

Wow I’m getting off topic, moving on --

Phoenix crossed his arms. “I remember this whole thing very differently than you do. You cried first.”

“I never cried in fourth grade.”

Phoenix leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Origami.”

“Do not bring that up!” Edgeworth hissed as Phoenix reared back, laughing.

I don’t know if you need to lean in super close and whisper that in his ear though Phoenix, that might be a bit unnecessary. Miles got lucky here in that his Eternal Shame over not being able to fold an origami crane in fourth grade overrode whatever reaction he undoubtedly would have had about Phoenix’s face being very close to his face.

Anyways this banter is here in the fic mostly because I really wanted to show them being all comfortable and happy with each other. That was a major thing I wanted to push as much as possible in these earlier chapters, that they do care about each other a lot even before we enter the more outright romantic territory.

“Regardless, I am certain you took my gel pen set, so don’t try to blame faulty memory on that one. I bet you carelessly used them all up, didn’t you?”

“Hardly! I wouldn’t even touch it after you left. It reminded me of you.”

Some of the fight left Edgeworth’s stance. “Really?”

“Well… yeah.” He wasn’t sure why the admission suddenly felt like a confession of an entirely different sort.

aw man Phoenix you brought feelings into your banter NOW what are you going to do.

I’m preeetty sure I have books that I lent to my friends in fourth grade that they never gave back so it’s of course not an inherently romantic thing, they probably just forgot it was mine and obviously aren’t going to bring it back now ten years later, but for Phoenix in this case it was probably more like “I borrowed these gel pens from Miles and then keep forgetting to give them back but was going to after winter break, and then he left, so I need to hold onto them until he comes back”. Miles was taken from his life so suddenly it probably had a huge effect on him, especially since he had few friends at the time and Miles made such a big impact on him.

The two of them sat underneath the tree in a sudden, serene quiet. They’d both discarded their suit jackets at some point, down to their dress shirts and waistcoats. Phoenix pretended not to notice the way Edgeworth’s eyes darted across the line of his shoulders and lingered longer than they should have.

I don’t ever really pay much attention to what people are wearing or what they look like at any particular time when I’m writing, but in this case I took extra care to make sure they were in the same outfits as in the art that inspired this!

Maybe I’ll ramble a bit more about that! Pretty much the “theme” of narumitsu week this year was “cherry blossoms”, so I wanted to find some way to incorporate them into this fic somewhere somehow. I decided to have that as a focus on Free Day because I enjoy having structure and wasn’t sure what to have for the day.

Some of this scene, mainly the picnic, is inspired by that one official art here. The first iteration of this chapter had everyone in it (with the obvious exceptions of Diego and Mia) but then I took out Maya and Pearl for reasons I explained when I was talking about the scene in chapter 6 where I decided to cut a lot of Maya’s scenes out of this fic... even though I love her a lot.

And of course when I thought about cherry blossoms and narumitsu I thought about Mika’s art, yes I am linking it again, which I believe she posted about a month or so before I started planning and I was Thinking About It Constantly. It’s gorgeous and since there was the perfect opportunity to use it here I just couldn’t resist and here we are.

Back to the paragraph: Miles attempted to subtly check Phoenix out. It was not subtle.

“Do you still have those gel pens?” Edgeworth asked, softer. “I think you owe me them, after everything.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Phoenix, but it was difficult to have a heated argument right now, for some unknown reason. “If I still have them, they’re in a box somewhere. Plus, they ought to have dried up by now.”

“I doubt it.” A faint smile was beginning to crawl on Edgeworth’s face. “Those gel pens were state of the art.”

“Sure they were,” Phoenix dismissed. “And, what, you’re going to use them? Sign your fancy prosecutor documents in bright pink?”

“What makes you think I don’t do that already?”

“You wouldn’t — oh, wait, of course you’d have customized ink in the same colour as your entire wardrobe, who am I even talking to…”

“Mhm.” Edgeworth brushed his bangs from his eyes, a motion that Phoenix’s brain decided to fixate on for some reason. “But really, you went to all the trouble of keeping the set, and you never used any of them?”

(Miles voice) “oh so you kept something as trivial as that for so long because they reminded you of me? Tell me more. Why do you want a reminder of me. What exactly do you think of me, Wright,”

hm pretty much as soon as Phoenix brought Feelings into this conversation the atmosphere kind of changed and you can now imagine Miles staring with the most adoring expression at Phoenix while Phoenix is ignoring this with such intensity that it doesn’t even show up in his narration. But he also watches the way Miles brushes his bangs from his eyes, so he’s not much better.

And thinking about it now this scene really went on for too long about gel pens hahaha... 

“Objection!” Phoenix declared. “I used the blue one to write you letters at first.”

“Ah, of course you did. I never got any of those… How many did you send?”

“I don’t even want to know…”

Edgeworth hummed and looked off into the distance, where Gumshoe was demonstrating how to cast a line. “Your level of dedication is something else,” he said, as if to himself.

“Well, yeah. You were my only non-Larry friend. You were…” Phoenix swallowed. “You were important to me, you know? You saved me.”

“You keep bringing that up. You’ve more than returned the favor, you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

I don’t have a consistent headcanon about whether Miles got or read the letters, in this fic presumably von Karma intercepted them and got rid of them... and then presumably Miles ignored any that were sent to him as an adult.

Also these two are going to have ridiculous arguments about who saved who until they’re on their deathbeds, I’m sure.

Edgeworth turned back towards him as if to retort, but stopped halfway, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Phoenix.

“... Something on my face?” Phoenix asked, trying to quell the feeling of some sort of anxiety that bubbled up when Edgeworth stared at him like that.

insert mikacherryblossomart.png

Miles turns away for one second and then suddenly oh no he’s even more gorgeous now

Edgeworth was silent for some time. Then, very softly, he said, “You have cherry blossom petals in your hair.”

“What? Do I?” He reached a hand up to brush them out, but Edgeworth stopped him by grabbing his wrist, freezing Phoenix.

“With your hair, you’ll never get them out like that.” With his spare hand, Edgeworth began to pick each individual petal from his hair. “You look so — silly, Wright.”

Partially a callback to the beginning of chapter 3, when they were kids:

“Y-Your hair,” Miles managed to say through stifled laughter. “One of the flowers fell into it.”

Phoenix hands shot up into his hair. “Really?”

“You look so silly, Phoenix.” When Phoenix failed to find the flower, Miles reached out. “Here, let me.” 

 Phoenix remained still as Miles reached up to the top of his head and picked the flower out of his hair. “Your hair’s really soft,” Miles said quietly, before handing it over to Phoenix. “Here you go.”

because Miles apparently remembered that it was difficult for Phoenix to get the petals from his hair the first time, and also, wanted an excuse to touch Phoenix’s hair again.

But also the dialogue and interactions are ONCE AGAIN INSPIRED BY MIKA based on this reply to my reply to the art on twitter. look at that you can go and retweet the art on twitter too!

Overall this gives us an accurate Thoughts to Speech translator for Miles:

Miles: You have cherry blossom petals in your hair and it is going to kill me.

Phoenix: What? Do I?

Miles: No, wait, don’t brush them out, I want to touch your hair because it is soft and this is the perfect excuse. You look so captivating.

if Miles had said that out loud though it would probably have killed both of them.

Phoenix let out an awkward, low laugh, starting somewhere deep within his chest. “R-Really.”

“Mhm.”

Edgeworth’s eyes locked with Phoenix’s, and time seemed to freeze. There was a sudden thrum of tension in the air, as if Phoenix were in a play and he’d suddenly forgotten his lines, forgotten he was supposed to be in a play at all.

(chanting) “kiss kiss kiSS KISS KISS --”

But before either of them could break the sudden spell over them, a fishing hook whirred through the air, and —

“Ack, I — I think I got it stuck!”

but of course that needs to be interrupted at the worst possible time because this is fanfiction and this is how things work!

“In the tree?! How did you even manage to get it that far?”

“Don’t worry about it, Maggey, I can climb up the tree and get it unstuck, just hang on —”

“No, no, if I just give it a big yank—”

“Maggey—!”

I broke the first rule of writing dialogue because I can’t really remember who’s supposed to be saying what. I think that Maya had a few lines here and then I didn’t change them since there were no dialogue tags...

Pretty much -- Maggey with her eternal luck tried to fish but released the line too early as she was swinging back so the line went back and got caught in the tree branches directly above Phoenix and Miles.

I think the dialogue progression goes Maggey -> Originally Maya but now either Larry or Franziska -> Gumshoe -> Maggey -> everyone going MAGGEY NO!!!

I remember going fishing with my grandpa once a long time ago and either I or my brother did get the fishing line stuck in a tree. would not recommend.

The branch above Phoenix and Edgeworth jostled, and pink petals burst all around them, fluttering down and catching in their hair and on their clothes. One petal even fell behind Edgeworth’s glasses.

They stared at each other for a moment, stunned, Edgeworth’s hand still loosely wrapped around Phoenix’s wrist, as Maggey shouted apologies from the distance.

There are no cherry blossom trees where I live so I have no idea if we’re even in the right season for this or if cherry blossom trees even behave this way - but I’m basing it off of... you know when it’s that point in fall where if you shake a tree branch leaves will just scatter everywhere? That. 

Also RIP to the other four who were just having a grand old time fishing and then turn around seeing these two sitting really close to each other almost holding hands about two seconds away from a kiss... which they’d just interrupted...

And then — the most incredible thing happened, and Edgeworth began to laugh.

Phoenix could have catalogued all the laughs he heard from Edgeworth: the usual, short laughs often mistaken for a scoff by those who didn’t know him as well as Phoenix did; the triumphant, smug, courtroom laughs when he thought he had Phoenix cornered; to the quiet, restrained ones in private that were more of a hum than anything else. This laugh was new.

This was a full-on fit of laughter bubbling deep in his chest and spilling from his mouth, which Edgeworth quickly covered with his free hand, with the additional bonus of covering his reddening face. It wasn’t something hidden or faked or triumphant, it was genuine, and open, and Phoenix could swear it was one of the most beautiful sounds he ever heard.

Miles here is going through an emotional rollercoaster having been two seconds away from finally kissing the love of his life only to be interrupted at the worst possible time, which is just so on brand for the two of them that he can’t help but start laughing hysterically. Plus Phoenix probably looks absolutely shocked suddenly covered in petals, which doesn’t help.

Then the next two paragraphs are brought on by Phoenix Pining and also me wanting Miles Edgeworth to laugh more... 

From my notes for this scene:

They stare at each other for a moment and laugh, and Miles’ laugh just utterly captivates Phoenix and makes him fall so completely in love immediately and oh no he is screwed he is utterly screwed.

So pretty much I had to encapsulate the “falling so completely in love immediately” part which I decided to do by focusing on Miles laughing. I wanted to draw a lot of attention to that which is why there are so many paragraphs dedicated to Miles laughing and Phoenix thinking about Miles laughing.

Trucy’s laughter always made the world feel a little brighter, and made Phoenix feel stronger. Edgeworth’s laugh did the opposite; it dislodged something inside of him, it weakened him, it made the whole world go soft and fuzzy around him. Instead of illuminating all the good in the world, it turned Phoenix’s world into one person.

More focus on Miles’ laughter but also... kind of drawing attention to Phoenix’s reaction to this being different from his reaction to other people he cares about laughing? Because feeling warm and happy when seeing someone you care about non-romantically laugh is normal, but then I wanted to make it clear that this is a different sort of feeling for Phoenix. 

Also Phoenix has to realize this is a different sort of feeling for him because otherwise he could brush it off like he’s probably dismissed all of his romantic feelings throughout the years as “oh I’m just glad my friend is happy, and I rarely ever hear Edgeworth laugh so him being relaxed enough to laugh like that makes me feel happy too,” but it’s not what he’d expect if he just sees Miles as a friend. And it’s described as weakening in the paragraph because right now the subject of his romantic feelings for Miles isn’t something that Phoenix can fully or easily accept right now (as chapter 5 would indicate).

Edgeworth’s fit of laughter subsided, and he shifted his hand so he could look at Phoenix again, the hints of a shy grin peeking out between his fingers, his hair and his shirt and his face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink. It was like looking at an entirely different person — or, no, the same person, but with all armor off, all guards lowered.

Miles is very embarrassed right now but kind of... in a good way...? Like again, almost kissed the love of his life then rudely interrupted at the last possible moment, plus Phoenix’s whole reaction to the thing gave Miles the impression that Phoenix wanted to kiss him as well, so he’s feeling a little giddy. Plus he was just laughing a lot when he normally doesn’t do that. Overall he’s not used to expressing his emotions so he’s embarrassed and a little shy about it...

The part about Miles’ “hair and shirt and face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink” refers to both the cherry blossom petals (in his hair and clinging to his shirt and a bit on his face) and also him blushing quite a bit.

It all feels a little out of character honestly haha because Miles isn’t really the type to be blushing hardcore like this and be a little shy, buuut in this case I let myself get away with it because he’s dealing with romantic feelings he hasn’t ever dealt with at this level before, and it’s also out of character just enough to really strike Phoenix in the heart. You can just imagine him staring at Miles with the most lovestruck expression on his face because he hasn’t seen this side of Miles before and he loves it.

Phoenix’s heart stuttered in his chest, and may have stopped entirely.

He was screwed.

He was completely and utterly screwed.

And even Phoenix can’t deny that he’s super in love at this point. 

I think I wrote this part, changed the words “screwed” to “doomed” right before posting, and then switched it back again for no particular reason. The Vibe just felt a little off but oh well.

Then the next chapter skips over the rest of this picnic but honestly Phoenix’s brain skipped over the rest of this picnic as well. Imagine the two of them just kind of standing around in a lovestruck daze for a while. I think Franziska had to physically drag Miles out of there. no one knows how Phoenix got home, not even Phoenix and least of all me!

But thank you Mika for requesting this!! And for drawing such incredible art for me to base the chapter around haha!!!

[zevlors-tail]

Is it okay to request a love letter from Momo? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 I dunno what kind of details about me you want or need but just have fun with it! 💕

(Ahhh yes, I get to write for Momo! <3 Thanks, Sleepy! Momo strikes me as the type to write almost like...formal letters to someone, but at the same time, they would be super poetic and mushy, especially her love letters! I hope I did okay!)

[The letter is completely hand written in elegant cursive, and by the looks of it, she used a very expensive pink gel pen- the kind with sparkles in it.]

Honey, my dearest,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I’ve never really written a love letter before, but...I can’t keep these lovely feelings to myself anymore. Every time I look at you, I feel like I’m looking at the sun. Your smile is so bright, and your eyes have the most wonderful twinkle in them. Please, don’t ever stop shining; it’s what I love so much about you! You’re my inspiration when I can find none.

So, if you’ll have me, I would very much like it if you would consider being mine, and I, yours.

I was going to send the best tea I could find, but I heard you’re not much of a tea person, so I’ve sent some hot chocolate instead. [There’s a couple gold rimmed packets of hot chocolate taped to the paper under that last sentence.] Not to worry, it’s the most popular brand I could find! I even tried some myself to make sure the flavor was on par with the raving reviews others have left. It was delicious, as to be expected- nothing but the best, for the best!

Please join me for a dinner date this evening if you’re free. We can go to whatever restaurant you’d like, or if you’re not comfortable with that, we can always have dinner at my place instead! I would love to show you around my house!

Sincerely yours, Momo XOXO

Join in on Sweater’s 100/200 Follower Special!

[hollywooduniversityalumnus]

1. burning glances, turning heads

He really should know better, Margot thought, to expect that his class would be paying attention on a Friday afternoon before the long weekend.

As Professor Hunt, the surliest yet most accomplished educator to roam the halls of Hollywood University, all but threw Lance Sergio out for being extremely obvious about taking excessively filtered selfies during the lecture, she took the opportunity to lean over to Addison, poking her with the eraser end of her mechanical pencil. The blonde, as if being suddenly woken, started, causing her gel pen to make a squiggle just off the doodle she was mindlessly making on the edge of her paper.

“What?” Addison asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Margot shrugged. “I’m bored.”

“I think we’re all bored,” Addison teased. “But at least some of us are more subtle than others.”

She nodded towards the front, where the professor had turned his attentions to Jenni Whitman, whose open laptop screen displayed one of the trashier celebrity gossip websites. Beside her, Bianca Stone surreptitiously slipped her phone into her pocket and bowed her head over her notebook, as though trying to commit the blank pages to memory, and Shae, another of Bianca’s friends, panicked and stuffed her phone in the front of her shirt, making a strange lump in the fabric.

As Jenni, too, packed up and took her leave at his insistence, Professor Hunt returned to the lectern, his jaw tense.

“While I understand that you are all incapable of delaying gratification long enough to pay attention in my class, I maintain my zero-tolerance policy for distractions. It would do the rest of you well,” he gritted out, “to not force my hand any more than it’s already been.” His eyes slowly took in the remaining pupils sitting in the hall. “Do I make myself clear?”

The lecture continued.

As he began a diatribe on romantic comedies, Margot turned back to Addison and gestured for her to look at her notebook. Addison subtly glanced down as she pretended to stretch, reading the message written on the corner of the page in very, very light pencil lead strokes.

Do you think he’s ever even seen a rom com?

Addison smirked and turned the page on her notebook, scrawling her reply in much more perceptible pink glitter ink.

Not on purpose, if at all.

Margot suppressed a laugh at the thought.

Like, maybe he sat through You’ve Got Mail thinking that it was about the postal service?

Or Mystic Pizza being about a magical pizza.

Or Crazy Rich Asians being a biopic.

Or-

“I thought I made myself clear.”

The two girls jumped in their seats, hearts pounding, expecting to find the frowning professor looming over them. Luckily for them, his attention was on Shae, whose poorly hidden phone in her shirt had become quite the spectacle, as the screen lit up behind the thin fabric and an instrumental snippet of a Top 40s hit blared from behind the buttons.

“Out,” Professor Hunt snapped. When Shae didn’t immediately move, he all but yelled, “Out!”

Dear God, she thought, this lecture is never-ending.

She was one of perhaps sixteen students left in the hall. Many others, including Bianca, had either flown the coop during the mandated fifteen-minute break, or were not-so-nicely asked to leave by the increasingly tense professor. She had flirted with the idea of beginning her long weekend early, too, but she knew she was already on thin ice with Hunt (to be fair, when isn’t she?), and she might as well learn something anyway. She didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to be. Unlike many of her classmates, she wasn’t heading home for the long weekend, and her plans for the next four days were most likely going to be a cycle of sleep, catching up on the show Chris recommended, and getting takeout.

“. . . and that is why we're discussing the decline of the romantic comedy, a genre that relies all too often on an unbelievable formula. Miss Sinclair?”

Addison’s head snapped up. “Yes, Professor?”

“Kindly give us an example of a trope commonly seen in romantic comedies. I am assuming you are familiar with them.”

“Y-yes,” Addison said, twirling her fuzzy-capped gel pen with her fingers. “Um, in, um, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, the two leads often fought and got on each other’s nerves but fell in love with each other anyway.”

Professor Hunt nodded. “Thank you, Miss Sinclair. A topical example of an overused trope. How often have you seen the two lead characters spend most of a movie fighting with each other, only to end up together in the end because of some ill-established passion? Far too often, I’d assume.”

As he droned on, Margot reached over and patted Addison’s arm. “Good job.”

The blonde returned the smile, relieved to have survived the encounter. “Thanks, I was dying inside.”

“Real love is nothing like that,” Hunt said, sneering. “Real love, the kind that exists outside of a cinema screen or five-dollar DVD bin, is not a predictable, clearly laden path with a clear and promised conclusion. Expecting a happily ever after in a relationship is naïve at best.”

“Who hurt him?” Addison mumbled to her.

She poked Addison again with her pencil. “Can you imagine someone loving Hunt? Or even dating him?”

“No! It'd be like dating an angry bear. It’d be a miracle if they lived to tell the tale. I heard he's single, unsurprisingly.” Addison shook her head.

“He probably has crazy high standards. Do you think he has a type?” She bit her lip, assessing her professor from afar. Though his modelling days were far behind him, he still maintained a well-kept, impeccable appearance that often made her wonder what he would look like without the constricting suits he wore like second skins. His features were both manly yet delicate, as if the world had taken its sweet time with perfecting his visage. And his jawline . . . sharp enough to cut glass. He was definitely not lacking in looks, talent, or drive, which was what made his being perpetually single all the more intriguing, though his personality made it understandable.

“Yeah, if perfect is a type. Like, someone with a model hot body, a mind as sharp as a stiletto, and a Hollywood career that's skyrocketing.” Addison giggled.

She tapped her lip with the eraser end of her pencil, thinking. “So, a fictional person.”

Addison leaned into her, eyes glimmering with amusement. “I bet it'd be like getting graded all the time. He'd be judging your outfit, insulting your conversation, critiquing your kissing technique! ‘Too much tongue. You call that a kiss? Kindly remove yourself from my sight.’”

She chuckled. “‘You’ve got to do better than that if you want me to feel anything other than complete and utter monotony.’”

“‘I've seen more believable kisses on The Bachelor.’”

The laugh that bubbled out of her was loud enough to capture the attention of the very man they were emulating. His eyes narrowed as he spotted her quickly trying to clamp her mouth shut.

“Miss Schuyler! Is something amusing? Perhaps you'd like to finish off my lecture on the difficulty of realistically portraying love?” he asked.

She straightened in her seat. “Sorry, Professor.”

“. . . And in conclusion, once a genre full of heart, the majority of romantic comedies have descended into farce bereft of true emotion. Class dismissed.” The professor strode over to his desk and began the necessary routine of shutting off the projection screen. As he did, the rest of the class stood up, stretching, and began packing their things away. Excited voices began eagerly discussing their plans for the weekend.

Thank God, Margot thought. The never-ending lecture was over. Let the weekend-

His eyes met hers, a pointed gaze. “Except for you, Miss Schuyler. Come see me. We need to talk.”

. . . Shit.

Addison touched her arm. “Do you want me to stay back, too?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said, patting her friend’s hand. “You go on ahead. Don’t be late for your bus. I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing your mom.”

Addison grinned. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

“The least you can do,” she teased.

Addison’s smile waned. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on campus for the weekend? My mom said it would be no trouble at all for you to visit.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, I’ll be fine. With almost everyone going away for the long weekend, I’m going to indulge in using up all the hot water. Maybe even sit at the good table in the coffee shop. Wild stuff like that. Thank you, though.”

“Well, then,” Addison said, smile returning full-force, “I’ll be on my way. Good luck! Hope you don’t get into too much trouble.”

She stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “Don’t worry about little ol’ me. I know how to deal with him.”

Addison nodded and took her leave, one of the last of the classmates to exit the hall. Gathering up the rest of her things, Margot stuffed them into her tote bag and made her way up to the professor’s desk, where he was busy rifling through his own bag and muttering to himself.

“Just one second,” he said, placing a few handfuls of odds and ends from the depths of his bag on the table.

She nodded, more fascinated by the things that he seemingly carried around with him. Of the many things on his desk, she noted a mini Rubik’s cube, a slip of paper with very faded ink that might have been a receipt or a movie ticket once, a cellophane-wrapped green-and-white mint, three expensive-looking pens of various colours and sizes, and a tube of plain blue Nivea lip balm, identical to the one she had in her purse at that very moment. While the label on hers had faded from usage and being flung around inside her bag, his looked brand new.

After brushing those items back into his bag, he placed a stack of papers on the desktop. Among them, a bright slip of paper poked out, much smaller than the rest, and made of a thicker, textured material. Curious, she pulled it out until she could read the tiny lettering.

5th Annual Los Angeles Charity Masquerade. Admit one (1). $250 admission not including fees/taxes.

She’d never been to a masquerade. She imagined they were just like that scene in Labyrinth, with David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly spinning around the room, surrounded by people in grotesque masks that partly concealed their identities. Big poufy dresses and suits with coattails. Drapery and curtains and mirrors. But an LA soiree version of one probably meant champagne by the bucketful and crudités carried around by masked waiters. Perhaps live music, performed by musicians forced into formal wear, and maybe they were even masked as well. Was everyone there, guest or not, required to wear one? Were masquerades that strict? Do people who wear glasses have to-

You’re getting distracted, she told herself.

“A masquerade ball, huh? That sounds romantic.” She leaned against the desk, smirking at him. “And here I thought you were completely against the concept of romance.”

“Only someone delusional looks for love at a charity masquerade ball,” he replied scathingly. “It's a charity event and an obligation. I'm expected to attend, but there'll be no one worth talking to. As usual.”

“No date, huh?”

His eyes narrowed. “A date would require me to spend the entire evening there. I can't imagine anything worse. I'll be leaving as soon as I've made my donation to the cause. But I didn't call you up here to discuss my social calendar, Miss Schuyler. I wanted to talk about your behaviour in class. I thought, after seeing nearly all of your classmates get removed from the hall, you’d know better than to provoke me. I want to make it absolutely clear to you that it is unacceptable to disrupt my lecture. Save your chit chat for your own time, understand?”

She swallowed hard, feeling heat on her cheeks from his gaze. “Yes, Professor.”

He nodded once. “Good. You may go.”

As she left the hall, phone in hand, her heart was thumping in her chest from excitement. But not from the weekend finally starting.

She’d never been to a masquerade, after all.

But first, she’d need a dress. And shoes.

Without her stellar roommate and fashionista friend by her side, she felt entirely overwhelmed as she flipped through the overflowing closet Addi had insisted she make use of. Though she hadn’t told her the whole truth – just that she was attending an event that required formal wear – Addi had been thrilled to break up the boring bus ride with some advice.

“Not too much cleavage,” Addison said, her voice tinny through the phone speaker. “And not short, either. Knee-length or longer.”

“Do you think I’ll need gloves?” she asked. “Like Cinderella?”

Addison hummed. “Maybe. Pack a pair of elbow length white gloves in your bag, just in case. Oh my gosh. What bag are you bringing? It cannot clash. You hear me? Cannot.”

“Addi, I don’t even know what dress I’m wearing.” Margot frowned at her phone, balanced atop a stack of textbooks on her vanity. “I’m standing here in my underwear trying to figure this out. I’m pre-bibbidi-bobbidi-boo here.”

Addison’s laughter rang out of the speaker.

“I’m serious, Addi. Maybe I shouldn’t go.” She bit her lip, thinking of the money she’d spent on a ticket, money that might’ve been better spent. She was lucky that there were even tickets available. But that was beside the point. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea? Having a good time? Attending a charity event? Making career-defining connections? Come on.” Addison giggled. “Maybe you’ll even meet the love of your life there.”

“Right.” She flipped through the racks, eager to find something, anything . . . and then she saw it. A strapless, silvery blue ball gown, tight at the top but not overly cleavage-baring, that flared out at the waist to a full, silky skirt that would definitely conceal whatever shoes she would wear. She pulled it out of the closet and unzipped the clear garment bag to admire it. It was a princess dress if she ever saw one. Turning back to the phone, she quickly requested the voice call turn to a video.

Seconds later, Addison’s tired faced filled the screen. “What is it?”

Brandishing the dress out with a flourish, she ignored that she was standing in little more than a bra and panties as she showed the dress for her friend’s approval.

The gasp she heard confirmed her selection.

“You’ll be so stunning! A real-life Cinderella,” Addison said.

“Yeah,” she said absentmindedly, running her hand over the smooth fabric, already envisioning the makeup look she’d pair with the outfit.

“Except-” Addison narrowed her eyes in her best stern Hunt impression. “If you lose one of my shoes, it would be best to leave the country.”

Her taxi finally reached the front of the line, and a footman waiting on the sidewalk opened the door for her. She stepped out in her beautiful ball gown, giving the footman a grateful smile as he closed the door after her. Taking her time ascending the steps in her heels, she met another footman at the door who, after looking at her ticket and corroborating it with the guest list on a tablet, handed her a mask with ribbons.

She stepped into the hallway leading to the ballroom and found a mirror where she could put it on. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was more than pleased by her last-minute glow-up. As Addison had her closet, she had her vanity, stuffed to the brim with makeup products that she used to make herself look as chic as possible. After adjusting the mask to fit her face, she smoothed a layer of lip gloss over her lined lips and smiled to herself.

With this mask, I could be anyone . . . well, anyone smokin' hot, that is, she thought.

The ballroom was packed despite its tremendous size. Decorated Regency-style, it dripped with decadence, glass, and shine. Gold chandeliers tipped with crystals dangled from ceilings with painted murals, and tables spilled over with decadent food and sparkling drinks in crystal flutes. Famous actors and big names in the industry, though shrouded by masks of varying hues and designs, gossiped at the edges of the room, while couples danced and twirled on the floor. As she envisioned, masked waiters masterfully navigated the room, offering bite-sized treats that made her mouth water just looking at them.

After making her way around the room, taking in the splendor, she came to a stop near a pillar and sighed.

“This is incredible,” Margot said aloud.

“Isn’t it?”

She turned her head, surprised to see a man with a dark blue mask eyeing her from where he sat by the nearby bar.

“Come sit with me and let’s talk about it,” he said. The invitation, though innocuous in its wording, made her uncomfortable.

“Um,” she said. Her mind, which was usually buzzing with quips, did not offer her an out.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he pressed, voice a little too firm and sharp for her liking. “I won’t bite. Come here.”

She swallowed hard at his leery gaze, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “I-”

And then she felt it, a hand circling around her elbow, and she was not alone. She tilted her head up to appraise her saviour, who was looking down at her with a smile. Her saviour, tall and silver-masked, looked and spoke to her as if he knew her.

“There you are.” He led her to the other side of the bar, all the while chattering loudly as though they had come together. “Nearly lost you in this crowd.”

She knew that voice. Knew it quite well, in fact. She’d heard it in lecture halls, offices, in her nightmares and dreams, and in places unexpected.

This was one of the latter now.

He gestured to a pair of empty seats, and she gratefully took one. As soon as she was comfortable, he turned his head to look over at where that man who had been speaking at her sat. Then, he leaned against the bar, standing over the other empty seat, and picked up a half-empty glass, presumably abandoned by him when he came to her rescue.

“You should be careful,” he said sternly.

For a moment, she thought he recognized her, and she prepared for the lecture that would undoubtedly come.

“Even charity events attract the lecherous,” he continued. “You’re very welcome, by the way.” A smirk played on his lips before he took a sip of his drink.

“Thanks,” she said, for she had no clue what else to say.

He nodded once. “Do be careful with yourself. You’re bound to attract some unwanted attention. It would do you well to keep your head clear so that you may avoid future encounters. You can’t expect someone to come to your rescue every single time.”

“Nor do I expect rescue at all,” she replied. “I am no damsel in distress. Though, I guess, I kind of was for a second there, huh.”

He laughed. It wasn’t sarcastic or mocking. A genuine laugh that made him tilt his head back ever so slightly. She’d never heard him laugh like that before, but now that she had a taste, she wanted to hear it again and again. It was so unlike him, the caustic and cold professor she knew. It made him even more attractive.

“At least you’re honest.” He tilted his head at her. “I prefer to be honest.”

“I like that.” Sitting up a little straighter, Margot added, “Honesty's refreshing. One thing I've learned since I've been here, in Hollywood I mean, is that too many people are willing to lie to your face or cheat to get ahead.”

He glanced at his watch. “Is that so?” He killed his drink and then levelled his gaze with hers. “And you’re not one of them?”

“No,” she said, then thought better of it. “Not yet, at least. Not if I can help it.”

“So, you want to get ahead.” He finally lowered himself into the seat beside hers.

He gestured to the bartender for a refill, and she took the opportunity to order herself a drink. The bartender nodded at them and turned away.

“I want to be a household name. A famous actress.”

He leaned forward, close to her. “Here's some more truth for you . . . everyone here wants to be something. But not everyone here is going to succeed.”

Stubbornly, she said, “I will.”

“You're brash, naive, and overly confident. I used to be that way, before. . .” His smirk waned, then disappeared altogether. It was clear he was not mentally in this room anymore.

She wondered what he was thinking about.

The bartender slid his scotch refill to him, then delicately placed her drink on a coaster in front of her. He picked up his glass and took a rather large gulp.

“. . . Ahem. Excuse me. I'm Thomas. And you are?”

Honesty’s refreshing, she had said just moments earlier. Too many people are willing to lie to get ahead.

She truly didn’t want to lie to him, not now. But she also sensed that revealing herself now would mean that she wouldn’t get to keep talking to him like this or hear that laugh.

And, honestly, what good would come out of angering him after he’d been so kind to her?

“Someone who doesn't like to reveal all her secrets.” She smiled coyly, taking a sip from the paper straw in her drink. “It's a masquerade ball, after all.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You don't have to be so coy. I don't need a name to figure out who you are. Or anyone in this room, for that matter.” Turning so that he could assess the crowd around them, he nodded towards different masked guests. “Timothee Chalamet; his hair is distinctive, as is his stature. Charlize Theron; note the regal way she carries herself, much like several of her most notable characters. Adam Driver; tall, kind of awkward gait, a low voice that carries over the crowd.”

“Very impressive, Thomas,” she said, trying out his name on her tongue. It was sort of strange to refer to him so casually, but she’d have to adapt if she wanted to keep this going on.

He took another sip, clearly pleased to be right. “Told you, didn’t I?”

Though she enjoyed the game they were playing, she decided to really test him. “Here’s a harder challenge: do you know who I am?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I've been wondering that the moment you arrived. Something about you is familiar, almost loathsome, yet at the same time, forgive me, attractive.” He tilted his head. “You’re not going to tell me who you are, are you?”

Though her heart was pounding, she kept it cool. “Maybe at the end of the night. Unless you're planning on leaving early. Are you?”

“No.” He broke eye contact with her long enough to get the bartender’s attention, and he gestured for another refill. “No, I’m not.”

At some point, in the midst of their conversation, the music had noticeably gone softer and slower. He finished his drink and sighed, placing the glass onto the countertop, but just as he was about to request another refill, she captured his attention with a hand on his arm.

“We should dance,” Margot said, springing out of her seat. “Care to join me?”

He hesitated, and her glossed lips pouted.

Then, slowly, he rose from his seat, all the while maintaining eye contact with her. He straightened his tie and gave her a smirk.

“Do try to keep up,” he teased, buttoning his suit jacket before offering her his arm. They slipped through the crowd, the guests not dancing parting for them as easily as water. As soon as they reached the dance floor, he took the lead, taking her in his arms and guiding her. She was slow, cautious. He watched her fight her instinct to look at their feet.

“If you're nervous, this dance will be over before it even begins,” he warned, though his grip on her tightened.

She pulled him closer, emboldened by the drink in her system and the fact that he didn’t know who she was, and smiled up at him.

“Do I seem nervous, Thomas?” she asked.

He smiled. “Not at all. I’m surprised. You’re not completely horrible at this.”

She batted her eyelashes. “You say such charming things.”

They both laughed as he whirled her around the room.

She didn’t know how long they’d been dancing for, but she knew they were being watched. The crowd of dancers had thinned considerably since they had first arrived on the dance floor, and now many spectators lined the floor, watching with increasing interest as she and her partner weaved around the other dancers, doing increasingly interesting moves at his lead.

Her heart was pounding, the music was building to a crescendo, and he spun her around the dance floor faster and faster.

Don’t puke, she told herself. Do not do it. Your reputation will not recover. Not with whoever’s in attendance, and certainly not with Thomas.

His voice came from somewhere to her right. “Keep to my tempo, or you'll fall behind.”

He spun her out and away from him.

The world beyond the dance floor seemed as if was moving in slow motion, while she was stuck on fast-forward. She felt like she was one of the fairy toys that spun around and around in the air, aimless and free, before meeting a wall or piece of furniture and clattering to the floor. She braced herself for impact.

But then her hands connected with his again, and the crowd that had gathered to watch the dancers applauded as he pulled her back into his embrace.

“You learn quickly. I wish you were one of my students,” he whispered in her ear.

Her stomach, which had felt so light just moments before, now felt heavy and twisted.

“You’re a teacher,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “I teach at a local university.”

“How . . . nice.” It was the best she could come up with at the moment.

After she had become too dizzy from the spinning, he escorted her off the dance floor with an amused smile. He led her through the ballroom and out onto a private balcony cordoned off by a thick dark velvet curtain. Taking her hand, they stepped closer to the railing, into the cool evening air.

After giving her a long look, he let go of her hand and slowly removed his mask. The silver-lined blue barrier fell away to reveal him. He looked even more handsome up close, with a shy smile on his lips and the bright light from a single lantern hanging above them illuminating his debonair features.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, stunned by seeing him so unguarded, and even more handsome up close. “Not at all.”

The ocean waves below were muted by her heartbeat. Above them, she noted the sun setting, the sky becoming an ombre canvas of oranges, reds, and pinks. It was truly a stunning sight, but her gaze kept coming back to him. Still smiling, he reached out and took her hands in his.

His voice was husky, low. “You are definitely the best part of the night. I wasn't expecting to meet someone like you. I can sense something about you, a connection . . . I never thought I'd feel this strongly about someone I just met, but I can't seem to stop myself.”

She felt as though she was not breathing. As if she might never breathe again.

Moving even closer, he circled his arms around her waist, tilted her head up, and leaned in, eyes closing just before they made contact.

She was surprised by how sweetly he kissed her, how delicately he held her, as though she would slip away in the faintest breeze. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him until they were nearly inseparable. She thought she could hear fireworks somewhere, and wondered if she was only imagining them, but when they finally pulled back from the kiss, she saw flashes of colour illuminating his face in vibrant hues.

“Thomas,” she said breathlessly.

And then his mouth was on hers again, pulling her closer still, until his back was against the wall, and her hand was on the back of his neck, holding him to her. She felt his fingers on her back, just above the silk of the strapless dress, and she shivered and pressed herself tighter to him.

“Please,” he whispered raggedly once they separated again. “I have to know who you are.”

Margot stilled.

He reached around her and began tugging on the ribbons of her mask. She watched him closely, letting him untie the knots, savouring what very well may be the last moment she would have with him like this. 

The mask fell away from her face, and she watched him recognize her, watched his eyes widen and face twist in betrayal and anger before he stepped back and pressed a hand against his mouth in horror. Her blood ran cold as his eyes narrowed and his expression hardened to one of complete disdain.

“Margot? How - how dare you?” he gasped. “You – you – I cannot believe this! You lied to me! You deceived me! You seduced me! How could you?”

His rejection, though expected, pained her in ways she couldn’t even describe. As though his words were branding irons, burning his hatred into her flesh.

“You’re the last person I wanted to see behind that mask,” he spat. “You, of all the people in the world.”

He kept hurting her, hurting her, like he didn’t care. And perhaps he didn’t, now that he knew the truth.

“I can’t believe I - Dear God, I kissed a student.” He leaned back against the wall, forcing himself to take deep breaths to keep himself steady.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched him denounce her in every way possible. Even though he’d bragged about being able to identify anyone, he didn’t expect her, didn’t even cross his mind to guess her, and for some reason it hurt her more than anything else.

“Some part of you might’ve known it was me,” she said indignantly. “You were bragging that you-”

He let out a caustic laugh at that. “Why would I want you to be someone I despise? Someone I don’t respect? I’m disgusted with you and myself.”

And that was all she needed to hear.

Pushing past him, she covered her face – and the tears streaking down them – as she rushed out of the gala and into the night.

The taxi ride back to the dorms was awkward, mostly because she spent the entire ride sniffling, trying to hold back her tears, and using up the Kleenex the driver kept a box of by the rear windshield. After tipping him, she sprung out of the taxi and didn’t stop running until she was safely back in her room.

It was there that Margot allowed herself to fully break down. In that beautiful princess dress, she flopped onto her bed and sobbed, hugging herself tightly, letting out all the anger and frustration and pain that she felt at being so heavily and heartlessly rejected by him. She cried for the way he looked at her. Sobbed at the beautiful moments they shared that were now tainted by the conclusion of the night. She ached for what could have been and wept for her naivete.

A part of her knew that there was no way anything could’ve come from it. But she’d let herself fall into the fairy tale, accepting him as her stand-in prince for the evening, and felt charmed by their conversing, their somewhat playful banter, and the compatibility in their dancing skills. And the kisses they shared . . .

Though her chest and throat ached from crying, if she closed her eyes tight enough, she could still feel his mouth against hers, languid and sweet in its kiss.

There was something there. She knew it.

It hurt her to know that, even if he sensed something too, he would never acknowledge it.

Twenty minutes away from the Hollywood U dorms, Thomas Hunt sat on his bed, still in his suit from the masquerade, drinking scotch straight from the bottle. Two pairs of masks lay beside him, one slightly more rumpled than the other from its owner stepping on it as she ran from the private balcony.

Setting the bottle down on the bedside table, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, forcing himself to think back to the beginning of it all, pushing past the haze the alcohol left in his head.

He’d spotted her the moment she walked in and had kept an eye on her since she began making her way around the ballroom. And, from the sounds of the men sitting close by him, he was not the only one who had noticed her.

The dress she wore made her ethereal, like she’d stepped out of a dream. The shiny silk that hugged her frame before flowing to the floor, coupled with her demure yet entrancing makeup and the awed look in her eyes from behind her mask, set her apart from the rest.

He took a large gulp of his drink and loosened his tie.

She got closer, and one of the wolves made their move.

As if by an unknown force pulling him forward, he found himself walking up to her, his mind struggling to catch up with his actions as he offered her a way out of the clearly unwanted interaction.

“There you are.” He led her to the seat he had previously occupied and was pleased to find that one of the men had taken flight upon seeing them interact. She sat down and looked up at him curiously, as if wondering why he had saved her from being potentially preyed upon.

“You should be careful,” he said. “Even charity events attract the lecherous. You’re very welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

He knew that voice. The sincerity of the gratitude, tinged with sarcasm at having to reply at all.

She seemed not to have recognized him. He wondered how long it would be before she did. Though the mask concealed some of her features, with his close proximity he was quick to identify her by other things that gave her away, like her high cheekbones and dark tresses she’d pulled into a half-up hairdo and, now, her distinctive voice.

He felt tempted to call her out on it and send her on her way home, but at the same time, he wanted to know where this would go. Revealing what he knew would mean that he wouldn’t get to keep talking to her like this.

And it was a masquerade ball, after all.

[xshatteredreflectionsx]

The time? April First.  

The Place? The office building the Egos had taken over. (Ego HQ? It would always be ‘The League of Extraordinary Weirdos as far as Morgan was concerned.)  

Despite some people fuming about how “they couldn’t just have anyone walking around here” that had never stopped Morgan before. So, when they swept through the halls, whistling a merry tune with two cartons of eggs tucked under their arm, people looked at them funny, but didn’t say anything.  All according to plan.  

The first targets were the Jims. Not because Camera Jim had insisted that Morgan was the “Camera Jim, but Not as Good as Normal Camera Jim” or anything petty like that; never.  Morgan found their quarry in one of the breakrooms connected to the main studio, eating cheese crackers and coloring. Morgan opened one of the two cartons and took aim.  

CONFETTI EGG!

Camera Jim flailed around or a bit as egg shells, glitter, and confetti showered down on him from where it had struck the back of his head.  Morgan cackles as much as someone without a voice could, and continued their wave of brightly-colored spring horror. And they threw a CONFETTI EGG at Bim as he was going over the script for his show, not looking at all pleased. Both because of the script, and the confetti and glitter on his suit.  

CONFETTI EGG!

Another smashed against Silver Shepard’s back as he worked on signing at least a hundred photos of himself and that rhino he fisted once. Because that was the kind of thing people wanted to know about.  

CONFETTI EGG!

Yandere was reading a Magical Girl manga in the “living area” when Morgan casually walked by and dropped one on her head. They stood up, dusted off their spring uniform, and then proceeded to challenge Morgan to a pillow fight. And Morgan was never one to turn down a challenge, so a pillow fight it was!  One that, sadly, Morgan lost. Yandere was surprisingly strong for such a little thing,

“I need to be strong to hide the bodies,” Yandere said casually as they returned to their manga, humming the corresponding anime’s theme song.  

Morgan chose not to question it.  

CONFETTI- Dodge. CONFETTI EG- Dodge. C O N F E T T I-  

“The Host advises Morgan that they only have so many confetti eggs to throw at his co-workers, and that they are wasting them trying to hit him. He also tells them –gently and without malice—that he was aware of this prank long before they even arrived.”

Well, that wasn’t fun. Beaten but not discouraged, Morgan left Host alone to... whatever The Host did whenever he wasn’t in his not-creepy-at-all secluded cabin in the woods.  

MARSHMELLOW PEEPS!

Is what Eric received. Morgan wasn’t a monster; they weren’t going to throw eggs, confetti or otherwise, at Eric.

Derek on the other hand, got eggs. Real eggs. Because he was the worst.

Morgan paused at the door of Darkiplier’s office. Just line the man himself, it flickered and glitched in and out of existence, buzzling and crackling with static and shadows.  It made their ears ring and gave them a headache.  

Taking a breath, Morgan gripped the handle (it felt like grabbing concentrated static electricity), and pushed it open just enough for them to poke their upper body into. Morgan quickly threw a CONFETTI EGG at the Entity behind the large mahogany desk, colorful confetti and glitter just barely standing out against the gloom.  Morgan fluttered their fingers at him before ducking out of the office.  

Well. They hadn’t been pulled into some obscure nightmare dimension. So maybe he took it well?  

The last target on Morgan’s Colorful Confetti Egg Calamity was Wilford Warfstache.  Contrary to Darkiplier, Wilford’s office door was big and flashy, framed in colorful fairy lights and smelling like candy. A large, glittery pink mustache served as the door plate.  Morgan opened the door, egg already in hand.

CONFET-oh crap, that was a cannon.  

Painted bright pink and yellow and decorated with smiley-face stickers, the barrel of a cannon was pointed right at the doorway. Morgan barely had anytime to brace themself before it went off with a loud pop.  

PARTY CANNON!!

Stumbling back from the force of the glitter, steamers, confetti and party poppers. Morgan coughed and sputtered as they tried to wave away the cloud of glitter and smoke, they found themselves trapped in.  A fine layer of glitter settled over Morgan’s... everything as a piece of paper drifted down from the heavens.  

“You'll have to try harder than that, kiddo!” It read, written in pink gel pen and signed with Wilford’s surprisingly curly signature.  Whether the cannon was meant for Morgan or some other poor unfortunate soul, Morgan didn’t know. It honestly could have been for a person none of them had ever even met yet. Or Morgan from the future-parallel-dimension. Or-- Morgan shook their head, shaking free a trail of glitter from their hair. Today wasn’t a day to think too hard about their place in the infinite multiverse.  

They had dropped their cartons of CONFETTI EGGS during the Party Cannon attack, and all but two had cracked open, rendering them useless.  Morgan collected those chosen two, shrugged, and tossed them through Wilford’s still open door. Brushing their hands off, Morgan turned and walked down the hall. Those same two eggs smacked against the back of their head and shoulders.

Okay. So they couldn’t out-prank Wilford Warfstache; but at least they tried. Which was more than what most people would attempt to do, today of all days.  

[dacrethehalls]

Wild Flowers

Summary: Samantha Harrington never expected to spend her entire spring break with Billy Hargrove and Billy Hargrove never expected to fall in love with Samantha Harrington.

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: *RE-POSTED FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT* loosely based on the Chateau music video Dacre is in. credit to Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstine for the quotes in this, and shout out to all my faves who we name dropped in this.

******

"Hey....Emily.....No, Amanda? No-no, it's Laura!" Tommy H. sputtered, leaning against my locker. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my books and balancing against my hip.

"Tommy, we have literally been in the same class since we were seven and you still can't remember my name." I muttered, slamming my locker shut.

"Shit, it's Andy isn't it? Or is it...something that Starts with an R? Or is it a K? Kiki right?"

He could have gone on for hours guessing my name and would still get it wrong. I held up my hand, shaking my head,

"Stop before you hurt yourself. What do you want?" I asked, shifting the weight on my feet.

"Billy is busy today, he said his brother is in town or something and I was going to ask you to-"

"If you finish that sentence with 'ask Steve', I will punch you." I cut off, turning on my heel and strutting towards the parking lot.

"Aw, come on Regan lighten up! " He yelled as he ran to catch up with me.

"That's not my name either." I groaned, "Give it a rest will ya? And last time I checked, you and Steve are not friends...like... at all so go find someone else to blindly follow."

Tommy crossed his arms glaring at me,

"Oh my god. Yes, I'll talk to him."

He smiled at me as I kept walking,

"Thank you, Dot!" He yelled out as I stuck my middle finger in the air.

"That boy really needs to get his own personality." I breathed

I plod out to my car unlocking it,

"Maddie wait!" I let out a defeated groan. "What do you want Keith?"

"Can you cover my shift tonight?"

"I quit The Palace like, three weeks ago." I huffed, leaning on my car.

"And for the last time my name is Samantha. Like the show Bewitched"

"I thought your name was Krista?"

I rolled my eyes, getting in my car driving home.

******

"Not one, but seven. Seven different names Steve. All of which are nowhere close to mine." I grumbled laying across his bed.

"Sammy, relax."

"It's kinda hard to when you have lived in the same town your entire life and nobody can remember your name. Samantha." I drew my name out slowly, "It comes after 'Steve and'."

"Uh so i'm taking Dustin and the others to see a movie tonight. I won't be home until later."

"Way to change the subject, asshole."

"What?"

"I'm telling you that your friends are being pricks to me and you just mention going to the movies with some random kid."

"He's a good kid, Sam."

"Doesn't matter if he's the goddamn president of the United States, I'm telling you that something upsets me and you're blowing me off!"

"Sam, you can't let things like that upset you, okay? Now I gotta go or we'll be late for the showing."

"What I really need is to spend time with my big brother and just forget about this whole stupid thing."

"Maybe later!" He hollered, already out the bedroom door and trotting down the stairs.

I rolled my eyes, rolling onto my stomach and letting out a frustrated groan, blowing the hair away from my face.

Those were always the words I got from Steve when I asked if I could hang out with him; maybe later.

******

The next day at school was the usual, being ignored, people getting my name wrong, including teachers.

I had a nice cry at lunch in my car and ended my day in my favorite spot, a field full of wildflowers outside of the football field.

When the snow started melting away and the temperature went up I would spend my afternoon out there finishing homework and picking the flowers around me. I sat with my legs crossed, a pile of Johnny jump ups and dandelions beside me. I wound the stems together, finding the process relaxing.

"Samantha!" I jerked my head in the direction the voice came from, Billy Hargrove was striding towards me.

"Hi?" I questioned as he reached the blanket I was sitting on,

"Hey, so I was out of school for a few days," he chuckled, pointing at the disappearing bruise under his eye, "Basketball concussion, any way, we have third period chem together and I was wondering if I could copy your notes...and maybe your homework." He asked

Of course the only thing he wanted with me was to use me for my homework. At least he actually knew my name. I'll give him that. I leaned over to my bag, grabbing my chemistry notes handing them to him.

"Do you mind if I sit here with you incase I have questions? I know missing one of Mrs. Valentine's classes really means missing like, five classes. I've missed three so basically I'm fucked."

I chuckled, scooting over on my blanket to make room for him,

"Nah, Mrs. V has been out sick we've had a sub so you haven't missed much."

He offered me a soft smile, pulling his notebook put laying on his stomach, scribbling words on his paper,

"Man, you're pretty thorough, color coded and everything." He noticed, his eyes scanning over the highlighted words and pink gel pen. I hummed in acknowledgement, eyes focusing on the floral stems I held in my lap as I weaved them together.

"Jeez, I may as well just be reading the damn textbook... except at least this shit makes sense." He grumbled as he tapped his pencil against his notepad.

"Yup." I hummed, mindlessly twisting the stems around each other.

I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Billy Hargrove barely gave anybody the time of day, let alone me. Sure, he had his little groupies that followed him around, but they were nowhere in sight. Even Tommy was gone.

"So, uh, you got any spring break plans?" I questioned.

"Not really. My brother is in town, though."

"Billy Hargrove doesn't have any spring break plans?" I gasped, placing my hand over my heart, "What, you aren't going back to bright, sunny California?"

"Pfft, I wish." He scoffed, "Get the hell out of here. It's April and it's still cold!"

"Yeah, that's the midwest for ya." I sighed,

I plopped the flower crown I was weaving on to Billy's head making him break his concentration.

"What's this?" He huffed, poking away his curls from his face as his eyes darted up at me. His brows were knit together in confusion, almost going cross eyed as he attempted to get a walked at what was on his head.

"It's a crown." I beamed, placing the other one I made on my own head, "The purple and yellows in the flowers really bring out the blue in your eyes."

"What kind of hippie bullshit is this?" He questioned, plucking it off of his head and staring at it. Despite his gruff demeanor, I could see the blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Oh, come on. It makes you walked... soft..." I hummed, gently taking it from his grasp and putting it back on his head.

"Soft?" He scoffed.

Of all the things he had ever been described as, it was never soft. He was more likely to hear a string of profanities and slurs directed at him than to be called soft. Hell, I was occasionally known to call him a dickhead every once in a while. Especially after what he did to my brother. I was about ready to take that spiked bat and go after the bastard myself.

"Balances out the black eye, you know? Actually... it kinda matches." I observed, staring at the eerie yellow color that crept under his eye and in towards his nose. A sign that the bruise was healing.

Billy took his crown off once again, setting it next to his notebook.

"Question." I blurted,

Billy hummed as I laid back on the blanket, looking over at him while he continued to scribble notes down.

"How the hell do you know my name?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at me, "I sit behind you in third and sixth period. I see you write it on your paper. Now your last name I don't know."

I let out a loud laugh, sitting up,

"You're kidding me right? Billy, you have to be joking."

The expression on his face led me to believe he was serious,

"Samantha Harrington, otherwise known as The Other Harrington, Steve's Sister, Hey You, Little Harrington, Dakota, Anna, Becca, any and every name that is not remotely close to Samantha." I huffed, blowing a strand of hair away from my eyes.

"You and Steve are siblings?" He pressed.

"He's a whopping 18 months older than me. My parents only wanted one kid, I was an accident. They sorta treat me that way too, the entire town does." I scoffed, rolling my eyes,

"They give me a credit card just so I wont bother them. But I don't use it. I don't need shit from them."

His eyes studied my features, eyebrow still raised as if he expected me to keep talking,

"When I graduate, I'm getting the hell out of Indiana." I sighed, fiddling with the stems of the flowers I had left in my lap.

"I want to travel, live in my car go on fun adventures with my best friend-if I had one. Find a house in a field of flowers. Make as many crowns as I want." I said, placing the flowers once again on Billy's head.

He let a grunt out in defeat as he moved the curls from his eyes once again,

"You know, if you got that cut off, you wouldn't have to keep brushing it out of your eyes." I commented.

"No way in hell I'm cutting this baby off." He replied, smoothing his hand over his hair after taking the crown off again.

I rolled my eyes for what must've been the dozenth time,

"Tommy mentioned something about your brother being in town."

Billy let out a disgusted groan,

"Unfortunately."

"That bad, huh?"

"That bad. He's the favorite son... Star football player, got a scholarship to some school he's way too stupid to attend." Billy griped.

"Does he have a better hair cut? When's the last time you brushed that rats nest?" I questioned, picking up the flower crown and placing it on his head for the hundredth time. Billy grunted in defeat, sitting up.

"According to everyone, he has a better everything then me." Billy rolled his eyes, pulling his cigarettes from his jacket pocket placing one between his lips.

"Bad habit." I scolded, taking it from his mouth and replacing it with a flower.

Billy grunted again, spitting the flower onto the ground as a dragonfly flew over us then zig zagged back, landing on Billy's shoulder. He glanced over at it with a soft expression before moving his shoulder so it would fly away.

"You know dragonflies are often thought to be loved ones coming to visit you after passing away. According to the Native Americans, they bring rejuvenation after hardship." I announced, watching another dragonfly zip past us.

Billy closed his book and sat up, "Thank you, Sam." He yawned, standing up.

"You're welcome, if you ever need my notes again just ask." I chuckled as Billy put another cigarette between his lips.

"I may take you up on that, Sam. Turn the B I have into an A." He laughed as he attempted to light his cigarette, "It's getting dark out, you okay out here by yourself? Or if you want I can walk you out to your car or give you a ride home."

"Thanks, but I might stay out here a little bit longer. The stars are almost out, I like watching them." I mused, earning a raised eyebrow from Billy.

"Okay. well, have a good spring break Sammie. Thanks again." He conceded, rocking back on his heels and heading towards the parking lot.

******

A tap at my window nearly made me jump out of my skin. I spun around in my desk chair, opening the blinds, assuming Steve was an idiot and forgot his key again. To my surprise, a familiar mullet-headed boy offered me a grin and a wave. I glanced over my shoulder to my bedroom door that was still ajar. I rushed over to close it, being careful not to slam it for fear of Steve finding out who was at my window.

I returned to the window sill, unlatching it and throwing it open. I watched as Billy climbed through my window, nearly knocking my glass of water off my night stand.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned.

"You want to travel? Go on an adventure? Let's do it." He panted, adjusting his jacket as he got his footing on the carpet.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Let's just forget about this shitty town and our shitty parents and step out of the shadow of our siblings."

I stared up at him, dumbfounded for a moment, only to notice a new bruise on his cheek. I furrowed my brows,

"Billy. What happened?"

"Don't worry about it, Sammie," He murmured, walking over to my bookshelf glancing at the books, various academic trophies, and my collection of porcelain horses.

He picked up my polaroid camera, pointing it towards me and snapping a picture of me.

"Excuse you!" I exclaimed, trying to snatch the photo out of his hand as he shook it.

"Not a chance, princess."

"Princess." I mumbled under my breath.

He placed the picture in his jacket pocket as he grinned down at me,

"Are you really that desperate to do something over spring break that you want to spend it with me? The other Harrington?" I questioned, crossing my arms.

"Sam, knock it off. You may be a little off your rocker but it's in an endearing way," Billy grinned, lifting the camera up and pointing it at me and getting into the frame as well.

"So what do you say? Hmm? Let's go on an adventure, use up some of mommy and daddy's money. Get out of Indiana or not." He clicked the shutter button, making the camera flash.

He grinned at me, placing that picture in his jacket pocket as well.

This boy was completely crazy, but I knew that Steve would be too preoccupied with the kids that decided he was the best brother figure they could find. He wouldn't even notice that his own flesh and blood sibling was gone. It would also drive Steve up the wall if he found out who I was with.

"Okay. Fine, let's go." I cheered, jumping up and grabbing my bag, packing a bunch of clothes for various occasions. Billy sat on my bed watching as I ran around my room gathering as many things as I could.

"I don't know if Steve is still awake or not so you gotta go back through my window. I'll meet you outside in like ten minutes." I whispered as Billy got up and started climbing out my window.

I shut it behind him, grabbing my bag and heading down the stairs.

"Hey Steve, I'll be home later." I called, walking past him and all his middle schoolers who were all yelling at one another.

Steve threw up a thumb, not even acknowledging me as I pranced out the front door. The thought of getting out of Hawkins sounded more and more appealing. I bumped my bag into Billy's butt, making him turn around.

"There you are." He grinned, taking my bag from my hands.

"We're taking the Camaro."

"No, we're taking Priscilla."

"What the fuck is a Priscilla?"

I grinned, nodding my head to my bright red 1965 Volkswagen Beetle, my baby that I had saved up for and bought myself after turning sixteen.

"I am not riding in that death trap."

"It's okay, Prissy. The mean mullet man didn't mean to call you a death trap. He's just intimidated." I cooed, patting her hood and smirking over at Billy.

"I'm not intimidated." Billy whispered under his breath.

"Then lets go!" I giggled, taking my bag from him and putting it in the back seat.

Billy shook his head, opting not to continue the argument. He grabbed his bag, placing it next to mine.

"You can park your car in the garage."

I pulled out, Billy replacing my spot in the garage with his car. I shut the door as Billy climbed into my car with a grunt.

"So, I didn't think I could actually talk you into doing this since we kinda just met, so I didn't plan this far ahead." Billy admitted, glancing at me.

"It's okay. I know a great place to go to start our adventure."

******

"What the hell is this place?"

"Some boujee country club my parents used to belong to." I replied, "It's disgustingly expensive."

"Then what exactly are we doing here?" He replied, raising an eyebrow at me.

"We're getting a room for the night. For free."

"For free? Yeah, right." He scoffed.

"You think I can't do it? What with my Harrington charm?" I drawled, twirling a strand of hair around my finger.

He rolled his eyes at me,

"Tell you what, let's make a bet." I proposed.

"Now you've got my attention."

I pursed my lips, humming to myself as I thought of what our wager should be,

"If we get in... you have to get your mullet cut off."

"Hey! No way in hell!"

"What, you worried that I'm right?"

"No." He scoffed.

"Then what's your wager if you win?"

"Priscilla." He smirked.

"You got a deal."

His smirk dropped as he realized that I had the confidence to bet my car, my baby. He knew he was getting that haircut.

"Come on, blondie!" I called as I skipped up to the front of the club.

Billy and I both wondered to the front doors, inside a fountain trickled in the background and the pristine white tiles reflected the lights from the ceiling.

"Welcome, how can we help you?" The woman behind the front desk greeted. "Hello, I'm Samantha..Harring...rove.. uh Hargrove," I chirped, glancing up at Billy who looked at me with shock, "And this is my Husband.....Billy." I snaked my arm through his, leaning my head on his shoulder hugging him into my side.

He put on an unconvincing fake grin, flashing it at the woman,

"My parents had a membership here and Billy and I are newly weds. They gifted us a membership under their names." I chided.

"Yes ma'am! What are your parents' names?"

"Timothy and Patricia Harrington."

The lady's head shot up at the sound of my parents names.

"I didn't know Timmy and Trish had a daughter! I thought Steve was their only child." She beamed as I dug my nails into Billy's arm.

He cleared his throat, slightly nudging me in an attempt to get me to loosen my grip,

"You know, your parents said this place was nice, but I hear there's a much better place upstate. Maybe we should cancel the membership and head up their instead."

"If you stay here, all of our newly weds get complimentary room service." The woman offered, startled by Billy's suggestion to take our money elsewhere.

"That sounds nice, doesn't it, sweetheart?" I encouraged.

He gave me a nod, letting out a sigh of relief when I retracted my nails from his skin.

"You'll be staying in suite 315, it's between the gym and the indoor heated pool." She instructed, pointing out the window behind her.

"Thank you." I cheered enthusiastically.

"Congrats!" She called after us as we stepped back outside. Billy pulled his arm from mine,

"I think you made me bleed." He commented, staring down at the half moon marks on the inside of his arm.

"Don't be such a baby." I retorted, going to the door of our room and shoving the key in the lock.

I let out a sigh of relief as the chilled air from the room hit me in the face. The bed was enormous, covered in crisp, white sheets with the logo of the club embroidered into them with green thread. Billy trailed in behind me, throwing his bag down on the floor by the bedside table. I slipped off my shoes, immediately hopping off the floor and landing face first on the bed.

"They're so soft!" I exclaimed, voice muffled by the sheets against my skin.

Billy laid on his side beside me, reading off the menu of the country club's overpriced restaurant,

"On tonight's dinner menu we have pacific caviar and braised lamb with whipped garlic parmesan mashed spuds." He mocked in the most obnoxious, rich old lady accent I had ever heard. And I had heard my fair share of obnoxious rich old ladies at my parent's stupid dinner parties, "Darling, I heard the wine selection is to dieeee for." I rolled over, flicking my wrist while holding my hand over my heart.

"How about we just order a pizza and go for drinks later at that bar we passed. Maybe do some golf cart races?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. But first we have to do something with that rats nest on that head of yours." I smirked, running my fingers in his curls.

Billy swatted my hand away, turning his head to glare at me.

"The mullet stays," he mumbled.

"But my dear husband, remember the bet we made in the car? The one where if I could actually get us a room here you would cut your hair." I giggled, tapping his nose.

"It's never going to happen. I don't remember shaking on that deal." He grunted.

"You lost fair and square buddy. Say bye bye to the mullet."

******

I smirked as Billy strolled out of the salon, his mullet was gone and replaced by a clean shave in the back and his natural curls still up front.

He looked even more handsome than before. I let out a whistle letting, him know I liked it.

"It looks like shit," He objected, crossing his arms.

"No it doesn't. Now come on, there's a club here we can go to. We'll have a few drinks then go back to the room and order pizza." I hummed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the club.

"This place is obnoxious." Billy cringed, peering around at all the random couples spread throughout the bar.

"It's a country club. It's supposed to be obnoxious." I chimed, pulling Billy to a table and sitting down at it.

We ordered a few drinks and a appetizer as we people watched the rich folk around us.

The beginning of the song from Dirty Dancing started blasting through the speakers, making me gasp. I turned my gaze over to Billy with a big grin on my face.

I didn't even have to say a damn word,

"No."

"Come on please, I've always wanted to do it. Billy PLEASE!" I begged as I started swaying my hips along to the song.

I danced around his chair as he watched me with a deadpan expression,

"You're the one thing I can't get enough of!" I belted.

"No."

"AND I OWE IT ALL TO YOUUUUU." I sang as Billy groaned, standing up and walking away from me.

"Oh, come on! Where are you going?" I laughed as I kept dancing

"Are we going to do this or not?"

I let out a loud squeal, causing the people around to stare at us.

I started singing at the top of my lungs, walking towards Billy grabbing his hand as we started to twist back and forth along to the song.

"This will never happen again," He gibbed as I twirled around him.

"This is our first dance as husband and wife. We had to make it memorable." I quipped, doing a boogie away from him as the song built up. I kept swaying back and forth before running towards Billy and jumping as he caught me by the hips, lifting me above his head.

I crossed my legs, putting my arms out, smiling knowing that Jennifer Grey would be so proud.

I smiled down at Billy who had a huge shit eating grin plastered across his face. He placed me back on my feet, pulling me closer to him as we kept dancing.

"Ahem, Mr. and Mrs Hargrove, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the club for tonight. You are disrupting the rest of the customers."

Billy and I glanced over at the waiter, busting out in laughter as we ran out of the bar. "People don't know how to have a good time anymore." I groaned as we stumbled into the lobby.

Billy grabbed my hand, pulling me over to the grand piano in the corner.

"I noticed your keyboard in your room. You play?" He asked, sitting on the bench.

He cracked his knuckles, wiggling his fingers before pressing them on the keys, playing the beginning of Claire De Lune.

I glanced at him from my peripheral, pressing my fingers on the keys, playing along with him. "Been playing since I was seven. Rode my bike to my lessons every week."

Billy bit down on his lip before the corners of his mouth turned up.

"I think I started lessons at seven too."

"Who knew the Billy Hargrove has a thing for Debussy and ivory keys." I praised.

He swayed along to the music we were producing together,

"Ahem."

We both turned our heads over at the person behind the desk who was pointing at the giant sign behind us stating that the piano was not to be touched.

"Oops." I giggled, standing up, "Let's go back to our room before we get into more trouble."

"Nah, I'm sure we can find some more trouble we can get into." Billy chirped, standing up. We both shuffled outside and around the country club before coming up to a closed off section.

"You ever crash a wedding before?" I smirked, eyeing Billy as he lit a cigarette.

"Bad habit!" I scolded, taking the stick out of his mouth and replacing it with the pendant from his necklace.

"Will you stop that!" He grunted, taking the cigarette back from me, "We are not crashing somebody's wedding."

We continued our walk around the courtyard, coming across a golf cart. We both looked at each other than made a mad dash to the vehicle

Billy slid me over to the passenger side before climbing in the driver's side, pressing his foot all the way down on the gas pedal.

He drove off the sidewalk turning the wheel sharply making golf cart whip around in a circle.

Before long, the security guards pulled us over, screaming at us to stop and pointing at more signs stating boring rules for the boring people who actually paid money to stay at this place.

We laughed all the way back to the hall leading to our suite,

"Tonight was fun." Billy cackled as we walked into our suite.

"Yeah it was. I'll take the bed. Is the couch okay with you?" I questioned as Billy pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor and falling face first onto the couch.

"Mmhmm." He hummed.

"Good night, Billy." I whispered throwing a blanket over him.

He let out another soft hum.

"Good night, Sammie."

******

The next morning, I woke up and went down to the travel desk in the lobby, setting up all the things I needed to to surprise Billy with a small trip to California.

I tiptoed into the living room and over to the couch, shaking Billy slightly. "Wake up sleepyhead. Check out is in an 45 minutes and our flight leaves in an hour."

Billy grunted, lifting his head to walked at me.

"Did you just say flight?" He grumbled, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Sure did. The in-laws bought us round trip tickets to California for the next two days." I beamed as Billy sat straight up, looking at me.

"Did you really buy tickets to go to Cali? Sam, you're shitting me."

Billy climbed over the couch, picking me up hugging me to him. "Thank you Sammie!"

I leaned in kissing Billy's nose, causing him jump a little from shock,

"Come on and get dressed!" I trilled, pushing him toward the bathroom.

******

The flight was longer than I expected it to be. Once we landed in California, I picked up the car I had rented. I eyed Billy who about fell on the ground when the blue convertible Corvette was brought to us. "That's the car you decided to rent!?" He exclaimed, almost drooling over it.

"Mmhm," I hummed, throwing my bag in the back seat and then climbing in the front.

"You know where the Chateau Marmont is?" I questioned, smiling at him.

"Did you get us a room there?" His eyes grew wide.

"Nah, it was too expensive, even for my parents. I booked a hotel overlooking the beach."

Once we got settled into the hotel, both of us were starving. We ventured out, finding some Mexican restaurant that Billy started raving about.

The food was decent and not too expensive but it wasn't like I was afraid of my parents finding out about me spending the amount of money I had in the past few days. They didn't care as long as I didn't bother them.

"Hey!" Billy yelled, catching up to me. "Uh..um.. I got you this," He panted, placing a heart shaped ring into my hand.

I examined it, smiling up at him, "Tanzanite, the December birthstone has energy for emotional healing from all worries. It brings happiness." I informed.

"Yeah..okay. I uh, just found a quarter on the ground and put it in a gumball machine. I mean, you're my wife and I didnt even give you a ring so." He grinned, gesturing to the ring.

"See, tanzanite brings happiness." I beamed as I slipped the ring on my left hand.

"So, does your mom live here?" I questioned as we made our way down the street.

"No. She passed away a while back." He sighed, a frown forming on his face.

"I'm sorry for your loss. You two were close?"

He nodded

"My mother was my best friend, she was a phenomenal woman. I never understood what she ever saw in my dad, he's a shit person." He chided through clenched teeth.

"Does he do this to you?" I asked, lightly touching the yellowing on his skin. He ignored me, walking ahead of me getting into the car.

"He does doesn't he? Are you going to be okay when we go back to Indiana?"

"Yes, Sam, I'll be okay." He retorted as we drove off into the direction of the hotel.

"Are you sure? If you ever need a place to stay you are we-"

"I'm fine Sam. Drop it." He snapped, cutting me off.

"Billy Hargrove is that you?!" Billy's head snapped to the car beside us at the red light we were stopped at.

"Sure is." He chortled, pulling his sunglasses down to his nose.

"Are you back for good?" The guy asked.

Billy shook his head "Nah, my....Sam and I came here for our spring break. We're leaving tomorrow night."

The guy in the car frowned as the light turned green.

"There's a party tonight at Olivia's place! Better see you there!" The boy yelled, driving off.

Billy's eyes lit up as he glanced over at me.

"Party tonight?" He questioned.

I pursed my lips together, rolling my eyes,

"Do we have to?" I groaned.

"Yes, I haven't seen these people in a long time!"

No matter how hard I tried to change Billy's mind, he wouldn't budge. And that's how I ended up at a party full of people I didn't know, sitting next to a Pug named Joe. Not exactly my ideal way of spending my first time in California. But I could tell that Billy missed his friends so I tried my best not to complain.

Music blared through the house as random teens danced around to Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne. I pushed past the crowd, finding Billy talking to some random girl by the keg as he poured himself another beer.

I was never a partier, when my brother dated Nancy Wheeler, she would always make him take me to parties. Most of the time it would end with me walking home or me hitching a ride from Jonathan Byers who hated parties as much as I did.

I stood next to Billy, nudging him with my elbow, frowning at him nodding my head towards the gate we had walked through when we arrived to the party.

"Sam, it's a party go have fun. Go drink." Billy shooed at me with his solo cup.

I rolled my eyes, walking towards the beach, digging my toes in the sand once I set foot on the grain surface. I plucked a few evening primrose from the steps, placing the stems into my plaited hair as I continued further down to the water. The booming music became more and more distant.

The beach was beautiful, and the California sunset even more so. What everyone considered a beach in Hawkins didn't even compare to this.

I took my time walking along the shore, picking up only the best shells and pieces of sea glass.

"Why aren't you at the party?" I heard a voice from behind me, I recognized it, so I didn't bother to look up,

"What're you doing?" He asked, watching as I scooped a sand dollar off the sand before the tide could pull it back in, "Collecting shells?"

"She sells seashells by the sea shore," I chirped, offering Billy the sand dollar. He rolled his eyes, taking it from me and throwing it into the ocean.

"Hey!" I hissed, crossing my arms.

"God dammit, Samantha can you not be weird for once? You're embarrassing me in front of my friends."

"I don't see anyone but us around," I shrugged, reaching into the water and picking up another shell.

"Sam. Please. Just pretend to be normal." He begged, reaching for the flowers woven into my braid and pulling them out.

"Excuse you!" I yelled, smacking his hands away, "Go party with your friends. I'll be okay by myself. Always have been." I fumed.

"I'm not leaving you out here alone. Just come back to the party, pretend to be normal and we'll come to the beach tomorrow."

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

"Are you really quoting Dr. Seuss? This is the shit im talking about. Normal people don't quote Dr. Seuss."

"If normal people don't quote Dr. Seuss, how do you know it's a Dr. Seuss quote?" I replied, and that was as close to a rebuttal as he was going to get from me tonight. I wasn't about to get dragged in to a Billy Hargrove argument. Especially not on spring break.

Billy continued to follow me as I kept examining shells and placing them into my pockets.

"Somebody has to go polish the stars, They're looking a little bit dull. Somebody has to go polish the stars, For the eagles and starlings and gulls have been complaining they're tarnished and worn, They say they want new ones we cannot afford. So please get your rags and your polishing jars, Somebody has to go polish the stars." I beamed, spinning in a small circle, kicking some water up at Billy.

He let out a frustrated groan,

"Harrington, you are really starting to piss me off." He snarled, grabbing my arm, "God, you're acting just like your brother." He snapped, "No wonder nobody bothers to get to know both of you, you're the same person."

I couldn't remain neutral any longer, I yanked my arm from his grasp and gave him a shove backward before turning on my heels and strutting back the way I came.

"Where the hell are you going?" He hollered.

I resisted the urge to turn around and scream back in his face as well as the urge to reach up to wipe the tears that had started to fall onto my cheek. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt me. My attempt at escape was thwarted when he ran up behind me, grabbing my wrist and spinning me around to face him,

"Let go of me, Billy." I hissed, straining against his grasp.

He gripped onto me with white knuckles,

"Not until you tell me where the hell you're going."

"Away from you." I spat.

"I'm not letting you leave here by yourself."

"You don't own me, you don't get to decide what I can and can't do."

"You're out here with me, I'm responsible for you."

"I'm responsible for myself, always have been. Find your own way home, asshole." I tore myself from his grasp, turning my back on him and making my way back to the car we rented, climbing in.

******

I drove around for at least two hours before heading back to the hotel. I knew that eventually the asshole known as Billy Hargrove would make an appearance, taking place of the boy I had been around for the past few days.

I figured it was from him being vulnerable with me and opening up to me about his father and mother. But the loss of his best friend and the fear of his father gave him no right to treat me or any other person that tries to get close with him the way he treats them.

I grew up almost raising myself, in a semI neglectful home with a vain mother, an absent father, a star athlete and a favorite brother. And that made me angry. That my own flesh and blood never took the time to come to my piano recitals, or come cheer me on for any academic achievement.

Hell, I doubt anyone in my family even knew that I was graduating a year early. I was counting down the days to graduation. I would be my own person, I would travel to places and do things that my brother would be too scared or stupid to do.

I opened the door to our hotel room to find Billy slumped on the couch asleep. I went over to him, taking his boots off and covering him up with a blanket.

"You're back." He grumbled, half asleep.

"Mmhm. Go back to sleep." I whispered, setting a glass of water on the table next to him then walking to the room, shutting the door.

******

I woke up the next morning to Billy shaking my arm. "Hey...Um I'm sorry about last night."

"I only accept apologies from assholes when there are pancakes involved." I grumbled, pulling the covers over my head.

"Sam..." Billy whined. I felt the bed shift as he sat next to me, resting his hand in the curve of my waist,

"Go away." I objected, kicking at his butt and wiggling out from under his touch.

A small chuckle left Billy's lips as he moved the covers from my head, "I really can't take you seriously when you're mad." He laughed.

I glared at him,

"You're a jerk. Get me pancakes and then we'll talk."

"Get up and get dressed. I'll take you to the best pancake place in town."

I wandered out of my room, passing Billy who was sitting on the counter with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Are you really not going to talk to me until I feed you?" Billy asked as he followed me into the elevator. I glared over at him angrily, not breaking our eye contact, pressing the button that would take us to the lobby.

"Sammie..."

I crossed my arms, examining the tiles of the elevator floor.

"I know.. I'm an ass okay? I'm sorry for what I said, you're nothing like Steve and it's a goddamn shame that nobody in that shit stain of a town doesn't see you as Samantha. You're crazy and quote Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein as a means to fight. You always know what to say and the right time to say it. I didn't mean anything I said last night."

My head still faced the opposite from where Billy was standing. I uncrossed my arms, reaching down grabbing Billy's hand.

"You're still an asshole" I asserted,

I could feel him relax underneath my touch. I glanced over at him, he was staring at me, cigarette still hanging from his mouth.

"Bad habit." I jeered, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and replacing it with a lollipop I found on the floor of the elevator.

Billy took the lollipop out of his mouth, dropping it to the floor gagging. "Gross!" "Still better than the cancer stick." I retorted, crossing my arms again and staring him down.

"You're an asshole." I repeated, skipping out of the elevator and outside to our car.

"These are some of the best pancakes you will ever have." Billy hummed as he started the car, heading in the direction of the diner he was taking us to.

He was right. They were some of the best pancakes I had ever had.

"So are you going to talk to me now?" Billy questioned, reaching for my hand and interlocking our fingers.

"I told you I would once you fed me." I quipped, pushing my plate away with my free hand.

"I'm truly sorry about last night Sam. I shouldn't have forced you to go to the party and expect you to want to stick around. And I'm really, really sorry for comparing you to Steve. You're not like him at all."

I squeezed his hand, peering up at him.

"You're an asshole. But, I forgive you."

******

Billy and I sat in comfortable silence on the car ride home from the airport. I couldn't help but have this feeling that once we got home and went our separate ways that Billy would go back to his friends and I'd go back to my flowers. Despite him profusely apologizing over our fight on the beach, I feared that he would go back to being his asshole self and only talk to me when he needed notes- maybe even to get under Steve's skin by being around me.

I pushed my feet up in the dash as Billy silently hummed to himself, tapping on the steering wheel.

"What's going to happen on Monday?" I questioned, peering over at him, "The past few days have been...amazing to say the least but once school starts back, are we going back to Billy Hargrove the king of Hawkins and The Other Harrington."

I started to nervously fidget with the ring Billy had given me, twisting it around my finger.

Billy reached over, grabbing my hand and squeezing it "When school starts back on Monday, I'll be Billy and you will be Samantha. I know im an ass, but I won't pretend this trip didn't happen, that I don't love you."

I turned my head at him in surprise over the fact that he just admitted that he loved me.

"Sammie, you make me less pissed. Not... not pissed, but I feel like I use to before I lost my mom."

"I saved that flower crown you gave me. It's in a box under my bed next to a flower crown she made for me on my fifteenth birthday."

Billy brought the back side of my hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on it.

"You promise?" I asked hesitantly. He sighed, pulling over on the side of the road.

"Sam, I'm not sure if you heard me the first time, but I'm in love with you. You somehow talked me into getting a haircut,-"

"You lost a bet and those were the stipulations." I corrected, earning an eye roll from him.

"I cut my hair for you, and I opened up to you about my father. And told you about the only other person that I knew that was as kind and loving as you are. It was a no brainer that I would fall in love with you. I just didn't expect it to happen as fast as it did."

I leaned over, kissing his cheek,

"You are an asshole with I really nice hair cut. I love you too, Billy Hargrove." I reached over, turning the volume up as the guitar riff to Highway to Hell blasted through the cars speakers. I started dancing along to the beat beckoning Billy to get out of Priscilla and join me on the side of the road.

Billy laughed, getting out grabbing me by my waist as we started dancing together. We danced and twirled around to the music, singing along to the words together.

Billy placed his hand on the small of my back, pulling me closer to him as his other hand snaked behind my neck, bringing my lips to his.

"So, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to go get dinner later? But not like friend dinner...uh like a date? And you be my girlfriend." He babbled.

I chuckled, kissing his nose,

"You're cute when you're nervous. Hasn't this week been one long date?" I questioned, intertwining my fingers with his.

Billy leaned in, his head resting it on mine. "I don't want to go home." He confessed, opening his eyes looking down at me.

"We have to go back to reality. And when graduation comes around, we'll pick back up where we left off, travel the world together forget about Indiana."

I twirled around Billy's fingers before wrapping my arms around his neck.

"So now I'm included in this adventure?"

"You are my husband, you kinda have to go with me." I retorted, resting my head on his shoulder as the song slowly came to an end.

Billy wrapped his arms tighter around me, placing a kiss on top of my head.

"Back to reality."

I pulled up in front of the Hargrove household, glancing over at Billy who was almost as pale as a ghost. "I'm going in there with you."

"No you're not. Sammie you are safe out here."

"But you aren't safe in there." I retorted, getting out of my car.

"He won't do anything to you in front of a stranger." I added, reaching down for his hand. We walked into his house to find what looked to be his father and brother sitting on the couch watching whatever game was playing on the television.

Both men drew their attention to the door. Billy's father glared at both of us his arms crossing over one another.

"Where the hell have you been?" He snarled, standing up from his recliner.

"Uh...um," Billy sputtered.

I squeezed his hand trying to give him reassurance as Neil turned his focus from his son to me.

"You were off doing God knows what with this whore weren't you?!" Neil boomed, not breaking eye contact with me.

"Um.. uh."

"That's not an answer, Billy."

I groaned,

"Yes, Mr. Hargrove he was with me. We went to my parents country club and then flew to California for a few days. It was a lot of fun. I found a lot of pretty shells. I see where Billy gets being an asshole from." I exclaimed as Billy's hand tightened against mine.

"I want you out of my house!" Neil howled, taking a step toward Billy and I. Billy instinctively took a step in front of me.

"You want me out? Fine."

Billy pushed past Neil, heading the direction of his bedroom, me following behind. He grabbed the remainder of his clothes from his closet, stuffing it in trash bags. I reached under his bed, grabbing a shoebox with his mother's name scribbled across it

"Can't forget your flower crowns." I whispered, sitting the box on the bed, helping Billy grab all of his belongings.

"You have nowhere to go." Neil laughed, standing in the doorway and crossing his arms.

"My house is big. He can live with me." I retorted, stepping in front of Neil, blocking his view of Billy the best I could.

"And your parents are going to be okay with that?" Neil challenged.

"I don't think it's any of your business how my parents react to Billy coming to stay with me."

Billy walked over to me with the trashbags full of his belongings.

"He isn't your concern anymore. You can fuck off." I spat, reaching back for Billy's wrist and bumping my shoulder into Neill as we walked in the the hallway.

"You'll be back after this slut gets tired of you." Neil yelled following after us. I stopped turning to face him.

"I can assure you, that I won't get tired of him. We got married when we were in Cali." I chortled, flashing my left hand up at him.

"Like I said, Billy isn't your concern anymore." I lifted my middle finger up at Neil as Billy pulled me out of the house and out to the car.

******

"Steve isn't going to be happy," I mumbled, pulling into my driveway.

Billy let out a small laugh, leaning over kissing my cheek. I faced him with a stern expression,

"Please be nice. I'll handle all the talking." I stressed, squeezing his hand. I placed a quick kiss on his lips before stepping out of Priscilla

"Where the fuck have you been, Samantha?" Steve gripped, walking out of our house and crossing his arms.

Billy slowly got out of Priscilla, walking around to stand behind me.

"Let me rephrase that, where the fuck have you been with Billy Hargrove." Steve seethed.

"California." I stated as a matter of factly.

"California!?" Steve blurted, his jaw dropping, "What did you do to her, Hargrove, kidnap her?!"

"He's my friend...boy," I said as Billy intertwined our fingers, "Err my boyfriend."

"Since when?"

"Since this morning."

"Sam, you don't socialize you go to school and come home."

I rolled my eyes, opening my mouth to say something only to be cut off by Steve,

"How do you two even know each other? God Samantha, leave it up to you to become friends with the biggest asshole in school. Do you even remember what happened to me in October?"

Billy stood between us placing a hand on Steve's chest. Steve quickly stepped away from Billy's touch, "Man, I know we have our issues. And I'm sorry for everything I've done to you." He began.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow and shifting his weight onto his heels, "But I actually give a shit about Sammie. And nobody appreciates her damn near as much as she deserves." Billy mused, glancing down at me.

"Stop acting like you care, Steve." I grumbled under my breath.

"You're my baby sister, of course I care."

"Really? Do you even care enough to know that most of your friends don't even know my name?" I fired back.

"What're you talking about?"

"In fact, most people don't even know my name. Not just your friends. And you know who did? Billy. You know who came and talked to me without prefacing it with 'can you tell Steve'? Billy." I defended, "He actually talks to me like I'm a real person and not just a means to get to you."

"Are you sure that isn't what this is? A means to get to me?"

"Is it really that hard for you to believe that somebody cares about me?"

"I find it hard to believe that Billy Hargrove cares about you."

Billy dropped my hand from his grasp, balling up his fist. I stepped ahead of him, blocking his path if he decided to make a move.

"Somebody has to! Mom and dad sure don't. And you're too busy running off with a bunch of middle schoolers who you call your siblings to pay attention to your actual younger sister!"

"Sam, this isn't about mom or dad or me or them!"

"Bullshit it isn't!" I snapped, "My entire fucking life I've been walking around in your shadow and I'm goddamn sick of it!"

"How many times have I told you that people don't know my name? How many times have I said that kids I've known my whole life, gone through kindergarten with, don't know my name? All I am is Little Harrington or The Other Harrington. I'm not Samantha. I'm not my own fucking person. And that's on you, Steve!"

"How is it on me that you don't do anything to get attention?"

I could faintly hear a rumble in Billy's chest,

"Because you've never taken me seriously! Never stood up for me when I needed you to. Steve, I needed you to be my big brother and protect me and you didn't!"

Steve opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I cut him off,

"Go take care of the rest of your 'little siblings' hope you don't let them down like you did to me." I snarled.

Billy went back over to Priscilla, grabbing my bag from the car and following behind me.

"I don't think so. You are not going into my house." Steve said, grabbing his arm.

"Fuck you, Steve." I spat as Billy yanked his arm from my brother's grasp.

They squared up with each other, chest to chest. Neither of them particularly wanted to get into a fight, especially not in front of me. I intertwined my fingers with Billy's and took him inside with me.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Dustin asked as the other kids stood up in defense.

"Ask your older brother, he seems to be pretty open with you guys." I sneered, pulling Billy up to my room.

I shut the door behind us, leaning back on it and letting myself cry.

"Hey, hey, hey, baby, no." Billy comforted, pressing his forehead to mine. "No crying." He cupped my face in his hands, making me look at him

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

I smiled softly at him as he kissed me,

"Normal people don't quote Dr. Seuss." I sassed, wiping my face with the back side of my hand.

"Well, as it turns out, I'm not as normal as you think."

******

Monday I could feel every single eye on me. The worst part of living in a small town was word got around fast.

"Christy, is it true you and Billy Hargrove robbed a bank over spring break?"

I rolled my eyes as I shut my locker door,

"No, it's not true." I grunted, walking past Carol and into Chemistry. A smile spread across Billy's face as I walked down the row of desks and took my usual seat at the one in front of him. He leaned forward in his desk, pressing a kiss to my cheek,

"I missed you," He whispered, placing another kiss on my shoulder.

"Two whole periods without me, how did you live!?" I exclaimed,

"It's not like you didn't just move in with me." I joked, leaning my head back so it was laying on his desk.

Billy chuckled, leaning forward connecting our lips together, earning various grunts and sighs from some of the girls in our class room.

By lunch people were well aware of Billy's status. People know knew who I was and who I was dating. But they still intentionally called me some random name.

Most of them probably figured that it got under my skin, so why would they stop?

"Sammie, are you okay?" Billy asked as we walked into the lunchroom together.

"Yeah, I'm just not used to being this...well known. And people are now purposely calling me different names." I sighed as I grabbed a juice and a banana in the lunch line.

"Mr. Hargrove, your new haircut looks wonderful!" Edna, the lunch lady chirped.

"Doesn't it?" I questioned, running my hand in his hair.

Billy rolled his eyes, swatting my hand away before paying for both of our lunches.

"Oh! Miss Hayley! Will you please tell Steve he still owes us money from before spring break."

I grinned at her, knowing that she didn't mean any harm by calling me the wrong name, unlike the rest of the school.

"Sure thing, Edna."

I followed behind Billy as we both sat at the lunch table with Tommy H. and Carol.

"Nicole are you lost?" Tommy H grimaced as I sat next to Billy. "No, I'm not." I mumbled. "Then why are you sitting here? Last I checked you weren't popular." Carol snorted.

The walked on Billy's face made me think he was about to kill everyone around him.

"Knock it off both of you. Samantha is my girlfriend." Billy chided.

"Ew, why would you want to date Kayla?" Tommy sneered, giving me a disgusted look "You know she's Steve's sister, right?"

In a flash Billy flew across the table, throwing his fist into Tommy's face. He then climbed on the table, placing his pinkies in his mouth and whistling.

"Just so we are all on the same page, This girl has a name, and It's Samantha. She's my girlfriend...Samantha Harrington is my girlfriend. If I hear anyone call her The Other Harrington or anything that is not Sam, or Samantha, one more time, you will really be wishing you didn't." He threatened, "Now what is my girlfriends name?"

In unison, the entire lunchroom sang out my name. I could feel my cheeks grow warm. I knew for a fact I was as red as a tomato.

"And if any of you mess with her? You'll deal with me," He yelled as one of the coaches marched over, pulling Billy off the table and escorting him out of the cafeteria.

I cleared my throat, poking at my plate as Tommy climbed back back up to the table, holding his bleeding nose.

"The chicken is really good today isn't it?"

******

The week was long and uneventful, and by Friday not only did everyone- including teachers knew my name, they also came up to me apologizing- something I'm sure was Billy's doing.

I didn't hate this new found fame but I didn't love it either. Billy made an ass out of himself at lunch, landing him a weeks worth of detention. So every day I would go sit in the field, making 2 floral crowns while I waited for Billy to get out of his detainment.

"How was detention?" I asked as Billy plopped down on the blanket next to me ,taking my floral crown from my head and placing it on his own.

"To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world." Billy sang, kissing my cheek.

"Quoting Dr. Seuss again are we?" I sassed.

"I love you," He uttered as a dragonfly flew by landing on my nose.

I chuckled, shaking my head startling the bug away.

"Looks like your mom loves me too."

Billy smirked, pressing his lips onto mine before stretching out onto the blanket, placing his head on my lap, staring up at me with the utmost adoration.

It didn't matter anymore to me that people got my name wrong, or how I would become a distant memory after graduation,

The soft boy with a hard exterior had the free spirited girl with a love for wildflowers.

We had each other, we made each other shine.

And that's all that matters.

[fmimogen]

hello  cool  cats  .  my  friends  ,  my  buddies  ...  it  is  i  ,  dab  ,  once  again  with  another  muse  .  i  also  write  the  resident  bitch  ,  giovanni  ,  so  if  we  haven’t  plotted  on  him  yet  .  i’m  suing  DJISAJODS  .  anyways  ,  under  the  cut  ,  u  can  find  some  info  about  my  baby  ,  imogen  .  she’s  an  old  muse  of  mine  that  i  haven’t  written  in  a  while  ,  so  pls  excuse  the  dust  hehe  .  as  always  ,  i  would  LOVE  to  plot  with  every  single  one  of  you  ,  so  smash  that  like  button  ,  and  i  will  come  runnin  !

new york’s very own IMOGEN CARNAVALE was spotted on broadway street in balenciaga triple s sneakers . your resemblance to ariana grande is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc ,  you’ve been labeled as being brash , but also quick-witted . i guess being an aquarius explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be glowy stars on the ceiling , sparkling champagne , and signing documents with a bright pink gel pen  . 

╰  *  MINI STATS  !

FULL NAME  :  imogen  diana  carnavale  

NICKNAME(S)  :  gen  /  gin  ,  immy  

AGE  :  twenty - four

GENDER  +  PRONOUNS   :  cis  female  +  she  /  her

ORIENTATION  :  bisexual   /   biromantic  (  pref  for  women  )

ZODIAC  :  aquarius sun  ,  scorpio  rising  ,  aquarius  moon  

BIRTHDAY  :  february  1st  ,  1996

PLACE  OF  BIRTH  :  new  york  city  ,  new  york  ,  usa  

LOVE  LANGUAGE  :  quality  time  

OCCUPATION(S)  :  technology  entrepreneur  ,  coo  of  spacex  ,  socialite  

DRINKING  /  DRUGS  /  SMOKING  :  yes  /  sometimes  /  only  weed

TRAITS  :  brash  ,  honest  ,  cutthroat  ,  a  boss  bitch  ,  erudite  ,  quick-witted  ,  eloquent  ,  confident  ,  charming  ,  logical  ,  rational  ,  a  little  cold  ,  unattainable  ,  ambitious  ,  inconsiderate  ,  selfish  ,  captivating  ,  imaginative  

LIFE  GOAL  :  successfully  send  someone  to  mars  

╰  *  BACKGROUND  INFO  !

manhattan  ,  new  york  city  has  been  the  home  of  the  carnavale  family  ever  since  imogen’s  great  great  grandparents  immigrated  from  italy  .  imogen  wouldn’t  have  it  any  other  way  .  though  nowadays  ,  she  spends  her  time  drifting  back  and  forth  between  washington  dc  and  nyc  . 

ever  since  she  first  opened  her  eyes  on  february  1st  ,  1996  ,  her  family  knew  she  was  special  .  besides  being  born  into  a  family  of  great  wealth  from  aristocratic  roots  and  lucky  investing  and  stock  trading  ,  she  was  a  curious  and  talkative  baby  ,  always  babbling  nonsense  and  looking  at  the  world  with  wide  eyes  ,  never  quite  getting  enough  of  it  all

it  became  clear  very  early  on  that  the  rest  of  the  world  thought  she  was  special  too  ---  prodigious  ,  if  you  will  .  she  began  speaking  in  full  sentences  early  on  ,  and  would  later  be  moved  up  many  grades  because  the  schooling  was  far  too  easy  for  her  .  she  was  one  of  those  kids  you  hear  about  on  the  news  occasionally  ---  twelve  years  old  and  getting  accepted  to  a  prestigious  university  .

her  parents  never  put  any  pressure  on  her  to  be  like  this  ,  no  .  they  supported  her  endlessly  ,  and  made  sure  she  had  all  the  love  in  the  world  as  she  pursued  her  dreams  .  imogen  relished  in  it  all  .  she  loves  learning  ,  and  she’ll  never  stop  .  she’s  curious  and  imaginative  to  this  day  ,  always  asking  questions  ;  always  trying  to  figure  things  out  .

she  obtained  her  bachelor’s  degree  in  physics  when  she  was  fifteen  ,  and  went  on  to  obtain  her  master’s  in  astrophysics  when  she  was  eighteen  years  old  . 

obviously  ,  this  garnered  a  lot  of  attention  in  that  community  ,  and  when  she  started  her  doctoral  program  ,  there  was  quite  a  lot  of  pressure  being  put  on  her  ,  and  for  the  first  time  ,  she  was  painfully  aware  of  it  .  her  parents  still  supported  her  and  cherished  her  ,  yes  ,  but  she  was  under  the  watchful  guise  of  big  names  in  astro - technology  .  it  was  something  she’d  never  dealt  with  before  ,  and  when  she’d  show  off  her  research  and  they  weren’t  impressed  ,  she  completely  cracked  under  pressure  .  that  had  never  happened  to  her  before  ,  really  ???  she  was  always  good  at  everything  she  did  ---  it  was  supposed  to  be  a  breeze  .

time  after  time  ,  her  research  got  denied  ,  or  she  got  a  less  than  excited  response  ,  and  she  felt  herself  growing  more  and  more  ansty  and  anxious  that  she’d  spent  so  much  time  pursuing  this  and  it  would  all  fizzle  out  into  nothing  .  

she  became  so  desperate  for  something  to  stick  that  her  parents  paid  a  peer  to  drop  out  so  imogen  could  use  their  research  for  her  dissertation .  their  research  wasn’t  completely  done  or  anything  ,  and  gen  definitely  still  went  on  to  work  more  on  it  ...  and  it  led  her  ,  eventually  ,  to  the  discovery  of  an  exoplanet  that  orbited  a  solar - type  star  .  obviously  ,  she  defended  her  dissertation  and  got  it  approved  ,  and  ended  up  winning  the  nobel  prize  in  physics  for  this  discovery  just  last  year  ,  in  2019  .

this  ,  of  course  ,  opened  many  doors  for  her  ,  and  she  ended  up  being  offered  the  position  of  coo  at  spacex  ,  and  now  works  closely  with  elon  musk  on  developing  new  space  technologies  . 

however  ,  none  of  this  would’ve  happened  if  she  hadn’t  stolen  the  beginnings  of  someone  else’s  dissertation  research  ...  alexa  ,  play  dirty  little  secret  

╰  *  PERSONALITY  !

imogen  tends  to  be  more  logical  than  emotional  ,  which  can  cause  a  strain  on  her  relationships  more  often  than  not  .  she’s  not  very  considerate  of  other  people’s  feelings  .  she  doesn’t  mean  to  be  that  way  ,  but  it’s  definitely  how  she  comes  across  most  of  the  time  

she’s  very  cutthroat  ;  obviously  willing  to  do  anything  to  succeed  .  in  this  way  ,  i  can  see  her  being  rather  intimidating  .  she’s  friendly  ,  don’t  get  me  wrong  ,  but  she’s  cunningly  intelligent  ,  and  very  quick  to  shut  down  any  sort  of  emotional  response  to  something  in  favor  of  figuring  it  out  once  and  for  all  

this  makes  her  come  of  as  a  bit  of  an  ice  princess  sometimes  ---  unattainable  and  cold  .  she  doesn’t  let  people  get  close  to  her  ,  and  she  doesn’t  even  really  realize  she’s  doing  it  ??  she’s  actually  kinda  naive  and  oblivious  ,  but  don’t  you  dare  say  that  to  her  out  loud  

maybe  a  little  bit  cocky  but  ...  maybe  it’s  kinda  justified  .  even  if  she  stole  the  start  of  someone  else’s  research  ,  she  is  still  brilliant  

incredibly  charming  and  eloquent  .  loves  to  talk  about  anything  and  everything  .  she’s  very  starry - eyed  and  and  dreamy  

honestly  ?  she’s  just  a  little  out  of  touch  with  people  her  age  because  she’s  only  ever  been  peers  with  people  way  older  than  her  ?  like  ,  hello  ,  she  started  uni  when  she  was  twelve  okay  .  this  also  has  a  detrimental  affect  on  her  relationships  

she  wants  to  be  sweet  but  she  just  doesn’t  come  off  that  way  a  lot  of  the  time  ,  unfortunately  .  she  cares  very  deeply  about  people  ,  and  is  very  compassionate  ,  but  she  has  difficulty  expressing  that 

loves  the  idea  of  love  ,  but  it  always  ends  up  fizzling  out  for  her  because  she’s  so  focused  on  her  work  or  she  accidentally  said  the  wrong  thing  or  something  like  that  

find  some  wanted  connections  here  !

[babyloontrash]

Wedding Day (C.H.)

Summary: Calum on a wedding day. Words: 4,5k Note: Don't hate me, please.

Today was the day.

It had been marked in his calendar for months. A large notice with the word 'WEDDING‘ written in all capitals and filling up the whole space for that day. As if there was any need for that. How dumb and ignorant he would have to be to forget about such an important day? There was a bunch of cute doodles it too, in a pink and red gel pen, the glittery kind. She was the one who put it all down, and he could still remember how wide were her eyes and how bright was the smile she wore then. Even just the thought of that moment made him smile. Figuring out the perfect date was not an easy task. Not when she had this day planned out pretty much ever since she was seven. Though there had been some changes made during the years. For example, she no longer insisted on having a bouncing castle on her reception, nor making each of the guests bringing a pet with them. Those were brilliant plans if anyone asked him, but she had just rolled her eyes and laughed when he brought this point up. Hearing that laugh had made his heart flutter and to be honest, he would have no problem with making both the bouncing castle and the puppies really happen.

She had stated that the only thing she really needed from him on that day to be truly happy is to not have him bail on her in the last minute. "If you won’t be there when I’ll be walking down the aisle, I swear to God that I am gonna find you and make you pay real bad for hurting me like that.“

He had no doubts that she would really be capable of doing that. She did not look exactly terrifying when she had said those words out loud, considering that she was rather tipsy and both of her arms were wrapped around his neck as she needed the support so she wouldn't trip, but he believed her. He knew his girl well enough. There was nothing she needed to worry about, of course, he would be there. He loved her and she meant the world to him. Always had and always would. Forget all the fame and the money he had earned, not even the awards he and his band won could compare to how amazing it was to have her in his life and to how happy he felt when she sent him one of those smiles that were reserved for him. Of course, he would be there.  Looking nice and sharp. Just for her.

They had only talked together on the phone last night. Her girlfriends had planned a sleepover of a kind and he was not allowed, naturally. She had sneaked into the bathroom though just to give him a call and ask how he was doing. She needed to hear his voice. It wasn’t like she had any doubts about the next day. Not at all. God, she had been waiting to marry and spend the rest of her life with him for so long. The scenarios of the guests not making it in time, the weather acting up, the cake not being as good as she had wanted it to and so on were filling her mind and driving her crazy. She wanted her wedding day to be perfect and he understood, allowing her to vent to him for as long as she needed before assuring her that it would be okay. Everything would be fine. Even if something would end up going wrong, it was not like it would matter that much anyway. Even if it would rain and her uncle got drunk and caused a scene, she was going to be a married woman on the end of the day and that’s what it was about. The love was the most important. Years later, she for sure wouldn’t even remember any of those things she was stressing about. Listening to all that did help her calm down. But maybe it wasn’t about what words were being said but about who had been saying them. He always seemed to have this soothing effect on her. There was something in the way he spoke that made her feel that yes, everything would turn out to be okay. And if it wouldn’t, well, she would always have him. "Don’t you dare to cry when you see me in the dress,“ she warned him playfully in the end, just before they were about to hang up because her friends had figured that she was missing and they got afraid that she's talking with the groom. "You know how puffy your eyes get afterwards and I can’t have you look like a mess on the pictures.“ He didn’t get to make any promises since the call had already ended, but truth be told, it would be rather unwise to make such promise anyway. Calum did not cry very often but he was rather sure that seeing her in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle would bring him to his knees.

As he put on his clothes he couldn't help but wonder about what would she look like, even though that he was going to see her in just a few hours. What dress would she be wearing? He remembered her liking bunch of these lacy ones. But that was long before the proposal even happened. Or maybe she would wear the kind with the skirt looking as if it was made of cotton candy... She always made fun of those, but then again, there was a time when she was joking about getting married to him out of all the possible people one day. Nothing was impossible. It didn't matter what dress she chose though, Calum was sure that she would look absolutely amazing. Little her always talked about how this would be her princess moment. Smiling, he went back to those memories in his mind. His fingers carefully buttoning up the shirt she picked with him specially for this occasion while joking about how if she wasn't engaged, she would have a great dilemma when trying to decide whether she wants to tear the shirt off or ask him to keep it on because he looked so good in it. Calum was right in the middle of tying his tie when  Ashton's head peaked into the room. "You ready mate?" He asked and Calum simply nodded his head. He didn't even hear him walk inside but that didn't come as a much of a surprise with how loudly the music was playing. Ashton went to complain about that right after he turned it off, telling him how he had spent at least five minutes in front of the front door, waiting for him to let him in. "When you weren't coming I had to use the spare key. Part of me got worried that you decided to stay at home... I mean, I wouldn't blame you. You know my opinion on this." Calum didn't let him tell anything else, piercing him with a glare in the mirror. "I know. I know. Sorry. My opinion doesn't matter. You love her and you want to do this." "Exactly. Just be a good friend and say that you support this decision." There was a moment of silence. "I am a good friend and I support you. No matter what. You know that," Ashton finally said and then smoothed the jacket Calum put on. "You look great. Very handsome. Girls and women of all ages are gonna get weak in their knees when they see you." In the whole world, there was only one girl that truly mattered to him though.

"I am not going to play wedding with you. It's dumb." He kicked the ball towards her in hopes that she would kick, or maybe throw it back so they could play with it instead. "It is not!" She argued and her hands settled on her hips. Such a stupid gesture. His sister and his mum did the same thing when they wanted no more arguments from him. The ball stayed just a few steps away from her. If she moved a little bit to the left... "It's not dumb," he said in the end. Anything to make her stand and look differently at him. He didn't like the expression on her face. She seemed angry with him and he didn't like that. "I just don't want to... How about we play the spy thing. I will play the villain." She clearly couldn't say no to that, right? Everyone always wants to play the cool spy. It's way better than playing a bride. What they do anyway? Walk with some flowers in their hands. That's boring. "The last time you were over and I played the goalkeeper, you promised that I would get to choose what we play next time." God. He really did promise that. "You were an awful goalkeeper..." "That doesn't matter! We played what you wanted and now it's my turn. Or do you want me to tell your mum that you are a liar who doesn't keep their promises?" The frowned expression was gone. Her chin pushed forward and she looked at him almost with a triumph. Calum let out a heavy sigh, kicking the little stone that was near his foot away."That's not true. You know that." "It will be if you won't play with me."

To be honest, it didn't turn out to be as bad as he thought it would. Not that he would ever admit it. They got to bring all the plush toys outside into the garden, her mum made them put some blanket on the grass first so they wouldn't get all dirty, and they set them down as the guests. It was a bit boring when she later disappeared to get ready and he was left alone, but at least he got to steal some of the cookies they had set on the table as a part of the following feast. He didn't understand what was happening at first when the small radio they brought out and left at the door started playing. She got a little bit frustrated when she found him not standing at the made-up altar but he quickly rushed over there, having to wait for a moment before she adjusted the tape and the song started again. He also had to promise that he didn't see her before. He wasn't really lying. He did not see much. Just a stupid piece of curtain hanging over her face. He wondered how she would be able to talk through the aisle with that. She somehow did though and he was honestly impressed so he stared at her in awe. She had to nudge him, muttering how he needs to put the veil away. It didn't strike him that he could simply lift it up, instead, he literally tugged on the curtain so the little tiara she was wearing fell down to the ground as well. She shot him a glare but then took his hands, smiling at him a little while she nodded her head every once and then as if the large teddy who played the officer was really saying something. Soon, they were both saying their 'I do' and the celebrations could start. He was looking forward that part the most because it would mean eating all the cookies but before that, the kiss thingy had to happen. They exchanged a look but soon Calum decided to push through it and pecked her lips real quick. He always made fun of how his first kiss was actually a wedding one.

When Calum arrived at the venue, most of the guests were already there. "Everything okay?" One of his mates asked him when Calum walked up to them. He blinked his big brown eyes at that. Wouldn't they stop asking him about it? Of course, everything was okay. More than that actually. He was thrilled. He couldn't wait for the ceremony to start. "Yes," he ended up answering anyway because the look he sent them clearly wasn't enough to make it clear. Calum looked around, examining the surroundings. From what he could see, everything looked magical. Exactly like she wanted to. The weather shouldn't be an issue either. He checked the weather forecast in the car and there was not a mention of even the smallest possibility of rain. She wanted to get married outside and while Calum was there when she was picking up all the decorations, he was surprised with how amazing it looked all put together. She really did a great job with all of this and when he sent her a text telling her that he just got there and that the place looked absolutely lovely, she sent him a heart emoji. That small red heart made him realize how quickly his own heart was beating. He turned down his friend's offer of taking a sip from his flask. It would take the edge off, they said but Calum shook his head immediately. He wanted his mind to stay as clear and sharp as it could be. There would be plenty of time for alcohol later. Calum greeted the people he knew, all of them exchanging smiles and sharing their excitement about this lovely day, and he also got introduced to a lot of people he didn't know until now. Finally, he spotted his parents and his sister while they were walking out of the large tent where would all the celebrations take place later. As soon as they got close enough to each other, his mum pulled him into a tight hug. She went on about how nice everything looked and how surreal this whole thing felt. She still remembered when they were just little kids, running around the garden half-naked. And now there was a wedding. Time flew so fast. He stopped her in her rambling before she started crying and she smiled brightly at him, nodding her head and assuring him that there won't be any more tears now. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs and then kissed him before going off to say hi to someone else. His dad and Mali stood there with him for a while, and while he was always the type of person who enjoyed his family presence, right now there was only one thing he could focus on and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering in that direction.

"Are you sure that the boys won't get upset that we left them alone?" She asked and pulled the hoodie a bit closer to her body. It was a summer night but the breeze that was coming from the ocean was making her feel a bit chilly. "Have you seen them?" Calum laughed and shook his head before collapsing down onto the grass. "They won't even notice that we are gone," he assured her and then patted his hand on the spot beside him when she kept standing and just looked down at him. He said her name to call her over, motioning for her to come down again and after a moment she finally did. "Fuck you," he let out when she managed to lay down on his hand in the process. "Sorry," she laughed and once she was comfortable, she reached for his hand that he was keeping close to his chest now while looking at her with a hurt expression. "Don't be a baby." She rolled her eyes when he called her out on laughing at his suffering. She laced their fingers together, smiling in the dark at how warm his hand felt against hers and also at how well their hands fit together. Carefully, as if not to cause any more 'damage', she brought their joined hands up to her lips and kissed the back of Calum's. "Is it better?" She wanted to know but Calum struggled to let out any sound at all. Did she really just kiss him? He felt like a dummy for suddenly feeling so funny in the pit of his stomach. After all, he knew how soft her lips were. They had pressed against his cheek many times before but that was always a simple, friendly gesture. Somehow, the kiss now felt more intimate. Maybe it was because they were completely alone, in a dark of a park she loved to visit so much. Her grandpa used to take her there when she was a kid and this place held a very special spot in her heart. He knew that, and to be fair, that was probably the main reason he brought her here. He sneaked her out from the party she threw for them before they would be leaving for England the day after tomorrow. He didn't have much time. And for the longest part, he thought about not letting her know how much he is going to miss her once he would be gone... What would be the point in telling her how much she actually means to him when he was going to leave? Michael then came up with this "if not now then when" talk and Calum hated him for that from the bottom of his heart. His friend seemed to have a pretty good point though. If she wouldn't like him and this confession would go terribly, at least he wouldn't have to face her after for some time, and once they would meet again, the whole thing may as well be long forgotten. But if it would work out? If she smiled at him in the way that made his heart speed up? Then they could use these months to think about whether their friendship that had lasted for years was worth putting on the stake and they maybe could have their happy end as a couple. It was embarrassing how much time he had spent thinking about that during the past year. Damn. Calum had this whole talk prepared but his throat suddenly felt so tight that he doubted he would be able to let out any of this. All just because of her hand securely holding onto his and her breath tickling his skin. Love was dumb. Who came up with that shit anyway? She turned to her side, using one of her hands to hold her head up while she continued to hold him. "Are you really not going to talk to with me because of that? Come on..." She grinned when he remained quiet and she nudged his foot with hers. "Of course not." He quickly shook his head. "I was just... thinking." "Yeah?" Her eyebrows raised. "Up for sharing that with me?" "I don't know," Calum admitted and shrugged his shoulders. "It's sort of dumb." "Is it?" He nodded his head, smiling a bit when she made this 'mmmhm' sound. "Dumber than letting that Cole guy pierce your lip?" His brows furrowed and he gently pushed her away from him. "We agreed we don't talk about that. Ever." "You agreed. I know that I will never recover." The park was completely quiet except for her laughter and Calum knew that even if he wouldn't force himself to speak the truth about his feelings, he wouldn't regret leaving the party and spending some time just with her right here. Her hand left his and he looked at her curiously when she made him turn his face towards her. She brushed her finger over the spot where the piercing once been and shook her head slightly in disbelief. "I still don't know what the hell you were thinking then." "Guess I just wanted to be cool." "You are cool. Even though that you are in the stupid band...." She joked. "You love my band," He reminded with a serious look. He heard her swallow before she spoke out again. "Yeah. I do." Their eyes met for a moment and she parted her lips as if she was going to say something but in the end, she pressed them tightly together again for a couple of seconds. "I can't believe you are leaving to make music in London. I am going to miss you." There seemed to be a hint of sadness behind these words and Calum couldn't stop himself from reaching out for her and pulling her to his chest. "I'll miss you too." He said the obvious and she offered him a little smile in return. "I'm going to drown you in messages. You will be so annoyed you will just keep on wishing that the guy gives you a break." "You will?" "Yes! For sure. You will not get rid of me that easily. You made a promise. You are stuck with me for life." She started laughing again and Calum automatically felt so happy with himself for being the one to cause that. He didn't need to say more, she knew exactly what he meant. The wedding. By now, she had made her peace with the fact that he would never let her live that down. They both had so many embarrassing stories on each other that it was quite scary, actually. As long as it was just the two of them talking about it and they didn't reach the ears of any stranger, though, it was good. Just like now. They spent the next hour or two actually laying in the grass, talking and laughing their asses off, reminiscing about all the great times they spent with each other. There was only a one little small thing missing for them to be as happy as they possibly could be, and Calum couldn't believe that he was really doing this when he suddenly leaned his head in and kissed her. He interrupted her story about old Ms Brown telling on them that they broke into her garden. She hated being interrupted and he knew it but he simply couldn't stop himself at that moment. The sun started to come up and she looked so beautiful in that gentle light. "I am sorry," he started to stammer out, his face so close to hers that their lips actually brushed against each other when he spoke. There was no slap, no 'what the fuck are you doing' or any other negative reaction. There was no reaction at all actually, and Calum really started to wish for the ground to swallow him whole as quickly as possible. With his eyes closed, he started to pull away but a pair of hoodie covered arms stopped him. "No. Come here," she mumbled and gently rubbed her nose against his before kissing him.

He was standing at the same spot where it had happened years ago, a wide smile on his face as he thought about it. About how she started to giggle as they made out because his hand under her shirt tickled her. About how she then rolled on top of him and made him tilt his head back in pleasure when she kissed his neck. About how they just made out and cuddled until the sun completely came up and they both needed to go home. Calum was absolutely in love with her then and he loved her just as much now. He needed to tell her. His heart would burst if he didn't.   He fished his phone out of his pocket and then dialled her number. "I need to talk with you,“ he said into the phone in a shaky voice once she finally picked up. A part of him struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that this was really happening. "Babe, I’d love to but we really don’t have time… My heel broke so we quickly had to find some new shoes that would fit and now we are late and…  I know small things like this don’t matter. I swear I am not stressing out. We are running late. I’ll talk to you later after the ceremony, okay? Love you.“ "Love you.“ When the call finished, Calum checked the time. It made sense that everyone seemed to be at their places already as the ceremony was supposed to start in only a few minutes. It didn't appear that any of them knew about the little delay of the bride. Still, he needed to get in position too, so everything would be ready for when she would arrive. Shoving the phone into his pocket he started to walk towards the group of people that were waiting aside. He smiled at some of the bridesmaids that were already there and then spend the time while they had to wait chatting with the groomsmen. Suddenly, the two bridesmaids that were missing showed up beside them, saying that it's about time that they start. And so they did. The music began playing and they walked through the aisle to the cute arch that was put up just for this occasion and that was covered with flowers. If anyone asked him, Calum wouldn't be able to tell what song was playing when his feet carried him there, nor could he tell how were all the people in the seats looking at him. He moved automatically and there was just one person on his mind. Her. He couldn't wait to see her. He tried not to fidget too much because of the nerves and he searched for the faces of his family and his closest friends. They were all giving him their best smiles. They knew how he felt. Then a new song started and everyone's eyes turned towards her. He could feel the tears starting to sting in his eyes. He had tried to brace himself but it didn’t seem like he did a very good job. She looked wonderful, absolutely stunning. Some people seemed to gasp and he honestly didn't blame them.  She carried herself with such grace that it almost seemed as if she was floating through the air. There was a small, a bit nervous smile playing in her lips and he noticed how tightly she was holding on the bouquet that was made of her favourite flowers. When her and Calum's eyes met, she made the corners of her mouth turn up a bit higher before she shook her head a little bit. "Don't cry," she mouthed towards him but when she looked down he saw how quickly she was blinking her eyes. This was a very emotional day for her. For all of them. The aisle wasn't too long and yet, it felt like ages to Calum. Ages during which he couldn't stop himself from admiring how beautiful she looked as a bride and also thinking about his past and future life. When her father finally brought her over to where the officer was standing, he shot Calum a little encouraging smile. Calum's head nodded slightly in acknowledgement and then he swallowed thickly before looking down while her father handed her to the groom.

Fuck all the fame and the money he had earned, fuck the awards he and his band won. If it wasn't for them, he was pretty sure that he could be the one marrying her and the smile that made her eye crinkle would still be reserved only for him.

[grace13star]

Better Get Superstitious (Chapter 1)

Logan Dennison is a firm believer in science, and the facts are that no one can come back from the dead. Witches and magic could never exist, he's known this since he was a kid. But after a sudden move to Salem, Massachusetts, suddenly everything he's ever believed is challenged by a talking cat, a cute believer, and a trio of undead witches from the 17th century. What's a skeptic to do?

Character(s):Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Remy, Mitchell (Cartoon Therapy), Toby (October, Sanders Shorts)

Relationship(s): Analogical (Virgil/Logan)

AO3  Prologue  Here  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

“And no one ever found out what happened to Roman Binks,” Mrs Kelley said, flicking on the lights. She’d turned them off for atmosphere or something. “It is said that to this day, a black cat guards the black flame candle, the same candle that, if lit, would bring back the Sanders brothers from the dead.”

Logan scoffed before he could stop himself.

“Oh, do you have something to say, Mr Dennison?” Mrs Kelley asked.

The class turned to look at him, giggling at his being called out.

“I am well aware of the belief you all have here in Salem. Black cats, witches, whatnot. It’s just that there is no scientific proof for any of this.” The class broke into whispers.

“That’s ‘cuz science isn’t looking,” a new voice said, stopping the whispers.

Logan looked over to see a kid who was, for some reason, wearing sunglasses inside and sipping a Starbucks frappuccino that was still cold despite it being last hour.

“Halloween was based on an old pagan ritual called All Hallows Eve,” sunglasses kid said. “It’s a time when our world and the spirit world are closest. It used to be a huge deal. Then candy companies took over and turned it into a childish holiday.” He took a long slurping sip of his frappuccino then shrugged. “It’s a conspiracy.”

The class laughed but they applauded as well, wolf whistling and being generally unruly. The boy sitting behind sunglasses kid rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. Mrs Kelley joined in the applause, nodding at the kid.

“Well said, Remy,” She said. “Alright then, I know you’re all excited for Halloween, but we still need to get through English.”

The class groaned good-naturedly and started pulling out their stuff.

The girl behind Logan- Mary? Marie?- tapped his shoulder. When he turned, she handed him a folded up piece of paper.

There was a little doodle of a brain on the front, with a small ‘V’ under it.

Logan unfolded the note and was greeted with a phone number written in glittery purple gel pen.

hey babe! hmu any time u want. xoxo remy

He physically cringed at the abbreviations and lowercase.

He turned to Remy who waved at him cheekily, then blew him a kiss. The boy behind him swatted his shoulder, then mouthed ‘sorry’ at Logan.

Wow, he was really cute.

No, stop it, Logan. No random crushes. How are you supposed to get into Harvard if you’re caught up in a relationship?

English passed pretty easily, even though it wasn’t his best subject, and before he knew it, he was unlocking his bike to head home.

A loud laugh caught his attention. He looked over and there was Remy and the cute boy. Cute boy was laughing into his hand, a stark contrast to Remy who was all but bellowing with glee.

“Hey, Remy, right?” He called, jogging over.

“Ah, it’s the skeptic!” Remy exclaimed, peering over his sunglasses. “What’s up, babe.”

“I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any hard feelings over our little debate in class.”

“Nah, girl, you’re all good. Besides, they weren’t even my arguments.”

Logan frowned. “No? Then who-”

“That was all V here,” Remy said, lightly punching cute boy’s arm. “He didn’t feel like talking in class, so he wrote it down and I said it.”

Logan turned to cute boy- V- and tried to maintain eye contact without blushing. “Well, I enjoyed your arguments very much. This school doesn’t have a debate team, so I feared I would get out of practice.”

“Don’t mention it,” V said, shuffling his feet. His cheeks were bright pink, probably from the brisk wind whipping across the courtyard.

“Okay, hate to break up whatever sexual tension that’s happening here,” Remy cut in, “but I gotta know. You don’t believe in any supernatural thing?”

“No.”

“The Sanders Brothers?”

“I believe they were people that lived here once, but I don’t believe they were witches.”

“Not even on Halloween?” Remy asked incredulously.

“Especially not on Halloween,” Logan said stubbornly.

“Okay, Remy, let’s not scare the new guy off too soon,” V said.

“It’s fine, I should get going anyways,” Logan said. He handed V a scrap of paper. “Trick or treat.”

He hopped on his bike, waved, and then left before either of them could stop him.

He’d had a few days to get used to the town, and in that time he’d found a shortcut through the cemetery. It was a bit of a bumpy ride, and there were a few hills, but he could handle it.

Logan was so focused on riding that he almost missed when two people stepped in front of him. He slammed the brakes in just enough time to not hit the blond one.

“Halt!” One of the said. “Who are you?”

“Logan Dennison,” he answered.

“Where ya from?” blond guy said. “Haven’t seen ya anywhere before.”

“Los Angeles.” At their blank stares, he sighed. “LA.”

“Oh, wow,” the other one said. “Tubular.”

“I’m Toby,” blond kid said. “This is Mitchell.”

Mitchell grabbed Toby by his shirt collar. “How many times I gotta tell you, man? It’s not Mitchell, it’s Ice. Ice!” He let go and Jay turned back to Logan.

“Uh, this is Ice.”

Mitchell- Ice- turned around so Logan could see his hair- on the back of his head, the word Ice was shaved into his hair.

“So let’s have a butt,” Toby said, practically leering at Logan.

“I don’t smoke,” Logan said, leaning away from him.

“They’re very health conscious in Hollywood,” Ice laughed.

“LA is not-”

“You got any cash...Hollywood?” Toby asked, ignoring him.

“No.”

“You don’t got any cash, you don’t got any smoke...what am I supposed to do with my afternoon?” Toby asked, as if everything was Logan’s fault.

“Maybe you could learn to breathe through your nose,” Logan said, getting fed up. He just wanted to go home, was that too much to ask? Also, his grammar was heinous. Would it kill him to use the proper tense?

Toby laughed until Ice stopped him. “Woah, look at those cross trainers.” He looked up at Logan. “Let me try ‘em on.”

Logan went to push past Toby, but he wasn’t exactly one for physical confrontation.

He was left with a bad attitude riding home in his socks.

He opened the door a bit forcefully and breezed past his parents in the kitchen.

“Hey, Logan! How was school?” His mom called from where she was unwrapping their plates.

“It was fine,” He replied, not stopping.

Before he was fully up the stairs, he heard his father ask, “Was he not wearing shoes?”

“Must be some form of protest,” his mom answered.

Logan pulled the door to his room closed and leaned against it, sighing.

Once he’d collected himself, he pushed off the door and started feeding his fish. “Hey, guys,” he greeted.

He flopped on his bed and groaned loudly. He grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face and screamed into it. He had homework, but that could wait until he was done with his current crisis.

He was just starting to relax when something burst out of his closet.

“Boo!”

He barely kept himself from screaming. “Patton!”

Patton, his younger brother giggled. “I scared you, I scared you!”

“Mom and dad told you to stay out of my room!” Logan exclaimed.

Patton stuck out his tongue. “Don’t be such a crab.” He scrambled on top of Logan’s bed and started jumping. “Guess what? You’re gonna take me trick or treating!”

Logan sighed. “Not this year, Pat.”

“Mom said you have to.”

“Well, she can take you herself.”

“She and dad are going to a party at the Town Hall.”

“Well, you’re eight. Go by yourself.” Logan pulled out his desk chair and his notebook to start on his math homework.

Patton jumped off the bed and came over to the desk. “No way! This is my first time! I’ll get lost. Besides, it’s the full moon. The weirdos are out!” He hugged Logan’s arm causing him to draw an unnecessary line on the page. “Could you forget about being a teenager for once? C’mon, we used to have such a spooktacular time trick or treating! Remember? It’ll be like old times!”

“The old days are dead,” Logan said, deadpan.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re taking me anyways,” Patton said triumphantly.

“Wanna bet?” Logan muttered, erasing the line.

Patton just smirked at him.

Patton ran down the stairs to meet their parents, Logan following at a much slower pace.

“Let’s go, hurry up. The witching hour’s about to begin.” Their dad grinned. He applauded Patton’s costume. “Wow, you look boo-tiful!” Patton giggled. He was wearing a black and orange dress with a matching hat in the stereotypical witch style. Then dad turned towards Logan. “And, what are you supposed to be?”

Logan was wearing jeans and a sweater and looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. “I’m a rapper,” he deadpanned.

“You gotta have a hat on sideways, then,” their mom said, coming out of nowhere with a baseball cap. She plopped it on his head. “There we go.”

“Okay, smile!” dad said, holding up his camera. “Say...Halloween!”

“Halloween!” Patton chorused.

Logan didn’t smile.

If anyone doubted that Salem, Massachusetts loved Halloween, seeing it now would make a believer out of them.

Practically every house had gone all out on the decorations. Everyone you looked, there were spiderwebs, lights, blow-up witches, you name it. Hundreds of kids ran in the streets- which had been blocked off just for the trick or treating- yelling and shouting to their friends. At every house, someone waited just inside the door, eager to give out free sugar.

“C’mon, Lo-Lo, lighten up!” Patton said, practically skipping through the streets.

“Can we just get this over with?” Logan muttered. He didn’t want to ruin this for his brother, but he also didn’t want to be there.

Patton continued on, hopefully not hearing him. “Let’s go this way!”

Logan looked in the way his brother was pointing and froze. “No, not that way, Pat.”

Of course, he was ignored. Logan had no choice but to follow his brother towards Ice, Toby, and a group of their friends.

Ice spotted Patton and cut him off. “Ding, ding!” he said. “Sorry, kid, everyone’s gotta pay the toll.”

“Ten chocolate bars, no licorice,” Toby grinned.

“You’re not being very nice,” Patton said.

“Whatever. Cough up the candy, kid.”

“No!” Patton stamped his foot. “Logan, tell them to go away.”

The teens turned their attention to Logan, and twin grins of glee spread across Ice’s and Toby’s faces.

“Hey, Hollywood!” Toby said.

“You’re trick or treating?” Ice asked.

“I’m taking my brother around,” Logan said, very uncomfortable with this situation.

“That’s nice. Woah, I love the costume. What are you, a New Kid on the Block?” Ice grinned.

Patton tried to keep walking, but Toby stopped him.

“Dude, just pay the toll.”

Logan had had enough. “You know what, here.” He shoved his own candy bag, half full, into Ice’s chest. “Pig out. Let’s go, Patton.”

He grabbed Patton’s hand and started in the other direction.

“Hey, Hollywood!” Ice called to their retreating backs. “The shoes fit great!”

“Are you okay, Pat?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Patton said quietly. “I kind of want to go home now.”

“Hey, come on.” Logan said. He kind of hated those kids for ruining his brother’s night. “How about we go to one more house. Then we can leave, okay?”

Patton thought for a minute, then nodded.

They looked around and saw a huge house.

“Woah!” They both said.

“Rich people always have the best candy,” Patton said matter-of-factly.

“Well, guess we’re going there, then.”

The door was wide open and there were people coming in and out, some in costumes, so Logan assumed it was okay to just walk in.

The entryway itself was huge, but that didn’t compare to the huge front hall they stepped into.

There was a huge chandelier hanging over them, and a carved staircase that probably cost more than the Dennison house. The only thing that ruined the whole rich mansion vibe was the Halloween decorations covering everything.

Patton spotted a huge plastic cauldron and ran over to it. “Jackpot!” He gasped, reaching in and pulling out multiple full-size candy bars.

“Logan Dennison?”

Logan looked up at the sound of his name and met eyes with V. He was standing at the top of the stairs, wearing some old-timey Victorian costume.

“Oh, hey!” He said. “V, right?” He tried not to blush when he noticed his hair was pulled into a ponytail.

V started down the stairs. “Virgil, actually. V’s a nickname.” He looked Logan up and down. “I thought you weren’t into Halloween?”

“I’m not, just taking my brother around.”

Virgil waved at Patton. “Hi. I’m Virgil, I’m one of your brother’s friends.”

Logan flushed.

“Hi!” Patton exclaimed. He waved.

“You guys want any cider?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” Patton exclaimed. Logan nodded.

Virgil went into the next room and came back holding three cups of cider. He handed them out.

“Thanks.” Logan’s mind raced for some kind of conversation. “Um, how’s the party?”

“Boring,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a bunch of my parent’s friends. They do this every year. I’m on candy duty. Speaking of.” He turned to Patton. “I love your costume!”

“Thanks!” Patton beamed. “I really like witches. We just learned about those brothers in class.”

“Oh, yeah, the Sanders Brothers,” Virgil smiled. “Yeah, I know all about them.”

“Really?” Logan asked.

Virgil shrugged. “My mom used to run the museum. It’s closed down now, though.”

“Well, why don’t we go?” Logan said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“What?” Virgil and Patton said at the same time.

Well, no going back now. “Teach us about the Sanders Brothers. Make a believer out of me.”

Virgil’s eyes darted between Logan, Patton, and the candy bowl. After a minute of thought, he sighed. “Yeah, okay. Let me get changed real quick.”

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving Logan and Patton alone.

“Ooh!” Patton exclaimed. “You liiiike him!”

Logan flushed. “What? No, I don’t.”

“You do! You like, like, like, like, like, like, like-”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Logan grabbed his brother and covered his mouth with his hand. A split second later, he dropped the younger boy. “Did you just lick me?

Virgil led the way up the path to the old cottage.

It wasn’t as far from town as Logan had expected. They’d been able to walk there in under twenty minutes. But even though it wasn’t that far away, being in the woods made it feel a lot more isolated than it should have. The yelling of trick-or-treating children had disappeared, and the only sounds were their footsteps and leaves rustling.

“Legend says,” Virgil said in a spooky voice, “that the bones of a hundred children are buried within these walls.” He unlocked the door and ushered everyone in.

“I can’t see,” Patton announced.

“There should be a light switch somewhere,” Virgil said, feeling along the wall.

Logan found a display of lighters and flicked one on. This must have been a gift shop at one point. He held out the small flame to the wall and helped Virgil find the switch.

The lights flickered on, revealing the cottage in all of it’s dusty glory.

“Wow,” Patton said, drawing the word out in awe.

“This is the original cauldron,” Virgil said, motioning towards it. “They would have slept upstairs. Ooh!” He moved over to a display case. “This is the spell book of Damien Sanders. It was given to him by the Devil himself.” His voice was quiet, but the pitch rose and fell in a way that made it almost hypnotic to listen to. “It’s bound in human skin and contains all the recipes for his most powerful and evil spells.”

“Gross,” Patton whispered.

Logan spotted something interesting. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing at it.

Virgil looked up. “Oh! That’s the Black Flame Candle.”

Logan noticed a placard near the candle and moved over to read it. “The Black Flame Candle. Legend says that on a full moon it will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin on Halloween night.” He raised the lighter, a weird compulsion coursing through him. “Want to light it?”

“What? No!” Virgil said, alarmed.

“Logan, it’s a full moon tonight!” Patton added.

Logan’s hand moved to light the candle, but before he could do anything, a pitch dark shape pounced on his head.

Patton screamed and Virgil shouted. Logan fought with the thing on his head, eventually managing to throw it off of him.

“Stupid cat!” He exclaimed. There was a strange sense of rage filling him that made it hard to think.

“Okay, Logan, you’ve had your fun.” Virgil sounded scared. “Let’s go, now.”

“Logan, he’s right, let’s go.” Patton said.

“Oh, come on,” Logan said angrily. “It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus.”

“Logan, I’m not kidding!” Patton exclaimed. “It’s time to go!”

Before anyone, including himself, could stop him, Logan lit the candle.

Virgil’s intake of breath could be heard across the room.

For a second, nothing happened. The flame flickered normally, a bright orange color. Then Logan blinked and it was black.

Around the room, the fake electric candles popped one by one, plunging the room into darkness for a second. The floorboards started to move under their feet, bucking up and down. Green light shone from underneath them.

Then, just as soon as everything started, it was done.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“A virgin lit the candle,” Patton said dryly.

All the actual candles suddenly flared with light. Flames roared from under the cauldron, and they heard footsteps outside.

The small group ducked behind things as the door swung open, revealing three men wearing cloaks of different colors.

“We’re home!” The leader announced.

[whatmack]

UR MATTNEIL....... I MSOBBING

!!!!! AHHH had to post this rn bc it was really getting too long for how I’m formatting this series (why doth my fingers write with such long winds): have some loving neil hours in this house

——————————————-

“You’re going to be a hot mess,” Allison promises over the phone.“Thanks,” Neil says sardonically, juggling the phone to his other shoulder sohe can fit another piece into the puzzle spread over the coffee table. Andrewhas made a game of finding the most psychedelic, difficult to look at puzzleshe can and spreading them over useful surfaces. He gets bored with themquickly, so they remain half-finished unless Neil makes an effort to completethem.“You know I love you,” says Allison. “But you’ve been dating one person, sincelike, forever. You’re like a little baby bird again.”Neil’s fairly certain that’s another insult. He squints at a swirl of glitterypink and tries to see if the shape matches any of the loose pieces he’sarranged in front of him. “It’s Matt.”“Exactly,” Allison coos. “I was there when he won Dan. You have no idea whatyou’re in for, chickadee. No, Parker, down!”Rustling and barking come through the other end. Renee and Allison arefostering hypoallergenic seeing eye dogs, because Renee is a good person andAllison gets hives around anything with fur. Allison pretends she hates the work.Neil sees through her. He’s had practice.“But we already know each other,” Neil says, pushing sternly down on theanxiety rising in his chest. He tries a piece against the edge of the pinkswirl. Nope. “It’s not like we have to make a good impression.”“Just you wait,” Allison says ominously, which doesn’t help Neil’s anxiety atall.Thankfully Neil is too tired to be nervous when he gets off the plane,stumbling from the baggage claim into Dan and Matt’s waiting arms. Checkingbaggage is old hat by now, and he spares a thought to wonder at it as he letsDan sling the case protecting his Exy stick over her back and Matt take overhis carry-on. He falls asleep on Matt’s shoulder in the back seat.

He gets set up in the guest bedroom, same as usual, and it’s not until the nextmorning that Neil thinks to wonder if he should’ve expected to stay in themaster with Matt (and Dan). He flips over onto his back and stares up at thestippled ceiling. It’s not like he’s never slept beside them before, during Foxsleepovers or accidental naps on the couch. Thinking about doing the same thingnow, in this context, gives rise to a squirmy feeling that isn’t quitecomfortable. Not bad, but not good, either. He decides he’s glad he slept inthe guest bedroom this time.The smell of coffee and frying butter beckons him from the kitchen. Neil wrapshimself in a blanket (Matt likes the apartment so cold, he and Dan agree it’s terrible) and makes his way into theopen. Dan is flipping pancakes on the stove, Matt reading from his phone at thetable. Matt’s eyes light up when he sees Neil.“I was hoping I would catch you before I had to leave today! Good morning,” headds as an afterthought, scooting his chair over to leave room for Neil. Neilgrabs the open seat and sits in it crosslegged, drawing the blanket up over hishead. He makes eyes at the three mugs waiting by the coffee maker.“I’m hungry,” Matt whines, leaning back to nuzzle his face into Dan’s back. Shepokes him with the butt of the spatula, shooting Neil a look that says can you believe this guy?“You rush pancakes, you get shit pancakes,” she says. “I know how to cook onething and I’m gonna do it right. Morning, Neil. Coffee?”“Yes.”Matt has practice for most of the day (he’s apologetic, which Neil finds silly,because he’s the last person to think that’s a bad excuse), but it’s a schoolholiday so Dan stays at the apartment with Neil and her playbook. Shegravitates from the table to the couch to the floor to the table again,watching replays on her laptop and taking copious notes. There are fivedifferent pens in her hair before she starts running out of space.With the nonstop rush Neil’s life usually is, Neil is happy to take upresidence spread-eagle in the middle of the rug. He rambles on to Dan about histeammates. He flips through channels until he finds a sepia-steeped Westernmovie and decides it’s good enough. He texts Andrew, and gets back a picture ofthe new cat (whom Matt has finally decided to name “Thunderkick 3000;” Neil andAndrew usually just call him “Teddy”) hanging from a claw snagged in Andrew’sarmband. Dan calls him over for his opinion on her players, and Neil advisesher happily. Though she does keep reminding him that these are freshmen, nothis professional colleagues. Neil keeps reminding her that they’ve got to learn sometime.He doesn’t remember to be nervous until Dan points to the threadbare shirt andpair of (Andrew’s) sweatpants he’s been wearing all day and asks, “Matt’salmost home. Is that really what you’re going out in tonight?”A swift kick to the gut would make him less suddenly nauseous. Neil knows fromexperience. “I don’t know where we’re going.”“He didn’t say to dress fancy,” Dan says, propping her hands on her hips andscanning Neil from head to toe. Neil’s skin prickles. “You’ll probably be goodwith jeans. As long as they’re not fifty years old or ripped. My man’s a classyone.”“Since when?” Dan sticks out her tongue and implies something rude about Neil’s parentage,which all things considered might even be true.She is Neil’s family, though, so she cuddles him on the couch after he getschanged until Matt comes home. The rush of warm air from outside and Matt’sheavy footsteps announce him plainly, but neither of them move until Matt tipshis head over the back of the couch, shaking his sweaty headband onto Dan’sstomach. Dan picks it up and snaps it back into his face. “Ewww,” she says, grinning.“I kinda like coming home to my two favorite people,” Matt says, and whileNeil’s face goes hot he leans down to kiss Dan hello. Neil’s instinct is tolook at his feet, but their faces are in the way and so that would becounterproductive. Well, why should he? Didn’t he and Matt agree that they were going to kiss whenthey saw each other again? Habit makes Neil stop before reaching up, tucking his hands behind his back.“Do I get one too?”“Wh—oh,” Matt says, hand flying up to cover his face. “I. Not yet? Is thatokay?” His voice gets squeakier, so at the end he sounds like a cartooncharacter.“Okay,” says Neil. He starts to ask where they’re going, but Matt stops himwith a hand on his arm.“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. “Like. I’m totally still down withkissing. Kissing’s great!” The last time Neil saw Matt bouncing around on his feet that much, it wasbecause he had to go to the bathroom; that doesn’t fit, here.“You’re just a romantic,” Dan teases,and there’s the gut-kick again. Neil’s arms tighten around Dan. She pats him.“You good?”“Mmhm,” Neil says into the pens sticking out of her head.“We don’t have to go out tonight,” Matt says, concerned. 

 That sounds awful.“I’m good. I promise!” 

“Really? Because—”

“Shut up. Where are we going?” Neil says, quickly, before any more argumentscan come through. “Is this okay? What I’m wearing.” Dan shifts to the side soMatt can get the full view. 

“Perfect,” Matt says, all bright white teeth, and oh, Neil wants Matt to lookat him like that and say nice things about him forever. 

After a shower and change himself (“He looks hot in his uniform, doesn’t he?”Dan says to Neil, winking, and Neil feels a quiet thrill when he answers, “Yeah”),Matt slings a jacket over his shoulder and offers Neil his hand. Neil takes it,comforted by the familiar gesture. Matt smells like hair gel and soap andcologne, and Neil presses his face into Matt’s shirt in appreciation.“Drive safe,” Dan says, opening the door for them. She pecks them both on thecheek, stretching up for Matt and leaning down for Neil. “Have fun, you two.”“Don’t blow up the house when I’m not here to see,” Matt responds, and they’reoff, carried down the stairs to the parking garage on Dan’s laugh.